The Light of the Lovers' Moon

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “Right!” Stoney said.

  Violet wasn’t quite sure what Buddy meant—but it didn’t matter. She just wanted to hear the story of how the ghosts came to be in the old house.

  “Anyhow,” Buddy continued, “this rich feller built that house, filled it with his fancy belongin’s, and tried to settle in. I say tried…’cause he just couldn’t seem to settle. Oh, he had his big house, and he had all his things of worth, but he didn’t have nothin’ else—no wife, no children, nothin’ of importance. Folks said he just weren’t happy, always wanderin’ ’round town, lookin’ like a lost pup.”

  “Poor little thing,” Violet mumbled. She blushed when she heard Buddy and Stoney both chuckle.

  “He was a grown-up man, Viola,” Stoney reminded.

  “I still feel sorry for him. He didn’t know what was important at all,” she said.

  “That’s right, girl. He didn’t,” Buddy agreed. “At least, not until he met her.”

  “Her?” Violet breathed, smiling with delight.

  “That’s right,” Buddy chuckled. “Her—the purtiest gal he’d ever seen. Oh, she was a sight! Eyes as dark as the night and hair as bright as the sunshine! Everybody said she was a beauty. And it weren’t just her face and figure that folks admired…but her kind heart and sweet soul.”

  Violet sighed, enchanted. Stoney poked an elbow at her rib, and she shoved at his shoulder.

  “Yer so sappy, Viola,” Stoney chuckled.

  “Hush,” she scolded. “Go on, Mr. Chisolm. Please go on.”

  Buddy smiled. “Well, folks say the very moment that rich man from New York City saw that purty girl from Rattler Rock…well, he knew what true wealth was then. He courted the girl and won her heart. Through and through, he won her heart…and she owned his like nobody had ever owned the heart of a lover before. They were married, right there in the old church outside of town. They moved into the house yonder ’cause…well, it was there. Didn’t seem wise not to live in somethin’ that was already built and waitin’…no matter how ridiculous it was for these parts.”

  Buddy Chisolm paused—stretched his bowed legs out before him as best as an old man could. “So they settled in, these two young lovers…and folks said they was happy. ‘Blissful’ is what folks said. They had themselves nine or ten kids—”

  “Nine or ten?” Stoney exclaimed. “You said it was three or four when you told it to me.”

  Buddy chuckled and reached out to tousle Stoney’s hair with one gnarled hand. “Oh, that’s right. It was three or four,” Bud said. “I was thinkin’ of my own folks. I had me nine brothers and sisters—five brothers and four sisters.”

  “I knew that,” Stoney said, pride beaming from his handsome face as he smiled at Violet.

  “So they had themselves a few kids…and was happy as two people and their babies ever was,” Buddy continued. “Oh, sure they was in that big ol’ house. But it didn’t make no nevermind. Love makes a home, whether it’s a mansion or a shack. Ain’t that right, Miss Vi’let?”

  “Yes, sir!” Violet agreed.

  Buddy Chisolm sighed; his smile faded a bit. “But then…then that ol’ war broke out. That feller from New York City just couldn’t sit still and watch his brothers go to fightin’ without him. ‘God means for the Union to survive,’ he told his purty wife and his little children. ‘How can I sit by and expect others to protect it if I ain’t willin’ to do the same?’ His wife agreed; so did his young’uns. So he marched off to war, leavin’ his family behind in that ol’ house out yonder. Truth was he was a might old to go off to soldierin’, already forty years to his name. But duty and freedom was callin’ to him…so he went.” Buddy paused—frowned a moment. “It was the consumption that got ’em. Wiped out near half the town…includin’ the purty wife and the children livin’ in the ol’ house yonder. The war ended, and that ol’ boy survived, in time to come on back to Rattler Rock and have his wife die in his arms, then bury every one of his three children. Folks say he never got over it. Folks say he never lived in the house again. No one ever know’d what become of the man who had the house built. Could be he died right there in it…just rotted away. Could be he moved—couldn’t take the pain of the loss of his family. Could be he went back to New York City and died there. That’s why folks say it’s the ghost of his purty wife roamin’ in that house—that she’s lookin’ for her husband still. But I say different.”

  “What do you say, Mr. Chisolm?” Violet asked in a breathless whisper.

  “I say it’s both of ’em,” Buddy answered. “I say it’s the man from New York City and his purty wife both, just wanderin’ through their home together. Maybe their kids are with ’em, though I only ever saw two lights at once and I only seen two lights together three times. Usually there’s only one. Still, however and wherever the man died, I think he came back here—his spirit anyway. I think he came back here to search for his lover, and I think he found her. I think they’re in that house together. That’s what I think.”

  He looked to Violet. “Did you see one or two lights last night, girl?”

  “Just the one,” Violet said. “It was downstairs one moment, then upstairs the next.” Again Violet felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle at the memory. “Do you think it was just one of them I saw?”

  “Not necessarily,” Buddy said.

  “You can hear ’em wailin’ or laughin’ sometimes, late at night,” Stoney said. He nodded at Violet. “I’ve heard ’em before. It’s the scariest sound I ever knew!” He looked to Buddy and asked, “Ain’t that right, Bud? Can’t ya hear ’em sometimes?”

  Buddy nodded. “Sometimes. But mostly it’s the light that lets ya know they’re wanderin’ about…and only durin’ a full moon. The light only comes durin’ a full moon.”

  Violet sighed. “I think it is both of them, Mr. Chisolm—the two lovers, just like you say.”

  “But what if the feller never died?” Stoney asked. He frowned. “What if he’s still alive? What if it’s the purty wife just wanderin’ around the ol’ house waitin’ for him? No one knows for sure he’s dead.”

  “That’s true. But it don’t seem likely he really lived long after losin’ so much. A man’s heart can only take so much pain before it quits altogether,” Buddy said. “Nope, I think his soul is right there, lingerin’ in the ol’ house yonder…with hers.”

  “I like to think they’re together,” Violet said.

  “That’s ’cause yer so sappy,” Stoney said. “It’s a lot more interestin’ to think it’s one ghost wanderin’ about lookin’ for another.”

  Violet stuck her tongue out at Stoney, and he laughed.

  “Keep that tongue in yer mouth, Viola…else I’ll yank it right outta of yer head,” Stoney threatened.

  Buddy Chisolm chuckled and shook his head. “Boy, don’t you know what that means?” Buddy asked. “When a girl sticks her tongue out at ya the way Vi’let done just now?”

  “Yeah!” Stoney said. “It means she’s askin’ for trouble.” Violet giggled as Stoney reached out and tickled her ribs with his fingers.

  Buddy chuckled again. “It means she’s a-wantin’ ya to kiss her. That’s what it means.”

  Violet gasped, blushed scarlet, and looked to Buddy Chisolm. “That ain’t true!” she exclaimed. She was suddenly hot—embarrassed—felt shy.

  “Oh, don’t let yer mama hear you sayin’ ‘ain’t’ Viola,” Stoney scolded. He wagged an index finger at her and shook his head. “She’ll tan yer hide if she hears that,” he teased.

  “But it ain’t true!” she squealed. “Is it?” For a moment, she wondered. Was that what it meant when a person stuck her tongue out at another person? Surely not! Her own mama stuck her tongue out at her daddy all the time!

  “Why sure it is, Miss Vi’let,” Buddy said. “And I’m sure Stoney here would be happy to oblige! Wouldn’t ya, Stoney?”

  Violet saw Buddy wink at Stoney.

  “Yes, sir, I would,” Stoney said.

  Violet rec
ognized the mischief gleaming in Stoney’s eyes, and she started to scramble away.

  “Oh, no you don’t, Viola!” Stoney laughed, taking hold of her ankle. “If yer gonna stick yer tongue out at me…then I guess I better make good!”

  “No! Don’t you dare, Stoney Wrenn!” Violet squealed as Stoney rolled her on her back, straddled her waist, sat down hard on her legs, and pinned her wrists at the sides of her head. “Don’t let him do it, Mr. Chisolm! Don’t let him!”

  But Buddy Chisolm only chuckled. “But you asked him to, girl! What’s the boy to do? A gentleman always obliges a woman!”

  “Kissy, kissy, Viola Fynne!” Stoney teased, leaning over until his face was only a few inches from her own. Violet continued to struggle as Stoney said, “How ’bout a good lickery one?”

  Violet immediately ceased in wriggling and trying to escape. “What do you mean a ‘lickery one’?” she asked.

  Stoney chuckled. “You know, a big lickery kiss, like the one we seen Roy Gribbs lay to Ethel McCormick the other day when we was peekin’ at them from the branches of that ol’ cottonwood tree.”

  Violet gasped, horrified. “Stoney Wrenn, don’t you dare!”

  Buddy Chisolm laughed. “You get her good, Stoney. Don’t you be lettin’ her get away with disrespectin’ you the likes she did!”

  Violet squealed as Stoney kissed her cheek, then her forehead.

  “Mmm-mmm! Viola, you taste just like sweet cream on berries,” he teased. “Now, hold still so’s I can kiss ya good.”

  “You let me up, Stoney! You let me up!” Violet squealed. She was giggling now, knowing full well Stoney was only teasing.

  “Come on, let’s have us a big lickery one, just like Roy Gribbs and Ethel McCormick,” he laughed, wagging his tongue just above her mouth. He took hold of her face and chin, trying to keep her head from rolling back and forth in avoiding his kiss.

  But Violet stuck her tongue out again, this time spitting and spraying Stoney’s face with saliva.

  Stoney shouted and immediately released Violet as he wiped his face on his shirt sleeve. “She spit on me!” he hollered.

  Buddy Chisolm laughed and laughed, rocking back and forth, overcome with amusement.

  Distracted by wiping his face, Stoney rolled off Violet to sit in the grass next to her. “You spit on me, Viola!” he hollered. “That ain’t fair!”

  “Well, don’t hold me down! You know I hate to be held down,” she told him, giggling as Buddy Chisolm winked at her.

  “You two are a handful, I’ll tell you that,” the old man sighed. “A real handful!”

  “He knows better than to hold me down,” Violet said.

  “I guess he does,” Buddy chuckled.

  “I coulda kissed ya if I’d really wanted to do it,” Stoney grumbled. “But you ain’t old enough.”

  Violet smiled as she studied him. Lands, he was a handsome boy! Furthermore, he was her best friend. She couldn’t imagine how dull life would be without him to get into mischief with.

  “I’m sorry I spit on you,” she told him.

  Stoney grinned. “I’m sorry I held ya down,” he said.

  Violet heard Buddy Chisolm chuckle again. She looked to see him still smiling at her and Stoney.

  “There’s a dead coyote down by the crick. It’s half rotted through if you two want to see it,” Buddy said.

  “Really?” Stoney asked. “Did you shoot it?”

  Violet smiled, delighted by Stoney’s ever morbid curiosity.

  “Nope,” Buddy said, shaking his head. “Looks like somethin’ bigger took it down.”

  “Ya wanna go down there with me, Viola?” Stoney asked.

  Violet giggled—for his green-blue opaline eyes fairly sparkled with excitement.

  “All right,” she said. “But I gotta be home before supper.”

  Stoney jumped to his feet and offered his hand to her. Violet took his hand, and he began pulling her in the direction of the stream.

  “Thanks, Buddy!” Stoney called over his shoulder. “I’ll be over tomorrow to help you with that fencin’.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Chisolm,” Violet called as she hurried to keep up with Stoney. “I really enjoyed the story!”

  “Now don’t you two go touchin’ nothin’ with yer bare hands,” Buddy called. “Find a couple of sticks to poke around with.”

  “We will,” Stoney hollered.

  Violet giggled, delighted as Stoney Wrenn led her off to another adventure.

  “I love dead animals!” Stoney said, glancing back at her and smiling.

  “I know,” Violet said. Then, sighing as Stoney squeezed her hand with excitement, Violet Fynne lowered her voice and whispered, “And I love you.”

  Violet opened her eyes. The day was still bright, the air still fresh. Yet tears now stained her pretty, pink cheeks—tears wept for a boy she’d loved nearly a decade before, a boy she’d abandoned when he’d needed her most.

  Inhaling a deep breath of resolve to buck up, Violet began to walk—walk away from the past and toward the little house the county school board had provided for her as part of her wages. It wouldn’t be long before the house would be in sight. She’d make a little stew for herself for supper and then maybe go over her lessons for tomorrow—her first day of teaching at the Rattler Rock School.

  She heard a rider approaching from behind. Turning, she nodded as the rider reined in before her. The rhythm of her heart increased as hope began to rise in her.

  “Howdy, miss,” the man said.

  Violet shaded her eyes and looked up at the man. He respectfully removed his hat. Quickly, Violet looked to his eyes. Blue eyes. He had blue eyes—not green-blue opalescent ones like Stoney’s had been. A tiny twinge of painful disappointment pecked at her heart.

  “Hello,” Violet greeted.

  “I’m Sheriff Fisher,” the man said, offering a friendly smile.

  Violet noted he was a very handsome man. She smiled in return.

  “You must be Miss Fynne, the new teacher over at the school.”

  “Yes,” Violet confirmed. “Violet Fynne.”

  “Well, I’m pleased to finally meet ya, Miss Fynne,” Sheriff Fisher said. “Hope yer settlin’ in all right.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you,” Violet said.

  “Well, let me know if I can help ya in any way, miss,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.

  “Thank you,” Violet said.

  He nodded and rode off down the road.

  Violet watched him go. “Fisher,” she whispered. She didn’t remember having known any Fishers when she’d lived in Rattler Rock before. “Hmm.”

  Another deep breath inhaled and Violet was off again toward her new home. She thought of the sweet rolls sitting on the kitchen table—the ones the parson’s wife had dropped by for her that morning, an offering of welcome. She’d seemed a kind woman, another person new to Rattler Rock since Violet’s family had left so many years before. For a moment, she wondered if there were any folks left in town she’d known before—if Stoney Wrenn were still in town or even alive. What if no one was left who knew what had become of him?

  A large cloud moved in front of the sun. Violet thought it seemed foreboding, the fact the cloud had blotted out the light just as she had begun to wonder if Stoney’s very existence had been blotted out somehow. Maybe he had never existed at all, she mused. Maybe she had only dreamed him up—a friend of her imagination with whom to pass the days when she had been lonely as a child.

  Shaking her head, Violet straightened her posture as she walked. No. Stoney Wrenn had lived—lived in Rattler Rock ten years ago. Surely someone was left who would know what had become of him. She would discover his fate and at last lay to rest the wild haunting in her mind and heart. She would. She had to.

  Chapter Two

  “Good morning, boys and girls,” Violet chirped with enthusiasm. “I’m Miss Fynne, your new teacher.” She smiled, even for the rather skeptical group of young faces seated before her—and only fifte
en skeptical faces. Yet she wasn’t too disappointed in the numbers. It was to be expected the citizens of Rattler Rock would be wary of a new teacher. Furthermore, fewer students meant Violet would be able to nurture individual associations with her pupils. Thus, she was not disappointed and continued her greeting. “I hope to know each of you very well,” she said. “And I hope you’ll find school a thing you look forward to…instead of dreading.”

  One small girl, perhaps six years of age, giggled. Violet smiled and winked at the child. Violet knew the little girl, tawny-haired and bright-eyed, would fast become a joy to teach.

  “Now, as I said, I do want to know each of you. Yet it does not quite seem fair that I would expect you to tell me all about yourselves without being willing to tell you all about me first, now does it?” Violet asked.

  “No, ma’am,” a young boy said.