When he pulled up her house, Patrick turned to her. For a moment, Kate thought he was leaning in for a kiss. Instead, he said, “Not all guys are jerks, Kate.” With that, he smiled.
She couldn’t help but smile back. He did have a friendly smile. “Thanks for the ride. See you on Monday,” she said and got out of the car.
He waited at the curb while she climbed the front stairs and unlocked the front door. Once she opened the door, she heard the Corvette pull away from the curb.
It was nearly midnight and Kate was surprised to see that someone was up. Her dad sat in his easy chair, watching some old World War II footage. The man never got tired of looking at fuzzy black and white planes dropping bombs onto European towns and rustic ships doing battle at sea.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was your night?” Dad asked. James Gilbert had once been a powerful, handsome man, but the years of professional disappointment had aged him prematurely. He still had a sparkle in his dark brown eyes and a head full of salt and peppered hair, but the once strong body had become thin. The once strikingly handsome face, wrinkled. He was one of those men that people say “must have once been handsome.” It made her a little sad to look at him now. He seemed old. Her dad had never seemed old before.
“Less than wonderful,” she said. She noticed a can of potato chips beside his chair. She grabbed a few and flopped onto the couch.
“What happened?” he asked, but without taking his eyes from the television.
“Oh, you know. People acting stupid,” she said, knowing that she was one of those stupid people tonight.
“Yeah? Well, I’m glad you’re home, Princess.” It was a nickname she heard her entire life. Nobody called her that but her father. Every time he said it, she felt comforted.
She rose and gave him a kiss on his scratchy cheek. He still smelled of aftershave. He always smelled like Old Spice. She imagined that someday, when she was all grown up, she would catch a whiff of Old Spice cologne and be reminded of her father.
“Goodnight, Dad,” she said through a yawn.
9.
Kate pulled on a pair of pants and slipped into her flats. She had not gotten up in time to eat breakfast. Both Mom and the Catholic Church required a one hour buffer between breakfast and Holy Communion. She hadn’t made it up in time.
“You snooze, you lose,” Mom said to Kate every Sunday morning. That didn’t mean Kate couldn’t scarf down a cup of coffee, thick with cream and sugar, before flying out the door to make the ten o’clock mass.
The lectors droned on and on, the priest told unintelligible stories, the choir sang funereal songs, and the organist pounded out chords. Kate sighed and picked at her fingernails. Church is so boring.
At least she had a lot to think about. Last night had almost been a disaster. She felt guilty about going off alone with that Tom guy. What if he hadn’t stopped? He could have, well…. She stopped her train of thought, not willing to think any further. She had been drinking. It was stupid. She had put herself in a bad situation. It could have been much worse. She wouldn’t do it again.
And she had nearly cheated on Jacob! She felt a stab of guilt at that. She still hadn’t decided whether or not to tell him about it. In fact, maybe she shouldn’t. It would just upset him. Really, nothing had happened. Just a drunken, sloppy kiss she didn’t ask for. It wasn’t like she had wanted to cheat on him. In fact, if the guy hadn’t looked so much like Jacob, none of this would have happened.
Her mind wandered as she glanced around the tall ceilings of St. Peter’s. I wonder if the Catholic Church still does exorcisms, she pondered as the sermon lagged. Can you exorcize a house? Maybe I should steal some holy water as we’re leaving. A little sprinkle couldn’t hurt. Then, she wondered, is stealing holy water a sin?
What kind of ghost was it? Or, she thought with a shudder, are there more than one? What did they want? She couldn’t guess. She touched the heart-shaped burn on her arm. It hurt more today than yesterday. At least she could tell Jacob about that.
Gosh, she missed him. It was nice to talk to him and write to him. They’d had some great phone conversations. In many ways, she felt closer than ever to Jacob, but she missed his touch, his scent, his arms wrapped around her. They spent much of the summer at Platte River State Park. It was a free park with a wonderful sandy beach. They would frolic in the river, swinging out over the water on an old rope, jumping off the floating dock, splashing into the fast moving water.
Then they would collapse, exhausted onto their beach towels and tan. Jacob would roll over onto her towel and kiss her, his body warm from the sunshine. She’s brush the sand from his shoulders and chest. He had just a sprinkling of dark chest hair. She’d lie on her side and curl it around her fingers.
Then, they’d get cleaned up and meet again in the evening. Jacob would come over, dressed up and freshly shaved. She’d wrap her arms around his middle and inhale his scent, that mix of soap and cologne. Usually, they’d go out to eat Chinese food or pizza, then maybe a movie or a party with friends. The last stop before home was always the park.
It was probably called “Make Out Point” back in the fifties when cars full of teenagers would park amongst the shrubbery to have a little privacy while they took in the view. It was deserted most nights now. Jacob would park at the top of the rise so they could look out over the lights of the town. There wasn’t much to Elkhorn, Nebraska. Just a small downtown and smattering of houses, but the view wasn’t what drew them here.
They would kiss and Jacob would wrap his arms around her. She’d kiss him softly and then pull away. She could feel him getting excited, and it made Kate feel powerful, knowing she had him at her will.
Jacob wanted to do more, but Kate wasn’t ready. Her mother had told her a thousand times not to have sex before marriage. To some extent, the repetition had worked. Kate was still a virgin at sixteen. But it was more than that that kept her from going further. Kate felt that having sex now would somehow spoil this, spoil the sweet, exciting, romantic young love that they shared. She didn’t know how long she would make him wait. She just knew it wasn’t time. Not yet. She hoped he would wait for her.
People were getting up. Kate brought herself back to the present, sitting in the hard pew, a thousand miles away from Jacob. Her head felt light and she shook it slightly. Matt, who was sitting on her right, gave her a nudge. Oh, Communion. She stood, shimmied her way through the aisle and lined up for Communion. After having her “breakfast,” as she sometimes called the bland wafer, Kate kneeled and daydreamed some more. A few minutes later, it was over.
“Thank God,” Kate said quietly.
*
Sunday night is always a drag. The weekend is over. Monday looms ahead like a splitting headache you know you’re going to get, but can’t prevent. But now, Sunday night held a wonderful event for Kate: a phone call to Jacob.
She dialed his number, but the phone just rang and rang. She didn’t want to leave him a message. Kate hung up. Where is Jacob? I told him I would call him on Sunday night. Where could he be? Why isn’t he picking up his phone?
Maybe he was ignoring her call on purpose. Maybe he doesn’t love me anymore, she thought quickly and painfully, before banishing the thought. She did almost cheat on him last night. Did he find out? No, of course not. She decided that, for the benefit of their relationship, she’d definitely keep that bit of news to herself. It would only make him mad. Then he’d want to come here and find the Jacob look-alike and beat him up. He’d probably get arrested and what a mess that would be.
She took out the one letter he had sent her so far. Kate had expected more letters, better letters, full of poetry. She read it again. Although she liked hearing about his new life at college, she really wanted to hear how much he loved her and missed her. This letter left her feeling disappointed and empty.
She occupied herself, killing time. Kate turned toward her closet and poked through her clothes, trying to figure out what to wear to school the next day. She leafed thr
ough her clothes. When Kate went to public school back in Nebraska, she never appreciated the simple joy of wearing jeans, a tee-shirt and her favorite boots to school every day.
Now, in Catholic school, Kate had to plan carefully so that she didn’t violate any of the sacred dress codes: no jeans, no tee-shirts, nothing too tight, nothing too loose, no hats, no sneakers, no “distracting” hair styles, no “unnatural” makeup; the list went on and on. Kate didn’t like all the rules. Finally settling on a blue sweater and leggings, which were, of course, not allowed, she spun around and started toward the bed.
But a moment later, she stopped. She noticed that the chandelier was swaying again. Kate drew closer to the chandelier and stared. It just barely moved, swaying softly from side to side.
“What the heck is going on around here,” she whispered breathlessly.
Kate lost her nerve. She sprang for the door, smashing her little toe against the bed frame. Ignoring the pain, she flung open the door and ran into the warm light of Matt’s room.
Matt, who was reclining on his bed, listening to music, sat up and asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Something very creepy is going on in this house. Something is trying to scare us out of here.” She was nearly yelling.
Matt stared at her in disbelief. “Okay, Velma. If you and Shaggy set up a trap to catch those doggone ghosts, there will be Scooby Snacks for everyone!”
“This is not funny,” she said.
“What are you talking about?”
“The chandelier in my room moves by itself, rocks throw themselves around the basement. Hello, what more proof do you need?” Kate said, emphasizing each syllable in the last sentence. “Look at my arm!” She thrust it out at him.
Matt shrugged and looked at her. “I think you’ve lost your mind. Do you really think this house is haunted?”
“I don’t know.”
“I haven’t seen anything or heard anything strange,” Matt said, skepticism in his eyes.
“But the rocks in the basement. You have to admit. That was not natural.”
“A little weird, but I wasn’t here when it happened, remember?”
“Right.”
“I think you miss Jacob too much.”
Kate gave Matt a look of frustration and left the room.
*
She nearly forgot to call Jacob back. After the strange episode with the light, Kate needed a little company and a lot of mind-numbing television. She ran down the stairs to the family room to watch TV. Later, Kate started to help her sisters put together a puzzle on the kitchen table. It was nearly ten when Kate finally remembered Jacob.
“Jacob?” she asked.
“Hi, Kate!” Jacob’s cheery voice answered back. “How are you doing?”
“Hi, honey. Where were you? I called earlier and you didn’t pick up.”
“Oh, I was hanging out with some people in the cafeteria. I guess my phone was turned off. Sorry about that.
“Oh. That’s okay,” Kate said, relieved that Jacob still loved her.
“So, what’s been going on with you?”
“Promise me you won’t laugh if I tell you something.”
“Okay.”
“Do you promise?” Kate asked.
“Yes, I promise. What is it?”
“I think my house is haunted.”
He honestly tried not to laugh. Kate could hear him struggling with it, even from a thousand miles away. He burst into laughter.
“Sorry, sweetie, but you can’t be serious,” he said, chortling.
She told him everything that had been going on. “It’s all too weird. It’s got to be haunted.” She paused while Jacob took it all in. “There’s no other explanation.”
“It sounds like somebody is having fun with you.”
“How, Jacob? How could somebody swing the chandelier in my room without me seeing them? How is it that somebody threw rocks around my basement and then disappeared before we all got down there? What about the burn on my arm?”
Instead of answering her questions, he asked, “So what are you going to do about it?” He still wasn’t taking her seriously, but she appreciated the charade anyway.
“I don’t know.” She sighed and shook her head. “Do you know what? Let’s talk about something else. Tell me what you did this weekend.”
He chatted about his new friends and a football game, but a few minutes later, Jacob said, “Well, I’ve got a lot of work to do before class tomorrow.”
“But we just got on the phone, Jacob. I can’t survive another Monday with just this short conversation!” Kate whined.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ve got to read a bunch of chapters and write a paper. I’ve got so much to do, but I’ll be thinking about you all night and all week too.” He paused, waiting for a response, but Kate was silent. “And I’ll write to you every night this week. I promise. Hey, when are you going to get your internet hooked up?”
“I have no idea. There’s only one phone jack in this whole house and it’s in the kitchen.” Kate paused. “But do you know what? I kind of like writing letters and sending them in the mail. I think it’s very romantic.”
“Yeah, me too, I guess.”
“I love you, sweetie.”
“I love you, too.”
With that, Kate hung up the phone. And for some reason, she felt depressed.
*
Kate was flying. No, not flying, floating. Her arms stretched out to the sides, she lifted lightly in the air. She could feel a soft breeze blowing, could feel it brushing her hair around her face and neck, though it made no sound. Below her, a field of tall green grass danced in the gentle wind. She felt warm sunshine on her back as she drifted to and fro.
Suddenly, she felt a jerk and she was pulled downward. Below her was a man, standing in the field. She couldn’t see his face; it was a black hole above his narrow chest. She floated in the air above him like a kite. He held the string.
He pulled the string again and she drifted silently lower, toward him. As she drew closer, she could feel his energy, a dark, powerful force. She was being reeled in and suddenly, she felt terror. She no longer felt like a kite on a string, but the prey of a spider entwined in web, waiting to be eaten.
She tried to kick her feet, to thrash her arms, but she couldn’t break free. She fell lower and lower, dropping quickly now. She saw the man put up his arms to welcome her, to embrace her. Kate held her breath and waited to be taken in.
Kate woke up terrified and panting, her body tingling. She sat up quickly, pushing her hair out of her eyes, and peered into the darkness. Only Ace stirred at the foot of her bed, looking up at her with a quizzical look. All else was quiet.
She inhaled deeply and lay back down, rattled. That man seemed familiar. She pushed him out of her head and closed her eyes. These dreams were getting to be too much. She thought back to Jacob’s question earlier. What are you going to do about it, this haunted house? What can I do? An idea popped into her head. Having a solution of sorts, she fell back to sleep.
10.
“Patrick, is there any way to communicate with the spirits in my house?” Kate whispered, leaning over to him in Pre-Cal class.
“Well, you can use a Ouija Board.”
“Does that really work?”
“Well, depends on who you ask. I’ve definitely had some weird experiences with them.”
“Do you think it could help, you know, if we tried to talk to them?”
“It might. I have a Ouija Board. Do you want me to bring it over?”
“Yeah. How about Friday night. My parents are going out to some work party,” she said.
“Cool. Do you have candles?”
“Mr. Murphy,” Miss Salinas barked from the chalkboard where she was explaining the wonders of the unknown variable. “Pipe down.”
Patrick nodded and leaned back into his chair. He pulled out a sheet of notebook paper and wrote something on it. He passed it to Kate under the desks. Are you
sure you want to do this? was written in a surprisingly neat script. Kate wrote beneath his question. I have to. Things are getting really weird.
After reading her note, Patrick nodded solemnly. Chris, who sat behind Patrick, grabbed the paper from his hands, read it and scrawled something. He handed it back to Patrick who passed it along to Kate.
Sounds like fun. Count me in.
*
“He’s just an idiot,” Lisa said as she daintily bit into her sandwich. Her harsh words and her delicate actions never seemed to jive, Kate thought.
The Blacker House Page 10
