After Life

by Andrew Neiderman

  “What do the other teachers say about them?” she asked.

  “Other teachers? I don’t know. Why?”

  “Find out how each of them behaves in class, or at least how your top boys behave. Maybe competition does something to them, excites them so much they lose control,” she suggested.

  “Hmm. That’s a thought. Hey, you might want to go back to school and study child psychology,” he jested.

  “First I have to study my own psychology,” she said. Lee’s silence was tacit agreement. She didn’t, as she thought she still might, bring up the digging that had awakened her in the middle of the night.

  “All right,” he finally said. “I’ll try to be home early. See you later.”

  “Okay,” she said, and cradled the receiver.

  After she washed the dishes and silverware she had used for lunch and put away the food, she went back to working on her short story for the rest of the day, becoming so involved with her characters, she lost all track of time. She nearly jumped out of her seat when she heard the front door open and close.

  “Jess,” Lee called.

  “Lee?” She reached for the clock and felt it. “Oh no,” she muttered. She got up quickly and went out to greet him. “I was working and didn’t realize—”

  That sixth sense stopped her. It was as if a cold wind crossed between her and Lee. She felt his distance and the bad vibrations. He hadn’t rushed forward to embrace and kiss her; he was standing before her, silent.

  “What happened? You and Henry Young got into an argument?” she asked.

  “I never got a chance to see him,” Lee said.

  “But I thought you had an appointment.”

  “I did, but he had to leave school early. Marjorie Young nearly killed herself,” Lee said.

  Jessie felt her legs turn to straw. She reached out for the arm of the nearest chair and pulled herself around and into it.

  “What happened?”

  “Seems she was taking a bath with a blow dryer plugged in and the damn thing fell in the water,” he said.

  “Oh my God.”

  “Yeah, very stupid and careless. The electrical system in their house isn’t that up-to-date. It’s one of these restored homes. So the circuit breaker didn’t go off immediately.”

  “How did Henry find out? Was someone in the house with her?” Jessie asked.

  “Luckily Tracy Baker was going there, doing Henry a favor and bringing some pills to Marjorie. She came to the door moments after the accident and saw the lights flashing. As soon as she found Marjorie, she called Dr. Beezly, who rushed to the scene. He performed CPR and brought her back.”

  Jessie raised her head. It was like being stabbed in the heart with a sword made of ice.

  “It’s all right now,” Lee said. “She’s going to be all right,” he added, coming to her to seize her hand and reassure her. She pulled her hand from his quickly.

  “No,” she whispered. “It’s not going to be all right. Don’t you see?”

  “See? See what, Jess?”

  “She was dead. He brought her back from the dead,” she said.

  Jessie couldn’t calm down enough to make dinner. Lee proposed that they go out to eat.

  “I should get you out of this house anyway,” he said. “You’ve got cabin fever.”

  She didn’t resist his suggestion. They went to the Gardner Town Diner and both ordered roast-beef dinners. Many people recognized Lee and stopped by to comment on the game. Jessie didn’t hear them complaining about the boys’ behavior as much as she had expected. Instead she heard comments like, “They’re just full of grit,” “It’s good they’re aggressive,” “I guess we showed them what our kids are made of, huh?”

  “These people seem so angry, so full of antagonism,” Jessie commented.

  “I know. We’ve always been told people are belligerent in the cities, but I’m beginning to wonder about these small towns. It’s as if we’ve entered the Dark Ages or some time before morality had any significant influence on the way people think and behave. You can’t see the faces of those people who made those remarks, but they looked like they wanted to replay the game and go after the other kids with axes and hammers.

  “Whatever happened to sportsmanship, for crying out loud?” he muttered.

  “Let’s go home, Lee,” Jessie suddenly said.

  “Huh? I just started to eat.”

  “No, I mean home, back to the Island. Next week,” she said more aggressively. “We’ll stay with my parents until we find our own place and you get another job,” she said.

  “Quit. Just like that. Jeez, Jess, they’d have my head. Why, Young could complain to the state education department and get my teaching license revoked.”

  “But you can leave a job if you want to, can’t you?”

  “Yeah, after giving them proper notice, but—”

  “So give them proper notice. Please, Lee,” she said, reaching across the table. “There is something about this place. I don’t like it here.”

  “Sure it’s just not the house and being practically on top of a cemetery?” he asked.

  “That’s part of it, but not all of it, Lee. It’s just a feeling I’ve had ever since the first night.”

  “Still hearing those voices, huh?”

  “Yes,” she said, and described what she had heard the night before. “And you said there was mud in the hallway,” she quickly added when she was finished.

  “Grave robbing? Carter?”

  “I’m not saying it’s that.”

  “Well, what else could it be? That’s ghoulish. Maybe the old geezer loses track of time, or maybe he just likes to work late.”

  “Lee, do me a favor,” she said quickly. “See if there’s been a death in town and if there was a funeral and burial today.”

  “Jess…”

  “Please.”

  “All right, but I don’t know what it’s going to prove.”

  She reached across the table and found his hand again.

  “You want to leave, too, don’t you, Lee?”

  He hesitated.

  “Yeah, I guess. Maybe you’re right,” he concluded. “I’ll give Henry Young notice tomorrow and we’ll start again someplace else.”

  “I’m glad, Lee.” Jessie smiled and suddenly her appetite returned.

  “Of course,” he said softly, “it’s sure going to look like I’ve been overwhelmed and I’m a quitter.”

  “Who cares what these people think, Lee?”

  “Right,” he said, but not with a great deal of force. As if he somehow had overheard their conversation, a tall, gaunt man with thinning brown hair, strands of which lay matted over his forehead, got up from the counter and stopped at their table on his way out.

  “Coach,” he said, “you don’t let last night throw ya. Those boys are like wild horses right now, but before long you’ll turn them into Thoroughbreds and channel all that energy. Good luck,” he added, and patted Lee on the shoulder.

  “Who was that, Lee?” Jessie asked quickly. She had felt a sudden chill in the air. It was as if they were in the dead of winter and someone had opened a door. She couldn’t help but embrace herself.

  “Paul Benson’s father,” he replied. She couldn’t see him shake his head, but she felt he wanted to say more. Then she realized who the man was.

  “Paul Benson’s father? Wasn’t he the man you found drunk in the truck that night?”

  “Yes.”

  “The night you thought you saw blood, blood that disappeared.”

  “It didn’t disappear, Jess. I probably imagined it. I’m sorry I ever told you those things. It only fanned the fires of your imagination.”

  Jessie was silent for a moment. Lee began to eat again. Then she reached across the table and found his forearm. He stared at her.

  “What?”

  “Tomorrow,” Jessie repeated, “give Henry Young your notice.”

  The following morning, shortly after Lee left for work, the phone rang.
It was Tracy Baker.

  “I suppose you heard about Marjorie,” she began.

  “Yes, Lee told me. Thank goodness you were there,” Jessie said.

  “I know. Anyway, I’m going over to see her in a little while and I wondered if you wanted to come along. She’s home; she’s all right. I could use the company,” Tracy admitted.

  “Sure. I’d love to.”

  “I’ll be at your house in fifteen minutes, if that’s all right.”

  “Fine,” Jessie said.

  She went to the front of the house to wait for Tracy, and when she heard the car drive up, she was out the door before Tracy reached the front entrance.

  “You continually amaze me,” Tracy said. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Sounds have become very distinct. When you’re blind, you depend on that a great deal more than you did when you could see. There’s something about your car, some rattle, some sound in the engine that identifies it,” Jessie explained.

  “I thought it might be the click of these stupid shoes with the little metal tabs on the heels. I don’t know why I wear them,” Tracy said. She escorted Jessie to the car and helped her in.

  “How’s Lee been since the game?” she asked.

  “He’s still very upset.”

  “I bet. Things will get better, though,” Tracy promised. “You’ll see.”

  It was an opportunity to bring up the subject of leaving, but Jessie let it pass. She didn’t want anyone to try to talk her and Lee out of it. Ever since Lee had agreed to give notice, she had begun to feel relief. She couldn’t help believing they were escaping from something terrible. For them this move to Gardner Town had simply been a mistake. People change jobs continually in America nowadays, she thought. There was no reason to feel guilty about it, and especially no reason to be ashamed.

  “So how is Marjorie today? I can imagine, with all her other problems—”

  “She seemed okay when I spoke with her on the telephone, and for the first time in a long time she sounded happy about having people visit. She became a terrible loner, practically a hermit, since her breakdown, which is hard on poor Henry. He’s such a social animal, loves people, parties, crowds. Bob says he can’t pass up a gathering of four people on a street corner,” she added, laughing.

  “He didn’t seem all that upset about what had happened at the game,” Jessie remarked. She was fishing for Tracy’s real opinion of Henry Young. Maybe she would say something that Jessie could bring back to Lee.

  “Oh, it takes a lot to upset Henry these days. Bob says it’s self-preservation.”

  “How’s that?” Jessie asked.

  “There’s so much to upset educators these days—student misbehavior, the lack of interest in their studies, the failure of parents to live up to their responsibilities, apathy in our society when it comes to our schools…all of it. Bob says Henry could lose his temper every other minute if he didn’t have good self-control, and you know what stress like that can do to someone.

  “Look what it did to poor Kurt Andersen, the man Lee replaced.”

  “What was he like?” Jessie pursued.

  “A very nice man, a distinguished man, loved in the community, but a man who bottled up his frustrations and let them fester, until one day they just burst his heart. So,” she sang, “I think my husband’s right—keep your sense of humor, don’t take things too seriously, and always find the bright side to anything, no matter how discouraging it might seem on the surface.”

  “And you think that’s why Henry Young didn’t chastise the boys more or lose his temper at the game?”

  “Exactly. Don’t misunderstand me. Henry’s not happy about what happened, but he’ll correct it in his own way and not add on a pound of gray hair. That’s what Bob says,” she added.

  Jessie was silent. Were they overreacting? Was Tracy right? Maybe she was doing the wrong thing in urging—no, practically demanding—that Lee give his notice. Maybe they hadn’t given things a real chance here. Maybe a lot of what she felt was her own imagination.

  When they pulled into the Youngs’ driveway, she asked Tracy to describe the house. Tracy said it was a turn of the century Queen Anne, a two-story with a steeply-pitched roof. It had bay windows and a full-width porch one story wide and extended along the east wall.

  “The Youngs have reshingled the roof and put on aluminum siding. All of the shutters have been replaced as well and Henry has done extensive landscaping, put in new flower beds and fountains. Next summer he’s putting in a pool just beyond the gazebo.”

  “Sounds very nice,” Jessie remarked.

  “It is and it’s located in a very scenic part of Gardner Town. I wish you could see,” she said, and then immediately regretted her words. “I mean—”

  “That’s all right. Describe it to me,” Jessie said quickly.

  “Well, from the front you have an almost unobstructed view of the Catskills, and in the rear there are acres and acres of rolling hills. There’s a forest filled with hickory and birch on our left.”

  “Aren’t there any neighbors?”

  “Not for a half mile on either side. This place was the summer home of some wealthy New York businessman once. Henry keeps finding wonderful things hidden in the attic. Ready?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Tracy got out and helped Jessie. Then they made their way over the walk, up the steps, and to the front door. Just before Tracy rapped the brass knocker, however, the door was opened and Jessie was surprised to hear Marjorie Young greet them exuberantly.

  “I’ve been waiting for you two,” she said. “I thought something might have happened.”

  “We’re not late, Marjorie,” Tracy said, laughing.

  “When you live out here and you’re expecting guests, they’re always late. That’s because you’re so anxious for company. Come in, come in,” she coaxed. “Hi, Jessie. It’s so nice to see you again. I’ve made some of those cakes you love, Tracy,” Marjorie said.

  “You baked today?” Jessie asked incredulously. “But I would have thought…”

  “Of course I baked today. Why shouldn’t I? Henry has a sweet tooth. I can give you tea, or”—she paused and leaned toward Jessie—“we can sample some of my homemade elderberry wine. Wouldn’t you like that?” She squeezed Jessie’s hand. Jessie tried to lift hers out of Marjorie’s fingers, for they felt as cold as ice, but Marjorie held on.

  “I can’t wait to show you everything, Jessie,” Marjorie said. “We’ve made quite a few changes, haven’t we, Tracy?”

  “Practically rebuilt the place,” Tracy agreed.

  “Well, why not? We can afford it now.” Marjorie finished with a short, light laugh.

  Her voice gave Jessie the chills. She remembered this woman; she remembered her vividly because of the things she had said and how she had behaved at the Bakers’ dinner party. This wasn’t any sort of hysterical reaction to what had almost happened to her. This was different. She wore the same perfume, her voice was the voice Jessie had heard, but it was as if…

  As if there were someone else inside Marjorie Young’s body, someone very different.

  8

  There was a sound in Marjorie Young’s laughter that not only rang untrue, but also filled Jessie with a sense that she was in the presence of someone rather promiscuous. Her voice was full of abandon. She sounded as if she had been into her elderberry wine for some time before Tracy and Jessie had arrived, and Jessie detected its scent on her breath, but there was also something about the way she rubbed her body up against Jessie that made Jessie feel very uncomfortable. Never had another woman pressed her breasts so firmly and fully against her, nor had any woman rubbed her hips this way as they walked and talked. Marjorie’s hands groped a bit, too, her embrace over Jessie’s shoulder slipping down under her arm, the fingers finding the sides of Jessie’s breast as she led her to a seat in the living room.

  Marjorie babbled incessantly from the moment they all entered. She talked about the weather, the wine, her
sweet cakes, and kept repeating how nice it was that they had come to visit. When Jessie commented on how comfortable the sofa was and asked about the material, Marjorie went into a detailed description of her home, going over each and every valuable piece, speaking about the house as if it were a national treasure. Occasionally she would pause to ask Tracy to verify something she had said.

  “She isn’t exaggerating, not one bit,” Tracy remarked at one point. “This vase on the table here must easily be worth—what, two thousand dollars?”

  “If we wanted to sell it, Henry says we could get twenty-five hundred without a bit of haggling,” Marjorie replied, and followed her words with her thin, high-pitched laugh. There was something terribly familiar about that laugh, Jessie suddenly thought. She tilted her head and played back her most recent memories…something.

  Then it came to her. That was the same laugh she had heard last night, the laugh in the wind that seemed to fly over the house after she had heard the digging in the cemetery. Realizing the connection made her feel as if icicles were dripping down her spine. Were all these strange events causing her to lose her mind?

  “You look a bit pale,” Marjorie said. “A glass of this will warm you up and put some color back into your face.” She took Jessie’s hand to wrap her fingers around a glass filled with the sweetly scented liquid. She practically brought it to Jessie’s lips.

  Reluctantly Jessie took a sip. It was richer, thicker in texture than any wine she could recall. It did taste good, but it felt like she was swallowing blood. The liquid lingered so long in her mouth and over and under her tongue. It felt…sticky.

  “There now, aren’t we all comfy cozy,” Marjorie said. “Oh, I’m so happy you two came to see me,” she squealed.

  “How are you feeling, Marjorie?” Jessie asked. Seeing how that had been their motive for visiting, she didn’t see any reason why they had to pretend nothing had happened or nothing was wrong.