Katherine's Prophecy

by Scott Wittenburg

  Moments later, he’d had the second one. He had crawled out of the creek bed—his leg had been injured—then with the aid of a fishing pole had managed to get up onto his feet. He’d had amnesia, and absolutely no idea who or where he was. Then his memory had returned. He recalled that his name was Clem Porter and that he had a wife named Nancy, and an infant daughter named Katie. He’d started hollering for his wife, whom he’d known was up at their house on top of the ravine doing the laundry. Nancy eventually heard his cries for help and had come down the path to rescue him. She’d helped him up the path—it had taken them a long time to climb it—and then they finally had made it to their house. They’d gone inside and he’d seen his baby daughter. Then the flashback had ended.

  Just before he and Emily had left the nursing home, he’d had a third flashback. Nancy had ordered him to take a hot bath and afterwards had helped him into bed. Then, after changing her clothes, she’d left the house and taken the buggy into town to find Doc Pritchart so that he could come and examine him. He’d fallen asleep in the meantime, but had awakened when Nancy returned with the doctor. After examining him, Doc Pritchart had given him some pills to take for the pain. Then the doctor had left.

  After this flashback, Lenny began realizing what was happening. He was recalling, in sequence, a particular day in Clem Porter’s life.

  And now, as he sat here staring out at the scenery in the midst of an untimely winter thaw, Lenny somehow knew that this particular day in Clem Porter’s life had been a significant one.

  He glanced over at Emily. She was sipping her coffee and her eyes were fixed on the road. So far, he thought, she had no idea what was going on. It was almost laughable—if not downright ironic—that the woman of his dreams was in fact his great-granddaughter from his past life.

  Not to mention downright weird . . .

  But it was a fact, like it or not. And it didn’t affect Lenny in the least with regard to the future. He was still in love with Emily Hoffman, and he was still going to marry her. Nothing could ever change that.

  But the ten thousand dollar question was this: How was he going to tell Emily what he knew, and at the same time effectively convince her that he wasn’t totally off his rocker in the process? He had no idea. All he knew at the moment was that he had to wait. That’s what that little voice inside was telling him to do.

  So wait, he would.

  Soon he would have another flashback. It was inevitable. There was nothing else to do for now but stare out the window and wait for it to happen.

  CHAPTER 26

  By the time the beige Volkswagen bus puttered past the sign marker denoting Ashland Falls’ city limits, Lenny Williams had practically forgotten who he truly was—

  He had just spent virtually the last half hour or so living and breathing as Clem Porter.

  And Clem Porter had been recalling his last day of life on earth . . .

  Lenny glanced over at Emily. She appeared to be concentrating on her driving, but he knew better. In reality, she was wondering what he’d been thinking about all this time.

  He now realized that it was absolutely imperative not to let Emily know about the flashbacks he’d been experiencing. He also knew why that little voice, which he now was certain was Clem Porter’s voice, had been cautioning him not to tell Emily anything all along.

  The reason was quite clear: John Hoffman’s crimes had been more heinous and abominable than Emily could ever imagine.

  And although John Hoffman was in fact innocent of the crime that had caused so much pain and misery for both Emily and Katherine Hoffman, he was instead guilty of something far more diabolical . . .

  Murder. First degree. Cold-blooded. Two counts.

  Not to mention kidnapping . . .

  And if Emily were to ever discover the truth—what her great-grandfather had really done on the night he had supposedly rescued her grandmother from that burning house—she undoubtedly would never be able to shake off the recurring nightmares that had plagued her for so long.

  As far as Lenny could surmise, Clem Porter apparently had a ‘mission,’ for lack of a better word. Clem had died wanting to avenge what John Hoffman had done to his wife and child. His last dying wish had been to see that the record was set straight and that justice would be served. And until this was carried out, John Hoffman’s spirit would continue haunting Emily in her sleep, as it had haunted Katherine in her sleep.

  John Hoffman was a free spirit—unconfined like the wind—and he had never been punished for his crimes while he lived as a mortal being. Clem’s mission was to see that John Hoffman’s spirit was put to rest, once and for all. Ironically, Emily was the key, as well as the victim. Once John Hoffman’s alleged crime had been effectively exorcised from her mind, Emily could be free at last to start leading a normal life. Clem would then be free to join Nancy and Katherine inside the pearly gates. And John Hoffman would almost certainly rot in Hell.

  Lenny realized that this was all mere speculation and that he was probably the least likely person on earth to be able to comprehend, much less conceive, what in the hell was going on here. Being mortal seemed to have a lot to do with it, plus the added handicap of his being neither a particularly religious nor spiritual individual. This was all way out of his league, he conceded—a job much better suited for a psychic, or a priest.

  But here he was, like it or not. Unqualified and stuck smack dab in the middle of the whole thing. His only cohort, his only ace in the hole, was Clem Porter. He had steered him this far, and hopefully, would get him all the way to home plate.

  Lenny lit up a cigarette and gazed out at the shops lining Hudson Street as the stark reality of this whole bizarre situation registered in his mind. He felt a sudden sympathy for the unfortunate individuals who had experienced similar “unexplained phenomena” such as this then made the mistake of trying to convince others that it really was happening; that they weren’t the loonies everyone thought them to be. But there wasn’t a soul on earth who would ever believe them, try as they may. Just as there wasn’t a soul on earth who would ever believe Lenny Williams.

  Which was exactly why Lenny Williams had already decided that he wasn’t going to tell a soul.

  All he wanted was to do whatever earthly possible to free Emily from her nightmares; so that they could get on with their lives together. And his only hope of accomplishing Clem’s “mission”—which in reality had become his own—was contingent upon one solitary shot in the dark.

  If his hunch was right, and luck was on his side, he just might be able to complete the mission.

  Otherwise, he wasn’t going to have an ice cube’s chance in Hell . . .

  “How much of the old house is still standing?” Lenny asked Emily.

  “What?” she said, obviously startled by the sudden break in silence.

  “The old house. What’s left of it?”

  Emily eyed him curiously. “Not much, really. Charred boards and rubble; that’s about it. And the chimney. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. Let’s go check it out.”

  CHAPTER 27

  There was a nip in the air as they trudged along the slushy path, hinting that the unlikely winter thaw was to be only a brief one. To the north, Emily spotted a huge bank of leaden gray clouds swooping across the sky, promising another snowstorm before nightfall. Winter was far from being over in the Catskill Mountains.

  Cassie was twenty yards ahead, stopping every now and then to sniff the air as she zigzagged rambunctiously along the path. Emily glanced over at Lenny walking beside her and gave his hand a light squeeze, wondering what he was thinking about. She’d played the morning over and over in her mind a dozen times since leaving her house, but she still was at a complete loss as to what was happening. Lenny had been so quiet since they left the nursing home and she still wasn’t fully convinced that he and Miss Rutledge hadn’t discussed something she should know about while she’d left them alone in the room. She hated doubting Lenny’s word—it made he
r feel paranoid—but she would bet her eyetooth that he was holding something back.

  Her only consolation was in knowing that if there truly was something he was keeping from her, that it couldn’t be too awfully significant. After all, he and Miss Rutledge barely knew each other; how important could it be? She still wished she knew why Miss Rutledge had suddenly acted so strange, though . . .

  “How much further?” Lenny asked.

  “About a quarter of a mile,” she replied.

  Emily hesitated a moment then said, “What’s the matter, Lenny?”

  He looked over and smiled reassuringly. “Nothing, honey. Why do you ask?”

  “You’ve been so quiet—ever since we left the nursing home. I guess I’m just not used to you being so . . . quiet.”

  Lenny halted abruptly and faced her. “I’m sorry, Emily. I know I haven’t been very conversational. It’s just that I’ve been sort of contemplating things. You know, so much has happened so fast and I, well, sometimes I feel like I have to think things through at times. To sort of put things into perspective. I guess it’s just my nature.”

  Emily said, “I suppose I know what you mean. I’m the same way. I guess I just need to know that everything’s okay. That we’re okay.”

  Lenny took her in his arms and kissed her. He then gazed into her eyes and said, “Well, what do you think?”

  Emily smiled brightly. “We’re fine!”

  Lenny grinned as they resumed their trek.

  Within another thirty yards or so, Lenny began feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The surroundings suddenly looked familiar—the trees, the brush lining the path, the path itself. He had walked along this path before, he thought. Many times in fact; when he’d lived here in another life. He knew exactly where they were now and what lay ahead. The path would run another hundred feet or so, turn gradually to the right for a short distance then cut back sharply to the left. Then after another fifty feet, the path would gradually widen into a road until it finally merged into a large clearing that would be surrounded by towering oak, maple, and birch trees. Near the center of the clearing and off to the right would be the house. Or at least what was left of the house. Across from the house, near the tree line, would be the barn. And beyond the barn there would be a path that cut back into the woods and ran along the edge of the ravine.

  Lenny soon became aware of a faint ringing sound that grew increasingly louder with each step he took and a tingling sensation in his extremities. He broke out in a cold sweat and for a moment thought he was going to pass out. He continued walking as if none of this was happening; praying Emily didn’t notice.

  The path cut to the right as Lenny struggled to keep his equilibrium. The ringing sound had increased to a nearly unbearable intensity as he felt the pressure build up in his eardrums. His heart started racing sporadically and he suddenly felt as though he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, causing him to panic. He squeezed Emily’s hand and shut his eyes, hoping to ward off his uneasiness. She squeezed his hand in reply and then, like magic, the ringing subsided as his heart rate and respiration leveled-out to a steady rhythm. A gust of wind suddenly hit him head-on and Lenny felt the feverish feeling and tingling promptly diminish.

  Lenny breathed an inward sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure if what he’d just experienced had been an anxiety attack or something else. He only knew that he felt uncomfortable being here all of a sudden, and couldn’t wait to get this over with then get the hell out ASAP.

  “We’re almost there,” Emily announced.

  Lenny saw the clearing a short distance ahead.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” she added.

  Lenny looked over at Emily and merely shrugged his shoulders.

  They reached the clearing and Lenny looked to his right, and then let out a gasp -

  Could what he was seeing actually once been his happy home?

  His heart sank.

  The home his father had struggled for over two long years to build had been leveled to the ground. His house, along with Nancy and himself, had been all but reduced to ashes.

  And his beautiful baby daughter had been taken away from him in the process.

  Had this really been his happy home?

  “Lenny?”

  He couldn’t take his eyes away. “Yes?” he muttered, his voice not his own.

  “What do you think?” he heard Emily say.

  They ambled on toward the house.

  “Not much left,” he mumbled.

  “I told you that you’d be disappointed.”

  Lenny stared at the well pump. How many times had he and Nancy pumped water from that well? He glanced over at the pile of weathered boards that had once been his barn and wondered what had ever become of Betsy, the old mare that had taken Nancy and himself into town on so many occasions. Had Hoffman taken her as his own, or had he destroyed her just as he’d destroyed everything else?

  His eyes returned to the house as he felt his blood begin to boil. If only he hadn’t been so utterly defenseless that night! he thought. If only he’d known that John Hoffman had had no intention of firing that pistol. Then he could have overpowered him, in spite of his bad leg, and saved his family. But he hadn’t known . . .

  The image of John Hoffman standing before Nancy’s naked body, plunging his pistol inside of her, flashed through his mind and he grimaced. His lovely wife, totally helpless, terrorized then pistol-whipped by a man who had no right to even exist. He could still hear her screams, high-pitched and hysterical, as Hoffman performed his perverse assault on her. He saw the pistol come down, striking her on the head. She slumped to the floor, lying in a pool of blood, her eyes frozen in the terror of the moment.

  He could see the expression on John Hoffman’s face, standing near the door with Katie tucked under his arm, just before he struck the match. That maniacal, self-righteous expression of a man who always got what he wanted and who had just committed the perfect crime. “Sorry it had to end this way, Clem,” he’d chanted. “But I must take what’s rightfully mine.”

  But Katie wasn’t John Hoffman’s child. Katie was his child. Why in the name of Christ had he said that? And why had he sensed that Nancy knew something about Hoffman that he didn’t?

  In a moment, he would find out. God willing . . .

  As they approached the well pump, he felt the presence of his wife and daughter. Their ashes were now a part of the very earth on which he stood. Their souls were together in Heaven, awaiting him . . .

  When they reached the pump, Lenny stopped momentarily and grasped the handle in his hand then tried to work it. It wouldn’t budge. Breathing a long sigh, he stood and watched Cassie as she sniffed around in the debris. He glanced over at Emily, who was staring at him. He smiled at her weakly.

  “Life goes on,” he said quietly.

  “It’s sad, isn’t it?” Emily said. “It tears me up every time I see this place. Yet, in a way it’s an inspiration to go on living. To not take for granted the gift of life and be thankful for what you have.”

  Lenny nodded then kissed her. “I know what you mean.”

  With that, he strode over to the house and stepped into its foundation. He scanned the charred remains for a couple of moments then made his way toward the fireplace, kicking a couple of boards aside with his foot along the way. When he reached the blackened stone fireplace, he stared at an area just below the mantel then glanced inquisitively at Emily standing beside him.

  “Doesn’t the mortar around this stone look a little odd to you?” he said, pointing to one of the stones.

  Emily eyed the stone he was referring to and placed a finger in the gap formed by the crumbled mortar. “I’ve never noticed this before. It looks as though it’s been purposely cleared away from the stone.”

  Lenny reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his keys then began scraping away at the loose mortar.

  “Surely you don’t think . . .” Emily started to say.

  �
�That this could be a hiding place of some kind?” Lenny interjected. “I don’t know, but it could be.”

  Lenny continued scraping the mortar until he had one side cleared out enough to get his finger in more than half way. He began scraping the other side and in a few moments had it cleared out as well. Then he grasped both sides of the stone with his fingers and pulled. It didn’t budge.

  For a fleeting moment Lenny thought he might have picked the wrong stone but then decided he hadn’t. Emily looked on as he took the key and began scraping out the mortar from the top and bottom of the stone. The mortar there was considerably denser and took nearly ten minutes to scrape away.

  “Here goes,” Lenny finally said, again grasping either side of the stone and pulling. It moved a little, but not much. He then began jiggling the stone from side to side until it loosened itself up from the mortar. Finally, it slid out in one smooth motion, the resultant grating sound hollow and ominous.

  They both saw the side of the steel box at the same time and stared at each other in disbelief. Lenny tossed the stone aside then reached in and pulled out the box. It looked just as it had before, apparently unaffected by the outside elements. Stored safely in its insulated nook, the steel box had survived fire, rain, snow, and God only knows what else for nearly a century.

  “My god, Lenny! I can’t believe it! Open it up!” Emily cried excitedly.

  Before he did so, Lenny made a silent prayer that the contents of the box would be intact and that they would tell Emily everything she needed to know.

  He placed the box in Emily’s hand and removed the lid.

  There on top were several pages of neatly folded and yellowed writing paper.

  Nancy’s letter, Lenny thought to himself. He took out the letter and spotted several other documents inside. Realizing that he had absolutely no recollection of what they were, Lenny gazed at Emily, who was staring excitedly at the letter in his hand.