Authors: Terri Reid
“Chief Alden,” Bradley’s voice boomed in her cell phone.
“Hi,” she replied. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure, what’s up?” he asked.
“Courtney Rasmussen is dead,” she replied, her eyes filling
with tears.
She took a deep breath and continued. “I saw her ghost in
the park.”
“Damn it,” Bradley said softly. “Does her mother know?”
Nodding, even though he couldn’t see her, Mary replied,
“Yes, she was here in the park with me.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Well, you know,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s pretty
much the worse day of your life when you find out your loved one is dead.”
She wiped the tears away with a swipe of her arm and took
another deep breath. “She’s upset. She’s crying and she says she needs to be
alone.”
“And how are you taking it?” Bradley asked gently.
“I hate it,” Mary replied, tears flowing steadily now. “I
hate telling people things that change their lives for the worse.
I hate making people cry. I hated making
Celia cry.”
“Do you want me to be logical or just understanding?” he
asked.
A soft gurgle of laughter escaped her lips and she sniffed
back some tears. “Understanding at first, then logical,” she replied, pulling a
handful of tissues out of the box on the seat of her car and blotting her eyes
and nose.
“Okay, you’ve got it,” he said, a touch of sadness in his
voice. “It’s not fair that you have to tell people about their loved ones.
It’s not fair that you are given situations
where you can’t fix anything; you just have to stand by and watch bad things
happen. It’s not fair that you are so tenderhearted that every ghost you meet
and every person you help steals away a bit of your heart.”
Sniffing again, she nodded. “That was very good,” she
replied.
Chuckling softly, he continued. “But…”
“Are you doing logical already?” she complained.
“Yes,” he said, “Because you need the logic now. Let me ask
you, do we know more about Courtney’s death than we ever did before?”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“And now we are closer to catching the person who did it?”
“I think so.”
“And that’s true for all the people you have helped.
You didn’t cause the situation. But you are a
solution for people who are hopeless. You don’t cause the pain, Mary, you offer
hope.”
“But it still hurts,” she said softly.
“Of course it does,” he replied, “Because you care about
people. And that’s one of the reasons I love you.”
“I love you too,” she responded, wiping her eyes once again.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “And that makes me the luckiest guy
in the world.”
She took a deep breath and nodded through her tears. “Thank
you for talking to me,” she said. “It really helped.”
“Good,” he said. “So, I can be home around eight thirty.
Will that work?”
She thought for a moment. “Well, I’ll give Clarissa her
dinner early, but let her stay up a little late, so when you get home, she can
spend some time with you,” Mary suggested. “Then, I’ll have our dinner ready at
about nine fifteen or so.
How does that
sound?”
“It sounds perfect,” he replied. “Thank you for being so
understanding.”
She felt a twinge of guilt at being less than understanding
these past few days, but brushed it off. “No problem,” she said. “I’ll see you
at eight thirty.”
“Clarissa,” Mary called from the kitchen. “Dinner will be
ready in a few minutes, so wash up and come downstairs.”
A few minutes later Clarissa jogged down the stairs,
stopping several steps before the floor. “Isn’t my dad home?” she asked.
Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, Mary walked over to the
entrance of the living room. “No, honey, remember I told you he had to work
late,” she explained. “So, I’m going to have you eat your dinner early so you
have time to visit with him later.”
Folding her arms over her chest, Clarissa glared at Mary. “I
don’t want to eat early,” she said. “I want to eat with my father.”
“Well, sorry, that’s just not going to work tonight,” Mary
replied, heading back into the kitchen. “But maybe later this week he can be
home on time and you can eat with him.”
Pulling the bubbling casserole of homemade macaroni and
cheese out of the oven, Mary placed it on a trivet on the counter. She pulled a
plate down from the cabinet and added some of the pasta, a green salad and some
sliced chicken breast. “I made you all of your favorites,” she continued, “To
make up for not eating with him.”
“I hate all of that,” Clarissa replied, as she walked to the
kitchen doorway and slumped against the frame.
Mary picked up the plate and brought it over to the table,
placing it in front of Clarissa’s chair. “Wow, that’s too bad,” Mary said.
“Because that’s what’s on the menu tonight.”
“I bet you aren’t going to eat this kind of food when my dad
gets home,” she argued. “I bet you’re going to have some really good stuff.”
Mary walked back to the counter, stuck a fork into the
macaroni and cheese and took a bite. “This is really good stuff,” she said,
enjoying the thick cheesy sauce and soft noodles so much she took another fork
full. “Actually, this is pretty much incredible.”
“Well, I’m not going to eat it,” Clarissa shouted.
Mary nodded, sticking the fork back into the pan, “Okay,
I’ll call you when Bradley gets home.”
“What?” the child
asked,
astonished.
“I’ll call you when your dad gets home,” Mary repeated. “You
can just do your homework for now.”
“But I’m starving,” Clarissa said.
Mary looked up at her and smiled. “Oh, well,
good
,” she said. “Your dinner is on the table.”
“But I want something else,” she insisted.
Shaking her head, Mary scooped up one more
fork
full. “There isn’t anything else for dinner,” she said.
“This is it.”
Mary watched the internal struggle the child was having and,
although she didn’t understand why Clarissa was being so disagreeable, made
sure she kept her face as neutral as possible.
“Fine,” Clarissa finally exclaimed. “I’ll eat it.”
She stormed from the doorway to the table and shoved her
chair a few inches back in order to sit in it.
Then she proceeded to shove the food into her mouth without attempting
any conversation with Mary.
Picking up a glass of ice water, Mary walked over to the
table and sat across from her daughter. “So, how was school today?” she asked
politely, sipping slowly on the water.
Clarissa looked down at her plate and continued to eat,
ignoring Mary.
“It’s about time we did some shopping for spring and summer
clothes, don’t you think?” Mary asked. “I think you could probably use some new
shoes too.”
Shoving an oversized helping of macaroni and cheese into her
mouth, Clarissa nearly choked, rather than answer the question.
Mary took another sip of water and acted as if she didn’t
realize Clarissa was being rude. “I’m so glad you changed your mind about the
dinner,” she said brightly. “It seems as though you were starving. Would you
like a little more?”
Clarissa set down her fork, glared at Mary across the table
and then darted from the room and up
the stairs. Sighing, Mary
collected up the empty plate and utensils and took them over to the sink.
“I would have gotten my bottom spanked for that kind of
behavior,” Mike said, appearing next to the counter. He looked down at the
casserole and smiled. “Now that looks, excuse the pun, heavenly.”
“Thanks,” Mary replied, stepping over and taking one more
taste. “It really tastes good too. And I don’t seem to be able to resist it.”
“So, why didn’t you?” he asked.
“Why didn’t I what? Tan her hide?” Mary replied with a
smile.
“Yeah, or stand her in the corner, or give her a time out,
or whatever it is parents do these days.”
Giving up, Mary pulled a bowl from the cabinet, filled it
with the macaroni and cheese and brought it over to the table.
She sat down and took a bite before replying.
“Today I sat with a woman who learned that her daughter had been killed eight
years ago,” Mary said. “She had a feeling it had happened, but today I had the
distinct privilege of confirming that for her. Killing any hope she might have
had lingering in her heart.”
Mike leaned over and placed his hand over hers. “Mary, I’m
sorry.”
She shrugged, wiping a stray tear away. “Well, anyway, I
guess Clarissa’s temper tantrum didn’t seem to be that big of a deal,
considering,” she said. “And it must be tough for her to adjust, once again, to
our new household.”
She took another bite and then smiled. “Besides, I’m the
stepmother,” she said. “I think it’s my duty to be exceptionally nice and
remove the stigma that has been perpetrated by storytellers for generations.”
Smiling, Mike nodded. “I’m sure stepmothers all over the
world are thanking you for your patience. But have you considered what lesson
she learned tonight?”
Mary took another bite and contemplated his comment.
Finally, she spoke, “Well, let’s see…she was rude and demanding and didn’t want
to eat what I had made for her.
I was
polite and firm and didn’t let her bully me or make me angry.
She ended up eating what I had cooked and I
didn’t let her bother me.
I think she
learned that polite and firm wins.”
Mike wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know, Mary,” he said.
“Something tells me she has not even begun to fight.”
“Mike, don’t worry,” Mary said. “I’m sure everything will be
fine.”
Driving slowly through the streets of Freeport, he checked
his review mirror a number of times. So far no one seemed to be following him,
but he had been spooked by the meeting with the Chief of Police all day.
Did he
know something more than he let on,
he wondered.
Was he just waiting for someone to show fear?
He pulled to a stop at an intersection, waiting for the
light to turn green and thought about the little girl waiting for him in his
basement and, for a moment, the worries of the day disappeared.
He slowly moistened his lips with his tongue,
anticipating how she would taste. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter
as he envisioned her young slender form. He smiled when he thought about the
stark fear burning in her eyes as he taught her the lessons of the day.
He had always wanted to be a teacher, he thought, his mood
turning melancholy.
He had always wanted
to be near children.
Small
children.
Little girls.
The harsh beep of a car’s horn startled him. He looked
around, surprised that cars were moving around him and the light had been green
for a while.
He smiled into his rearview
mirror, waved at the car behind him in apology as he accelerated and moved
through the intersection.
Insolent idiot
, he silently fumed at the
driver,
go around me next time. I’m sure
you don’t have anything to do that’s as important as what I have to do.
Turning right onto the residential road, he entered the
tree-covered lane and felt some of the anxiety lessen.
The houses that bordered the meandering
street were set far apart from each other and backed up to the edge of
Krape
Park.
It was like
entering a hidden valley, where you could find solitude, rest and privacy.
His smile widened.
Privacy.
Yes, that is very important to me
and all of the students who have enjoyed the pleasure of my tutelage.
A discreet tap on the remote had the large gates to his
driveway opening for him.
He drove
through, smiling wryly at the words on the bronze plaque inserted into the
stone post on the left side.
Pine Haven
.
He pressed the remote again and the gates closed and locked.
The evening was clear and calm, so he rolled down his window
and enjoyed the pungent smell from all of the young pines trees that had been
planted during the past ten years in his large yard. “Hello girls,” he
whispered. “Soon another young sapling will join your ranks.”
“Daddy, I’m so glad you’re home!” Clarissa cried, leaping
off the bottom step and throwing herself into his arms as he walked through the
door.
“Clarissa, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Bradley asked,
kneeling down and embracing the sobbing child.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she wept. “I was so afraid.”
Holding her shoulders, he gently pushed her back a little to
look at her face. “Why are you afraid?”
“Because Mary hates me,” she whimpered. “She doesn’t want me
to be here.
She told Mike that you were
going to abandon me.”
Bradley looked up to see surprise on Mary’s face as she
hurried into the living room. “Clarissa, I don’t hate you,” she said, kneeling
down next to the child. “And I’m very sorry that you misunderstood me. But your
father and I are not going to abandon you.”
She laid her hand on Clarissa’s shoulder, only to have it
shrugged off as Clarissa clung to her father. “She’s lying,” she cried. “She
made me eat dinner tonight all by myself and even when I told her my stomach hurt,
she still made me eat it.
I had to go
upstairs and throw up.”
“What?” Mary asked. “You didn’t tell me you were sick.”
Burying her head deeper into her father’s shoulder, she
continued to cry. “I tried to tell her, but she was too busy laughing with
Mike,” she said. “She never, ever listens to me.
She just sends me up to my room as soon as I
get home from school.”
Bradley met Mary’s eyes over his daughter’s head and saw
that she was deeply troubled by Clarissa’s accusations.
He also knew that Mary would never do anything
to cause harm or discomfort to the child.
But something was up with Clarissa and he didn’t think he would be able
to find out while she was in Mary’s presence.
He winked at Mary and sent her what he hoped was a reassuring smile,
picked Clarissa up in his arms and carried her toward the stairs. “Come on,
sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s have a little talk.”
Her heart sinking, Mary watched Bradley and Clarissa go
upstairs. She really wanted to follow, wanted to be part of the conversation to
find out what in the world was happening with Clarissa.
But she knew it wouldn’t be helpful, so she
sat down on the couch and waited.
“No one told me kids could be so difficult,” Mike said,
appearing next to her on the couch.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Mary replied. “From her
description, you’d think I was the evil stepmother.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I can’t believe you were going to
abandon her.”
Mary turned quickly to face him. “Mike,” she said sharply.
Grinning, he shook his head. “I was joking,” he replied. “We
all know she was being overly dramatic.
We also all know you and know you would die before either hurting
Clarissa or letting someone else hurt her. So, stop worrying and let Bradley
handle it.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Babe, I’m always right,” he said. “See, that’s where you
made your mistake. I was Mr. Right and you didn’t see it.”
A shadow of a smile flitted across her face. “Mike, you were
already dead.”
“Babe, then I was dead-right.”
Shaking her head and chuckling, she stood up and walked
toward the kitchen. “Well, I guess I should put some of the dinner things away
until Bradley gets downstairs,” she said. “I don’t want his dinner to be
ruined.”
“Hey, he’ll be down in a few minutes,” he said. “I heard
Clarissa asking him to read her a story.”
“She’ll probably ask for the entire
Encyclopedia Britannica
,” Mary muttered.
Shaking his head, Mike floated over. “No, I think she asked
for the Old Testament,” he teased. “But at least it has a good message.”
Groaning, Mary shook her head. “You are really not helping,”
she said.
“Hey, don’t worry about it kid,” he said softly and then he
grinned. “This too shall pass.”
“Go away,” she chuckled.
He started to fade. “Your wish is my command,” he teased.
“I’ll go upstairs and keep an eye on things.”
Mary filled the dishwasher, cleaned the counters and did
anything else she could to keep herself busy in the kitchen while she waited
for Bradley to come downstairs.
Finally,
after waiting for an hour, she opened the freezer, pulled out a pint of dark
chocolate ice cream and opened a drawer and pulled out a spoon. “I’ll just have
a couple of spoonfuls,” she promised herself as she headed to her recliner to
watch the news.
Thirty minutes later, the news program ended and Mary looked
down in dismay at the empty container of ice cream in her hand. “Well, so much
for self-control,” she said. “I’ll just have a salad for dinner whenever
Bradley comes down.”
Bringing the container and spoon back into the kitchen, she
was slightly alarmed when she saw that it was already past ten o’clock. “If he
stays up there much longer, I’ll be making him breakfast.”
Hurrying up the stairs, she walked softly down the hallway,
trying to make as little noise as possible.
Standing outside Clarissa’s bedroom door, she grasped the door handle and
waited, listening for any sounds coming from the room.
Finally, she slowly turned the knob and
pushed the door open slightly.
Through
the light from the bedside lamp, she could see that Clarissa was sound asleep
in her bed and Bradley was sleeping in the rocking chair next to her.
Smiling wryly, she tiptoed into the room and
bent close to Bradley’s ear. “Bradley,” she whispered. “You need to go to bed.”
“
Mmmmmm
?” he whispered back, his
eyes not opening.
She gently jiggled his shoulder. “You need to go to bed,”
she repeated softly. “Or you will have a terrible backache in the morning.”
Opening his eyes, he looked up at her and smiled. “Hi,” he
said. Then everything seemed to click into place as he looked around the room
and saw Clarissa asleep in her bed.
He
turned back to Mary and shook his head. “Oh, Mary, I’m so sorry.”
She kissed him on the cheek and smiled. “No problem,” she
said. “I know you were exhausted. Do you want something to eat or do you just
want to sleep?”
He stood, nearly stumbling, and she led him out of the room,
closing the door softly behind them.
He
yawned widely and leaned against the wall. “I think I’m more tired than
hungry,” he said. “Do you mind?”
“No, actually, I find that I’m not very hungry either,” she
replied. “Let’s just go to bed.”