House of Darkness House of Light (60 page)

April met Holly in detention. Destiny, they presume, confirmed by the fact that Holly spent only
one
period there during the course of her school years, whereas April revisited this corporal penance from time to time; relegated to parochial purgatory: in atonement for one perceived sin or another. The girls were devotional from the beginning. No question; Holly’s secure placement within her adoptive family transcended bloodline. She occupies the position of sixth sister, rightfully so. Purity and sweetness drew her naturally to April, as she’d recognized these traits in another soul, one of her own kind. Initially welcomed into the fold as April’s great find of a friend, a treasure to behold, she quickly shared her discovery…then everyone fell in love with Holly; an instantaneous absorption. Her laughter is contagious. Her demeanor meshes flawlessly with everyone in their family; even Roger is crazy about her. He never got close to any of his children’s friends. Again, the exception made. She was more than just another kid hanging around the house. He found her delightful and included her by invitation on many family outings because she belonged:
# 6
. Holly became so close with them over time, when they finally moved to Georgia, she followed; logically. Within several months they were all together again, as nearby in miles as in heart; as the fates allowed. She’d deliberately altered the path of her life to remain in close proximity to family she adored and did so willingly; the sacrifice of losing all of them at once too much to bear. Holly felt abandoned. When Carolyn celebrated her sixty-ninth birthday in August of 2008 there she was standing right behind her Cherokee Mother, framed within the borders of the family portrait. Preserving precious moments for posterity,
click
went the shutter of a camera; the familiar sound reminding everyone present of the bond which will never be broken, even in death. This kinship has endured the trials and tribulations of a super/natural family based upon a super/natural love: something sacred.

Decades pass as decades do, yet some memories remain contemporaneous. Though Holly had not been for a visit in awhile, nor had she spoken of these specific incidents in several years, not even with April, this family gathering was a time for celebration and revelation, prompting a spontaneous sharing of reflections and recollections. The subject did come up. Holly was quick to contribute from her personal memory bank. Life at the farm was vibrant with endless adventures. She remembers it quite fondly. Encircling a dining room table, the “girls” began speaking with exuberance about a time in life when everything was new; the element of surprise when seeing something they had never seen before, whether it was a lady slipper on the floor of the pine grove or a pronounced shadow in silhouette leaning against a doorway. Confessing that she
always
felt completely safe and protected at the farm, Holly went on to describe in detail an episode which occurred about one week prior to their family’s departure for Georgia. She had come to stay for the weekend, there to help them pack…make a few more memories before they left her behind.

Having grabbed the vacant spot in the middle bedroom upstairs, the young woman fell hard into sleep after a long, hot day of relentless work. As Holly vividly recalls, she was abruptly awakened by the sound of “rummaging” in the chimney closet. The light had been turned on. There was a thin streak of pure white light cast across the darkened room from beneath the closet door. Rolling over in bed, she distinctly recalls the bright reddish background and glowing numbers on a new-fangled contraption called a digital alarm clock, illuminating 3:33 a.m. Drowsy and bleary-eyed, Holly leaned over to check it again, wondering why anybody would be up and about at this hour of night. Eddy spent the night as well, dutiful helper that he was, primarily due to the very late hour they finished working, followed by a heavy dinner. Everyone crashed and burned in the heat of a house baked in the oven of a sunny June day; broiled from above. Maybe Eddy was already up, getting ready for work but why would he be inside the chimney closet? It had been packed; empty. Click. The latch lifted. As its creaky door began slowly swinging open, Holly saw the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway.

He did not move. “Eddy?” He did not speak. “Is that you?” The figure was as tall and lanky as Eddy but Holly had an immediate sense it was someone else; the same man she had seen before, over all the years of slumber parties. A familiar figure, he was; someone checking in, watching over the children of the house, of which she was one. To her knowledge, Holly had never seen Manny though he had been described to her on numerous occasions. She did not think it was him, even though he too was prone to standing in doorways, usually in the front hallway downstairs. No. This was someone else, someone a good bit older. She wondered if this was dear old Mr. Kenyon, come to say goodbye. Though she never met the man in life, he too had been described to her and spoken of with an abiding affection, often in her presence. Perhaps he had returned home, to the children he loved. Holly propped her body up in bed and stared at the figure; mesmerized…and wholly unafraid.

As Holly remembers it, he stood there for what seemed an eternity, a single light bulb behind him illuminating a deeply dark night. Glancing at the clock again, it still read 3:33, as if it was stuck. Holly wanted to speak with him but could not muster the energy to voice or body, to rise from bed and approach the stoic figure. She insists it wasn’t a sensation of fright prohibiting contact; she was simply unable to move. Truth be told, Holly expressed the desire to go to him, enveloped as she was with a sense of compassion and tenderness, the kind of feeling one might have toward a father figure. She knew him. She knew he loved her. Holly felt a certain kinship with the apparition standing in the doorway of that bedroom. He’d suspended time itself to visit her.

Then, after several moments, in precisely the same way it opened, the closet door began to close again: slowly, deliberately, with forethought; no malice. What Holly found astounding was the fact that this door
could
not
close the same way in which it had opened; what she had witnessed defied the laws of physics. After so many years of coming and going through the rooms of that old farmhouse, she knew each one of those doors had its own personality; its own quirks and foibles.
That
door, once unlatched, would slowly sway open, much the same way it had when the apparition arrived. However, because of the slant of a house built long and lean, it required some assistance to close it and latch it again. That door always gravitated toward the pitch of the place. There the figure stood. He did not move or speak as the door closed. Its latch engaged. Lights out…and then he was gone…darkness prevailed once again.

Though Holly knew the answer before asking the provocative question, she felt compelled to check with the only likely mortal suspect before revealing her phenomenal experience to anyone. The next morning over steaming cups of coffee, she rather nonchalantly inquired of Eddy…had he awakened and wandered around during the middle of the night? Nope. He had slept like the dead, so to speak; as she’d suspected. One of many sightings Holly had over the years this was destined to be her last. Within the week their family would be on the road again, caravan-style, out of harm’s way, as far as the mother of the clan was concerned. While quietly listening to their odd conversation, Carolyn made no further inquiry…she did not want to know. It was obvious to the outgoing mistress of the house; Holly had encountered a supernatural
someone
in the night. From her perspective, she did not want to hear any of the details. Carolyn had endured the most ghostly of encounters and was the one least likely to return, having no desire to revisit this place in the country she once loved but by this time, loathed; a house held in contempt of cosmic court and spark. As her mind was already half way to Georgia, the vision of yet another country place firmly planted as a promising seed in her brain, she turned and walked away from any suggestion of another manifestation, out the kitchen door, off to inspect the loading of a truck. Holly understood her lack of interest and kept the story to herself…for the next thirty years.

2008
: There was cause for celebration. With the lighting of candles came a warmth and glow of a song in the voices and the hearts of everyone present: “Happy birthday to you!” A stark reminder of the dark days before; Carolyn had just returned from the hospital. As her daughters signed a birthday card intended for the cardiologist who saved their mother’s life, a man responsible for insuring Carolyn would see another birthday, tears of joy were spilling as heartfelt messages of gratitude were scribed across the paper. Grandchildren signed then passed the pen to friends. Holly’s turn came with little space left on a card crammed to its edges yet she found a spot to acknowledge the good doctor with a simple statement: “Thank you for saving my Mom.” After cake and ice cream was served, Carolyn went to rest as a crowd began to disperse, mindful of her condition. Essentially, the entire family was recovering from her massive heart attack. Holly remained;
sisters
sat around the table telling tales of their shared childhood…noteworthy stories; the writer in the family taking copious notes.

“Remember the old song, ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’?” That is just how it felt; like he knew me and loved me…like he was only there to protect me, from what I guess I’ll never know.” Recalling every detail of their encounter, Holly continued. “Never once did I feel unsafe in your house. Whenever I’d sleep over, I always stayed with April in her bedroom but not because I was afraid of
anything
. I just liked being with her. You never did tell me what it was going on in the chimney closet, though; this is the first I’m hearing of it. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I never told anyone…no, that’s not true. I did tell Cathi about it…after we moved to Georgia. I think I told her when she came down for my high school graduation.” April strained to remember precisely when she’d disclosed the great secret of her childhood. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you…I didn’t want anyone to know because it was the only way I could protect him…from the Warrens. You know; they wanted to send them away, and he was my friend.” Everyone nodded. Everyone understood. The Perron girls were emotionally attached to their holy spirits; not so spooked after all, it seems. Stories kept on surfacing as the clan revisited their past; page after page, until their scribe required a wrist guard in support of the process. Yes, there was an element of fear at first…though it didn’t last. Holly smiled recalling those ethereal years as some of the best of her life. It seems the spooks had touched her heart, too.

“If you don’t like something change it; if you can’t

change it, change the way you think about it.”

Mary Engelbreit

 
going for a ride

“If you surrender to the wind, you can ride it.”

Toni Morrison

As a regular visitor to the farm Holly learned to make herself quite at home. It was a second home to her. She was around so frequently, from the age of ten or so, she soon became familiar with every nook and cranny of the old house. She blended so successfully into the family she was welcomed not as a guest, but simply as one of the girls. Carolyn delighted in her presence. Everyone did. No one served; she got her own. It happened naturally. Many weekends were spent bunking in with April, crammed into a twin bed, giggling until all hours of the night; a perpetual play date lasting for years.

Relieved April had made such a wonderful friend, Holly’s presence was a welcome respite from worry, alleviating some of Carolyn’s concerns about a reclusive daughter. April was more isolated, less social than her other girls. She spent far too much time alone, something she did by choice. When Holly arrived in April’s life she appeared as the fresh face of hope, a promise April would not be so lonely or withdrawn anymore. Born only a few weeks apart; the girls had much in common. Holly was a buoyant, happy child with a huge smile, who laughed from her heart; sparkling bright blue eyes with a devilish spirit the angel inside her kept contained. A truly good girl by any standard, she had staying out of trouble down to an art form. As a positive influence on everyone she knew, Holly was a virtual role model; a pillar of conscience in a crowd of adolescent mischief-makers: Nancy, as the case in point: Holly, saving her sorry butt from mortal mischief more than once! Upon reflection, it was Kate’s fault; everyone else went along for the ride with the wild child.

It was winter again; much too frigid to play outside so the children were all making the most of the gigantic house. Hide ‘n seek qualified as an extreme sport; so many spooky cubbyholes in which to tuck away. Holly’s turn came to hide and she was seeking a place to go. Upon entering Andrea’s bedroom above the parlor, Holly looked around, deciding that choice was too obvious. No. The woodshed instead; cold, but way more secluded. No one would find her out there; nobody would brave the cold to go look! The egg timer would expire and she’d win the game! This decision required sneaking downstairs and out through the summer kitchen. To do so and remain undetected would be a win by any standard; accomplishment in its own right. Gaining access to their woodshed the
other
way meant cutting through the window from inside the borning room. Having the reputation as an evil place to avoid at all cost, Holly thought better of it. Nancy had warned everyone not to go in there.

Standing at the top of the landing, peering into the dark narrow stairwell as it went winding down and around to the far corner of the parlor; Holly had to wonder if anyone was waiting at the bottom. Boo! The staircase posed some hazards by design. Guardrails installed with good reason, as a necessity for navigating the treacherous set of stairs in safety, Holly was about to discover one of the spirits…one with a good sense of humor; an introduction made by way of a rather unusual version of the twelve-step-program. Before she could even reach down and grasp the guardrail, Holly was suddenly flying, literally swept off her feet into midair, lifted up and carried by someone or something which gave her one hell of a ride…all the way to the bottom of the staircase. According to the still-startled soul, it happened so quickly, there was no time to reach for the rail; no time to react at all. In mere seconds she felt her body being
placed
at the bottom of the stairs, the first and only time her bottom touched any of them on the way down. She had not fallen. Of this, Holly was certain. The rest remains a mystery. She was not bumped or bruised, scraped or injured in any way. Boo! Who? Had someone just
stopped
her from going into that woodshed? Had it been some sort of divine intervention? Was it an act of God to keep her from falling (or being pushed) down that staircase? The excursion felt benevolent in Nature. Though, in retrospect, she questions the motivation, she did not do so at the time; mischief or mayhem…it felt as if someone had done her a really big favor. She remains grateful to this day.