The Ghost of Graylock

by Dan Poblocki

  Everything changed when, one night, Rick came home late, missing dinner. He explained to his family that he’d met with a casting agent that afternoon in New York City. From the coldness that filled their house over the next few weeks, Neil understood that what was happening between his parents was not merely about acting. Months later, that same agent convinced Rick that Los Angeles was where he needed to be.

  Neil believed that everything that had happened since his father went away — this Nurse Janet nonsense included — was his father’s fault. The fact that Bree wouldn’t admit it was a poison cherry on top of an already toxic sundae. Neil knew what Bree was thinking: Dad is the only sane parent we have left. But, Neil wondered, what kind of sane person would leave his family suffering on one side of a continent to go off and pursue a fantasy on the other?

  Someone knocked on the bathroom door, snapping Neil back to reality. “We’re heading out soon!” It was Claire.

  The shower was all steam now. Neil glanced down at his fingertips. They were pruning. “Sorry!” Neil called out, beginning to rinse what was left of the shampoo suds from his hair frantically. “Gimme a minute!” Soapy white residue coated the surface of the water, which had risen halfway up his calves. Neil turned off the faucet, and the water slowed to a trickle from the spout. He swung the shower curtain open and reached for his towel, hanging on a nearby hook.

  Wiping his face, Neil felt something brush against his leg. Glancing down at the water, he noticed a ripple of minuscule waves bouncing off the far side of the basin, but the disturbance quieted as quickly as it had begun. The opaque water was difficult to see through, even when Neil bent over to get a closer look.

  Something long, thin, and dark squirmed just below the surface.

  Neil stood quickly, scrambling to leap from the water. His feet slipped out from under him. His knee hit the edge of the tub, and he toppled to the bathroom floor with a resounding crash. The plush purple bath mat broke his fall, but it didn’t stop Claire from rushing back upstairs.

  She pounded on the door. “Neil! Are you okay?”

  Neil’s left shoulder and hip pulsed with a dull pain. He kneeled, his brain scanning the rest of his body. “I tripped,” he said, when he was sure he hadn’t broken any bones. “Sorry, Aunt Claire.”

  He cautiously peered over the edge of the tub. The water had dropped a couple inches and had cleared a bit. The bottom of the basin appeared to be empty. Whatever he’d seen moments ago had either been in his imagination, or had slipped down the drain.

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  He almost called out to tell Claire what he’d just seen, but the previous night’s conversation rose up in his memory. I’m beginning to wonder if they wouldn’t be better off with my brother in Jersey City. He didn’t want to worry her any more than he already had. “I’m fine.” He wrapped the towel around him, swiftly wiping away the water that still clung to his skin.

  “For goodness’ sake, be careful.”

  By the time Neil was dry, the tub had fully emptied, and he forced himself to peer into the drain itself. The hole lacked a catch-all filter, so he was able to see directly into the pipe below. The water level hovered a few inches down, as if something was, in fact, keeping it from sinking. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Neil reached down. Sticking his finger into the opening, he felt something slimy. Somewhat fuzzy, like a hair clog. Gross, yet familiar.

  He managed to catch part of it. He pulled. What came out of the hole made Neil feel faint — a long piece of dark green weed. The kind he’d dreamed about the night before. He dropped it into the tub, where it landed with a disheartening splat.

  Slipping quickly into his clothes, Neil went out into the hallway. “Aunt Claire? Aunt Anna?” he called out. Moments later, Claire peeked out from her bedroom door. “Can you come here?” he asked.

  Neil turned around and swung the bathroom door wide. “There was another piece of lake grass. This time in the tub. I thought you should —” But, of course, the tub was now empty. Of course. Claire raised an eyebrow, and Neil’s skin prickled with embarrassment. The feeling reminded him of waking from the nightmare the night before. “Sorry,” he said quickly, hoping he hadn’t just made things worse for himself. “I guess I’m seeing things.”

  NEIL AND BREE RODE SILENTLY in the backseat of Claire’s car as she drove into Hedston. He did not speak of the bathroom again. When they arrived, the pie shop employees greeted them with enthusiasm. Neil asked Claire if he could use the shop’s phone.

  An hour later, Wesley arrived on his bike. The boys sat on the curb out front. Neil told him about the lake weed appearing and then disappearing. “I’m getting sort of jealous,” said Wesley. “Why hasn’t anything strange happened to me or Eric?”

  “You want strange?” Neil raised an eyebrow. “You can have some of mine. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

  Wesley kicked a pebble into a nearby storm drain. “You guys can stay at my house if you want. We don’t have a lot of room, but I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind.”

  “This isn’t about our house.” Neil smacked Wesley’s knee. “It’s about me and Bree. Besides, your mom doesn’t even know us.”

  “I told her about you, though. She thinks it’s great that we’re hanging out. Other kids in this town … well, let’s just say they think I’m a little weird.”

  Neil managed to laugh. “Only a little?”

  Wesley thought about it, then he laughed too. “Yeah. They haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “Everyone can be weird if you watch them long enough.”

  A loud engine rumble echoed from around the shop. Seconds later, a large pickup truck roared out of Jameson Way — the thin, alley-like road at the nearest corner — and screeched to a halt in front of them.

  Neil pulled his feet out of the front tires’ path just in time. He was about to shout a piece of his mind, when a familiar face peered down at him from the driver’s window.

  “Whoa, there,” said Andy. “Almost gotcha! Sorry!”

  Immediately, Neil felt bad for what he’d been thinking. Andy opened the door and stepped onto the curb. He held out both hands to the boys and helped them up. “Neil,” he said, shaking his head in what appeared to be astonishment. “You’re just the person I was looking for. And here I was about to run you over!” He pressed his lips together, sheepish. “Don’t tell your aunts. They’ll torture me.” He nodded hello at Wesley. Wesley nodded back.

  “I won’t say a word,” said Neil, smiling slightly. “You were looking for me?”

  “I feel awful about the other night,” said Andy. “At the party.” Neil felt his lungs tighten. “I know you heard us all talking…. I wanted to apologize.” Neil didn’t say a word. “Whatever is going on with your parents —” Andy stopped himself and glanced uncertainly at Wesley. “Your personal life is none of my business.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulled out a scrap of paper, and handed it to Neil. “But, having gone through something similar with my own family, I wanted to let you know that if you ever wanted someone to talk to, you know, someone other than your aunts, you can always call me.” Neil opened the note to find that Andy had written his phone number. Andy really had been looking for him, and he’d come prepared. Neil felt his face flush. “I can meet you here. Anytime.”

  “Thanks,” Neil heard himself say. He folded up the piece of paper and tucked it into the pocket of his shorts. “That’s really … nice of you.”

  “I hope I’m not stepping on toes. I’m just close by, that’s all.” There was something in this old man’s eyes, something sad, that reminded him of his family. It was the kind of thing he’d wished his father had said to him back when he was still around.

  Neil glanced down at his sneakers. “My toes are fine.” Wesley laughed nervously.

  Andy smiled, and then reached out for the café door. Holding it open for them, he said, “Now if I don’t get some coffee in my stomach soon, you guys will see me turn into a monst
er. Not pretty. Trust me.”

  AFTER ANDY TOOK HIS EXTRA-LARGE CUP TO GO, the boys asked Claire if they could borrow her computer. They didn’t mention that they planned on looking up as much as they could about the history of Graylock.

  “I need to place some orders for the shop,” said Claire. “But your sister is heading over to the library. You guys can use the computers there instead. If you’re back around one, I’ll make you some lunch.” She didn’t even hint that Neil’s bathtub stunt that morning had freaked her out. Maybe he was in the clear?

  Bree insisted on walking five steps ahead of them. She hadn’t said a word to Neil since their fight about their father. Yes, he wanted her help, but if she was so intent on leaving behind the haunts of Hedston, Neil couldn’t force her. Let her read her romance novels. He and Wesley had work to do.

  The library was a few blocks ahead. It sat across the street from the expansive hillside view where Neil had first experienced Wesley’s Green Man. One story tall, the building had been constructed in the nineteen thirties from local stone of varying size and color. It reminded Neil of a life-sized gingerbread house in a fairy tale. He wondered how the town managed to fit an entire collection of books inside.

  As if reading his mind, Wesley said, “There’s a big basement. Totally creepy. The computers are down there.”

  “Great,” said Bree, over her shoulder. “That’s exactly where I won’t be.”

  As a car came up the street from behind them, the trio moved farther away from the road. The small red hatchback slowed as it passed them, and someone shouted from the open window, “Hey look! Two freaks and a geek!” Then the car sped off, burping out a lick of grayish exhaust.

  “Eat dirt!” Wesley stepped forward and shouted. After the sputter of the engine disappeared past the top of the hill, Wesley realized that both Neil and Bree were staring at him in confusion. “Members of my brother’s band,” Wesley explained. “They’ve been harassing us the past few days.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Bree, looking truly concerned. “Is Eric okay?”

  “Eric seems to be handling it fine,” said Wesley. “And, uh, I am too, in case you were wondering.” He raised an eyebrow, and Bree blushed. “Just gotta stand up for ourselves a little more now. But that’s all right. I’m used to it even if Eric isn’t.”

  “What happened between them? Eric and the band, I mean,” Neil asked.

  “I’m sure it had something to do with a girl,” Wesley said, rolling his eyes. “It always does.”

  Bree cleared her throat and pulled a loose strand of hair behind her ears. “Well,” she said in a strange, businesslike tone, “I hope he’s able to sort it out.”

  “Yeah, me too,” said Wesley. “I’m all for prank phone calls and everything, but not when I’m the one who’s getting them. I mean, I know what me and Eric are dealing with is nothing compared to the scary stuff that’s been happening to you guys, but —”

  Bree cut him off with a deathly glance that told him she didn’t want to talk about it. “Let’s just go.”

  Once they reached the library steps, Neil said, “The one question I have is: Who of us are the freaks, and which one’s the geek?”

  “Personally?” said Wesley, taking two steps at a time. “I’d be proud to be called either.”

  THE LIBRARY WAS COOL AND DARK, the exact opposite of the day they’d left behind outside. A circular wooden desk sat in front of the main entrance; a sign directed patrons to approach at the right for returns, and to check out on the opposite side. A young man sitting at the front looked up from a book he’d been reading. “Hi, Wesley,” he said, smiling. He wore a rumpled, collared shirt and a too-short tie, looking as if he’d raided his grandfather’s wardrobe.

  “Hi, Jay. These are my friends Neil and Bree. They’re visiting from New Jersey.”

  “Welcome to Hedston,” said Jay the librarian, in a way that hinted there was no way to feel welcome in this town. “Try to make yourselves comfortable.”

  “We’re heading down to the computers,” said Wesley, grabbing Neil’s elbow. “Maybe you can tell Bree where to find the romance novels.”

  Bree’s eyes went wide with embarrassment. “Or anything really,” she said quickly.

  “Fiction’s over there,” said Jay, nodding toward the shelves near the back windows.

  Bree whispered to the boys, “Come get me when you guys are done. Aunt Claire gave me her library card, Neil, so if there’s a book you need, we can check out together.”

  On the lower level, two computers sat on a table behind the staircase. The room was damp and the lights were dim. There were no windows, just the building’s stone foundation. Every few seconds, a squeak rose from a corner of the room. Someone was pushing a cart, reshelving books. Otherwise, the boys seemed to have the entire floor to themselves.

  Thump!

  The cart must have crashed into one of the bookshelves. A soft voice said, “Excuse me.” Neil didn’t know if the person speaking was talking to them or to the books.

  “Let’s look her up, then,” said Wesley.

  “Who?”

  “Who else? Nurse Janet!”

  But a quick Internet search didn’t give them much of a return: several options for Janet Reillys, but none were nurses and none were in Hedston.

  “Weird,” said Neil. “You’d think someone would have posted something about the legend somewhere.”

  Wesley modified the search — he tried adding the words Graylock Hall, murders, suicide. Still, the search engine refused to cooperate.

  “This is so strange,” said Wesley. “According to the Interwebs, the Nurse Janet lady never existed.”

  “Oh, she existed, all right,” said a voice from behind them.

  The boys spun their chairs to find a tall, thin woman standing over them. She was dressed in a black jersey dress that was coated with strands of long white cat fuzz. Her gray hair was tied loosely into a lopsided bun on top of her head. Neil thought she looked familiar but didn’t know why.

  “In fact, she exists still,” the woman went on, folding her arms, revealing sharp, red fingernails. “Despite the tall tales folks in this town tell, Nurse Janet Reilly is very much alive.”

  “WE WON’T TELL,” SAID WESLEY QUICKLY. “Promise.”

  The woman stared at the boys in shock.

  Neil closed his eyes, mortified.

  The woman spoke. “You think that I …?” Then she began to laugh. She laughed so hard, she doubled over, hitching silent gasps before snorting loudly, which sent her into another round of high-pitched giggles. When she found the breath to speak again, she said, “I’m not Janet. Never have been and never will be. I’m Gladys. We met at the party?” Neil nodded. “When I’m not taking classes from your Aunt Anna, I volunteer here at the library. Keeps me cool.” Gladys smiled. “Being mistaken for Mrs. Reilly isn’t the worst thing people have thought of me. Living in a small town like this, you can make enemies fairly quickly. Folks love to talk. I assume that’s how the rumors of poor Janet started.”

  “She’s still alive?” Neil said in disbelief.

  This changed everything. The nightly visitor. The dream of drowning. The woman in white at the playground. If it wasn’t the ghost of Nurse Janet, then who or what was it?

  Finding his voice again, Wesley asked, “Can you tell us anything about her?”

  “I never met the woman myself. She was a friend of my older sister.” Gladys shoved the long, black sleeves of her dress up her bony forearms, looking serious, as if she had been waiting to set the record straight for quite some time. “I know the stories the kids tell in the school hallways. My nieces and nephews used to insist that Janet Reilly was the boogeywoman of Hedston, a vengeful spirit who would haunt trespassers at the asylum in the woods. I think they just liked to scare one another at slumber parties. They refused to listen to the truth.”

  “Those stories are still around,” said Neil, glancing harshly at Wesley, who shrugged apologetically.

&
nbsp; “It’s all very dramatic.” Gladys nodded. “And everyone loves a good spook. No? The truth of the matter is quite simple. There were several drownings out at Graylock. The state investigated. They shut the place down. Many people lost their jobs. Yes, there was some suspicion placed on the staff who worked in the youth ward. But nothing was ever proven. Janet Reilly left this town in a smoke screen of accusation. Folks were so angry that she was able to simply walk away, it’s no wonder they demonized her. Poor old thing.”

  “But what if she was guilty?” asked Wesley.

  “That’s not really for us to decide, is it?” said Gladys. “She was never charged with a crime.”

  Wesley said, “But that doesn’t mean —”

  “Do you know where we can find her?” Neil interrupted. “Talk to her maybe?”

  Gladys flinched, surprised. “Now why would you want to go and do a thing like that?” Neil and Wesley looked at each other, silently trying to come up with an answer that would satisfy her. But Gladys only rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know you boys went out to Graylock Hall this week. No need to lie to old Gladys. I was young once too. You’re curious about the ghost story. You want to ask Janet yourself?”

  Neil’s cheeks flushed, but he nodded anyway. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  Gladys shrugged, teasing, pushing her book cart back into the shadows. The wheels whined in dismay. “There’s a retirement home several miles north,” she said. “Whispering Knoll, I think it’s called. Mrs. Reilly lives there. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

  AFTER LOOKING UP THE RETIREMENT HOME’S PHONE NUMBER, the boys closed out of the Internet and made their way back upstairs.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Jay asked, still sitting behind the circular desk, his book in hand.