House of Darkness House of Light (33 page)

“Mommy.” Cindy approached, speaking solemnly. “It’s not God-forsaken. God is here all the time. It feels like living in church. God is always with us.”

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“You said this is a God-forsaken house. It’s not.” Leave it to Cindy to point out a common misperception among mortals; the adult variety. Explaining it as simply as a child would, she continued. “God is here. Can’t you feel it?”

“Yes, feel the presence of the Lord. You’re right. Go say your prayers.”

“Just because someone is different doesn’t mean they’re bad. If God is the one who made everyone, then didn’t He make our ghosts, too?” There it was; Carolyn kissed Cindy goodnight; a kiss she felt all the way to her heart.

Wandering aimlessly through their house, sleep was not an option. A weary woman disturbed by multiple assertions, had much to reconsider. Knowledge of these episodes changed everything. No one even mentioned the incident in the warm room. As shocking an event as it was at the time, it was treated as old news in comparison with so many other occurrences.

The fire burned hot well past 2:00 a.m. and still, she shivered and could not get warm enough to save her soul. It was June and Carolyn sat huddled on an icy hearthstone; hard to feel warm on the outside when the cold comes from within. Finding the inner strength to heave one more log on the grate, she did so pondering a future free of spirits; free of fear. Wondering what had drawn her there, what called to her; the curiosity was building. Why did it appear as some grand conspiracy, as a virtual gift from above? Why had all the pieces of the puzzle fallen so perfectly into place, one in the country? Good fortune befalls few in a life often riddled with disappointment. What seems too good to be true: she was living proof of the theory. Could such a rare happenstance be purely coincidental? Her ambivalence was magnified four-fold by a single conversation. Why would her children beg to stay in a space filled with fear? Why did they love it? It was so damn cold: Dark. Why would they want to be there; to remain in a farmhouse they had no choice but to share? Hoisting her burdened body up with some assistance from the mantel board, Carolyn went upstairs one more time. Beginning this night, another ritual; to be certain the girls were safe and sound asleep: second time around. They needed to know someone was there to watch over them; someone mortal.

Upon returning to the parlor, Carolyn allowed her head to fall into the soft center of a pillow. In spite of its comfort, much-needed rest eluded her. The scenario seemed implausible; she could not fall asleep. Frustrated, up within minutes, pacing again; her body ached and her mind reeled in equal measure. Rather than considering this grave subject, Carolyn chose instead to reflect upon things of somewhat less import. Her children were becoming lazy with the language. She’d noticed. Catching mistakes during their group exchange, she chose to postpone usual corrections or mild admonishments due to a need to listen closely to content. Determined to address lapses in syntax and some poor grammar skills at breakfast in the morning, Carolyn drifted off to sleep.

Awaking before dawn, a singular thought occupying her mind, their mother was marveling at the bravery of her children. She could still hear little voices speaking in tandem: “We love it here!” Good God; what were they thinking? “We don’t want to leave our farm! Please, mom!” Pleas for mercy: it wasn’t something Carolyn thought she could or should have to handle alone. When would her husband be home and why hadn’t he called? Out of sight…out of mind? Feeling powerless, she required a conference: a meeting of the minds in the home of the brave, minus five children much too young to make such a life-altering decision based on raw emotion. (Ironically, her criteria as well.)

Roger arrived along with the electric bill. He plucked the mail from the box as a delivery truck drove on down Round Top Road. Several days had passed since Carolyn’s disturbing conversation with her children. Roger called only once during a week away, though his wife told him nothing of her encounter with their girls in his absence. He walked in through the kitchen, throwing a pile of bills into the center of the table. Having tucked April into bed for the child’s usual afternoon nap, Carolyn was making her way back to the same room from the opposite direction, with a load of folded laundry in her arms, destined for Nancy’s bedroom, there to reside in yet another pile on her floor. Literally walking into her husband, an armload of neatly-tended clothing hit the floor earlier than anticipated. It startled the woman so badly she shrieked; an automatic, if spastic response to one’s own mate; to be sure. No hugs. No kisses. Quickly picking up the clothes, Carolyn threw them onto their dining room table then had to sit down to recover from the fright of this encounter.

“Well! That’s a very fine how do you do!” Roger was just as startled by her reflexive reaction as she was by finding him in the house.

“Sorry. I didn’t expect you home yet.”

“What’s wrong with you? You’re beginning to act like the cat!”

“I have reason.”

“What reason is that?”

“What do you think?” Carolyn leapt into a defensive posture. “You’re gone more than you are home! Roger, you have
no
idea what has been happening with your own family! You leave me here, all alone, night after night to fend for myself and the girls, on a wing and a prayer. I don’t even dare fall asleep;
someone
needs to watch over them.” She went into the kitchen. He followed.

Retrieving the stack of mail from the table, he sought a particular envelope.

“I’m
gone
so that when I
do
come home I can pay the bills…like
this one
!” Roger ripped open their electric bill, presenting it to his wife by flinging it in her general direction. He jerked it back then read the charge. “
Look at this!
” Plunging the invoice toward her face as if it
was
all her fault: “I guess I am
not
home enough to keep you from running it up through the roof!”

“Really? So I’m to blame! Roger, take a walk through this house right now. It’s a morgue in here. Cold and dark. It is eighty degrees outside, bright blue skies and sunshine all around this house…but in here? Nothing but an unholy tomb! Go ahead! Take a walk. Inspect the place! We live in a cave, but if you see any sign of light you’ll be sure to snuff it out!
Find
a bulb burning.
Show
me where I can conserve anymore than I already do. Check that old furnace while you’re at it. Go see if we used any oil while you were away. Just don’t wake up April. She’s sleeping in our bed…I don’t sleep there anymore and you’re hardly ever home so I suppose it should get some use.”

“Will you please calm down?
You’ll
wake her up!”

“You come in here accusing me of wasting the money
you
earn; you blame me for
everything
when all I am trying to do is keep this house comfortable; some place fit for human habitation!”

“I don’t understand this! Kenyon showed us his utility bills. They were less than half as much! Month after month…they keep rising!”

“He was alone in this house. There are seven of us. Big difference.”

“Not
this
big. Something’s got to be wrong here. He kept
all
these lights on
all
the time…day and night, according to every neighbor I’ve talked to since we came. Something’s wrong here!”

“Call the electric company. Have them check the meter. Simple enough.”

Carolyn’s energy was spent; her venomous tirade…over. Standing abruptly, she turned and walked out the kitchen door. Her husband remained behind to study the power bill which made absolutely no sense. Months of complaints regarding their use of electricity; it was bound to erupt as pressure mounted. It was equally frustrating for Carolyn to watch the bills come in and have no money to pay them. She recognized the gravity of their situation and knew it was becoming volatile. Based upon Roger’s demeanor, his trip had been long and woefully unproductive: Time to hit the road again…in another direction.

Energy is as invisible as evil. Roger and Carolyn had no means of knowing the negativity they were exuding toward one another was fanning a nefarious flame. In moments of supreme volatility, emotional outbursts were occurring more frequently; the making up was getting harder to do. There remained an obvious distance between them, even when appearing affectionate with each other. Acrimonious matrimony breeds distrust; enflamed passions functioned as incendiary devices. Anger spawns resentment spawns contempt. During a difficult first year at the farm they began to alienate one another, to such an extent, the couple separated emotionally. The two fought about money; from utility bills to groceries. They argued about politics; routinely confronting the other: issues of war and peace. The conflicts they willingly engaged in were detrimental in ways they could not yet imagine. Carolyn became increasingly remote, eventually untouchable. She perceived Roger as disengaged with his family and intended to return the sentiment in kind. Distance was preferable to ongoing debate: mouth-to-mouth combat. Disdain could not be disguised. It was volcanic in Nature, bubbling to the surface; molten lava with nowhere to go but up and out as hostility seething from words they used as weaponry. He no longer cared what she thought. She no longer looked into his eyes.

“What could you possibly want?” Carolyn’s terse response to his cautious approach was not unexpected. He knew he had to make amends, if she would only allow him to do so…the times that try men’s souls.

An unyielding figure against the malleable landscape, Carolyn stood rigid; in her place at the back of the house, overlooking the property from her perch along the foundation wall above the garden spot, plans abandoned, the good Earth left fallow for yet another year; a nightmare in its own right.

“I thought you wanted to plant a garden.”

“I
wanted
to do a lot of things.” The words were crisp and sharp, lashing at him like a whip. “I had sweet dreams for this place.”

“Then I’ll plow it up and you can plant…it’s not too late.”

“What’s the point? We won’t be here for the harvest. We can’t stay here. It is not safe for any of us, especially the kids. It’s too dangerous.”

“This again? How many times do I have to remind you we’re in no position to sell this house? Where do you think we will go? There’s no profit here yet. None. We couldn’t break even in the best of circumstances.”

“If you were home now and then you’d know I’m not the only one seeing and hearing things in this house. Your children are being affected by it, too.”

“What the hell have you been telling them?” An accusation levied against an innocent victim…one of planting seeds; no doubt.

“What the hell are
you
suggesting?” Carolyn became instantly enraged by a thoughtless comment. “I haven’t told them anything! It’s what they’ve been telling me! You think I am unaware of how impressionable children are; it is at the root of my concerns. Look at this garden spot, Roger. That’s what kids are…fertile ground. When you plow it up and plant seeds, this land will grow whatever you plant! It’s why I’ve kept as much from them as possible. They all saw the coat hanger incident and there was nothing I could do to avoid the outcome of it. Andrea knows what happened in our bedroom. She never said a word about it to any of her sisters. They came to her.”

“How does she know about that?” He was clearly disturbed by the thought.

“She
saw
it happen.”

“What?” Roger’s own alarm system chimed in. “What are you saying?”

“She thought she was having a nightmare but when it woke her, Annie said she couldn’t move. She could
hear
me screaming for help. She saw an entity; an apparition
identical
to what I saw! When she came downstairs, she looked at the notebook and recognized the image; the figure I drew. I can’t explain it and neither can she. We can’t begin to understand how it happened but it did. We talked about it afterward. I
didn’t
tell her what happened; she
knew
…and what she saw she has kept to herself. A few days ago I found out what’s been happening with her sisters. They’ve been going to Annie, all of them, except for April…so far. Roger. Listen to me. We cannot stay here.”

A beautiful day belied the darkness in her stone cold heart. Carolyn openly divulged critically important information and expected a series of questions; anticipating that a concerned father would solicit further details pertaining to the experiences of his children. Instead, Roger continued to perseverate about an electric bill, still in hand.

“Something’s wrong here. Old man Kenyon showed us all his utility bills. This is almost triple the amount of his highest month in January…in the dead of winter! I don’t understand what the problem is here; this doesn’t make any sense! There has to be some reasonable explanation!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Carolyn glared with contempt, directly at her obtuse spouse. “Didn’t you hear a single word I said? Our children are in danger and all you can do is bitch about electric bills. ‘
Something’s wrong here
’? You’re goddamned right…something’s wrong here!”

“No one is in any danger. Stop it. You’re putting ideas in their heads.”

“You’re an idiot! Get away from me!” Carolyn’s rage was so powerful, it silenced her adversary. He left her to gaze at their unturned garden spot.

While Carolyn stood alone contemplating the cosmic secrecy of seed, the school bus pulled up in front of the house. Roger was making his way to the kitchen. The girls saw his car in the yard. Leaping down the steps of the bus, running straight for their father, the long-awaited reunion was short-lived. By the following day he was gone again. There was an exorbitant electric bill to pay. Roger was away for more than a week. He did not ask his wife anything more about what she’d already told him regarding their children, as if he was not even interested. They didn’t discuss much before his departure and didn’t address it again until his return. By that time, there was more to tell.