The Ghosts of Varner Creek

by Michael Weems

  The face in the bucket of water, the footprints by the bed, "Yeah, it was her."

  "Damn," he said, "I've heard all them stories about ghosts but figured they was just meant to scare people. I didn't never think they was real as that. I believed you and all, but damn . . . it’s just so, so . . . well it just don’t seem like it could be real."

  "It was real," I told him. "She found me, and that’s how I found her. I went looking for her like she had done, and she showed me where to look."

  George felt the hairs go up on the back of his neck. It was creepy enough thinking Sarah's ghost had been right there next to him while he slept that night, but now he had an image of her murdered and hidden there in the creek. The idea of it sent chills down his side. "You reckon he’s killed Aunt Annie, too?" he asked.

  I thought about her and whether or not she’d been sunk like Sarah, but maybe had floated up and was carried away. The thought that she, too, had suffered like Sarah and was somewhere lonely with no one to find her brought more tears to my eyes.

  "I'm sorry," said George quickly.

  "It's all right," I told him. "It ain't you. It's just that Sarah's gone, and Mama, too, but I don't know where she is. And it looks like Pap’s what done it, and I just don't know what's going to happen no more."

  "It'll be okay," said George "You can come and live with us. You'll see, it'll all work out." His effort at comforting me touched me. These were good people, my Aunt, Uncle, and cousins. Why couldn’t we have ended up like them, a real family?

  Aunt Emma came walking up with Francine and Amber. The two girls looked at the wagon with trepidation. They had been told the day's events in a quick summary and were both afraid to come near to where Sarah was. Amber started crying and holding on to Aunt Emma as they came closer. Francine looked like she wasn't sure how she was supposed to act. She stared blankly at the wagon and us. "Where's your daddy at?" Aunt Emma asked George.

  "He went to go fetch Dr. Wilkins," he answered. "Sheriff gone down that-a-ways, too." He pointed off in the direction both men had headed.

  After a while Uncle Colby returned with Dr. Wilkins, a slender man with thinning black hair that was immaculately waxed back on his head, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He came walking beside Uncle Colby and pulled the sheet back a bit when he reached the wagon. Francine and Amber both instinctively looked. Amber clutched Aunt Emma even tighter and Francine let out a gasp. "Let the little children come unto me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these," said the Doctor quietly. He was apparently as well versed as Miss Thomas. Before he decided to become a physician he had considered seminary school, but he’d found his true calling in medicine. He turned to Uncle Colby and said, "We'd better get her in my office so we can get her cleaned up." Uncle Colby walked the horse and wagon down towards the Doctor's office and once there carried the bundle inside. Aunt Emma went in with him and told us children to wait outside.

  A few minutes passed when Miss Thomas came hurrying up towards us. She lived just a few more houses down and it seemed that somehow word had reached her. I was leaning against the wagon looking towards the doctor's door, wondering what they were talking about inside, when she rushed up to me and threw her arms around me saying, "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry. I just heard, dear. Gus . . . I mean the sheriff, he just dropped in and told me." Her cheeks were moist and her powder rubbed off on me as she held me. "Everything is going to be okay, child," she said. She let go of the hug but continued to hold me by the shoulder saying, "Are you all right, dear?"

  Hell, no, I thought. "Yes, ma'am," I said.

  She stroked my hair and asked, "Where's your Aunt and Uncle gone to?"

  "They inside," said Francine "talking to Doc Wilkins." Her lack of an "are" in her sentence didn't get corrected, for once.

  Miss Thomas walked up to the door, helloed the house, and entered. A minute or two later she and Aunt Emma came out. They came over to the wagon and Aunt Emma climbed up. "We're going to go on home," Aunt Emma told us. "Uncle Colby's gonna stay and make arrangements with Dr. Wilkins, who’ll give him a ride back later on this evening."

  "If y’all need a thing in the world, Emma, you just let me know," said Miss Thomas.

  "We will, Miss Thomas, and I do appreciate it." They reached out and held each other's hand for a moment before Aunt Emma slapped the reins, "Come on, Joe."

  He started with a grunt and we headed home. Francine and Amber were both unnerved at the idea of sitting in the back, and Amber was latched on to Aunt Emma again, so George and I sat in the rear of the wagon as we went along. Francine kept looking back at me like she wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what.

  "Quit yer gawking," George finally told her.

  "Sorry," she said, and didn't look back anymore.

  As I learned later, over the next few hours while we were home getting ready for supper, Uncle Colby was back at Sheriff Covell's office having a discussion with him. "You wouldn't have any idea of where he'd be likely to go, would yah?" he was being asked by the sheriff.

  "No sir, far as I knew he was still at work today."

  "Well, that was the first place we went," said the sheriff, "but Mr. Pyle said Abram skinned out early, not long after you left for the day, he said. We went over to his place but couldn't find hide nor hair of him. I reckon we'll try again tonight, though, and he'll probably be there. All his belongings were still in place so I don't think he's gone anywhere without meaning to return soon. Not unless he’s somehow found out we got a body, but that doesn’t seem likely. I’m trying to keep it quiet for now, but come tomorrow it’ll be out."

  Uncle Colby just looked at the Sheriff. And he thought about what was going to happen to Pap tomorrow if they caught him. "I just didn't think he had it in him," he repeated.

  Chapter 13

  When Uncle Colby returned later that night we were all asleep except for Aunt Emma. I had cried so much during the day that I felt spent, and I was out when my head hit the pillow. Crying, as we all learn in life, is an exhausting thing that wears one out, both emotionally and physically. My sleep was deep, and no dreams of dark places came to me. I was awakened in the night by Aunt Emma, who was gently hugging me and whispering, "Sol? Sol, you awake, now, baby?"

  "Yes ma'am," I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

  "Sol, I need you come on into the front room, we’ve got to talk to you."

  She held me by the hand as we walked into the big room. She was in her nightgown, but Uncle Colby and Uncle Marcus were there as well and they were both fully dressed. I remember wondering when Uncle Marcus had come back. I had no idea what time it was, but it felt like the middle of the night.

  "Hey, Uncle Marcus, guess you heard," I told him.

  He looked at me with softness and pity. "Yes, I've heard. And there’s been some other things that’ve happened we got to tell you 'bout." I wasn't sure what more could have happened after the day I’d already had, but it didn’t sound too good.

  Aunt Emma asked me to sit down next to her on a sofa Uncle Colby had bought for her some years back for her birthday. Uncle Colby sat in a nearby chair he'd made by hand, and Uncle Marcus pulled up one of the kitchen table chairs. "What we’ve got to tell you about ain't easy," started Aunt Emma, "especially considering all what's happened. We was goin' to wait 'til morning, but decided it’d be bes' to do it while the others are asleep." She looked over at Uncle Colby for strength, but when she started to speak again she either couldn't find the words or couldn’t find the nerve.

  It was Uncle Colby who spoke for her, a rare thing indeed, "It's about your daddy, Sol. He’s done shot himself."

  What? I thought. "Shot himself . . ." I repeated. "When did he shoot hisself?"

  Aunt Emma found her voice again, "Today, Sol, this very evening. They found him in town. Apparently he had got his hands on a pistol and, well, he shot himself with it."

  I couldn't believe this was being added to everything els
e. How was a twelve year old supposed to deal with all these horrible things happening at once? In one day I'd found my murdered sister‘s body, and now the man who most likely had done it, our own father, had killed himself. And God only knew what had become of Mama. I waited for the tears to come again, but they didn't. Whether it was because I was out of tears by now, or simply couldn’t make myself spend them on Pap, I didn’t know. It was all like some cruel joke fate was playing on me. The weight of it all pressed down on me like a ton of stone. "Why?" I asked, without really thinking about the awkwardness of the question. Two seconds of reflection would have been enough for me to figure it out, but the question had come automatically.

  The adults in the room all looked at each other thinking the same thing but nobody wanting to be the one to say it out loud. Aunt Emma lent her delicate touch, "We don't know, baby. But I reckon it might have had something to do with Sarah today. But don't nobody know any particulars," she added. "There's going to be plenty of speculatin' about, but right now don't nobody know anything for sure, you understand?"

  I did. I understood Pap shot himself because he had been found out about killing Sarah, and probably Mama, too. I understood that I didn't have a family anymore, that they were all dead. I understood I was an orphan, made so by my own evil Pap. Ignorance is bliss, I thought. Because the more I was understanding things the more that I wished I didn't.

  Aunt Emma explained to me what would happen. Tomorrow the town's carpenter would be busy making two caskets, one big and one little, and they'd both be buried in the cemetery. I was sure Sarah needed to be in the ground quickly. When we pulled her out of the creek the decayed flesh had smelled horrible. "I'm going to ask that they be placed apart, though," said Aunt Emma. "I just think given things that would be best, unless you think otherwise."

  "No Ma’am,” I said. I was sure Sarah wouldn’t want to be buried next to Pap.

  “I reckon we’ll bury her in one of Amber’s dresses if that’d be alright.”

  “No,” I told her. “She’d want to be in her princess dress.” I knew it was filthy, and they had probably had to cut it off of her, but I felt that was what Sarah would have wanted.

  Aunt Emma looked as though she’d protest, but when she saw my eyes she just said, “I’ll see what can be done.”

  “So what’s going to happen to me?" I asked.

  Uncle Marcus spoke up, "We've been talking 'bout that. Your Aunt Emma and Uncle Colby say you're welcome to stay here with them, but I'd also like to have you come and stay with me and my family," he told me. "You ain't never met your Aunt Mary Jo nor your other cousins, but I think you'd be real happy down that way. Your granny lives there, too, with your Aunt Candace and her family. We've got plenty of room and there's a good school for you, lots of kids your age and things you’ve probably never seen here in town. I'd make sure you didn't have to worry about anything a boy needs."

  Aunt Emma also spoke, "We think it best if we let you think about that, Sol. We all love you and would be happy to have you as our own. And you don't have to decide tonight, not after all that's happened. You just think about it, okay?"

  "Yes, ma'am," I told her. I was surprised Uncle Marcus had invited me to come and live with his family. He didn't even know me, nor I him, really. And his wife and kids had never even laid eyes on me before. It was strange to think that he'd be so willing to bring me home and into his family like that. But I guess blood is thicker than water and he seemed sincere about not only being willing to have me, but also wanting me. My immediate reaction was that I'd stay with Aunt Emma and Uncle Colby, though. I'd grow up here with George and stay in Varner Creek, the only home I'd ever known.

  I went back to bed thinking about what had happened. I imagined Pap in my mind holding a gun to his head and pulling the trigger. I wondered if he was drunk when he did it, and if so, would he still have done it if he had been sober. It didn't matter, though. They'd have hung him anyway even if he hadn't done himself in. Why'd you do that to them, Pap? I asked the stillness. What possible reason could you have had to kill poor Sarah?

  The next day after breakfast we all put on our Sunday clothes and headed back into town. Uncle Marcus had gone back to Miss Thomas' the night before and promised that by mid-morning he'd have everything set up. He paid the carpenters and paid for the plots in the cemetery, and wouldn’t take any of the offers of cash from either Miss Thomas or Aunt Emma. A lot of folks wanted to chip in but he wouldn't hear of it. It was the least he could do, he told them, the only thing left he could do.

  We got to town around ten and the second hole in the cemetery was already being dug. Sarah and Pap had already been nailed in their caskets. Neither one was fit for a viewing. Sarah was decayed and eaten up beyond recognition, and Pap's skull was lopsided after losing its left side. He had put the gun to his temple instead of in his mouth, I heard someone say during the burial, and half his head went flying. Most all of the town turned out. It was one of the biggest things to happen in Varner Creek since time remembered, and word had spread fast. How that many people knew about it in just twenty-four hours was beyond me, but small towns are like that. I knew everyone would find out pretty quickly, but this must have been like a wildfire spreading through town.

  I got more hugs and apologies than I knew what to do with. People I couldn't remember ever talking to before were calling me by my first name and extending their deepest sympathies. Miss Thomas hugged me every time I got within arm’s length of her. Her arms were like a frog's tongue chasing flies, unexpectedly flying out at me when her cup of pity runneth over.

  We buried Sarah first and I cried as I watched the small wooden box being lowered into the hole. The preacher said some nice words, quoting the Bible a lot. Something about how the Lord brings death and makes alive, takes down to the grave and up again. I wasn't paying attention, really. I kept thinking about her in my dream, lying next to me hand in hand, pleading not to go back into the dark alone. I hoped I had accomplished what she wanted. Maybe she could rest now that she wasn't in that hole back at the creek, wrapped in metal and held down by stone.

  Pap's burial didn't have quite as many patrons. A few thinned out here and there, but most still walked over since they were already there and their curiosity wouldn't let them leave the show until the final curtain. It was a quite a different speech from the preacher. He did the same ashes to ashes, and still quoted the Bible a lot, but instead of verses about children in God's hands and the beauty of heaven, he spoke about repenting of one's sins and the Lord's judgment. "And Job tells us, 'What will I do when God confronts me? What will I answer when called to account? He repays a man for what he has done; He brings upon him what his conduct deserves.'"

  It was probably the most accusing eulogy anybody would ever hear in Varner Creek, but the people expected it. Everyone knew what'd he done and they couldn't see the salvation of his soul. Miss Thomas tried to let God have his judgment and put hers aside, but it was evident on her face as she watched them put him in the ground the way she felt. She couldn’t help but to nod approvingly with the preacher’s words. She’d cared a lot for Sarah, and Mama, too. And the expression was the same everywhere. Well, almost. Everyone there hadn’t come to pay their respects to Pap, they were there to wish him a merry one-way trip to hell and to see that he was on his way, but Uncle Colby had some mixed feelings. He remembered just wishing Pap could have gotten right with himself, he’d tell me later.

  As for me, it seemed eternal watching Pap go back from whence we all come. The preacher's eulogy droned on, "For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil." And in this way Pap ended up facing the jury after all. Even in death he couldn't escape the town's condemnation. The preacher was handing down the sentence with every word and all the people seemed to applaud his sentence with their nodding heads and Amens. Truth be told, I found myself agreeing with everything I heard, too. He had done such a horrible thing. I knew his own childhood and life had b
een rough, but he’d taken so much from me, and was never really nice to me, not in all those years. And Sarah was as sweet and innocent as a human being can be. And lastly poor Mama, they hadn't found her at the creek. At least not yet, anyway. She was probably drifting down to sea as the creek's inhabitants slowly consumed her. She had only ever tried to make the best of things. They didn't deserve what he had done; nobody could ever have deserved that. I thought about those things as he disappeared into his grave and I found myself furious at him.

  "Guess you’ll be findin’ hell," I heard myself say. It was quiet, a private condemnation from me to him, but Uncle Marcus standing close by heard me. So did Miss Thomas, and neither one tried to dissuade my anger. They felt it, too, and figured if anyone was entitled to it, it was me. I walked away before the preacher finished. Let the worms have him, I thought. I hope they chew him up and crap him out for a hundred years. A quick bullet to the head by his own hand was better than the way Sarah and Mama went. I knew it wasn't right to think such things, but my anger stirred with memories of Mama and Sarah.

  When all was said and done we went home. Uncle Marcus came with us, and so did Miss Thomas. All that afternoon, well-wishers stopped by extending their condolences. We had pies, casseroles, cobblers, and just about every confection known to man delivered to our door. The preacher came and wanted to know if I needed spiritual guidance in my time of need. Luckily Aunt Emma said she was seeing to that. Miss Thomas told Aunt Emma that if they were tight on space she'd be willing to take me in and see to it that I had a happy home to live in. Aunt Emma thanked her but said she was determined to have me under her roof if I was willing.

  I went walking through the woods with George for a while that afternoon mainly to escape all the looks everyone was giving me. We talked about the rumors Francine and Amber had told us they heard in town, about how really Uncle Marcus had shot my Pap but nobody would say so. "I don't think he did," said George. "He doesn't seem the type of man to lie about such a thing if he didn't do it."