End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1)
Read End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) Online
Authors: E. J. Fechenda
End
of the Road
Book
One
Ghost
Stories Trilogy
By E.J.
Fechenda
Copyright
© 2016 E.J. Fechenda
All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the
permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.
Cover
image by: Jessica Ouellette with Table 6 Designs
A
whisper of a disembodied voice;
a
whiff of random cigarette smoke or hint of perfume;
an
echo of footsteps…
To
the spirits who walk among us, who let us know we’re never truly alone, thank
you for the inspiration.
Part I
The
Ghosts
Lawrence Sheldon Cranston
b.1899 – d.1935
I stood at the end of the
walkway a broken man. Our once lush, manicured lawn had long faded to brown. We
were unable to afford the water to maintain it and in Phoenix, that required a
lot of the precious resource. The shirt underneath my speckled gray suit jacket
was soaked and the pungent odor of sweat wafted up, but dead grass and body
odor were the least of my worries. Helen stepped out onto our porch, wiping her
hands on the floral skirt of her housedress. With a heavy sigh, I walked up to
meet her.
“How did it go?” she
asked.
I looked at her, noticing
the fine lines around her eyes and mouth were deeper since our troubles began.
“Where are the kids?”
“They’re downstairs playing
in the basement trying to stay cool.”
I nodded and turned to
face the street. “Please sit with me.”
Helen moved beside me
with a fluid grace indicative of her childhood ballet lessons. We sat next to
each other on the porch steps. I took a few moments to survey our palm tree
lined street, our house was one of the few not for sale or under foreclosure.
We had avoided losing our house so far, but couldn’t any longer.
Helen began before I
could. “What did Mr. Keeley say?”
“He can’t afford me
anymore either. He offered a horse to pay off the debt he owes.”
“A horse? That won’t feed
our children or keep a roof over our heads!” Helen’s hazel eyes welled up with
tears and the defeat I felt was clearly etched on her face.
“I know. He suggested I
sell it.”
“Right, buyers will be
lining up.”
With a sweep of her arm,
she gestured at the vacant homes surrounding us before she leaned against me
and sobbed. I put my arm around her slim waist and held her close.
“What are we going to
do?” she whispered.
I imagined countless
couples were having the same conversation at this very moment. Millions already
had after Wall Street bottomed out on Black Tuesday. Here it was, four years
later, and the country was practically bankrupt with no end in sight. Even my
parents were struggling and couldn’t help us. With our families in Boston, we
were basically stranded.
“I’m going back downtown
tomorrow. The Civilian Conservation Corps is seeking men to help build the
Walnut Canyon Visitors Center in Flagstaff.”
“Construction, Lawrence?
But you’re an accountant. Besides, I thought it’s only for men ages eighteen to
twenty-five.”
“It’s a job, Helen, an
income we desperately need. I’ll talk to them.” I didn’t tell her just how
badly we needed money. She thought we were only a month behind on our mortgage,
but it was worse than that.
She wiped the tears off
her cheeks and flashed a weak smile. “We’ll get through this, right?”
“Yes, my dear. This too
shall pass.” I gave her a light squeeze before standing up, “What’s on the menu
for lunch?”
“You’re in for a treat -
BLT’s. There’s enough bacon left over from breakfast. Now, if Mr. Keeley could
pay us with a pig like Hal Green did, that would be preferable.”
“He’s getting by the best
he can, just like us.” I kissed the top of her forehead and tasted the salt
from evaporated sweat. It was mid-June and temperatures already topped one
hundred degrees. The summers always reminded me of how glad I was that we had
the foresight to have our home built with a basement. Most home designs in
Phoenix didn’t come with one and I honestly didn’t know how people managed to
stay cool. A few of our neighbors had been envious of our ability to retreat
downstairs and escape the brutal heat.
We walked down the
hallway towards the kitchen, our footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. Our
home seemed larger since most of the furniture had been parsed out for far less
than it was worth. Groceries, utilities and the mortgage payment were more
important. A small settee, hutch and a steamer trunk, which had been passed
down to Helen after her mother died, were the only furnishings left in the
living room. The dining room was empty.
“Helen, before Sara comes
upstairs,” I guided my wife into the living room by her elbow. “You know her
friend Lindsay Shepherd who lives on East Vernon Street?”
“Yes.”
“I walked by her house
this morning and her family was loading up their car. There’s a foreclosure
sign on the lawn.”
“Oh no!” Helen gasped and
covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s awful! Sara will be devastated.
Lindsay was her only friend left in the neighborhood.”
“I know we agreed not to
tell the children about our troubles, but I think we need to be honest with
them. We could very easily be the Shepherds and I don’t want them to be caught
off guard.”
“Yes, that would be worse
and they’re not blind, they have to be aware that something is going on. Not
all of our furniture can be sent out for refinishing.”
I admired Helen’s ability
to find humor even in a dire situation. “Mae West doesn’t have anything on you.”
I kissed her forehead again before we walked into the kitchen. With the dining
room empty, we ate at an unfinished wood table, large enough for the four of
us. Our days of hosting dinner parties had been over for a while.
“I have an idea,” Helen
said. “Can you call Teddy and Sara upstairs? I’ll make the sandwiches.”
Within seconds of calling
their names a stampede of little feet bounded up the basement steps.
“Daddy, you’re home
early!” Sara exclaimed and hugged me. Her blonde curls crushed against my chest
and I was quick to return the hug.
“Yes and he has the rest
of the day off,” Helen said.
“Really?” Teddy flashed a
gap toothed grin.
“Yes. So, we’re going to
have a picnic lunch at the park!”
Teddy and Sara bounced
around with excitement. Helen wrapped sandwiches in waxed paper and stuffed
them in a cloth bag along with four oranges from the tree in our backyard. Our
subdivision was built on land that used to be an orange grove. Each parcel came
with a citrus tree. This source of free fruit had never been more appreciated.
The kids skipped ahead.
Teddy had his baseball bat slung over his shoulder with his glove perched on
the end like it was gripping the smooth wood. Sara cradled her Raggedy Anne doll
under one arm. Helen and I meandered along behind, holding hands. Her
suggestion had lifted the melancholy of the morning.
Unfortunately, the levity
didn’t last.
