by Tony Martin
“I’m saying that the person I saw through the French doors wasn’t Bernadine. Whoever it was had on a long, dark-colored dress. I couldn’t make out her face, but it definitely wasn’t Bernadine.”
“How am I supposed to respond to this?” asked Joshua.
“You can respond however you want to,” said Bethany, her eyes narrowing. “I know what I saw.”
“I hope whatever Meredith has isn’t catching,” said Joshua. He grinned wickedly.
“It’s not funny,” said Bethany. “You know, this is kind of a role reversal. You’re the one who is into all the supernatural stuff. I’m supposed to be the skeptic.”
“Sort of like Scully and Mulder on The X-Files?”
“Something like that. Joshua, what if Meredith isn’t imagining all she’s seen and heard? How does that fit into your theology?”
“It doesn’t,” said Joshua with some finality. “I want to eliminate that as a possibility. What we have here is a deeply distraught young lady, barely out of her teens. People respond to grief in all sorts of ways. We’ll get her some help. In the meantime - well, I’m not discounting what you say you saw. I think we were all a little more than naturally suggestible while at the Dubose mansion.”
“OK, fine,” said Bethany. “It was Bernadine I saw, or some trick of light and shadow. You’re right. That’s easier to believe.”
Joshua rinsed out their cereal bowls in the sink. They went to the den and snuggled on the sofa for a few moments before Joshua turned on the TV. Soon their visit to the Dubose mansion drifted from their minds, and both Joshua and Bethany slept soundly after going to bed.
Meredith watched Joshua, Bethany, and Christine leave. She lay on the sofa, wondering who or what Bethany had seen. She looked toward the veranda, uneasy and apprehensive. There was nothing there.
Meredith had also felt a peculiar lightness in her chest. While she was visiting with her guests, she experienced a fluttering sensation accompanied by a touch of vertigo. These were symptoms of her heart condition, and while not life-threatening were still disconcerting. She was able to mask these sensations from others, but now that she was alone she breathed deeply and rhythmically until the symptoms passed.
Presently Bernadine came into the parlor. “How do you feel, baby?” she asked.
“Just kinda tired,” Meredith answered truthfully.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No. Thanks.” Meredith smiled. “You sure are sweet to me.”
Bernadine returned her smile. “Heavens, baby. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I think I’ll go on to bed.” With that, she turned to go.
“Bernadine, wait,” said Meredith. “Were you out on the veranda any this evening while my company was here?”
Bernadine thought. “No,” she said after a moment. “I’ve been in the house the whole time. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” said Meredith guardedly. “Mrs. Nix thought she saw someone on the veranda while we were visiting.”
Bernadine swallowed hard. “Meredith, I wasn’t going say anything about this to you, but I guess I need to. I haven’t seen anyone around here, but a couple of times here lately I’ve thought I’ve heard people talking in the night. It wasn’t a radio or the TV. It’s sounded like folks in the hall or somewhere.”
Meredith tried not to let her face betray her feelings. “Lord, Bernadine, I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve been hearing voices, too. I thought I was losing my mind.”
Bernadine looked down and said, “Meredith, I’ve been working for your family for a long time. I was here when they brought you home from the hospital. I’ve never been scared to stay out here. I’m not scared now. But something’s just not quite right these days. That’s why I’m so glad you’ve talked to the preacher. He can help.”
“I hope so,” said Meredith, “but he wants me to talk to a psychiatrist or something.”
“I suppose that’ll be OK,” said Bernadine. “What I want him to do is to be praying for us. Old Nick is a sly one, and he’s a liar. He wants us to be scared.”
“Who?”
“Old Nick. The devil, my dear. The Book says he’s like a roaring lion, looking for folks to devour. He wants us to hurt.”
“Bernadine,” said Meredith, “you think the devil’s at work here in our house?”
“My stars, Meredith,” Bernadine said solemnly. “He’s at work everywhere. You think we’re any better than anyone else?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever thought that much about it,” Meredith said.
“Don’t fret, dear,” Bernadine said. “The good Lord knows our needs. He’ll look after us. He always has.”
Meredith rubbed her face with both hands. “I don’t think I’ve thought very much about Him, either.”
Bernadine smiled again. “Well, He thinks about you all the time. He’ll see us through.” She kissed Meredith on the forehead before heading for her room.
Meredith lay on the sofa for a while longer, thinking about her visitors and Bethany Nix’s “sighting.” She also thought about Bernadine’s admission that she, too, had been hearing voices. So, she thought, what am I to do? What does all this mean?
Meredith remembered Joshua’s words: “… if you’re actually experiencing real manifestations … that opens a whole different can of worms.”
“I guess it’s time to go fishing, then,” Meredith said to herself.
The grandfather clock in the great hall struck nine. Meredith, deciding that it was still too early to go to bed, stood unsteadily, pulling the afghan around her shoulders. She went to the kitchen, poured herself a big glass of milk, and made some peanut butter and Ritz crackers.
Meredith returned to the parlor and set her snack on an end table by the sofa. Against one wall of the parlor was a cherry armoire, which cleverly concealed a home entertainment center. Her father had installed a large television with a surround sound receiver and unobtrusive Bose speakers. Meredith had started a collection of DVD’s, and after a quick scan of what the satellite dish was bringing in – basically, nothing – she cued up Field of Dreams, one of her favorite movies.
Meredith hadn’t watched this particular film in a while, and for the first time she recognized it for being a benign ghost story, full of gentle overtones and sharply observed characterizations. There was, in Kevin Costner’s performance, a wistful longing for an unrealized past with his father. As tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, and as Costner’s character had the opportunity to play catch with his long-departed father, she realized that this probably wasn’t a good choice for viewing in her fragile emotional state.
“If you build it, he will come,” she murmured.
Meredith always had a sweet relationship with both her parents. She had managed to avoid any overt rebellion that typically came with late adolescence. She had been a well-mannered, poised young lady throughout high school. At the University, she had plenty of opportunities to push the boundaries. As Bernadine put it, “Don’t you go off to that school and live your life on the far side of the King James Version.” Meredith had started her freshman year off by partying a little, and had pledged Alpha Gamma Delta, but the wilder side of collegiate life held little appeal for her. She had gotten immediate and obvious attention from plenty of men, but other than the occasional casual date, she hadn’t encouraged more involved relationships.
“If you build it, he will come … go the distance … heal his pain.” Meredith listened to James Horner’s yearning score as the credits rolled, and she found herself sobbing into one corner of her afghan.
“Crybaby,” she said to herself, trying to regain her composure. She smiled at her own foolishness.
And she was barely aware, as the credits continued to roll, of the lightest of feathery touches at the base of her neck, right below where her hair was gathered in a ponytail. It might’ve been a moth, the touch was so gentle.
Then she opened her eyes. The touch was gone. In the same moment, she realized that she was alone
in the room, and what had been a benign, gentle touch mutated into a chill. Slowly Meredith turned around, looking over her shoulder, and saw an expanse of empty room.
Meredith was instantly afraid. She stared around wildly. Nothing. No one. Then, swallowing her fear, she recognized how gentle and tender the touch had been. There was no malice there.
She sat very still on the sofa. Then, gathering the afghan close once again, she rose and made her way slowly up the stairs to her bedroom. Even though she wasn’t afraid, at least in the sense that something was going to “get her,” she couldn’t escape the chill that started in the small of her back and spiraled up her neck.
Putting on her pajamas, Meredith crawled into bed. She looked around for her Bible, and then remembered that at some point the night before it had vanished. She pulled the covers up under her chin.
As best as she could, she recited the twenty-third Psalm before turning off her lamp. In the darkness of her room, she dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep, and rested better than she had in several days.
Chapter Five - Analysis
Bethany Nix lay very still, listening to her husband’s slow, rhythmic breathing. She rose up on one elbow; the red numerals on the clock read 2:17. She had dozed off just as they had turned in for the evening, but had now been awake for over an hour.
Bethany married Joshua “for better or worse,” and took her commitment seriously. She knew that being a pastor’s wife would have its own particular set of challenges, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Joshua had faced the usual crises that came with the ministry. In their previous church, a couple their age had conceived, but the baby had died in the mother’s womb five months into the pregnancy. She had stayed with Joshua and the family while the mother delivered the gnomelike stillborn child, and emerged from that experience emotionally devastated. “Life in the raw,” she called it, and that particular experience had caused Bethany – who was four years Joshua’s junior - to push the possibility of childbearing back further in her life planning. Although, she thought, that biological clock was ticking, as she winced at the prospect of turning thirty her next birthday.
There were the additional challenges of finding quality time – actually, any time at all – with Joshua. It seemed as though he was always at some committee meeting or other time-waster. Truthfully, actual ministry on Joshua’s part took only a fraction of the time that administrative duties took.
Bethany wasn’t sure what compelled her to visit the Dubose home with Joshua. Perhaps she found the circumstances of Meredith’s life intriguing and eerie. Joshua had always been the dreamer and the butterfly-chaser; she’d been much more pragmatic and grounded. She was thankful for the opportunity to go with him, and came away from the experience amazed at herself and the emotional resonance she found in the situation. She had the distinct impression that something was afoot in the Dubose home, and it seemed to be somehow connected to Joshua’s sermon and his recent fascination with the supernatural.
Then there was the matter of Meredith herself. Bethany saw Meredith for what she was – a strikingly lovely young lady. Thinking back to her first sight of Meredith, Bethany remembered thinking that Meredith was so ethereal that it was almost as if she were more spirit than flesh.
Joshua had noticed it, too, she thought wryly. Joshua was an unrepentant flirt, not in a suggestive or even an inappropriate way, but females had always found him charming. In his own words, he admitted, “I’ve always liked girls.” Bethany knew this heading into their relationship, and it was a source of constant good-natured kidding. For his whole life, single and married, he’d never given the slightest suggestion of doing anything inappropriate.
Bethany had adeptly swept him off his feet in college, and while he believed that he’d snagged her, the truth was just the opposite. She had been the pursuer. Joshua had extraordinary confidence in his relationships with the ladies; he couldn’t conceive that he’d been anything other than the conqueror. Joshua had since become the more dominant personality in the marriage – it came with being a pastor – but, in reality, Bethany called a lot more of the shots than Joshua would admit, or imagine.
Meredith had captured Joshua’s attention. That was obvious. Bethany was secretly amused at how tongue-tied he had been. She wasn’t alarmed or concerned in the least. Boys will be boys, she thought wearily, and as long as Meredith didn’t give any indications of chasing Joshua, all would be well.
So what was Meredith facing? Bethany replayed the evening over in her mind once again. Meredith had told quite a story. Bethany found herself pitying Meredith more than anything else, not because of the supposed supernatural element, but just because of the tragedy she’d faced.
Still, there was the matter of seeing someone walk by on the verandah right outside the parlor doors. Bethany was convinced that she hadn’t been in a suggestible state. Who – or what – had she seen? It was more than a little disconcerting, and she felt a small chill trace its way up her spine.
About that time, Joshua gave a loud snort and rolled over on his back. Bethany gazed at him, then shook his shoulder. “Are you awake?”
Joshua moaned. “I am now,” he said, none too happy.
“I’m wide awake,” said Bethany.
“Go back to sleep,” said Joshua, turning back over to take his own advice.
“Joshua,” Bethany began, and then sighed. “Never mind.” She rubbed her eyes, settling back on her pillow.
After a few moments of silence, Joshua said, “What?”
Bethany rolled over to face Joshua. She could see the back of his head in the ambient light. She absently reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. “What was the nightmare you had the other night?”
Joshua didn’t move. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”
“No, really. What did you dream?”
Joshua rolled over to face his wife. “This is pretty gross,” he said, “but I dreamed I found you drowned right here in the bed. You were drowned … but you weren’t dead.”
Bethany pondered this for a minute. “I wish you hadn’t told me that,” she said finally.
“Well, you asked,” Joshua said.
“Where’d that come from?”
“I’m not real sure,” said Joshua, still half asleep. “Part of it might’ve had something to do with how Meredith’s parents died. The way I figure it, there’s a little guy who lives in your brain. He’s responsible for the valve that keeps the wacko stuff in your head from draining over into the rest of your mind. While you’re asleep sometimes, he opens that valve just a little. We couldn’t face that stuff in our waking hours. He’s just letting a little of the pressure off.”
“Huh,” Bethany grunted. “You think that for some folks he lets the valve run open all the time?”
“Ahon’t know,” Joshua said, drifting back toward sleep. “Could we talk about this later?”
“I guess,” Bethany said, and then snuggled close to Joshua, spooning along the contours of his back. Within moments, he was snoring softly, and she was no closer to sleep than she had been.
Eventually, in the darkest watches of the night, Bethany did manage to find some sleep. Her last thoughts were of Meredith. Was Meredith’s little guy watching over the valve in her head? Was her little guy capable of opening other people’s valves? Floating through the last few jumbled thoughts all people have before sleep overtakes them, Bethany wondered just how busy Meredith’s “little guy” would be in the days ahead.
The next week, on Wednesday, Joshua got up and marched through his usual morning routine: up and out of bed; relieving himself; sitting comatose at the table eating cereal (today it was Frosted Flakes); then shaving, showering, and dressing, in that order. He’d left Bethany in bed. She groggily asked him to let her lay in the bed a while longer, since she hadn’t slept well. He went back to their bedroom and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She’d gone back to sleep, a patch of drool already on her pillow. “The quality of sleep is directly proportional to th
e amount of slobber produced,” Joshua noted, but Bethany didn’t respond.
Joshua went to his study at the church. He told Gretchen to hold any calls, unless it was Bethany, because he had to work on his Bible study for prayer meeting that evening. He cleared his desk of the usual clutter of junk mail and meaningless notes to himself (one sticky note had “chicken” written on it, but he had no idea what that was supposed to mean). He pulled a couple of Bible commentaries off the shelf and immersed himself in study. Joshua often thought that at some point he might go back to seminary for his doctorate; he loved study and research and was good at it.
The next time he glanced at his watch two hours had passed. “Wow,” he said, looking at his notes. Joshua didn’t typically spend that much time on his Wednesday evening studies, but this one had taken off with a life of its own. There was enough material here for two, maybe three weeks. “Way to go, champ,” Joshua told himself, slipping his notes in a file folder.
He got up, stretched, and went to Gretchen’s office. Gretchen was working on “Table Talk,” a weekly announcement sheet for those attending Wednesday night supper and prayer meeting. It had a prayer list and announcements of upcoming events. Joshua thought Calvary Church was tough on trees; he had no idea how much printed material the church generated, but it had to be significant.
“Anything exciting going on?” Joshua asked Gretchen.
“Not a lot,” she said. “There’s a couple of hospital visits you probably need to make. Jimmy Tracy called and wants you to call him at the bank. I think he wants to take you to lunch.”
“I’m all over that,” Joshua said, going back to his office. He had a speed dial button set for Jimmy’s office.
Sure enough, Jimmy wanted to take him to lunch. They agreed to meet at Donatello’s, a cozy mom-and-pop Italian eatery on the square. “Is there any agenda?” Joshua asked.
“Not really,” Jimmy said. “Well, maybe there is. Christine and I talked a long time about the situation with Meredith Dubose. I know you’ve got better things to think about, but I just wanted to get your spin on things.”
