CHAPTER 6
The next morning, John and Manu met with Officer Lester Sexton about the ghost sightings of the day before. Lester brought his shepherd dog, Phebus, to help search the area for any clues not immediately evident.
“I guess we really couldn’t expect Sheriff Sutton to come out and investigate a ghost,” Manu said to John, while watching Lester and Phebus explore around the rustic hunting lodge on the Upper Farm Road. “But I lack a certain confidence in Lester Sexton, I don’t mind saying.”
John grinned. “Yeah, I know what you mean, but maybe he’ll luck into something. Phebus being here might help.”
The two men chuckled, and then Manu gestured toward the big lodge sprawled under a canopy of tall pines. “John, I went through the lodge myself last night, checked all the rental cabins on the road above, even walked up the hiking trail toward Garretts Gap. I couldn’t find any evidence of a squatter on the property, nor could I see any tracks in the area where the boys said they saw the ghost.”
“It’s a puzzle and that’s a fact,” John said as the police officer reappeared from behind the lodge.
Lester crossed the road to join them, shaking his head. On the pudgy side in appearance, Lester waddled more than he walked, and although not the brightest bulb on the tree, he tried hard and always meant well. “I can’t find a sign of fresh tracks or any evidence of a break-in, John.” He clucked at the shepherd to sit down. “You’d think if all this ghost business was caused by a prankster, it would have settled down by now.”
“How many ghost sightings have you been called in on, Lester?” John leaned over to pet Phebus’s head.
“I reckon three before this.” Lester counted on his fingers. “First one up Indian Creek Drive on the back road that circles under Sheepback Knob. Gurlie Klemmer reported it—heard a moaning sound and saw a ghostlike form as she cut through the woods to Loretha Green’s place one evening. The second came from a couple of men hunting in the ridge area, across the creek from your place. Next, the Plemmons came down to the police department in Maggie, all torn up ’cause their little girl Amy got near scared to death seeing the ghost while playing by Indian Creek.” Lester turned to look down the road in that direction. “That was less than a quarter mile from here, John, and now your boys say they saw the ghost on this side of the creek. Sure can’t figure what to think of all this.”
“The boys also told us that Alo Youngblood’s wife, Reena, saw the ghost,” Manu added.
Lester scowled. “Well, she didn’t report it. But then, that family stays close to itself. They don’t step out much—probably in part from living on Silas Green’s land. He’s a hard man to work for.” Lester rubbed a boot in the dirt. “Used to beat up on his own girls, I hear. Didn’t surprise us none when them girls took off soon as they grew up.”
“Twisted man.” Manu spit in disgust at this news. “Ela says his wife, Loretha, is real glad every time he goes away traveling with his farm equipment sales. Guess there’s no love lost there.”
John brought them back to the subject. “Has the police department found any clues or information about who they think is behind these ghost tricks?”
Lester shook his head. “Nope. We go out and look, but we don’t find nothin’—just like here.” He pulled a notebook from his pocket. “Either of you think of anything else I need to write down before I go?”
“No. I think we already told you everything.” John followed Lester to his police car, shutting the door after he and the dog climbed in. “Thanks for coming, Lester. Let us know if you learn anything more.”
He and Manu watched Lester drive away. “Guess we didn’t learn much from that visit,” John said.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Manu pushed his hat back on his forehead. “We learned the names of the folks who reported the other ghost sightings, and we learned that all the sightings happened in this general vicinity above the Drop Off ridgeline. It’s not like ghosts are popping up all over Maggie Valley. Just here around the creek, ridge, and knob.”
“And?” John raised an eyebrow.
“And it’s something to keep an eye on.” Manu looked down the road toward the creek. “I think I’ll do a little exploring on the other side of Indian Creek, if you don’t mind—go talk to some of the folks Lester mentioned. Maybe stop by the Youngbloods’ place, too. See if I can learn anything more. It’s my guess the police department won’t do much about a couple of ghost sightings unless property damage or violence is involved. I’d personally like to get to the bottom of this before anything like that happens.”
“I agree.” John nodded. “I’ll ask around when I go into town today. See what I can find out at the local spots. Maggie’s a small place—there’s bound to be talk.”
A few hours later, John found himself flagged down by Tolley Albright as he pulled into the parking lot of the Maggie Valley Restaurant. “Going in for lunch, John?” Tolley asked.
John glanced down at his watch. “Guess I could if I thought I’d have some good company.” He grinned at his longtime friend.
“Well, let’s do it. I hear country-fried steak is on the menu today and that it’s real good.” Tolley patted his ample girth.
The two men soon sat at a table by the window with two plates of food before them. As they ate, John filled Tolley in on the ghost sightings and what he’d learned about them while poking around downtown.
“Gossip is really spreading about this ghost, Tolley.” John cut a bite of his steak and then forked it up with a mound of mashed potatoes.
“People love something like this to talk about.” Tolley paused between bites. “But it’s adding up to more than talk now. One of my clients who owns rentals in that area is complaining about profits falling off. This business might affect my realty sales—and your lodge and cabin rental business, too—if an end doesn’t come to it soon.”
“I’m more worried about someone getting hurt.”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Tolley plunged into a new subject. “Hey, Rebecca told me Lydia’s back, and she wants us all to get together one night. I bet the Alexanders will feed the four of us free barbecue at the Cataloochee Ranch tonight if we’ll clog a little and entertain the guests. I hear they’ve got a big group staying there this weekend.” He wiggled his eyebrows at John. “Free dinner date for a little dancing—just like old times. What do you say?”
John drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m not sure if Lydia will go, Tolley. There’s a lot of old angst floating between us.”
Tolley mopped up the last of his gravy with his roll. “Well, dancin’ might help to work some of that out. You know how much Lydia used to love clogging up at the ranch. I’ll bet you can talk her into it. Just show up later on at her place carrying that red cowboy hat and her red dancing shoes. Tell her Rebecca and I and the Alexanders are counting on her coming.”
John hesitated.
Tolley smoothed a hand over his bald head before scratching his short beard, where most of his hair seemed to have migrated. “Come on, John. You gotta create ways to get this woman back in your life. You and I both know you’ve never gotten past her, not even dated another woman all these years. Take a chance, man. This used to be something the two of you liked doing together.”
By the time he and Tolley parted, they’d called the Alexanders to arrange to clog for their Friday night outdoor barbecue, and now John stood at Lydia’s door, mustering up the courage to ask her out. He knocked and she opened the door after a few minutes.
“John?” she asked. He watched her eyes drift over his red, white, and blue cowboy shirt, and then down his jeans-clad legs to his red cowboy tap shoes.
A smile twitched at the corner of her lips. “Well, it’s been a long time since I saw you in that costume.”
“The Alexanders need some cloggers to entertain the guests tonight after the outdoor barbecue. They’ve got a big crowd in. Tolley and Rebecca asked us to come along with them.”
He handed her the bag he’d held behind his back. Her eyes widened as she rummaged in it, seeing her old red tap shoes, the matching cowboy shirt to his, and a red cowboy hat on top.
She started shaking her head slowly. “John, I haven’t done this in a long, long time.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” he said. “You never forget what to do.”
“Listen, it’s nice of you to ask me—”
He stopped her. “It was Tolley and Rebecca who set this up. They wanted to do something special with you home to the valley. Tolley called and set everything in place, then asked me to come by and pick you up. A number of old friends will be at the ranch tonight—all glad to see you again. The Cross-Creek Boys with their pickin’-and-singing group, the Aldridges, the Alexanders. Probably a few others helping with the barbecue.” He paused. “I figure you can tolerate my company for a night in order to make a lot of old friends happy.”
She held the door open. “You have a persuasive way of pulling me back into the past, John Parker Cunningham.”
He followed her inside. “I’d like to leave much of the past in the past and walk out into the future with you instead. Find some happier times together.”
She turned her green eyes to his. “This isn’t a date, John. It’s a get-together with old friends.”
He nodded, deciding not to push his luck further.
“Okay. I’ll go get ready,” she said, taking the bag and heading toward the back bedroom.
“Whew.” John heaved a sigh of relief when she left, pleased she’d actually agreed to go.
A happy evening began after that. Lydia filled out her cute cowboy shirt and snug jeans as sweetly as John remembered. And after a few awkward moments, she moved with skill and ease into the remembered double toe ball, heel ball, heel step movements of clogging that had always been such a pleasure to both of them.
“Come on, liven it up,” Tolley called beside them, where he and Rebecca danced in colorful matching outfits of their own. “Let’s add in some slides, kicks, and stomps now. Whoo-eee!”
“You slow down, Tolley Aldridge!” Lydia warned. “I haven’t done this in a very long time.”
“Ah, you’re a pro. Look at you.” He grinned, moving into a hop-double hop movement to the rhythm of the Cross-Creek Boys. “We’re all dancing about as fine tonight as that Maggie Valley clogging champion, Burton Edwards.”
Lydia laughed, kicking at him in fun as she and John danced around the other couple in a well-remembered movement, their heels tapping on the concrete floor with clean, sharp sounds.
After several numbers, the four friends sat at a picnic table recuperating and working on a big plate of pit-smoked barbecue and fixin’s.
Lydia looked out across the night and sighed. “I’d forgotten how much fun this can be and how beautiful it is here on Fie Mountain. It’s like being on top of the world.”
“We’re at five-thousand-feet elevation here, and come wintertime skiers will be zooming down those slopes nearby.” Tolley gestured behind him.
Rebecca smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze Lydia’s hand. “I’m so glad you could come tonight. It’s like old times, the four of us dancing together again. I haven’t had this much fun in a month of Sundays.”
One of the Alexanders came by carrying a plate of food. “Eat all you want, folks, and don’t be backward about it,” he said, winking and joking. “We got plenty and it’s shore good.”
“That goof,” Rebecca said. “Did you know this ranch is in its third generation now? And growing more beloved every year? The lodge is still warm and inviting, serving those wonderful family-style meals, all the cabins rustic and cute, and there’s always something to do here—horseback riding, wagon rides, swimming, croquet, fishing in the lake, great entertainment, or hiking up to the Cataloocheee Divide Trail.” She sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “I read that Cataloochee means ‘wave upon wave’—like the waves of blue mountain peaks rolling away in the distance there.”
Tolley laughed. “You’re starting to sound like those tourist flyers we give away at the realty office, Becca.”
“Oh, hush. I’m simply havin’ a good time. And I can wax poetic if I want to.” She punched at him playfully, then leaned over to kiss him, making John envious. “You know you love me just the way I am, Tolley Aldridge.”
The evening flew by, John enjoying every minute with Lydia and their friends. She greeted their old acquaintances with warmth and affection and talked with humor and interest to the visiting tourists.
Vance Coggins, the lead singer of the Cross-Creek Boys, dropped by to give Lydia a kiss during a short break.
“Wish you’d have brought Mary Beth to sing a number or two with us,” he said to John. “She’s got a fine voice.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.” John clapped him on the back with affection.
“Is Mary Beth still singing?” Lydia asked, after Vance walked away.
John nodded. “Yes. She sings around the valley with bands like Cross-Creek sometimes, occasionally for weddings, and always at church in the choir on Sundays. Will you come to church to hear her?”
Lydia hesitated before saying, “I’m sure I’ll visit one Sunday.”
“Pastor Reilly, the stuffy minister that Mother had in her coat pocket is gone now, Lydia. We have a new minister at Fairview Methodist named Reverend Oliver Wheaton. A mid-years man. Kindly sort. Good preacher. Has a strong tenor voice and is a fanatic bird-watcher.”
John sipped at a glass of cold lemonade. “Perhaps Reverend Wheaton is too much of a bird-watcher, now that I think on it.” He grinned. “The man glanced out the window last Sunday, spotted some sort of rare bird sitting on the cemetery fence rail, and completely lost his train of thought right in the middle of his sermon.”
Lydia giggled, and the sound teased up John’s spine. Being with Lydia all evening, touching her in the moves of their dancing, sitting near her, hearing her voice, and catching the scent of her, had been heady stuff for John.
“Let’s go dance some more,” she said, reaching across to catch his hand. “The band’s started up again.”
Later that evening, after saying good-byes to their friends and driving in the dark down the mountain, John put his hand under Lydia’s elbow to walk her to the door of Hill House.
“I had a good time, John,” she said, dropping her eyes. “Thanks for persuading me to go.”
He leaned in, slipping an arm behind her back. “It was my pleasure.” He let his lips drop to hers, savoring the good-night kiss, yearning for more as he felt her softness against him. “Let me come in, Lydia.”
She stiffened. “No, John.” Her eyes grew troubled and she bit at her lip, drawing away from him.
His mouth tightened. “Can’t you let the past go?”
“Just like that?” Her eyes flashed. “Simply forget everything—walk into a new tomorrow? Not hardly.” She stamped a foot in annoyance.
He gave her a quizzical look as she continued.
“You still don’t understand how much pain I went through in the past here. How your mother hurt me with her subtle insults, digs, and haughty looks every day. Always criticizing me, finding fault with me. Wearing my soul down to the quick.” She turned to look out across the dark yard, hugging herself with her arms as if chilled. “It took me years in Atlanta to begin to feel good about myself again. To like myself. To realize I was a decent and likeable person.”
He frowned. “You always took Mother too seriously.”
She whirled to face him with angry eyes. “And you never took her ongoing attacks against me—and then against the boys—seriously enough. You always said to ‘look the other way,’ ‘turn the other cheek,’ ‘don’t let her get under your skin.’ It made me always feel in the wrong. As if it was my problem and not your mother’s.”
John felt uncomfortable. “Mother was a difficult person, I agree.”
“Difficult?” Lydia’s voice grew almost shrill now. “You still don’t see that she was abusive. Verbally abusive. She wounded people with her words and ways. She wasn’t simply difficult.”
John felt himself stiffen. “I don’t see any point in maligning her now that she’s gone, Lydia. It doesn’t seem respectful.”
She lifted pained eyes to his. “Here’s where our problem is, John. You still don’t understand what I went through, how it felt to me, and why I gradually grew so wounded and hurt that I had to leave. Do you think I wanted that? Wanted to leave my home and break up my family?”
He didn’t know how to reply. “You didn’t have to leave.”
“Yes, I did. I was dying here—like a person being gradually, daily poisoned to death. And you couldn’t see it. You didn’t help me, either, except to tell me to buck up. To toughen up and not let her bother me.”
“That’s how I managed it.” He clenched his jaw, finding her criticism difficult to take. “You always thought I should somehow be able to change my mother, but you can’t change others much in this world. You just have to change yourself to get along.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You’re still doing it, John. You’re still saying that somehow I should have found a way to get along with your mother. You still don’t see why I couldn’t—how hard I tried, but how I simply couldn’t.” She sniffed. “Then when your mother went at the boys later, you expected the same accommodation from them. You told them to buck up and find a way to get along with her. To understand she was ‘just the way she was.’ ”
Irritation needled up John’s spine. “What could I have done differently? Beat up my mother? Thrown her out of her own home after I promised my father I’d care for her? Should I have walked away from the farm and all my responsibilities?”
Lydia shook her head. “No, John. All I wanted, and all the boys wanted, was for you to stand with us sometimes. To stand up for us. To not pretend it wasn’t happening. To not lock your heart away from our pain.”
“That’s overly harsh, Lydia. I never locked my heart away. I always loved you and the boys.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “But not enough. If you love someone, you don’t let another person hurt them again and again, while you stand by and do nothing. There is something inherently wrong with allowing someone to hurt those you love—while you watch and do nothing.”
He rubbed a fist in his palm in annoyance. “You make it sound like I stood by and let her beat on you and my sons.”
“Didn’t you?” she asked, the tears sliding down her face. “John, the wounds of verbal abuse hurt as much as the wounds of physical abuse sometimes. Both are forms of bullying.”
John’s heart hurt from her harsh words. “You always overdramatized the situation with my mother.”
She opened the door and let herself inside. “And you always underdramatized—and overlooked—the situation.” She paused, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “For the boys and me to come back into your life, you have to find a way to see that.”
Lydia shut the door, clicking the lock behind her, leaving John feeling, once again, shut out and misunderstood.