Entry #551260, added on 11-24-07 @ 7:22 am EST
Entry Access Restriction: None.
| The Bay Road Legacy Chapter 7 It's A Little Scary | Entry #551260 |
The BAY ROAD LEGACY
Chapter Seven
It’s a Little Scary
Sunday morning, our second Sunday at Bay Road, and our family had experienced more events in a little more than a week, than we had in our whole lifetime. Sunday mornings, are I think were made for quiet reflection, low key activity, certainly for church, and in general they are intended as we have been taught, to be a day of rest. While living in the city, mother had made it a rule that as children, she would at least try to get us into church on Sundays. This was not done with any great regularity, but to the degree that she was able, she made sure that we understood the concepts of church and religion.
Mother had been raised in the Episcopal Church, but in order to marry my father, she changed her religion to Roman Catholic. In his absence in our lives, she did try to raise us by the standards of the Roman Catholic Church, and that meant Confirmation classes, Sunday School classes, a short time of training to be an “Alter Boy” for me, and as many youth oriented activities as she could arrange for us to take part in. Father and Son breakfasts or outings, usually found my brother and I being adopted for the day by the father of one of our friends, so that we would not be left out.
At the age of fourteen, I had some difficulty with the theology of the church, and was in my own way ready to look at other religions. One drawback of life on Bay Road was that by being as far away from the city as we were, walking over to church, or even getting a bus was out of the question. Our church life was on hold for the time being, and Sundays would be welcomed as days of peace and quiet and relaxation. These would be days for big dinners, and warmed up leftovers for supper. While living in the city, in the days, “before Father” Sunday night supper at our house, meant the best and biggest gatherings of friends and family in the whole neighborhood. Here on the farm, Sundays, would be much different.
On this particular Sunday, we had to say our goodbyes to our favorite uncle and aunt, and we had to help mother prepare the house for more guests who would be arriving in mid afternoon. It was my first chore of the day, to go into every room and open every window, to allow the fresh air to bring the warmth and smell of late spring into the house. As I reached the second floor, I met my uncle, just as he was about to bring his suitcases down to the car. I know that we talked, about a lot of things, about family, about mother and father, and a whole lot more, as we walked from room to room, with my uncle now helping out on window detail.
We both stopped just outside the now closed and locked small bedroom, and Uncle Jimmy, never being a man to walk away from a last chance to solve a mystery, or to meet a challenge, decided to have one last look in the room. He slid back the bolt on the door, and with a slight degree of timidity peered into the near empty room. After a moment, he walked in, and turned around several times to see if maybe, just maybe he had missed something in the past. Satisfied that he had not, he placed one hand on the rear window, and almost as though he just had to do it, he gave it one more push to see if it would open. Jimmy, could not in clear conscience, just walk away, he just had to know what would happen.
Well, you have to know by now what happened, it was Sunday morning, we were still living in the house at Bay Road, and we were still in control. We were a family, and this was our house and that window opened as smooth as silk. There was no stiffness, no sticking, no hesitation, and no signs of the struggles that it had offered on past attempts. That window opened as if it was brand new and made just for the purpose of opening to a ladies touch. Jimmy was at first startled, and he stepped back a few feet from the window, and blasted out in a roar, “GODAMN, I don’t believe it, I will never believe it, GODAMN.” Now for the challenge, he stepped forward to the same window, and gently pushed it shut. He removed his hand from the window, and pondered his next move. Again he stepped up to the window, and putting both hands on it for balance again pushed gently upward on the window. It would not move. He pushed with all of the strength in his body, and it would not move, it would not be moved, it was staying shut. He was totally unbelieving of what had just happened, what had happened before, and was obviously bothered by this phenomena.
He turned, and was about to exit the room, as I stepped in. He stood for a minute, as I went to the window, and with great curiosity inside of me, I placed my hands on the window, and without any effort, opened it to its’ fullest height. A breath of air wafted into the room, and we stood there together just looking at the window. “I am not going to close it,” I said. “I will come back later and do that, but not now.” We turned and walked out of the room. We closed and bolted the door, and moved toward the back of the house. We walked into each of the little rooms in the rear and opened each window, and then returned to the main house. Jimmy, still not believing what had happened stopped for a minute outside the closed door, and I could just tell that he wanted one more chance at the window.
Without much delay, he opened the door and as he did, we both stood with some hesitation, and watched as the rocking chair started to move back and forth, and then as easily, it stopped. A moment later we stood in awe as the window slowly and gently closed itself as though it was being lowered by a small woman or child. What could he say? “GODAMN, GODAMN, GODAMN! “Kenny, I really like your new house and I hope you guys will be happy here, but let me tell you something, just between you and me, it’s a little scary.” Jimmy had no idea of just how scary this old house would become.
We again closed and locked the door to the room. I took the smaller suitcase, and Jimmy picked up all of the big luggage and we went down the stairs to load up his car. After doing this we went back into the house where he would linger over one last cup of coffee, and say his goodbyes to mother and father. Mother quickly went to the refrigerator, and handed Jimmy a paper bag. In it she had placed some tomatoes two big squashes and a box of fresh raspberries, all purchased a few days before at our farm stand. Time to go and with hugs and kisses, he and Stella were gone. We waived and shouted as they drove away, slowly down Bay Road. I would not see my uncle again for three years. He did call, at least once each week, for the next two months, but was then sent back on assignment, to a place called Hungary. I recall him telling us at one time, that it was a country just waiting for a revolution. He wanted to be there.
Father was the first to speak. “Well that was fun, I wonder how Louie and Alice are going to like the place,” he said, quickly directing our attention to our next guests, and the remaining chores at hand.
We went back into the kitchen, and for a few moments, the house seemed to be very empty. It was just us now, and we had very little conversation with the departure of our guests. Mother tried to spark some discussion by offering an open ended question. “I wonder what Jimmy thought of our house, and what he thought of us living way out here?” she asked. “I will just bet that he has never seen a place like this any where else on earth. First he comes all the way up here, and we put the poor man to work for a whole week, and then we make him sleep with a gun under his pillow, because we have ghosts in the house. I will just bet that he will never come back to this place,” she said.
Father of course took a positive approach; offering that Jimmy would not have missed a chance to spend a week like this had been for anything. “After all, said Father, Jimmy loves a challenge. This was I think the first time that mother had acknowledged the presence of ghosts in our house. She was not rebelling against their presence, she was, just being openly honest that yes, Bay Road, had some ghosts in it. She was not overly concerned about it, and I think to her, ghosts, fell right in with the existence of rats as just another thing to deal with. She was not at all critical or hostile to having ghosts in her house, and I think that if there were such things, and they had stayed there distance and not been so noisy and bothersome at night, she might have actually enjoyed her new life.
Only time would tell if they would remain silent and at a distance from our family. As for me, I thought that if mother wasn’t upset, then why should I be. I mean, how much harm can ghosts do anyway. Father made no comment regarding ghosts. We had them, he knew it, and mother knew it and it did not seem to be a big deal. Mother asked if she should prepare a dinner, or would we be going out later when Louie and Alice arrived. As expected, we would indeed be going out later when our new guests arrived. No need to cook a meal today.
Father decided to drive down the road to get a Sunday paper to read, while mother made the announcement that she was not to be disturbed, she was going up stairs to take a long hot bath, and relax before anyone else came to visit. Joan and son Greg were going out to sit on the front porch, and my brother and I were going to search the barns and shops. Dusty, thought going up stairs with mother might offer him some peace, and so he followed right behind as she went up the stairs. The house was very still, we could hear birds singing, and with all the windows open the breeze was gently blowing sweet fresh air into the whole house. Was this to be a typical Sunday, in the absence of guests, I wondered. How nice it was, how pleasant, how casual.
A short time later, I went upstairs to get something from my room, and I noticed that Dusty was not sitting by the bathroom door, as he might have been expected to do. He was sitting directly in front of the small closed bedroom door. As I approached him he stood up with his tail wagging, and looked with apparent curiosity to the locked door. “You don’t like that room,” I said to him. “That room has ghosts, and you were to big a sissy to go in”. He looked at me as if to say, what, who, me. On a chance, I unlocked and opened the door. Just as I did this mother emerged from the bathroom, and watched with me as unprompted, and as if he had no fears, Dusty entered the room and curled up on the floor in the dead center of it.
We both walked into the room and patted the dogs head, and as we did so, ever so slowly, the room began to feel cold once again. Dusty, stood up and sniffed at the old rocking chair, and at once, with his teeth bared, began a slow low growl. He looked at us, and turned and left the room, looking back to see that we were coming with him. We too left the room, and again locked the door behind us. “So,” I asked of mother, “What was that all about? What do you really think?” Mother was of course not an expert on ghosts, but she gave a reply that in an odd way made a lot of sense. “I think,” She said, “that whatever is using that room has the ability to come and go whenever it wants to. When it is in there, Dusty knows it, and when it’s out, he knows that too. Dogs can sense things that we can not see. Keeping the door locked may just make us feel good, but I don’t think it matters to ghosts, if doors are locked or not.” My next thought and question caught mother by surprise. “Do you think it only goes out on Sunday morning, and where does it go?” “You know, “ she said, I really have no idea, we’ll just have to keep track of it and see if we can figure out what’s going on here.”
To mother this ghost was at the very least, a challenge to figure out. To myself I wondered, could there be more than one ghost in here? The bunch on Friday nights did not appear to be quiet and passive. They too had the ability to get out of the room, and to run down the hallway, and even to leave the house through the old front door. The rowdiness of Friday nights ghosts, somehow did not agree with the thought of a ghost that screamed on Thursday nights and went out on Sunday mornings. I shuddered at the thought that maybe we had two or three ghosts hanging around the house. Only time would tell of this mystery.
We went downstairs, and Father had returned with the Sunday paper, and was sitting out on the porch reading it. I returned to play with my brother as we had many more old tools to look at and figure out. Mother poured a cup of coffee and joined Father on the porch, as we all now waited for Lou and Alice to arrive.
Shortly after noontime, our latest guests arrived. Mother and Father walked out to greet them, and we stood and waited to be introduced, not being aware that we had met these people many years before, when we were a lot younger. At one point in our earliest lives, shortly after my father had disappeared, this couple had come to visit with my mother. They recalled us, as having been just so young at the time, and exclaimed at how much time had passed, and how grown we all were. It was a greeting as one might have expected under the circumstances. Mother, was very glad to see Alice arrive, and the two of them hit it off real well. It was an obvious friendship that had simply slowed with Fathers departure, but one that showed signs of renewal from the first moment.
Louie was not at all what I had expected. He was short, very heavy, but not in the sense of being fat, more I thought being built like a small truck. Tough and ready for anything. His very presence and appearance made it obvious why he would be good working as he had as a re-po man with Father. This was not a man that many people would tangle with. Surprisingly, Louie had a sparkling, and altogether bubbly personality. He was quick with a smile, and during his visit, we would enjoy a lot of laughter as this man relaxed on the farm. This was a really nice couple. I could tell from the beginning that this couple knew Father well. I guess perhaps I got this impression of them, especially Louie, when he, speaking to Father, said “So Benny, you finally hit the big time. This must be the biggest house in town, and just look at you, all countrified and driving a big car. Must have really hit it big.”
Now nobody, nobody ever in my wildest dreams would call Father “Benny“. This man had to know him well. Alice and mother had already gone into the house and were talking in the kitchen as we entered, carrying in the suitcases for our new guests. A tour of the house was first on the list of activities for the afternoon. Mother took great pride in showing our guests the new house, being very careful to point out all of the things that she and my aunt and sister had done to make it comfortable. We followed closely behind from room to room, looking at all that had actually been accomplished in just over a week’s time. I guess boys do not notice as much as they should. After seeing the downstairs, we again picked up the luggage and headed upstairs to the room that had been designated as our guest room. The room was terrific was Alice’s comment on seeing it now in sunlight, with the windows still open and fresh air rushing through. “This whole place just seems so beautiful, and you have done so much with it” she said. “We are just going to love it here.” After seeing what would be their room, mother led down the hall, pointing out our room, and my sister’s room, and pausing outside the small bedroom, only long enough to open the door to the rear hall to show them the addition that had been made to the original house. Alice suggested that we could open our own hotel with all this space. Mother did not think a hotel business was what she had in mind. As we returned to the main house, Louie asked about the bolted door to the small room. Mother told the couple that we had decided to just leave that room closed as storage space. It was she said, small and cold in there. No further explanation was made. Now with the tour of the house ended, we all went back to the kitchen, to sit and talk and to let mother and father catch up on old times.
After a lengthy exchange of family news, my mother asked the couple what they were doing for work these days, and they replied that they were “still at the beach, only now, they said with pride, they owned the stand”. Like a blinding light or a flash bulb going off, my mind raced back to a time when I was at most six or seven years old. I new these people, I had met them, at the beach. This couple ran the “Dairy Swirl” ice cream stand at a public beach just north of Boston. I blurted out the words Raspberry Swirl and mother looked at me with amazement. “I remember you,” I said, you gave us ice cream once when we were little. I can remember that.” Louie looked over toward me and informed me that I was right, only he added that he had given us all, more than one ice cream. Every time your mother could get you kids down to the beach on the busses, she would bring you by to see us, and every time, you would have the same Raspberry Swirl cone.
Father was clearly not a part of this discussion. It was mother who took us on the busses, in the heat of summer, on Saturdays, to the beach, many times over in Father’s absence from our lives. My mother and aunt, would often times plan all-day trips to the beach, and many times a lot of kids from the neighborhood were invited to go along with us. It had never occurred to me that the ice cream was a gift from this man and his wife, but as I look back on it now, there was no way that mother or my aunt could ever have had enough money to buy ice cream cones for anyone. As children, living at my aunt’s house, with mother out working, we were the very definition of poor. We never knew of it, as to us, hand me down clothing and patched shoes, and mended socks, and great meals stretched from leftovers, were an everyday way of life. We never wanted for anything.
I now felt closer to this couple, knowing that they were indeed friends from days long ago. Before leaving the kitchen, I informed Louie and Alice that we had an ice cream shop in town, with a real nice waitress, and they did not sell Raspberry Swirl at all. After spending an hour in the house, we were off for a tour of the whole farm. Mother led with Alice, and the two talked and laughed as mother told of a whole yard “full of bull” as she put it, referring to the incident of a few days before.
On entering the barns, Louie was fascinated by all of the equipment and antiquated machines still in place at the old farm. He enjoyed seeing things that he and Alice had not seen since their youth on farms in Maine. He would pick up an old tool, and immediately, he could explain what it was and what it was used for. He uncovered machines, now thick with rust that had been used for everything from coring apples, to sophisticated equipment used for measuring horse’s hoofs and shaping horse shoes. He had done blacksmithing and harness work and just about every other chore that life on a farm could bring. We walked on into the big dairy barn and his eyes glowed at the sight of the vintage milking equipment and the automatic watering devices and he could explain in detail how each item worked. He was in another world here on the farm, away from the crowds of a public beach and vats of ice cream. As we circled through the barn he stopped briefly at the gate to the silo, and stuck his head in to see what it held. He paused for a moment giving great thought to the workings of the silo, and offered no commentary on the structure at all. He was very silent for the next few minutes as we moved back out into the sunlight.
We all moved back to the front porch and mother and Alice went to the kitchen to get a pitcher of Lemonade. As they returned and poured out a glass for each of us, Louie asked an unusual question. “Big old place like this,” he said, way out here in the country, with big old barns and all, I wonder if there are any ghosts in them?” “Ghosts in the barn,” said mother with great surprise, “Oh no, our ghosts are all right upstairs in the storage room!” Had Father told this couple about our ghosts? Alice jumped right into the conversation, scolding Louie for mentioning ghosts. “Louie insists that there are ghosts everywhere,” she said, ever since he was a kid in Maine he says that he has been able to see ghosts. “Not true” said Louie, “I only say I see them when I’ve seen them.” “Oh hush,” said Alice. “Dot and the kids will think you’re crazy.” “No no” said mother, “we have ghosts, at least we think we do, and even Uncle Jimmy, who was here all last week, thinks we have ghosts. I was serious,” she said to Alice, “when I said there all right upstairs in the storage room. You’ll see just wait a few days, and you’ll see.”
Well, we sat there for a while longer and as the afternoon passed, the stories of the events of the past days had been told to our new guests. They listened with deep interest as we each relayed our own, very personal feelings regarding ghosts. They were somewhat amazed at the attitude that we had all some how adopted, about living in a house with ghosts, and not allowing it to get the best of us. Mother repeatedly pointed out that it was first and foremost our house, the ghosts were not paying the rent, we were and as long as they did not bother anyone, what difference did it make if they were here with us. “Why, who knows,” said mother, they might just be friendly and like having real people around.” Now that was a novel thought. As I said, the afternoon did pass, and as planned, we were off now to a big supper at our favorite Italian restaurant. Louie and Alice insisted that this meal was their treat. I had my favorite ravioli’s with sausage, and was totally full, as we all were. After eating however father offered ice cream at our local place, and after so much food, he finally took no for an answer. Ice cream would wait for one more night.
Monday morning, and Father was off to work, only on this Monday he was taking my sister into the city, to allow her to look for a job. She had found several possibilities in the Sunday paper, and made a list of places to go. She would spend the morning looking for work, and Father would pick her up at lunch time and return her to the house, and he would go back to work himself. Alice and Louie were late sleepers, and when they got up and joined mother in the kitchen, they were somewhat surprised that mother would be at the house without a car to drive.
Mother told them how first father and then Stella had taught her how to drive, and she was sure that if she took the test she could get her license. After she said that, she explained, she would be able to take father to work in the morning and keep his car during the day. At least she thought, she could do this a couple days a week. “Why wait” said Alice, “we can take you anywhere you want to go and get your license with you. If you don’t mind driving in an old Ford. “I have never driven a Ford, but I guess I could” said mother. It was a done deal. Just after nine o clock and with little more than an hours worth of experience at driving the old Ford, mother was off with Alice to take her drivers test. Mother cautioned us to not tell Father where she had gone, in case he got home at noon with Joan before she did. Mr. Roberts had come by, and offered to take Louie over and show him his farm, and Louie accepted the offer. My brother and I were to remain home and take care our nephew for the morning.
At first, babysitting was not a challenge at all, but after watching Greg in his play pen for an hour or more, we decided that he should be allowed to walk around the place with us. If we could find a way to keep track of him, we would not have to stay here by the house. We could go anywhere. Boyish ingenuity went to work, and in no time at all, we had fashioned a sturdy harness, and attached to it a long length of rope. We could go anywhere now; Greg was mobile and would only be ten feet away at any time. To keep him company, we brought Dusty along with us. We were not sure what we wanted to do with our new freedom or Greg with his, so we simply decided to walk, first to the barns, and then down toward the farm stand.
Dusty was repeatedly running ahead and picking up sticks, returning them to us, in hopes that we would play a game of fetch. On his third or fourth try he deposited the stick at Greg’s feet. Greg bent down and picked it up and with encouragement from his uncles managed to toss the stick about six feet away. That was just enough for Dusty, and he had found a new playmate. We walked back to the house, and hitched Greg to the side of his playpen, where he and Dusty played for another half hour. Soon Fathers car appeared on Bay Rd, and turned into the driveway. Joan jumped out and marveled at the new harness arrangement. Father asked where mother was, and did not have to wait for the answer. Just turning into the driveway was mother, proudly beaming and grinning from ear to ear, driving the Ford, the new owner of a driver’s license. She was now an independent lady. Joan had good news too. She had a new job, working in an office in town. She would ride in with Father each morning and ride home with him at night. Soon Louie returned with Mr. Roberts and celebrations were the order of the day. Tonight, Father said we will all go for banana splits. Life on Bay road was certainly taking on new meaning to all of us. Life was good.
That afternoon, mother spent her time with her friend Alice, walking and talking and all of those things that women do. Joan spent the afternoon, washing and ironing her clothes so she would be ready for work the next day. Louie was given the task of watching over my brother and me as we had been given permission to get out our guns and go down to the shooting area and take on some serious target practice. Dusty, at the sight of the guns, decided he would stay at home with my sister and Greg.
When we got to the target area, Louie had a few surprises for us. He took one of the guns, looked it over real well, loaded it and picked his target. On his first shot he hit the can dead center, sending it flying into the air. Next, he took an old bottle cap that had been lying nearby, and very carefully he set it up on the saw horse. He came back to the shooting line that we had drawn in the dirt, and once again he took aim at his target some fifty feet away. He fired and the bottle cap flew off the saw horse. He had hit his mark again. Lucky shot we called out to him. Bet you can’t do it again. Well, he very carefully once more took a handful of small stones and set them up on the saw horse. He loaded both guns, and laid one to his side. In less than three seconds he had fired the first gun, hitting his mark, and then almost with ease had picked up the second gun and fired his second shot hitting his mark again. We were impressed. How did he do it?
We returned to the house after using up all of the ammunition that we had been given for the afternoon. As we told mother and Alice about Louie’s shooting skills. Alice again scolded Louie. “Boys” she said, “You’ve been had. Louie was the manager of the shooting gallery at the beach, right next to the ice cream stand for years. He still goes over there every day to take his target practice. There is not a better shot north of Boston. Louie, I am ashamed of you not telling the boys before you gave them the old razzle-dazzle. It’s a wonder he didn’t offer you a bet on it.” Louie explained that we hadn’t asked if he could shoot. He was just having fun showing us that he could.
After dinner that evening we all went off to the ice cream shop as planned. When we arrived we were greeted by our usual waitress, who on seeing Louie for the first time, asked him if he spoke English, or was he another one of my father’s brothers looking to have some fun. Louie, having heard the story of Uncle Jimmy’s prank, just turned to the girl and said two words. Banana Split. She grinned and thanked him for his order and said it will be right up.
The following day Father, and my sister left for work together, and Alice and Louie slept late. Mother was busy around the house, and my brother and I did very little, except to work on improving the harness that we had made up for my nephew. At noon time we all piled into Louie’s car and made a tourist trip up to Lake George. We again drove the old road up the mountain, and walked to the highest part so that our guests could get the whole picture of the farm and countryside. This would become a regular destination with each of the guests that visited throughout the summer months. The lazy days of summer could well have described, most of the days of this week. Very little excitement after Monday’s double header, with mothers driving license, and Joan’s new job.
By mid day on Wednesday however, Alice’s curiosity finally got the best of her. She asked mother, if she really believed that the house had ghosts, and why did she think that they were in that upstairs room. Well, Mother explained again in detail all that had happened, and offered to take Alice up to see the room. As always, where mother went, Dusty went too, so together the two of them and Dusty, made there way upstairs. Now the room had been locked and not opened in several days, and one might expect it to feel cold and stuffy, however on unlocking the door, both Mother and Alice swear that the room smelled fresh and airy, and even smelled of Lavender, as if someone had just placed fresh flowers in the room. This was not at all what poor Alice expected, and certainly not what mother had anticipated on opening the door. How very strange it must have seemed to both of them. As calm and fresh as it may have appeared, Dusty did not go in. He just sat at the door staring into the room and waiting for the women to come back out and lock it up. Both my mother and Alice almost as a matter of course tried in vain to open a window and each took a turn at sitting in the rocking chair. They were almost like young teenage girls acting silly. Alice even dared to speak to the ghosts, saying “Hey ghosts, we’re here, where are you hiding, come on out so we can see you.” Mother tried to stop her from making such light fun of the situation, but Alice would not stop.
Suddenly, Dusty barked, and let out a loud low growl. Both women became startled and as they turned to leave the room, the door to the room slammed shut. With them inside. Mother grabbed for the door knob, but it would not turn. Alice, being a large woman, also tried and then having had no luck, tried to force the door open. Dusty, still outside the room began barking so loudly, that Louie who had been sitting on the front porch ran up the stairs to see what was the matter. He reached the top step and saw Dusty pointing at the door like a hunting dog would point, and still growling. He heard the ladies inside, and quickly opened the door and let them out. Alice had turned a very upset shade of pale white, while mother, keeping her calm and cool attitude, turned and said to Alice, “I told you not to call them”.
Shaken a bit by the experience, both women reached down and turned the door knob, both, with apparent ease. In explaining what had happened to Louie, Alice said that she had never believed in ghosts, even though she knew that Louie did. “I’ll tell you one thing, though“, she said, “I have to agree that something is not exactly kosher if you know what I mean, not on the up and up at all. In fact, I think Jimmy was right all along. It’s a little scary.”
|
© Copyright 2007 Peter Yule (UN: peteryule at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Peter Yule has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
|
Log In To Leave Feedback
Static Items
Books
Forums
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
