Haunted (11 page)

When I found a moment, I checked my e-mail and found Rhonda's message. Given what I had described to her, she felt strongly that I should immediately remove the items from the house that had been unearthed and replace them where they had been originally found. She explained to me that maybe those small things had had a very special significance to someone a long time ago, and perhaps they did not want them taken from the spot where they had been lying undisturbed for all those years.

As a parent, it was not difficult to understand why three such seemingly insignificant objects could be that important to someone. I knew how much my own daughter admired them, and I could see that another little girl might have treasured those items and felt that no one should have possession of them but her. In a time when children had so few possessions when compared with today, those small things could have been the child's most prized belongings.

I agreed with Rhonda that the best thing to do would be to place the items back where they had been found. The problem I had before me was explaining to Kammie why she had to part with them. She had witnessed the “bonker” lamp turning itself on and off, and had heard the footsteps on the stairs, the knocking in the walls, and her glass globes break into melody in the night. She had claimed to see her china doll move as if manipulated. But Kammie had never heard us discuss the fact that spirits could possibly be causing all of those disturbances.

I went into her room and sat beside Kammie on the bed.

“Do you know what I've been thinking?” I said. “I think that a long time ago, a little girl, like you, may have owned all those things we found in the backyard when the new room was being built.”

Kammie nodded her head in agreement. She glanced over at the items on her window sill and smiled.

“Maybe we shouldn't have taken them from where that little girl left them,” I continued.

“We didn't take them, Mommy. Stuart found them and gave them to me,” Kammie reminded me.

“That's right. Do you remember exactly where he found them?” I wondered.

My little girl again nodded her head.

“Could you show me when you're feeling better?” I asked.

“Why?” Kammie wanted to know.

“I think we should put them back where they were found.”

“Oh, do we have to, Mommy?” she asked with disappointment.

“I know you like them. But I think we should think of those things as still belonging to the little girl who left them there, and put them back. If we knew who owned something we found, we would give it back to them, wouldn't we?” I asked.

“Do you mean like if we found a wallet or something?” Kammie asked, trying to understand what I was saying.

“Yes. If we found something, and knew who owned it, we would make sure that person got it back, wouldn't we?”

Kammie agreed that we would.

“Well, we know someone left those things buried out there for a reason. And maybe it was important to them that their things stayed there,” I said.

That seemed to make sense to Kammie, and she got out of bed, picked up the items, and handed them to me.

“I'm going to put these downstairs, and when you're feeling better, we'll go outside into the backyard together and you can show me exactly where Stuart found them and we'll put them back.”

Kammie nodded in agreement but asked if I would take a photograph of them before they were buried back in the ground so she would have a keepsake. I smiled at my daughter as I tucked her back into bed, assured her I would do that for her, and left the room with the objects.

Carrying the delicate items carefully, I went down the stairs, through the family room, and out the back door. I put them on the outdoor stairway railing and leaned them safely against the wall so they would not fall. They were also protected from any gusts of wind that might swirl around the yard. I breathed a sigh of relief. Just having them out of the house made me feel better. I quickly snapped a picture of the items for Kammie before I headed back upstairs to the attic and the computer.

I was about to begin typing an answer to Rhonda's last message when I heard a commotion coming from the second floor.

“Kammie is out of bed!” Rosa called up to me, knowing they had all been told to stay tucked in and resting.

I called out to Kammie to get back under her covers.

“She went downstairs,” Matt informed me from his bedroom below.

I sighed, got up and went in search of Kammie, expecting to find her in the living room watching television. Instead I saw her standing in the dining room, staring out the window into the backyard.

“What are you doing, honey?” I asked as I walked up behind her.

Kammie jumped when she felt my hand upon her arm and reeled around.

I was startled by her reaction.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“I didn't know who was behind me. I didn't hear you coming,” Kammie explained nervously.

“What are you doing down here? I told you to stay in bed,” I reminded her.

“I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to see where you put my things. I mean, the things we have to put back into the ground in the backyard,” she replied.

“Did you see them?” I asked as I guided her back up the stairs to her room.

Kammie did not answer me, but I knew she would have had a clear view of the objects from the dining room window as it overlooked the back door and stairway landing. She remained unusually quiet as I tucked her into bed. I felt her forehead to see if her fever had risen and was glad to find that it had not. Still, she seemed pale, and I told her to get some rest.

As I left the room I looked back at Kammie with some concern. I wondered if removing the items from her room had upset her even more than I had expected. The expression she wore was more frightened than sad, and I was not quite sure what to think.

“Is everything all right?” I asked her from her doorway.

Kammie nodded but did not look at me, and I assumed she was unhappy because I took away her things.

“Sweetie, are you upset because we're putting everything back?” I asked.

“No,” Kammie said firmly. “I don't want to see those things anymore.”

That was an unexpected reply, but she had now closed her eyes. I left her to rest.

The following day the children were all feeling much better, and Matt and Kammie were able to return to school for the last day of the week. The next morning, we were going out of town for the family reunion, and the children were very excited.

That afternoon when they arrived home from school I asked Kammie if she wanted to show me the exact spot where the objects had been found in the backyard so we could put everything back in the ground. Although I had an idea as to where they had been found, having been called outside when the glass jar was discovered, I thought it might be important to Kammie to put them back herself.

“I don't think those things are there anymore,” Kammie said quietly.

“Of course they are. Why wouldn't they be? I told you I would wait until you could help me,” I reassured her.

“I think that girl took them,” Kammie said.

“What girl?” I asked, even though her response had raised the hair on the back of my neck. I had never mentioned the apparition of the young girl that I had seen in the master bedroom to the children. As I waited for Kammie's reply, I hoped that she was talking about someone from the neighbourhood.

“Yesterday, when I got out of bed, I wanted to see where you put those things. So I went downstairs, and as I was walking through the dining room, I saw a girl through the window. She was standing outside the back door, looking at the things you put on the railing,” she explained.

I stared quietly at my daughter for a moment. What she was saying was logically impossible. The gate to our backyard was kept locked at all times, and if anyone had even approached it, Piper would have barked a warning as she did when passersby strolled along the front sidewalk. The only possible entry into our backyard was through the house and out the back door.

“Why didn't you tell me someone was there?” I asked, while I tried to make sense of what she was saying.

“I thought you would be mad at me for getting out of bed and going downstairs when I was sick,” Kammie explained with her child's logic.

“What did the girl look like?” I asked.

“She looked like she was playing dress-up in old fashioned clothes. She had blonde hair, and the front part of it was pulled into a big white bow at the back.”

“How old was she?” I asked, feeling my knees starting to shake.

“She was tall, but she didn't look too old. I think she was maybe twelve or thirteen,” Kammie said.

I remained quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say next.

“You don't believe me, do you?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” I assured her. “I do, I just want to know more about what she looked like so we can figure out who she was and how she got into our backyard. Have you ever seen her before?”

She shook her head.

“What colour was her dress?”

“Purple. And she had another white dress over top of that one.”

She had described the girl that I had seen. The colour and style of her hair, and even her clothing, were exactly the same.

“What was she doing out there?” I asked, trying to get as much information out of Kammie as possible.

“She was just standing there looking at the things you put on the railing. Remember that feather I had in the ink-well?” she asked me.

I nodded. I had taken out the feather that Kammie had put in the ink-well when I had carried the items outside and took the photograph, but had then replaced it.

“She kept poking at that feather with her finger,” Kammie told me.

“Did she look at you?” I asked, realizing that Kammie had stood only a few feet away from the girl. I hoped she had not given my daughter the same look of irritation she had given me.

“No, I don't think she saw me at all. She just kept looking at the things and poking at the feather.”

Again I fell silent.

“I don't think you believe me. I did see her, Mommy, honest!” my daughter swore.

“I do believe you, sweetie,” I told her.

“Are you sure?” Kammie asked, knowing the story sounded strange.

“Yes, because I've seen that girl too,” I finally admitted to her.

“You have? When? Did you see her when you came down to get me?” she asked.

“No, I didn't. But I saw a girl that looks exactly like the one you described in my bedroom a few nights ago,” I told her.

“What was she doing?” Kammie asked with a mixture of excitement and relief. She seemed happy to know I believed her.

“She was just watching Daddy sleeping,” I said simply. I had no intention of telling her about the look the girl had given me or the fear I had felt.

Kammie seemed to find that funny, and giggled. I joined in with genuine laughter, remembering how I had almost done so when I had envisioned Ted's reaction to waking up and seeing her looking down at him.

“Who is she?” my daughter wanted to know.

“I don't know.” I answered, still smiling and trying to remain cheerful.

“I bet she owns those things we found!” Kammie said, as though putting together an important puzzle piece.

“I bet she does too,” I agreed.

“Can we go and see if everything is still there?” Kammie asked.

We went out the back door, and Kammie was happy to see that the jar, ink-well with feather, and button were exactly where I had placed them. No one had taken them after all.

Kammie and I went down the stairs and into the backyard. I walked over to the shed to get the shovel I would need to dig in the hard-packed dirt. I knew from my gardening that the soil's texture was almost like clay, and it would be difficult to dig deeply, but I was eager to bury the objects now that Kammie had also seen the girl's spirit.

“Mommy!” I heard my daughter call when I was inside the shed.

“I'll be there in a minute. I'm just getting the shovel,” I called back.

“We don't need a shovel,” she said.

“We'll need one to dig into that hard dirt,” I reminded her.

“But they've already made a hole,” Kammie said.

I came out of the shed when I heard that remark.

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“Look,” said Kammie, pointing at the ground. “It looks like they pushed a hole right into the ground exactly where Stuart found those things. This is where they want us to put them back.”

As I approached the spot where Kammie was standing, I could only gasp and stare at the hole beside her that had indeed been “pushed” into the hard ground. Piper was not prone to digging holes in the yard, and there were no claw marks to indicate that she might have taken the notion to dig that one. Nor was there a pile of removed earth beside the hole. Rather, it appeared as if the ground had been shoved in by some unknown force to a depth of many inches, making a hole exactly the size needed to bury the items.

“Are you sure this is where Stuart found those things?” I asked, trying to hide my shock.

“Yes, I remember it was right here,” Kammie said, still looking at the hole. “How did they do that?”

“I don't know,” I answered truthfully.

I went to the top of the stairs and retrieved the items from the railing. I placed the jar in the bottom of the hole, with the button inside it. The ink-well went in next, with the feather by its side. Although it had not been found there, Kammie wanted to bury the feather because the girl she had seen poking at it seemed to like it. I then made several trips to the side garden for shovelfuls of loose soil to fill the hole. When everything was buried again, I returned the shovel to the shed. My daughter's small hand reached out for mine, and together we walked back into the house.

Some days later, Rosa and I were seated on the sofa in the living room reading a book together when Kammie and Matt returned from school and walked into the room to say hello.