Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island (9 page)

“I don’t remember anything,”
he answered. As far as he was concerned, this subject was off limits.

“He saw the white light
.” His mother shook her head knowingly. “And Allison saved him, so she could marry him someday. Who wants cake?” His mother got busy with desserts.

The sugar rush left the kids giddy, happier than they had been for almost six months
. They pretended to be circus performers and jumped from couch to couch in the den. Their laughter brought tears to his eyes, his loneliness a tangible thing. Had Allison been there, they would had traded glances, eyes meeting in shared enjoyment in love with the kids’ antics. His sister called during her break to check up on him, so he spoke to her while he loaded the dishwasher.

“Man, it’s like the work never ends
. Fill the dishwasher, clean it out, laundry, food shopping, we’re out of bananas. I need a clone.”

“That
’s called a wife.” The instant she said it she regretted it. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

“Stop, Lee,” he assured her
. “We are not gonna spend the rest of our lives pretending something didn’t change. I’m still me and...” He thought for a way to explain what he wanted to say. “I don’t want you walking on eggshells around me. I’m tougher than you think.”

“It’s not that, Paul
. It’s so raw.”

“It will always be raw.”

“I promise you it won’t. The first of everything is tough then you set up new routines and finally there comes a day when you can’t remember exactly when Ally was there or not there.”

“And you’re speaking from your vast experience.”

“Divorce is a type of death too,” she said and paused,  her voice thick, “at least you’ve got the kids. Billy took our dog.”

“I always said he was a bastard.”

“Love is blind. Don’t lecture me tonight. I have to go back to work. I…It was really hard at first. Our friends melted away. I know what it’s like to be alone, and the one thing is, Paul, you are not alone.”

He
felt tears burn the back of his eyes. He couldn’t speak, but he wouldn’t let his sister know. Swallowing hard, he said softly, “I wish I didn’t have to be here.”

“But you do,”
she said. “Those kids need you. Allison doesn’t.”

He
thought for a minute and said, “Lee…”

“
Yeah, what Paul?”

“
Did…Do you ever…” He didn’t know even where to start. How do you share a nervous breakdown? “I don’t know. Nothing…”

“
Paul. Allison was your life. This is going to be hard. You were so close.” She paused and he heard her swallow. “Listen, a lot of the time it made me jealous.”

“
Jealous? You’re crazy.” No I am crazy, he thought.

“You don’t understand
. She was your world and nobody else mattered. You never needed anyone but Allison.” Lisa paused. “I’m not bitter about it. I’m glad one of us had that kind of love.”

“Maybe I’d be better off if I didn’t love her so much.”

They were both silent and then Paul began, “Lee, I’m having dreams. Bad dreams.” He paused weighing whether he should share all the information. “Sometimes even when I’m awake.” There he said it. Did he feel relieved? Not yet.

“
Paul. It’s normal. Grief comes in so many ways. You are exhausted. Maybe, maybe you need some medication.”

“
Nope. It’s just dreams. No medicine. I don’t want to get on that train.”

“
Depression can do lots of strange things. How about a bereavement group? You know, at the Y.”

He
sighed, and she heard his despondency. “I don’t have time. I don’t have time for this.”

“
Look, I got to go back. If you need to talk, call me later. I’ll be home by two.”

The kids surrendered easily to bedtime
, and Paul got the book out of the car. Their bellies full, they appeared content. He visited their rooms, kissed each good night, and was satisfied most with Jesse, who seemed to be more at peace.

“I still miss her, Dad.”

“You’re always going to miss her, Jess. Know that she’s around you all the time.”

“I wish I could believe that
,” Jesse said wistfully as he shut the lights.

Paul thought,
so do I, but chose not to share.

Making sure he was alone in the den, he opened
the book to the page of the portrait of Hannah Andrews. Her luminous face stared up at him. He then pulled an old photo album from the bookcase and found a picture of Allison at eighteen. There were subtle differences; a dimple that Ally had was missing from Hannah’s cheek. A dainty mole decorated Allison’s upper lip. The hair was off by a shade and Hannah was softer, where Allison had the toned body of an athlete. His head cupped in his hand, something nagged at his memory. It was ten o’clock and his in-laws might be sleeping, but they were leaving too early for him to wait for tomorrow. He dialed their number, and his mother-in-law answered, her voice low.

“Paul, is everything
all right?”

“Everything’s fine
, June. I’m sorry I’m calling so late, but I have a question that can’t wait. Did I wake you?”

“No
, dear. I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

He grunted in agreement
.

“Yes, I know you understand
. What is it?”

“I know your family is from the area. Do you know how long?”

“Well, Al’s family came from Poland. They farmed on the east end for about four generations. There is still a cousin who sells strawberries to the Hampton crowd.”

“Really?”
He appeared politely interested but wished she’d get to the point.

“Why do you need to know?”

“Stella has an ancestry project.” Where did that come from, he wondered. “She forgot to ask about it at dinner. I couldn’t answer some of the questions. So Al’s family has been here how many years?”

“They arrived in the early teens
. Oh, about 1914 or so. Now the Bakers, that’s my side, we go back hundreds of years. In fact, you know Baker Street in Cold Spring Harbor?”

“Sure.”

“That’s named for my five-time great grandfather. He was a...What did they call that a...barrel maker.”

“Cooper.”

“Exactly. For the ships out here. Now my mother’s side, they were Irish and in service. You know what that means.”

He didn’t have a clue
. “Not at all.”

“Her family came over from Europe with an old family here
. You were friends with one of the boys. I never liked that family. The Andrewses. She worked on the estate as a maid. I’m ashamed to admit this.”

He
fell back onto the couch silently. He had a funny feeling where this was going.

“Paul, please don’t share this with the children
. My family has always been embarrassed by it.”

“What, that someone was a maid?”

“No, my ancestor had an affair with Geoffrey Andrews and I am the descendant of that ill-fated union.”

He
stared at the two pictures, speechless. “Whoa,” he choked out.

“
You’re not upset, are you?”

“Don’t be silly, Junie
. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well
, in truth, it may not have been an affair...” Her voice became a low whisper. “It’s been passed down that she was not a willing participant, if you know what I mean. I’m glad you asked. I never told Allison, but now, I don’t know, I don’t want the story to die with me.”

“Do you want me to share it with the kids?”

“When the time is right, I suppose.” They sat in comfortable silence. “You know Ally loved you from the day she was born. She was always meant for you. And you were meant for her. I never saw two people as in love as you and Allison. She used to watch you; her great, silver eyes followed you everywhere. There was that time, you remember, when you started college.”

“Huh,”
he agreed. “I never meant a word of that. I thought that was what I was supposed to do.”

“It broke her heart, when you told her you wanted to date others
. ‘Mom, he belongs to me,’ she would tell me. I told her that if she really loved you, she had to let you go.”

He
tried to say something, but his voice failed. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“You were a kid
. And you needed to sow those wild oats.”

“She let me go. She understood
. She cried so hard.”

“But you returned, as I knew you would.”

“So I did,” he whispered.

“And look at the beautiful family you made together
. Paul, you will see her again. I promise. But you have work to do here.”

“Work, work, work, work, work
,” he said playfully. “June, you have no idea how much I miss her.”

“Oh yes I do, my boy, oh yes I do
.” Her voice brightened, and she said, “So you’ll come down with the kids for Easter?”

“Either
presidents’ week or Easter, depends on how the holidays fall. You’ll be back for Christmas?”

“We wouldn’t miss it.”

“Safe drive, June.”

====

He sat in the darkened room, the TV illuminating his face. “Wow” was all he could say. So, there was nothing spooky about the resemblance between his wife and Hannah Andrews. No hocus-pocus; they were related. Distantly but definitely. They shared a gene pool that created a likeness, nothing more. Maybe, he could file the freakish coincidences away into the X files. Dreams, depression, like his sister said, grief explained it...

A scream of pure horror split the peace of the house
. Without thinking, he ran to Jesse’s room to find his son knuckling his eyes, screaming his throat raw. Sobbing, he reached blindly for his father, curling up against him.

“Shhh, Jesse, what’s the matter
? Stop...” Paul cuddled his son.

“It was this thing
. This horrible—” He hiccupped and could barely continue. “It smelled so...Oh Dad. It had Mom. She was trapped and it was growling. I could see her; it had big, hairy shoulders and a tail...”

“Stop, a dream
. Nothing more. Do you want a drink?”

“I’ll get it.” Veronica stood in her nightgown at the open door. She turned and Jesse calmed.

“It was horrible. Mom is in trouble,” he insisted.

“No she’s not, Jess
. She’s OK.” He held his son at arm’s length. “Have I ever lied to you?” He studied his child’s tear-drenched eyes.

Jesse shook his head, still trying to stifle a sob.

“Thank you, Roni.” He took the water from his daughter. “She is fine. She’s watching over us making sure we follow all her rules. Mom couldn’t be anywhere else. This is where her heart is.”

Jesse looked at him skeptically
. He tucked in his son, wrapping him in his quilt, staying beside him until soft snores told him the night terrors had vanished. Quietly, he eased out of the room leaving the door open a bit wider. Veronica came next.

“He’s al
l right. Just a bad dream,” Paul said as he walked her to her room. “The dreams feel real, because we all miss her. It will start to get better.”

“Why, because we will stop missing her?” she demanded, her eyes wounded
.

“
No, sweetie. We will always miss Mommy. It’s just as time passes, it gets less. It hurts less.”

“I don’
t know if I want it to hurt less,’” Veronica whispered.

“What?” He asked her, “
Why?”

“
Because if it hurts less, maybe we’re forgetting her.”

“Oh baby, you’
re never going to forget Mommy. You’re…”  He kissed her head, tears stinging his eyes. Maybe he did need help with this. It was beyond his capabilities as a parent to answer his children. Jesse was seeing the same hairy monsters he was, Stella was talking to the dead, and Veronica held her grief to her like a blanket, afraid to let it go. “I just know we’ll never forget Mommy, but the pain will ease.”

She
rolled over, closed her eyes, and was instantly asleep.

Now I need a drink, he thought. He walked over to the group of bottles they kept in the living room in an improvised bar
. He headed straight for the Scotch and poured two fingers then draining it in one gulp. How am I going to do this? How could she leave me? How could I bring up three kids alone, without a wife? His angry thoughts boiled in his head. Furious, he smashed the glass into the sink, regretting it instantly. Stella walked sleepily into the kitchen. “What happened?” she asked.

“I dropped a glass. Go to sleep
. It was nothing,” he told her.

He felt the liquor start to warm him, welcoming the numbness it would bring
. He poured another glass, went to his bedroom, gulped it down, and threw himself on the bed. The lights were out, the room pitch dark, the house silent. He heard his own breathing; his eyes drifted shut and then he knew nothing.