by Gilmour, SJB
The dear occupants of my house were numb. Scarred. It took them months to lose the jittery feeling every time they looked out my window at a car trundling down the dusty Soldiers Road. Their hopes and dreams of a peaceful, happy life out in the bush had been shattered into a million pieces of heartbreak.
Yet they recovered. Sally was able to resume her studies, although an entire season of research was rendered useless because she hadn’t been able to go out at night to track her spiders. The university gave her an extension, and even sent her a group of students every fortnight to assist her out on her moonlit forays into the fields and bush tracks.
Mitch’s column spiked in readership for a while, and extra pieces he wrote about the whole sordid affair brought in some very welcome extra funds, as well as some not-so-welcome publicity. The book he’d been working on was snapped up and rushed into publication by his publisher. He also received a hefty advance on the story of what had happened out here at Shiprock Falls.
By the following February, when Sally finally noticed she’d missed her period, the house was filled with a nervous happiness. Kelly Forbes, now Kelly Taylor, was almost beside herself at the prospect of being a big sister.
For these people, my family, life began to move on. Love and warmth radiated out from me for them, just as I’d planned it to for Ashleigh and me.
Still, there was a sadness I couldn’t shake. I don’t know when I noticed it, but it must have been around the same time Sally’s shaking hands held that little white plastic stick with two blue lines in its window for Mitch and Kelly to see.
The stains on my floor, wall and window were gone.
‘It means you’re free now,’ Mason advised me gently when we were alone. His usual annoyingly superior tone was gone. It was gentle and his eyes were kind. ‘You can move on, Eugenie.’
‘But I can’t,’ I wailed. ‘This place is my home! It’s me and I’m it… I can’t leave.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not yours, Eugenie.’ He looked around and gestured towards the hall. ‘Why, I bet if you tried now, you’d find you can move from this kitchen now. You’re free.’
I was aghast, but I was also curious. I moved my consciousness from my ceiling down into the middle of the kitchen and then drifted, slowly and nervously, towards the hall. I’d never been able to see it, but I knew where the barrier was. It was right there, at that line in the floor where my tiles met the polished hardwood.
It didn’t hurt. In fact, I didn’t feel a thing.
I’d done it! I was actually free from the kitchen. And, it terrified me. Instead of hurtling about, revelling in my new freedom, I dashed back into my cage as fast as I could.
‘See?’ Mason smiled in a fatherly way. I don’t know how, but he knew exactly where I was now. He looked straight at me.
‘But… But…’
‘I told you, the kitchen’s not yours, Eugenie. It never was. You just—’ He paused, searching for the right word. ‘—borrowed it for a while. Your job’s done. You don’t need it any more. Now you can choose.’
‘Choose? Choose what?’ I wept.
‘Why, to stay or go, of course.’ He waved out at the window. ‘You can go anywhere now. You can leave.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, I guess you could stay here if you want. One haunt is as good as another, I suppose. But the fact remains. Now you can choose to stay here on this earth, or move on.’
‘Like Alec did?’
He nodded.
I gazed out the window at Sally and Mitch as they pottered among the fruit trees. Further out, Kelly was carrying a roll of chicken wire I’d heard them tell her to use to create a pen for some goat kids. These people were my family now. As much as I’d hated being dead, and missed my Ashleigh, and as much as I so desperately wanted to see him again, I knew I loved these people too much to leave them.
‘I can’t do that, Mason. I can’t leave them. I’m staying right here.’
And I did.
About me
I live in Melbourne Australia with my wonderful wife and two fantastic daughters. I was raised in the family footwear business where I still work, but I’ve done a great deal besides. I’ve edited, researched, sub-edited and published. I’ve done a stint in the Royal Australian Navy, run a small café and pumped diesel at a bus depot. I’m a travel junkie, amateur birdwatcher and overall book and film nerd.
You can contact me: [email protected]
You can stalk me: http://www.facebook.com/pages/SJB-Gilmour/155373837870604
You can follow me on Twitter: @sjbgilmour
You can +1 me on Google +: https://plus.google.com/u/0/117902660405170807504/about
You can find my other books on Amazon here: http://www.amazon.com/SJB-Gilmour/e/B005321S10/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
Thanks
As always, my wonderful wife Anna has been my rock, my sounding-board, my alpha-reader, my long-suffering unpaid editor and adviser. She’s put up with my ramblings and vagaries and absent-mindedness while I’ve been far away in Eugenie’s world and still manages to tolerate me. I love her to pieces. I’m one lucky bloke.
Harris Channing created the cover art and I can’t recommend her highly enough. She was quick and easy to work with and absurdly patient with and indulging of this cantankerous scribbler. I’m sure she didn’t charge me anywhere near enough. Find her at: http://www.harrischanning.com
