by J. S. Bailey
“You’ll have plenty of time to do it. Sidney won’t be home until three thirty.”
Jessica sighed. “Good ol’ Sidney. I wonder if she’s having fun doing my job.”
Sidney was busy loading an armful of Mountain Dew bottles into one of the coolers when the bells hung above the glass double-doors jingled softly, signaling the entrance of a customer.
“Be with you in a minute,” she said, stuffing the rest of the bottles into place.
“Take your time,” said an unfamiliar woman’s voice from the direction of the potato chip aisle.
Sidney slid the cooler door closed and walked back behind the counter.
She looked up as the woman plucked a bag of cheese puffs off the shelf.
She did a double take. No way.
The woman had wavy red hair tied back with a turquoise barrette in the shape of a butterfly, just as her own mother had always done. The likeness was so uncanny that Sidney half-believed that Marjorie Miller’s corpse had risen from the grave, brushed off the dirt that she’d climbed through to get out, gotten the munchies, and walked the mile’s distance from the Holy Trinity Cemetery to get a pick-me-up.
The woman turned. She wore a simple white blouse and a black skirt that hung to her ankles. Her mother had owned a similar outfit.
Sidney forced herself to regain her composure. Of course this was not her mother. This woman was a little older—maybe forty-five—and had a thinner face and bigger bosom than Marjorie had possessed. She was also wearing Birkenstocks, something that Marjorie would never have been caught dead in. This latter point nullified the zombie theory in its entirety.
The Marjorie lookalike smiled at Sidney and placed the cheese puffs on the counter. “How are you today, sweetie?”
“Fantastic,” Sidney lied. She keyed the price into the cash register. “That’ll be a dollar ninety-nine.”
The woman handed Sidney two dollar bills. “Keep the penny.
Are you sure you’re all right?”
At first Sidney didn’t know what she could be talking about, but then she realized that she’d been unconsciously looking into the woman’s eyes. They were brown, not blue like Marjorie’s.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she said. “Have a nice day.”
The woman left. She probably thought Sidney was nuts for gawking at her like that. Sidney’s reaction was understandable, though. The brain tended to invent conspiracy theories every time someone died, like Oh, Mom’s not really dead. She witnessed a drug lord blow a snitch’s head off in a back alley and had to be put away in witness protection.
But Sidney had been there when her mother took her final breath.The only thing Marjorie did these days was push dandelions.
Sidney went back to the drink coolers. The Dr. Pepper looked like it could use a few more bottles. The Pepsi did, too. She retreated to the storeroom where cases of extra beverages were kept and gathered up another armload.
Having filled the cooler, Sidney went and sat down on the bar stool behind the counter and stared at the fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling to better pass the time. She’d finished most of her homework. The cigarette case was full. The floor was washed. She was alone and bored as heck.
Then Travis Suleman, her boss, walked in through the doorway that connected the gas station to the diner.
Back in the olden days of her employment, Travis had constantly joked around with customers and employees alike, but lately he’d taken on the demeanor of a burnt-out funeral director. “Did I just see a customer over here?” he asked, grabbing a Pepsi out of the cooler she had just finished loading. He unscrewed the cap and took a swig.
“Yeah. It gave me something to do for about five seconds.”
“Don’t look so upset about it.”
“I’m not upset,” she lied.
He waited for her to elaborate.
She sighed. “Fine. Maybe I am. But it’s about something stupid, okay? I just thought she looked like my mom, and for a second I thought it was her. Go ahead. Laugh your head off.”
Travis did not laugh but looked at her with pity. “Nobody’s going to laugh at you for that. I did the same thing when my dad died. Thought I saw him everywhere I went. Sometimes I wondered if maybe it really was him and he was just dropping by to let me know he was okay.”
“Travis, no offense, but I don’t believe in those things anymore.” Any faith she might have had in a deity had shattered when it became apparent that a loving god didn’t give a rat’s tush about her or her mom.
He frowned.“You think God takes statements like that lightly?”
Oh, brother. “What God? The one whose will it was that my mother’s brain got eaten up by a tumor? God’s just an excuse. Oh, look, he won the lottery. Must be the will of God. Oh, look, their baby died in a car accident. That’s the will of God for you!”
Travis’s expression was rapidly turning into a scowl.
“Nobody can understand the will of God,” he said quietly.
“You’ve just made my point! People can’t just accept that things happen, so they blame them all on a higher power and call it his will. It’s stupid.”
“So you think I’m stupid?”
“No. Just naïve.” She blushed a little since Travis was older than her own father. It didn’t matter, though. A person could be naïve at any age.
“Sidney, I pray that your eyes will open one of these days,” he said. “It would break Marjorie’s heart if you were unable to join her someday.”
She could have punched him. Wanted to punch him. But then she’d have been fired and stuck in the same sinking boat as Jessica.
“I appreciate your concern,” she said, her hands shaking with barely-controlled anger, “but let it go, okay? It’s a free country. I can believe whatever I want.”
He turned away to go back into the diner with his drink. “Doesn’t mean I can’t pray for you,” he said as he swung open the door with unnecessary force and left her alone once more.
JESSICA HAD been sitting at the kitchen table listening to the audio track from one of her digital voice recorders for about two hours when her cell phone rang.
She paused the track and pulled the phone out of her jeans pocket. The phone recognized the caller from Jessica’s short list of contacts and displayed the name of her sister—Rachel Schellenberger—on its tiny screen.
She’d been hoping it was a business calling her about a job interview, but her disappointment ended there. “Rachel!” she exclaimed. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Jess!” came the voice of her older sister, who lived hundreds of miles away in one of the suburbs of New York City. Rachel had changed apartments so many times in the past five years that Jessica could never remember where she currently lived. “How’s it going?”
“Not too good,” she said, “but it could be a whole lot worse. I still haven’t found a job, and I had to move out of my apartment today because I couldn’t afford it anymore. Other than that, I’m just peachy.”
“Aw, you should’ve told me you were broke! I’d have lent you some money.”
“I don’t want to be a burden on you guys. I’ll manage.”
“Whatever. Who’re you staying with?”
“Wayne and Sidney. Thank goodness for friends, huh?”
Rachel laughed. “So, are you and Wayne an item now or something?”
Of course that’s what Rachel would think. “Ask me that again, and I’ll punch you in the face.”
“Your arm can’t reach that far.”
“You want to see me try?”She changed the subject before Rachel could continue her interrogation about her and Wayne. “Anyway, what’s up with you? How’s Eric doing?” Eric Schellenberger was Rachel’s husband, and like Rachel herself, was a displaced Ohioan who had grown up in Eleanor.
“He’s doing great. His company laid off about half their office staff this past month, and he was one of the lucky ones who wasn’t forced to leave.” Jessica could hear a garbled cacophony on Rachel’s end o
f the line as her sister likely switched her phone to the other ear. “Hey, are you coming to the family reunion this Saturday?”
Jessica narrowed her eyes. Nobody had told her anything about such an event, which wasn’t too surprising since some of her relatives tended to forget she existed. “What family reunion?”
“The Reyes reunion. Mom and Dad are going. Didn’t they tell you about it?”
She snorted. “Do you really need me to answer that?”
“Point taken. But you’d better be there, because Eric and I are coming, and we haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Where are they having it?”
“The usual place: Campbell Community Park. The invitation says it starts at noon.”
So someone had mailed out invitations. They probably just hadn’t known her mailing address at the apartment and assumed that her parents would tell her about the event. “That’s the one in Cold Spring?”
“Yep.”
Cold Spring was a short hop across the river in Kentucky, the state where many members of the Reyes clan still lived. “I can try to make it,” Jessica said. She wished she could have used work as an excuse not to go. Maybe later on she could think of a better one.
“If you don’t show up,” Rachel said, “we’re going to hunt you down and drag you out there kicking and screaming.” She paused. “Oh, and before I forget, there’s something else I wanted to tell you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I’m pregnant.”
At first Jessica didn’t know what to say. Pregnant? As in, with child? Babies were mysterious creatures that she had only ever viewed from afar. That one would soon be joining their family was almost too strange for her to comprehend.
“You still there?” Rachel asked.
“I’m…yeah. I mean, congrats.”
“You don’t sound too pleased about it.”
Jessica laughed. “It’s the last thing I expected you to tell me.” Since Rachel and Eric were both young professionals, Jessica had always assumed that the couple would wait to have children when they were older. “When did you find out?”
“Two weeks ago. Both tests were positive.”
Jessica realized that she was grinning from ear to ear despite her shock. “So what do Mamá and Papá have to say about Baby Schellenberger?”
“They don’t know yet. I was going to call them next.”
“You don’t know how honored I am to hear that I got the news before them.”
“Don’t be too honored. It’s just they’re probably both at work right now and won’t have time to talk. Now I know you’re probably tired of hearing good news, but Eric and I decided we want to move back to Ohio.”
This was better news than that of rachel’s pregnancy. “I didn’t realize you missed me that much.”
“Who said I missed you? It’s cheaper to live in Cincinnati than out here. So there.” Rachel paused, and Jessica could hear a man’s voice saying something in the background. “Hey, I’ve got to hurry up and get off of here before my boss decides to fire me. Eric and I are flying out there on Thursday, and we’ll be staying with Uncle Esteban and Aunt Sharon for the weekend. I’ll call you when we get in. Okay?”
“Sounds good to me. Love you.”
“Love you too, Jess. See you Thursday.”
They disconnected, and Jessica leaned back in her chair, feeling elated. She hadn’t seen Rachel for nearly two years. Sure, they e-mailed each other all the time and chatted on the phone once or twice a month, but nothing in the world was better than sitting down with your only sister to play board games or cards and gossip for hours about everything under God’s blue sky.
She was about to continue listening to her recording when Sidney stormed in through the front door and slung her black leather handbag onto the countertop so hard that it knocked over a couple of pill bottles and an empty cup. One of the bottles fell onto the floor and rolled toward the table.
“I am going to kill Travis,” she announced, stooping to retrieve the bottle. Her face was the color of a beet. “And I will enjoy every minute of it.”
Surely Sidney hadn’t been laid off, too. Then Travis wouldn’t have had anyone to work at the gas station but himself. “What did he do?”
Sidney slammed the bottle back onto the counter and righted the other bottle and the cup. “He’s a Bible-thumper.”
Jessica started to laugh but stopped when Sidney glowered at her. “Since when has that been a problem?”
“Since we stopped seeing eye to eye on certain things. Evidently I’m going to hell.”
Jessica tried to keep a straight face. It was true that Travis attended church with regularity, though it wasn’t often that he discussed religion at the workplace. She must have been missing out on quite a lot since losing her job. “I’m sorry to hear it. What did he say?”
Sidney headed toward the staircase. “I’m not even going to get into it right now. I’ve got to finish my English assignment before it kills me.” She disappeared up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door closed moments later.
Jessica frowned. What in the world could her problem be? Sidney went to church, too. They usually sat together with Wayne on Sunday mornings. She’d have thought that Sidney and Travis had gotten into a dispute over doctrinal differences if it weren’t for the fact that Travis went to the same church they did.
She’d have to ask Sidney about it after she’d blown off some steam.
Jessica’s phone started ringing again when she reached to turn her recorder back on. Maybe Rachel was calling her back, or maybe this time it really was somebody requesting that she come in for an interview.
The number of the incoming call began with an 859 area code. Northern Kentucky. She had not applied for any out-of-state jobs, so it might have been one of her extended relatives calling her to ask why she hadn’t RSVPed to the family reunion she’d known nothing about.
She held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Jessica Roman-Dell?” asked an elderly man who had a stuffy head.
Her brow furrowed. “Yes,” she said, “this is she. I’m really sorry, but who is this?”
“My name’s Al Tumler. My sister says you know her.”
“I do? Who is she?”
“Ellen Shoushanian. Said you wanted to make a documentary about spirit sightings and gave me your number.”
Jessica was relieved that she had a connection to this man who knew her name and phone number. “I really appreciate you calling me! Ellen’s a nice woman. I don’t know her too well, but she always comes into the place where I work—used to work—to get her raspberry Snapple tea. I’m going to tell you right now that I’m not much of a pro at this whole ghost-hunting thing. I just thought it would be neat to compile my footage into one big documentary.”
“You record a lot of sightings?”
“To tell you the truth, no.”
The man’s soft chuckle turned into a gut-wracking cough that flooded the phone line for about ten seconds. The poor guy sounded like he was going to hack up a lung.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry about that. Woke up this morning with the granddaddy of all colds. Presided over a funeral earlier today and have been in bed ever since.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better soon.”
“You aren’t the only one, young lady. But as I was going to say, I’m the pastor at the United Methodist Church just south of Iron Springs. A lot of folks think the church grounds are haunted. Specifically, the graveyard.”
“Do you think they’re haunted?”
“I don’t know what to think. Some of the people who claim to have seen spirits out and about are some of the most honest folks you could ever meet. Doesn’t mean they weren’t just confused about whatever they saw.”
“What did they see?”
“It’s always different. That’s the funny thing. Some saw glowing orbs. Some saw shadows moving around, and nothing was there to cause them. And some say they feel like
they’re being watched.”
His description sounded typical of the many hauntings Jessica had read about. “Is there any particular time of day when these things happen?” she asked.
“No, it seems to happen pretty much any time. Morning. Night. Whenever.”
“And you’ve never seen any of this?”
“Can’t say I have. But I’ve only been pastor there five years. Could be if I’d been there longer, I’d have seen something.”
“Has anyone tried to take pictures when they saw these things?”
“Tried? Yes. My oldest daughter saw a shadow shaped like a person standing by the church steps a couple years back and snapped a picture on her cell phone, but the shadow person didn’t show up.”
Interesting. “So, when do you think is a good time for me to head out there?”
Mr. Tumler coughed. “Any weeknight’s fine with me. Tonight’s fine, too, but I won’t be there to show you around. Got to take care of this cold before it takes care of me, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t have any plans for tonight. What’s your church’s address?”
“It’s 876 Hill Road, just south of Iron Springs, like I said. There shouldn’t be anyone out there to bother you on a Tuesday night like this. If there is, let me know, and I’ll send the wrath of God upon him.”
“I don’t think that should be necessary. I carry a pepper spray in my purse.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. But still, you’ve gotta be careful out there.”
“Mr. Tumler?”
“Yes?”
“If I do capture footage of ghosts, do you want me to show it to you?”
“Young lady,” he said, “if you see a ghost and take a video of it, I couldn’t be more amazed than if a meteor fell from the sky and conked me upside the head. And I mean that, too.”
JERRY TRIED to pray, but every time he formed the words in his mind, they scattered like dead leaves caught in a current of wind. He could think of everything imaginable—memories of childhood, old friends, ideas he’d wanted his old English classes to discuss—yet he could not utter one single prayer.