She didn’t; instead she talked about coming home.
Cole said, “Please don’t overreact, Genie. Way to make me feel incompetent and irrelevant. It’s like those times when we were kids—you ignored me for days at a time, and I felt invisible. You damaged my self-esteem, I bet.”
“You seem to have recovered somehow,” she said, and laughed just a little.
But Geneva was always a sucker for a guilt trip. She was not even two years older than Cole, and Heaven knows now he was a lot bigger, but she had always been protective of him. He could imagine that protectiveness multiplied in regards to her kids.
She said, “I guess you’re right. I love being here with Ben, but I miss home too. How did you manage it all that time?”
“Ben had it worse. I didn’t have a wife and kids at home.”
“Point taken,” she said.
Ben said on the other extension, “Thanks, Cole, we owe you. Guess we’ve said that, but—”
“Yeah, I know, man. We’re family. I love those kids too, but I think they might be smarter than me.”
Genie said, “I guess as long as you knew what they were up to . . . I mean . . .”
Clearly she was still uncertain.
Cole said, “I wouldn’t let anything happen to them, you know that, but I just have to make them understand that going outside at night—well, I don’t want to scare them too much either. I thought you should know, and would welcome suggestions.”
His sister said again, “Maybe I should come back—”
Both men said together, “No, don’t do that.”
She sighed. “All right, but call me and let me know if it happens again. I guess it might be frowned upon to chain them to their beds . . .”
Cole heard her husband say, “Honey, they are boys, and you heard it too: There are frogs over there. Cut them some slack.”
“You say that like I’m supposed to understand that sentiment,” she said, but then Cole heard her laugh.
Things would be okay—he’d make sure they were.
He said, “You guys know anything about the house next door? The kids said it might be haunted.”
He wasn’t prepared for the response—bursts of laughter.
His buddy said, “Cole, I think those kids got your number.”
“Yeah, right, okay, enough said. Have fun, I’ll make sure things are secure on the home front.”
After he got off the connection, he checked on the kids again. Megan was missing in action, but to his relief, she had only moved over with Perry. Adam was snoozing with his mouth open. It made him look even younger.
Cole decided that he’d set up some sort of trap to make noise if they meant to get out of the house again. Empty cans were good for that—simple, but that might be too obvious. Maybe some string attached if the door opened that would . . .
He spent the rest of the afternoon securing the house . . . or so he thought.
~~~
Things were okay for a while . . . mostly because the boys were grounded, and so they were watching their step, he was sure. Besides, it had been rainy, and going outside, especially at night, was not all that pleasant.
The boys were subdued, but Megan was like an echo in reverse—she did everything they did too, only she did it just a bit bigger, a little bit better. She was scary-smart, Geneva had said, and Cole was wondering what the future would hold for her.
Finally, Cole figured the kids had learned their lesson, and he stopped setting up the booby traps meant to wake him if they tried to go out.
He completely forgot about the big tree out Megan’s window though. And seems the boys weren’t the problem after all.
One night, Megan again saw the lady, the ghost, out her window, and the boys heard her leave. She saw them come after too, but didn’t say anything to stop them.
After making their way into the other yard, the kids just watched for a while as the lady took a hoe to the ground between some of the statues and then got on her hands and knees and began to weed.
Suddenly, the lady rose up and went over to the lily pad pond. She glanced back to where they stood still half-hidden near the shrubs, but didn’t say anything.
“She’s going to fall in,” Perry said.
Was that hoping she would?
Adam said, “No, look, she’s walking in, not falling. Maybe she’s after some of the frogs. They say people eat them—their legs, at least. I wonder if they just throw the bodies back in after they hacked them off. I wonder if that’s why they put the frogs into the pond in the first place.”
Megan cried out, and Adam shushed her.
Then Perry started to complain about being cold in the rain, and so Adam said they should go in again.
Megan insisted they help instead. She said, “It’s barely raining at all. Look, the drain there is clogged, and the pump won’t work.”
“How do you know that?”
“Miss Mildred said it’s making a funny noise when they turned it on.”
Adam said, mockingly, “Miss Mildred said.”
Megan wasn’t waiting; she went into the water to help. With all the rain lately, the level in the pond was higher than it had been before—it was up to her waist now.
Perry said, “I don’t want to go in the water.”
Adam said, “Then go home, baby.”
“I’m not a baby, I’m almost eight.”
Adam said, “Not even close.”
Megan said, “Look over there, she’s been weeding in the flower beds. Why don’t you go help with that instead?”
Perry considered and said, “Okay. But I’m not a baby, I’m older than Megan.”
Adam said, “Come on, you guys, be quiet, we’re going to get in trouble. I’ll never get to ride my bike again.”
Megan said, “Only if you keep yelling, because the ghost lady isn’t telling.”
Perry giggled, and Megan as well.
“I’m not yelling,” Adam said, but definitely now lower in volume himself.
He sighed then, but stepped in. “Here, let me do that, you’re going to ruin your night gown and Uncle Cole will ground me again. You go help Perry instead.”
Megan had trouble getting out, and the kids were surprised that the lady reached over to help her. Ghosts were supposed to be vapor.
The woman smiled slightly, but didn’t say anything—it’s like her eyes didn’t blink at all. But as she lifted Megan out, the lady’s big floppy hat fell away and into the pond.
Adam went to retrieve it from the water, but Perry called fiercely, “Uncle Cole—his light is on!”
The kids scrambled and were back through the shrubs to their own yard in an instant. The lady in the garden didn’t seem to notice, just got on with her work.
They scampered up the tree outside Megan’s window—difficult with wet clothes now—and into her bedroom just as her light came on.
~~~
The next morning it was still raining, but the sky looked like it would be clearing soon. Like every other morning since she’d moved here, Lucy looked outside to the garden, just to see what kind of day it might be.
The water level in the lily pad pond had definitely gone up—it was obvious now that some of the lily pads had moved somehow, and some of the slime was gone too. But was that . . . yes, it sounded like the pumps were now on. Would the frogs like that or not? Did frogs eat mosquitoes at all?
If I was a frog, I would. It would serve them right; mosquitoes have to be on this earth for some purpose.
Frogs . . . none of them enchanted princes, I bet, but danged if she was going to start kissing any of them to see. Not that she was a princess, so it didn’t matter anyway. Maybe she’d turn into a frog instead, and then where would she be?
She thought: Happy in the lily pad pond?
The teakettle whistled; Lucy made her tea and went back out to the sun porch to sip while she looked for anything else that might be blooming in the garden soon. There were some crocuses she had noticed before as she w
alked out to her car, but the weeds had overwhelmed them.
But for some reason, she could see them more clearly now . . . and funny, what was that big thing floating in the lily pad pond?
She rushed to set her tea down, but burned her fingers in the process when it spilled. Didn’t matter, she had to know, and quickly too. She rushed down the stairs and through the house and out the back door. It was only drizzling now, but she didn’t notice that, nor that she wore no shoes or boots.
Lucy carefully waded out into the pond to retrieve the floating hat. It was wet, of course, but no more worse for wear. She shook the extra water away as she walked towards the back door with it held away from her.
To her surprise, Mildred Fillmore was standing there, watching.
Lucy felt a little foolish. She said, “This is yours, I believe.”
She held it out. Mildred didn’t reach to take it.
Instead, the elderly woman said, “It’s ours, actually. I was wondering when you were going to notice.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh dear, maybe I should have said something earlier.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come inside, I want to show you something.”
Lucy did, but wrung the water from the hem of her robe first.
The woman said, “Hang the hat over there, the draft from the air vent will help dry it quicker.”
Lucy did, and didn’t complain when the woman put a small, old quilt around her shoulders, while she mumbled, “You’ll catch your death.”
“Thank you, Miss Fillmore, but I don’t want to ruin this, it looks like something that should have been in the old museum here before.”
“It was my baby quilt, actually, so yes, it’s old, but no, it’s not all that dear. Children are dearer, don’t you think?”
What was that supposed to mean?
Lucy stepped away a bit.
Miss Fillmore said, “Come along, this will explain a few things. And do call me Mildred.”
They went upstairs to Miss Mildred’s rooms. It was more books and shelves than furniture. This must have been a library or schoolroom way back when. The elderly woman moved some things so that Lucy could sit. Then the woman took a picture off the wall and put it into her hands.
It was one of those of women in the garden in old-fashioned dress, but Lucy hadn’t seen this particular one before. Even so, it looked a little . . . familiar.
“What—?”
It was all she could manage.
Miss Mildred pointed and said, “This woman, she’s my mother when she was a young woman.”
“She’s lovely.”
Miss Mildred smiled, and then pointed to the other as she said, “And this girl?”
Was that a question? Ah, the hat—it was the same one floating in the lily pad pond, at least, it looked the same. Probably not the actual same one though, she thought.
Lucy said, “It’s funny, but she looks familiar. Is she in some of the other pictures around the house?”
“No, just this one. She should look familiar though, she’s you’re grandmother.”
Lucy almost dropped the picture. She felt faint. Miss Mildred quickly poured her a glass of something. Lucy thankfully took a drink and gagged—it was gin.
Lucy demanded, “What—?”
But again, it was all she could manage.
“You’re grandmother and I were dear friends. When she got that terrible news about the accident, when she knew she was dying, she dictated a letter to a nurse who was kind enough to see that it got to me.”
“A letter?”
“Nothing dramatic, my dear, just what happened, and asking me to look after you. I’ve done the best I could.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I own this house. I own half of the old part of town as well—at least, my father did, and I was the only child left by the time . . . Well, that’s done. I also own some in the newly developed parts of the county and the businesses too, including the company where you work.”
“The company where I work . . . How could that be? How could you know I’d come here to—?”
Then it was obvious. Lucy said, “You put the employment ad in the local paper when I came home. It was a Godsend, I must admit.”
Miss Mildred only nodded, and then took the gin away. She sniffed it first, then tossed it into the sink and rinsed the glass before bringing water instead.
Lucy took that, gratefully. Then she said, “But how did you know I’d come here—to this house, I mean?”
Then she remembered the friend of a friend knew the owner . . . small world, her parents’ church.
Miss Mildred said, “I knew you’d find it, one way or another. You are your grandmother’s granddaughter.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Your grandmother couldn’t resist the Big Tower either. And we used to play in the garden house whenever she came visiting. We had lovely tea parties.”
Lucy took another drink of water, looking around the room. It was much like the rest of the house, and she suspected that it had always been like this. It must be hard for the woman to—
Lucy blurted, “But it sounds like you have plenty of assets, why would you turn your home into . . .”
“Into a boarding house? I was lonely? I thought it was amusing? I felt sorry for people? Whatever reasons, they don’t really matter, for I have never regretted it.”
Sorry for people . . .
Then Lucy looked to the picture again.
She said, “So you think I look like her?”
“You do. She was a lovely girl, just like you. She had spark too, and I can see you inherited that. You have a home here for as long as you like. I have no other family left . . . either. By the way, I own some of these houses in the neighborhood too—they were the homes of the executives who worked for my great grandfather who built the local industry and also this house. I rent them now to people who can appreciate their style and history. You might hear stories . . . rumor has it that my great grandmother died in this house, and that she still walks around the house and grounds.”
“She loved the garden, I bet.”
Miss Mildred only nodded—was the woman studying her? Lucy wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react. She was grateful; she was interested too. She was also happy.
She meant to say so, but—
“Goodness, is that the time, I’m going to be late for work.”
Lucy got up, but lingered for a moment. Miss Mildred was studying the picture again with a faraway gaze that Lucy knew was reminiscing. Miss Mildred didn’t seem to notice as Lucy left.
~~~
That Saturday afternoon, the kids were sitting on the back porch doing what all kids do in the spring. Megan was humming an old fashioned tune, as she fussed with her dolls.
With no frogs to occupy his interest now, Adam was working on something with sticks—a sort of fort there in the dirt of his mother’s flowerbed made of all the small branches that had fallen from the trees this last winter. No plants had come up yet in the dirt, though the leaves were budding out on some bushes with thorns, so he had to be careful of those.
Perry watched for a while, and then went over to the shrubs that separated their yard from the one with the lily pad pond next door. He looked back toward the others, and didn’t notice that he was being observed from inside.
When the little boy bent over to slip through the shrubs, his uncle said from behind the screen door, “Don’t even think about going over there without being asked, little man.”
“They don’t mind, Miss Mildred said,” Megan informed, though didn’t seem interested herself just now.
Cole said, “I’d like to know when you go over, I want you to ask permission first.”
Adam nodded, and Perry brightened up.
“Can I go now?”
“What is so interesting over there anyway?”
“Lots of things. They got slugs—big squishy ones, and the frogs aren�
�t as noisy as before, but the slime from the pond is drying out now, and it looks like something Martians blew out their noses.”
“Whose Martin?” Megan demanded.
“Not Martin, dummy, Martians. From Mars,” Adam said.
Megan was smiling wryly, Cole noticed, and wondered how long before Adam figured out that some things she already knew, but said just to get attention from him.
Winding him up was their mother’s term for it.
Cole had been skeptical, but now he knew just what Geneva meant.
He said, “So, Megan, tell me about this ghost you see.”
She looked at him, but wasn’t fooled. She said, “Don’t make fun, Uncle Cole, we’ve all seen her, really we have. And that ghost was somebody’s grandma, somebody missed her when she died, I bet.”
“How do you know that,” Perry said, coming back to the porch.
Megan shrugged. “I just do.”
Adam said, “Mom says that Miss Mildred and Megan are friends because they are both old souls.”
Cole nodded.
Adam said, “Do you know what that means?”
Cole said, “I do, sort of, but it’s hard to explain.”
Adam only nodded, losing interest, and then Perry did too.
Cole said, “I know you guys are still grounded on your own, but maybe we could do a movie and then go out for pizza—all together.”
That seemed favorable to all concerned, but on the way to the movie theater, they were sidetracked by a carnival and the kids talked Cole into going there instead.
There were no jungle cats or elephants here, but there were three big tents with plenty of things for kids—other kinds of animals to pet—pigs, goats, lambs and calves. Others were there to ride—ponies, an ox, even a couple of llama. Of course other unimpressive rides included a small roller coaster, teacups and a merry-go-round.
Outside the tents were bigger thrills, but he was skeptical about those, even though the boys begged to go try them. He didn’t want to deal with nightmares and wetted beds, but only assumed that’s what would come next . . . it had with them when they were kids.
A Little Romance: Stories for Hopeful Hearts Page 5