40
Carlie and Loretta were waiting on the front porch when Jon arrived home from work. After he parked his car outside the barn, Carlie’s heart broke as she watched him walk toward her. Newly formed circles under his eyes gradually changed hue from a slight smudge of dark brown to smoky blue-black circles. With each tortured step, he resembled an inmate walking the last mile.
Jon hadn’t slept at all the night before and Carlie knew it; however, these new signs of emotional stress were not due to a lack of sleep, but were in reality psychological. Everyone has a breaking point; she wondered if Jon had reached his.
Jon laid his briefcase down by the door and dropped his exhausted body into the confines of his overstuffed chair. Laying his head back against the soft leather, he closed his eyes and listened to the pleasant buzzing of Carlie and Loretta as they talked softly in the kitchen.
A gentle tug on his sleeve brought Jon straight up in the chair. Carlie stood next to him holding a plate and a glass of iced tea. She waited until he was fully awake before she handed them to him.
“This smells great. Thank you,” he said.
Both women smiled at him. Loretta wanted to let him sleep, but Carlie figured that if he did, he wouldn’t sleep that night.
After the three finished eating, Carlie asked Jon to tell Loretta about the night before. Jon was shocked; he had expected Carlie to have already filled Loretta in on their unearthly encounter.
Loretta looked over at Carlie, probably wondering why she had kept something so apparently significant from her. Turning back to Jon, she moved to the edge of her seat in anticipation.
Jon started from the beginning. Carlie had slept through much of what had happened the night before. Jon described the young girl and the two little boys, hoping that their descriptions might jog Loretta’s memory; quite possibly, she might have known them or heard about them living in the house.
The look on Loretta’s face told Jon that she had no idea who they might have been.
Over the next two hours, Jon relived every horrifying moment of their night. When he finally explained that, when it was over, there hadn’t actually been a fire—that most of the experience had been a collective figment of their imagination or a memory planted in their conscious minds—Loretta responded.
“This house has been burned almost to the ground on at least four separate occasions. I believe that Ian McPherson caused the first fire. I remember my grandfather telling us stories of how Ian had set the house on fire in one of his drunken rages.
“Was this woman your aunt?”
Carlie remembered the woman vividly. It wasn’t her Aunt Grace. As she thought about the woman’s suffering, she couldn’t help but wonder who she was.
“I don’t know who the woman was last night, but she wasn’t Aunt Grace.”
Carlie’s comment surprised Jon. “Are you positive? I was sure that she was. When I saw her, I’d have sworn it was your aunt.”
“At first I thought it was too, but when I really saw her face, I knew it wasn’t.
“I really only remember seeing Aunt Grace’s spirit one time. I was in the bathroom. I had hurt myself somehow, and I remember her appearing behind me—she touched my shoulder. I saw her face as clear as I see yours right now.”
Loretta sat on the edge of her chair listening to Jon and Carlie’s conversation. “It makes you wonder how many ghosts are actually in this house.”
Jon had a pretty good idea. “I wonder why they’re here. What is holding them to this house?”
Carlie and Loretta spoke in unison. “Or who?”
“All right,” Jon said, “I’ll bite. Who?”
Carlie stood and excused herself. She was gone for a few moments and returned with Edith’s journal.
“I read some of this the other night. Edith talks about how determined Ian was to return to Ireland. He and Andrew worked almost twenty-four hours a day to get the crops in before the first snow.”
Opening the book, Carlie turned a few pages and read to herself. Turning a few more pages, she stopped and began to read aloud.
I fear that Ian will not see his wish to return to Ireland come true. I am afraid that we are destined to remain right where we are. Ian is too proud a man to ever admit that he failed.
Carlie thought about what she had just read before she spoke. “I figured that Ian’s quest was over once Edith couldn’t figure out a way to come up with enough money to make the move. However, old Ian had a different idea. She goes on to tell how he scheduled an auction of everything they owned for the following spring.”
Loretta looked up at Carlie and asked the question that had just run through Jon’s mind. “What about Andrew?”
“Well, if nothing else, Ian was a man of his word.” Turning a few pages, she began reading again.
Today is Andrew’s eighteenth birthday. Ian waited until after supper before he asked Andrew to accompany him into the living room. I was hoping that Ian had recognized how hard Andrew had worked and that he had proven his worth. But Ian told him that he had until the end of the day to have his belongings off the property.
Andrew came to me and asked if I would speak to Ian for him. I felt obligated to tell the boy that it wouldn’t do any good; Ian had arranged to auction off the farm in just a few weeks.
He didn’t say a word. He simply left the room, emptied out his few belongings, and disappeared.
Carlie stopped reading and laid the book down on the coffee table. Jon waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he finally asked, “Well, what happened?”
Carlie looked at him and hesitated for a few seconds before she answered. “I think he killed them!”
“What?”
“I think Andrew killed them.”
Carlie picked up the journal again and turned to the middle of the book. “Edith said here that it had been almost a week since Andrew had left. She had seen him by the barn and the tack room, but he hadn’t come to the house.”
My heart is breaking. I saw Andrew today; I don’t think he saw me, though. I’m positive he was responsible for the deaths of Daniel and Patrick, but in hindsight, I can hardly blame him. I allowed Ian and the boys to torment him. I even allowed them to torture and hurt him. All Andrew ever wanted was to belong to the family, to be a part of our lives. I am as responsible as anyone for preventing that from happening.
Tonight I am going to ask Ian if there is something we might do for the boy. I don’t feel right just throwing him out to the world as we did.
Ian promised to find the boy and see if there is anything we could do to make his transition easier.
Carlie closed the book and laid it on the table. “That was her last entry.”