by Patti Larsen
“This is the best summer ever!” He hugged her before she knew he was going to, bumping her nose against his collarbone so hard it stung for a moment. “I’m so glad you’re here! I was sure this was going to be just another boring break, but this is awesome!” His face fell as he realized what he was saying. “I didn’t mean… sorry, Chloe.”
She was used to him by now and didn’t hold it against him. “It’s okay. I know what you meant.”
In typical Marsh fashion, he forgot all about it.
“Can I see it?” He started pulling on her arm. “Let’s go!”
Chloe held back, that same odd surge of desire to keep it private making her resist. She didn’t really have a reason for it. But the boy wanted her to have it. He hadn’t shown up for Marsh, after all, only her. But she knew Marsh might be able to help her figure out how to get more pages apart, so she went with him.
She waved at Aunt Larry in passing. “See you at home,” her aunt called after her. Marsh was already on his way to the field. Chloe found the path and followed.
She felt her excitement rising as they pounded their way through the house and to her room. She slipped the book out from under her pillow and held it up so Marsh could see. As she did, her parents’ photo slid from between the pages and fluttered to the floor. Chloe felt her face turning red as Marsh bent and picked it up. She wanted more than anything to snatch it back from him, but held herself still as he looked at it.
“They seem nice,” he said, handing it to her after a moment.
“Thanks,” she said. She tucked it back under her pillow, embarrassed that Marsh now knew part of her secret, but when she looked into his eyes he was smiling, which made her feel much better.
“Let’s have a look,” he said.
Chloe deposited the book in his eager hands. She was about to caution him to be careful of it, now fully aware of Marsh’s gung-ho nature, but didn’t have to. He used the tip of his finger to open the cover by one corner. He squinted at the picture and the handwriting.
“J. Who is J?” He flipped another page and winced as the paper crumbled. “It’s really old, huh?”
“1941,” Chloe said, pointing at the date.
“Maybe there’s more stuff where you found it!” He handed the book back to her.
The thought had crossed her mind but she hadn’t had a chance to check. She returned the journal to its hiding place under her pillow before following Marsh to the other end of the house.
He was taller than her so he was able to reach farther into the cubbyhole above the old stairs. Aside from the stub of a pencil, however, it was empty. Chloe slipped the pencil in her pocket with plans to keep it with the book. Marsh, excited by the find, did another thorough search of the room but came up empty. By the time they had finished, they were both disappointed.
“I’ll keep at it,” Chloe told him. “Find out who he was and what happened. Maybe the journal will have more clues.”
“He wanted you to have it for a reason,” Marsh agreed. “But one thing is sure. He lived here and that narrows down the possibilities.” His eyes lit up. “I know where we might be able to find him, too!”
“Where?” Chloe asked.
“The family graveyard!” He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”
Chloe didn’t like the sound of it. She had bad memories of the last graveyard she had been in. “Where is it?”
Marsh shuddered with a mix of fear and excitement. “That’s the only problem,” he said. “It’s on the other side of the fence, behind Joseph’s cottage.”
Chloe hesitated. She did not want to have another confrontation with that mean old man. The memory of him yelling at her was still fresh. But, the ghost boy needed her, didn’t he?
“A lot of families had their own plots in the old days,” Marsh told her. “They’re all over the Island. I’m not sure when they stopped using them, but maybe he’s there. If not, we could always check the church down the road. That’s where Gramps is buried.”
“Should we check there first?” She was nervous about risking it.
“The other one is closer,” he said. “Don’t worry. Joseph is pretty harmless. And we’ll go at night, after dark so he doesn’t see us. He won’t even know we were there. I know how to get to the house without being seen.”
“How?” Chloe asked.
He blushed, the red filling in his freckles. “Liam and the twins and I… we sometimes go over there at Halloween and, you know… trick.”
“No wonder he’s so cranky,” Chloe said. “You guys are mean.”
“No way!” Marsh defended himself. “He’s been that way forever, honest! Even my dad says so.”
They both jumped at the sound of the front door banging shut. Chloe heard Aunt Larry calling her name. They scrambled down the stairs and into the main part of the house before she could catch them upstairs.
“I’ll see you at eleven o’clock,” he whispered to her before dashing with a wave past Aunt Larry and out the door.
Chloe was so nervous that night she couldn’t eat dinner. Aunt Larry, it turned out, wasn’t hungry either, blaming it on the huge lunch they’d had, so Chloe was off the hook. She said an early good night to her aunt and retreated to her room and the book.
Chloe set the pencil on her vanity and went to work on the pages of the journal. She was about to give up when the last bit of resistance let go and all the sheets were free.
Eager to find out more, Chloe started to read.
December 27, 1941
M only wants to talk about Angus Morrison all the time. She keeps telling Momma she is in love with him and will die if he goes off to France with the other boys. I think she is being selfish. Those boys are fighting for our country against the evil Nazis. Everyone knows that. Even the Americans are getting in on it, now. I wish I was old enough to go too. I would kill more Nazis than anyone else.
December 29, 1941
J is mad at me again. It snowed so much the last few days that everything is covered in white. Poppa had a hard time getting the front door open after the storm. J didn’t want to help even though we had to get a way cleared so we could feed the cows. When I told him so, he told me to shut up and Momma got mad at him. Now he is being punished and he says it is my fault. My teacher, Miss T, told me that twins are supposed to be really close and the very best of friends. Why aren’t J and I?
Chloe continued to read. As time passed, J wrote less often, but there was at least one entry every week. She was fascinated by his life, living on the farm, helping his parents. They didn’t have electricity yet, being so far from the road.
March 17, 1941
Momma was complaining today to Poppa about how he still hasn’t completed the finishing work on the new part of the house. It is an old argument. Poppa’s insisted on finishing the widow cottage for Grammy first before he does anything else for Momma. That makes her blood boil since she thinks Poppa put his own mother ahead of all of us. And now that the war is on, it’s harder to get some things. Poppa told me this morning he is going to show me how to make nails out of old horseshoes.
I still like the old part of the house better. I like to write up here. It makes me feel like Gramps is still alive and remember that Poppa used to be young, like me.
Chloe had been feeling a connection between herself and J; it became stronger with every entry she read. By the time May rolled around in the diary, she felt like he was an old friend.
May 11, 1941
I had to stay home from school today and help Poppa with the fields. I didn’t want to but we all have to help out. Miss T says I am her best student and wants me to keep studying over the summer break. I would love to. She even thinks that I should go to university someday and maybe be a teacher or a doctor or something. It makes me happy to think that I could. I know Poppa would be di
sappointed if I didn’t farm like him but I love school!
Chloe found herself smiling. She liked school a lot, too. They had so much in common! For a time, reading his journal, she forgot that he was not only a ghost, but that he had lived seventy years ago, long before she was born.
May 12, 1941
J found this and showed it to Poppa. I am so angry! He didn’t have the right! Poppa said it was okay and punished J for taking my journal but now I feel terrible that he knows I don’t want to be a farmer. I have a new hiding place for it that J will never find. I wish he would just leave me alone!
Chloe did, too. How dare he? She read on through the diary. It soon became apparent that the mean J (as she had begun to think of him) did his best to make her J look or feel bad. Chloe found herself hating the other twin and commiserating with her friend over the bullying.
At last, Chloe came to July 14, 1941.
J tried to accuse me of stealing his yo-yo. Like I care about his stupid toy! He yelled at me and pushed me down in the yard. Poppa caught him, but J wouldn’t stop. He told Poppa I stole it but I didn’t. Poppa was mad at me! He thinks I’m lying when it’s J that’s lying! It’s not fair! If I do find his stupid yo-yo, I’ll throw it in the ocean and he’ll never see it again, ever!
There were several round watermarks on the page that had nothing to do with the other damage. Chloe realized they were left behind by his tears. She touched each of them with her fingertips before turning the page. There was nothing to see. The remaining pages, what few were left, were empty.
Chloe sat back, disappointed. She wanted more! And there was no clue here as to what had happened to J. She knew he must have died right after. With a start she looked at her calendar. It was July 12, two days before the entry. She shivered. She was reading his journal seventy years almost to the day of his death.
Frustrated, Chloe closed the book. As she did, she noticed the red numbers on her clock turn over to 10:30. Determined now to see it through, she put the book away and got ready to meet Marsh.
Chloe made sure she was extra quiet on her way out that night. She didn’t want Aunt Larry asking any more questions. Instead of waiting inside, she went ahead and snuck out the back door and onto the deck. The night was clear and warm like a hug. There was a light breeze, enough to ruffle her hair and make the trees whisper, but that was all. She sat in the dark and waited, lost in 1941.
Right at eleven o’clock, Marsh appeared around the back of the house. He was dressed all in black. Chloe tried not to laugh. He was acting weird, like he thought he was a spy or something. She stifled her giggle behind her hand as he crept up to her, looking this way and that as if he had been followed.
She got up and went to him while he continued to scope out the backyard.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Shhh!” he hissed at her. “No talking until we’re a safe distance. Never know who could be watching.” He slunk off into the night. Chloe, still amused, started after him. A flicker of light above her brought her to a halt. The boy was standing in the window, watching her. Chloe waved at him. He vanished.
Knowing she was doing what he wanted made her feel better. Chloe turned and plodded after Marsh. She caught up with him at the edge of the grass where he waited for her with obvious impatience. He moved off again, leaving her to follow. She had to hurry, knowing how fast Marsh moved, but needn’t have worried. He was so wrapped up in his game that he was going much more slowly, stopping to check imagined noises and make sure they hadn’t been followed. Chloe found it hilarious.
Once they were far enough away from the house, Marsh spoke up.
“Can’t be too careful,” he told her. “Spies everywhere. Need to keep this operation clean and professional.”
Chloe nodded in agreement. “Gotcha,” she said. “Now what?”
“We head for the back of Joseph’s place,” he said. “After I make sure the coast is clear.”
A thought occurred to her as they slunk through the night (him by choice, her because he would shoot looks at her if she didn’t).
“Why didn’t we ask your parents?” She felt kind of foolish as she realized how much easier it would have been. It was seventy years ago. They would know who the boy was.
Marsh shrugged, dropping out of character for a minute.
“More fun this way,” he said. “Besides, I’ve seen the stones. I know what we’re looking for. Follow me.” He went back to slinking.
Chloe was trying to decide if Island kids were more weird than cool. Her friends in Ottawa would never do anything like what she and Marsh were up to.
Chloe could see the fence up ahead in the glow coming from the cottage windows. Just on their side of it, Marsh grabbed her and hauled her into the grass where he crouched, watching Joseph’s place with an eagle eye.
“Have to wait for the lights to go out,” he said. Chloe found a comfortable spot and sat down. It wasn’t long before the leftover moisture in the grass wet through the seat of her jeans. And the mosquitoes were out. After a few minutes of slapping, Chloe was losing her enthusiasm for the whole adventure. Marsh, however, had thought of bugs and produced a small can of spray. After a liberal dose of the stuff, Chloe was no longer tormented by insects, but she was stinky. That coupled with her wet jeans made her wish she could just go home, but she decided to stay. J was worth it.
When Marsh produced a large chocolate bar from his jacket and gave her half, Chloe started warming back up to the idea. Especially when her stomach growled to remind her she had skipped dinner.
It seemed like forever that they sat there in the long, damp grass. Marsh kept lighting up his watch from one of the buttons on the side. Chloe tried not to focus on the time. Every time he turned it on, however, she couldn’t help herself. 11:12. 11:17. 11:25. The time dragged on and on. And her candy bar was a long-forgotten memory. She amused herself by wadding up bits of grass and mud and throwing them at Marsh. Every time she hit him, he would shoot her a look that made her want to laugh out loud. His attempts to shush her led to another packed ball tossed his way.
As his watch read 11:43, the light in the cottage went dark. Marsh made her wait another five minutes before parting the barbed wire and helping her through the fence. On the other side, she was surprised to find Marsh was starting to rub off on her. She felt like a secret agent or a treasure hunter in dangerous territory and decided it was cool after all.
Halfway to the cottage, they startled some birds nesting in the grass and had to hunch down, hearts pounding, to wait and see if the old man noticed. Chloe tried hard not to giggle but a few snorts escaped her. Marsh was grinning, his teeth shining in the faint light of the rising moon. The cottage remained dark and silent. After a bit of a wait they moved on.
Chloe’s sense of adventure followed her all the way to the tiny yard. They circled around away from the rusted old car and the small garden that faced Aunt Larry’s house. Marsh led her with complete confidence, again in silence, through the long grass toward the back of the property.
The backyard was full of old metal parts and machinery. Chloe was distracted by the sight, but when she drifted closer for a look, she found herself being pulled back on course by Marsh. Beyond that different kind of graveyard, they stumbled out of the tangle of long grass and into a small patch of tidiness. Chloe could just make out the stones in the darkness. She shivered next to Marsh as he eased open the small iron gate that was the only entry. The cemetery was surrounded by a short fence and was neat and tidy, unlike the rest of the property. Chloe eased through the open gate and cringed away from the very tall stone that leaned with age over the entry. She followed Marsh inside, being careful to shield her flashlight with her hand so that only the stones were illuminated.
After a few moments searching, she heard Marsh hiss at her. Chloe went to him and looked at the headstone he was lighting up with his own flashlight. Her heart skipped a beat
as she read the stone.
April 13, 1931 – July 14, 1941
Joshua Robert MacKenzie
Gone Too Soon
But Never Forgotten
Chloe felt tears well in her eyes. She reached out and touched the stone.
“He was our age,” Marsh said, doing the math.
Chloe knew that but didn’t know how.
“Joshua,” she said.
He appeared behind the stone in a glow of light. Marsh let out a yell and fell back, losing his flashlight in the grass. Chloe caught her breath, but wasn’t afraid. Joshua’s face was covered in tears as he looked down at his own grave, then back to her before vanishing.
She registered Marsh beside her as she pulled out a small notebook and jotted down the dates on the stone. Marsh suddenly started pulling on her arm, his flashlight now dead in his hand. She was aware then of the light behind her and turned to see the interior of the cottage lit up. She heard the screen door bang open and saw Joseph emerge. He had a shotgun.
“Who’s out there?” he roared into the night. Marsh pulled Chloe along to the gate and out into the long grass, staying as low as possible. Joseph was waving the gun around and shouting. “Show yourselves, you little varmints!”
Marsh wormed deeper into the grass and watched the old man. He flashed a grin at Chloe who found she wasn’t scared at all. She grinned back, feeling exhilarated, her mind going to Anne and the redhead’s bravery. Maybe some of what she had read of her fellow orphan had rubbed off.
Chloe and Marsh sat there for a long time, listening to Joseph yelling at them but knowing they were safe. The old man gave up and went back inside. Chloe could no longer hold in her giggles. She and Marsh laughed and laughed, as quietly as possible. Chloe clutched at her ribs as they started to ache, wiping at tears that squeezed from her eyes. Marsh was grunting little snorts of laughter, and kept slapping the ground with his hand.
When their adrenaline-fed humour ran out, Marsh led Chloe back to the fence and helped her through it. Safe on the other side, Marsh was enthusiastic.
