Haunting Refrain

by Mary Marvella

  “Me, too, I don’t handle dark or close places well. And I could’ve gone for help.”

  “I know.” Sarah squeezed his hand.

  “Surely someone will come looking for us.” he rubbed his eyes, then massaged his temples.

  She dug in her pack again and pulled out the first aid kit and another bottle of water. After swallowing a pain pill she handed one to Peter.

  “Take this. It should take the edge off your pain.”

  “I’m glad you’re so prepared. Wouldn’t it be nice if we had some of our lunch down here?”

  “Sure, all the comforts of home. I have other good stuff, though.” She unfolded two of the thinnest blankets she had ever seen. She groaned as she leaned over to wrap one around Peter.

  “Tell me about your childhood. We have to keep each other awake. You most likely are concussed and one or both of us may be in shock.”

  “You have a point, but tales of my boring childhood would make you want to sleep.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Mattie whisked Eloise and herself away again, this time to William’s house. One second they were thinking about William and the next they were in his house, regaining their human forms.

  William glanced up from his mother’s journal. This one had been written a year after her wedding. She had written about her beautiful baby boy and the happiness she and her husband shared. What could have happened?

  Something about the atmosphere of his mom’s room changed. The air around him felt like an electrical storm had begun inside his house. A soft, floral scent wrapped around him as it had when he’s sat down on the feminine bed to read. This scent seemed more natural, like wild flowers. Too weird. He turned the journal page, trying to ignore the feeling that could only have been caused by his imagination.

  “Cousin Walter!” He thought he heard a feminine voice calling him, Walter. Not likely!

  “William, look at me!”

  That he definitely heard. “Where are you? I can’t see you.” He had actually spoken to a disembodied voice. What next?

  “William, Sarah needs you.”

  “Look whoever you are, stop playing games.” He felt heat wash over his face. “I don’t know how you planted a tape recorder in my house or piped in the sound, but I don’t like this game.”

  The wild flower scent wrapped around him, stronger, tighter. Unseen hands touched his face and tilted it, holding him still.

  “Look at me, look at your cousin Mattie. See me.”

  He felt his heart still in his chest, his breath caught as a shimmering image formed before his very eyes. He closed his eyes, then opened them again to see the face slowly materialize. Walter had not seen this face for so long, but he knew the eyes that beseeched him to attend her words.

  “What – “ He forced the word past the lump in his throat? A month ago William would have signed himself up for therapy or medication or both after seeing such a sight.

  He reached up to touch the face. “What is it, Cousin?” he asked.

  Cousin Mattie spoke slowly. “Sarah went to the plantation with Peter Jackson.”

  “What the hell has he done to her?” William shouted.

  Mattie leaned back from him. “He hasn’t done anything. They were inside the house and fell down the stairs to the cellar.”

  William rose, passing through Mattie’s form in his haste. He turned back to her. “Sorry.”

  “It does not matter. But you must get to her. Tell her mama and get someone to administer help.”

  “How badly is she injured?” He left the memory-laden room, hoping Sarah’s ghosts would follow as he prepared to leave for the plantation.

  In his room he grabbed shoes and a shirt to cover his tee shirt. “Is Sarah conscious?” he asked as he slid his wallet into his back pocket.

  “Yes, she hurt her leg and her shoulder and Peter’s vision is blurry.”

  “Probably a concussion. Either could be in shock.” William snatched up his car keys and his cell phone. “Have you told Mrs. Overby?” he asked.

  “No, Eloise wrote her a message before we found Sarah.”

  He stopped with his hand on the back doorknob. “Who did what?” Everything was happening too quickly. He was having a conversation with a ghost like he did it every day.

  Mattie touched his shirtsleeve. “I sensed Sarah was in danger and we tried to tell her mama. She couldn’t see or hear us so Eloise wrote the words before we went to Sarah.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, I thought of her and we just went as we came to you.”

  The phone rang. He didn’t stop to answer it, instead he raced across his back yard and into Sarah’s. He’d been so deep in thought he had ignored the ringing earlier. What if Sarah had tried to call him? What if Mrs. O had tried to reach him to ask for help?

  This time he didn’t knock on the Overby’s door. He raced inside and found Mrs. O holding the phone.

  He saw Mattie beside him, but he had no idea how she got there. Had she followed him or just poofed herself here?

  His neighbor put the handset down and hurried to him. “I’ve been trying to call you. Sarah’s in trouble.” She showed him the pad and the words a ghost had written. “My husband’s in surgery for at least the next hour and I didn’t know whom to call for an ambulance or the police department.” She grabbed his arm. “I couldn’t even call the fire department. I don’t know how to tell them where she is.”

  He hugged her hard to offer her comfort and take some for himself. “I’m on my way there. Grab your mobile and some blankets and come with me. You can call while I drive. Does Sarah have a first aid kit?”

  “Of course, she’s our Sarah. I tried to call her cell but I got the not available message.”

  “It figures. Out of range.”

  His future mother-in-law grabbed her purse and phone and several blankets and followed him to his car. If the workmen had arrived this morning, as he had requested, he should be able to drive to the old house without ruining his car. He had driven blocks down the street before he remembered he’d left the ghost or ghosts behind. It couldn’t be helped.

  He handed his passenger a note pad and a pen. “Please call information and ask for Creation Community General Store.” He raced through yellow lights on the way out of town. “Maybe in the Macon or Byron or Cochran area?”

  It wasn’t in any of those areas, of course. He kept his eyes on the road and passed log trucks, tractors, and other slower traffic. Though he slowed some for Reduced Speed zones he had to pray no local police or highway patrol cars watched for speeders because he still drove above the posted limits.

  He listened as Mrs. O quizzed the operator until she had a likely phone number. It was in the right area code. She called the number, then handed her phone to him.

  By the time he had explained the situation he was nearly at the creation four-way stop.

  “Don’t you worry, son. Sheriff’ll be on his way to the house, with a deputy, and we’ll have the four-way open for you. My boy’s callin’ the doctor and an ambulance. You may beat it there, though. It has a good ways to come, but Miz Sarah will be in good hands.”

  Within minutes the Creation sign was within sight. “William, aren’t you even gonna slow down?”

  His grin felt grim. A general store owner had given him permission to speed through a town and he’d accepted the old man’s authority.

  “No ma’am. We’re expected.” If he hadn’t been so worried he’d have waved at the people lining both sides of the four-way. Thank goodness they weren’t on the road to slow him.

  He half listened as Sarah’s mama made one last call to her husband, explaining she might not be able to call from the plantation. She’d get back as soon as she could.

  They’d make it to Sarah in barely an hour, or sooner. By the time he pulled onto the gravel road his passenger was silent and grimacing. “Sorry.” He slowed but not enough to soften the bumps. He remember
ed a time when the roads had all been rough. He fought a Walter memory about the last time he had raced in a wagon with his wife in early labor and bleeding to death. Oh, God, could he go back into that house with so much grief?

  He wouldn’t think about anything but Sarah and finding

  her. The place looked more hospitable as he turned into the driveway. When he glanced in the rearview mirror he noticed flashing lights behind him. They slowed down even less.

  William didn’t wait to open the door for Mrs. Overby or close his own as he raced toward the porch steps, taking two at a time. He raced through the open door into an empty room, startled. He had expected to see the tables and chairs and the deacon’s benches flanking the wide stairs. He missed the coat and hat racks, anything that made the room personal, lived in.

  Late-afternoon light poured in through the windows. Mattie appeared at the open door under the wide foyer stairs. “Down there,” she said.

  He nearly ran through her.

  “Stop or you will join Sarah and Peter on the floor.”

  William stopped. “What?”

  “They fell through a bad step. Watch where you go.”

  He remembered the hidden room under the stairs and how dark it could be. He stepped into dark room, feeling his way.

  “Sarah!” he called.

  “Down here. But don’t come without a light.”

  He pulled his tiny pen light from his pocket. He hadn’t thought to get a flashlight from the car. How stupid could he be? Should he go back to the car? Sarah certainly couldn’t go anywhere. He turned to go back, but Sarah’s mom and a large man in uniform walked through the front door.

  They both carried blankets and flashlights.

  “We’re on the way, Princess. We’ll have you out in no time,” he called. He hadn’t thought about how he’d get to Sarah and bring her out.

  The sheriff was leaps ahead of the professor and the doctor’s wife. He hefted a large pack from his beefy shoulder and dropped it to the floor. When he pulled out a rope ladder, William sent up a prayer of thanks. The expert rescuer assembled two body slings.

  The uniformed man’s voice rumbled. “Come on, folks, let’s see what we need.” He set out emergency lights as he moved ahead through the small room. William helped him attach the rope ladder and ropes to lower rescue equipment.

  Mattie and Eloise appeared beside Sarah. “We brought him.”

  “I thought I heard a siren before you got here.”

  They shrugged.

  William backed down a rope ladder and Sarah forgot everything else. He was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. Great butt and all. “Omigod, William!” Sarah tried to rise and launch herself at her professor. He’d come to her rescue. “Ouch!” she muttered, as she crumpled on her bad leg. Her hero, big, broad shouldered, wonderful.

  He knelt to hug her. “Oh, sweetheart, is something broken?” He ran his hands over her, feeling, she supposed, for broken bones. He shone his penlight in her eyes.

  “I’m fine,” she said as she ducked. “We’d better get help for Peter first. His vision is blurred and I can’t keep him awake. I think he’s worse off than I am.”

  A large man in a Sheriff’s uniform descended the rope ladder and crouched beside Peter. When he raised Peter’s lids and shone a small penlight at him, a groan said Peter was at least conscious. Sarah watched the practiced deft moves as the lawman assessed the injuries.

  “He goes first. EMT’s are on the way from the county hospital.” He placed a ring around Peter’s neck. By the time it inflated he had secured the injured man’s body, then moved him onto a large, sling-like contraption.

  William stood and steadied the ropes as the sheriff climbed up the stairs and pulled Peter up. Sirens rent the country evening quiet.

  “You’re next. Or we can wait here ’til they stabilize Peter upstairs. They can send someone down to check you.”

  “No way I’m waitin’. Take me up, please.” He strapped Sarah into a harness so he could raise her.

  By the time William had her ready the sheriff’s booming voice called. “I’ll pull the ropes and you can follow the young lady up here."

  William climbed the ladder, making sure Sarah didn’t swing against the staircase. “You’re going to be fine, Princess.”

  Sarah would have limped back into the foyer but William picked her and carried her. She enjoyed each second of his support, of leaning against his muscled chest, of drawing in his scent with each breath. He made her feel like a princess and always had.

  “Sarah, baby.” Her mother hurried toward her!

  ”Mama? What’re you doing here?”

  “I came with William. Your ghosts sent us to you.”

  “You came without Daddy?”

  “I couldn’t reach him. He was in surgery when we left. He’s on his way, now. The sheriff let me radio him from the police car. Wasn’t that nice?”

  William kept moving as her mom followed them out the door and across the porch. Who could have predicted there would be an ambulance and a sheriff’s car lighting the deserted old place with their sirens and strobe lights? Other cars and trucks had parked, providing more headlights. An EMT stuck his head from the ambulance. “Guy in here keeps asking if Sarah’s okay?”

  “Tell him yes, and we’re following you to the hospital.”

  William added. “You’ll see a doctor when we get there.”

  Her mom settled in the back seat and he adjusted the passenger seat so Sarah could stretch out and rest.”

  Sarah laughed when William and her mom told her about their experiences with the ghosts.

  “Your ghosts interrupted my work this afternoon. One dropped my coffee cup but I couldn’t see either one. When my pad and pencil moved I knew they were trying to tell me something. Eloise wrote me a note and signed it. She said you were in danger here.”

  “A real ghost writer.” Sarah tried to look back at her mom. That hurt.

  A phone chirped. Her mom answered it, assuring her dad that their child was safe. She handed the phone to Sarah.

  “I’m okay, Daddy. We’re all on our way to the county hospital. I’m sure Peter’s injuries are worse than mine. William and Mama insisted I need a checkup, too.”

  She handed the phone to William who explained where they were headed so far. When he passed the phone back to her mom Sarah remembered her own phone and the backpacks.

  “What about my backpacks and my car?”

  “A young deputy got everything from the cellar and is driving your car.”

  “But what about my keys?”

  “Honey, if he can’t figure which key works, he’ll hotwire your car.”

  Something else hung at the edge of her memory but she couldn’t grasp it. There was something she needed to mention to William, but what?

  By the time Sarah and her family left for home hours later, she had been probed and ex-rayed and declared bruised with some sprained parts, but fine otherwise.

  They left Peter in care of the Jackson clan. They had arrived in droves. Some had Peter’s blond good looks, while others looked less sophisticated. They all had one thing in common. They showed concern for each other. Well, they also said very little to Sarah’s family.

  ##

  Sarah said little for the first half hour on the way home. There were so many things William wanted to tell her.

  “Do you suppose the county’s looking for a buyer for the plantation house?” she asked, shifting to get more comfortable.

  “Why?”

  “Someone was working on the grounds and the drive today. Don’t suppose someone bought it for back-taxes?”

  “Could be,” He glanced at her. “Would that bother you?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. There are so many memories.”

  “Would you like to spend more time there?”

  He seemed awfully strange tonight. “William? What do you suppose is the asking price for the plantation?”

  He shrugged. “Not as much as you
’d expect.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I checked.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I bought the place.”

  She sat up, wincing in pain. “You did what?”

  “I bought it for a song. I couldn’t resist it.”

  “Planning to sell your parents’ house?”

  “I hadn’t thought that far.”

  “Oh,” Sarah turned and looked out the window. “so it’s an investment.”

  They had crossed the city limits of home. He stopped at a red light. “I bought the house that belonged to Sarita and Walter. I thought you'd want to live there after we’re married.”

  “Didn’t it occur to you to ask me what I want?”

  “Are you saying you don’t want the house?”

  William pulled into his driveway as her parents pulled into theirs’. “I’m saying you must stop making decisions for me. How can we know if the house has more memories, more sadness than we can bear?”

  “I walked into a room this afternoon and saw myself, I mean Sarita, die in childbirth.”

  He hurried around the car and leaned inside to take her in his arms. “On, Princess, I felt the pain when I walked in the house tonight. I think we need to face our pain there whether we stay there or not.”

  “You cannot make decisions for me. We must make decisions together, about marriage, buying houses, about big things, things that effect our future.”