The House Guest

by Rosa Sophia

  “Are you okay?” Kat said.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I thought you knew that was my son.” Julie looked up, meeting her gaze, brushing loose strands of hair away from her face with the back of her hand.

  “Your son?” Kat managed to hide her shock. The two women continued scrubbing.

  “I thought you’d been introduced to John. I’m so sorry.”

  “No. But that’s all right.” Kat coughed when her response came out sounding hoarse, as though she’d just swallowed a bug. She remembered Allen Ryman, the lawyer, mentioning the rumors of another son at the Maslin house. Kat had found that son, but where had he gone after 1960?

  “He’s a sweet boy.” Julie went on scrubbing. “He’s thirteen, older than David, who’s eleven. Then again, you probably know that. He told me you two talked, and got along well.”

  “Yes, we did,” Kat muttered weakly. Act normal! She scolded herself as she stared at wet, shiny floor.

  “John doesn’t have that many friends, never has. But he and David are quite close. Phillip never liked that very much. He tries to get John to do farm work, but the poor boy would rather help me in the kitchen!” She laughed, but her cheer was gone as quickly as it had come. “You should talk with John, I’m sure he’d like the company. He doesn’t leave the house much and doesn’t really prefer to, unless he has David with him. Otherwise, he stays inside and plays with the train set Aunt Kay gave him last Christmas. She doesn’t come around much anymore, though, and she’s one of the few people in our family John really got along with.”

  They worked until the job was done, and Kat rose to her feet, cringing at the soreness in her knees.

  Julie squeezed her shoulder in a gesture of friendship and thanks. “You know,” she said, “I’m beginning to think you’re the daughter I never had.”

  Kat didn’t know what to say to that, but she had to step outside for a moment and take a deep breath of fresh summer air. Her chest ached, and tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to shed them.

  She wondered why she felt so at home, and she knew immediately it was because of Julie. Grandma.

  Kat believed it was her grandmother’s favorable influence that made Phillip warm up to her. Within a few weeks, he was talking to her about almost anything, even literature. It turned out they shared a favorite play—Macbeth.

  On the third night the two of them had indulged in reading Shakespeare aloud to each other, Phillip looked over at Kat from above his spectacles and said, “Do you remember anything yet?”

  “No, not yet,” she told him.

  “You know, one of my cousins had amnesia. He knew me so well, but he looked right at me and didn’t know who I was. I said to him, you must remember that time you were helping me spread manure in the fields and you lost your bible in all that…right in one big pile of it. He carried his bible everywhere. I said to him, don’t you remember that at all? I said, Job was never the same again!” Phillip laughed heartily at his weak joke, tipping his head back and expelling a noise that seemed to come from the very bottom of his stomach. Kat laughed along with him, even though she didn’t think it was very funny.

  “Why did he take his bible into the fields?”

  “Like I said, he carried that thing everywhere. Needless to say, his memory came right back after I mentioned that incident. Mainly because he pulled the ratty old thing out of his bedside table—he insisted on keeping it because his late mother had given it to him—and he smelled it and said, ‘you know what, Phillip, I remember that now!’”

  Kat’s grandfather laughed again. He looked down at where she sat on the wooden floorboards near the fireplace, her dress fanning out around her—and he nodded knowingly. “I think what you need is something to remind you. One little thing. Something significant must have happened to you. You know what I mean?”

  “I think so.”

  “Say you fell out of a dogwood tree when you were little and it traumatized you. If you see a dogwood tree with similar surroundings, it might jog your memory. It would be the same with anything else. Why don’t you and Julie go into town sometime, and you just see if you can’t remember something?”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Kat agreed.

  “I would say so.”

  That night, when Kat was brushing her hair in front of the mirror in the bedroom, she noticed something. She drew closer to the glass and peered at her features. She raised her eyebrows in slight surprise, slowly lowering the hairbrush to her side. There, set in her flawless complexion, were her grandfather’s light blue eyes.

  Chapter 3

  Jonathan Stark

  There were very few brothers who were as close as John and David. They were inseparable. Katherine could see that. They held hands, the older boy tugging his little brother along. David went willingly, clinging to John. It was obvious how much they loved each other. But Kat couldn’t help but think there was something she was missing. Something between them. A heavy secret.

  “Can we come with you? Please, Mama? Please?”

  Katherine was standing beside Phillip’s truck, watching Julie negotiate with them.

  “I already said no,” she reiterated. It was a beautiful afternoon and the boys had been playing in the forest. They were sweaty and their hair wasn’t combed, but John threw his shirt back on to show that he could be civilized.

  “See? I look fine!” he said, gesturing to his attire, which wasn’t very neat even when he tucked his shirt into his pants.

  “I wouldn’t mind if they came along,” Kat said, wanting to get to know John.

  “All right. But you’ll have to come back inside and clean up.” Julie hurried them both toward the house while Kat waited outside.

  There was one detail that was bothering her. It was something that couldn’t be hidden for the benefit of strangers in a store. John had been beaten up. There was a bruise on his face, and one on his chest, but Julie hadn’t said a word about it. Allen Ryman’s words returned to her as she watched the screen door slam shut after Julie and her sons.

  “…Some of the old folks claimed they saw more than one child running around in the yard…Most of the people who remember that either moved away, died, or lost their minds. You could always ask your dad.”

  “Ask my dad,” Kat muttered.

  Could she ask David about his brother? At this point, Kat’s father only knew John as his thirteen-year-old brother. He didn’t know his future daughter would never meet her uncle. Only the old people would remember John Maslin, the few who’d seen him playing outside with David.

  Kat didn’t know why she was there, and she still wasn’t sure how she had gotten there.

  She couldn’t understand why her grandfather had allowed Julie’s wish to be granted. Why had Katherine gotten the entire estate in 2005?

  There were many things Kat didn’t know and, if given the choice, would have sooner ignored.

  ***

  In Doylestown, there were cars everywhere and traffic was backed up. An accident had happened nearby, so Julie decided not to continue driving. She parked at the side of the road and climbed out.

  “Better that we just get out here rather than try to find a closer parking spot in all this mess,” she said loudly, trying to be heard over the incessant sound of car horns beeping. The four of them filed onto the sidewalk and Julie reached into her pocketbook. She took out some money and handed it to John and David. “We’ll be shopping. You two stick close to the drugstore, all right?”

  “Okay, Mama,” John agreed. When David started whining that he wanted to go to the hobby shop down the street, John covered his brother’s mouth with his hand and pushed him back.

  Before long, Katherine and Julie were heading down the street, leaving the arguing boys on their own.

  A department store in 1960 was a marvel to Kat, who had only ever seen such clothing in vintage shops or read descriptions of the styles online or in fashion books. She liked some of the styles, and glanced down at the frumpy housedress she w
as wearing. Julie admitted that her husband preferred modesty. To Kat, this meant her grandmother wore clothes that were ugly, and she never dressed up.

  Kat tugged an outfit off the rack. “Julie, look at this,” she said, turning her head. Her grandmother was at the other end of the aisle, gently pushing through dresses with her long, thin fingers. Julie moved away from the rack and swayed over to where Kat was standing.

  The dress was deep black with white buttons that went down the front. The neckline was fashionably dipped and Kat imagined the dress would come down to mid-calf if she were to wear it. It wasn’t a housedress. It was beautiful, and didn’t have long sleeves, unlike many of the dresses Julie possessed.

  “Oh, it’s lovely!” She took it from Kat and held it against her body, watching the fabric near the bottom push outward slightly. Then she hung it back on the rack. “Too bad I can’t have it.”

  “What? Why not? You need something like this,” Kat insisted. “You’re gorgeous, Julie. You would look wonderful in this. You and Phillip could go out somewhere. You could wear a nice shawl and—”

  “Phillip would never want me to wear something like that.” Julie was shaking her head sadly, and there was a look in her eye that was so submissive that it scared the hell out of Kat.

  “Haven’t you ever wanted a dress like this?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Then surprise him. Phillip might actually enjoy seeing you in something like this.”

  “No, no.” Julie began looking through another section. She gestured to another, more homely looking dress. “I should get one of these, I need a new one anyway. Most of my clothes are becoming quite tattered.”

  “Why wouldn’t Phillip let you wear that dress?” Kat pressed.

  “He always blames me for everything that happened when Jonathan came to work for us,” Julie said absently. “He says it’s my fault for tempting him. It’s best I don’t dress in a way that would tempt another man.”

  “Jonathan?” Kat lowered the dress, feeling rather confused.

  “He worked for Phillip for several years, doing work around the farm. I’m sorry we hired him.”

  “Why?”

  “He got into some trouble.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then Peter Black disappeared.” When Julie saw Katherine’s confused stare, she explained. “Peter was the Woodworth’s farmhand. He took a liking to me and then no one knew what happened to him. He was gone.”

  Kat leaned in closer to Julie as the two women walked through the store, trying to stay out of the public earshot.

  “Did they ever find him?”

  “Yes. In our barn, dead. Phillip found him.”

  “What? How?”

  “A few months later, my husband found more of them. In the barn, buried under the corner, where Jonathan, where Mr. Stark,”—she corrected herself, as though afraid to say this farmhand’s name in a casual manner—“where Mr. Stark kept all the farm tools.” She had been fumbling with her words and Kat knew more questions would only make Julie feel worse. But she had to know what had happened.

  “How many were found?” Kat discovered a lump of fear in her throat. She swallowed it and tried to stay calm.

  “Five of them in all.” Her voice was strained. “Five found, anyway. Earl Woodworth, the man who owned the farm closest to us, he disappeared. He was the only one they never found. He…he was gone the same day, the last day I ever talked to him.” She covered her face with her hands and turned toward the nearest wall. She was trembling. “They were all such kind people. Allan and Peter. And Simon and Allan were brothers.”

  “Simon was one of them…killed?”

  “Yes. And so was Timothy Nyce.”

  There were tears streaming down Julie’s face, though she was trying her best to hide them. Her body shook in paroxysms of grief.

  Kat recalled how her mother had taken her from the farmhouse and never brought her back, how she had said the Maslin family was filled with bad influences and horrible people.

  That wasn’t all you’d meant, was it, Mama? You found out about those murders. You were trying to keep me safe.

  She couldn’t believe the horrors she was discovering in her own family. She wanted to run, but she was trapped. Stuck in another time for reasons she couldn’t comprehend. Why was she here? Despite this, she wanted to know more. She held back her own tears, and put her arm around Julie, holding her shaking hand in her own. A sales associate started to ask if they were all right, but Kat nodded and waved her off.

  “Who killed those people?” she whispered.

  Julie choked back her tears. “They convicted him. Jonathan Stark. He’s in jail, and they gave him thirty years. He was…he was thirty-one when they caught him.”

  “You say they convicted him, but did he really do it?”

  “Why are you asking me all these things?” she hissed, tugging away from her. She held a hankie to her face, trying to hide her discomfort.

  Julie leaned in and stared at Kat with such fury that the young woman backed up a step, suddenly afraid of her own grandmother.

  “Why are you meddling in these things?” Julie hissed. “They’ve upset me enough already, I don’t need to keep rehashing everything. I don’t want to see them take him away, over and over. Once is enough.”

  “Him—you mean Jonathan Stark?”

  “Yes. I’m tired of this.” She straightened, tucking her hankie back into her handbag and collecting herself. “I can tell you remember something, Katherine. If you think I’m stupid enough to believe you have amnesia, after all the lucidity that you’ve displayed, then you’re the idiot…not me.”

  Julie made to walk away, but then she turned back. “And another thing. You’d better come up with some good excuses as to why you’re asking so many questions. I’m quite fond of you, but if you keep playing this game, I’ll see to it that Phillip throws you right back where you came from.” She paused, her irritation dissipating as if it had never been there. “Now, come on. We’ve got to fetch the boys and get back home. I’ll shop for a new dress on another day.”

  ***

  Just before sundown, Katherine crept outside with David on her heels and the two of them walked steadily out to the barn.

  Every day, for weeks on end, they’d been spending more time together, sitting in the hayloft. Every time she saw the barn, all she could think about was the death that had occurred here. She wanted to know more.

  “Jonny came along from Tennessee, from his parents’ onion farm,” David explained. “He was poor and trying to get a job.”

  “And your dad hired him?” Kat leaned against the wall of the barn and curled her legs against her chest.

  “Yeah. He didn’t want to, but Jonny really begged.” David nodded, his blue eyes wide. “He really begged. Said he would work for real cheap, as long as Dad would hire him. He didn’t ask for much, just if he could at least sleep in the shed, not the barn, he said.”

  “Why not the barn?”

  “The stink. He said he didn’t mind working with manure, but to smell it so close while he slept was another story. He would have been living right by the cows.” David picked at the hay, frowning, then tossed away a few pieces. There were footsteps emanating from down below. The barn door slammed shut and David peered over the edge of the hayloft. He yelled down to John and told him to come up.

  Many days were like this. Kat always had trouble talking with John because he was either with David or alone; there was no in between. The two of them got to know each other with David always present. He would usually keep quiet, leaning up against his brother while John and Kat talked.

  There was something about John and David’s relationship that puzzled Kat. They were very close, which wasn’t at all surprising. But they were closer than most brothers. Closer than some would consider normal.

  Kat couldn’t get to sleep that night. She crawled out of bed and took a walk in the night, beneath a full moon. It was late July and she was th
inking of Jake less and less as she melted into this new existence, something she had to believe would end soon.

  She was experiencing normal dreams now. She would dream of Jake, or being back in her Souderton apartment. Then she would wake up to another world, as though the dream had been reality and the world that she was living in—with Julie and Phillip—was the only dream she’d ever experienced.

  Kat crept toward the barn. Her feet were bare on the moist grass and all she wore was an old white nightgown, one of Julie’s. She remembered a conversation she overheard the other evening, after supper.

  “Why not just accept him for who he is?” That had been Julie, wondering aloud with a voice that suggested absolute submissiveness. Then Phillip’s mother had cut in—

  “Never! He’s a waste of time, a sissy.”

  Who was? Kat asked herself. Who angers Phillip so much, and who is it that Phillip’s own mother hates?

  ***

  Down in the creek by the Maslin house, the severed head of a sheep was stuck awkwardly by a large stone. David prodded it with a stick. All the flesh was gone, but its eyeballs were still there. They were white, sickly orbs with a light blue center that stared up toward the sky, as though the poor thing had been looking for Heaven just before it died.

  “Where do you think it came from?” John wondered. He didn’t bother to investigate the semi-carcass with a stick. He left that up to his brother, who seemed almost too amused by it.

  “Some farmer probably slaughtered it and threw the head in the creek,” David suggested.

  “The nearest farm with sheep is four miles away, in the opposite direction of town and not near the creek.”

  “Oh.”

  The sky was growing dark. A storm was on its way. It was the first of August and Katherine, the stranger with no last name, was still living in the Maslin household. David wondered why he thought of her while looking at the severed head in the water. Was the head an omen of some sort, or was Katherine?