by Tony Martin
“Tell you what,” said Christine, rising. “I’ll go get some drinks. You folks can sort of get acquainted. Meredith, I know what you want. Bethany?”
Bethany was examining the room. “Lemonade sounds good,” she said, looking at a portrait of a stern-looking white haired man with a plump wife in a lace collar. She knew she was gawking but was unable to stop. Christine slipped out, calling “be right back.”
Joshua always prided himself on his social skills and ability to converse easily. He found himself strangely mute; the topic that brought him here was one thing, but now he felt like an eighth-grade boy in the presence of the homecoming queen. This wasn’t like him at all, and he knew it. Meredith was just a kid, for crying out loud.
Bethany stopped sightseeing long enough to glance at Joshua, who didn’t seem to be making any progress toward speaking at all. “Meredith,” she said, “you have an amazing home. It’s just gorgeous.”
Meredith, thankful for the social ice to thaw, said, “Thank you, Bethany. I’ve lived here all my life and I guess I just take it all for granted. It’s a big ol’ drafty house, but it is pretty, isn’t it?”
With that, Bethany felt the freedom to make small talk with Meredith. Southerners have an innate knack for chatting about family, community, sports, or whatever, and had the ability to ask questions without prying. By the time Christine returned with three glasses of lemonade - with a slice of real lemon perched on the edge of each glass, nothing artificial here - Meredith and Bethany were talking like old friends. Joshua sat silently, listening to the conversation, looking for a discreet way to involve himself.
“Would you like to see the rest of our house?” Meredith said presently.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Joshua said, finally speaking. “I know you haven’t been feeling well. Maybe some other --”
“I’m fine,” Meredith said with a dismissive wave. “I’m not ready for the grave yet.” She stood, as did the other three. “C’mon. I haven’t had the chance to play guide in a while.”
With that, Meredith took her guests on a tour. In addition to the rooms they’d seen downstairs, there was also another more formal living room, a dining room roughly the size of the Nix’s house with a table that would easily seat twenty, a room Meredith called “the family breakfast room,” and two bedrooms. One was for Bernadine; the other was a guest room.
Meredith showed them the kitchen. Bethany ooohed and ahhhed. It had every gourmet appliance imaginable. There was another small staircase leading upstairs, and a dumbwaiter going to the second floor.
“Of course, when this home was built, the kitchen was in a separate building,” said Meredith. “And there wasn’t any indoor plumbing in those days, so all that’s been added over the years.” Joshua thought they’d done a seamless job. He couldn’t tell where the old ended and the new began.
Upstairs, Meredith showed them four additional bedrooms - all with baths - and two mirror image sitting rooms on either side of the house. Joshua noted one other small staircase leading up from the second floor landing. “That’s the attic, but it’s nasty,” Meredith told him. “And there’s a little staircase that leads to the widow’s walk, but I don’t go up there.”
Returning downstairs - and noting that Bethany was obviously enthralled - Meredith took them outside. She showed them the old stables and smokehouse, and the foundations of six tiny slave cabins. Rubble marked the location of chimneys.
Beyond the gazebo, Meredith took them to the family cemetery. She pointed out the tombstones of her forbearers. The most recent stones belonged to her grandparents, Laidlaw and Florene.
“I sort of thought about having Mamma and Daddy’s graves placed out here,” she said quietly, “but I just wasn’t comfortable having them here. They’d never bought burial plots. It just didn’t feel right to me, somehow.”
The group was quiet for a moment. Joshua looked at the family plot. It was encircled by an iron fence; two ancient cedars stood as sentries over the lichen-covered stones. As befitting the patriarch of the family, Eleazar had the biggest stone, easily eight feet high, and topped with a carved urn. Jacob, Eleazar’s grandson and Meredith’s great-great grandfather, was buried under an imposing Masonic tombstone. Joshua ran his fingers along the square and compass which was symbolic of their order. He noted one tombstone that chilled him: Elizabeth Anne Dubose Moore. Born August 17, 1841. Died May 22, 1859, aged eighteen years, nine months, and five days, who was translated from this life at the stillborn birth of her son, who rests here entombed in the embrace of his mother. O Death, where is thy victory? O Death, where is thy sting?
Joshua also gazed for a time at the more modest grave of Margaret Dubose; as he recalled, this was Jake Duboses’ sister who drowned tragically on Christmas day. Her stone had a little lamb atop the curved granite. Her stone bore her name, birthdate and date of death, and the simple inscription, Asleep in Jesus. Joshua thought for a moment about how far removed from death people of today were. Back in those days, death was a normal and accepted part of the life of the family. There was no lying in state at the funeral home. Caskets were opened in the parlor, and wakes were common. He wasn’t sure about embalming procedures of a century ago, but he guessed that it wasn’t anything like the sterile, waxed, and made-up viewings of today.
“I guess we’d better go in,” Meredith said, disturbing Joshua’s reverie. The sun had sunk behind the trees, and the sky was a mottled and patchy gold. There was just the hint of an early spring chill in the air.
The four went through the French doors back into the parlor. Bernadine had come by and cleared their lemonade glasses. Meredith sat back on the sofa, seeming winded. The others sat also.
Meredith looked at Joshua. “I guess you feel like you’ve got a nutcase on your hands,” she said ruefully.
“I don’t think so,” said Joshua. He smiled. “At least, not yet. I know Christine was the one that wanted us to get together. I’ve heard part of your story from her. I’d like to hear your version, or at least whatever part of it you’re comfortable sharing with me.”
Meredith took a deep breath. “Well, there’s a lot. But here’s my take on things.” With that, she began her story, starting with the incident with the Ouija board, the man in her bedroom (Christine, who’d not heard this part of the story, was saucer-eyed), and the voices in the hallway.
Joshua sat, trying not to let his mouth hang open, taking the story in. He glanced over at Bethany, who seemed impassive.
Meredith didn’t tell of seeing the woman by the gazebo. She finished her story, trying to gauge the reactions of her audience. There was a protracted silence. Finally, Joshua stirred uneasily in his chair.
“That’s quite a tale,” he said finally.
“It is indeed,” Meredith said with a tired smile. “I sure wouldn’t believe it if I heard it from someone else.” She took a deep breath, looking at each of the three in turn. “Do y’all believe me?”
There was another silence. Finally Christine spoke. “Meredith, I want to believe you. I really do. I know you were scared to death last time I spent the night with you. I sure didn’t know what you’d seen. That’s pretty hard to swallow.”
Meredith laughed bitterly. “That’s what I mean. It is all unbelievable. But I’m telling you exactly what I’ve seen and heard. I know it sounds crazy. I can’t help how it sounds. It’s all the truth.”
Joshua examined Meredith’s face carefully as she spoke. He couldn’t help but notice how ethereal she looked; she was flesh and blood, certainly, but her translucent quality fascinated him. She looked so frail; one wisp of blonde hair had escaped her ponytail and fell along the curve of her cheek. He looked for any sign of falsehood and saw none.
“OK,” said Joshua. “Meredith, I think you’re self-aware enough to know how this story sounds. You’ve got to admit that it strains at credibility.”
“I’m not making this up,” she said tersely.
“You know what?” asked Joshua. “I know you are
n’t. I’m convinced that you believe what you’re saying. So now, we’ve got to interpret what it is you’ve seen. There’s a couple of options.”
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Here’s one option. Everything you say you’ve seen and heard is real. You’ve heard actual voices. You really saw a man, or something that looked like a man, in your room.”
“Oooh,” said Christine. She shivered violently, and then giggled. Everyone smiled.
“We’ll come back to that one,” said Joshua. “Another option is the old psychological approach. It’s all in your head. Because of all the trauma and grief you’ve faced in the last few months, you’re actually imagining all this stuff. Because of your emotional state, fantasy has become reality for you.”
“Yeah. The wacko explanation,” said Meredith, rolling her eyes. “That’s the one I’m leaning toward myself. I love being a nutcase. It’s a good way to keep from facing reality. Yeah. Right.”
Joshua scratched the back of his neck. “If that one’s the case, then what we need to do is get you in some counseling. That is not an admission of weakness. It just means you need a little extra help getting through what has been an emotionally devastating time. Just acknowledging you need some help is actually a healthy first step.”
“I don’t think that’s the case,” said Bethany abruptly. She’d been silent for a while, and her blurted-out comment caught everyone by surprise.
“What do you think, Bethany?” asked Meredith, fixing her with an unflinching stare.
Bethany faltered, saying, “Well ... I don’t know, actually. I believe you believe what you’re saying. I sure couldn’t explain what’s been going on, assuming, of course, that all this is real.”
Joshua looked at Bethany, then back to Meredith. He weighed his words carefully. “That brings us back to the first possibility. Frankly, I feel compelled to go with the more plausible of the two explanations. Because if you’re actually experiencing real - manifestations, or whatever you want to call them, then that opens a whole different can of worms.”
“Could all this really be happening?” asked Christine. “I mean, you preached on spirits coming back from the dead ...” Her voice trailed off.
“The context of my sermon was pretty different from what we’re talking about here,” said Joshua. “The account of Saul and Samuel took place in a specific historical time and place, and God allowed that for a specific purpose. This -” he gestured vaguely around the room, “this is more of a traditional ghost story. It’s got more in common with a marshmallow roast than a scriptural account.”
“You think I’m crazy,” said Meredith helplessly.
“No, I don’t,” said Joshua. “I think you’ve been through more than any young lady should ever have to face. You’ve experienced a horrendous tragedy, and have handled it - at least on the outside - with all sorts of poise. It might be that now, finally, you’re subconsciously coming to grips with your loss. You yourself said that you used the Ouija board to try to contact your parents. When nothing happened during that experience, you began reaching out toward any possibility out there.” He looked in her eyes, which were swimming with tears. “With the voices you heard ... and the man you saw in your bedroom ... did you ever have any sense that you were in contact with your parents?”
“No,” she said, punching the word. “No. What I felt was something else entirely. It seemed sort of – of – wicked. It sure wasn’t natural.”
“So,” said Joshua, “if what you saw and heard actually occurred, what do you think it was?”
“If you want me to say I’ve been seeing and hearing ghosts, then I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” said Meredith. She made a face. “It does sound kind of stupid, doesn’t it?”
“Stupid’s not the word I would use,” said Joshua gently. “Unlikely, perhaps, but not stupid.”
Christine spoke up. “What do you think we should do?”
“Right now, nothing,” Joshua said. “I’ll make a phone call or two. I know of some fine Christian psychiatrists in Dothan.” He smiled at Meredith, who did not return his smile. “If you want me to, I’ll try to set up an initial meeting with one of these guys. It sure couldn’t hurt.”
“Maybe,” said Meredith. She sounded unconvinced. “Tell you what. Let me think about this for a day or so, and I’ll give you a call back. How would that be?”
“Fine,” said Joshua. “I just wouldn’t put it off too long. You don’t want to let your mind work on itself any more that it already has.”
“I’m not going to let things get so bad that I shut down,” said Meredith. “Ask Christine. I’m not typically this flaky.”
“Who’s that out on the veranda?” asked Bethany. She’d been looking over Meredith’s shoulder for some time, toward the French doors.
“I imagine it’s Bernadine,” said Meredith.
“OK,” said Bethany. “Whoever it was, she’s gone now.”
Meredith’s face suddenly clouded. “What did you see?” she asked, a sharp edge in her voice.
Bethany looked at Meredith, then at Joshua and Christine. “What?” she asked uneasily.
Meredith spoke slowly, as if the words were unknown to her. “What did you see?”
“I - well, there was someone just outside the French doors. She walked by, paused long enough to look in, and then just kept walking.” She smiled. “I guess your story has us all sort of jumpy.”
Joshua spread his hands helplessly. “Come on, ladies,” he said firmly. “Let’s don’t all get freaked out here.”
“I’m sure it was Bernadine,” said Bethany. “It’s pretty dark.”
Meredith rubbed her hand across her forehead. “I sure didn’t mean to upset any of you,” she said. She sounded exhausted. “Honestly, I don’t usually spend my time looking for the boogerman.”
“Of course not,” said Joshua, glaring at Bethany, whose silent look shouted “What?” He looked around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing on the veranda. “It’s going to be fine,” he said to Meredith.
“If you say so,” she said. She sank back on the sofa. “Folks, I don’t want to come across as being rude, but I sure have gotten tired all of a sudden.”
Bethany took the cue. She rose, as did Joshua and Christine. “We do need to be going,” she said.
“Thanks for the lemonade,” Joshua said, sounding foolish; he hadn’t had any.
“And the tour,” added Bethany.
“Happy to,” said Meredith. She stood, but seemed unsteady. Christine gave her a bear hug.
“Take care of yourself, sis,” said Christine.
“I will.”
Meredith took Bethany’s hand. “Thanks for coming out. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Bethany squeezed back. “The pleasure was mine,” she said.
“You too, Joshua,” said Meredith. She took his hand with both of hers.
“Please call us if you need us,” said Joshua. He was acutely aware of the warmth of her hands. He caught himself looking at the downy blonde hair at the edge of her temples. Get a grip, he told himself firmly.
Meredith released her grip, her fingers gently brushing the palm of his right hand. “Do you really think I’ll be all right?” she asked plaintively.
“Sure of it,” Joshua said.
Meredith sank back down on the sofa. “I’m sorry. I’m pooped. Christine, can you see everyone out?”
“Glad to,” Christine said. “Bye.”
“Bye, everyone,” said Meredith, her eyes straying toward the French doors.
Christine led Joshua and Bethany out to his car. After they’d piled in, Bethany made her one and only comment of the ride back. “That girl breaks my heart,” she said, and was silent until they arrived back home.
Joshua took Christine to her house before heading home. He sneaked a glance at Bethany occasionally; she was impassive. Later that evening, over a bowl of cereal, Joshua gently prodded her. “What did you make of all that?” he
asked her.
Bethany bit her lip, looking pensive. “I’m not sure what to think,” she said. “She sure doesn’t come across as anyone who’s mentally unstable.”
“I don’t think she’s mentally unstable, really,” said Joshua. “But I do believe she’s emotionally wrecked. I’m not sure about her health, either. She looked pale and tired.”
Bethany thought about this for a while. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?” she asked finally.
“Yeah, I suppose,” Joshua said, feeling a little twinge in the pit of his stomach.
Bethany threw back her head and laughed - hard. Joshua relaxed immediately. “You suppose?” she said heartily. “Josh, we’ve been married too long for me not to read you inside and out. She’s gorgeous. Don’t pretend like you didn’t notice. I know you better than that.”
“Caught me,” said Joshua. “You’re right, she’s nice looking. I think anyone would acknowledge that. But -” and he reached across the table and gave her hair a playful little tug “- you’re the only one for me. You know that. Besides, I know how you feel about Matthew McConaughey.”
Bethany bristled. “I’m way past that. What about you and Naomi Watts?”
“How about George Clooney?” Joshua countered.
“Jennifer Connelly?”
“You’ve made your point,” said Joshua. He looked closely at Bethany, and thought of what attracted her to him in the first place. Bethany had a full, riotous mass of curly dark brown hair and hazel eyes. When she smiled, her nose crinkled, which Joshua found unspeakably cute. “Meredith is pretty, and we’ve all got our secret crushes, don’t we.”
“Yep,” said Bethany, apparently satisfied with Joshua’s response.
They worked on their cereal in silence for a while. “Joshua?” Bethany said quietly after a minute.
“Huh?”
“That wasn’t Bernadine I saw on the veranda earlier.”
Joshua laid his spoon down, staring at Bethany. “What are you saying to me?”
