by Bobbi Holmes
Eighteen
Tears streamed down the young boy’s face while hiccup sobs replaced the rebellious tantrum cries that had filled the foyer just minutes earlier. His grandmother’s right hand clutched one of his hands tightly as she led him up the staircase, giving him no opportunity to further protest.
Begrudgingly, he followed her to the second floor. Glancing back over his shoulder, he looked down to the now closed front door where his mother had departed just minutes earlier, leaving him even after he had begged her to stay.
“Don’t drag your feet, Walt,” his grandmother scolded when they reached the second-floor landing. He sniffled and used his free hand to dry his nose on his shirt’s cuff. Exhausted from the rigorous fit of tears, he entered his bedroom, his hand still gripped firmly by his grandmother. Once again, he had lost the battle. All he could do now was retreat, take a nap, and maybe his mother would come home earlier today, and they could start fresh.
His grandmother released his hand, abruptly grabbed him around the waist, and lifted his feet off the floor, setting him on the edge of his bed. She placed one hand on his right shoulder while the other hand tipped his chin upwards until his eyes looked into hers.
With her right hand, she removed the cotton handkerchief she always kept in her apron pocket and wiped away the remaining tears.
“Love, you are making yourself sick. And you are breaking your poor mother’s heart,” his grandmother said in a kind voice.
“I just wanted her to stay with me,” he whimpered. “She’s always gone.”
“And she wanted to stay with you. But sometimes we have obligations, and we don’t get to do what we want.” She shoved the handkerchief back in her pocket and then rustled his mop of dark babyish boy curls with one hand.
He looked up into his grandmother’s face, his big blue eyes filled with unshed tears. “Then why did she go again?”
Leaning over him, she let out a weary sigh, swept the boy up into her arms, and hugged him while resting one cheek against the top of his head. “You are not a baby anymore, Walt,” she said in a whisper. “You need to start acting like a big boy and stop with these tantrums. I don’t even want to think what your papa or grandfather would say if they had been here and witnessed your tantrum.”
“Are you going to tell them?” Walt whispered back.
After letting out another sigh, she said, “No, it will be our secret. And I’m sure your mama won’t be saying anything to them either. But honestly, Walt, you need to stop doing this to your poor mother. Don’t you know how difficult it is for her to leave you each day?”
Before his grandmother left the room, she tucked him into his bed for a nap. He didn’t bother arguing that if he was a big boy, why did he have to take a nap? The tantrum had been exhausting. He had no energy for arguing. Just minutes after his grandmother left the room, he fell asleep.
When Walt woke up, he sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and looked to the window. Sunshine streamed into the room. Hungry, he climbed out of bed.
“You slept a good hour,” his grandmother said when Walt walked into the kitchen. “You ready for some lunch?”
“Yes, please,” he said as he climbed into a chair at the kitchen table.
A few minutes later his grandmother set a plate of food before him, and just as he took his first bite, the kitchen door opened, and his father walked into the house.
“Papa!” Walt greeted him excitedly.
“Alex, did you come home for lunch?” Walt’s grandmother asked as Alex rustled his son’s hair in greeting. Walt remained at the table, eating his lunch.
Alex glanced at his son and then looked back at his mother. “I’m going over to Teddy and Maddie’s. But I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Can I go with you, Papa?” Walt asked, wanting a chance to apologize to his mother.
“Not today, son. But I’m hoping I won’t be long, and your mama may come back with me.”
“She is?” Walt brightened.
“What’s going on?” Walt’s grandmother asked.
“We can talk about it in the hall,” Alex said, flashing a glance from his son to his mother. She nodded and headed to the doorway. When Walt got out of his chair to follow his father and grandmother, his father told him to stay put.
Remaining at the kitchen table, Walt looked from his lunch to the doorway his grandmother and father had gone through. He wondered what was going on and why adults always had secrets. Tempted, he considered sneaking from the table to eavesdrop at the doorway, but he feared if his father caught him, especially after being expressly told to stay put, he would get a good whipping. It wasn’t that his father’s whippings hurt his backside much, but they injured his pride, and to Walt that was more painful.
Walt’s father and grandmother returned to the kitchen a few minutes later. Alex rustled Walt’s hair again and told him to finish his lunch and to be a good boy.
“I’ll walk you out,” Walt’s grandmother said. She looked at Walt. “Finish your lunch. I have to run to the Hamiltons’ to pick up some eggs, and I want you to stay inside. I might be gone a while, and you need to stay in the house. Do you understand?”
Walt looked up to his grandmother while his father stood by the back door, waiting. When Walt did not respond, Alex said, “Walt, what do you say to your grandmother?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Walt watched his grandmother and father leave out the back door.
Walt didn’t understand why his grandmother always made him stay inside when she ran errands. Why couldn’t he just play outside while she was gone? It was more interesting outside, especially this time of year. This afternoon the sun shone brightly, the perfect day to climb one of the trees in their yard.
He stood at the parlor window, looking outside, when he spied something of interest in his front yard, a kitten. One of the neighbor’s cats recently had kittens, and Walt wondered if one of theirs had somehow wandered over into his yard. Concerned over the kitten’s safety, especially considering the large dogs who wandered the neighborhood, Walt decided to break his grandmother’s rule and rescue the young animal. Plus, there was no reason she had to find out. He could simply catch it and then sneak it back into the neighbor’s yard where it belonged.
Confident in what he should do, Walt left the parlor and stepped out the front door. Once outside, he spied the kitten playing by a bush near the front walkway. Before going to it, Walt glanced around, wanting to make certain his grandmother was not already on her way home. Seeing she was nowhere in sight, he started for the animal.
Just as he reached the kitten, it darted under one of the large bushes along the front of the house. Without thought, Walt followed it into the bushes. Once there, hidden in the foliage, he sat on the ground, and instead of grabbing the skittish animal, he lured it to him by breaking off a small twig and twitching it in front of the feline. Cats had scratched Walt before, and he was hesitant to grab at the wild ball of fur and tiny claws.
The kitten, now engrossed in Walt’s play, swatted playfully at the leaves on the small twigs. They played for several minutes when Walt heard footsteps on the front walk. He froze. Had his grandmother returned?
Walt peeked out from the bushes and spied his father’s horse tied up to the fence. Walt frowned, confused, as his father had left in the buggy. But then he saw the man standing at the front door, Uncle Teddy. Suddenly it made sense. Uncle Teddy’s horse looked just like his father’s. His father used to laugh and call them a matching set.
Not wanting to reveal himself, Walt remained hidden in the bushes. He watched as Teddy rang the doorbell and waited. After a few minutes, when no one answered the door, he watched as Teddy grumbled something and then turned from the door and headed down the walk. Teddy got onto the horse and rode away.
Turning his attention back to the kitten, Walt discovered it had escaped. Getting out from the bushes, Walt brushed the dirt off his clothes and looked around. The kitten was nowhere in sight. Worried his grandmother would come home
soon and catch him outside, Walt hurried back to the house.
Walt woke abruptly and sat up straight in bed. His breathing labored, he felt as if he had just finished running a marathon. He glanced at Danielle, who had been sleeping beside him. She stirred and then sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. Walt looked to the window. Early morning sunlight streamed into the room.
“Are you okay?” Danielle asked.
When he didn’t answer and continued to stare blankly across the room, she gently turned toward him and touched his shoulder. “Walt?”
“I remember,” Walt stammered.
Danielle frowned. “You remember what?” Reaching over to her nightstand, she turned on the light, brightening the dimly lit room.
“Uncle Teddy was there that day, in Frederickport.”
“What are you talking about?” Danielle asked.
Walt repeated his dream to Danielle in every detail.
“You’re saying it wasn’t just a dream?” Danielle asked.
“I’m not saying it was a dream hop, exactly. But it’s exactly how I remember that last day with my parents—the day my parents died. I’d forgotten some of it, but I remember now. I’d forgotten Teddy was there. He told them he had been in Astoria. That he had returned after the fire. But he was in Frederickport that day.”
“If he was, why didn’t you tell your grandparents?”
“At the time, I never thought it was important. My grandmother told me to stay in the house, and if I told her about Uncle Teddy coming to the house, she’d ask me why I hadn’t answered the door for him. I couldn’t very well tell her I was outside hiding in the bushes. Plus, at the time I didn’t know it mattered. And years later, when I understood more about that day, I didn’t remember it all. But why didn’t I remember?” Walt frowned at his own question.
Danielle took one of Walt’s hands in hers and gave it a squeeze. “Not only were you very young, losing your parents after that would be traumatic for any child, and you were only five. Plus, you already felt guilty for throwing a tantrum the last time you saw your mother. Suppressing memories is not uncommon. What I’m wondering, why are you remembering this now?”
“Because obviously, none of this is a coincidence,” Walt said.
“How do you mean?”
“Bud’s death so close to my parents’. Teddy lying about where he was. Bud disappearing and blaming my father for his death. Those three were close; they grew up together. And if we want to figure this out, we need to find out what my father, Teddy, and Bud were doing back then. And why did they all die except for Ted? What ever happened to Ted? And what did my father tell my grandmother that day? What did she know that she never told me?”
“I’m wondering if one of them is trying to tell you now,” Danielle said.
Walt looked at Danielle. “What are you saying?”
“We both know that when someone moves on, one of the few ways they can communicate with the living is by a dream hop. Dream hops come in various forms. We’ve both been in dream hops where the past replays before us—like your dream last night.”
Nineteen
Ian and Lily sat with the Beach Drive mediums at a large booth at Pier Café, about to have breakfast. Young Connor, considered a medium since he could see both Marie and Eva, sat on Heather’s lap while she absently kept him entertained with a makeshift napkin puppet. Walt had just finished telling the group about his dream after Danielle had updated them on their visit to Ginny’s house.
Heather sat next to Lily, who sat next to an empty highchair, with Ian on the other side. Across the table, Danielle sat between Chris and Walt. The window behind Chris, Danielle and Walt looked out to the ocean.
“And you think this was a dream hop?” Chris asked.
“Not exactly,” Walt said.
“It was a dream hop,” Danielle argued. “Like when Harvey showed me in a dream what happened to him. And Walt did it a few times too, and so did Emma.”
“Does that mean someone else was there, showing Walt these things?” Chris asked.
“No,” Walt said. “But I know what Danielle is saying. It felt like one of those dreams. But I’m not sure if someone wants me to remember what happened—or if it was my subconscious wanting me to remember.”
“Are you sure it was exactly what happened back then?” Lily asked.
“Obviously, that was a long time ago. But it was as I remember that day,” Walt said.
“But you didn’t remember seeing Teddy before the dream?” Lily reminded him.
Walt looked to Lily. “No. But have you ever forgotten something, and then when someone reminds you, it all comes back?”
“Yes,” Lily said.
“So does this mean you think this Teddy dude killed your parents?” Heather asked as she tweaked Connor’s nose with the puppet, making him giggle.
“I believe he lied about where he was that day,” Walt said. “According to what I remember my grandparents saying back then, Teddy had been in Astoria for a few days and didn’t return until that evening.”
“I wonder if the local police station would have any records on the case, like they did with Walt’s death,” Lily said.
“It doesn’t sound like they investigated the fire as arson, so I would think you’d have to look at what records the fire department had,” Chris said.
“There was no fire department in Frederickport back then,” Walt said. “It was all volunteer.”
“Even if there were any old reports on the fire to review, I doubt they would tell us much. It was a good forty years or more after Walt’s parents’ death that fire science was even a thing,” Ian said.
“So basically, we can just speculate,” Danielle said. “Even if Bud’s spirit makes another appearance, it’s unlikely he knows anything about the fire, considering he seemed to believe Walt’s parents were still alive.”
“And if this Bud has moved on, we probably won’t learn what role Walt’s father had in his death,” Heather said.
“I don’t believe my father killed him,” Walt insisted.
“But there seems to be a connection between the deaths,” Ian said. “It looks like Bud, your parents and Teddy’s wife all died the same year—possibly the same month, and all under questionable circumstances. Walt said the three had been best friends. I’m not a huge believer in coincidences. If I were, I wouldn’t have researched some topics I have over the years.”
Lily turned to her husband and asked, “Okay, let’s say this is a story you want to research. Where would you look?”
Ian considered the question for a moment. Finally, he said, “It seems the one person who survived that year was this Teddy. What happened to him?”
“I know he closed his office in Frederickport and moved down to Astoria, where his other office was located,” Walt said. “My grandmother once mentioned he later remarried, but that’s about all I know.”
“Considering he lied about being in Frederickport the day of the fire, I would see what you can find out about Teddy, his life after your parents’ and his wife’s deaths,” Ian suggested. “It’s also possible you misunderstood the timeline of when Teddy arrived back in Frederickport. He could have stopped by Marlow House but didn’t return to his home until after the fire.”
“I think you’ll find something if you look,” Heather said.
Chris looked at Heather and asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Because Walt had that dream for some reason. It was telling him to look into it,” Heather said.
Danielle nodded. “I agree.”
“But I also want to know about that treasure of Bud’s,” Heather said.
“Any idea what kind of treasure it’s supposed to be?” Ian asked.
“When we mentioned the treasure to Ginny, she claimed not to know anything about it, not until Cory mentioned it,” Walt said.
“But Marie did say something,” Danielle interjected.
Before Danielle could finish her thought, Carla arrived with their breakfast. L
ily took Connor from Heather and put him in the empty highchair by her seat while they passed plates of food around the table.
After Carla served the food and left the table, Chris asked Danielle, “What did Marie say about the treasure?”
Danielle retold Marie’s anecdote of a young Emily and then her daughter telling stories of Uncle Bud’s treasure and pirates.
“Pirates?” Heather smirked after Danielle repeated Marie’s story.
“So are we talking about a pirate treasure?” Lily asked.
“When I was growing up, there used to be a story about a pirate treasure buried up in one of the local mountains,” Walt said.
They all turned to him. “You never told me that before,” Danielle said.
Picking up a piece of toast from his plate, he gave a shrug. He said, “It’s just a story my grandfather told me.” Walt took a bite of the toast and then noticed his friends continued to watch him.
“We want to hear the story,” Heather said impatiently.
“I don’t think it has anything to do with Bud’s treasure,” Walt said, setting what remained of his toast back on his plate.
“Tell us anyway. I love a good treasure story,” Danielle said.
“That’s because you are always stumbling over treasures,” Chris teased.
“Now you sound like Adam,” Danielle said before taking a bite of bacon.
“According to my grandfather, about two years after he settled here, a ghost ship washed up on shore,” Walt began.
“Ghost ship?” Heather frowned.
“A ship without a crew,” Ian explained.
“Oh, you mean like the Eva Aphrodite,” Heather said.
“Yes. Apparently, the ship washed up during a severe storm,” Walt explained. “They discovered it the next morning, and no one was on board, and they didn’t know where it came from. That morning the local livery stable discovered someone had taken a carriage and horses during the night. Later, people started speculating that whoever had been on the ship had stolen the carriage and horses.”
