Ghost Boy of Mackenzie House

by Patti Larsen

  “Did someone hurt you?” she asked him, knowing he wouldn’t answer, but hoping for more clues. “Is that why you’re sad?”

  In answer, he turned and pointed to the staircase. Chloe followed his gesture and found herself standing on the top step.

  “You want me to leave?” She felt hurt. Maybe he didn’t want her help after all.

  He continued to point. Chloe tried to follow where he was pointing and realized he wasn’t showing her the stairs, but the low wall above them. It was so low she almost had to duck every time she came up.

  She pointed at it. “Is that what you want me to look at?”

  The boy vanished. Chloe was startled and disoriented. His glow had given her some light. Curious, she switched on her flashlight and shone it on the overhang. It was plain wood, like the rest of the upstairs, rough in places with bits of old bark curling away. She examined it, leaning forward to touch it. She felt each board, one at a time, all the way to the corner. She struggled to reach and had to go down one step to do so. When she did, she felt the last board move under her hand. Excited, Chloe slid it aside. There was a hole behind it. She shone her flashlight in but was too short to see very far.

  Trying to be brave, Chloe stuck her hand inside and met cobwebs. She pulled back with a little shriek before trying again. This time, she found something with the edges of her fingertips. She tugged at the hard, flat thing with the tips of her nails and felt it slide closer to her. After some coaxing, she was able to get it close enough to get her fingers around it and pull it out.

  It was a book. Chloe held it up under her light. The cover was dusty and very worn, made of brown cloth, from what she could tell, cracked and bent at the edges. It was covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs. She blew on it to clear the clinging stuff away. Eager to have a look inside, she started down the stairs. She paused, though, and went back up long enough to whisper “thank you” into the room before retreating back to her own.

  She was much less careful on her return trip, but made it without waking Aunt Larry anyway. She found an old sock and dusted the book clean. She climbed into bed with it and took it with her into her tent. Fingers trembling with excitement, she opened the cover.

  The paper was thin and brittle, little bits of the edges breaking off in her fingers. It was yellowed with age and looked like it might have gotten wet at some point, drying with wavy light-brown borders around the pages. Inside the front cover was a sketch of a small house, faded but still visible. On the facing page she read:

  The Private Journal of J.

  Chloe ran her fingertips over the words. “Hi, J,” she said. She flipped the page. It clung to the next one by the corner. It took her a couple of soft tugs to get them apart. The first page was dated December 25, 1941.

  My Christmas present is perfect! Momma knew what I wanted. I shall keep all of my thoughts and feelings in this book and share them with no one until I am a famous author someday.

  Chloe smiled. He sounded kind of like Marsh.

  December 26, 1941

  J is jealous and tried to take my journal. He wants to read it. He seems to think that just because he is my twin brother I should share everything with him, but I disagree. To my relief, so does Momma. I have decided to secret this journal in the oldest part of the house, safe from prying eyes. If you are reading this and you are not me, please put this journal back.

  Chloe felt slightly guilty for ignoring J’s request, like a bit of a snoop. Still, she turned the page, eager to go on, but the paper was stuck again. Not wanting to tear it, she closed it instead. Her eyes were getting heavy anyway and she wanted to be able to read it all the way through.

  He wouldn’t have shown me where it was if he didn’t want me to read it, she told herself in an effort to ease the pang of guilt.

  Chloe kissed her parents’ photo good night and placed it between the first two pages of the book before tucking the whole thing under her pillow. As she switched off her flashlight and set it aside, she whispered into the quiet of her room.

  “Good night, J,” she said. “Thanks for the book. I promise I’ll read it all and find out what happened so I can help you.” It felt very important for her to do it.

  For the first time since she had arrived, Chloe fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

  Chloe was halfway through breakfast before Aunt Larry brought it up.

  “What were you doing out and around so late last night?” Her aunt was sipping her cup of coffee and looking right at her. Chloe’s heart stopped. She hadn’t been as careful as she thought.

  “Nothing,” she said, focusing her attention on her toast and peanut butter.

  “I don’t like you wandering around the house in the middle of the night,” Aunt Larry said. “You could fall down the stairs and hurt yourself.”

  “I’m okay,” Chloe said. “Honest. I just… ” She hated lying to her aunt but couldn’t tell her the truth. “I was going to the bathroom and thought I heard something downstairs.”

  “Even worse,” Aunt Larry said, but she was smiling. “You’re braver than you should be. Braver than I am.” She chuckled. “Next time, come get me, okay?”

  Chloe filled her mouth with toast so she wouldn’t have to say anything else. Her deception seemed to have worked because her aunt changed the subject.

  “We’ve been invited to the MacKenzies’,” she said. “Sunday is big meal day here. Mary thought you’d like to taste a real Island chicken dinner.”

  Chloe almost choked on her breakfast. Chicken! She struggled to swallow as the cute little chickens from Marsh’s yard pranced through her memory. Larry was laughing at her.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, understanding Chloe’s reluctance. “Nobody you know.”

  Chloe giggled. “Good,” she said.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to take you with me to Africa after all.” Her aunt winked at her. “You might not like the food.”

  Chloe didn’t want to think about it. “How can you stand it?” she asked.

  Aunt Larry pretended to shudder. “You have no idea,” she said. “The first time I went, they asked me to help make dinner. That involved killing a small pig.” She rolled her eyes. “There was no way. I could barely eat for a week. I didn’t know what a huge honour it was. They were having a feast for me. They got by on very little. I almost insulted them when I couldn’t eat it. I was lucky, though. My guide had seen it before.” She was smiling at the memory. “You get used to it when you’re hungry enough.”

  Chloe was quite certain she would never in her life be that hungry, ever.

  “So we’ll leave here around 12:30, okay?”

  Chloe was confused. “I thought you said dinner.”

  “Oh yes, right,” Aunt Larry said on her way to her office with a fresh cup of coffee. “Another Island thing. Dinner is lunch and supper is dinner. Funny, huh?”

  Chloe agreed. It didn’t stop her from worrying about the whole thing, however. She fretted all morning about seeing Marsh’s brothers again, not wanting to relive the embarrassment of two days before. Plus, she wanted time to fix the journal so she could read it. She was able to get a few more pages separated by the time Aunt Larry called for her, but not many. It was a slow and frustrating process and Chloe was sure her aunt could help her. But getting help with the journal would lead to telling Aunt Larry too much and Chloe didn’t want to share.

  Aunt Larry was standing by the edge of the field when Chloe came down. She was disappointed.

  “We aren’t driving?” she asked, thinking about the last time she walked to Marsh’s and how hot and dirty she was when she got there.

  Aunt Larry smiled at her. “The fresh air is good for us,” she said.

  Under her breath Chloe muttered something unhappy about fresh air, but followed anyway.

  Instead of cutting through the field like Marsh had, however, Aun
t Larry walked along the edge for a bit before turning in. Chloe was delighted, then angry.

  “A path?” She stopped at the head of it so Aunt Larry had to pause and turn to see her. “He dragged me all the way through that,” she pointed at the long, heavy grass, “when there was a path?” She was going to hit Marsh when she saw him.

  Aunt Larry was laughing. “Come on, you,” she said. “We’re going to be late.”

  When they emerged in the MacKenzies’ yard, they were greeted with great gusto by the very enthusiastic Shep. His baying barks brought Marsh running. He was scrubbed pink, his curls smashed into some kind of order behind his ears which, Chloe noticed, stuck out a little.

  “Dinner’s ready!” he said before turning and running back toward the house. He looked over his shoulder once and waved for them to hurry. “C’mon! You’ll miss the crunchy stuffing!”

  Not sure what to expect, Chloe picked up the pace. By the time she and Aunt Larry reached the front door, Marsh had already gone inside. His mother, Mary, met them with a beaming smile. She had deep red hair and soft blue eyes. Her pale yellow sundress was protected by a red and white checkered apron. She hugged Aunt Larry before turning to Chloe.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Mary said. Chloe smiled back, shyness returning.

  They were ushered through the small porch full of rubber boots and plastic tubs and boxes of old nails and bits of odds and ends, and into the main room with a big wood stove in the corner. Chloe followed Aunt Larry to the dining room. The whole house smelled great. Chloe’s mouth watered as she sat down between Rebecca and her aunt. Marsh sat across from her. Chloe smiled at Rebecca who smiled back and squeezed her hand.

  “Nice to see you, Chloe,” Rebecca said.

  The rest of the kids offered their noisy hellos that turned to pandemonium. Chloe was overwhelmed by them. They shouted and yelled back and forth at each other while Bill, Marsh’s father, stood at the head of the table carving a golden chicken. Marsh and his brothers kept taking turns stealing from a big white bowl of what looked like bread. Sophie had never cooked stuff like this.

  Marsh leaned forward after a nab and tossed some onto Chloe’s plate. It was bread with some green herb in it. It was roasted brown on the outside and looked soft on the inside. She popped it into her mouth and was surprised by the crunch. It was delicious, full of chicken flavour and butter and bread and the herb that was on it.

  “Good, yeah?” Marsh was munching on his own.

  Chloe nodded, eyes wide. Mary was smiling.

  “Larry said you had never had roast chicken dinner before,” she said. “It’s a favourite. I hope you like it.”

  Chloe did. Mashed potatoes were piled high on her plate, to be smothered by hot golden gravy. Buttered carrots and caramelized sweet potatoes joined them. Aunt Larry gave her a generous slice of chicken breast from the serving plate, one with the skin still on. Then she added a dollop of some kind of deep purple jelly.

  “Blackberry,” she told Chloe. “We’ll make some this fall. You’ll love it.”

  It was all topped off with hot, homemade biscuits and real butter. Chloe waited with the others, as impatient as the boys, while little Grace said, fittingly enough, grace. Then, she dug in. She was grinning at Marsh as much as he was smiling at her. The food was delicious and she didn’t stop shovelling until her plate was empty.

  Mary’s eyes were bright when she asked if it was okay. Chloe almost choked and had to take a drink while she nodded with great enthusiasm. Aunt Larry laughed beside her, but was eating with as much enjoyment.

  It wasn’t long before everyone sat back with happy groans of too-full stomachs. Even the twins, who seemed to be bottomless pits and had fought over thirds, were satisfied.

  Bill leaned over and kissed Mary on the cheek. “That was delicious, dear,” he said. The chorus agreed, Chloe among them.

  “I hope we left room for dessert.” Mary winked at Chloe.

  She wasn’t quite as full as she thought she was.

  “So, Chloe,” Bill said, “I hear you had a close encounter with the grain pile the other day.”

  Chloe blushed. Mary cuffed her husband on the arm.

  “Leave her, Bill,” she said, looking at Chloe with sympathy. “It wasn’t her fault the boys dragged her into that.”

  Bill’s eyes were twinkling. He had pale red hair and a ton of freckles like his kids. “Did it take long to get all the chaff out of your hair?”

  “No, Mr. MacKenzie,” Chloe said. That made him laugh.

  “Good for you, kiddo,” he answered. “At least you had a helping hand, right Marshall?”

  It was Marsh’s turn to blush.

  “I think we could find something else to talk about,” Mary said. “Larry told me you’re reading Anne of Green Gables.” The boys all groaned, but Rebecca was smiling at her mother.

  “Yes, Mrs. MacKenzie,” Chloe said.

  “It was my favourite book when I was your age,” Mary said with a smile, getting up and gathering a few dishes. “I loved how brave she was and how she was always getting herself into and out of trouble. It helped that we have the same colour hair.”

  “And the same temper,” Bill grinned, dodging Mary’s elbow as she loaded up with plates.

  Chloe wasn’t sure what to make of the MacKenzies with their huge family and the way they teased each other. Sure, Patrick had been great to joke about, but both he and her mom were quiet people, nothing like the loud, enthusiastic clan she found herself surrounded by. Still, Mary’s comments about Anne hit close to home. Who would have thought I’d be having my own adventure?

  Rebecca got up to help but when Aunt Larry and Chloe did the same, Mary waved them off. “Guests sit,” she said before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Bill was still grinning. Chloe’s dad had been a tease as well. Patrick loved nothing more than to get a rise out of her or Sophie, whoever would take the bait. Because of that, Chloe wasn’t offended when Bill went on. He was very nice and his smile was good-natured.

  “How are you liking the old homestead, Chloe?”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I like it.”

  “She had a bit of an encounter with Joseph her first day,” Aunt Larry said.

  Chloe blushed again. She didn’t want to think about it.

  Mary had returned, however, and was looking at her with sympathy. “Was he horrible?” she asked.

  Chloe shrugged, wishing Aunt Larry had kept it to herself.

  “He’s not so bad,” Bill said. “He had a hard life. But it’s best if you just keep off his property if you can.”

  “Makes a bad name for the family,” Mary said before leaving again. Bill looked sad, however. Then, the mischief came back. He leaned toward Chloe and motioned for her to come closer, which she did.

  “Seen any ghosts yet?”

  She was so startled she stared at him. Meanwhile, Mary returned for more dishes and this time smacked him across the back of the head.

  “Bill! Don’t you fill that child’s head with stuff like that!” Her smile was an apology. “Don’t pay any attention to him, sweetie,” she said. “There aren’t any ghosts in the house.” She made a mad face at him before leaving with her third load.

  Bill ignored her and leaned closer. “Is too,” he said. “My brothers and I saw one, once, when we were your age.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “We used to dare each other to spend the night there, but no one would. Then, one night, we’re standing outside, right? In the yard below that little window in the old part of the house, you know, where Larry has that deck now?”

  She knew the window, all right.

  “So, there we were,” Bill’s voice got louder as all the kids stopped to listen, “fighting over who was going to stay and who wasn’t, when my brother Bobby lets out this horrible scream.” Everyone was staring at him, eyes wide. Mary came back f
rom the kitchen. This time she sighed as he went on. “We all look over at Bobby and he’s pointing up at the window. I was scared but I looked up, too.”

  “And?” Even Liam was caught up in it, and he was sixteen.

  “There was a face in the window,” Bill said, voice quiet so they all had to lean in to hear. “A boy’s face. It was staring. Right. At. Us.” As he spoke, he pointed at each of the kids, punctuating his words. Little Grace cuddled to Rebecca who sat down again.

  “What did you do?” the twins asked together, eyes huge.

  “We ran, of course,” Bill said, sitting up, voice back to normal. “Ran screaming like rabbits. Scared the bejesus out of me.”

  Chloe tried to fake amazement while Mary sliced a big chocolate cake.

  “Cool,” she said. “I’ll be sure to watch for him.”

  Bill looked at her, clearly shocked. Mary, however, laughed and handed Chloe a very large piece of cake. Then Bill laughed, too, and winked at her.

  “Any idea who he might be?” Chloe asked.

  Bill shook his head. “It’s just a story, Chloe,” he told her.

  She exchanged a look with Marsh. Maybe over the years his dad had managed to convince himself it was “just a story,” but they knew the story was true.

  Marsh cornered Chloe in the yard.

  “I swear I didn’t say anything to him,” he told her in a whisper, breathless with the effort to get the words out.

  “I know,” Chloe said. “Funny, though, isn’t it? I wonder how many other people saw him but won’t believe it.”

  “Did you see him again?” Marsh asked.

  “Last night,” Chloe said. She was about to tell him about the diary when she hesitated. She wanted to keep it to herself. The feeling went away, however. Chloe told him everything that had happened.

  Marsh was jumping up and down with excitement by the time she finished. “He didn’t say anything?”

  “No. But I’m reading the journal. It’s kind of hard, though. It’s damaged and I don’t want to wreck it.”