Where Darkness Dwells (35 page)

Read Where Darkness Dwells Online

Authors: Glen Krisch

Tags: #the undead, #horror, #great depression, #paranormal, #supernatural, #ghosts

"You know, that sounds great. Saturday?" he said, thinking out loud. He put down the butter knife coated in peanut butter and scratched his chin in thought. "Yeah, Saturday's free."

"Good. Around noon?"

"We'll be there noon sharp. That way I can drop off the hutch I'm building for your Mom." Mr. Banyon pointed to a beautiful oak hutch that looked to be about halfway to completion.

Jacob didn't know what to say. Mr. Banyon could see his surprise and laughed to himself.

"Don't say nothin', mind you, it's a gift for all the kindness she's shown my family."

Jacob nodded.

"It's like… what do you call it? Restitution? For all I've done."

The back door opened and in walked Ellie, all smiles and glowing cheeks. They exchanged pleasantries, and Jacob told her about the potluck. As they talked, she seemed about the happiest girl in the world.

Jacob had to beg off a prolonged stay. As they chit-chatted, Mr. Banyon treated him like an old friend, even though they had rarely shared a civil word before now. When Jacob was at the door, ready to leave, Ellie whispered into his ear, "He was mad when he saw that Georgie took his over/under, but that didn't last. He's really changed this time. It's gonna be fine."

"I hope so."

From inside the truck cab, Jacob waved to the Banyons as they stood on the front porch. Mr. Banyon's hand rested on his daughter's shoulder, and despite Jacob's continued concern, they looked like how a family should.

 

 

Jacob stopped in town and everyone he invited from the list accepted. Both Magee and Bo, as always tending their quiet barber shop, agreed that a potluck was just what the town needed to get on with things. Mr. and Mrs. Hauser accepted, as did the Nightingales. Both families expressed their relief at hearing the news about Jimmy's whereabouts. They said he'd come home strong and focused, ready for the challenges of providing for a family. Jacob fought off a knot forming in his stomach that tightened at hearing their words. He had to put on an agreeable expression just to get through all the well wishes.

Jacob found Sheriff Bergman's office empty, for which he was grateful. He would act as if Jacob was trying to trick him or make him look a fool. He decided he would invite the sheriff if he ran into him, but he wouldn't make much of an effort to make it happen.

Mrs. Nagy accepted for her family of eight, agreeing to bring a big platter of deviled eggs. Before he left their house on the edge of town, she let him know that word had been getting around that Jasper Cartwright had taken ill. In an ominous tone she mentioned that it didn't look good, and the oldest man in Coal Hollow would certainly be too weak to attend. While Jasper's name was on the list, Jacob agreed with Mrs. Nagy.

"I guess I won't drop by his room, then. It would be hard on him knowing he'd have to turn it down for the sake of his health." He left for the next name on the invite list.

Returning to the truck, he had to admit to himself that a stronger reason kept him from inviting Jasper Cartright. He simply couldn't bear to face a man who had always been a model of vitality relegated to a sick bed. He finished the loop through town, feeling confident in his improving driving skills, crossing off the names as he went. He didn't find Dr. Thompson in his office and assumed he was either caring for Jasper Cartwright or off on some other house call. He made a mental note to double back to Thompson's office as long as it didn't get too late.

So, only Cooper's name remained. His mom had been selective in who she invited. She had omitted Louise's parents. They wouldn't accept even if they were invited, so it was no skin off his nose. Plenty of other people from town weren't on the list, people who they didn't associate with. Hank Calder was too abrasive to have a good time at a potluck, while his daughter Thea was a complete snoot. But the absence of Greta's name bothered him the most. He checked his pocket watch. Since he was making good time, he headed to her tree house.

 

"Mom sent me out to invite people to a potluck this coming Saturday."

"But you came here." Greta didn't have any of her famous cornbread awaiting his arrival. She seemed surprised to see him.

"Of course, to invite you and Arlen."

"But your mom didn't ask you to invite me, did she?"

Jacob felt panicky. Could he tell her without hurting her? "Uh, no. I suppose not."

"I appreciate you coming here, Jacob. Most times people forget about Arlen and me, which most times is for the best. Sometimes it feels like people come over, hear whatever I have to tell them, then disappear until the next time they need to hear about my visions."

"I don't do that."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about you. You or your brother, or most the other kids in town. It's the adults who can live without me until they're desperate enough to climb those steps to knock on my door."

"Will you come?"

"I bet you thought it would be a good idea if I should just show up, maybe have your mom and me talk, is that it?"

"Well, if I talk to her about you coming, maybe she'll change her mind. I bet it was just a mistake, leaving you off the list."

"It wasn't no accident, Jacob. You're mom's no fool. Even if you asked and she changed her mind, she wouldn't want me to show. She doesn't want discussing of things when she's not ready to listen. No, it's better off. Next week you come by and we'll talk about what a nice time everyone had."

 

 

During the drive to Cooper's house, Jacob was angry with his mom. He wanted Greta at the potluck. More importantly, he wanted Greta and his mom forced in a situation where they might talk. Even Arlen could be entertaining at times, that is, for him being a nitwit bastard and all. Jacob was in such a foul mood he barely enjoyed the bumpy trip on the lightly-traveled dirt road to Cooper's.

He walked up to Cooper's wrap around porch. After repeatedly knocking on the door for more than minute, Jacob was ready to give up. Cooper was probably just not home. But Jacob wanted him at the party. It would be his first opportunity to be around him since that day at Greta's. The first time he could observe him and figure out his role in finding Jimmy.

Jacob was halfway back to the truck, resigned to having missed out on seeing Cooper, when the front door opened.

"Yes?" Cooper said, poking his head outside. At first sight, he appeared to have aged twenty years. When he noticed Jacob, he opened the door and stepped out, closing it before a single ray of sunlight could warm the floor inside. He brushed the white plaster dust from his clothes and hair, just now realizing how dirty he was. With most of the dust shaken off, his age reverted to normal.

"Hi, Coop. I was just stopping by to invite you to a potluck at our house."

Cooper blinked, as if just opening his eyes from a long slumber. "Potluck?"

"Sure. Everyone brings a dish, kinda like a big picnic."

"Okay."

Jacob waited further questioning, but Cooper simply stared at him vaguely, and seemed distracted. He glanced over his shoulder at a front window, but for just a second.

Jacob looked to where Cooper's gaze had fallen, and he would've sworn he saw movement coming from inside. Someone stepping out of sight, maybe, behind the sheer curtain. Or it could've been a breeze billowing the lightweight material.

But those windows are painted closed,
Jacob thought, curious.

Cooper put a hand to his mouth and let out a harsh cough. "Sorry, I'm replastering the hallway leading upstairs."

Jacob turned from the window, drawn away from further wondering. Once again Cooper was quiet but impatient, and Jacob remembered why he was here. "It's this coming Saturday, at noon. It'll be fun."

"Okay. I'll be there." Cooper nodded then moved to shut the door. He looked up, as if something had just crossed his mind. "Beans."

"Beans?"

"Tell your mom I'll bring a pot of baked beans. I have a family recipe." He nodded once again and closed the door, leaving Jacob standing alone.

His thoughts returned to the shifting movement from the corner of his eye and Cooper's odd behavior. The only explanation that came to mind was Ellie's fear of ghosts wandering the halls of Cooper's house. The Reverend and Mrs. Blankenship. He gave the house one last glance, but it was as still as a photograph. Realizing how ridiculous he was for even considering the idea, he climbed inside the truck and headed home.

 

 

12.

Dr. Thompson was the first person to arrive the day of the potluck. During the week, Jacob's mom had run into the doctor while finishing up last second errands for the get together. He had almost begged off coming--what with the health of a few of his patients a concern of his--but his mom could be quite persuasive. By the time he pulled up in his Packard, the last of the damp morning fog had burned away, and it looked like it would be a fine day for the festivities. For his contribution to the potluck, the doctor brought along a crateful of homemade mulberry wine, his specialty.

"A little early in the day for this, I suppose," Thompson said to his mom.

"Nonsense." She stood at the cook stove stirring spices from her garden into a pot of boiling water. On the counter next to her were piles of cut vegetables and early potatoes. A freshly plucked chicken was in a baking pan on the kitchen table. "The glasses are in the cupboard next to the icebox. We're here to enjoy ourselves," his mom said, then turned to Jacob. "Can you bring in another armful of wood for the stove? I don't want to run short with everything that'll need warming."

His mom had run Jacob ragged with chores for today. He was tired, but it was his price to pay for all the wonderful food.

He went to the lean-to just outside the backdoor where they stored the stovelengths. Loading his arms with what he hoped would be more than enough fuel, he heard approaching voices. Girls' voices. He had little time to react when, quite suddenly, Louise and Mary Wilmot appeared from around the corner of the house. Just that quickly, Jacob was stuck facing Mary Wilmot. Louise didn't seem to notice him, not if her dour, preoccupied expression was any indication, but Mary's eyes seemed to brighten when she noticed Jacob standing by the door. He was trapped.

He didn't know how it happened, but the logs tumbled from his arms. There they were, at his feet, and he hadn't even moved to cause them to fall. He felt like running off to hide.

"Cripes," he grumbled, bending over to pick them up. He could feel his ears flaring red.

He expected the girls to laugh at him, but they kept quiet. But then the world seemed to shift beneath him. His stomach flipped and he felt a sudden pang of anger toward Jimmy for not being here to protect him.

Mary hurried over to his side and kneeled right alongside him. "Let me help you."

Jacob stood and placed a single log across his forearms, his palms facing the sky. Mary went about stacking the rest of the stovelengths in his arms. Louise stood nearby impatiently tapping a foot. Jacob's mind began to cloud, his reasoning cogs grinding to a halt. He didn't know what to do. As Mary bent over, her blonde braids fell forward, carrying along a clean and flowery smell. He came close to dropping the growing stack again.

Mary grabbed the last spindly log. When she stood to place it atop the pile, the stack was nearly to his chin. This older girl he hardly knew--who liked him, but who didn't know he knew--was shorter than him. The crown of her head reached the bridge of his nose, and when he looked down the slight difference in their heights, all he could do was offer a silly grin.

Louise, growing more annoyed with the passing seconds, cleared her throat.

It was like a spell was broken. Jacob, still smiling, turned to the door, but was unable to open it with his arms full.

"Uh, Mary?"

"Yes, Jacob?"

"Can you get the door for me?"

Mary stifled a giggle by pressing a hand to her lips, and then reached over and pushed the door open for him. Jacob went inside, feeling safe within the comfortable smells of the kitchen, away from this girl who made him act like he didn't have a lick of sense.

In no time, everyone else showed up. They all seemed to come in one burgeoning wave. Thompson's mulberry wine filled glass after glass. Other spirits joined the wine--harsh spirits as clear as spring water. The house was all abluster with people exchanging hellos while unwrapping dishes from wax paper or old newspapers. Dishes waited in line for the warmth of the stove or were stacked high inside the ice box. With the heat of the stove, his mom had asked him to open all of the windows. He couldn't help looking out every once in a while, searching and expectant.

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