The Return

by Margaret Guthrie

Lydia noticed Jake watching her, a curious look on his face, almost as if he detected her inner conversation. Almost as if he knew she was communing with...her mother, the ghost. It was strange, in a way, that there was no Dale energy around. Perhaps he had already gone ahead. Maybe he’d found what he needed, over there.

  “Lydia,” someone called. It was Pearl. “You’ve not got your ice cream and cookies.” Pearl walked toward her, held out a plate and napkin. “You all right?” She put a hand on Lydia’s bare arm. “You’re trembling,” she said as a worried look crossed her face. “And cold.” Pearl held her hand to Lydia’s forehead. “Perspiring, too.”

  Lydia forced a smile. “I’m okay, Pearl. I was just out watching the children with their flashlights, and listening to Jake over there setting them straight from time to time.” She glanced over at him and gave him a reluctantly warm smile. He gave one back, then turned away when some-one called out to please gather around, the program was about to start.

  Chairs had been set up at the other end of the room, where a little portable platform held a small table for Peter to place his equipment. Peter stepped up and introduced himself. To the children he told how his little girl, when she was eight or nine years old, he couldn’t remember just when, loved to play like she was Dorothy going to see the Wizard of Oz and how she loved to pretend to be the good witch with the magic wand that could turn things from nothing into red shoes, for example, or a new dress. All the time he was prattling on, he started doing things with his hands. First it was cards that he shuffled and shuffled and spread out in his hand, then asked one of the children in the front row if she’d like to pick one out and hold it for a while. Then he asked if she thought he could tell her which one it was. “Nooo,” Meagan said, shaking her head and scrunching up her shoulders as if she wanted to hide.

  But of course, she was proved wrong. So he went on with his story about Dorothy and went into other tricks that awed the children. They sat intrigued for some time while the mothers cleaned up the kitchen, talking quietly among themselves.

  When the phone rang, they were startled. It wasn’t often that someone called the kitchen this late at night. But it turned out to be Mike Harris, just in from the field, wanting to talk to his wife. Charlette took the phone.

  “You about done there?” he asked.

  “About. What’s up. You okay?” She always worried about him, about when the next panic attack would have to be dealt with.

  “I’m OK. But we got this phone call, Charlette. I think it was Rebecca. There was a lot of noise in the background, like she was in some public place. Turns out it was a bus depot. She asked if it were all right to come home, make a visit. Actually, it wasn’t really a question. It was more a statement. She’ll be here in a couple days. On the bus. She asks if we’d care to meet her, pick her up. She sounded so cold, Charlette. Hard, I mean. Indifferent.” She heard a crack in his voice.

  Charlette turned toward the wall, avoiding the eyes she felt watching her. “You said yes.” Her voice caught and she didn’t know whether her yes had become a question or a statement. She didn’t know whether the feeling coming over her was one of dread or relief. Was happiness or sorrow.

  “Of course.” He sounded tired. Of course he was tired. He’d been riding that tractor all day. Probably hadn’t eaten the supper she had left for him yet.

  “Well, we’ll be home soon, honey,” she said. “Jennifer is being intrigued with Peter’s magic show. He’s really good. You know?” She heard the lift at the end as if she hardly believed herself, as if she were in a make believe world at the moment. Her daughter coming home? After all this time? After not even knowing whether she was alive? She felt like an electric current had been turned on and was circuiting her body. She felt the hairs on her arms rise amid the goose bumps. She felt tears welling up, her lips quivering. What was she going to tell Jennifer?

  After she hung up Charlette stayed at the phone to collect herself. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and knew it was her sister Shirley.

  “She’s coming home,” Charlette whispered, not even looking at her, knowing she didn’t have to. She dabbed at tears and blew her nose, but the shaking wouldn’t stop.

  Shirley caught her breath, her hand inadvertently tightening on Charlette’s shoulder, pulling her sister into her so they hugged in mutual consolation. “From where?” Shirley asked.

  Charlette pulled back and looked into Shirley’s eyes. “I don’t even know,” she said, suddenly frightened at her negligence in finding out. “Maybe Mike knows.” She hoped. She hoped. But maybe it wouldn’t matter, if Rebecca was really on her way. If she’d already boarded the bus. “I forgot to ask. I was just so shocked, stunned.”

  “How is she coming?” Shirley asked.

  “Bus.”

  “So, you’ll meet her? Where? When?”

  “Mike knows. I guess.” She felt uncertain now. Had Mike gotten details? “Maybe she’ll call again. When she gets in. Delora, perhaps? Marshalltown? Des Moines? What am I going to tell Jennifer?”

  Charlette broke the embrace and started to scan the room. She saw Jennifer and Tanya looking at them from across the room. Peter was putting away his magic items and answering questions from the curious children. Jennifer seemed to be of two minds, wanting to ask questions, but wanting to know what her mother was looking so strange about. The phone call must have been really important. Maybe her dad was sick again? But her mom didn’t look anxious and hurrying to leave like she usually was when there was an emergency.

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” Amber asked Peter. Jennifer turned back to hear his answer.

  “Ghosts?” Peter screwed up his face, then grinned. He wasn’t about to get into a debate about the rumors he’d been hearing from Margie about things Lydia had told her. But how to give a decent answer. “Do you?” he asked, using the old turn it back to the questioner trick.

  “Jennifer sees them,” Amber giggled and bobbed her head with its blond pony tail up and down enthusiastically. “But maybe it’s just magic tricks.” She gave Jennifer a sly, slightly accusatory look. Jennifer glowered at her but stayed silent.

  “Something was out there tonight,” said one of the boys who had gotten into a fist fight. “Sounded like horses and men shouting.”

  “Indians, man. Don’t you know Indians when you see them?” The boy laughed and made a war whoop sound with his hand to his mouth. “They swhoosed past so fast they knocked us down.” The boy said it in a mocking way, playing into the other’s imagination, but perhaps also to cover what he thought he may have seen.

  “It got cold,” said Robin, who moved in closer when she heard the boy’s remarks. “And windy. And it did feel like something wanted to get us.” She stood a half-head taller than the boy and she smiled at him in a pleasant way as if encouraging him to say more.

  “Something hit me and I’ve got a bruise to prove it,” continued the first boy. He pulled up his pant leg and showed them all a large scrape with a little blood oozing out. His pants were grass stained on his knee.

  “You fell and hit the ground,” the other boy hissed. “And I didn’t push you.” A sudden recognition came over the boy’s face as he realized the implication of what he had just said. On the one hand he didn’t want to be accused of fighting; on the other hand he was just verifying that something else caused the boy to fall.

  “Well, then, it was the Indians,” cried Robin. “I told you. Dead people like a full moon. And there used to be Indians here a long time ago.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Robin,” Tanya said in a fierce, gravelly voice. She crossed her arms over her chest to keep from giving Robin a shove, while her face reddened and her eyes glistened with tears. Jennifer put her arm around her.

  “It makes as much sense as seeing ghosts over there!” Robin pointed to the corner, to that place. “That’s where you’ve said things h
appen.”

  “That was before,” Tanya said, her voice shaking.

  “Before what? Before the Kinnens came back and it wasn’t so fun anymore?” Robin raised herself to her highest height and her own mouth turned down as if fighting the tears welling up.

  “OK,” Jake said, coming over to the gaggle of girls. “That’s enough speculation. You’ve just proved that you have good imaginations and can be told most anything and you’d believe it. I can tell you there weren’t any Indians, weren’t any ghosts out there, and the change of weather was just a natural thing that happens. A cloud comes over and it gets cooler. That’s all.” He completely ignored the remark about ghosts in the corner.

  It was Pearl who stepped over and tried to put a sane light on what seemed to be happening. “I see you girls have been learning how stories can get exaggerated and how the truth sometimes gets lost.” She smiled at them all and stepped between Meagan and Amber, putting an arm around each girl. They were the smallest of the five, and this left her standing facing Robin, trying to keep her pride in tact, and Jennifer and Tanya, leaning on each other. “I think you’ve come to see in the past few weeks how rumors can get a little out of hand.” She laughed. “And I think you’ve come to know that little girls grow up and become women who each have a story to tell. And boys grow up with their own stories, too. I think you’ve come to know Lydia and Margie Kinnen as two real people, and maybe you’ve come to see that your own parents have some hurts and trials that they’ve had to overcome. And I hope you are learning that teachers can love you even though they only get to see you for a year or two.” Pearl brought her hands up and put them together in front of her like she was about to clap. She motioned all the children, the boys and girls, the other adults to come over and join in a song. She and Margie nodded to each other. The women came out of the kitchen. Peter stepped over with other men in the group. Jake and his wife, superintendent Stevenson and his wife.

  “For he’s a jolly good fellow. For he’s a jolly good fellow,” came the words as Pearl directed their voices toward Peter, then Jake, then switched the words to “Oh, we’re all jolly good fellows, we’re all jolly good fellows,” and the mood visibly lifted in the room.

  Lydia was amazed. First she was astounded at Jake. He who had apparently encouraged ghostly tales for years was now discouraging them? She waited to see whether that would apply to the gym. She found it interesting that some of her very thoughts as she watched the children and their flashlights move about the school grounds, that Indians had come to her mind, too. And there certainly was enough of a disturbance out there at one point for Jake to have to separate the two boys, and she remembered Robin’s remarks about ghosts taking over bodies. Well, she was partially right, in spite of what Pearl might think. If there were any disembodied souls around, tramp souls as some described them, it would have been a chance for them, when the children were open to something happening, to do just that. But Lydia wasn’t about to let anyone know she had been inwardly watching, feeling protective and asking her friends at the Ranch to help. She wasn’t about to let them know she felt it her duty to stay at the back door and keep the energies in line.

  Chapter 23