Spirit Eyes

by Lynn Hones

  The ambiance in the car was tense and she tried to control the warbling of her vocal chords. Unable to hide her fear, she questioned her husband and wondered how he could so easily brush all this under the rug in the first place.

  Paul, his sunglasses glinting, turned briefly toward her. “I must have told her about my cousin. I mean, I don’t remember doing it, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  She pulled at the safety belt cutting across her chest. The atmosphere suffocated her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why? Why is it so easy for you to jump to the conclusion that she’s seeing ghosts, and impossible for me to say that maybe, just maybe, she’s manifesting some sort of unconscious memory? After all, there’s an old box of family photos in the attic. Maybe she played up there and saw a picture of…” He rubbed his face with the hand not on the steering wheel and Ruth watched a lone tear slide down his cheek.

  “She never plays up there. She’s not allowed. How could she pull that ladder down by herself? And,” she said loudly, “in all the years I’ve known you and have been going to that cottage, you’ve never mentioned that you had a cousin that drowned there. So, please forgive me if I have a hard time believing that you and Pearl were shootin’ the breeze one day and you unloaded that gruesome memory onto her.”

  “Could you keep it down?” Paul glanced into the backseat at his daughters.

  She reached for her water bottle in the cup holder. “If you believe that, I feel sorry for you. It’s complete and utter bull.” She took a sip, put the lid on, and placed it in the holder again. When she leaned back, she eyed Paul. His square jaw set firm, she noticed something on his face she’d never seen before. His shoulders were set back and squared as always, but his expression contradicted his military countenance. Fright. She saw pure, unadulterated fright in his gaze. Such primal fear, coming from the man she called her rock, created immense uneasiness in her own soul.

  “Paul. I’m sorry. I know this must be hard on you. I only want you to understand that I know my daughter. If she was making all of this up, I’d know.”

  “I never said she was making it all up.” His voice sounded raw.

  “Can you at least meet me halfway with this?”

  “I don’t see what good it will do. What you want me to believe is utter nonsense. It’s like asking me to believe the Three Little Pigs really do live in houses made of straw, sticks, and bricks.”

  “No,” she said in a whisper. “They don’t live there. Not anymore. A wolf, quiet and deadly, took care of that.” A lengthy silence created a chasm between them that spanned for miles.

  Chapter Five

  A physical examination, performed by their family physician, found Pearl a perfectly normal eight-year-old in all regards. Dr. Rusk sat stoically and listened to everything Ruth had to say regarding the recent events, while Pearl waited in another room. When done with her explanation, they discussed a few of their options. First and foremost, a thorough eye exam was pertinent, as was an appointment with a child physiologist. A wait and see attitude was taken regarding scans of the brain, but not ruled out in the future.

  On a blustery Friday night, Paul took the girls to a roller skating party to celebrate a friend’s birthday. Ruth begged off, complaining of a headache. With a few errands to run, she couldn’t wait to get home and spend the evening curled up on her couch with a good book and an even better glass of wine.

  The sky, a dark auburn only minutes earlier, now hung black and heavy as the van rolled up the drive toward the garage. The large door creaked open after she hit the button on the sun visor and she inched the car in.

  Being alone at night in the driveway made her nervous. The man in the gray suit liked to hang out here, and that made her jumpy. Her eyes cast downward in case he made an impromptu appearance, she grabbed her bags and, heart pumping, slammed the back of the van closed and hurried to the gate. She’d forgotten to put the back porch light on, which would have bathed the entire area in light, so she fumbled with the latch. The gate squeaked open and she hurried into the backyard, her imagination rearing its ugly head. He’s behind me. He’s following me. Her pulse raced as quickly as her steps. Puddles’ bark came from inside the house and this lightened her heart. At least she wasn’t totally alone.

  On the step, she put the bags down and reached into her purse, her glance darting to the drive.

  “Where is my key?” She fumbled with her key ring looking for the one to open the back door, when a strange sound issued out of the garage. As if he heard, Puddles bark grew fiercer.

  Her hands shook making it difficult to find the right one. “Dear God, please. Where is my key?”

  A man’s hacking cough echoed inside the garage, causing her heart to jump. “Think, think. Where is your key?”

  Lotus. She—she had it last.

  At school, Lotus hung around a few kids who went home to empty houses. Lotus insisted on wearing a house key on a string around her neck sometimes like her friends, even though Ruth picked her up at the end of the day. She told Lotus to put the key back in her purse, so Ruth dumped the entire contents on the back porch and searched until she found it. She stood, groped for the handle, awkwardly, and stuck the key into the lock. Another hacking cough hit her ears as she forced the door open wildly, ran in, and just as quickly, slammed it shut. Her back against it, breathing heavily, she trembled with fear. Puddles jumped up on her, planting his massive paws on her chest. “It’s okay, Mr. Puds. I’m here. It’s okay.” He got down, but the hair on the back of his neck rose.

  “What the hell?” My imagination is in overdrive. Knock it off, Ruth. The cough is a neighbor. It carried over in the wind.

  A full minute later, still in the same position, she concentrated on calming herself. She sucked in a shuddering breath, turned, and opened the door to get her bags of groceries. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted the bags ripped and her food thrown haphazardly around the back yard. She hadn’t heard a thing—nothing. Someone walked up those stairs, took her bags, and threw their contents all around while she stood with her back only inches away.

  The contents of her purse, where she’d dumped it, didn’t seem to be any more disturbed than the chaos she’d created earlier, so she ignored the groceries and scooped up most of that. She slammed the door, locked it, and dialed her phone.

  Paul answered on the first ring. “Hi, hon,” he said. “Can you hear me?” Screams of pleasure from the kids skating muffled his voice.

  “Barely,” she yelled. “When will you be home?” Puddles, a low growl emitting from his throat, sat next to her looking into the dining room. “Puddles, stop it.”

  “Hell, I don’t know. A couple of hours, I guess.”

  How did she explain to him the events prior to this call? She needed him to come home—now.

  “Can you get the kids, please, and come home?”

  “Are you insane? They’ll kill me.”

  “Something happened. I think someone tried to break in.”

  “What? Did you call 911?”

  She attributed what had just happened to her…to the man in the driveway. The idea it was a mere mortal who caused this chaos had never entered her mind.

  “I, I didn’t. I think it was just some kids,” she lied. “Just come home, please.”

  “Boy, for a lady who couldn’t wait to be alone, you sure changed your mind quick. We’ll be home soon.”

  “Hurry!”

  In a quick pace, she walked through their large kitchen, flipped on the lights and continued into the dining room. She immediately stopped, her eyes plastered on the radio. A wave of panic filled her as she pictured the woman Pearl described hanging around it. She was friendly and nice, at least that’s what Pearl said, but she didn’t want to have anything to do with her—it—them.

  This is nuts. This is my Home. Home or not, she felt more comfortable waiting for her family in the kitchen.

  After she turned on all the back and sidelights outside, she po
ured a glass of wine and sat at the center island. The only noises, the dripping of the faucet she’d asked Paul to fix weeks ago and the humming of the fridge, nullified her. She drummed her fingers on the counter and glanced over her shoulder out the window every few minutes. Stiff after ten minutes of waiting, she rubbed her neck, took a sip of wine, and stood. The dog continued his growling. “Stop it right now, or you’re going outside with the boogeyman.”

  And you just stop this. You’re home. No monster is hiding in the living room. Grow up and go in there. Turn on the lights, the TV and relax.

  Her wine glass shook as she took another sip, but she almost choked when the sounds from the old radio hit her ears. Soft at first, music, light and haunting, floated in the air.

  A song from the nineteen-thirties emerged, one she was familiar with about stormy weather and how it keeps raining all the time. Struck still, she listened. Her heart beat frantically. Paralyzed with fear, she felt like a small cricket being eyed by a large toad, when suddenly, she was plunged into darkness. Everything went out—everything, that was, but the radio. It continued playing. This was too much for Puddles, who stood and barked into the room. He wouldn’t enter it but simply barked.

  Without thinking, her animal instinct prevailed and she ran for the back door and turned the knob. Stuck. She turned the handle again, turned and pushed. Nothing. A door that hadn’t jammed since they’d moved in wouldn’t budge.

  “Come on.” She shook the handle and pushed her body against it, to no avail. Here she was, locked in her own sinister funhouse of horror. She could go the front door, but she’d have to run by the radio and the incessant music, which grew louder with each passing second.

  “My God, how did all this happen?” She wanted to call Paul but couldn’t see her phone.

  Okay, I have to break the window. I’ve got to get out of here. She picked up a stool to throw against the back window when, as suddenly as it all started, the lights came back on and the music stopped. Frozen at first, she felt like the Tin Man as he fought to loosen the joints of his arms while Dorothy squirted oil on them. With a greater amount of effort it should have taken, she put the stool down. Her ears perked up when she heard the car pull into the drive. The headlights meant Paul and the girls were finally home.

  “Open the door, quick!” she yelled while pounding on it. She heard the girls running around the back yard picking up groceries. “Hurry,” she yelled.

  Paul fussed with something on the back steps and she breathed a sigh of relief when the handle turned and he pushed the door open.

  “What in the hell is going on?” Paul asked.

  “Mommy, why did you leave the groceries in the back yard?” Pearl asked, confused.

  Ruth shook her head in dismay.

  “They were all over,” Pearl added.

  Paul, his glaze penetrating her, asked, “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head a second time. “I, I don’t—know.” To avoid frightening the kids, she told him they’d talk later.

  “My Easybake Macaroni and Cheese was on the ground near a pile of Puddles’ doo doo,” Pearl said, incensed.

  Tears moistening her eyelashes, Ruth smiled, “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Lotus, help me get these bags inside,” Paul said.

  “Mom, are you feeling okay? You look kinda sick and weird,” Lotus said.

  “I’m tired. I’m just really, really tired.”

  Pearl questioned her mother next. “Are you in that manpause thing?” She bent to pick up an apple that had fallen on the floor. “Jenny Hastings mom has manpause and it makes her kinda mean and stuff.”

  “Pearl, it’s called menopause, and no I don’t have it, I’m too young.”

  Ruth shook her head for the third time, this time for the conversations she had with her youngest. If she wasn’t so frightened, Ruth might have even smiled at that little comment. As it was, however, she felt as if she wouldn’t be smiling again for a long time.

  With the kids tucked in and Puddles calmed down, Ruth crawled into bed and snuggled next to Paul.

  He put down his book and took off his glasses. “So what in the hell happened?”

  She parted her lips to speak, but the words didn’t come out.

  Paul flashed an inpatient look and she sighed.

  “I haven’t got a clue what’s going on, Paul. But whatever it is, it involves my Pearl, and that pisses me off.” She sat up, turned, fluffed her pillow, and leaned back down. “I heard this noise, like a man coughing, ya know, in the garage. It freaked me out and I dropped the bags and ran into the house. The radio, the one that belonged to my mom, came on and, and well—I’ve never been so afraid in my entire life.”

  “The lights have gone off before. That’s not unusual. That radio has faulty wiring. That’s why I told you not to use it. When the lights went out, it probably caused some glitch that made the radio turn on and off quickly. You only imagined it played once everything went dark. Heck, you were probably scared to death. I really don’t blame you.”

  “Don’t you dare patronize me. That radio is not even plugged in,” she stated. His scientific attempt at a logical explanation pissed her off. “What about the dog? I mean, Puddles was going nuts. He was growling and barking like there was someone or something in the next room.”

  “Hello? He was picking up on your vibes.”

  “Okay, I’m imagining things.” Determined not to surrender to his analytical bull, her voice raised several octaves. “You weren’t there. That’s not how it went at all.”

  “I’m not going to let you bait me, Ruth. Besides, you said yourself that it was neighborhood kids playing a prank on you.”

  “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Her question, straightforward, shocked her.

  “No, of course not. I’m simply trying to figure out what this is and why it’s happening to you.” Paul stretched out and put his hands behind his head.

  “Oh, I see—happening to me, as opposed to happening to you. It’s happening to Pearl, so that means it’s happening to us.”

  “It started with Pearl,” he said, “and now the hysteria is spreading.”

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” She peered ruthlessly at her husband.

  “It’s not unlike the Salem Witchcraft mania,” he continued. “One person gets all weirded out and then, boom, the whole village is…”

  Ruth burst out laughing. “The whole village? What? Are you serious? You are oblivious.” With that, she turned over and switched off the light.

  Paul stroked her shoulder softly. “Ruth, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you like this.”

  Not saying a word, she ignored his touch and tried to fall asleep. She wanted to get away from it all, if only through a few hours of sweet oblivion. She coughed and felt as if she was coming down with something. She’d been achy all day and prayed, what with all the things going on, that she wouldn’t get sick.

  Chapter Six

  The playground, divided by grades, provided Pearl’s class with full use of the swing set. Dangled from monkey bars three feet off the ground, the kids laughed and pulled at each other’s hair as it swung in the dirt around them. It was a warm spring day, and all felt right with the world.

  “Race you to the grass,” Pearl yelled. Her friends shot off the bars and raced after her. When they reached their destination, they fell onto the ground and rolled around laughing.

  Pearl, who’d been leading the pack, looked over to the baseball diamond and froze.

  Her friends noticed and stopped, too.

  One of them called to her. “Pearl, what are you looking at?”

  “Do you guys see that man?”

  They all stood erect, swiping the hair out their eyes as the wind blew it. They shook their heads until one of them questioned her. “Where?”

  “There.” Her index finger pointed to a specific spot. “In the baseball field.”

  “No,” they answered in unison.

  “I s
ee an old man. He’s telling us to come over. He’s pointing and then moving his hand like this.” She put her palm face up and raised it toward her.

  “What’s he wearing? Is he a baseball player?” the girl closest to her, Rachel, asked.

  “No, he’s not. He’s wearing a black suit and a white shirt.” She squinted her eyes, even though with her new glasses she really didn’t need to. “He’s got on a black tie and a black hat. He’s smiling. He seems really nice.”

  “I don’t want to go over by him,” Rachel said.

  “Me either,” the other girls conceded. One by one, they backed away and then ran toward their teacher.

  Pearl, in a state of full alert, continued to stare at the strange man.

  Come here, he told her, using his mind. I have a secret, but you can’t tell anyone.

  “I can’t. I have to go,” she yelled out. She stared for only a moment more, and then raced after her friends.

  “Mrs. King, there’s a man over there. Pearl saw him and he wanted us to go to him,” Rachel yelled out.

  “Where?”

  Pearl came up and heard her friends telling the teacher about the man and chimed in. “By the baseball diamond. The other girls didn’t see him, though, so I think he’s one of my people.”

  Mrs. King, obviously upset, cast a strange gaze Pearl’s way.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.

  “None of you other children saw this man?”

  “No, ma’am,” they sang out in harmony.

  “Is he still there, Pearl?”

  She turned her head and stared over to where he had stood. “No.”

  “Then, maybe it’s time for you to stop making things up.”

  Pearl’s cheeks burned red and she lowered her head. A strange sensation whirled around her throat and she swallowed hard to stop it. It continued to grow, and unused to such powerful emotion, she realized she needed to cry.

  Mrs. King glanced at the field and, assured no man stood there, told the children to run along.

  “And Pearl. It’s wrong to lie.”