“For a moment I didn’t understand, and then, suddenly I remembered the motorcycle Jimmy had bought before he’d gone off to war and I realized what he must be planning. I was a little uneasy about the way he’d communicated the message to me, mind you. It wasn’t unusual for me and Jimmy to communicate telepathically, but I will admit it was the first time I’d ever actually seen his image.
“But I did as he asked, trusting the image as only the blind can trust their remaining senses. I went about the task of organizing the party and inviting all the guests, and I never told a living soul about my vision, not even my husband.
“The day of the party finally arrived, and what a crowd it was. All of Jimmy’s brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces were in attendance. Frank and Dotty Hyde were there as well, and old Mary Simms from over on Pleasant Street. Poor old dear, the rheumatism had made her spine rigid and she was bent forward so drastically she was forced to look straight down at her feet all the time. Had to be led along by her daughter, Stephy. I remember the sound of that old hickory cane she carried, tapping down on the sidewalk as she shuffled along. She was the nicest lady in the world and she wouldn’t have missed Jimmy’s coming home party if her life had depended on it.
“A lot of the kids Jimmy and I went to school with came as well. It was such a happy occasion. Jimmy was so well liked.
“Snow still lay in dirty little patches here and there around the dooryard even though it was nearing the end of April. The waters had subsided somewhat but the river still rushed by out back, brown and murky, carrying with it the remnants of an overly-healthy spring freshet.
“Like I told you before, that was the same spring Henry Ives slipped under the ice trying to get his smelt camp off. Poor Henry. It happened so quickly nobody even saw him go. One moment he was there, bigger than life and the next, he was gone, that old river swallowing him like the huge writhing snake that she is. She’s a hungry mistress you know. If you don’t treat her with the respect she deserves she’ll devour you quicker than you can say Androscoggin.
“So, there was a memorial service at the congregational church two weeks later, after Henry’s widow, Estelle finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t coming back. But I don’t think she ever really accepted it, if you want the truth. I remember months later, long after the last ice jam had melted and the high waters had receded, Estelle would stand down on that riverbank just staring. I’ll admit there were those who thought she had bees in her bonnet, but most folks understood what she was feeling, and they had empathy for her. Nobody knew how to help her though. Sure, there were a lot of kind, reassuring words, but there weren’t many psychiatrists back in those days.
“So, everybody was there that day, everybody except for poor Henry Ives of course. Estelle came, though, surprising the daylights out of all of us.
“Why, Estelle,” I said taking her wrap. “It’s so good to see you out and about.”
“‘Yes,’ she replied in this small, weak voice. ‘I wasn’t really feeling up to it. But when I woke up this morning Henry was standing at the foot of my bed, and he told me that I should come. He said it would be the neighborly thing to do. He told me that Jimmy would want it that way, that he was expecting everybody in the neighborhood to be here.’
“Estelle smiled this tight little smile and sort of stared off into space and I just nodded at her. We all knew what she’d been through in the past month and folks back then made allowances. But I wished I’d have understood then the meaning of that statement. I like to believe I could have done something to change the inevitable. But of course I couldn’t have. It was already too late. I didn’t understand. There was just too much magic in the air for me to believe anything in my cozy little world could go awry. So I wished Estelle a good party and went off to attend some of the other arriving guests, not giving what she’d said a second thought.
“Elmer Hall came wheeling up in that fancy new wheelchair he’d gotten at the hospital down in Boston, that big old gin blossom of a nose of his looking like an over-ripe strawberry. You see, ever since Elmer’s accident he had taken pretty heavily to drink, because he said it helped to relieve the pain. Every once in a while you’d see him pull a silver flask from beneath his coat and take a nip. Nobody could blame him, I suppose.
“Even though there was still a lot of mud and patches of melting snow around, it was the first real lovely day we’d had all spring. By twelve noon the temperature had climbed to a whopping sixty-five degrees and Earl and I had decided to take the party out into the back yard. It couldn’t have been more perfect for what Jimmy and I had planned. The two of us had that special secret, see. A secret that had been conveyed across the great distance of time and war by some sort of magic that for lack of a better term I will call a psychic bond. And besides that, Jimmy and I were the only two people in the world who knew that he had bought himself a motorcycle before going off to war.
“There was this huge cake. I’d made it the day before with help from Dotty Hyde. We’d written, ‘Welcome home, Jimmy, We Love You,’ on the top with dark green frosting. It was set up just as pretty as you please on the picnic table along side the punch bowl.
“Earl sat in his big overstuffed chair which a couple of the boys had lugged out back for him. His big masculine voice could be heard booming loudly over and above everybody else’s, telling those stories of his, his favorite pastime, and as usual he was surrounded by a group of enraptured listeners. I was flitting around here and there trying to be the good hostess. Everything was just perfect. The only thing missing was the guest of honor.
“It is here that I will try as best I can to convey the strange sense of unreality the entire congregation experienced on that sunny April afternoon. It began with a sound. At first it was a distant droning sound beneath the festive chatter of the guests. But it grew louder with each passing second until all voices had ceased and all ears were cocked in the direction of that sound. From the back yard of Earl’s house we could see up Elm Street for nearly half a mile until a radical twist in the road blocked all view. As the droning sound grew louder a tiny black speck became visible, and it was moving down the street toward us. Everybody had stopped in mid-stride and they were staring toward that sight and that sound, and for the next few seconds it was as if we were spectators to some great and magical phenomenon. Nobody at the party could imagine what they were seeing. Motorcycles were a relatively new thing in 1918, at least in Topsham, Maine they were. Most of those people were boat builders, farmers and lumbermen and didn’t get out to the big city very often. Such sights were as rare as hen’s teeth.
“Well, the machine disappeared for a few moments, behind some houses, but the sound grew louder still until it had become an angry roar. When it reappeared again it came around the corner of the house and was right there in our midst. You can imagine everybody’s shock and surprise as they stared in awe at this big and roaring two-wheeled machine that looked like an oversize bicycle with a grudge. And sitting atop her was this fellow wearing Buck Rogers goggles and one of those brown leather caps the old bi-plane pilots used to wear, with the little ear flappers blowing out in the breeze behind him. At first everybody just stood speechless, mouths wide open in shock. It was like a picture frozen in time. And you know, for a few fleeting moments it seemed that time did stop. The moment stretched out into infinity. I can still see the whole congregation in my mind, standing stark still, just like one of those moving pictures on still frame. And then suddenly everything began to move again. That’s when everybody simultaneously recognized the fellow that was piloting that strange contraption, and they all began hollering at once, ‘It’s Jimmy! It’s Jimmy! God have mercy, it’s Jimmy. Jimmy’s home.’ I was so proud I thought my heart would burst. And you know, as years pass and I recall that instant in time I truly believe that it was one of the grandest moments of my life.
“I remember Elmer Hall bellowing out from his wheelchair, ‘Lord in Heaven have mercy,’ waiving that fla
sk in the air, drunker’n a sow in the apple squeezings. And Estelle Ives standing out there fanning herself furiously with her hand, acting like it was a hundred degrees in the shade rather than only sixty-five in the sun, looking like she might faint any second. And old Mary Simms screaming, ‘What is it? What is it?’ Because of course the poor dear couldn’t look up and see like the rest of us. It was that darned rheumatism that prevented old Mary Simms from witnessing the same supernatural phenomenon everybody else at the party saw that day.”
“This is what happened. Jimmy just drove slowly past everyone, drifting like he was on a cloud, heading for the barn, just like we’d planned in our psychic moment more than a month before. He lifted his right hand up off the handle bar and waved, and you could see his mouth turn up into a big confident grin. That’s when the entire crowd erupted into cheers and applause.
“But as Jimmy passed by me the smile went from his face just as if somebody had passed over it with a chalk eraser, and I could see that there was an awful sad look in his eyes. I can still see it now, behind those goggles, and it makes me weak in the knees and all misty every time I think about it. Then he began to move his head back and forth slowly, as if he was trying to relay some kind of private message to me alone. I tried to decipher it, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to convey with that simple, sad gesture. But something about it made me feel all queasy inside.
“I stood frozen like a stone statue in my yellow spring dress and bonnet, watching that motorcycle pass me by, and as it went, some part of me went with it. I swear it did. Something that I’ve never been able to get back.
“Well, the next thing you know, that big old Harley Davidson machine was charging up the barn ramp like an angry bull, its rear wheel spinning on those slick boards I’d put there per order of Jimmy’s vision. Then it was gone, disappearing into the darkness beyond. All noise suddenly ceased. I swear you could have heard a pin drop. Everybody waited. All eyes were trained toward the opening in the barn waiting for Jimmy to appear, so they could all cheer and applaud the hero of Elm Street. Finally Earl hollers out in that big, booming voice of his, ‘What in tarnation is that boy up to? Jimmy, get out here so everybody can welcome home the war hero.’
“I began to feel this terrible dread creep into my belly then. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly what it was. From the moment Jimmy had pulled into the yard on that big motorcycle machine I’d felt that something was off center. It’s hard to explain properly being the uneducated person that I am, but I think it was that telepathy between me and Jimmy, but now it was like a radio signal that wasn’t quite on the station.
“I was trying to decide what my next move should be, when suddenly this authoritative voice spoke up and said, ‘Is this the home of Mr. Earl Coombs?’
“Everybody’s head snapped around at the same time as if they were all set on rubber necks, and who should be standing there but three men in military uniforms.
“‘Who’s asking?’ Earl said in that big, masculine voice of his.
“‘Colonel Saunders, United States Army,’ the man answered. ‘These two are my assistants, Lieutenant Judd and Sergeant Tillbrook. Are you Earl Coombs?’
“‘That’s right,’ Earl said and his eyes drew down on the colonel, and I could hear the apprehension creep into his voice. My own heart began to flutter like it might leap out of my chest any moment.
“‘I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you Mr. Coombs,’ the colonel said. ‘Could we talk in private?’
“‘Anything you’ve got to say you can say right here in front of these folks,’ Earl said, his chin thrust forward in defiance. ‘They’re all my people.’
“‘All right,’ the colonel replied and looked around a little uncomfortably at all the staring faces. ‘It’s about your son, Lieutenant James Coombs.’
“‘Lord in heaven,’ Earl said, getting up out of his chair now and facing the colonel. ‘What’s that boy done?’
“The colonel took off his hat and was twisting it nervously in his hands. ‘He hasn’t done anything sir. You see . . . I’m afraid he’s dead.’
“Earl’s mouth began to work but there were no words coming out of it. His eyes had begun to swirl back and forth in their sockets like the eyes of a scared plow-horse. His head snapped toward the barn entrance and then back to the colonel. You could see he was confused. Everybody was confused. There was absolute silence around that yard, everybody’s mouths standing wide open.
“Again the colonel glanced around the yard at all the staring faces. “You see, sir, there was a final push against the Germans,’ the colonel said. ‘Somewhere near the River Somme. Your son was wounded in action, and later, while in the hospital he was stricken with pneumonia.’
“‘I know that,” Earl said irritably. ‘We got the letter.’
“The colonel nodded. ‘He was scheduled to be sent home but they were short of men and in the last minute he volunteered to go back behind enemy lines. He had friends there that he thought he could help protect. His commanding officer was reluctant at first, but considering the shortage of men, he decided at the last minute to honor the young man’s brave request. And, as it turned out, he . . . he . . . didn’t make it out, sir. Your son died a brave man.’ The colonel lowered his eyes to the ground, almost in embarrassment. He held a paper out to Earl who just stood there looking at it. ‘This here is a recommendation from Lieutenant James Coombs’ commanding officer,’ the colonel said. ‘Your son is going to be given the Congressional Medal of Honor. You should be very proud.’
“Earl just stood there with his mouth working in that awful way, unable to find words. As for me, I didn’t hear anything else that was said. I began to feel this hysterical little laugh starting to build up inside me and make its way toward the surface, because I knew that Jimmy couldn’t be dead. He was in the barn, for lord’s sake. We’d all seen him go. But at the same time all I could think about was those sad eyes and that smile being wiped from his face by an invisible hand. And you know, that laugh never did make it to the surface. Instead I lost control of my composure and bolted for the barn, and all those rubbernecks snapped right back around and followed me. And when I got inside and finally saw the truth I went down on my knees, my closed fists pressed against my mouth, trying to stifle the sobs. Earl came silently into the barn behind me and stood with his trembling hands resting gently on my shoulders as I sobbed. That poor, wonderful man. He had lost a son and he was the one comforting me.
“Jimmy was gone, and there was no way to ever get him back. He’d died on the very night I’d seen his vision at the foot of my bed.
“I heard Estelle Ives begin to bawl like a baby outside the barn, and all of a sudden the dream she’d told me about came back to me. And I began to understand what it meant. Henry, Estelle’s dead husband must have somehow known about Jimmy. Perhaps there’s some sort of place where the departed get together and talk about these things. I don’t know, but somehow he’d known that Jimmy had passed on, and that he would be making a final appearance at his own coming home party.
“Jimmy was a very loving, caring man, and he was magic, and I believe the reason we saw him that day is because he did not want to deny those guests their do. The party was being thrown in his honor and it wouldn’t have been proper if Jimmy hadn’t made an appearance.
“Well, as you can very well imagine the party was over, but for several hours afterward, some of the children searched every corner of that old barn looking for Jimmy and that great big Harley Davidson Motorcycle of his. Nobody could quite believe that what they’d seen had been a ghost. But of course, that’s exactly what it had been, larger than life.
“I told you that some of the folks thought Estelle was a little bit nutty because she would stand down on that river-bank waiting for Henry to come back. Well, now she had company, because presently I took to doing the same thing. We’d stand there together not saying a word and just gaze out across
that sullen water. We were participants in each other’s pain and healing, I suppose. They say it’s better when grief has company. And you know something? There wasn’t a soul around who ever chided us for it. And there’s a very good reason for that. You see, most everybody in the neighborhood had seen the ghost of Jimmy Coombs on that day.”
Frannie looked up from her knitting with an uncertain little smile on her face, as if to say, that was a cute story, Ma, but now let’s set the record straight and tell everybody you made it all up.
“Wow,” Eddie said. “That was neat, Gram.”
“Yes,” Gram said. “It was, but it’s not the end of the story.”
“Oh, lord,” Frannie moaned. “Ma, you are going to cause these kids nightmares, I tell you. I swear, you’ll be the one getting up and comforting them, not me.”
Luella held up her hands in mock defense. “Just another minute, Fran. I promise. I just want to set the record straight about something.”
Frannie shook her head and sighed in resignation.
“Just because Jimmy had gone from this world didn’t mean that he had gone from our lives, and it didn’t mean that the psychic bond we had between us had vanished. Far from it. For years after that day I kept the barn door open and the ramp in place. I’ll tell you why. Earl never questioned me on this either. He’d lost his favorite son and I’d lost the best friend I ever had. I suppose there was a little bit of wishful thinking inside both of us. But that wasn’t the real reason. The real reason was because I began hearing that droning sound. That’s right. At first it happened only late at night while I was lying in bed beside my husband unable to sleep. I discovered if I listened very carefully I could hear the sound of a motorcycle coming down Elm Street, and somehow I knew instinctively that it was Jimmy. I began getting up and going to Jimmy’s room after that, and waiting. One night the motorcycle left Elm Street and pulled around back where it drove up into the barn and disappeared. I was flabbergasted. The next morning I went down and searched but found no evidence of it. Well, I thought I was taking leave of my senses when it happened again a week or so later. And then it began happening with more and more frequency.
Servants of Darkness (Thirteen Creepy Tales) Page 23
