The House on Stone's Throw Island

by Dan Poblocki

  “Unfortunately, no. Maybe there’s something wrong with the radio. Or maybe it’s on Sonny’s end. When Charlie finishes cleaning up lunch, I’ll ask him to come in and take a look at it.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you, Gregory.” From the window, Margo glimpsed the woods and part of the grassy slope that led down to the wharf.

  As the winds rose, the clouds dashed from one horizon to the other. This only added to the strange feeling she hadn’t been able to shake since before stepping off Sonny’s ferry that morning — the feeling caused by the men she’d seen watching her from shore. Then there was the girl who’d disappeared into one of the bedrooms upstairs when Margo’d first gone up to prep the sleeping arrangements. She’d checked the room but found it empty.

  She felt like she hadn’t been getting enough sleep, but she couldn’t very well lie down right now and take a nap. What she could do, however, was try to get in touch with her own family. But in order to do that, she’d have to get through to Sonny.

  Months earlier, when Margo told her brother about the wedding out on Stone’s Throw, he was surprised. Robert was familiar with many of the islands off Haggspoint, but Stone’s Throw was not one of them.

  After the recent sale, rumors spread that fishermen had encountered strange equipment in the waters nearby — corroded contraptions that looked like some sort of old-fashioned surveillance gear attached to buoys with thick, barnacle-crusted cables that dropped deep into the churning gulf. They had hinted that the government might have once carried out secret tests in the old mansion during the early days of the Cold War. Margo dismissed these tales as no more believable than the local legends she’d grown up with.

  But she could not dismiss what she was currently feeling: desperation. Robert needed to know that a storm was heading his way.

  Ever since she could remember, their mother, Thea, had had a phobia of thunderstorms. Though Thea lived in an elder-care home miles inland from Haggspoint, Robert would need to be with her, to distract her, lest she throw a fit and hurt herself. If Thea had known that Margo was out in the gulf, on a secluded island no less, Robert would have asked the aides to sedate her; however, the only thing that Margo had mentioned to her was she was working a wedding over the weekend and that she’d be back on Monday night.

  “Darn it,” said Gregory, still concentrating on the radio. “Almost had something. Did you hear that? A voice?”

  “No,” said Margo, staring out the window, as if lost in a dream. “I missed it.”

  Outside, the two children, brother and sister of the bride and groom, stood on the wharf beyond the boathouse with some of the adults, throwing fishing lines out into the turbulent surf. She felt a pang, remembering how she and Robert had once played along the coastline, on Sundays when their father had been alive. Margo watched, enthralled as the girl struggled to reel in what looked like a ten-pound something-or-other.

  Margo touched the glass and released a soft gasp. The object Josie had pulled up was a large black boot, tall and decayed, dripping with yellow tendrils of weed. The group at the wharf laughed when she dropped the boot onto the deck. Margo, however, felt sick. Though she couldn’t quite make out details, it looked like it might have been the same type of boot the men had been wearing as they’d watched the ferry approach the island earlier that morning — the men whom Charlie insisted did not exist.

  FROM THE DIARY OF DORY M. SAUVAGE

  Saturday, September 5, 1942

  Dear Diary,

  I made it to the island without being discovered!

  Currently, I am sitting in my secret room, writing to you by candlelight. Outside, it has started to storm, hopefully just a passing squall. The sound of the rain on the roof is making me sleepy. But I cannot sleep. Not yet! I haven’t even begun the sabotage of Frankie’s party.

  I spent the afternoon and the evening around the house and the yard in various hiding spots, listening in on their conversations, and I’ve learned a few things about my brother that I can certainly use as collateral the next time he decides to leave me out of his plans. And I thought that his roommate, Emil, was the troublemaker of the two! This has been so exciting. I feel like one of those undercover agents in Europe who you see in the newsreels at the movies!

  Just after the sun had set, when I was out back by the trees collecting muddy stones, I did notice something odd. I’m not sure what to make of it. Emil appeared in one of the bedroom windows upstairs. He stood staring out at the ocean. In one hand, he held up a kerosene lantern that he must have brought onto the island, because I certainly don’t remember my father having anything like that here. With his other hand, Emil was waving his palm before the flame, up and down, in a strange pattern. It made me a little nervous to see him doing this — Daddy spent an entire evening with the family at the beginning of the summer warning Mama and the staff why villages up and down the East Coast must keep lights off after sunset. We don’t want to become targets of the enemy. And any light in the darkness can be revealing.

  I’ll have to mention this to Emil once I expose my presence. I wouldn’t want him to make that mistake again.

  More soon …

  Your friend,

  Dory M. Sauvage

  NO ONE CAUGHT a fish. But everyone was having so much fun, it didn’t matter.

  By the time Josie had dragged the boot up from the choppy water, the small group was too giddy to focus anymore. Minutes later, a gust of wind whipped down the hill from the house, shaking the pine branches furiously, and barreled into Eli, pushing him precariously close to the edge of the wharf. After that, Otis decided it was time to call it quits. Even Aimee, who’d cast her reel with such intensity as if to beat Mother Nature at her game, reluctantly conceded that it was best to bring the party back inside. As soon as she and Bruno stepped onto the path up to the house, rain began to fall.

  Josie and Eli raced ahead, clutching their lunch plates, happy they’d gone fishing with Bruno and Aimee and Otis instead of hiding away as they’d done for most of the morning.

  Once inside, they stopped off in the kitchen and placed the plates in the dishwasher.

  “I’ve got to charge my phone for a few minutes,” said Josie. “We can hang out in my room, if you want.”

  But when they reached the top of the stairs, a peach-colored blur flew past them down the hallway, shocking the two into silence. Josie and Eli froze where they stood, watching as a girl stopped before Josie’s bedroom door. The girl swung the door inward and disappeared inside.

  “That’s her!” said Josie, dashing off in the same direction.

  Eli followed. “The girl?”

  “Yes, the girl! She’s back.”

  Josie grappled with the doorknob. It wouldn’t turn, as if someone on the other side was holding it in place. “Hey!” Josie called out. “We need to talk to you!”

  Josie cranked her wrist to the right and the knob gave way, but when she pushed on the door, it held tight. She felt the girl pressing back and remembered her experience earlier that morning — the way the girl had burst through the door and then leaned against it, as if to keep someone out. The same thing was happening again here, as if someone had rewound time and pressed play, only now, Josie was seeing the film from another angle. Soon, the pressure lessened, and Josie’s weight carried the door inward. Falling across the threshold, she caught a glimpse of the closet door slamming shut. The girl had once again escaped into the sequestered shadows.

  Eli slipped past Josie and into the room. He raced to the closet door and yanked it open. “Wait!” Josie called out, worried that the girl might pounce on him.

  But when Josie saw Eli’s confused expression, she understood immediately — the girl wasn’t there.

  WIND RUSHED THROUGH the open window, whipping the gauzy curtains. Droplets of rain splattered through the screen onto the wood floor. The breeze caught the bedroom door and slammed it shut behind them. Surprised, Josie and Eli stumbled away from the closet and toward the end of the big bed as if the safe
st place in the room might just be underneath it.

  After a minute, Josie broke toward the window, slipping slightly on the wet floor, and drew down the sash. The curtains fell flat. But the wind thrashed rain at the old, rippled glass, rattling several loose panes and declaring the storm’s frenzied arrival.

  She turned her attention back to the closet door. “You saw her, right?” Josie asked. “We both saw her.”

  Eli nodded. The frightened, electric feeling that had buzzed his bones at the fort that morning was back. His fingertips prickled, and he fought to slow his breath.

  Josie shook her head. “So where is she now?” She waved her arms up and down to indicate the empty closet.

  Eli approached it again. Standing in the doorway, he observed solid white surfaces. There was a sharp simplicity to the space. He allowed himself to imagine the impossibility of a girl disappearing into it like a magician’s apprentice into a box on a stage — but there was always a trick to those shows, some sort of secret that the audience never learned.

  Though the window was closed, he shivered as if another gust rushed the room. He turned to face Josie. “She was covered in mud and dirt. Right?”

  “I was able to catch a better glimpse the first time she ran through,” she answered, “but yes, she was filthy. Her dress was practically plastered to her body.” Eli nodded at the bedroom door. It was painted bone-white. He pointed at the closet’s crystal doorknob. Josie squinted at him, confused. Then, her lips parted. She drew a small breath. “No handprints. No dirt.”

  “So she cleaned up after herself?”

  Josie didn’t know what to think. She sat on the mattress and drew her knees to her chest.

  Eli stepped toward her, but when she flinched, he kept his distance. “Josie,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady, “do you believe in ghosts?”

  She sneered. “As opposed to cannibals?”

  Eli tried to smile but ended up grimacing awkwardly. “Forget about cannibals,” he said, then shook his head. “Do you believe that places can be haunted?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought seriously about it before.” Josie stared into the open closet. Her vision blurred and she could almost see the figure of the girl staring back out at her. She closed her eyes. “But, yeah, I guess I could believe that this house is haunted.”

  “Okay, that’s a start. But what if it’s not just the house?” said Eli, settling onto the mattress several feet from her. He nodded toward the window. Josie turned and looked at the ruins in the distance. “What if it’s the whole island?”

  JOSIE SLID OFF the bed with a groan and landed on the floor with a hearty thump. She tapped the edge of the closet door tentatively with her toe, and the door swung shut. Distracted, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and strolled around to the other side of the bed, where she’d left her duffel bag. She rifled through one of its compartments until she located her charger, then she plugged her phone into the outlet at the baseboard behind the bedside table.

  Eli watched, confused. “No thoughts on the matter?”

  Josie stood up straight and stared into his eyes. “You’re suggesting that the voices we heard at the fort weren’t barking seals. And the girl who keeps sneaking into my bedroom isn’t a member — or a victim — of a cannibalistic family. The answer is as simple as … ghosts.” She crossed her arms. “Great. So what?”

  “So what?”

  “Yeah, so what? You want to go talk to the Gagnons again? Or maybe your dad? You think that’ll help? You think you’re going to figure out some sort of mystery? The Case of Stone’s Throw Island. Ha.”

  “I don’t know,” Eli answered. He remembered how she’d embarrassed him that morning in the solarium. Was she acting this way again because she was too scared to consider the truth? “Maybe.”

  Josie sighed slowly, her breath fluttering nervously. “We’re only here for a couple days. The wedding will happen. It will be exactly what Aimee and Bruno dreamed, and then we’ll go home to our normal lives. Is yours really so boring that you need to look for adventure around every corner?”

  “I wasn’t looking for adventure. Adventure found me.” Eli felt strange sitting on her bed while she stood beside it, glaring at him.

  Josie blinked and then said, “Adventure is a choice.”

  “It may be a choice if you choose to live your life with your eyes closed, ignoring everything that’s happening around you. Since when are you so gung ho on this whole wedding thing, anyway? I thought we were on the same page.”

  “So you’re willing to sabotage your own sister’s wedding?”

  “Sabotage? Who said anything about sabotage?”

  “What do you think will happen if we keep going on about this? Are you hoping the party will turn into one giant ghost hunt that you can turn into a graphic novel someday?”

  “It’s not like that. It’s about finding out the truth. All I’m saying is that a stupid wedding shouldn’t stop that from happening.”

  “And I’m saying that it should! This is not about you and me. This isn’t about what we want. Right now, we are characters in someone else’s story.”

  “Exactly! The story of the girl and the island and what happened here.”

  “No. The story belongs to Bruno and Aimee. They are the reason we’re here.”

  “You sound like our parents.”

  Josie blushed. She lowered her voice. “What will it hurt to keep quiet about all this? To go downstairs and sit and listen to everyone moan about the weather? I brought a book to read. I’ve got games on my phone. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, but —”

  “Good. Then let’s get out of here. Let’s stay with the others. And let’s just be … ordinary for a while.”

  “You really think looking deeper into what’s happening here will ruin the wedding?”

  Josie laughed. “Well, it’s not going to make it better.”

  Eli felt his face go slack with disappointment. “I know what you’re doing.”

  Josie crossed her arms and knitted her dark eyebrows. “And what’s that?”

  “You’re scared.”

  Josie scoffed. “If I’m scared, maybe it’s because you’re scaring me.”

  “I’m only stating what seems obvious!”

  “Yes, but it’s more complicated than what’s obvious. Please. I don’t want to be in here anymore. In case …” Josie cleared her throat and then made for the bedroom door.

  “In case?” He knew exactly how she was going to finish the sentence, but he wanted to hear her say it.

  In case the girl comes back.

  “In case … anyone is wondering where we are.”

  THEY SPLIT UP. Eli stomped off down the stairs and into a long hallway on the first floor of the house, while Josie found her mother sitting with Cynthia Barker in a small parlor just off the foyer. They were curling red ribbon with the edges of scissors, preparing decorations for the wedding.

  Josie stood in the doorway, unnoticed by the two women, and listened briefly to their conversation. She was horrified to discover that they were talking about how they both felt too young to be grandparents — so horrified, in fact, that she didn’t feel bad at all about interrupting them.

  “Mom?”

  Vivian and Cynthia both jumped, as if their chairs had given off a small electric pulse. “Hey there!” said Vivian. “Where’ve you been? What’ve you been up to?”

  “Oh, you know. Exploring. We went fishing earlier. I caught a boot, and Eli almost fell off the dock.” Funny, Josie thought, how those were the moments of the morning that she chose to share. Easy. Silly. What her family wanted to hear.

  Vivian and Cynthia laughed politely.

  “Mom, can I, uh, talk to you for a minute?”

  Vivian scrunched up her forehead. “Of course, honey,” she answered. Cynthia read the cue and excused herself. Josie took her place in the tall, straight-backed chair by the window. Outside, the rain and wind whistled and whined.

  A
s her mother stared with concern, Josie thought about Eli and his stories. His theories. Upstairs, he had been right — she was scared. And now, although she’d be slightly ashamed to admit it, she found herself behaving in a way she’d thought she’d long outgrown: She’d come to her mother for comfort.

  “What is it?” asked Vivian. “Aren’t you having fun? Is Eli being nice?” She lowered her voice. “Cynthia says he can be a little … fiery.”

  “Eli’s fine. And fiery. Whatever. I can be fiery too. This isn’t about Eli. I just have a question for you.”

  Vivian waited, curious.

  “Have you ever seen a ghost?” Josie asked.

  Immediately, her mother’s face grew grim. “Josephine,” she said. “We did not come all this way for nonsense like this. The wedding is in a day and a half. Everyone is stressed out. Please don’t be starting anything.”

  “I’m not! It’s just —”

  “Did Eli plant this idea in your head? His father says —”

  “His father’s a jerk,” Josie snapped.

  Vivian recoiled. “His father is about to become part of our family. I don’t want to hear you say that again.” She blinked and then added, “Even if it’s slightly true.”

  Josie withheld a smile. “This isn’t about Eli. Mom, I just really need to know.” She reached out and placed her hand on her mother’s knee. “Have you ever seen a ghost?” she asked again.

  Vivian sighed, softening. “No, honey. I don’t believe I have.”

  “But you think it’s possible? To see ghosts, I mean.”

  “I don’t know. Plenty of people seem to think so.”

  “Do you think they can hurt us?”

  “No,” said Vivian immediately. “No way.”

  “You’re just saying that to shut me up.”

  “Excuse me, miss, I’m not saying it only to shut you up. I also think it’s true.”

  “So, if there were ghosts on this island, they’d be harmless, right?”