by Cailyn Lloyd
Knocking loose material from the damaged section, Nate noticed lettering carved into the adjacent beam. Neat professional carving. Nate pulled a hammer from his work belt and knocked away more of the old daubing for a better look.
It was a name, the builder of the house, Nate suspected, though he wondered why it had been hidden. He pulled a pencil and index card from his pocket and jotted down the details:
GEFFREY CLARKE MDXIV
Nate was sure MDXIV was the date the house was built, but couldn’t remember what the D stood for. Ashley would know. As an afterthought, he pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a photo.
Just then, his phone pinged. A text and photo from Hannah.
Hey, somebody photobombed one of our pics! Who is this dude?
It was a photo of the Hall. A tall guy in bib overalls and farmer cap stood in the far archway. It was nobody he knew or had hired. Maybe Ashley would know that too. He took a step down the aluminum ladder, dropped his foot to the next step which felt spongy. Assuming he’d misstepped, he moved his foot in and shifted his weight to it.
The rung gave way.
Nate slid down ten feet of ladder, lost his grip completely, and fell another ten feet to the ground.
Ashley rushed over to him. “Nate! Nate! Are you okay?”
Thoroughly winded, he wasn’t sure. Quick inventory: arms and legs worked. Back hurt. Otherwise okay.
“Yeah, I think so.”
He looked up the ladder to the gap in the steps.
That rung failing should’ve been a physical impossibility. The ladder was only months old. Oh man, he was going to sue someone.
“Shit, my lucky day. I better buy a lottery ticket.”
Twenty-Seven
Laura and Leah returned to the house a few days later, on a dreary cold autumn afternoon, steady rain falling from ashen clouds grazing over the trees of the Kettle Moraine. The house looked like a haven from this weather, a turbid plume of smoke pouring from the north chimney, pushed at a steep angle by the blustery northeast wind.
The consult and EEG were uneventful. The neurologist declared her normal but suggested she see her primary care doctor for a complete physical. An undiagnosed heart arrhythmia could cause similar symptoms.
Nate, Ashley, and Lucas were sitting in the Hall. The TV was on, but no one seemed to be watching it.
Lucas gave her a warm smile. Good. The fight was over. Laura settled in next to him.
Ashley said, “Hey, you guys want to play a game?”
There were vague murmurs of assent. Ashley disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of Shiraz, four glasses, and Scrabble. She arranged everyone around the coffee table in the center of the Hall and poured the wine. Leah skirted back and forth around the furniture, playing hide and seek with whomever would make eye contact.
“This should keep us warm on a miserable day like this,” Ashley said. “Set up the game, Nate.”
“It’s damn cold out,” Lucas said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned to snow later.”
The game crawled, and Ashley struggled to keep everyone engaged. “Are we going to play? Nate! Brung doesn’t count, it’s not in the dictionary…you know the rules.”
“Sure it is. Bring. Brung. Duh.”
“It’s bring and brought, genius.” Laura slapped his knee.
There was a clatter in the direction of the kitchen.
Ashley rolled her eyes. “The freaking knives again.”
“What?”
“Two days ago, knives started falling off the magnetic bar in the kitchen. I took them off the magnetic bar and set them on the counter. They still fall onto the floor.”
“Why?”
“Mrs. Moskopf, of course,” Ashley said.
“Who?” Lucas asked.
A pine knot exploded in the fire, sending cinders flying against the screen. Laura looked up and saw electrical wire wrapped around the supports, tying the bar and screen in place. It was an unsightly mess.
Laura pointed. “What’s with that?”
“It won’t stay up,” Nate said.
“What?”
“It keeps falling down,” Lucas said. “There’s something wrong with the supports.”
“Yeah, they’re haunted.” Ashley smirked as she placed her letters.
“Oh bullshit,” Lucas said.
“You have a better explanation?” Ashley met his skeptical gaze. “I did some reading. The thing with the knives sounds like a poltergeist. The bar is probably the same thing.”
“You believe that?” Lucas said.
“Again, do you have a better explanation given the actual evidence, stuff falling by itself?”
“It’s an old house.”
With this exchange, Laura thought more about her conversation with Dana. Driving back, she had decided to consider the exorcism and talk to the reverend. Maybe tomorrow. Then she remembered that she and Ashley were going shopping. The day after then. Give her time to frame her case.
Outside, the weather had turned ugly. The wind was gusting, rattling the windows and producing an eerie assortment of moans and whistles in the eaves and bare branches of the great trees around the house. Rain pelted the windows, punctuated by sharp taps of sleet and ice pellets.
* * *
Laura awoke at six.
Lucas had already gone. She walked to the window and caught her breath. It had snowed. Not much, an inch or two, but enough to paint the landscape ghostly white in the moonlight. It was beautiful, serene. The house was otherwise quiet. Looking at the monitor, she could see Leah sleeping in her crib so she went back to bed.
Somewhat later, she heard Leah crying for rescue.
Carrying Leah down the stairs, Laura smelled bacon cooking and found everyone gathered in the kitchen eating breakfast. She poured a cup of coffee and joined the others at the table.
“What’s the plan, people?” Lucas asked.
“Going shopping,” Laura said without enthusiasm.
“Big sale at the mall today,” Ashley said.
“Jesus, who goes to the mall anymore?” Lucas shook his head. It was more a statement than a question.
Nate said, “I’m wrapping up the winterizing around the house. I could use some help, buddy.”
“No problem. I’ll be here all day.”
Nate raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
After breakfast, Laura showered and readied herself for a day of shopping. Laura also packed a bag for Leah. She was growing weary of Ashley’s incessant need to shop. In fact, Laura was telling her today she was done shopping for a while. She’d finished the first lamp and started another. Having taken time to set up a store on Etsy, Laura was anxious to finish more lamps. Finally, Ashley announced she was ready after an inordinate amount of time on hair and makeup. Jesus! They were just going to the mall.
“We’re going shopping,” Ashley yelled from the top of the stairs.
“Have fun, ladies,” Nate yelled back.
Lucas said, “Okay,” but his voice sounded distant.
Laura stepped down two stairs, towards the basement, feeling dizzy. There was something she needed to remember. Something important. What was it? Damn. It seemed so far away...
In a trance, she said, “Nate, be careful, okay?”
There was a lapse of time, just a second or two. Laura tried to shake the feeling off. Nate and Lucas were staring at her strangely. When she looked up, Ashley was too. She must have sounded crazy. Trying to recover, Laura said, “You too, Lucas.”
Only it sounded like the afterthought that it was. Nate quietly said, “Yeah, sure.”
Lucas just stared before turning away to go about his work. Laura retreated up the stairs in embarrassment.
“That was cute,” Ashley said snidely. “What was that about?”
“I don’t know why I said that.”
* * *
Laura felt lost in the mall. There was nothing she wanted but Ashley dragged her into every store regardless. Perhaps
sensing her mood, Leah was cranky as well. Laura was relieved when they finally took a break and sat on a bench. She pulled a packet of Goldfish from her purse for Leah. Ashley spent a minute inspecting her bags then looked up.
“Hey, you didn’t buy anything. How come?”
“Not in the mood, I guess. Maybe I need a break from shopping.”
“Oh. Okay, whatever.” Ashley was always so nonchalant. Tomorrow she’d forget this conversation and beg Laura to go shopping. The honeymoon was over. Laura needed a break from Ashley. Some new friends, something. She would talk to Carol tomorrow about meeting other local women after she called on Reverend Drew.
Laura said, “So what’s with knives falling onto the floor in the kitchen?”
Ashley shrugged. “I don’t know. A poltergeist, I guess.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Not really.” Ashley shook her head. “It’s just a few knives falling down.”
“You’re very blasé about it.”
Ashley shrugged. “Doesn’t seem all that spooky, I guess. I think it’s kind of cool.”
Laura looked at Ashley curiously. How could anyone be nonchalant about such a thing? “Come on, let’s go.”
They stood and pushed into the stream of shoppers strolling up and down the main aisle. Laura turned to say something to Ashley when she felt a dizzy swoon.
One moment she was fine, the next, the people and the long mall slid sideways as a sensation like an electrical surge shot through her brain.
Laura staggered and fell to the floor, barely conscious. A pair of hands caught her halfway, saving her head from a hard landing. Moments later, she lay there muttering the only thought rattling about in her head:
“…red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning, red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning…”
Laura slowly regained consciousness, shaking her head and blinking in confusion. She saw Ashley. Her eyes flew open.
“We have to go! Something’s wrong at the house!”
“What?” Ashley looked scared and confused. “What happened to you?”
“I don’t know.” Laura shook her head.
Grand mal, seizures, drugs, ridicule…
She felt another swoon, thought she was having another seizure. Then it was gone. By sheer force of will, she pushed her anxieties and queasiness back and focused on a dignified retreat.
She started to get up. A man reached out to help her up. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” She felt disoriented but stood and brushed herself off, feigning composure. Taking Leah from Ashley’s arms, she politely pushed through the crowd to the doors. Halfway to the car, the aftershock of the seizure welled up inside, and Laura all but dropped Leah as she keeled over and threw up. Ashley helped her to the car.
“God, Laura, what’s wrong with you?” Ashley was near tears.
“I don’t know.” Her hands were shaking. She felt empty. Couldn’t think.
“Something you ate?”
Laura shook her head.
“What’s wrong at the house?” Ashley put a hand on her shoulder.
“The house? I don’t know—”
“You said something was wrong at the house.” She clicked the door locks open and helped Laura into the passenger seat.
“No, I didn’t. Can we just go, please?”
Twenty-Eight
Lucas spent the morning in the basement with Nate, insulating the sill plate with polyurethane foam and rigid board. At noon, they broke for a lunch of ham sandwiches and beer in the kitchen.
“So you’re done with the bar scene?” Nate said skeptically.
“It was getting old.” Lucas shrugged. “So, what are we doing this afternoon?”
“We should clean the gutters.”
Lucas’s phone rang with the classic old-school ring. An unknown number: 414 area code. Lucas realized it was probably Gregory calling.
“Mr. MacKenzie, this is Professor Gregory from the University. I’ve been waiting for your call…I left a message.”
“I’m sorry, I never got your message.”
“Oh, well, I’ve finally reached you, regardless. Doctor Shepherd looked at the pages from your book and he’s quite excited. It is indeed Old English. If you have time, he’d like to meet with you to look at the book and discuss the possibility of translating the work. He feels this might be a significant find.”
Lucas’s interest quickened. “Absolutely. My schedule is wide open.”
“Good. Could you manage short notice like last time? Today perhaps? Doctor Shepherd will be in until five. Would that work?”
“Can you hold a moment?” Lucas relayed the gist of the call to Nate.
“Go. I got it here. I can handle the gutters.”
Lucas promised to be there within the hour and ended the call. He quickly changed, grabbed the book, and ran out the door ten minutes later.
* * *
Nate finished lunch and rigged a ladder up the back of the house. The day was warm with a strong southerly breeze and clear skies. The morning snow had melted, and it felt more like August than October. He climbed the ladder onto the roof with agile grace, no fear of the height, a thirty-foot drop from the eaves. On the deck, he stepped carefully. The shingles were dry, but the accumulated leaves were wet and slick, ready to send a careless walker skittering down the roof to a bad landing below with a single misstep.
Working from the top, he swept the leaves from the roof and fished thick clumps from the gutters with a gutter scoop. Of course Lucas had weaseled out of this job. The call from Milwaukee had been timed perfectly and Lucas had to rush right down there. Like it couldn’t wait a day or two. As expected, Lucas had made the book his project alone. Nate was just surprised he hadn’t demanded the coins as well.
It took an hour to work around the house and clean the various gutters. In that time, clouds brewing to the west blotted out the sun. He rigged a hose and dragged it up the ladder. Spent another twenty minutes flushing the remaining debris from the gutters while thunder rumbled in the distance.
Nate tossed the hose off the roof and stopped to watch the dark clouds beyond the lake. It was probably the last storm of the season and looked fearsome. Towers of dark cumulus billowed skyward as a roiling wall of cloud approached the lake. Lightning spiked to the surface of the water, followed quickly by a sharp clap of thunder.
Jesus, that was close! He had to get off the roof.
Nate then noticed the bluish glow around the chimney, an almost iridescent blue. It was eerie, floating, something like St. Elmo’s fire that lit the masts of ships in stormy weather. With that thought came a terrifying realization. Nate threw himself flat halfway down the roof and covered his ears, heedless of the fall. What was coming was far deadlier.
A bolt of lightning struck a fraction of a second later. His hair stood on end, and the shock wave blew past with a deafening blast. After a few seconds, Nate realized he was still alive, unhurt, and terribly lucky.
Holy shit!
A moment of hesitation and he would’ve been dead. Nate scrambled for the ladder and scurried down as vivid images of his smoking, charred corpse rushed through his head.
Too close; way too close.
Nate collapsed the ladder and trotted it to the barn. After the storm, he would go up and check for damage.
Sat down and realized he was shaking—the delayed adrenaline rush from his near-death experience.
Damn. He needed a beer.
Nate slid the barn door closed and walked to the house. The yard seemed unusually sullen now, the trees bare, devoid of life. Even the birds were silent, gone to cover as the storm approached.
The rain came in torrents and Nate bolted for the lower rear door as thunder rumbled above. He walked through Laura’s workspace and up to the kitchen, tossed his coat on the table, and pulled a bottle of Spotted Cow from the refrigerator. Sat and stretched out. Closed his eyes. His heart still raced.
Jesus, that was
close!
Took a deep pull from the beer and tried to relax. As his breathing settled, quieted, he heard that odd bass hum again, coming from somewhere in the house. He then noticed the thermostat flashing an error code.
Oh shit.
Had the lightning strike damaged the system? The furnace and the chimney weren’t connected, but Nate had no idea where the lightning had gone to ground. Metal ductwork snaked around the base of the chimney and, theoretically, some voltage might have jumped to the metal and gone through the furnace. Maybe the breaker just needed to be reset. He set his beer on the table, walked down the stairs, and into the back hallway to investigate.
He caught a whiff of something. Propane?
As he turned into the doorway, his hand automatically reached and flipped the light switch on.
In that instant, Nate realized his mistake.
Twenty-Nine
Lucas met Professor Gregory in his office and, together, they walked down the hall to meet Doctor Shepherd. Gregory walked with a slight hunch and looked eccentric with his wild swept-back hair. Shepherd was a small man, perhaps five-six, slightly built. Probably in his sixties, Lucas thought. Dressed in a tailored grey pinstripe suit, he spoke with an articulate English accent as he politely asked them to sit down. Lucas sat in one of two rattan chairs and looked around the room as Gregory sat and fussed with his handkerchief, trying to clear his sinuses.
The office was impeccably neat and smelled faintly of incense. One wall was lined with books from floor to ceiling, arranged by size to give a uniform appearance to the eye. Shepherd sat behind a beautiful oak desk that was equally neat, his books and papers stacked in perfect piles. The wall behind the desk was decorated with numerous degrees and a rather bizarre painting called—Lucas discovered with a little squinting—The Bewitched Man by Goya.
