Summer 1920 arrived, but memories and work weighed heavy on Will’s mind. He turned his head whenever he passed Michael’s room. He didn’t need reminders that his son was gone. He thought about their strolls through town, about the baseball games and sleigh rides that Michael would never know. He thought about the valley road, the stream, and the indigo bunting that Michael couldn’t see.
One night he sat past midnight and thumbed through the pages of his new Farm Journal, but he couldn’t concentrate on it. He couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t read, so he got off his chair and shuffled toward the kitchen. Maybe a cup of hot tea would hit the spot. Will reached for the light cord, but before he grasped it he thought he heard a noise outside and looked toward the big window, the one that Mary enjoyed while she did her kitchen chores. A face looked back. But it was a strange face, a face unlike any he had seen before. Not quite human, it was like a poorly made puppet, all wood and metal. Will rushed to the back door, but when he stepped out no one was there. He locked the doors before turning to bed for a restless night’s sleep. The next morning Will didn’t mention the ghoul to Mary as she prepared for school.
On the way home from work that night, Will stopped at Bennie’s. “Hey, Bennie, is there any word about spirits haunting the neighborhood?”
“Only those I sell.”
“Peered in my window last night. It wasn’t even human.”
Bennie shrugged. “I haven’t seen you for a while. Must be busy.”
“Sales are soaring. I can’t get outa the office. Lucky to have Ed Spencer and Ray Fitzgerald.”
“Help is just a headache,” Bennie said. “An irate employee complaining nowadays could mean trouble, but Wilmer’s no threat.”
“I don’t have that problem. Ed and Ray are good workers, but I’m so busy I don’t have the time to teach them the finer points. I have to stay most evenings and Saturdays, but they’re willing. I’m just lucky, I guess.”
Will did consider himself lucky. He was glad that he scarcely had time to think about Michael, but there was little time for Mary as well. Still, the hours away from home weren’t for naught. He happily watched their debt diminish. It was a blessing and a curse to have the only car dealership in town.
When Sunday arrived, despite unfinished car repairs, Will spent the day with Mary. They began the morning with a hearty breakfast. Will had few kitchen credentials, but he could scramble eggs, fry bacon, and cook last night’s baked potatoes into a heaping plate of cold fries. He wasn’t sure why, but those cold, leftover potatoes tasted better than the fries he cut from raw spuds. Will insisted that Mary stay upstairs until the table was set and the skillet heated, just enough time to pretty herself for their Sunday breakfast.
After they finished their meal and drank a second cup of coffee, they retreated to their bedroom to dress for church. Will knew that Mary appreciated his efforts, so he cozied up to his pleasing, attractive wife.
“None of that, not now. We barely have enough time to make the first service.”
“We could go to second service, couldn’t we?”
“But you promised we’d go to Hinton today. You wouldn’t renege on that, would you?”
“No, I wouldn’t renege on that. But we have so little time together.” Will lifted his pants and buttoned his fly. His work left so little time for life’s important things. Maybe prosperity wasn’t so attractive after all.