16

 

Fear, deep and intense, pressed around me. My pounding heart sent blood roaring through my ears. Nothing was unusual in the kitchen. There was no explanation for this intense feeling. With a final glance around the kitchen, I fled to the outside.

Once out of the house, the sensation faded. Too much had happened lately for me to believe I had imagined the anger and fear, but I couldn’t explain it any more than I could explain why I had seen ghosts.

I wanted to work where I could see Trina’s bedroom window, which faced the street. So I decided to tackle the weeds growing around the front of the house. High above, Trina’s bedroom window was shrouded in gauzy curtains. What was she doing? Maybe she’d fallen asleep and would awaken in a better mood. I hoped so.

Suspicious, as I trimmed the overgrown bushes that lined the front of the house, I scanned for young marijuana plants. Stopping for lunch, I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. By mid-afternoon, the flower beds flanking the foundation were well on their way to being ready for plants.

I lifted my head when I heard Trina’s voice: time for the usual afternoon iced tea break. I stomped the sand off my shoes, headed to the front porch, and took my usual seat on the swing. Ted and Trina sat in the wicker chairs.

Trina looked better now; the angry scowl gone as she set out a tray of iced tea and cookies. She looked at me over the top of her glass. “Dad, Sandra’s having a few people over to her house tonight for a get together. She wants you to come.”

“Kind of a last minute invite, isn’t it?”

“Actually I’ve known awhile.”

“Sandra tried to ask you at church last Sunday,” Ted added, “but couldn’t find you.”

“So if you both knew, why didn’t one of you tell me?”

“We were afraid you wouldn’t go,” Trina replied.

“I’m not going.”

Trina nibbled her cookie. “But I told her you would.”

I was angry at Trina for accepting an invitation from the woman I was avoiding. I had feelings for Sandra, and that upset me. I didn’t want to like her. I didn’t want to like kissing her. I didn’t want to like the sound of her voice or the feel of her hand when she touched my arm.

For that matter, I didn’t want to like sitting on this porch, or watching the birds peck at seeds in the sand. I didn’t want to like the south. I didn’t know what I did want, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t want this.

“I’m worried about you,” Trina added. “You don’t seem yourself.”

Likewise. “So is this party an answer to your prayer?” The sarcasm escaped before I knew I was going to say it.

Ted rubbed his jaw, like he does when he has something on his mind.

“I’ll go if it’s that important to you.”

My mood sagged even further.

 



 

After our break, I followed Ted to his workshop. I knew if I went back to the front yard and started on the flowers, I would plant all the cheerful-looking pansies roots up, just for spite.

“Doesn’t it seem strange that there aren’t any new leads on Jimmy? How many green blankets can there be in Darlington? Someone in this town has got to suspect somebody.”

Ted scratched his leg with the end of his paintbrush. “If I were the police I would keep any new leads quiet until I had it all worked out.”

“Maybe they should try harder to find Jimmy’s body.”

“They sent out dogs when he was first missing.”

“So do it again.” The lack of activity frustrated me.

“It’s hard on Sandra, not knowing.”

“Not knowing what? The kid’s dead.”

Ted glanced my way. “I don’t think Sandra really believes Jimmy’s dead.”

“But the ghost…I thought…”

“Maybe she has a different explanation for what you saw.”

Ted dabbed blue paint on the canvas, then reached for brown. As his arm flicked the brush across the board, sun reflected off his wedding ring, creating shorts burst of light. I thought of Trina.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” I said. “Trina’s not been herself lately.”

“How so?”

“She’s been moody. Jumped all over me this morning for not putting my dishes in the sink.”

“Don’t worry about it. She’s been working hard on the house.”

“You think that’s it?”

“Hmmm.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t work so hard.”

“You know Trina. She’s not one to sit still.”

“She needs help.”

Ted stared at me, the coldness in his eyes felt like a challenge. “What are you trying to say?”

“She doesn’t look good. She hasn’t looked good since you moved her here.”

“She’s tired, that’s all.”

“Why’s she so tired all of a sudden, Ted? Answer me that?”

“I can’t.”

“You have no right to keep secrets from me. I’m her father.”

“And I’m her husband. If Trina has something to tell you, she will.”

“So she has a secret?”

“Talk to Trina.”

“You should get her out of here. This isn’t a good place for her to be.”

Ted looked at me strangely. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

That took me by surprise. “I thought you loved this house.”

“There’s something about it lately…”

My jaw tightened. Had he seen the demon? “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Forget it.” Ted shrugged his shoulders and focused on his canvas.

“What, now it’s my fault Trina is acting weird?”

“I didn’t say that, Bill.”

“No, you said she only started to act this way recently—maybe since I came back? You want me to leave?”

He stared at me, his mouth gaping. “I never said that.”

“Forget it. If something is weird in the house, it isn’t my fault.” I stomped toward the garage door. Bumping against the workbench, two paint brushes toppled from a paint-stained jar. Red liquid trickled across the wood surface.

It looked like blood. I shuddered.