Waiting for Harvey (The Spirits of Maine) (21 page)

“You have nothing to fear from me, Erik,” he assured me as he if he was the most trustworthy being in the Universe.  “You should welcome my arrival,” he told me and a shiver trailed down my spine.

“Why me, Harvey?” I asked. 

“You called to me,” he repeated.

“When you told your tale you stated that you were waiting for us to come.  You used the board, but it was not because we called you,” I argued, worried that I might be provoking him.

“Don’t think to dissect my words, Erik.  You called and I answered.  Accept your part in this.”

I swallowed more of the pine needle tea and stared passed him.  I had been befriended by a ghost with a terrifying past.  From movies and books I had read about getting rid of spirits but I never took it seriously.  I didn’t study the lessons and memorize the methods.  When I needed them most, I could only recall a few flawed details.  There was something about a border of salt and the burning of sage leaves. 

“Harvey, I am a grown man,” I gently reminded him.  “I have a life, far from here.”

“I had a life far from here as well,” he whispered eerily.  “It is behind me now.”

“You have my deepest sympathies…”

“I don’t need your sympathies!” he shouted and the air around him rippled.

“Harvey, I meant no offense,” I apologized meagerly.  “This is your home, but it’s not mine.”

“This is our home now.”

“My apartment is in New York.  I have responsibilities.  I will be missed.”

“Will you?  Nobody has come for you yet, Erik.”

“Only John knows I am here,” I countered.  “Something kept him through the winter and that’s not like him.  Whatever kept him away… well spring is here, and John will be back soon.”

“Will he?” he asked cunningly and his lips spread into a spine-chilling grin.

“Harvey, I beg of you.  I can’t stay here.  This is no place for me.”

“It’s good enough for me.  Are you so much better?  Am I less than you because I’m not longer of the living?”

“Harvey, you are dead!” I thundered, terrifying myself and amusing him.

“I am aware of that.”

“I need to be among living beings,” I explained, lowering my voice.

“As do I.  For more than 90 years I have been confined to this place!  I cannot go on alone!  Do you have no heart, Erik?”

“I am not dead!  You can’t force me to remain here as your living companion!”

“Would you prefer to be my dead companion?” he asked.

“I would not!” I snapped and my stomach churned.

“Erik, you have nothing to fear from me.  I am your guardian angel, your protector.  I saved you when you fell.”

I fought the urge to remind him that he pushed me, causing my fall.  My survival instincts kept me from provoking him unnecessarily.  I watched his smile fade, and his face relaxed again.  He did not smile naturally and I knew in life he had not been a cheerful man.  I felt sure that he had been effortlessly intimidating even before he spoke.

“I will only be here until John comes to get me.”

He chuckled and turned away, “Erik, I need you far more than anyone you will ever meet.  You will stay.”

I blinked, and he was gone again.  The air undulated like the surface of a puddle struck by a pebble.  I had seen him go so many times but had never seen that disturbance in the air.  Fearing that something important had changed, I recoiled.  He had clearly found a new source of strength.  Even without the storms he remained visible for longer periods of time.  What frightened me most was the idea that he was drawing his energy from me.

*

The days grew longer and my view from the cabin showed less brown and gray and more green.  Early wildflowers stretched upward and spread their petals.  I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.  Standing at the railing, the sun warmed my face and a gentle breeze moved my hair.  I hadn’t noticed how long it had grown over the winter.  I rubbed my hand over the full beard that covered my chin.   

Sniffing the fragrant air, I studied the tree line beyond the clearing.  I felt renewed hope that John would be returning soon.  Whatever horrible thing kept him away through the winter wouldn’t keep him forever.  The melting of the snow and ice was done.  The worst of the mud roads were drying rapidly as the end of April closed in.

A new fear crept into my mind, so slowly that I didn’t see it coming.  If John came for me, would Harvey let me go?  Would he give in at last or would John be in danger?  How far would he go to prevent John from taking me away from the cabin?

My heart sank, and the beauty of the spring day was lost.  I dropped my head and stepped back inside.  Through the afternoon, I considered the limited options.  I could refuse to leave with John.  Or I could threaten to take my own life if he insisted that I stay.  He needed a living person, and I would be no good to him if I were dead. 

Before supper, I limped out to the slight pile of wood that remained near the shed.  I was humming for the first time in so long I couldn’t remember.  As I searched the ground behind the cabin for broken branches and other kindling, I started whistling.  I felt some hope that the end was coming.

*

Early in the morning I found a pair of Merganser ducks outside the cabin door.  The wings were bent and twisted and the feathers were damaged.  It looked as if some animal had carried it in its mouth for a long distance.  I remembered travelling to the St John River with Jimmy’s uncle decades earlier.  I wondered how far the animals traveled to satisfy Harvey.  What were they forced to endure to retrieve food for me?

The sun set and the cabin darkened.  I turned on the lights and cooked my supper.  Seated at the table, I ate the roast duck, a handful of fried bark chips and tender fiddleheads.  I turned the page of the book I was reading and noticed the shadow that moved across the window.  My first thought was that John had returned at last and I was elated.  Then the shadow deepened and Harvey appeared.

“Good evening, Erik,” he announced and slipped into the empty chair on the opposite side of the table.

“Hello,” I replied. 

“Would you like to have coffee again?” he asked.

“Of course,” I responded eagerly.  “I missed having coffee to drink.”

He cocked his head curiously.  “Tomorrow there will be beechnuts.  Crush them and use them for your coffee.”

“I would prefer a latte from the coffee barista?”

“What is a coffee barista?” he asked, scowling at me.

“Never mind, Harvey,” I was not in the mood to explain it to him.  “I need to talk with you about my brother.”

“Then talk,” he nodded toward me.

“You know he will come for me soon,” I declared and watched him closely.  His image wavered slightly, and I felt that he was hiding something from me.  He gave no other response.

“Time will tell,” he uttered and folded his hands on his lap.

“He is my big brother, Harvey.  Whatever kept him away will be resolved.  We both know he is coming.”

“If you say so,” he shrugged.

“What do you plan to do when he comes?” I prodded and took another bite of the duck meat.

“Why should I care if he comes?”

“Aren’t you concerned that I will leave with him?”

“No, Erik,” he laughed, making my blood run cold.  “You won’t leave.”

“I need your word that you won’t harm my brother.”

“Why do you think I would hurt him?”

“To keep him away and to keep me here.”

“Erik, you’re not a child.  He can’t very well drag you away against your will.”

“If I chose to go with him then you would harm him?”

“You wound me, Erik,” he declared, clapping his hand over his heart.

“I will take my own life if you hurt him, Harvey.”

“Do you really believe it is a fair trade to give your live to spare a loved one a little pain?  You have no idea what it is like to be among the dead!  Don’t provoke me with stupid threats!”

His anger was building.  I could feel it in the air.  I sat still, waiting for the sky to open and a bolt of lightning to split the table in two.  Minutes passed, but neither of us spoke.  Haughtily, he stared at me and I watched him warily.  I hated the way he intimidated me. 

“Erik, if I relented and allowed you to go…” he began and paused.  “Can you offer any assurances that you will return?”

“Well…”

“Don’t tell me lies.”

“I can’t come back again,” I admitted weakly.

“Exactly,” he nodded.  “I can’t trust you, Erik.  You have too many ideas.  You refuse to accept what is fair and reasonable.  Kill yourself if you must, but you will not leave me here alone.”

I sat stunned by his words.  It was not the response that I had expected from him.  He was willing to let me die rather than to let me go.  When John returned there was nothing to stop him from killing my brother too.  The thought of John’s ghost, there to keep me safe from Harvey, was reassuring until the full realization of that thought hit me.  How far had I sunk?

“You’re not fun when you’re fretful,” Harvey remarked.

“I’m not a show puppet,” I countered.

“Eat your food,” he spoke to me like a father scolding a disobedient child.  “Tonight I have something unique to show you.”  I winced at the possibilities and he smiled again.  “Nothing that will harm you,” he reassured.

Too soon my supper mess was cleared away.  I stepped through the doorway, following the ghost of Harvey Cloutier out onto the dark porch.  The sky above was a deep, inky blue with sparkling stars scattered from one side to the other.  A full, round moon rose slowly, to dominate the heavens.

“It is breathtaking,” I whispered. 

“You’ve seen nothing yet,” he responded and gestured toward one of the heavy old wooden chairs.  I sat, and he moved to sit in the chair beside me.

“It would be good to have a cold bottle of beer tonight,” I asserted.

“That it would,” he agreed.

Watching silently from the porch, I saw a few animals crossing the clearing.  Not far from the cabin I heard the howl of a coyote and I tensed.  Deeper in the woods another one answered.  Something bigger and louder bayed and I was sure it was a wolf.  I felt foolish trusting a spirit to protect me from the predators in the forest.

“You have nothing to fear,” Harvey pledged, sincerely.

I wanted to believe him.  More importantly I needed to foster some trust between us.  If he was lying to me, I would know soon.  The howls grew louder as they came closer.  Fighting my urge to obey common sense and run inside, I remained in the chair.  Under the light of the moon, Harvey’s image glowed beside me.  It was a strangely beautiful thing.

Awestruck, I watched as a pack of coyotes trotted through the opening in the trees.  They jogged by the porch and followed the game trail that disappeared between the trees on the other side.  They didn’t slow to look at me or to sniff the air.  It was as if I wasn’t there… or that I was like Harvey.  The unnerving thought worried me.

Minutes later a massive wolf stepped out onto the path.  I was sure that he was the same wolf that had been inside the cabin.  Such an incredibly powerful creature, he walked with his head held high.  Quickly he vanished through the copse of pine trees again.

Harvey pointed across the clearing, and I turned to look.  There were tiny lights that appeared like the eyes of a small animal, but they were growing larger as I watched.  Something was out there and it glowed like Harvey.

Gradually the thing moved straight toward the cabin.  It took on the shape and size of a man, and another one followed close behind.  I tried to swallow, but my mouth was cotton dry.  I rocked forward, gripping the porch railing as I gazed at them.  They were approaching, and I couldn’t pry my fingers loose if my life depended upon it.

“Corporal, are you at the ready?” the bigger man demanded, boldly.

“Sir, Leftenant, Sir!” the second man responded sharply, scrambling to keep pace.

“Step lively, there are savages about!”

“Sir, Leftenant, Sir!”

Pushed by the cool breeze, feathery clouds floated across the face of the moon, and the images glowed brighter.  They were defined enough to reveal their British uniforms.  In history books, I had seen the Red Coats lined up and ready for battle.  Seated there beside Harvey, I watched as the ghosts of the two men found the trail the animals had taken and vanished behind the trees.

“Were they real, Harvey?” was all I could manage.  I felt like a small child watching an amazing spectacle that was beyond belief.

“They are the spirits of dead men.”

“Do they come often?”

“From time to time,” he replied.  “Under the full moon tonight I knew they would come and they would be easier to see.  Did you hear them speak?”

“I did!” I responded, excitedly.

An owl swooped low to grab a mouse from the dead grass.  Clutching the squirming rodent in its talons it circled around and landed nearly in the top of an old pine tree.  I was grateful when the clouds dulled the moonlight and spared me any more of the owl’s business.