The Haunting of Josiah Kash

by Dana Pratola

  “Want you to know we’re all praying for you,” Barry said. “Pastor Swift’s corralling a crew of prayer warriors. They’re lookin’ to stop over sometime tomorrow.”

  Wait, Pastor Swift knew Josiah, too? I’d never seen him in church. Though I was relatively new, only attending the last two years. Maybe he went on Wednesday nights or first service on Sunday when I wasn’t there.

  “I wish he wouldn’t do that,” Josiah said.

  “You know how the women are. Once they climb in Pastor’s ear, well….” Barry chuckled.

  “Come on, it’s a good thing,” Ben said. “You know church ladies means they’re bringing food.”

  “Well, I appreciate it,” Josiah said. “But there’s no need for them to make a pilgrimage here. God knows where I am.”

  He added a chuckle of his own, but I sensed he wasn’t pleased at all. My heart gave a sympathetic tug. On the surface he was trying not to inconvenience anyone, but I heard the underlying meaning. He didn’t want people to see him that way.

  “I’ll pass that along,” Barry said. “Anything I can do while I’m here?”

  “No, no thanks, Barry. I think I have everything I’ll need.”

  “Okay then, I’ll head back. Weather says there may be more rain later and I can’t attest to how sound this roof is. Try not to get dripped on.”

  The men said their goodbyes and it sounded like Josiah and Ben settled in the parlor, so I cracked the door open to hear better.

  “You’ve got to stop the swarm from coming tomorrow,” Josiah said.

  “How’m I going to stop them?”

  “I don’t know. They’re your people, talk to them.”

  “They’re your people too.”

  “I don’t mingle,” Josiah said. “I sit through a sermon on occasion, pay my tithe, help out around the property, yeah, but you … you speak the lingo. You’re one of them.”

  Ben laughed. “I see what’s going on, I get it. You don’t want them to pity you.”

  They were obviously close and I was glad to see Ben’s compassion. I’d already seen he was reliable. Josiah didn’t reply.

  “I better take a look around while I’m here,” Ben said.

  My heart skipped several beats, then rioted off, thudding into my throat.

  “For what?” Josiah asked.

  “The windows were open when I got here. Barry never came, that means someone else opened them. They were shut when I buzzed past the other day to see the place.”

  It had to have been when I was at work. I always closed the windows if I knew I wouldn’t be here.

  Someone snapped their fingers.

  “Ah, you know what?” Ben started. “It must’ve been the Realtor. She must’ve come by to ready the place. Air it out.” He paused. “What? What’s that look?”

  “I thought I heard something earlier, that’s all.”

  “What did you hear?” Ben asked.

  Josiah’s tone said he was trying to play it off. Ben wasn’t buying it and neither was I. Apparently my presence disturbed him more than I’d thought.

  “I don’t know, just … a sound. Like plastic or cellophane, something like that. Twice.”

  “Where?”

  “Once in the kitchen, then again upstairs. I think. Probably the breeze moving something around.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Ben agreed. “Or mice.”

  “You’re sure the windows were closed?” Josiah asked.

  “Positive.”

  “Well, could be the house is haunted, like I said.”

  Ben chuckled. “Is that why you turned all the lights on?” He paused. “It was you, right?” he asked, in a spooky tone.

  “Funny. Just leave them on.”

  “Okay. It’s highly unlikely you’re being haunted, but I’ll check it out.”

  Footsteps approached, then moved away, like Ben was on his way to the kitchen. How long before he noticed this closet and gave it a quick peek inside? I had to get out of here! I opened the door to listen. It sounded like he was starting his search at the back of the house. I saw Josiah on the couch and stepped out hesitantly. Now I had nowhere to hide.

  If I went to my room, Ben would definitely try to get in. If I stayed inside, it would only be a matter of time before he found me. If I went outside, the chance he would see me out one of the windows was great. Aside from the big tree at the side of the house, there was nothing to hide behind. I was absolutely not going into the attic crawl space.

  I made up my mind in a split second, rounded the newel post and quietly hurried up the staircase. Realistically, Ben would come up to try the door. Finding it locked, he might try to force it open, and if he succeeded, I would be found out. Though, it wasn’t his house, so he might not want to cause damage, and leave the door be.

  I locked myself in, carefully moving the snack bags, making sure they were against the wall where I couldn’t accidentally kick them and make noise. Then I waited.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ben finished his first-floor inspection, then headed upstairs. I didn’t think he’d find anything, but I heard him stop at the landing.

  “Hmm. That’s weird.”

  “What’s weird?” I called up.

  “Hold on.”

  I followed his progress by the squeak of knobs turning, the creak of doors opening and closing, while I sat there rubbing my hands slowly together—because there was nothing else to do—until his footsteps faded overhead.

  “No one’s here. That I can see, anyway,” he said, coming back into the parlor.

  “What do you mean, that you can see?”

  “You know, no people.” He cleared his throat.

  “What’s weird?” I asked.

  He paused. “I’m almost certain that bedroom door to the left of the bathroom was open when I went up before.”

  “It was locked when I went up. That’s where I thought I heard the crinkling.”

  “Hmm.”

  He paused again. I wished I could see his face. Or anything for that matter.

  “But I’m tired,” he said. “So, I could be remembering it wrong. There’s no one here except us.”

  “You didn’t check the attic. Or the basement,” I reminded him.

  “No, I didn’t.” His voice said he would check those two places if I insisted. I wasn’t particularly worried about it.

  “Are you going to?” I asked, just to bust his chops.

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said.

  “No, I don’t mind.”

  His feet didn’t move. I felt bad for him. He always had a gun on him, but bullets didn’t stop some things.

  “There’s no point,” I said. “There’s nobody else in the house. We’re both a little bit out of our element here. Our minds are getting turned around. Let’s just sit and you can refresh my memory on this book app thing.”

  We did just that, talking a little in between about his schedule this coming week and a run he had to make out to Cedar Springs, trying to get me used to the idea that he wouldn’t be just a phone call away for a whole day. I was good with that. I could reach anyone at the ranch if I needed them, and it wasn’t as if that stupid horse had kicked 911 out of my head. Anyway, I could very well have my sight back before then.

  Like earlier, Ben was reluctant to go. I assured him I was going to tuck myself in anyway as soon as he left. He gave me a slap on the back before promising to come back tomorrow to clean my head wound—that made me shudder. I stood there thinking as I heard him drive off, I’d never find a better friend. We’d been together nearly every day since first grade, but there’d been very few legitimate tests of our friendship until now. He was tried and true. I hoped I’d be the same man if he ever needed me this way. I prayed that need wouldn’t arise.

  He had set the couch up for me, with sheet, blanket, and pillow, reminding me to keep my head elevated. My phone was at my fingertips, there was leftover food in the fridge…. I had everything I needed.

  E
xcept my damn vision.

  I don’t say I never cried before in my life because that would be a bald-faced lie. But it wasn’t the easiest thing to let myself do. I don’t know why. Call it male pride, blame it on the way my daddy raised me, I don’t know. I do know he lost his right hand and his job in the same week my mom walked out on him—seemed we were alike in finding women who didn’t stick when it got rough—and he never shed a tear. Not that I saw. Maybe I’m weaker than him. Or maybe he was as private as me and just kept his tears to himself until there was no one around to see.

  I was alone now. More alone than I’d ever been in my life. God was everywhere, I knew that, just right now it felt like He was pressed back against the far wall where I couldn’t feel Him. Well, He could watch me cry then. Didn’t have to say a word, just stand by and consider what to do with this wretched creature He’d fashioned, weeping like a boy, for the dad he’d pushed aside, the mother he’d lost, and the loss of his living, the life he’d loved.

  It might be poetic justice. Isn’t that what they call it when life upends, landing all twisted around and a person gets back what they’d given? I might be thinking of karma. Or irony. Whatever you called it, it sucked and I was letting it churn around me like a whirlpool, pulling me down, spinning me every which way, suddenly filling my lungs with so much sorrow no sound came out when I cried. My shoulders jerked with the sobbing, but no sound. At first, anyway.

  *****

  The sound of a grown man crying ripped my heart out. All the more so because there were no words, nothing he was pleading for or ranting over, just raw pain punctuated by ragged breaths and the occasional groan. My stomach clenched, held. From the time I was little I had it in me to try to ease another’s pain, to prop up pillows, smooth blankets when they were sick, to make them laugh when they were low, or pat them on the shoulder and tell them everything would work out whether I believed it or not. It killed me not being able to offer Josiah comfort, though I could at least listen and be with him in some strange way, from here.

  When he quieted, I closed and locked my room door and went back inside to lie down and pray. I’d been trying to sleep since Ben left several hours ago. Not that I was all that tired, but I had to be at work first thing in the morning and was already stressing about leaving the house without being seen in case Ben or someone else decided to drop over.

  Usually, that wasn’t a problem. Even with the house being wide open to view on three sides, there was no one to view it. The road was basically designed as a shortcut to the hills, but with there being nothing else to see, and this house being one of only a few, spread apart by several acres, it got very little traffic.

  As it was, I would have to walk my bike far from the house before I mounted it, with all the racket the chain made. I made a mental note to oil the chain when I got to work, or better yet, to have Wally take a look at it. He’d been wanting to get his hands on my bike since I started working at the dry cleaners two doors away from his bike shop. He proclaimed it some kind of classic or something and said he wanted to take a closer look.

  I knew he really wanted to take a closer look at me, and that kept me from accepting his offer. I just wasn’t interested. He wasn’t very attractive, to begin with. Though he looked around my age, he dressed like he raided his grandfather’s closet, and wore enough aftershave—if that’s what it was—for three men, but he seemed nice enough.

  I made another mental note to stash my belongings before I left for work, in case someone got into my room before I got home. It made more sense than keeping the door locked and climbing out the window over the porch.

  I’d finally fallen asleep only to have my rest punctuated by a thread of random scenes strung together to create a bizarre dream featuring a path through the woods, grass slicked with rain, and lightning spearing the sky like a devil’s pitchfork. Several times, I’d woken with a start.

  *****

  A half hour into the morning, my friend Eliza came into the store and draped several items of clothing over the counter.

  “I need these back by next Friday,” she told me.

  “They’ll be done before we close today.”

  “I don’t need them until Friday, but absolutely by then.”

  “El, I’ll have them done. If you don’t want to come back later, I’ll give them back to you at church tomorrow.” On second thought, it would be too tricky to dress for church and leave the house, then come in again now that Josiah lived there. The less I came and went the better or I’d be found out for sure. “Come for them today before I close.”

  “Great.” She paused, looking me dead in the eye. “As long as I have them by Friday.”

  I laughed. “Okay, so what’s Friday?”

  Eliza rolled her eyes. “It took you long enough to ask. I have a date.”

  I raised my brows. Eliza didn’t have a lot of dates—neither did I—probably because we were only interested in seeing guys in church, or at least who we knew had a relationship with Jesus, even if they didn’t go to our church. Then there was the chastity vow thing. Even though they were Christians, some guys still looked for more from a relationship than kissing and the occasional grope. They were still guys, with raging hormones and it wasn’t easy for them, I knew that. Nor for some of the girls. Not that I’m giving anyone a pass on premarital sex, then again, it’s not my place to judge their walk, right?

  “So, who with?” I asked.

  “Charles!”

  She practically squealed his name. She’d been after Charles Swift since his father started pastoring the church six years ago. Though I wasn’t going to that church at the time and had never spoken to the kid, I can’t count all the times we’d stayed up late planning her future as Mrs. Charles Swift.

  I was so happy for her. I came around the counter. “Wow, really? How’d that happen?”

  “He called me out of the blue last night to ask if I wanted to see a band with him at Living Praise Church on Friday night. At first, I thought he was inviting me like in a group setting, but after I agreed, he said he had to call the church when he hung up and order our two tickets. Our two tickets,” she stressed.

  She squealed again and I hugged her. “That’s awesome! What band are you going to see?”

  “Who cares?!” She flapped her hands around. “I don’t remember. Must be somebody good, he likes the same kind of music I do.”

  I picked up her clothes and gave them a look. A pair of black pants and a lacey cranberry top with some gold beading around the neck. “This is what you’re wearing?”

  “Yeah, why?” she asked, reviewing her selection.

  Thankfully, Eliza wasn’t the type to have her feelings hurt by an outfit critique. “Seems a little dressy, that’s all.”

  “I shouldn’t do dressy? How do I know if this is a dress-up date?” she asked.

  “Did he mention going to eat afterward?”

  “No.”

  “Meeting up with other people?”

  She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. She flipped her hair a lot. “No, he just said we were going to the concert.”

  “Then I would go casual,” I said. “Like you were expecting the concert, nothing else.”

  Eliza took the top from my hands, giving it a concerning look. “This is too dressy? It’s a tank top.”

  “I think I saw something similar to it on the cover of a vintage Harper’s Bazaar,” I told her.

  “Great, so not only is it dressy, it’s ugly.”

  “No, it’s not ugly.” Not my taste, though.

  Eliza tossed the tank top back onto the counter and turned in an annoyed circle. “It’s old, too. I got it from my mother.”

  All of a sudden, she looked like she wanted to cry. Whoa! This was Eliza. Eliza, the go-to girl when I was falling apart. She couldn’t have a melt-down.

  “This date has you worried, huh?” I asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s Charles!” she groaned. “Anyone else, whatever, no big thin
g. I’ve had bad dates before. This is Charles! I’ve been waiting for this moment for years!”

  I’d say she was being overdramatic, but she really had. We used to run through scripts she’d written, line-by-line, pages of things he might say, with her appropriate responses. I would read as Charles, making her laugh.

  “You’ll be fine, El. He asked you, so he must like you.”

  “Why now?” she asked, suddenly sounding suspicious. “I’ve known him six years, why ask now?”

  “You were too young?” I suggested. We were sixteen when he arrived. He was nineteen. Maybe sixteen still seemed like a child to him.

  “Okay,” she said with a nod. “What about when I turned eighteen?” Her eyes widened. “Was I horrendous to look at then? I did have acne on my forehead. It must have turned him off.”

  “You were fine,” I assured her.

  “Then why?!”

  “I don’t know! Maybe he just waited for you to … ripen.”

  She paused, stared at me for a good ten seconds, her perfectly arched eyebrows drawing together over baby blue eyes. Then she laughed. It was a little hysterical, but better than tears.

  “Personally, I think he must be crazy not to have asked you out sooner,” I said.

  Eliza’s face grew still and she grabbed my hand. “Do you think he has an ulterior motive? Like maybe he’s trying to make another girl jealous?” She snapped to attention and gave my hand a squeeze before letting go. “I bet it’s Dorri Keith. She’s been after him since he got there. Doesn’t she have a life of her own? Constantly buzzing ‘round him trying to get him to trip over her.”

  “You’re after him, too,” I reminded her.

  Her blue eyes popped wide. “Hey, I don’t buzz around. I’m waiting for him to notice me. Those are two very different approaches. One’s all”—she shifted her hips in a sultry sway—“ooo, look at me, and the other is just … normal.”

  We laughed, then she gathered her garments, flinging them over her shoulder. “I’m going to wear jeans and a shirt. Nothing beaded, just a shirt.”