by David Clark
In fact, William was so lost in the bliss of the moment, his skin jumped when the words, “Good day, Father,” escaped out of Ainslee’s lips. The fear that accompanied those words forced his head down and his eyes to the ground. At some point he would need to look up and greet her father eye to eye, he knew that. He also knew such public displays of affection, even something so simple, without the father’s permission, was not looked upon with approval.
“Ainslee, William,” said a comforting and aged voice.
The ball of nerves that had squeezed his insides down to a tight and painful speck the size of a pea had loosened slightly. His head rose slowly, as the tension in the muscles of his neck loosened. Black mud-stained shoes were topped by a black cassock that hung loosely on the thin man. At the top, a simple white collar stood out against the black garb. The man’s wrinkled and age-spotted hands were folded neatly in front of him. His weathered face and steel blue eyes smiled at the two below his black wide-brimmed hat.
“Good day, Father,” William said as he greeted Father Logan Henry.
“Nice day for a walk,” he said.
Ainslee said, “Yes, it is, Father.” She held up their combined hands a little higher as if to make sure he saw, and they continued down the road. There was a little more of a hop to her step than there had been.
William, on the other hand, felt his shoulders slump as they walked away, and Ainslee felt it. She also knew why. “No need to worry. He won’t tell anyone. Trust me,” she said, as her hand gave his two quick squeezes.
5
Flames flickered in the fire and seared the remains of the fat that dripped on the grate, while also providing warmth. The aromas of cooked salted beef still wafted around his home. William sat back in his father’s chair while he drank ale from his father’s tin mug. No matter how long his father had been gone, William still saw everything as his father’s. Well, not everything. Thanks to a spooked goat, William had to rebuild the pen, so he guessed the pen was his. The table in the drying house was his, too. Even though it wasn’t much more than a large stump he cut from a tree downed by lightning on the back corner of the farm. It had sat there for months after it fell. When William cut into a sick hen, he knew he needed a new cutting table. It was bad luck, and bad health, to use the same table again after you butchered a sick animal.
He knew how to make a table. Basic carpentry was a necessary skill his father had taught him. It was also something William enjoyed, but that was when he had the time to do it right. Time was something he didn’t have an abundance of on the farm, so the tree seemed like a good solution. The time lying on the ground had allowed it to dry out, which made cutting a large section of the trunk free not a difficult task. Getting it back to the farm was a different story. Its girth was too wide to fit between the sides of his cart. Probably a relief to the horse he had attached to the front. The ground was wet, and the first attempts to drag it had done nothing more than chew up a streak of earth. Again, his horse felt a great sense of relief as he walked him back to his stall. William then faced the last option he had. With the help of the horse before he walked him back to the stall, he tipped the mass of wood up on its end. The section he cut was a three-foot-thick section of the five-foot-wide trunk, and it was round.
With a hard push, the mass of wood rocked forward and then rocked back. Another shove, this time a little harder, sent it rolling forward by about a half a rotation. A third push, a little harder, resulted in the same outcome. Push after push, some harder than the others, to get it up and over an uneven patch of ground here, or out of a hole there, and the stump rolled closer to his home. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to turn it, but he managed that as well. After several hours, he stood exhausted in front of the drying shed and faced a question. Would it fit through the door? That was a question he had never considered when he cut the massive trunk. He eyeballed it a few times and lined it up. With his eyes closed and ears braced for a crash, he gave it a mighty shove. The crash never came. Instead, it rolled forward and through the door, with no issue. William centered it in the room and then pushed it over with a thud. Even as tired as he was, he felt a satisfaction unlike any he had felt before.
He felt a little of that satisfaction as he sat there at the table drinking his ale. Was it the tasty steak he traded for in town and cooked when he got home, or was it the time he spent with Ainslee? He wasn’t sure. What was clear was, any dreams or thoughts of the latter needed to be put out of his mind. There was no future there. Every attempt Ainslee made to convince him otherwise just prolonged the inevitable.
Screams, shouts, and the wild neighing of a horse invaded his deep pondering and snapped William from his momentary pleasure. He sat straight up and listened to the sounds. They were not coming from his animals. That much was clear, but he still sprang up to go check. Each were quiet in their pen, unaffected by the sounds. They were far away, but not that far. It had to be one of the neighboring farms. He peered into the darkness. There, just visible in the settling fog, were spots of light. The lanterns danced in the distance as the yelling continued. William started in that direction, to lend assistance.
As he got closer, he could make out two figures, each with a lantern, moving back and forth frantically. The yelling and shouting he heard surrounded other phrases that he was now able to make out in the distance.
“Father, I tell you...there is something ungodly around. I can feel it in my bones.”
William heard no reply, but assumed the voice he recognized as his neighbor, Gerald Boyd, was talking to the other person out with him, holding a lantern. The lanterns, which had started as just specks of lights, were now globes of lights, inside William saw the figures of two men as they rushed from spot to spot around Gerald’s stables. He waited until he was closer before he called out, “Gerald, everything ok?”
Both globes of light stopped in their tracks. Both figures inside the globes turned toward William as he approached. He felt the quick pinch of pins pricking the skin on the back of his neck. The sensation left, but was replaced by several beads of a cold sweat. He now felt in his bones the same thing Gerald did.
“William, is that you?”
“Yes, Gerald. Everything ok? I heard the yelling.”
The globe to the left walked out to meet William, while the one to the right continued a search for something in the stable. As Gerald’s face came into view, his hand jutted out to greet his neighbor. He took it and gave it a firm shake. William could feel a tremble in his friend’s grip. It was also visible in his face. “What is the trouble?” he asked.
“Something has the animals spooked. I have never heard them make these sounds before.”
William offered a possible cause, “Is it a fox or snake?”
That suggestion was met with a quick shake of Gerald’s head. He pulled him close and said, “It is not something of this world. I know it.”
“Oh, come on. I am sure it is just another animal. Let’s have a look.” William may have brushed the notion off, but that was just to calm his friend. He knew Gerald’s feeling to be true. He felt it, and it grew stronger with every step he took toward the stable. As he walked closer, he recognized the other individual to be Father Henry. He searched the stable at a furious pace, with a disturbed look on his face.
“Father.”
“William, I would stand back. Something is not right here.”
William didn’t heed the warning and kept walking forward.
“William,” Father Henry began, before he turned his head to look at him. His eyes delivered the message more than the words, “I am serious. I would stay back.”
William knew darn well he couldn’t do that. Not because he was stubborn, but because he already saw the problem. There was a single flickering spirit roaming between the stalls. It looked to be that of a young girl. Her face was empty and soulless, like they all were, but something about her demeanor told him she was lost, or had lost something. Something that held a strong connecti
on to her. He often wondered if the locations he saw them in had something to do with their past life. In this instance, maybe she gravitated to the stable because she had had a horse when she was alive. Of course, that never explained those he found just roaming around an open field, or trapped in a wall between two rooms. It was just a theory.
“Does your colt kick?” he asked, as he followed her toward a stall. He could see right away what spooked the animals. She was passing straight through them. The cold shiver he had felt in the past when that happened was enough to spook him.
“He rears up, but hasn’t ever kicked with his backs before,” said Gerald.
The word “before”, stuck in his head. It didn’t mean he never would, just hadn’t yet, and William didn’t really want to be around, or anywhere near him, when it happened for the first time. He kept his eyes on the beast as he reached over the wood door and undid the tie.
“William, wait!” exclaimed Father Henry.
“No time, Father. I am pretty good with animals. Just give me a second.” William crept open the door with slow movements, so as to not spook the animal any more than it already had been. She was over in the corner, but headed back toward the colt. He knew if he was going to stop this, he was going to have to test the statement Gerald had made about kicking. He reached out to touch the colt and give him some comfort, and also to make sure he knew he was there behind him.
The girl flickered in and out of existence as she walked toward the horse’s hind quarters. William positioned himself between them. This would either work, or he would find out if the horse kicked. The girl ran into him. The cold feeling caused his body to shiver, which ran up his arm and to the back side of the horse. It stayed calm, except for just a little jostle forward. The girl stopped and turned away from William. She flickered a few more times, and then disappeared through the wall of the stable. At that moment, the muscles in the beast behind him relaxed, and the various noises throughout the stable subsided.
William waited a few moments before he exited the stall. Father Henry and Gerald waited for him outside. They still held their lanterns, but instead of holding them up around their heads as they searched, each now let the lantern dangle at the end of their arm.
“What was that?” asked Gerald.
William shrugged his shoulders and scratched his head, “Don’t know. Whatever it was is gone. He just needed help settling down. They should be fine now.”
Father Henry stood there, mouth dropped open, as William walked by him and out into the stable.
He kept walking beyond the large barn door entrance to the stable, and out into the dense fog that hung above the open pasture that was between his farmhouse and Gerald’s. “You should be fine for the rest of the night. Night, Gerald. Night, Father.”
6
A light breeze blew across the meadow. Its strength was enough to move the coolness from the ocean inland as far as the farmlands, but that didn’t help William. Sweat still dripped from his brow and arms. It was possible his horse felt more relief from it, but he didn’t know. Both were out in the field, plowing up the remains of his turnip and potato crops. It was time for the late summer planting, and the soil needed to be turned and crops rotated. Where he had grown potatoes would now be turnips and snap bean vines. Where the turnips were, potatoes would be planted.
This was a three day job. William knew that. It always seemed longer each time they finished a row and turned to give him a full view of the untouched ground ahead of them. He didn’t complain, neither did the horse, it was what had to be done. Not that there was anyone for him to complain to, the closest person was acres away, doing the same on their property. There wasn’t anyone for the horse to complain to either, except William, but the five year old brown and white beast knew that wouldn’t do any good.
The pair turned onto their sixth row of the day and started on their seventh. Both were heads down with their task. The horse pulled, while William steered the blade. Grey and white hooded crows circled overhead. Their eyes kept watch over the freshly churned ground for the sign of any insects, worms, or nice juicy grubs that may have been disturbed and pulled to the top. The rattle of the chains and the creak of the wood plow frame buried the sounds of the caws from the birds. It also blocked out the attempt of a visitor to call out to William. The individual made several attempts while he walked across the pasture, but it was only when he and the horse turned to start the eighth row, that William saw him.
“William?”
“Whoa!”, William called out to the horse, though it wasn’t necessary. The pressure he applied to the yoke had already stopped it. He dropped the leather straps and walked to greet Father Henry as he approached.
“Father, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“It’s that time of year. Looks like you made a lot of progress today,” he said as he looked around. Father Henry was sans the normal cassock he wore in and around the church. On this day, he wore black cotton pants, a jacket with a shirt and white collar under it, and a wide brimmed black hat. His choice of footwear were the same mud-stained leather boots he always wore. It was a good thing too. The pasture he had stomped through was just barely drier than a bog, and would have no doubt ruined anything of quality.
“I have, but so much to go. Might need you to do one of those blessing of the crops you do for the Lyle’s.” William referred to a prayer that the priest had done at a farm over the hill three seasons ago. He had walked around and recited a prayer while he sprinkled holy water in each of the corners. Nobody knows for sure if it worked or not, but the bumper crop that season had made it a legend.
“Eh,” the priest waved his hand to the side, “that was just to quiet him. It was something I made up.”
William opened his mouth to point out the success they’d felt, but Father Henry held up his hand before he could begin. “Don’t say it. Nothing to do with it, my boy. Nothing to do with it. That was the first year he rotated and spread manure around. Lawlyer finally figured out how to farm. That is not why I am here.”
“Okay, Father, why are you here?”, asked William. He used the back of his hand to wipe his forehead. Sweat continued to pour due to the exertion. Little did he know, there was a smidge of dirt on the back of his hand, and it was now smeared above his eyes. Father Henry saw it, but was way too polite to say anything.
“Last night. I am here about last night,” Father Henry said. His voice wavered, and his eyes avoided contact with William’s.
“What about last night?”, William watched the priest shift his weight back and forth as he made every attempt to avoid eye contact with him. He gave off every appearance of a man that needed to talk about a topic he didn’t want to.
“How… Well, William…,” Father Henry started and stopped several times before he managed to get the question that was in his head into words. “That was some fine work last night. How did you do it?”
“I am not sure what you mean, Father. The colt was---,” Father Henry interrupted William with a wave of his hand.
“Don’t tell me you walked into the stall and calmed the colt down. Gerald may believe that, but I don’t. Now tell me, what did you see?”
Father Henry was digging for something, William knew that. The question that remained was, what? He had an idea, but as hard as it was for him to believe he could see ghosts, it was even harder to believe someone else would even think about it.
“Let me tell you what I saw. I saw you walk into that stall, with your eyes going from the horse to the back corner. Back and forth. Then you put a hand on the horse and that was all you did to him. There was nothing said to the animal. No stroking. No patting. I did see you shiver though. The horse did too. That is what I saw. Did I miss anything?”
Father Henry crossed his arms across his black coat and made firm eye contact for the first time. Now William was the one who shifted from side to side and avoided any eye contact. The way he was put on the spot made him uncomfortable, but that was nothing compared to
the realization he had reached. It rolled over and over in his head, and his stomach did flips and somersaults as each cycle stopped at the same place, each and every time.
“Father, why don’t we head up to the house and talk?”
Neither of the men said anything on the way to the house. Once inside, William motioned to his father’s chair at the table. Father Henry’s back stayed board straight as his upper body leaned forward and his knees lowered his tall thin frame onto the seat. William held up a glass and a pitcher, to offer some water. It was something he picked up from watching his mother as she welcomed neighbors and friends into their home. With a simple nod, Father Henry accepted, and William poured him a glass of water.
As Father Henry took a sip, William poured himself a glass as well, and gulped it down. His mouth was dry and caked with dust. Which couldn’t have been from the work he was doing. The pasture was moist. There wasn’t much dust kicked up by either his horse or the plow. Before Father Henry put his glass down on the table, William had already deposited his back in the sink, which he now leaned against, his arms crossed.
Father Henry’s glass hit the table and both men looked at one another in dead silence. The only sound William heard was the whooshing of the wind as it raced through one window and out another. It brought a coolness that settled deeper into the corners of the house, where the sunlight couldn’t reach. There was a slight shiver moving up William’s neck. It wasn’t a ghost this time. It was something that frightened him a great deal more. Questions.
“William, why don’t you tell me what you saw last night. Did you see her?”
William took a deep swallow to try to soothe his once again parched throat. It didn’t help much; his mouth was just as dry. “Her?”, he asked. His mind raced. Father Henry saw the girl. How did he?
“Yes, William. I am not a total sensitive, but I have enough in me to know there was a little girl roaming around Gerald’s animals. Now, did you feel her, or see her?”, Father Henry asked with a blank expression. His tone of voice was very matter of fact. No inflection or waver as he discussed a topic that was not one of normal conversation.
