The Ghosts of Varner Creek (16 page)

“
Sarah?” I said. “Sarah?” There came no answer. I picked up the bucket and dumped the water out, then looked back inside as though there was some hidden door within. But all I saw was the bucket, emptied and shallow.

The coldness of the night and the empty lonely feeling of being out there in the dark with nothing but the image of my sister's head in that bucket was too much. I dropped it and took off back into the house, furiously wiping my eyes as tears cleared away the lye that had stung them. As I went I questioned myself if I had just seen what I thought I had.
What’s happening to me?
I thought. The house was still quiet inside. George was asleep but I could tell he had changed positions yet again since I'd been outside. Obviously he wasn't in the deep slumber that's so hard to wake people from. I thought about shoving him a little to wake him up and tell him what had just happened outside, but I didn't know how I'd tell anyone. Even just thinking it to myself was making me think I might be a crazy person. George would think I'd cracked or made it up. Maybe I had cracked. So instead I just climbed into bed to think on everything. I wasn’t crazy. That had been Sarah’s head out there, just like the time before at my house when I'd seen her reflection, except this time I know I didn’t black out. Something grabbed me and I knew it was her that had I seen in that strange glow. And she said my name. When her lips had moved there was nothing else they could have said but my name. I just knew it. This time, it was real. I wasn’t a dream, I told myself. That was Sarah. I resigned myself that the next day I would tell George what I'd seen. I'd tell him that I was beginning to think Mama and Sarah didn't go to Galveston. I'd tell him that I thought I had seen Sarah's ghost.

I was laying there thinking about her, about the way her face had looked there in the water surrounded by that eerie green glow when I fell asleep. George and I had slept back to back in the small bed and I woke up while it was still dark, feeling something wet against me. Immediately I noted how cold the room was, too cold even for the chilly night outside. I felt like I’d been dipped in icy water from head to toe. Goose bumps riddled my body, particularly the back of my neck and chest. I thought I could feel someone else in the room. I lifted my head enough to look over the curve of my shoulder to see if there was anyone there. I couldn't see anyone, but the little half-moon of mattress left between me and the edge of the bed was slowly being pockmarked with invisible droplets that were magically appearing as though someone was standing there dripping on the sheets. Perfectly dry parts of the blanket suddenly broke out with droplets like it had caught the measles. Although I couldn't see anyone, I knew it was her. I pulled back the sheets and looked at the floor by the bed. Little wet footprints spread out before me in a perfect path out of the room I was sharing with George. But they weren't headed away from the bed, they had been made by someone coming into the room and there weren't any leading back out. Someone had recently walked into our room and something in my gut said that they were still here. I sat up and looked over the edge of the bed and could see a puddle of water slowly accumulating on the hardwood floor. I thought to myself, if she is here, she's there. She's standing right there.

I felt like I was freezing from the inside. I sat looking into the empty space where I thought she must be, intently listening for any sound and looking for any sign of her physical presence. Suddenly a puff of air as though someone breathing caressed my cheek. I cringed backwards quickly, but a moment later I leaned forward and in a whisper I said, "Sarah?"

And as though I had called her to form, there she was. Light sprang forward and it was surrounding her. She appeared just inches from me, staring right at me in that same green mist wearing her pink dress. She was wet all over and reached out for me. I had jerked back in fright again, but after I paused for a moment I found the courage in me to reach out for her hand. I looked at her eyes and felt strangely happy. I felt like I’d just found what I had been looking for. Our fingertips connected and then she was gone. A small breeze of air manifested from where she had been and blew itself over me and George. He stirred a little in his sleep but nothing more. He had no idea what had just happened.

The room suddenly felt empty again except for us. Sarah was gone. The water remained, though. There it was on the floor, her footprints into the room, and the puddle where she had stood. I had proof, I thought. I wasn‘t crazy. I could tell people the things I'd seen now because there was the proof right there on the hardwood floors. Everything seemed to bubble up in me at that moment, the terror of seeing what I could only assume was my dead sister's ghost, the elation that the water had remained proving that I wasn't a nutcase, and an absolute necessity to tell someone. "Aunt Emma!" I yelled. It was a sudden outburst and louder than I had intended. I jumped out of bed and ran towards her and Uncle Colby's bedroom. I pushed open their door and yelled for her again, "Aunt Emma! Aunt Emma, wake up!"

Uncle Colby was snoring loud as ever but Aunt Emma leaned up quickly in the bed, her bird's nest of hair silhouetted by the slight light of the window. "Sol? What's wrong? What is it?"

"Come quick, Aunt Emma, come quick!" I felt around for her arm and when I found it I tried pulling her out of bed.

She came stumbling after me, "What is it, Sol? Somebody hurt? What's going on?"

"I saw her!" I said, "She was in my room!"

Aunt Emma was trying to get her mind out of bed, too, "Who?" she asked, thinking she must have missed something and needed to get caught up on things.

"Sarah!" I yelled. "She was here, right here in my room!" I dragged her into the room by the bed.

By this time George was up, too. He had heard the noise and was looking around frantically trying to figure out who had been in the bedroom while he was sleeping, "Who's here?" he asked frightened, "Where? Where?"

"She was right here," I told him and Aunt Emma, both. I pointed at the puddle on the floor, "See, Aunt Emma, right here. There's her footprints right there."

Aunt Emma looked at the water on the floor. "Well, where'd she go, Sol? Is she in the house?" She took a step towards the door like she was about to search the house.

"She’s gone, Aunt Emma. She disappeared," I told her.

Aunt Emma stopped and gave me a queer look, "What do you mean, disappeared?"

"I saw her earlier, too, Aunt Emma. I went outside to wash up again and I saw her in the bucket."

Now she was kneeling down beside me, "In the bucket? Sol, honey, what in the world are you going on about?"

I knew she'd think I was cracked, but I had my proof. "I'm trying to tell you, Aunt Emma. I think something's happened to Sarah. I think maybe she might be dead and trying to tell me something. I saw her, I swear I did."

"Calm down, Sol, just calm yourself okay. Now, your sister's fine, you here me?

What makes you think something's happened to her?"

"Something has happened, Aunt Emma. I think Sarah's dead and I've seen her ghost."

"Ghost?" cried George. And he pulled the sheets up tight around his neck and started scanning every inch of the room.

"Quiet down, George," Aunt Emma told him. "There ain't no ghosts here." And she had looked back at me when she said it. "Now, Sol, I want you to listen to me. I know you're scared and worried about your Mama and sister, but you didn’t see her ghost, now, yah hear me?"

"But Aunt Emma, the footprints . . ." I had proof!

"I think I know where they come from, Sol. And I'll take care of it, but right now I want you to calm down and think for a sec. Your Mama and Sarah took all their things and the horse and wagon. Now, I don't think anything bad has happened to either one of them. I think someone's pulled a bit of a mean joke on you is all, so don't go getting yourself all worked up. We're going to figure out where they went soon enough and everything will get settled. You just gotta wait and let things find their course. But I don't want you thinking bad thoughts, okay, sweet pie? Ain't no cause to be thinking like that, and there ain’t no such thing as ghosts." She gave me a hug and I could see little tears hiding behind her eyes. I didn't think she wholly believed what she had just told me about finding Mama and Sarah in due course. She was worried, too. And I knew what I had seen.

Aunt Emma did her best to calm George and me, but there was no way either of us was going back to sleep. It was a bout four or five in the morning anyway, so we agreed to get back in bed just until the light said it was time to get up again. Aunt Emma went out of our bedroom right into Amber and Francine's room. George wouldn't let her close our door and we could both hear her storm into their room, "All right!" She yelled at them, both of whom were peacefully sleeping despite my outburst earlier and blissfully unaware of the commotion around them, "Which one did it? Don't play asleep with me girls; I'll tan your hides."

I could just imagine her shaking them both awake in the other room. Then we heard Amber's voice, "Mama?" It sounded sweet and innocent and I felt bad for her because I knew she was innocent of this one.

"Don't Mama me. Whose bright idea was it?" She asked both girls as they groggily awoke.

"What are you talking about, Mama?" I heard Francine ask.

"One of you or both of you have been messing around with George and Sol. Traipsing around my house with wet feet and dripping water on my sheets while they’re sleepin’. Which one was it? huh?"

Both the girls looked at each other dumbfounded. "Mama we ain't been outta bed, I swear," said Amber.

Francine went into a rant, "It's him, Mama! Him and Sol! They done it and now they're trying to blame it on us just to get us in trouble. They pranked us something just like it the other day, Mama, when they poured water in our bed."

"Uh, huh," said Aunt Emma, "and I suppose neither of you thought it'd be funny to play a similar prank on them to get them back, huh?"

"But we didn't, Mama, honest," whined Francine.

"Well, look here," said Aunt Emma, "In any case I've had enough of the practical joking around here. Sol's going through a tough time and things like this just making it worse, you hear?" Both girls were about to be up in protest again, but she cut them off, "Now, I don't wanna hear it! You just do as I say and no more messin' around. Understand?"

They both must have looked like a couple of pitiful martyrs, but since they didn't want to risk getting in more trouble, they just said, "Yes, ma'am," in that automatic way they were used to using.

The next morning they both approached me and George as I was telling him everything that had happened. His eyes were big and although he didn't seem to care much for the idea of ghosts standing in our room at night he didn’t seem to think I was crazy, which I appreciated more than I could say.

Amber and Francine strolled up on us with that girlish swagger that said trouble, "Think that's real funny, don't yah?" asked Amber. "Mama coming in and getting on to us like that for a prank you faked on yourselves just to get us in trouble."

"Yeah, real funny, you shit-heads. We'll see how funny it is when we tell everyone in town how you both still pee the bed," added Francine.

"We don't!" I yelled at her.

"George does," said Amber, "And it don't matter. Everyone will believe it, anyway. Maybe that'll make y’all think twice before y’all try to get us in trouble again."

"We didn't do it," said George. "It was a ghost."

Amber squinted her eyes, folded her arms, and shifted her weight to one leg and puckered her lips like a soured fish, "Oh, shut up George. Like we’re going to fall for that.”

“
Yeah,” said Francine. “A ghost poured water in your bed just like you did ours. You’re both just stupid." And with that her and Francine walked off with the same swagger as before, except a little more triumphantly.

George looked at me and said, "I don't wet the bed. They're just trying to embarrass me."

"It's okay," I told him, "I wouldn't care even if you did, but I know you ain't since I been here. Besides, I think maybe something real bad's happened, George. I know what happened last night and I know it was Sarah that I saw and her in that was in our room." The more I thought about what it might mean, the worse I felt. And before I knew it I was crying. "I think maybe they’re dead, George," I told him. “I think they’re dead,” I said again.

George put his arm around me, "It's all right," he comforted, "Maybe it ain't like you think. Maybe Mama's right and somehow Francine and Amber been playing some kind of joke on yah without us realizing it. I wouldn't put it past 'em."

“
It ain’t them,” I told him. “It was Sarah!”

George took a deep breath, “I believe you. But maybe she ain’t dead. Maybe it’s something else.”

We talked together all day, he and I, not wanting the day to end because we were both scared of what the night might bring. I didn't want to see or feel Sarah's ghost again.

Besides scaring the daylights out of me I didn't want to believe she was dead. Because if she was, where was Mama? Wherever Sarah was, Mama was sure to be. And if they were both dead, I know who'd done it. It was the most evilest thought I could have imagined of him, but it wasn't impossible to see him doing it in my mind. I thought about that one night years back when he had beaten Mama so bad. I also remembered his muddy boots that morning when he told he’d already been out looking for them. Maybe he hadn’t been looking for them at all, but doing something else. The more I remembered the guiltier Pap started looking to me, and before I went to bed that night I told Aunt Emma all of it. She assured me Mama and Sarah were okay, and that everything would work out okay, just wait and see, but she was shaken by what I told her, I could see it in her.