The After House

by Michael Phillip Cash

  “Oh, I can just picture that,” he said with a little laugh. “Anyway, it’s not a church anymore. That Hugh fella turned it into a shrine to whaling.” Eli tapped his lips thoughtfully.

  Olivia looked up, and he was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It was darker than a tomb, and the snow covered the leaded glass, so that the church was filled with violet shadows. Eli entered tentatively, walking slowly down the aisles, his booted feet making no sound. The wind whistled through the eaves, leaving him unsettled. He glanced warily around, peering closely, his mouth moving as he read each display. There was a model of his ship—recreated from what, he could only guess—and also, in the artificially colored water, a giant sperm whale, caught in the ropes from the deadly harpoons. Whaleboats hung permanently on the frozen waves, and colorfully dressed sailors worked the lines.

  His finger touched the mighty head of the embattled whale. Eli marveled at its majesty, the grace of its movements, the bigness of one of God’s creatures.

  He whispered an apology. “We needed the oil. I didn’t understand about loss, you poor beast.”

  Light shone on the scrimshaw display, and the whale-bone gleamed in the muted moonlight.

  He was drawn to the case. Reaching in, he touched a busk. His fingers found the familiar grooves and lettering. Picking it up, he placed it against his lips, knowing the words, because they were scored on his heart.

  “And the two shall become one flesh,” he whispered softly, tears prickling his eyes. He looked up and saw her beloved face frozen in a painted portrait. His chest tightened, and a sob escaped, as he cried, “Sarah.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Cold Spring Harbor, 1841

  “Will you be taking the commission, or not, Eli? I can’t hold the post forever.”

  “It’s been barely a week since I’m back.” Eli looked bleakly out of the plush offices of the Jones Brothers. Walter Jones stood facing the harbor. His brother John sat behind a large mahogany desk.

  “Able Thompson’s been chomping at the bit for this bark,” Walter told him.

  “I’ll not have him,” John said with a shake of his graying head.

  “I lost my last ship,” Eli said bleakly. “I lost everything.”

  “Not everything. You brought Falcon’s boy back. Some would call you a hero.”

  Eli shrugged. “The doctors don’t have much hope for him. He’s barely alive. I’m no hero.” He shook his head.

  “You have to move on with your life, Eli. What else can you do?”

  Eli considered the bustling harbor in the distance. There was no reason not to take the job. With a shrug he replied, “Aye, I’ll take it.” He placed his hat on his head to leave. “I’ll be ready to ship out in a fortnight.”

  “Very good then.” Walter held out a hand.

  Eli walked out into the late May sunshine. The crushed white shells in the street shone brightly. Horses and carriages lined Main Street. Coopers, chandlers, and taverns had all opened, enjoying the rich boom resulting from the Joneses’ whaling trade. It was crowded and noisy. Immigrants were joining the population, and houses were going up all along Spring Street. Eli looked out into the harbor. The bobbing mast of his new ship beckoned him. But his heart failed to find joy in the sea. The thought of shipping out left him flat. There was nothing to come home to.

  Turning up his street, he walked toward his small white cottage. Gertie was outside, her pale blond hair plastered to her head. She was doing the wash. There was precious little of it for her to do anymore. She looked up, her face wet with perspiration, elbow deep in suds.

  “I’ve a roast prepared for your dinner, sir.”

  “I’m not hungry,” he told her flatly.

  “You’re wasting away, you are, sir.” She clicked her tonged, then went back to her work.

  Eli walked up the small hill toward the rose garden. Sarah had arranged the plants so that they bloomed in different colors, waving a welcome to the incoming ships. He climbed the stone steps and entered the cold confines of the house.

  They were gone—taken by the cholera weeks before he came home. Gertie was the sole survivor. He cried over the bare beds, the mattresses and linens burned in his own backyard. It came with the immigrants, the burgeoning population. The small town was unprepared for the epic growth. With horse manure in the streets, sanitation became a problem. It began in the spring, and soon half the population was affected. By winter it stole into his home, robbing him, leaving him more destitute than he could have imagined.

  His son, Thomas, was first. Little Charlotte died in her mother’s embrace. Sarah was too sick to take care of them. They told him Sarah turned to the wall and closed her eyes. The whisper of his name was her last exhale. She died alone, without him. Knowing this ripped out his heart and soul, leaving him an empty shell. He recalled many of their arguments, his impatience, her complaints. She was afraid he would leave her alone with the children and the burden of bringing them up without a father. He didn’t respect her needs. He risked his life selfishly, without considering the outcome for her. She feared his death, the thought of their separation, leaving her alone to face an endless dry desert of life without him.

  He hadn’t thought of her feelings. He believed he needed to provide her with the vanities rather than the real necessities of life. She didn’t require the big house or the fancy clothes. In all fairness, she never asked for it. She wanted him to share the joys of their time together. He had heard the term often enough to have remembered it. She was his soul mate, his heart’s desire. He burned for her, yet he had squandered his time with her—for what? Trinkets. Status.

  Gertie handed him the busk. “She died with your name on her lips, sir.”

  His fingers glided over the whalebone. They were no longer one flesh. He was alone. Just as his family suffered, then died alone, so he was to end his days as well. A life sentence with no possibility of parole.

  After the whale attack, he had been saved by the afterhouse from his own ship. He had floated on it for three days, with young Henry Falcon, and they were rescued by another bark. It had brought him back to the safety of his town, the security of his own little cottage by the sea, Sarah’s afterhouse. It was supposed to keep his family safe. Instead, it served as their tomb.

  He left the busk, as well as the rest of his belongings, in the house. Walking out to the sea, he looked at the tall masts. He couldn’t do it anymore. What was the point of leaving, when he had nothing to come home to. The colorful banner of roses that his wife planted as his welcome reminded him only of the hollow house, devoid of the warmth of love. He just couldn’t go on. There was no afterhouse to save him in the murky waters of the bay. He had failed his family, failed his wife, failed his own heart. He couldn’t face life without her or the children. He couldn’t face her disappointment in eternity either. The calm waters beckoned. He looked back at the cottage on the hill, knowing with all certainty that an afterhouse was an illusion. The water closed over his head, he embraced it, letting it fill his lungs. The light muted, he became weightless, his heavy heart dragged him deeper into the murky depths of oblivion. He knew with certainly that without the ones he loved, there was no safe place. Without the ones he loved, life was meaningless.

  * * *

  “Walter Jones was furious with you, he had to delay his ships departure for at least a month,” a voice told him, pulling him into the present.

  Eli spun, and the busk dropped from his hands with a clatter. He heard the thud of a wooden leg as it crossed the floor.

  “Jeez, but you scared the shite out of me,” Eli muttered, looking at a familiar face.

  Old Henry Falcon thought that was just about the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

  “You were a mess when they fished you out,” Henry said. “Scully found you four or five days later. It was bad. The fish got to you.” He shuddered. “I ended up working with the Joneses’ whalers. You did miss some good times, Eli. Saved up enough for two ships of my
own.”

  Eli looked at the other man’s peg leg.

  “Aye,” said Henry. “Was a problem on the dance floor, but I married Florence McGowan, and it never interfered in the process of making a passel of children. Thank you for saving me.”

  Eli bent his head. “You didn’t think I was doing you a big favor at the time.”

  “True, but what do we know?”

  “It was such a waste.” Eli shook his head.

  “No such thing, Captain. We come, we learn, we love, we live—”

  “And then we die. What is it all for?”

  “You haven’t forgiven yourself?” Henry asked.

  “How can I? Sarah died alone. I ran off, leaving her to face this horror without me.”

  “None of us are alone, Eli,” Henry said. “You just don’t see her.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  2014

  Eli felt a pull. It started with a gentle tug, sucking him back to the cottage. He wanted to stay and stare up at the portrait of his wife, but the force propelled him over the treetops, toward his little house on the bay.

  There was a crowd in the house. Daylight streamed in through the windows. A woman walked with a dish of leaves burning in her hand. The smell enveloped him, made him sleepy, and dragged him into the living room, where he saw Remy leaning on Hugh on the sofa. Little Olivia looked up and right at him when he tumbled into the room.

  “You see him!” the woman screeched.

  “She’s got a voice that could wake the dead. In fact, she just did,” Eli thought as he got to his feet.

  “I know you can see him too.” She pinched Olivia’s cheek. “You’re gifted.”

  “How come we can’t see him now?” Hugh demanded. He was pale, but his eyes shone bright. His arm was around Remy. They looked so right together.

  “He don’t want to be seen, that’s why,” she responded with a smile. She was short, with two-toned hair, a stocky build, and a warm and friendly face. “Some say the sage gets rid of them. I think it just gets rid of the unwanted spirits. Hmm.” She wandered over to a corner and concentrated very hard. She motioned for Olivia to take the smoking sage from her hand, then turned to the wall, her brow scrunched together.

  “Honey,” she said to Olivia. “Do you feel anything different here?”

  Olivia shook her head. She didn’t.

  * * *

  Marum stepped forward, reaching out to touch Georgia.

  “Stop, Marum,” Sten said. “If you touch her, there’s no going back.”

  “I’ve thought a long time about this. Eli’s failure is our failure too.” Marum looked at him with anguish in her luminous eyes. “The only way she’ll be able to convince him is if she’s touched by one of us. Besides, I like her.”

  “She’ll be changed forever.”

  “Not necessarily a bad thing. I think she deserves it. Her open mind has helped so many. It’s time for her to use more than she’s used to.”

  “If you insist.” Sten was giving her a second chance to change her mind.

  “I insist,” Marum said with a nod. She stepped forward and caressed Georgia’s cheek, then shoulder.

  Georgia’s skin tingled, then turned golden.

  Remy sat up, rapt, watching as a spangle of stardust encased the woman Hugh had brought over. She lived in the area, Hugh had explained, and had communicated with some of the livelier ghosts in the old mansions in the area. She now took on an unearthly glow. Startled, Georgia turned in a circle slowly. She covered the spot on her cheek with her hand. A conduit opened, and joy filled her face.

  “Oh, I didn’t know before,” she said to Marum. “You’ve been here with us all along.”

  “Who’s she talking to now?” Hugh asked, forcing himself to sit up. His arm pained him and he winced. No one answered him.

  “Throughout eternity,” Marum whispered back.

  “I wasn’t sure,” Georgia said with awe.

  “Yes, you were. You’ve gone to fire next level of consciousness. It’s time for Eli to go home. If you can do that, there will be no limits for you.”

  * * *

  Eli stood crankily, complaining that he wished they would stop talking about him as if he weren’t there. Georgia turned, her face drained of expression, her voice changing. Olivia ran to her mother and leaned on her leg.

  “What happened to her, Mommy?”

  “I don’t know. Hugh?’

  “I’ve never seen her do this before. Georgia, are you OK?”

  Her voice was different.

  “Eli,” she called out. “Eli, are you done with your adventures?” It was Sarah.

  Eli came over to her and dropped to his knees, hiding his face in the pleats of her long skirts. He felt fingers touch his hair. “I failed you.” He cried hot tears.

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I left you. I loved you, and I left you. You needed me, you begged for me to stay, but I ignored you. I told you it was all for you.”

  “Yes, Eli.” The hand stroked his hair back from his cold forehead. “What did you find out? Look at me and tell me what you now know.”

  “I can’t, Sarah. I can’t. I lied. It wasn’t for you. It was for me. All I cared about was the fun of it, the chase. I admired how I looked providing you with nice things. I thought I loved you, but I didn’t understand what love meant.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “If I loved you, I shouldn’t have left you.” He bent over, and his form was wracked with sobs.

  “What’s going on?” Remy whispered. All she saw was Georgia deep in a trance, her face devoid of expression.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want to disturb her.” Hugh watched her intently. “What I want to know is, where’s Eli? Do you hear anything?”

  Remy shook her head. She turned to her daughter. “Livie?”

  Olivia put her finger before her lips, indicating for them to be quiet.

  Georgia went down on her knees. Her arms surrounded Eli.

  “I knew you loved me and the children, Eli.” She pushed up his chin. “Love is more than that. Love is knowing that someone else’s happiness is more important than your own. Love is knowing how to make the right choices. Do you think if I wanted you to stay, you wouldn’t have? It would have made you miserable. More than anything, I wanted your happiness too.”

  “You forgive me?” Eli asked, hope in his eyes.

  “No.” Sarah took his hand. “I never had to forgive you. I was never angry at you. You have to forgive yourself. Come home with me, Eli. Your children need you. It’s time for you to come home. I think you’re finally ready to be with us.” She placed his hand on top of her chest. Eli could feel the outline of the busk he had made her so very long ago.

  “And the two shall become one flesh,” Eli whispered.

  “One flesh, one heart, one soul,” Sarah said, finishing the line. “It’s time for your adventures to end, Eli. It’s time for you to come home.”

  Eli stood and took her hand, “Aye, Sarah mine. ’Tis time for me to meet our son and see my Charlotte. Did her teeth ever come in?” he asked with a smile.

  Sarah nodded, as she held out her hand. The air became still, except for a section that grew hazy, then liquid. Eli stepped toward it without a backward glance, to unite his heart to its only mate, to the safety of his own afterhouse. The afterhouse with Sarah.

  The room changed. Georgia looked blankly at them.

  “It’s over. They left.” Georgia took a deep breath as she sank to her knees. “That was. . .wild.” She widened her eyes. “I don’t want to sound corny, but I think I’ve been touched by an angel.”

  “I don’t know.” Hugh walked over to help her stand. “You put on quite a one-woman show. Where’s the captain?”

  “Home. He went home.”

  “Will he come back?” Olivia asked.

  “No. He’s where he’s supposed to be. That was. . . intense. Thanks for letting me in here. I’ve always wanted to sage this place, but Pat woul
dn’t let me. Really, thank you. That was extraordinary.”

  “I hope he found peace,” Remy said. “We kind of owe him.”

  “Oh, he found peace and forgiveness. Well, I’ve gotta go. There’s a boat in the harbor they want me to investigate. It seems it keeps charting a strange course.”

  Hugh held up his hand. “Thanks, can’t help you there. It’s out of my jurisdiction.”

  Remy escorted her out, then returned to find Hugh alone. “Where’s Livie?”

  “She’s writing a letter to Scott.”

  Remy started after her.

  “Stop, Rem. It was my idea,” said Hugh. “I wanted to be alone with you for a minute.”

  He pulled her close to him and she felt something in the pocket of his pants. “Is that a gun, or are you just happy to see me?” she asked in her best Groucho Marx voice.

  “I’m always happy to see you.” He kissed her deeply. “Consider this your engagement present.” He pulled out the busk, handing it to her. “They say home is where the heart is. You are my heart. I think I’m home.”

  She stared at the whalebone. The words united them. “And you expect me to wear it in my corset?”

  “Over your heart,” he smiled.

  “Forever and ever,” she responded, smiling back.

  * * *

  “That was lovely.” Marum drifted upward, relief showing in her face.

  “It was a good idea to include Georgia. Your handling was nothing short of brilliant.”

  “We work well together, Sten. You really are a great teacher.”

  Sten lowered his head, accepting the compliment. “I have news,” he told her gravely.

  Marum’s hand crept to her throat.

  “Really, it’s nothing terrible, Marum. You’ve been promoted.”

  “What?”

  “Yes,” Sten said, opening his white wings wide. Stretching them to their full extension, he flapped them, rising. “You’ve been named a guardian. Congratulations.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Marum was shocked by the great honor. “I. . .like being with you,” she added softly.