Call Me Jane

by Ryan Maitland

  “Are you really going to find my sister?” he asked me, sounding desperate.

  “I’ll try,” I promised.

  I acknowledge that most of you would probably be scared silly exploring an old house in the middle of the night, especially when said house is haunted and full of bugs! Me? I never saw those horror movies. To me, it was just a house with a ghost in it, so it was nothing special. The only bugs that I really saw were spiders and spiders don’t bother me. Spiders are nice because they eat other bugs that do bother me!

  When I was satisfied with the exploration, dawn was still a few hours away, so I returned to the nursery and tentatively sat in the rocking chair, enjoying the emotional high I got from it. Naturally, Peter was there, too, making sure I didn’t do anything to hurt his mother’s favorite chair. He had nothing to fear from me in that account! I could feel how precious that chair was!

  I must have fallen asleep there because the dawn’s early light coming in through the window woke me up. I got up, stretched, and did the usual morning duties. I had some cold pizza for breakfast and set out trying to find Wendy.

  I wasn’t really sure how I was going to go about finding the girl, if she was even still here, so I started with the backyard. There’s a small bit of grassy area directly behind the house, but this soon runs into a slightly wooded area. I figured that the backyard was where the kids were most likely playing, using the wooded area for their game of hide-and-seek. It also seemed like a good place to get lost in…

  I entered the sparsely wooded area, the trees spaced plenty far apart, and started wandering, with no specific direction in mind. I’m not sure how far I travelled, but the further I got from the house, the thicker the trees became, but then they started thinning out again… The reason why became apparent once I reached the other side, coming upon the back of some storefronts in what looked like a newer part of town. I made my way to the front of the store and found it was a fast food place overlooking an outlet mall across the street. The outlet mall featured several clothing stores and a shoe store.

  I think, once upon a time, the wooded area was cleared to make way for these stores as the town grew. Perhaps in Peter and Wendy’s time, this might still have been a densely wooded area…

  I considered going into the shoe store if only for a place to sit down for a few minutes and catch my breath under the guise of trying on shoes, but I heard soft sobbing coming from behind one of the clothing stores that seemed to specialize in jeans of some kind.

  I went to go investigate and saw a little girl wearing a heavy winter coat on a day that was quickly warming to unbearable. She was sitting with her knees tucked to her chest as she sobbed into them.

  “Are you Wendy?” I asked the girl tentatively.

  Her head shot up as she stared at me with tear-filled eyes. She had the same light brown hair that Peter did, but it was longer and braided into two long lines tied with what looked like red ribbons on the ends. Her coat was heavy, grey, and looked to be made of wool that contrasted with the red dress she was wearing. Her hands were topped with black knit mittens and I think I saw a heavy red sweater under her coat.

  “You can see me?” she asked, desperately hopeful.

  “I can,” I tell the girl. “Are you Wendy?”

  “Uh-huh,” she answered, looking nervous.

  “Peter is very worried about you,” I told her, squatting down so we were eye-to-eye.

  “We were playing hide-and-seek,” she whimpered, “but he never found me! I don’t think he even looked for me!” she wailed.

  Oh dear… all this time the poor girl thought her brother had abandoned her, to die in the cold…

  “He stayed out longer than he should have looking for you,” I told her, trying to break this to her gently. “He got sick as a result and later died…”

  “He did?” she asked, hope warring with desperation and depression.

  I was unclear if she was asking if Peter had looked for her or if he had died, but I answered anyway, “He did.”

  “But he never found me!” she wailed again.

  “Wendy,” I tell her gently, “he can’t. He’s… stuck! Like you…”

  “Stuck?” she asked, confused.

  “Stuck,” I affirm. “He’s back at the house and can’t leave, just like you can’t leave here…”

  “Oh,” she mumbled miserably. “Then we can never be together…”

  “Well, maybe you can…” I tell her, hoping I’m right and not making a promise I can’t keep.

  “How?” she asked, wanting to believe me.

  “I think I can take you to him,” I answer. “You just need to let go of this place and take my hand.”

  My plan was to see if I could get Wendy to un-anchor herself to the site of her death, anchor herself to me, then anchor to the house where Peter was waiting for us. I had no clue if this was even possible, but I figured I had to at least try, right? I figured if this didn’t work, Peter would torment me until I gave up my dream home, which would suck a great deal…

  Wendy took my hand, though I didn’t feel it at first. I tried reaching out my other sense, the one I use for communicating through objects, to see if I could feel her mind that way. This worked better than I could have hoped for, in all the wrong ways…

  What I got when I finally connected to Wendy is how she felt when she died. I felt the burning cold, uncontrollable shivering, and stiff limbs she had when she had frozen to death.

  I stood up, still holding her hand, and started shivering. I swear I could see puffs of my breath escaping with every exhalation. I have no clue if anyone else could see it, but I hoped that if they did, they’d figure I was a smoker or something. I had no clue how I could explain this away to anyone!

  I figure by this time I was only two miles from the house I fully intended to buy or die trying, but let me tell you, those two miles were the hardest two miles I have ever walked, before or since! I relived the feeling of Wendy’s death more times than I can count! If I didn’t hate winter before, I damn well hated it after that! It became a test of endurance, and it was one I needed to pass, for all our sakes.

  I’m not sure what would have happened if I had let go of Wendy’s hand, but I’m sure it would have been bad for at least one of us. Without a place of emotional significance for her to anchor to, she might have vanished like a puff of smoke, or she might follow me wherever I went, which I could not abide by!

  This trek was made worse by my getting lost on the way back! By the time we came out of the woods, I found that I had overshot the backyard and so had to walk down the street to go in the front of the house!

  Eventually, though, we made our way back to the gravel driveway of the house, whereupon Peter came flying out of the house to embrace his long-lost sister in an awkward hug. I still had Wendy’s hand and I didn’t want to risk letting her go until we were safely inside the house. I worried that the front yard wouldn’t be strong enough for her to anchor to.

  Besides, it was just a little further…

  Safely inside the house, I let go of Wendy’s hand, hoping I was right about all this. Wendy, for her part, looked up to me, gave me a smile, and went flying upstairs after Peter, giggling the whole way!

  The next time I saw her, she was playing tag with Peter. As she flew by, I saw that her outfit had changed from winter-wear to summer-wear. She was sporting a long white dress with small flowers sewn into the fabric. Her hair was still in pigtails, but now those braids were tied with blue ribbons. She no longer wore her mittens, or shoes for that matter, and all trace of sorrow had been erased from her countenance.

  “Peter! Wendy!” I called to them after about an hour of listening to them playing. I figured this was long enough of a reunion for the two of them before we got down to business.

  They flew down through the ceiling and floated in front of me, with Peter’s legs dangling closer to the ground than Wendy’s, he being the taller of the two. The two of them looked at me expectantly, so I asked Pet
er the burning question that would decide my future. “Have I kept up my end of the bargain?” I asked him.

  “You bet!” he shouted, putting an arm around Wendy’s shoulder and showing off a toothy smile.

  “So, does that mean that you won’t try to get me to leave?” I asked him, my voice sounding suspiciously like Sarah’s when she suspects she’ll have to scold me, depending on my answer.

  “Leave?” Peter asked, aghast. “No! You must stay with us! You must! Promise you’ll stay! Please, oh please!” By this time, both Peter and Wendy were begging me to stay!

  “Okay, okay,” I told them, giggling a little at their horror of the thought that I might leave them. “I’ll stay!”

  Both of them started shouting and whooping for joy as they did a little dance in mid-air.

  “But,” I warned, “if I’m going to stay, we’re going to have to establish some rules, okay?”

  “What kind of rules?” Peter asked, sounding like rules were the vilest thing he had ever heard of.

  “Rules like no loud noises at night, when I’m trying to sleep,” I tell him, sternly. “And rules like respecting my privacy when I’m in the bathroom!”

  Wendy started giggling at this, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she did so. I confess it was kind of adorable.

  “How about it?” I asked him, severely.

  “Oh, all right!” he relented before slapping Wendy lightly on the arm and shouting, “Tag! You’re it!” and racing away up the stairs, quickly followed by Wendy.

  I sighed in relief and called Beth to let her know that I most definitely wanted to move forward with buying the house, to her great astonishment and relief!

  I have stayed in that house all my life, with Wendy and Peter by my side. They’ve promised me, several times over my long life, that they would stay with me until it was my turn to pass from this life.

  They’re sweet kids, but can be a little overprotective at times, which is a little odd for ghosts, who tend to view life as nothing special, but I think they didn’t want their time to play to end too soon… I also think they didn’t want to face whatever was next alone, which I understand completely.

  They’re both good kids and have been wonderful friends to me these many years.

  Bless their hearts…

  Chapter 15

  Anne’s Antiques

  Beth was able to get the paperwork together in what must be record time. She even escorted me to the bank to get the certified check I would need to actually pay for the house. Once that was done there were a few legal odds and ends, including taxes and getting the utilities in my name, but Beth was extremely kind and walked me through all of it.

  Honestly? I think she was just as eager to be rid of the unsellable house as I was to have a place of my own…

  Once the house was firmly in my name, I called up Sarah, this time using a phone, and we discussed how I would go about the move. I still didn’t have much in the way of personal belongings, mostly clothes, and everything else of importance to me (my phone and computer) were already with me. The house was already furnished, after a fashion, and had most of the major appliances already installed from previous owners who had abandoned them rather than stay a minute longer in a house where Peter had made them feel unwelcomed.

  In the end, Sarah decided she wanted to come see the house, and any potential ghosts, for herself… At this point, I don’t think I could have talked her out of it, even if I wanted to… So, she loaded up a moving van and made the four-hour trip, where I welcomed her as warmly as I could.

  “It looks…” she stammered, searching for words.

  “Worse than the picture?” I finished for her.

  She gave a soft snort of agreement, sighing, “They weren’t kidding about a ‘fixer-upper’ were they?”

  “Wanna meet the kids?” I asked, beckoning her inside.

  “You mean the ghosts?” she asked, skeptical as always.

  I shrugged and motioned her inside. Peter and Wendy looked demure with their hands clasped in front of them, floating about a foot off the floor. I don’t know why the kids always floated, or flew for that matter, through the house; they’re about the only ghosts I’ve ever met, before or since, that chose to do it. Benjamin had always pretended to walk, with his feet just above the floor. I suppose that Peter and Wendy figured that when if nothing is solid to you, there’s little point in maintaining the illusion of a floor.

  And, besides, why walk when you can fly?

  Once Sarah was firmly inside the house, I stopped her and motioned to Peter and Wendy. “Sarah, this is Peter and this is Wendy. Kids, this is Sarah; the one I told you about.”

  The kids greeted her warmly, though Sarah couldn’t hear, much less see, either of them. Sarah looked at me critically. I could see on her face the debate going on in her head. Was I crazy or were the ghosts real?

  I sighed and turned to Peter, the stronger of the two of them, “Peter, Sarah doesn’t think you’re real. Would you mind rattling the doors or throwing something?”

  Peter’s face lit up mischievously as he asked, “Can I throw a plate?”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed inwardly before nodding and relaying his question to Sarah. Sarah narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously.

  She wasn’t suspicious for long as a cupboard flew open and a tiny plate for teacups floated out, dangled in front of Sarah’s face for a heartbeat, then flew against a wall, shattering into tiny shards. Peter’s laughter was loud in my ears and I saw him reaching for another plate when I shouted, “That’s enough, Peter!”

  Peter pouted a little, but Wendy was hiding a giggle behind her hand.

  I turned to Sarah to see an amazed look on her face before she, too, started giggling!

  “What’s so funny?” I asked her, not understanding her reaction.

  “I just saw a bona fide flying saucer!” she shouted, her giggles becoming louder.

  I confess that, at the time, I didn’t understand the joke… I had to look it up later before I got it… This has proven to be one of the most annoying aspects of having had such a sheltered education… the feeling that everyone is in on a joke except you…

  After that, we set about moving the boxes of clothing into the master bedroom, along with some housewarming gifts that included a glorious set of cast-iron cookware, including a pan, skillet, and a Dutch oven! I was already envisioning sizzling steaks, pan-fried chicken, and bacon! I might have literally drooled upon seeing the cookware! If I did, Sarah gave no indication other than a little smile, for which I was grateful.

  We ordered pizza and chatted while the kids played tag or hide-and-seek. Sarah was oblivious to their play other than the odd bump or clatter of objects, which made her jumpy.

  “That doesn’t bother you?” she asked me, eventually.

  “Not really,” I confessed, sipping some juice. “They’re just playing… and shouting… and laughing…”

  Sarah gave me an odd look, staring at me for a good long time before asserting, “You’re a bit of an odd duck…”

  “Duck?” I asked, confused, not seeing what a duck would have to do with me.

  Sarah waved me off with a quiet, “It’s just an expression. I meant that you’re not like most people.”

  I shrugged, giving her my ‘whatever’ face. I’ve always known I wasn’t like others. I could see ghosts and pick up on people’s thoughts from objects. What’s normal about that?

  Sarah must have figured my thoughts as she continued, “I meant that you’re not afraid of spiders, snakes, or rats and you seem more comfortable living in a haunted house than you would be in an empty house.”

  “There’s nothing scary about spiders, snakes or rats,” I declared. “They’re just animals looking to go about their life, same as us. Why should I be afraid of them? And, as for the ghosts, this was their house before it was mine. It’s not like I can just kick them out!”

  “Shouldn’t you be helping them to move on?” she asked me, her eyes full of c
uriosity.

  “I’m not sure there’s anything to move on to,” I confessed.

  “You can see ghosts but you don’t think there’s a heaven or hell?” she asked, sounding a little confused at what she saw as a contradiction.

  “Why should I?” I asked. “Just because there are ghosts doesn’t mean there’s anything beyond here. I haven’t seen any evidence for either a heaven or a hell, and aren’t you the one always demanding evidence?”

  That got a smile out of Sarah as she retorted, “Touché!”

  Sarah stayed the night in the master bedroom, at my insistence, while I took a couch. I had made several lists of things I still needed from furniture, some meat to try out the cast-iron cookware, calling handymen for repairs to the house, and a job…

  The job was Sarah’s idea. She said my money wouldn’t last forever and it was good to get some experience working for my money, the better to appreciate it. She even gave the whole ‘it builds character’ speech that I suspect every parent must have been given the same script for.

  I was not opposed to the idea of working, I just worried about how well I would get along with… people. If I was a cat, people would say that I had not been properly socialized. I seemed to get along with Beth, the realtor, but that was also more of a business relationship, rather than a personal one… Business relationships are straightforward, with clear rules that are well-defined, whereas personal relationships are all kinds of messy, confusing, and complicated…

  In short, I was still learning societal norms that everyone else had grown up with and seemed to understand implicitly. I’ve gotten better at it, over the years, but it can still be challenging for me on occasion.

  All of the items on my other lists were easy; I had a good idea about how to go about those and any interaction involved was one of economics, devoid of anything personal. It was getting a job that would be a challenge… I had no real skills that I could actually use in the normal world, where psychics didn’t exist and ghosts were only part of horror movies. I could probably, if I wanted to, pretend to be the kind of psychic that had their own phone business or booth, but those psychics were frauds, conning people out of their money for empty promises and reassurances, which didn’t sit well with me. The fact that I didn’t want people to know about me, and what I could do, was another deal-breaker as far as that went…