Night #5
The Mysterious Jessica Daniels
My father hoisted me out of the hole and began to examine me over, but my mother was the one that made a big deal out of it. When my father helped me over the couch and brought me down to the bottom of the stairs. My mother nearly fainted when she came into the room seeing my father walk me over to a dining room chair. “OH my god, what the hell happened,” thankfully my father began explaining the entire situation. I was able to rest letting my throbbing muscles relax as I felt like I had been hit by a car. Before I knew it my mother was shoving ice over the back of my head. “What were you thinking,” my mother yelled but once again I began to drift away. What the hell was that room? Why would my parents want to cover the room up? Why wouldn’t that want to use it?
“I am sorry,” “your mistake almost killed our son”! My father’s face fell “I don’t know what happened it shouldn’t have broken”. My mother’s hand rested on my forehead, “and you call yourself a carpenter . . . I wouldn’t hire you to make a desk you old fool”. I never saw my father turn that shade of white as he gulped a little replying, “I know let me fix it and we can continue with bringing the stuff up the stairs, “no . . . YOU are going to bring some of the stuff upstairs until I see that the stairs are suited for humans”. “Mom,” I said tugging on her arm a little “your making this a big deal, I’m fine . . . look”. I began to stand as my mother seemed to clench me thinking that the fall knocked out my ability to walk. “Are you sure . . . you look a little peaky,” “peaky” I laughed. My mother brushed my cheek, “why don’t you go lay down while your father fixes the stairs”. My fathers head sunk, “yes dear,” she nodded and led me to the living room where our family had been residing for the past four nights. Brandon lay curled in his little bed taking one of his usual twenty daily naps. “Mom,” I said starting to shrug her off “please I am not that hurt”. “I know but you know mothers,” “yeah” I replied. “Just stop acting like one,” she rubbed my head “my little man is growing up so fast”. She stood there as I climbed into my bed. I was about to ask her to leave feeling a slight bit of embarrassment, when she asked “Are you sure you are ok”? I nodded trying to sound as convincing as possible “yeah mom I am fine trust me”.
Finally releasing the urge to coddle me one more time, she smiled as she walked away leaving me to rest my aching muscles. I didn’t get much sleep maybe it was the was the sun pouring into my eyes, maybe it was the aching in my bones, or maybe it was my father pounding nails and boards fixing the hole in the stairs? Either way sleep was not something I was capable of my thoughts began to dwell on the previous night. There was only question that I wanted answered, who is Jessica Daniels? “She had lived here before them,” he whispered to himself. But why did she leave, “no,” I whispered . . . the real question was why was she trying to get into the house? Why would she need to break into our house? If she had left something here I was sure my parents would give it to her. Maybe she didn’t know or maybe she didn’t want us to know? I could almost feel a trickle of greed fill my insides, could it be treasure? I almost felt myself laugh, a treasure . . . a treasure my parents would want to keep hidden. After what seemed like an hour or two my father called to my mother calling for her inspection.
Deciding that it was probably time to get up, I rose from my bed to see my mother pushing around the couch that still lay in the middle of the stairs. My mother prowled the stairs like a lion would prowl its prey. She scanned every inch of the floor applying pressure to every inch, “well” asked my father. My mother bit her lip as she pointed her finger at him, “mark my words if Jack falls again I will be filling out divorce papers by the end of this night”.
With my mother’s approval my father and I decided to continue our family’s expansion into the second floor. The first thing that needed to be done was the couch. My father insisted on taking the front this time. We lifted the heavy couch all the way to the top of the stairs. “Move it to the side,” cried my father “let’s get your bed in their first”. My father smiled as he headed down the stairs I stared down at the wooden floor. I almost felt chills running down my skin as I glanced up to stare down a dark hallway that the sun rays did not even seem to penetrate. I saw the large tower like room at the end of the hallway another room sat to the left of it. I followed the wall until my eyes rested upon a door to my left a few feet ahead of me. To ease my curiosity I opened the door to discover a full bathroom, a small one but one that looked brand new. The door directly to my left was open. My father was already carrying another box up the stairs. “I see you admiring my new office,” “office,” I repeated. Carrying the box directly into the room and dropping it, “Yeah workshop in the barn . . . office up here. So are you going to help me or continue to stare absent mindedly”? I shrugged not really sure what I wanted to do, “well can you at least push the couch to your room then”? “Me,” I yelled, “yeah,” he said beginning to push the couch towards my room. “It slides easily on the floor,” I groaned as I began to push the couch. My father retreated leaving me in the dark hallway.
I pushed the couch gazing at the freshly painted white walls, the wooden floors looked brand new. I stared up at a brass air vent which immediately caught my attention. A faint whistling seemed to come from the deepest depths of the vent. I released the couch and moved closer to it. The whistling had turned into soft sobbing. “What the hell is that,” I asked as I pressed my ear closer to the vent. It sounded like a little girl sobbing slightly but the sobbing began to change. The sobbing had been replaced by a soft wailing. The sounds of a little girl wailing echoed through the vent and began to grow louder. “Jack,” the wailing came to an abrupt halt, my dad stood in the hallway staring at me. “What are you doing,” he asked me, “did you hear that”? He looked at me confused, “hear what exactly”? “Somebody was crying,” “crying” asked my father who stared at me confusion clear. He stared at the vent and then down at me, he clearly could not hear anything. I pressed my ear to the wall and heard nothing the house was silent.
“Are you feeling ok, maybe that fall hurt you more then you think? Maybe you heard Brandon crying”? I shook my head, “no it’s not that dad”! “You didn’t hear it,” my dad was even more confused “what exactly am I supposed to be listening for . . . that crying”? I nodded, “You really can’t hear anything”? In such a disbelieving tone he asked, “No, can you”? I listened hard but still the house remained silent, I could almost feel myself pleading for something, anything to make me not look like a loon to my father. My dad looked at me unsure as he asked, “So are we going to stand here all day listening for sounds that aren’t really there”? Regretfully I pulled away. I wish I could have stayed there listening for the crying. Maybe if I heard it I could locate it, maybe even possibly identify it. However what was there to identify despite the fact of a major absence of a girl in my family. The fact that crying was something nobody in my family did except for Brandon.
Ding . . . Dong . . . . My dad and I almost jumped at the sound of our doorbell. It was the very first time we heard it and before the doorbell finished, a soft crackling sound could be heard. I almost expected the vent to start coughing up dust when the doorbell seemed to die. “Who could that be,” came my mother’s soft voice as she entered our large foyer. “It’s a girl,” I heard her say as she opened the door with a polite, “hello dear”? I heard a kind a voice reply, “Hello, you must be the new neighbors”? My father gave me a pat on the back, “I better go help your mother. Would you mind getting that couch out of the middle of the hallway please before your mother sees”?
My father retreated as I heard my mother say, “No please come in”. I heard the door open wider and footsteps on the wooden floor. “I love what you have done with the place,” the voice said. Deciding to feed my curiosity I walked over to the landing and gazed down at the first floor. My mother was standing across from a girl who looked maybe a year or two older than me. She was very pretty with a head full of red hair that curled slightly at the end. She was kind of pale but the freckles on her face gave her a rosy kind of glow. My mother said “James this is . . . I am sorry dear I didn’t really catch your name was it Cindy, Candy . . .” the girl laughed, “no Kathy, Kathy Richmond”. My mother shook her hand, “so you are our neighbors, where do you live exactly”? Kathy gave a an airily wave, “oh just a couple miles down the road so few people left in this dying town, I haven’t seen new people move in since . . .” she froze. “Well . . . ever, you guys really did a good job cleaning up this house,” my mother frowned seeing boxes still scattered over the floor. “Your too kind Kathy, but how did you get here dear”? Kathy just smiled “Oh well I like to go on walks and your house is on the way so I just decided to stop in and say hey”.
“I know my parents would think of it very rude of me to not offer you some good old fashioned Coopersville hospitality”. My mother and father gave polite little laughs, “I am sorry but I didn’t think that this town was big enough to have hospitality”. “Why don’t we have your family over for dinner sometime”? I watched the smile curl over her face, “I know my family would just love that, we will be in touch”. My mother smiled, “well it’s great to know that we have nice people like you right around the corner”. Kathy turned and gripped the door knob, “oh we are a lot closer than that”. I saw my mother and father exchange glances as she smiled again “I’ll be talking to you soon enjoy the house”. Kathy left the house with a gentle slam of the door. The absence of words stayed between my parents. I broke the silence with a loud, “well . . . that was . . . weird”. My mother looked up at me, “I thought she was nice”. My father just nodded in agreement, “nice,” clapping her hands together “alright you two why don’t you get back to work”. She pointed up to me, “Jack if you want you can start getting your room together . . . maybe we can all sleep in our actual beds tonight huh”?
It was funny but as my mother broke away and returned to the kitchen. I watched to see Kathy cross our driveway and make her way back to the street. My father began to grab at boxes as I just continued to stare out the windows. Kathy never made it to the road, “maybe she went around”. “Maybe who went around,” asked my father carrying a large box labeled clothes. “I never saw Kathy go back to the road . . . I mean she walked here right, she didn’t come here through the corn right”? My dad carried the box of clothes into the largest of the four rooms and dropped it loudly onto the wooden floor. “So how do you like the future bedroom of your mother and me,” not really interested in what my father was saying I just mumbled something that I hope was a response. “Have you checked your room,” I mumbled, “huh”? “Jack,” my father yelled as I seemed to snap back into reality. “Forget about Kathy alright,” I shrugged “I know it is just . . . weird”. My father gave a small smile as he waved, “go check out your room”.
“Yeah,” I said nodding “that sounds really cool”. I shook Kathy from my mind as I moved past the couch. I made sure to keep my eyes closely on the air vent as I passed. Thankfully the sobbing and wailing didn’t occur, it remained silent. I entered a large circular room the ceiling turned into a large cone giving it that “doll house” look. Windows surrounded my room as I got a great view of the town, every corn covered mile of it. I walked around the room, “I like it,” I heard myself say. The walls were freshly painted the carpet was a dazzling white, which looked brand new as well. The whole room seemed redone and everything brand new. I stared out each window catching nothing but a couple barns and a lonely street. The street lay empty except for “oh my god,” I slightly screamed. A figure was waving at me from the edge of the street its sheet of greasy and dirty blond hair clumped together. “She’s back,” I whispered I watched her raise something to her lips. As clear as day I knew she was telling me to hush up. If the confusion I had felt over the past couple of days reached a limit I was sadly mistaken. I watched the figure begin to wave me towards her and instead of the fear I should be feeling, I smiled. “You can’t be serious,” I whispered the figure must have sensed my skepticisms. The figure pointed right at me and waved again, what the hell is going on? Where the hell was the Sheriff and Deputy?
The figure continued to wave for me but my confusion began to diminish and instead a sense of curiosity filled me. This had to be the same person that had broken into our house. Maybe some answers could come from the figure? And like a bolt of lighting it hit me, it was Jessica Daniels waving at me. Jessica Daniels the former owner of this house. I turned and walked from the window, out my door, passed the couch, and down the stairs. “What are you doing Jack,” I whispered listening to my parents talking in the kitchen. I gripped the front door. “Are you sure you want to do this”? Quickly gazing around I found an umbrella and would have laughed but anything was better than nothing.
I quickly exited the front door. The dark figure had gone from the edge of the road. I gazed down every inch of the “corn line” when I saw a dark figure walking deep within the field. I began to walk closer to the corn feeling ridiculous clenching an umbrella for a weapon. I moved along the walk around porch and lightly dropped on the grass. I moved around the edge of the house. The windows stopped and a wooden wall covered with vines replaced them. The sun was still high in the sky but the wind seemed gentle. I moved around the back of the house where a huge prairie covered the entire backyard. “Hello,” I yelled but the wind was my only response. “Jack,” came a hoarse voice from behind me. I turned and fell into a large pile of dirt. The umbrella flew from my hand. I stared up at a dirty woman with blond hair too filthy to be recognized. It had a dirty, greasy, and muddy look to it. Her clothes were something a hospital patient would wear as her face was covered in patches of dirt. She stared down, her face exhausted and tired an almost dead look in her bloodshot eyes. She breathed hard as she glared down at me, “glad you came”. Her voice sounded unused and foreign to her, “Are you Jessica Daniels”? She froze every word seemed tired as she exclaimed, “We need to talk”.
(To Be Continued in Second Mini-Series)