by Rick Hautala
“About what?” He thought she meant what Bri had said about the “church-wood.”
“About me being stubborn … bullheaded? That once I’m committed to something, I can never admit I’m wrong?” She looked up at him, her eyebrows arched.
John nodded slightly. “I hope so,” he said, snickering. “At least when it comes to living with me.”
Julia’s smile widened. Touching him gently on the cheek, she drew his face close to hers. They kissed long and passionately, and Julia shifted to press her body against his. One of John’s hands moved in a slow, sensuous circle from her shoulder up her neck to cup the back of her head. The other hand slid down the small of her back, pressing her hips against him.
When the kiss broke off, Julia smiled at him and moved her hand from his chest down over his stomach and slid them into his underpants. She gripped his stiffening manhood and gave it a few gentle upward strokes.
“Maybe we should turn the light on behind us,” John said in a husky voice, “and give the neighbors a show.
Julia grinned but then backed away, suddenly concerned that anyone outside could easily see them. She went quickly to the couch and slid under the covers. Propping herself up on one elbow, she undid the top two buttons of her nightgown and said, “Once you’re through taking with the view, I’ve got something else to show you.”
V
A sudden blast of sound slammed into Julia’s sleep like a sledgehammer hitting the side of the house. Before she could register where she was, she sat bolt upright in bed and let out a loud scream.
“Huh — wha … What is it?” John said as he scrambled off the couch, feeling blindly for the wall light switch. He slammed his knee against the coffee table and went down with a howl.
Julia clutched the sheet to her chest, her heart pulsating in her throat as her eyes widened, trying to take everything in. She remember they were on the couch in the living room and that a horrendously loud noise had catapulted her out of sleep. She waited in the dark, listening as John scrambled to his feet. She hoped, if she heard the sound once the lights were on, she’d be able to identify it.
At the same instant, John found the wall switch and snapped it on, and the sound came again. From outside came a low, throaty honk that gradually rose up the scale. Julia’s fearfilled eyes latched on to John’s.
“You mean that?” He nodded toward the window, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
The sound continued for a second or two and then abruptly dropped off into silence. Once it was gone, Julia had the distinct sensation it had never really been there, that she had imagined it.
“What the hell is it?” Her eyes darted frantically from John to the living room window. Outside, all she could see was the steadily blinking light from Great Diamond. The street out from was dark. Julia glanced at her wristwatch to see what time it was.
Quarter past three. Who — or what — the hell would make a sound like that at this hour? she wondered.
“It’s the foghorn out on Great Diamond,” John was smiling as he walked back to the couch and sat down on the edge. He placed his hand gently on Julia’s knee beneath the covers.
“Does it —” she started to say but then cut herself off when the sound came again, filling the night.
“Mom …?” Bri’s voice came faintly from upstairs, tentative with fear.
Both Julia and John turned to see her as she came to the top of the stairs. She leaned over the railing, glancing around the living room.
“It’s all right, hon,” Julia said.
“Are you all okay?” Bri asked warily. “I thought you shouted.” She covered her throat protectively with one hand.
Flushed with embarrassment, Julia shook her head.
“We’re okay. The, uh — The foghorn caught me by surprise, is all,” she finished lamely.
“Oh,” Bri said simply. She came the rest of the way down the stairs and sat in the rocking chair near the fireplace. She hadn’t noticed the foghorn until that moment. She was, in fact, rather surprised she hadn’t. She had gone to bed earlier than usual and lain there, looking up at the ceiling, fully expecting to hear the low, throbbing notes of organ music reverberating in the woodwork. She had no idea what time she had finally drifted off to sleep, but she had been expecting to wake up at the slightest sound.
“Well,” John said, rubbing his hands vigorously together, “now that we’re all up — Wait a minute, should I wake up my father, too?”
“Don’t be silly,” Julia said, shaking her head.
“I just thought since we’re having a little party and all.”
Julia rubbed her face with her hands and yawned.
“I’m sorry, all right? I wasn’t expecting that, and when I woke up, I didn’t remember where I was, so I kind of panicked.”
“Real good, Mom,” Bri said, glancing at John with a teasing twinkle in her eye.
“Well, we’re up now,” John said. “Why don’t the two of you enjoy the view? This’ll help.” He snapped off the living room light, plunging the room into darkness. “I’ll go warm up some milk to soothe any jangled nerves.”
“Good idea,” Julia said, “seeing as how your father doesn’t have any herbal tea.” She emphasized the “h” in herbal, chuckling as her gaze drifted back to the steadily pulsing light in the window. When the sound of the foghorn came again, she was ready for it and actually found it rather soothing — now that she knew what it was.
“Be back in a jiff,” John said.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Julia’s nerves gradually unwound. She sat with her back against the couch and, patting the space beside her, invited Bri to sit with her. They didn’t speak as they sat watching the weak flood of light come and go … come and go. Each pulse showed them, faintly, an image of themselves reflected in the living room window.
“A lot or a little?” John called from the kitchen.
“A lot,” Julia shouted.
“Me, too,” Bri said.
Julia lost track of how long it was taking John to heat up the milk. There was something so calming … so peaceful about the gentle patter of rain against the window, the drops glowing like bright, silvery beads with every flash from the lighthouse. Finally, footsteps approached from the kitchen, and she and Bri straightened up.
John was carrying three cups filled with warm milk on a tray, using both hands and feeling his way carefully in the dark. He knew where the coffee table was and would avoid it this time. His shins still ached from the impact. He was about to say something like, “Here it is,” when the light from the lighthouse came and winked off.
In that moment, he saw — thought he saw — something that made his breath catch in his chest. His tongue felt too large for his mouth and made it impossible to speak.
“John?” Julia said, her voice drifting like a disembodied spirit out of the darkness.
John stood frozen in the living room entryway, his body bathed by a cold sweat. He was tensed — waiting for the light to come again. In spite of the sudden ground swell of panic, he couldn’t react. He couldn’t move. He had to wait … wait for the flash of light to see if his eyes had been playing a trick on him or if ...
The dark square of the window suddenly blossomed with warm yellow again. John could vaguely distinguish the reflections of the objects in the room — the couch, the easy chair …
He held his breath until it burned in his lungs as he watched the brightening reflection in the rain-skimmed window.
“Holy shit.” He might have spoken out loud, or it might only have been a thought.
The light grew steadily brighter, reached its peak, then began to fade, but this time he had no doubt about what he saw. The light illuminated Julia and Bri, casting their reflections in the window, but there was something else … something that sent a chill rippling up his spine.
Something gray ... slouched and gray that looked frighteningly like a person was dangling from the ceiling behind the couch, slowly twisting around.
>
As the light from the lighthouse faded, the reflected image dimmed. John wasn’t sure if he had seen or imagined it.
“What is it?” Julia asked, glancing over her shoulder. When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “Come on, John …This is no time to be playing games.”
John wanted to say something, but he still was unable to get anything more than a shallow breath into his lungs. It felt as though he were in the embrace of some giant who was intent on crushing the air out of him.
“John?” Julia said sharply.
She shifted on the couch and looked at him, but he stood there, his eyes riveted by the darkness, focusing on the spot in the picture window where the reflection had been … where he knew, when the light came again, he would see ...
It hadn’t really been there, he kept telling himself, but in the dark, the cold, dark body dangling in the space between him and the couch was a palpable presence.
The darkness suddenly brightened again, and the room lit up. John was so wound up he wanted to scream as he looked up, expecting the light to reveal the gray shape hanging from the ceiling. The light filled the living room, its brightness peaking and then quickly fading. John’s numbed brain flooded with relief. The only people he had seen reflected in the window were Julia and Bri.
No one else, his mind shouted with glee. There was nothing else there.
He took a step forward, hoping his hesitation would be read simply as his caution in the dark.
“I — -umm, I’m having a little trouble finding my way,” he said.
To his own ears, his voice sounded strangled and weak.
“The lighthouse light kinda threw me off.”
“Bri, get the light, will you?” Julia said.
John stopped where he was, not willing to chance a spill while Bri went over to the wall and threw the switch. The living room was immediately bathed in yellow light as he went over to the coffee table and carefully set down the tray.
“Well, well, well,” he said, straightening up and brushing his hands together. “Lookee here. I didn’t spill a drop.”
He smiled with satisfaction, but all he could think about was what he had seen.
No, he told himself. What I thought I saw … a trick reflection from the lighthouse … or a shadow or something on the picture window.
Bri came back to the couch and sat down next to her mother, bouncing up and down like a little kid.
“This is fun,” she said, reaching for the nearest mug. She held it in both hands and blew over the top before taking a sip.
Julia frowned and scratched her head. “We should all be asleep, and we would be if that damned lighthouse foghorn hadn’t scared me.”
As he moved to sit on the couch, John noticed that Bri and Julia were sitting in the same spots he had seen them in when the lighthouse light had been the only illumination in the room. His back was toward the kitchen, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled when he thought about the gray shape he had seen hanging from the ceiling behind the couch.
“Here you go, honey,” Julia said as she handed him a cup of milk.
He took the cup, angry that his fingers were trembling as he raised it to his mouth. The momentary image of that gray figure still burned vividly in his mind as though it were etched in acid. He took a sip of the warm milk, but it tasted sour and clotted as it slipped down his throat.
“You okay?” Julia asked.
Damn her for noticing, John thought even as he smiled, nodded, and said, “Yeah ... sure.”
Bri had stopped bouncing on the couch and was sitting now, staring at the blank rectangle of the window as the lighthouse light pulsed on and off. She hadn’t taken any more sips after the first tentative one.
The foghorn still hooted in the darkness … like a lost, lonely soul, Julia thought, but she realized she wasn’t noticing it as much now that she was expecting it.
“You know,” Bri said suddenly, turning to look at her parents. “I was just thinking ... “
When Julia and John saw tears welling up in her eyes, they had a pretty good idea that she had been thinking about Bungle.
“If —” she choked on the first word but then forced herself to go on. “If Bungle was here right now, he’d be trying his best to take a lick out of my cup.”
Julia said nothing as she placed her arm around Bri’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring hug.
“If you’d like,” John said, “maybe we can ask around on the island and get a new cat for you.” His gaze followed hers to the black slab of the window, but his mind was filled with what he had seen — No, goddamnit! …what I thought I saw — reflected there. His mind played with the idea that somehow there had been someone outside looking in, and the trick of the reflection had made it look as if he was in the living room.
But how the hell could that be? John wondered. And who could have been outiside, looking in at them at three 0’ clock in the morning, a curious neighbor?
He took a shaky breath, wanting to look away but was unable to. No matter how many times he told himself it had been a trick reflection in the glass — maybe something to do with the double-pane storm window — he couldn’t blot out that image of someone suspended in midair, hanging between him and the couch.
“No,” Bri said, her voice sounding tight. “I don’t want to get another cat” She slurped noisily as she took another sip of milk. “I think — I don’t know. I kinda feel like Bungle would be mad at me or something if he knew I replaced him so fast. Know what I mean?”
The image of rain-matted fur and Bungle’s sightless stare up at the gray sky rose unbidden in her mind.
Julia looked at her daughter and smiled knowingly.
“I think I do,” she said, her voice low and warm. “When you lose someone you love, waiting is the right thing to do — to honor their memory.” She appreciated being able to be the strong, knowing, and caring mother after getting scared like a little child and waking up — well, almost the whole household.
“Well, I don’t know about anyone else,” John said suddenly … a bit too suddenly, judging by the look Julia gave him. “But I’m feeling sleepy.” In spite of the heat of the liquid, he gulped down what was left in his cup. “What say we all hit the sack?”
Julia sat there looking at him as though he were an odd specimen; then she finished her warm milk and, placing the cup on the coffee table, nodded her agreement.
“Yeah. Bri — get yourself back to bed. We’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow — if this rain lets up.”
“You know what they say. ‘If this rain keeps up, it won’t come down.’“
She kissed them each good night, and, even though she didn’t relish the thought of going upstairs in this strange new house by herself, she said a cheerful good night and boldly walked up the stairs to her new bedroom.
VI
“So what’s bothering you?” Julia asked once the light was out again, and they were snuggled under the covers.
John rolled over and looked at her. His back was to the window, and the pulsing light from the lighthouse steadily blossomed and faded, casting faint yellow light onto the walls of the living room. Steely tension wound up inside him as he imagined — that’s all it is … imagination — that gray shape reflected in the window.
Who the hell could it have been? he wondered as his mind clicked off a few possibilities, none of which made sense. The lighthouse had shown the reflection only once ... well, twice, but the first time had been so sudden and so shocking, he hadn’t registered it until the room had plunged back into darkness. The second time, when he had been ready, the image had been blurred, as though it was the dim reflection of a reflection … an image trying to condense into reality.
“Well?” Julia said, prodding him in the ribs with her fingertips.
“I —” John’s voice caught in his throat, and in spite of himself, he suddenly rolled over and stared at the living room window, prepared to see something — someone — standing outside the house, a
harsh black outline against the rainy night. But the window was empty except for the circle of light from the lighthouse.
“God, John, you’re acting all freaked out or something,” Julia said. She rolled onto her belly, propping herself up on her elbows, and looked at him.
“You know tonight … when I was getting the warm milk?” he said, his voice rattling in his throat, “I thought I saw — I don’t know.” He shook his head and forced out a nervous chuckle. “It sort of looked like my … my mother or … someone reflected in the living room window.”
“What do you mean?” Julia said. She paused and then laughed softly in the dark. “Is this another one of those stories, like that crap about the church wood your father tried to scare Bri with?”
John shook his head vigorously. “I’m serious,” he said. “I saw … something in the window.”
Julia felt blindly in the dark until she found his face and gave him a quick kiss.
‘‘G’night,’’ she said, as if she didn’t believe him.
She was exhausted and didn’t want John’s little spooky story and the steady tooting of the foghorn to ruin the rest of her first night’s sleep in their new house. She settled down, her back to her husband, and slept solidly until the morning sun, rising up over the ocean, lanced her eyes.
John, on the other hand, lay there in the dark with his hands clasped behind his head as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. For the first time in his life, the haunting sound of the foghorn filled him with cold and lonely thoughts. He drifted in and out of sleep, picturing himself out there on the night-stained ocean, tossing around and being pulled helplessly by the rushing waves and tides.
Over and over, the ceiling would lighten with a wash of light and then fade. Every now and then, he would snap his head to the side and look at the window, positive that in the corner of his eye he had caught a fleeting glimpse of motion outside. Whenever he sensed something — someone — hanging from the ceiling. behind the couch, he shivered and, staring up at the darkness, waited for the flash of light from the lighthouse to show him that there was nothing there.
