by John Inman
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s dig.” After a moment of hesitation, I added, “What are we looking for?”
Sam refused to answer, which told me more than I wanted to know.
At that moment, my cell phone chirped somewhere upstairs, and all three of us leaped straight up into the air. A split second later, the house gave a shudder around us as if it had slipped a few inches into the ground. I could feel the jarring movement underfoot. Windows rattled upstairs. Thumper whimpered from beneath her dusty blanket in the corner.
When wooden beams suddenly creaked and groaned in the ceiling and dust sifted down onto our heads, we all jumped again.
“Oh, dear,” I said. “Did we do that with the hammer?”
“No,” Sam said. “Somebody’s mad, and it ain’t us.” His eyes were as big as tennis balls while he surveyed the ceiling as if he didn’t quite trust it not to come crashing down on top of us.
I nodded. “You’re right. It must be Sally on the phone.”
Upstairs in the kitchen, we heard my phone chirp again. Well, actually, it emitted half a chirp, then the chirping abruptly ceased when the basement floor shuddered beneath our feet and a huge boom echoed through the house. Sam and I cringed away from the sound.
“Uh-oh,” Timmy said, standing beside me clutching my trouser leg. Sam and I gazed down at him, and I’m pretty sure I blanched. I hate it when I blanch. Sam didn’t look too spunky either.
“The uh-ohs again,” I groaned. “What is it this time?”
Timmy sadly shook his head. “You ain’t gonna like it.”
“Why, what’s Daddy going to do?”
Timmy stuck his finger up his nose and started rooting around for gold. I guess paranormal activity was getting to be old hat to him. “I think he already did it.”
“Oh God. And stop picking your nose.”
With a final shudder, the house settled into stillness. I had the oddest sensation it was expectantly waiting—but waiting for what?
I scooped Timmy into my arms, Sam gathered up Thumper, and with heavy hearts, the four of us trooped up the basement stairs to see what we would find.
Whatever it turned out to be, I had a feeling Timmy was right. I wouldn’t like it at all.
Chapter 12
WE STOOD in the kitchen doorway like a mismatched collection of pastries, two large and one small, slathered in icings of brick dust and sweat. We stared into the kitchen, speechless.
But that didn’t last long.
“This ain’t good,” Sam finally said.
“No shit,” I agreed, while Timmy happily squirmed in my arms, trying to get down.
“Told ya you wouldn’t like it,” he tittered as I stood him on his feet in front of me.
The remnants of my cell phone were everywhere: littered across the kitchen counter, sprinkled in the sink, sparkling over the tile floor from one end of the room to the other like a scattering of shiny gemstones cast there by the gods. The phone wasn’t just smashed. It was almost vaporized. There didn’t seem to be a piece of plastic, metal, or circuitry left that was any bigger than a raisin. I couldn’t have done a finer job of killing it if I’d used the sledgehammer and three sticks of dynamite.
I was pretty sure my phone had chirped its last chirp.
I turned away from the destruction and looked down to study Timmy’s upturned face. “Guess it was Mommy who called, huh, and Daddy didn’t like it?”
Timmy tittered again, throwing my own words back in my face. “No shit.”
“Watch your mouth,” Sam and I said in absentminded unison, and Timmy had the good grace to pretend to look guilty. Sam set Thumper at Timmy’s feet. The dog gave herself a good shake, creating a little cloud of brick dust. Then she sneezed.
Sam caught my eye, and I was surprised to see him smiling too. “Two disintegrated phones in two weeks,” he said. “Your cell phone provider will be thrilled. He’ll probably send you a thank-you card.”
It was then that the wall phone jangled in the corner by the kitchen table, startling the bejesus out of all four of us. I had forgotten about the landline. As soon as my heart stopped yammering in my throat, I crunched my way across the kitchen floor, smashing the shattered pieces of my poor murdered cell phone even flatter.
I snatched the receiver off the wall and barked, “What!”
Sally’s voice was cold. No hello, no kiss my ass, just, “Put Timmy on. Now.”
I was in no mood to argue. I handed the phone to my nephew. He wasn’t used to wielding a humongous dinosaur receiver in his tiny four-year-old paw. He fumbled around for a minute before he got the right end of it up to his ear where he wanted it.
“Hello?” he said, all innocence and sweetness. Then his face lit up. “Hi, Mommy!”
Sam and I were eyeing the house around us, wondering what it was going to do in response to this newest intrusion by our ghost’s most hated enemy—my sister.
But the house seemed to be listening in on Timmy’s conversation as raptly as Sam and I were. It didn’t make a peep, and neither did we. We stood there staring down at the boy, hanging on to every word.
“We’re playing,” Timmy said into the mouthpiece, obviously in response to a question.
I could hear the sharp drone of Sally’s voice coming through the receiver from where I stood. She didn’t sound any happier speaking to Timmy than she had when speaking to me. She was so mad, and her voice cut the air with such vicious clarity, I could overhear every word she said to him.
“Who’s playing?”
“Me and my uncles.”
“You mean uncle. Singular. My idiot brother, Jason, is the only uncle you have. And he’s one too many.”
Timmy laughed. “That’s not true! Sam’s here too! He’s another uncle! I think they’re boyfriends!”
Sally appeared to be rendered speechless by that announcement. At least, for a moment. “Who else are you playing with? And what are you playing?”
Timmy gazed up at me when he answered. His big blue eyes, so filled with guileless innocence, nailed me to the spot where I was standing. And yet I think he knew what he was doing full well. There was a hint of in-your-face bravado in his voice when he said to Mommy, “We’re looking for Daddy. I think he’s mad at you.”
Sally’s voice jumped an octave on that one. I rather suspected it would. “What do you mean you’re looking for Daddy? Daddy’s gone, Timmy. Don’t you remember? We’ve talked about this before. He left us. Now we’ve got Jack, honey. Jack’s your daddy now.”
Timmy didn’t buy that one any more than I did. “Jack just acts like he likes me, but we never play. He just looks at me like he wishes I’d go someplace else.”
Ouch, I thought. From the mouth of babes.
Apparently, Sally wasn’t in the mood to argue the nurturing talents of her lover. “What do you mean your daddy’s mad at me? He’s nowhere around; how could you possibly know if he’s mad at me? And when did your daddy’s brother get there? Sam,” she snapped, as if she couldn’t believe she was even uttering the word. “When did Sam get there?”
Timmy wasn’t up to counting days. “Dunno. A while, I guess.” His face lit into a smile. “Daddy plays with me! The other day he put me in a tornado!”
“I seriously doubt it,” Sally snapped again. “Put your uncle on the phone. Not Sam. Jason. Put Jason on the phone. Now.”
Timmy held the phone out to me with both hands. “I think you’re in trouble,” he whispered as I plucked it from his grasp.
“It won’t be the first time,” I whispered back, giving him a hearty smile conjured from sheer imagination and a forced joviality dredged up from the bottom of my feet for the kid’s benefit alone.
Sam gave me a cluck of sympathy. He started dragging a broom around the kitchen floor sweeping up the remnants of my cell phone, but his eyes stayed on me every second. He didn’t look too jovial either.
Sally’s voice was like a knife stabbing into my ear. “What the hell are you playing at, and why haven’t you been
answering your phone?”
I found a stubborn streak buried somewhere in my psyche and dragged it out where it could be of use. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking me, Sis.”
“Horseshit!” Sally spat. “Not answering my phone calls is bad enough, but why are you even mentioning Timmy’s father to him? He doesn’t need to feel any more abandoned than he probably already does.”
“I don’t think—”
“And what did Timmy mean when he said you were looking for Daddy? Is this some sort of weird hide and seek game, or are you actually rooting through the house trying to unearth Paul? You’re certifiable, you know that, Jason? As soon as I can get there, I’m going to yank that kid out of your clutches, and you’ll never see him again.”
I had been fighting with my sister since the day I was born. I could hold my own pretty well after all those years of practice. “Like you did with Sam’s family? Why did you cut them out of Timmy’s life, Sally? Why would you deprive Timmy of his only grandparents? Our folks are gone, but don’t you think Timmy might have enjoyed his other grandparents showing up once in a while to make him feel loved and dote over him and swamp him with presents? Huh? Why would you isolate the kid like that?”
When I started my rant, I was relieved to see Sam scoop Timmy into his arms and lug him out to the backyard. I could see them now through the kitchen window, standing under the orange tree and talking quietly. Sam was on his knees in front of the boy. Timmy looked sad. Damn. I hoped that wasn’t because of what I’d said in front of him.
Sally was so furious her voice trembled. “How I raise my son is nobody’s business but my own. As for Paul, I’d prefer to leave him in the past where he belongs, and if you have a problem with that, frankly, Jason, I don’t care. Who are you to tell me otherwise? Maybe I had my reasons for cutting off Paul’s family. Did you ever think of that?”
“What sort of reasons?” I asked. “Give me a list. Explain it to me so I’ll understand.”
“Fuck you, Jason. And I don’t want Paul’s brother anywhere near my son. Make him leave.”
“No. They love each other. And I love Sam. You had no right to exclude him, Sal. You’re breaking a lot of hearts. You know that?”
No answer. Her silence was glacial. “Where are you?” I finally asked.
She ignored that. “Answer my question, Jason. What did Timmy mean when he said you were looking for Paul? What, you think I don’t know what you’re doing? You hate Jack, so you’re trying to alienate Timmy’s affections. Make him hate Jack too.”
“He already hates Jack! Hell, if you weren’t so blinded by Jack’s dick, or whatever it is you like about the creep, you’d realize we all hate him.”
Sally’s voice seethed. She was furious. “As soon as I can get there, you’re history, Jason. You’ll never see my son again.”
“What are you so afraid of, Sally? What do you know about Paul’s disappearance that I don’t? Timmy thinks he’s here in this house. What do you think of that?”
Sally snorted a nasty laugh. “He’s four years old, for Christ’s sake. If he thinks his father’s in that house, it’s only because you put the idea into his head yourself. But wait, let me get this straight. Are you saying you believe him?”
I didn’t laugh at all, nasty or otherwise. I let the words come in a fevered whisper. Sam and Timmy were still in the backyard. My words would be heard by Sally alone. And I knew I was risking everything by uttering them.
“I’m starting to believe him, yes. Some crazy stuff is happening in this house. Stuff that is absolutely unexplainable. I’d like to see it explained.”
Sally’s voice came through the line like a swarm of hornets—vicious and threatening. “Enjoy your next few hours with my son. When Jack and I get there, you’ll never see him again. And that goes for your boyfriend too.”
“Jack,” I murmured, sarcastic as hell.
“Yes, Jack,” she snapped. “And he’s furious.”
“This has nothing to do with him.”
“That’s what you think.”
I was so mad now, my hands were beginning to shake. Before I could think of a comeback, I felt cool fingers at the back of my neck. I turned to find Sam, concern etched across his face. I glanced through the kitchen window and saw Timmy still out by the orange tree. He was sitting with his back against the trunk, laboriously peeling an orange.
“Hang up,” Sam said softly. “You’re so mad you look like you’re about to go up in flames. Let it go, and hang up before you have a heart attack.”
He laid his hand on my cheek and gently pulled the receiver from my hand. “Good-bye, Sally,” he said into the mouthpiece and quietly hung up the phone.
Before the connection was severed, I heard her yelling curse words at Sam.
I closed my eyes. Shit. This was getting worse all the time.
Sam pulled me into his arms. He held me for a moment while my fiercely stampeding heart clattered between us.
“We have work to do,” he said. “That okay? You promised, Jason. You promised we’d see this through.”
I laid my cheek to his and breathed in his scent. He smelled of brick dust and sweat and the pungent scent of citrus. He must have been climbing in the orange tree. I couldn’t not say the words I had said so many times before. Somehow, they were words that made everything else seem reasonable and sane. They almost made me forget the fears I was beginning to harbor concerning my sister. Impossible fears. Horrifying. Fears I knew couldn’t possibly be true, but fears I couldn’t seem to shake no matter what I did.
“I love you, Sam.” I let my eyes wander to the window—to Timmy out there on the lawn still eating his orange. So young and innocent and pure. Thumper was lying beside him under the tree, already asleep, enjoying the shade. Enjoying Timmy’s nearness. I was almost thunderstruck by the sudden rush of love I felt for the boy. And for Sam. Hell, even for Thumper. They were my family. All of them.
Sam smiled against my cheek. “I love you too, Jason.” And after a heartbeat, he added, “You got a shovel? Let’s finish what we started.”
I grunted and pushed him to arm’s length. Smiling a sad smile, I said, “I guess we’d better see it through, then. Proving it’s all a misunderstanding is the only way we’ll ever get this family put back together again. If it isn’t too late already.”
Sam brushed a smear of brick dust from my nose with his fingertip. “I’m sorry,” he said.
I nodded. “I know you are. So am I.”
I gazed through the kitchen window one more time to check on Timmy. I was surprised to see the shadows had shifted. It was afternoon already. And getting late.
“Timmy needs to eat,” I said. “And so do we. Let’s take a break.”
“Then we finish what we started?”
“Yes, Sam, then we finish what we started.”
He went to fetch the boy while I puttered around the kitchen preparing to feed a hunger I didn’t feel. I wondered if Sally would really cut me out of Timmy’s life. I suspected she would do exactly as she said. She had shown no qualms about shutting Sam out. Or Sam’s family.
I began to realize there was a fundamental element missing in my sister’s genetic makeup.
She didn’t seem to have a heart.
And that scared me more than everything else put together.
TIMMY YAWNED all the way through the meal, so as soon as he was finished eating, I laid him on the sofa in the living room with his best friend at his side. He and Thumper were snoring like buzz saws in a matter of moments.
Sam and I spent the longest time silently sipping coffee in the kitchen, unwinding, thinking our own private thoughts. It wasn’t until later, as we were cleaning up the dishes, that the words began to flow. And once they began, there was no stopping them.
“I want Timmy with us when we work,” I said. “I’m afraid to leave him up here on his own. As soon as he’s up, we’ll start. Okay?”
“Yes. I don’t want to leave him alone either. Your
ghost has some power in him, disintegrating the phone like that. I know he won’t turn that power on Timmy, but still….”
“Sam, we don’t know anything of the kind. I don’t think we really understand what’s going on here. Am I crazy to think it’s really that boy’s father who’s haunting my house? Am I crazy to think maybe my sister had something to do with the fact that Paul is gone? God help me, am I starting to believe the things you believe? But, dammit, she’s just so murderously cold sometimes.”
The moment I realized what I’d said, I tried to backpedal like mad. Murderously. Why had I said that? “What I just said, Sam. I didn’t mean what it sounded like I meant.”
Sam didn’t look any happier than I did with my word choice, but he did manage to dredge up a smile at my last comment. “Terrible sentence, Jason. Funky grammar. I know you didn’t mean what it sounded like you meant, but still….” His voice trailed away.
“Still what?” I asked, leery, sorry I’d asked the question the second it was out of my mouth.
Sam didn’t look any happier about answering. “Still, I think there’s some truth in it somewhere. The things you said. The words you used. I think Sally does know what happened here. I think Paul knows it too. Maybe not Paul, but Paul’s… spirit. I think maybe he’s trying to make us understand as well.”
Sam was washing dishes at the sink. He stood there with a plate in his hand, staring through the window over the sink, his mind seemingly a million miles away.
I touched his arm. “What is it, Sam? What are you thinking?”
He turned his brown eyes to me, and if our conversation had concerned anything other than what it had, I would have melted beneath his gaze. As it was, I merely cringed, afraid to know what he was about to say, but needing to hear it anyway.
I didn’t have to wait very long.
“Sometimes, Jason, I find myself wondering if we should stop what we’re doing and let the boy go back to his mother and live out the rest of his life without digging into the mystery of his father and everything else that’s going on around us. I mean, Timmy’s only four years old. He’ll forget it all in time. Won’t he?”