She took her shower, put on a pair of jeans and a sweater, and went down to eat her late dinner. She found the leftovers neatly wrapped and placed in the refrigerator. As she ate, she kept expecting them to return from Pa’s secret room. It was nearly nine-thirty, and they never stayed there this late. When she had finished eating and put everything away and they still hadn’t returned, her curiosity was whetted. She decided to go out and see if they were in the old room.
She got a flashlight out of the hall closet and put on a jacket. She changed from her flat shoes to a pair of shoe boots and got the umbrella that was hanging beside the front door. There was still a light drizzle and she imagined the grounds were soaked and soft.
When she opened the door, she couldn’t believe how solid and deep the darkness was. The porch light hadn’t been turned on, so the blackness seemed to press itself against the front door. Even when she put on the light, it did little to push back the night. It was as if this darkness was heavier, firmer.
Suddenly she heard Dinky and saw him come crawling out from under the porch. He was whimpering as though he had been chastised.
“What is it, Dinky? What is it? Who chased you under there, poor thing. Come on, take a walk with me.” She turned on the flashlight. The beam slit the darkness like a knife, but when she went forward and then looked back, it was as though the night closed in around her. She was enveloped and absorbed into it. The cold rain fell from bruised, low clouds. The world had shrunk around her. She could make out only the vague silhouettes of the trees in the distance, and those shapes looked distorted, nightmarishly twisted into arthritic hands and fingers pressed against the inky, walls of a world gone mad.
She paused and shuddered. Should she go forward? Dinky hovered close beside her, and she wondered if the animal was as frightened as she was. When she looked back at the house, even retreat seemed ominous. The weakened porch light was losing the battle against the shadows.
“Maybe we should just go back, huh Dinky,” she said, but then she thought she was already out here. It wasn’t that much further, and she was eager for company, even if it meant joining them in that dreadful place. She walked on, the dog right behind her.
When she got there, she saw that the plank door was closed, but she didn’t turn around to go back. She called for Alex. The only sounds were the tinlike tinkle of the drizzle against the roof and walls of the Manor, and the whistle of the breeze as it worked its way through the loose siding and under the eaves of the roof. Reluctantly, she went to the plank door and put her ear against it.
The silence amplified the echoes of terror within the caverns of her own mind. She reached for the handle and pulled it open. Almost immediately, Dinky charged in, barking with excitement. That confirmed her belief that they were all in there sitting in the pitch darkness, refusing to answer.
She went down the small steps and entered the room proper. Her hands were so sweaty, the flashlight nearly slipped from her. She ran the light along the old fieldstone walls. Dinky was whimpering again, only this time, he was terribly interested in something under the dirt floor. She concentrated the light on him.
“Dinky, what is it? What is it?” She stepped further in and watched the animal scratch away the earth. When he broke through the harder surface, he began throwing dirt behind him rapidly. She drew closer and directed the light right on the spot in which the dog dug. Suddenly, she saw something white. “Wait, Dinky,” she said. She knelt down, nudging the dog aside. Keeping the light on the spot, she pulled away some of the dirt herself. After a few moments, she stopped, refusing to believe what her eyes were reporting.
Although she had kept the knowledge as suppressed as she could, she knew that Alex had put his father’s corpse in this ground. Seeing the bone should have simply confirmed it, as horrible as it was to face such a reality. But there was something different about this; this wasn’t what she expected. Slowly she cleared away more of the dirt.
Small, skeleton fingers became clearly visible. For a moment she lost her breath.
“My God,” she muttered. Her hand went to her throat as she stared down. Frantically she cleared away more dirt until she could see the small skull cradled against the old man’s skeleton arm. Her flashlight illuminated the bones, making them seem phosphorescent. The hollow eyesockets gaped up at her and the jaw seemed to move.
She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t unfold. Dinky began sniffing around the bones, digging at them again.
“NO!” she screamed and swung her flashlight at the dog to get him back.
She stood up, unable to take her eyes off the tiny corpse. Suddenly in her dazed horror, she thought the small skull began to lift itself from the large bones of Alex’s father. She reeled backwards.
Screaming, she lost her grip on the flashlight and fell. Dinky began barking madly. The flashlight rolled off to her right, but the dissipated illumination flickered gruesomely on the exposed skeleton bones.
She screamed again and again, the echo of her voice reverberating with such intensity it was as though every spirit in the room were mimicking her. She got to her hands and knees and crawled toward the small stairway and the plank door. When she reached it, she clawed at the steps until somehow she managed to stand up and run stumbling out of the secret room.
She fell twice, each time crawling a few feet further before she rose to her feet again. All that pursued her was always inches from seizing her. Everything about her took on new, ominous meaning. She flared out at a bush she crashed into; she fled from a tree; even an old lawn chair looked like some night creature lying and waiting for her to come a little closer.
The porch light looked dimmer; the house looked miles away, telescoped back through time and space like a hope, dwindling. The harder she ran, the further it seemed to be. Were her legs moving—or was she so hysterical she was immobile but imagining movement? The possibility terrified her.
Her steps became more ponderous. Her feet weighed as much as her whole body. Every inch was won with a maximum effort until, finally, she reached the porch steps. She collapsed over them to get her breath and looked up at the front door of the house. The night had closed in again behind her, only now she felt she had broken free of it. She caught her breath and stood up, taking hold of the railing to steady herself. Then she made her way to the front door and entered the house. Only when she closed the door behind her did she feel any sense of security.
Even so, when she closed her eyes, she shuddered at the image that came rushing back to her of that small skull and those small hands. Those eyesockets—even without eyes—had held such a look of accusation; as though she were somehow responsible. She brought her hands to her face in an attempt to wipe away the memory. Then she opened her eyes again.
When she turned and looked at herself in the hallway mirror, she was shocked by the sight. Her hair was wild; it looked like she had been running her hands through it for hours. Her face was smudged with dark earth and her sweater was filled with pieces of leaves, blades of grass, and small twigs. Her fingers and hands were blackened from the dirt and grime. Her face was still quite flushed and she had a small scratch just above her right eye. She had no recollection of how that had happened. For a few moments she was hypnotized by the image reflected in the mirror. Then the sounds of laughter caught her attention. They were coming from the living room.
She walked to it slowly and stood in the doorway. Alex and the children were seated on the floor in front of the television set. He had bought them some sort of video game and they were all involved with it. The television set crackled and popped with the sounds of the little shapes that exploded all over the screen. Carl and Donald were manipulating the “joy sticks,” and Richard and Elizabeth sat beside them giving directions. Alex was to the right, his legs folded in yoga fashion, his back straight.
“Where…were you?” she asked, and everyone turned her way. For a long moment, no one spoke.
“What the hell happened to you?” Alex asked. There
was a quizzical smile on his face. He looked at the children and then back at Sharon. “We wondered where you went.”
“I woke up and you weren’t here. I went out…looking for you,” she said. “I went…to Pa’s…” She couldn’t say it. The words choked up in her throat. She brought her hands to her cheeks. Alex stood up slowly.
“Go on,” he said to the children. They turned back to the video game. “Sharon, you’re very distraught,” he said, approaching her. “You’d better go upstairs.”
“I saw…it,” she said. “The dog, he began to dig.” Her eyes were wide. Alex looked back at the children and then moved her out of the doorway.
“You’d better go up and get cleaned up. I think a hot bath and…”
“Alex, what did you do?”
“This is no time to talk. You’re not yourself. Do what I say. You’ll feel better.”
“Alex.”
“Go on,” he said. He took her by the arm and directed her to the stairs. “You got yourself drunk and you had to sleep it off, and now you’ve been wandering in the darkness.”
“No Alex, I wasn’t wandering. I went to look for you. Dinky was with me and when I opened the door of that horrible room, he went right to the spot.” She paused, her eyes blinking rapidly. “Oh my God, Dinky.”
“What about him?”
“I think I left him in there. Alex, the dog, the bones…”
“All right,” he said. “All right. You’re hysterical. You’re only going to upset the children. Go on up and start running your bath. I’ll go look for Dinky. Go on. Everything will seem better in the morning.”
“No it won’t, Alex. You’re doing strange things with the children.”
“Don’t say such a thing, Sharon,” he said, his eyes small. His grip on her arm tightened, but before she could say anything else, they heard Dinky barking just outside the front door. “See, your dog is all right.”
“Let him in, Alex.”
He went to the front door and let the dog enter. Dinky ran down the corridor and into the living room to be with the children.
“See, there’s nothing wrong with your dog. And there’s nothing wrong with the children. I’m doing only good things. Look how happy they all are.”
“Alex,” she said weakly. He practically lifted her to the steps and forced her up the stairway.
“Come on, I’ll help you,” he said. He directed her to the bedroom. “Get those dirty clothes off,” he commanded, and went into the bathroom to run her water. She wanted to rebel, but she didn’t know what to do and she did long for a hot bath. She took off her clothes slowly. By the time she had gathered her robe and a towel, he called to her to say the bath was ready. “Come on,” he said standing in the doorway, “I’ll wash your back. I haven’t done that in a long time and I know how much you enjoy it.”
“Oh Alex, I saw…”
“Don’t,” he said. “Come on,” he repeated. He guided her to the tub. After she was submerged under the soft, sweet-scented water, Alex began to caress her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes. “You’re much too tense,” he said. “You’ve got to relax. Think of only good things.”
“Alex…” She spoke with her eyes closed.
“I’ve helped the children. I’m doing only good things,” he repeated, his voice softer.
“You put Pa in the room,” she said. “Oh, Alex.”
“He belongs there.”
“But the baby, Alex. I never knew what you did. How could you do that?”
“He belonged there, too. I couldn’t stand to think of him, unnamed, buried in a cemetery filled with stained souls. He was pure, untouched, a thing of beauty. The cemetery is contaminated with sinners. He belonged with Pa.”
“Oh, Alex…”
“I’m right. You know, I’m right. Forget about it now. Trust me.”
“But why…”
“Forget,” he said sharply. He lowered his hands to the water and then, standing behind her, embraced her under her breasts. He lifted her up from the water and leaned over to kiss the back of her neck. “Be soft, be still, be warm, be my precious Sharon.” His fingers moved up over her breasts. He hadn’t touched her for so long, she welcomed it. She couldn’t help losing herself in his embrace.
He took up the wash cloth again and softly scrubbed her back. Then he knelt beside the side of the tub and washed down her breasts. As he moved down her body, she closed her eyes and moaned. She couldn’t resist the erotic baptism.
Afterward, he helped her out of the tub and wiped her down. Then he put her robe on her and kissed her softly on the cheek. There was a warm glow about her now; she let herself be calmed and controlled. He took her to the bed. After she got in under the covers, he got her a glass of water and a sedative. She took it willingly and lowered her head to the pillow. He stood beside her for a while, holding her hand and looking down at her.
“Alex…” she muttered.
“Shh, be still. Be content; be calm. Rest and forget.”
“But Alex…”
“I’m doing only good things with them. Believe me. You want to believe me?”
“I do, Alex. I do.”
“Good.” He knelt down beside her and put her hand comfortably on the bed. Then he stroked her hair until she closed her eyes again. After a few more minutes, she was breathing softly in a deep sleep. He stood up, studied her a moment, and then went into the bathroom to let out the water and clean up. When he was finished, he went back downstairs to the children.
“It’s late, everybody,” he said, “and tomorrow’s a big day.”
“How’s Sharon?” Richard asked.
“She’s comfortable now. She’s asleep.”
“What happened to her?” Elizabeth asked.
“She got a little confused and went wandering out in the night. She imagined things and those things frightened her.”
“Like a bad dream, huh Alex?” little Donald said.
“Yes, exactly like that. But remember what I told you about dreams. Sometimes they don’t come from you; they come from the evil about you and you mustn’t be afraid of them. You must be stronger than they are; you must show them you can’t be defeated.”
“Sharon isn’t so strong, is she, Alex?” Carl asked.
“That’s why we’ve got to protect her. She must never know the things we know. She wouldn’t understand.”
“Will she be different in the morning?” Elizabeth asked. She looked very concerned. Alex smiled at her.
“Of course, she will. Just like we all will,” he added. Richard and Carl began to put away the game. “Remember, I don’t want anyone using that until all homework is done first.”
“We won’t,” little Donald said. “Oh,” he said, “we forgot to vote on the bookbag versus the backpack.”
“That’s right,” Alex said. “Everyone give it some thought? OK, how many want the bookbag?” Richard was the only one to raise his hand. “Looks like the majority is for the backpack.”
“I don’t care either way,” Elizabeth said.
“It’s still two to one for the backpack,” Carl said.
“Right. Backpack it is. OK, everyone upstairs.”
“Goodnight, Alex,” little Donald said. He smiled up at him and then shot off toward the stairs. Alex laughed.
“Night, Alex,” Carl said. “Richard and I have a workout scheduled right after school tomorrow. A good two hours’ worth.”
“Very good. Night, Carl.”
“I’ll build him up, Alex,” Richard said.
“I know you will.” They stared at each other for a moment and then Richard followed Carl out. Only Elizabeth remained.
“I can’t help being a little frightened, Alex.”
“Of course. It’s only natural.”
“Do you get afraid, too?”
“Sometimes, but I think about some of the things Pa said and some of the good things I know and I lose the fear. You’ll be like that too soon. Don’t worry.”
“I won�
�t. As long as I’m here with you.”
“You’ll always be here with me, for as long as you want to be.”
“I’m glad,” she said. She started away.
“Wait,” he said. He slipped off his pinky ring. It was a flat, black onyx encased in silver. “I want you to have this. It was Pa’s.” She took it into her fingers slowly. “You can wear it on a chain around your neck, if you want.”
“Oh Alex, thank you. I will. That’s where I’ll wear it. It’ll be like you’re always with me.”
“And I always will be, Liz,” he said. She smiled back at him, her eyes filled with excitement. Then she turned and ran up the stairs.
When he looked at himself in the hallway mirror, he thought he saw the candle from Pa’s sanctuary burning in both his eyes.
9
Despite her long, undisturbed sleep, Sharon felt drained when she got out of bed in the morning. She was awoken by the sounds of the children rushing about to get ready for school. Alex had already gotten up and gone downstairs. She had overslept, but her head felt heavy. She imagined she had a hangover from all the wine she had drunk, the excitement, and the sedative. For a few moments she sat at the edge of the bed, thinking. Had it all really happened? Had she really gone to Pa’s old room and seen…
When she got up and went to the bathroom, the questions were answered for her. The scratch above her eye had scabbed and was still there. She looked pale and drawn. She looked at the bathtub for a moment and recalled Alex’s erotic attention. That memory was delicious. If only that was all there was to remember from the night before. But it wasn’t. There were terrible things to deal with, nightmares that lingered.
The children sounded livelier than ever. By the time she dressed and brushed her hair, they were all heading downstairs for breakfast. She hurried to catch up with them. Alex had made the coffee and gotten out the juice and cereals. Donald and Carl were horseplaying about the table, and Elizabeth and Richard were having an argument about who had made more money as a singer this year, Michael Jackson or Prince.
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