by L. L. Soares
Wendy looked into the pond and then walked around ignoring Jimmy and Cathy. The old racetrack fascinated her, and she had looked forward to wandering the grounds.
Cathy and Jimmy talked quietly. “I’m scared. I don’t want to lose my friends. I’ll be all alone.”
“Jimmy, you’re the only person who can do this.” Cathy looked at him, but Jimmy wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re gonna be a hero.”
Jimmy knew Cathy was right. His friends had to go and he had to do it. “Okay, I’m ready now.”
“I’m proud of you. You’re being very brave.”
Jimmy walked to the edge of the pond and lifted the bags off the ground. He gripped the tops of the bags together in both hands and stood holding them over the water. Cathy stood up and smiled at him.
He met her eyes. “I’ll miss you. You’re my best friend.”
He stepped into the pond and disappeared under the black water.
Cathy couldn’t believe what he had done. She ran to the water’s edge but he was gone.
Wendy ran over and pulled off her shoes. Cathy grabbed her arm to stop her. Wendy pushed the child away and dove into the water. She surfaced several times for air and finally gave up the search. “I can’t see anything down there. The water is black. I’m sorry, I can’t find him.” Wendy pulled herself onto the grass. She took deep breaths and tears ran down her cheeks.
“It’s okay. He knew he had to take them. They would never go on their own.”
Cathy and Wendy walked back to the house.
When they reached the yard, Robert ran down the steps to Cathy. “Are you all right? Wendy, you’re soaked. What happened?”
Wendy started to cry again. “Jimmy jumped into the pond. He did it on purpose. I tried to get him out. I went down into the pond over and over again, but I couldn’t find him in that black water. It was too dark. He’s gone. There wasn’t anything else I could do.”
Robert looked at Cathy. She nodded and started to cry too.
Steven flew through the front door, towels in hand. He wrapped a towel around Wendy’s shoulders and helped her into the house. “I’ll call for help. I better call Walter too.”
“Daddy, I have to tell you about the scarecrows.” Cathy and Robert walked to the road and crossed over to the creek. They sat on the grass at the edge of the ditch, and she explained to her father about the ghosts coming up from the pond and entering the scarecrows. She explained how they liked to murder people. She told her father that Jimmy was the only one who could stop them. She told him how they planned to get rid of them, and how Jimmy decided to go with them.
“Can you tell his father he’s dead? Tell him about his bravery.”
“I’ll do that.” Robert felt his daughter’s anguish. “We have to call the police and report this. They’ll pull Jimmy’s body out of the pond.”
Robert knew Jimmy murdered all those people. As much as Cathy believed every word of her story, he simply couldn’t swallow it. Ghosts and scarecrows were too much for him. He knew Cathy needed Steven to help her. She had bigger issues than they ever realized.
“Cathy, are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” Cathy raised her head. “I have to go back to the hospital soon.”
Robert didn’t answer her.
“Maybe I can come home more often now.”
They walked back to the house and found everyone on the porch. Wendy had dried off and changed her clothes. Steven phoned Walter and explained what happened. The detective was on his way. Robert sat on the steps and waited for him and his team to arrive. Cathy sat down beside him.
Thirty minutes later, a head gently broke the surface of the water. Wet hair hung down over a pair of searching eyes. Seeing no one around, Jimmy pulled himself onto the bank and dragged the three bags up with him from the pond. He lifted the bags over his shoulder and made his way to the racetrack. He crawled under the remains of the concrete stable at the back of the property. Opening the duffel bags, he heard the familiar voices.
“Wow, I thought she’d never leave. What is it with her anyway?”
“That little shit has some nerve. She tried to drown us.”
“Are we safe now?”
“Be quiet. Can’t you hear the sirens. The police are on their way to find me.” Jimmy quickly closed the bags again. “I’ll deal with you guys later. Right now I have to find somewhere to hide out for a while.”
Chapter Ten
September 29, 1964
The bottle of Canadian Club sat on the table in front of Clare. The prescription bottles sat beside the whiskey. Robert walked behind his wife and kissed her on the top of the head. He stopped in the doorway and turned.
“I’m heading for bed. Are you coming up soon?”
“I’m just relaxing a little before I go to bed. Go get some rest. You have to work tomorrow. Good night, dear.”
Clare stared at the bottle. She remembered watching her mother drink every night. When menopause hit her, she understood why. She poured four fingers of whiskey into the glass and downed it. She poured another drink and grabbed her pill bottles. Clare dug out several Valium and a couple of Seconal and washed them down with the whiskey.
A little after two in the morning, Clare heard Cathy tiptoe into the bathroom and then back to her room.
She lay awake—matching her breathing to Robert’s gentle snoring. When the heat started to rise, she turned and lifted her body into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. The heat radiated through the top of her head and then reached down, all the way to her feet. She’d done this many times and still couldn’t get used to it. She took deep breaths and tried to control the panic. The sweating began, and she felt droplets run from every pore until her entire body dripped moisture.
The sweat mingled with her tears when she walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The moonlight lit the kitchen with a dim glow. She pulled the housecoat she used for canning from the pantry. Hanging the wet nightgown over the back of a chair, she wrapped her nude body in the old robe. She headed through the house and out the front door, to the cool air on the porch.
Clare edged into the chair in the dark corner. She opened the robe and breathed a sigh of relief. The breeze whispered over her body. She let her head fall back and stretched her legs out, enjoying the cool air. The unbearable heat slowly subsided and she felt an acute awareness of her surroundings.
She stargazed and breathed slowly. The gravel alongside the house crunched under footfalls and interrupted her. Clare pulled the robe closed and watched. In the moonlight, a small figure entered the yard, and ran across the road. Cathy jumped into the ditch, pulled herself up the other side, and disappeared into the field.
Clare sat there stunned and thought she’d imagined it, but she couldn’t be sure. Getting up, she followed her daughter.
She stopped to get her bearings in the tall corn. Then that terrible inner heat started again. The sweat was rolling down her back. Clare wanted to run, but had no idea of the right direction. A hand gripped her shoulder and she froze.
October 1970
Steven poured a cup of coffee. “I’m going to clean out the garden today.”
Robert sat at the kitchen table with the local paper spread out everywhere.
Steven refilled his friend’s cup and sat down across from him. He pulled a section of paper, sipped coffee, and browsed the pages.
Robert looked up from the paper. “Did you plan on being around this afternoon? They’re delivering a new bed. Can you help me get it upstairs?”
“Sure, just give me a shout.”
“Thanks, I will.” Robert sipped his coffee. “I thought I’d bring Cathy home again for a couple days. What do you think?”
“She seems fine right now. Sometimes I wonder if the scarecrows did kill Emily and poor Cathy told the truth all along.”
Robert
looked at his friend. “I spent a lot of time watching that cornfield. I never saw anything unusual, except for one night. I saw those scarecrows walking around. It happened right after Clare died. I did have a real drunk going at the time, and I hadn’t slept for a couple nights.”
“Your scarecrow research is admirable and inconclusive.” Steven smiled and continued. “Cathy talked Jimmy into drowning the scarecrows. He committed suicide because he didn’t want to be alone. He knew with Cathy in the hospital, he would have no one.”
“They were best friends.”
“Last month, I asked Cathy about Jimmy. She wouldn’t talk about him. I should ask Walter whether Jimmy could be the murderer.”
“Jimmy had the strength and Emily hated him. She called him names and said someone should lock him up,” Robert added.
“I’ll see what Walter thinks.”
“I’ll invite him for Sunday supper.”
“That sounds good.”
Steven finished his coffee and headed out the back door. He needed to clear the garden and do some thinking.
Robert had just finished his paper when the phone rang. He offered a quick hello and waited for a response.
“It’s Walter.”
“We were just talking about you and wondered about supper, tomorrow? Steven has a new theory.”
“I just did my annual file review again and I’m afraid nothing jumped out at me. I could use some new ideas, and supper sounds great.”
“Come anytime after lunch. We’ll be here.”
“I’ll come early and we can talk.”
The furniture truck arrived just before lunch and two men lifted a wooden double bed frame with a headboard and footboard into the living room. They followed it with a box spring and mattress.
“It’s a beauty. Bet that cost a pretty penny?” Steven stroked the dark wood.
“My boss got me a hell of a deal from his brother-in-law. I couldn’t afford to turn it down. The old bed is twenty-five, maybe thirty years old.”
“Then it’s earned its place on the fire pit. Why don’t we haul the old one out now and we can set up this one after lunch?”
Robert and Steven began the chore of taking down the old bed. Despite the splinters, they managed to tear it down without incident. Once they got everything outside, Steven headed back to the garden. Robert pulled out the Hoover and dragged it upstairs.
The carpet looked terrible. It had been five years since Clare died, and he hadn’t vacuumed under the bed in all that time. The dust and cobwebs fluffed up several inches on the rug.
Robert spotted a shiny object in the dust and picked up an earring belonging to Clare. He put it into her jewelry box. Afraid he might vacuum up something important, he decided to go through the dust and crawled around on his knees, feeling for any other treasures.
Where the head of the bed had been, beside the baseboard, he found a piece of paper. He recognized his wife’s writing, sat back on his heels, and unfolded it.
He read the note and felt his breathing become fast and shallow. He folded the note and shoved it into his pocket. He sat against the wall and cried. He could still hear Clare’s voice and recognize her face in his mind. He got up, vacuumed, and went back downstairs to make lunch.
After lunch, Steven helped him bring up the new bed and set it up.
“I made tea. Would you like a cup before you try that comfortable new bed of yours?” Steven stood at the screen door.
Robert stood on the front porch and looked out over the yard. He had eaten very little and sat quiet through supper. Steven decided he probably missed Clare. Replacing their marriage bed could be hard on him. “I’m sure tea will help me sleep.”
“I’ll grab a couple mugs for us and be right out.”
Steven brought the tea, and they settled on the porch.
“Remember that letter you got about expropriating this property? Did you ever hear from them again?” Steven asked.
“Not yet. All I know is I can’t sell this place, because now they’re going to expropriate it for expansion purposes. I should have sold when Barry did.” Robert lit a cigarette and sipped the hot tea.
“He moved right after Jimmy died. I wonder how he’s doing now.” Steven sat back, warming both hands on his mug.
“He wrote me a letter last year. He lives in Ottawa now. He invited me to his wedding.”
“Really? What did you tell him?”
“I wished him well and told him I couldn’t make it. I felt like every time he looked at me, he would remember things he should forget.” Robert sipped his tea.
“Is Walter coming for supper tomorrow?”
“Yes. He’s coming.”
“Good, I want his opinion.”
Robert got up. “Maybe we could have our tea in the living room. It’s getting cold out here.” Robert put out his cigarette and moved inside. Steven followed.
They each found comfortable chairs and sat down with their tea.
Robert spoke quietly. “There’s something I need you to read.”
He handed Steven the note.
A little confused, the doctor unfolded the paper. He read it and Robert watched his face register shock. “This is Clare’s suicide note. Where and when did you find this?”
“I found it under the bed when I vacuumed today. It must have fallen there the day she died.”
“I don’t know what to say, Robert. Let’s wait until tomorrow and and when Walter gets here, we can all discuss it.” Robert nodded and Steven handed the note back to his friend.
It turned out to be a sleepless night and very quiet morning. Both men thought about the contents of the note and all its implications. Walter arrived right after lunch and found both men sitting in the kitchen. Robert poured fresh coffee for everyone.
“You two are quiet. Is everything okay?” Walter could see the worry and exhaustion in his friends.
Steven spoke first and nodded to Robert. “Something’s happened and it should resolve a lot of things.”
“Okay.” Walter was intrigued.
“Everything will change.” Robert handed Walter the paper.
Walter read the note and handed it back. Robert placed the note in the center of the table. He got up and pulled the whiskey bottle and three glasses from the cabinet. He poured three stiff drinks and sat down. Robert lacked all expression when he raised his glass, nodded to his friends and downed the whiskey. Walter and Steven followed his lead. They all read the note again and thought about what to do.
The air was cool, but Robert had consumed enough whiskey by this time to fend off the cold. He and his friends discussed everything. He left them in the kitchen, and went to stand on his porch and look once more at the field. He took the note from his pocket and, in the dim porch light, read it one more time.
Robert;
Two days ago, Jimmy told me I was in the field with them the night Emily died. I know I drank a lot that night and I took pills. I thought I couldn’t forget something like that. I decided it was one of Jimmy’s stories.
I planned to put up the tomatoes today. I went into the pantry and took down all the empty jars. I remembered I hadn’t done any canning last year because of the murder. I found the old housecoat I wear over my clothes.
That housecoat was heavy with dried blood. When I saw it, everything about that night came flooding back. I hated Emily because she bullied my little girl. Cathy watched me murder her with your hatchet. I’m sure she thought I was crazy. My daughter protected me with her scarecrow stories. I can’t let her lie for me anymore.
I’m sorry I have to do this. I can’t face anyone, and I can’t trust myself. I destroyed my own family. I murdered a child. I am so sorry.
I love you.
Clare
Chapter Eleven
September 29, 1964
Startled, Clar
e turned to find Jimmy behind her. Sweat ran down her forehead and neck, and her skin had gone pale. When her legs gave way, she grabbed for Jimmy. The boy placed a hand under each elbow and held her up. After several deep breaths, she steadied herself.
Clare straightened her back and looked at Jimmy. “What are you doing out here at this time of night?”
“Cathy and Emily are fighting.”
Clare was confused. “They’re both here? Where are they? Can you show me?”
She followed Jimmy through several rows of corn and saw the two girls in the moonlight. Cathy tried to take Emily’s hand and Emily kept pushing her away.
Clare watched Emily grab her daughter’s arm and twist it. Cathy fell, crying, and then Emily kicked her.
The anger she felt had her temperature rising far beyond the hot flash. She stumbled to the girls, and shoved Emily to the ground. Clare helped Cathy to stand and then turned back to Emily. She was slowly getting up.
“How dare you treat my daughter that way?” Clare pushed her to the ground again. The woman fell to her knees and pushed Emily’s face into the dirt.
“Leave me alone, you old hag.” Emily started to get up again.
Clare saw the small axe lying there and grabbed it. She smashed it into the child’s head and Emily fell, facedown. She swung the axe at her head several times. When Emily finally stopped moving, Clare two-handed the axe and, in a frenzied rage, kept hacking at Emily. Cathy talked to her mother, but Clare didn’t hear her. When Cathy grabbed her mother’s arm, Clare froze. The child gently took the axe from her mother, and laid it on the ground. She tied Clare’s robe and looked at Jimmy.
“Please take her home.” The boy nodded.
Clare stood up and stared straight ahead.
Jimmy took her by the arm and walked with her out of the field. As he had always done, he rubbed out their footprints as they walked. He helped her across the creek, the road and the yard, and left her standing on her front porch.
