Twice as Dark: Two Novels of Horror

by Glen Krisch

  Raucous laughter shook the house. The wine had flowed since noon, and now it was getting on to evening with the sun falling from its highest point. Mr. Hauser had started to play his fiddle--his enthusiasm for the instrument far outweighing any natural ability. Even so, people were stomping their feet to the beat and clapping along. Jacob could see heads bouncing, hair lank with sweat, as people danced passed the open windows.

  The kids stayed outside. Some reclined while recovering from too much food, others were tumbling and stumbling their way across the yard, working off their energies chasing one another.

  A group of older girls had gathered around Louise, while children under their care played at their feet. Despite her discomfort, Louise seemed to enjoy the attention. She only needed to intimate a need--more cucumber salad, a cool cloth to place on the back of her neck--and one of her attendants would see to it. She had become a local celebrity of a sort. She was an anomaly. A young, unmarried pregnant woman not living with her family or future spouse. Even so, she had been welcomed to her neighbors' bosom. His mom had been right all along.

  Three boys were playing a game of marbles in a dirt patch near the barn. Others were splashing in the creek out past their stand of peach trees. From the sound of it, they were hounding bullfrogs out from under the grassy overhang lining the steep shoreline.

  Jacob was content right where he was. Everyone seemed so happy, but to him, it felt hollow. He couldn't go along with it any longer; from now on, he would stay out of it. Day in day out he had to nod and agree with his mom about Jimmy's whereabouts. It pained him to celebrate today when his brother was somewhere close. He wished he could switch places with him, no matter where he was or what was happening to him.

  Slumping lower at the base of the tree, comfortable and full, drowsiness nearly overtook him. But then he saw Mary Wilmot walking in his direction. Yet a ways away, her delicate hands toyed with a blade of grass. She was alone, and no one else was near Jacob. He was her intended target, he realized. Her intended.

  Before she could get too close, he quickly stood and returned to the house. He nodded in her direction without looking, kept walking, his heart beating faster. At the back door, Cooper was leaning against the frame, sipping iced tea.

  "That was a close one." Cooper's eyes were clear and contemplative. He seemed to be one of the few sober adults.

  "Yeah. I guess."

  "Seems like a nice girl."

  Jacob didn't say anything. Mary returned to the group of girls. Ellie and a group of the younger ones were playing tiddly winks. Mary looked disappointed at his hasty retreat, but not overly so. Louise sat on a tree stump, rubbing her belly and looking uncomfortable. Mary briefly chatted with her before they turned their attentions to the children playing in the grass.

  "My advice, girls are confusing, at any age. Keep a hold of your wits, or one is liable to take possession of them."

  Jacob didn't want to talk about Mary, or about girls in general. Not with Cooper. He didn't want to go inside either. As if on cue, his mom let off a loud peal of laughter, and now he certainly didn't want to go inside. He considered returning to the shade tree, but thought better of it.

  Cooper took a long drink of iced tea. The melting ice chips clinked as he drained it.

  Jacob saw an opportunity and went for it. Maybe he didn't need to leave home to learn about Cooper's role in Jimmy's discovery. The man was standing right in front of him. "Want another?"

  Cooper nodded, handing the empty glass to the boy.

  As Jacob entered the house, his mother stepped out, her cheeks flushed crimson, the remains of laughter perking the corner of her lips.

  "Why, hello, Mr. Cooper."

  "Oh, hi, Jane. Nice day. Great food."

  "Thanks. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. I just needed some fresh air." She blew a stray strand of hair from her eyes. Her hands were on her hips as she scanned the children carousing across the yard. Seeing her so carefree and relaxed, Cooper could see a glimpse of the girl she was before the responsibilities of adulthood stole the last of her childhood.

  A roar of laughter came from inside as the music stopped. Too-loud voices engaging in several conversations at once filled the silence.

  "Yeah." Cooper laughed. "Everyone seems to be having a fine time."

  Certain that the children were behaving themselves, she turned back to Cooper, smirking. "That would be Dr. Thompson's mulberry wine. He brought along two cases." Jane fanned herself with her palm in an effort to cool. "I didn't have any myself."

  "Didn't I see you with a wine glass?"

  "You caught me. That was just a prop. I'm not much of a drinker, but I didn't think I could enjoy myself if I didn't at least appear otherwise. Besides, Mr. Cooper, the day isn't about me. It's about Louise. Family. Community."

  Before an uncomfortable silence could settle on their conversation, Jacob stepped outside with a tray with three glasses of tea. He gave one a piece to his mom and Cooper, and then took the last for himself.

  "Thanks, dear. I was getting parched. Why don't you go off with the other boys. Me and Mr. Cooper are talking."

  Jacob looked upset having so quickly been cast aside. Cooper was surprised at Jane's forwardness. He had planned on staying just as long as it took to have his drink, and then take off for home. He was beginning to feel the familiar pull of the Blankenship home. They wanted him home.

  The boy gulped some tea before returning it to the tray. He slinked away toward the splashing sounds coming from the creek. They watched him leave before continuing. "Now, Mr. Cooper--"

  "Jane, please call me Ted, or Coop. My dad is Mr. Cooper."

  "Fine, Ted. Thanks for coming. We're not so bad, are we?"

  "No, not so bad."

  They both laughed, their eye contact lingering.

  "Jacob's a great kid. I've seen how he is with Ellie."

  "It's been tough sometimes, but you're right, he's a great kid. Both of my boys are."

  "Children are a direct reflection of their parents. It's admirable, you taking on all that yourself."

  "It wasn't by choice, trust me. I married Dwight a month shy of my sixteenth birthday. Jimmy came along a year later. I was so young when Dwight passed, I didn't know I was in over my head until the boys had grown and it didn't matter."

  Cooper was doing the math in his head while trying to pay attention to what Jane was saying. Thirty-two. Jane Fowler was thirty-two.

  A couple stepped outside, surprised at how dark it was getting. If memory served from his earlier introduction, their name was Nightingale. They were farmers. Mr. Nightingale used to also work in the Grendal mines before they shut down. He still carried a nasty miner's cough, and tended to hack away when he laughed, but he didn't seem put out by it. They seemed like a nice enough family.

  "Children?" Mrs. Nightingale asked Jane. She leaned against her husband for both comfort and balance.

  "I just saw the girls running around down by the barn. Ralph is probably down by the orchard with the other boys collecting lightning bugs."

  "Thanks. Wonderful evening." At that, the Nightingales went to search for their kids. When they were off a ways, Mr. Nightingale growled into his wife's ear. She gave off a girlish shriek and scampered away.

  Cooper, regaining the thread of their conversation, said, "Fifteen is awfully young to be marrying."

  "I know, I know. One of the hardest things in life is to tell love to wait. Sometimes it hits so strong. When you're young, you just can't help it. I wouldn't do anything different, well, besides…"

  After a moment's pause, Cooper chimed in, "Dwight?"

  Her eyes drifted to the yard, the distant trees, seeing, but not taking anything in. "I've had years to think on it. I would've put my foot down. Not let him go." She turned to him, and her eyes were glassy, intense. "He was a few years older than me, but he seemed to know so much more. At the time, I didn't think I could convince him to stay, if push came to shove. Instead, he convinced me that the world ne
eded him to join the fight. Since then I've realized that all he was was a scared boy. He ran instead of facing a life working in the mines."

  "Sometimes it's hard to change a person's mind."

  "Oh, I know. You can't change the past. I just sometimes wonder if Dwight would've stayed the same happy-go-lucky man I married if he wouldn't have gone. He was a changed man when he came home. Not just physically. He was weak and prone to pneumonia--that's what eventually took him from this world--but his mind had changed, too. I believe to this day his mind came back more damaged than his body."

  "I've met people who fought in Europe, and not a one has much good to say about it. If they're willing to talk about it at all."

  "When Dwight came home, I expected all sorts of heroic stories, but all was mum. His stories played out through his eyes. They darkened somehow. He didn't have to say a word." She stared off at the circle around Louise. There were fewer children playing in the yard. A couple here and there. Adults had filtered away to their homes, their kids in tow, waving goodbye to Jane, nodding to acknowledge Cooper. Nightfall was quickly descending.

  He wanted to apologize for speaking about the war at all. He should've steered the conversation away from the sensitive subject, but he couldn't help wanting to hear more.

  Then Jane blinked several times, and then turned to him, almost smiling. "You bought the old Blankenship place, right?"

  "I'm about as surprised as anyone."

  "Now, don't take this wrong, I don't mean any offense, but no one who seen you come into town would've thought you were in any position to buy a house like that."

  "I'm not a wealthy man by any means. Mr. Prescott offered the property as a foreclosure. He just wanted it clear from the bank's balance sheet."

  "So how do you come strolling into Coal Hollow, looking like a man who hasn't been settled for quite a while, and all of the sudden buy a house?"

  Cooper was surprised at her candor, and it must have shown.

  "I'm sorry, that's a bit personal isn't it? Can you tell I don't interact much with anyone but family? When you're the mother, it's always a matter of telling the children when to wipe their feet and when to sit up straight. The more direct you are the faster the results."

  "Oh, it's all right, Jane, it's just a long story is all. I'm not from a wealthy family, just comfortable, and until a year ago I worked quite happily as a librarian in Chicago."

  "A librarian?"

  "We all have our secrets," he said and chuckled.

  The sun had gone; all that remained was its weakening echo, and soon it would be full on dark. A concentrated soft yellow glow bound through the yard, accompanied by the giggles and whoops of children. The remaining kids were on the hunt, filling mason jars to the point they could've been used as makeshift lanterns.

  "So why did you leave if you were so happy--there I go again. Don't answer that. I'm sorry," she said, patting his arm.

  "Oh, I loved my job, but I just came to a point where I couldn't stand the silence."

  "There would be a lot of that in the library business, wouldn't there?"

  He laughed. Sure, the library had been quiet, but he had once savored the silence. Then, after meeting Velma Fortune--he still had trouble thinking of her as his grandmother--the silence had become palpably heavy. And with it came self doubt. Wondering who he was, what he was doing with his life. Wondering if he was denying who he was now that he knew his heritage. He had felt lost. A fraud. The silence became maddening.

  "I once loved the quiet of the library and the occasional rasp of pages being turned… knowing people were seeking knowledge and enriching their lives." He finished the tea that Jacob had brought him, now watered down from the melted ice.

  He suddenly wanted to leave, but couldn't find a way to break off the conversation. Jane seemed too close.

  When he looked into her eyes, she seemed close enough to see the thoughts inside his head. He looked away.

  "That changed?"

  "Oh, yes, definitely changed."

  The library patrons sought knowledge, and he missed joining them in the pursuit, but he'd made the right decision. His journey of discovery couldn't take place in the insular world of the library; that would've been impossible. Finding his rightful path could only happen in the real world with people made up of flesh and blood instead of ink and paper.

  "Tell me about it." She leaned closer to him, he assumed so she could see him better in the dark. But the look on her face. Was Jane Fowler leaning in to kiss him?

  Before he could find out either way, he started talking, "You see, my grandmother, I thought she had died when my father was young. That's what I was always told. But last year she came to live with us."

  "That must have been exciting. A new family member coming out of the woodwork, so to speak."

  "I suppose." He couldn't believe he was telling her any of this. But he couldn't stop talking, and she seemed so kind, and it had been so long since he had been so close to a woman.

  "You see," he paused, looking at her face so close to his. Her eyes glimmered, her lips forming a brief smile. "Velma was weak when she came to live with us. She was dying."

  "Oh, how horrible. Just meeting her, too!" Her smile tensed with sadness, then with understanding. After all, her Dwight had been so sick when he returned from the war.

  "We made the most of her months with us. I got to know about a part of my family I never knew about."

  "At least you had that time together." She placed her hand over his and squeezed. He expected her to pull away, but she didn't.

  The last guests came by, a young couple with arms loaded with leftovers and a newborn set of twins, ready for home.

  What was their name? Webster? Brewster? That was it, Cooper realized. Mr. and Mrs. Brewster. They seemed so young, but still somehow fully realized adults. They were set on their rightful path, a path they would follow unwaveringly and in its entirety. He wondered if they knew how lucky they were to be in such a position so early in life.

  "Good night all," Mrs. Brewster said, the baby starting to squawk in her arms.

  "Get those little ones to bed," Jane said, smiling.

  "Thanks, Mrs. Fowler. You've set the standard for future potlucks," Mr. Brewster said. With arms burdened with a basket of cooling leftovers and an irritated baby, he leaned over, extended his hand to Cooper.

  "Kent. Nice to meet you."

  "You too, Coop. We'll be seeing you around town."

  His treatment from the guests surprised Cooper. All with welcomes, well wishes and pleasant good byes. As if he were Jane's equal in the community's eyes; an accepted and respected neighbor. It surprised him even more how good this felt.

  The Brewster's reached their truck. Kent revved the engine, and they were gone. They were once again alone. This time truly alone. Louise had retired when her gaggle of girls had dwindled. Jacob was probably in the barn, or still by the creek. All was quiet.

  Sitting so close in the near-dark, Cooper could only make out Jane's profile, her delicate nose, her soft lips, a gentle crease at the corner of her eye.

  "Family is the most important thing in the world. The only part worth mentioning, if you ask me." She turned to him. "I can't wait to have my family together again. But maybe I'll make due with news on Monday."

  "Monday?" he asked, happy about the change of subject.

  "A letter should be waiting for me. From Jimmy. It better be, or I'll raise a stink when I see him. I'd at least like to have a return address so I can send him the bundle of letters waiting for him. I'm afraid I'm not such a nice mom in some of them. I thought about pulling the harsher ones from the pile, but decided against it. I held my tongue with Dwight; I'm not about to do that with my son."

  He watched her smile broaden, and it nearly broke his heart.

  His pulse stopped racing, as if all at once his adrenaline had frozen solid between heartbeats, leaving a gnawing pain in its wake.

  "Jane… Jane look at me. The kids were right."


  "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice traced with anger.

  "Jimmy's not in the army." His words erased any trace of her happiness.

  "Not you too. He's in Peoria, in training--"

  "No, he's not."

  "How can you say such a thing?" she said, pulling away, standing, her hands on her hips.

  "He's somewhere in Coal Hollow." He reached for her hand, and reluctantly, she let him hold her limp fingers. "Greta was right. I don't know how Bergman came across that information about Jimmy's enlistment--if he made it up himself or someone pressured him to lie--but that's what it is. A lie."

  She pulled away from him, stepping from the back porch, striding across the grass. She started speaking--she would've even if he wasn't following: "I've never trusted that old witch. Never. And you--I obviously can't trust you either. Here I was thinking we were making some kind of connection, and then this."

  Cooper closed the distance between them, continuing, "Jane, it's true. You can trust me."

  "Don't use that word with me. You make it sound obscene. Trust."

  "I have proof."

  She stopped, her back still to him. After a long moment, the croaking of bullfrogs broke the silence. "Fine, show me this proof."

  "We'll have to leave. Visit Greta."

  "I told you I don't trust her."

  "The things she told me, Jane, there's no other possible way she could've known any of it unless her visions have merit. As crazy as it sounds, I believe in her abilities, and I was beyond skeptical before I met her."

  He reached for her, touching her lightly on the elbow, but she shrugged him away, hugging her arms in front of her.

  She stared into his eyes, boldly, unflinchingly. He didn't look away. Perhaps she sensed his sincerity; perhaps her concern for Jimmy overrode all other matters. He didn't know either way, but in the end she squeezed his hand.