Chapter 17 - Secrets at Dillehay Crossing - Just Below the Surface

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Nick trudged home beneath a midnight blue sky, beckoned by the stars under the light of a brilliant full moon that lit the path from the barn to the house. He approached his house—silent, serene, and semi-dark save for the warm, inviting glow of the lamplight in the living room window. He twisted the door knob and paused, carefully opening the door to the welcoming wide hallway.

Upon the walls were framed family photographs—some spoke to him of joyous times while others whispered of sadness, the hints of the hard times that came. He kicked off his boots, strolling past the couch and curtain-framed windows. The floor beneath his feet was an old-fashioned parquet with a blend of deep homey browns, and the walls were the greens of summer gardens meeting a bold white baseboard. He headed upstairs, his fingers on the banister—a twirl of a branch, tamed by the carpenter's hand, it's grain flowing as water might, in waves of comforting woodland hues.

At the top of the stairs, he heard the curtains rustling in a breeze through the open bedroom windows. He entered his bedroom walking past Lilly who was asleep with a half-read book lying upside down across her chest. Nick took a soothing shower and eased into bed, lifting the book off Lilly’s chest. She brushed up against him, tucking up her legs and pulling the lightweight blanket around her shoulders. He nuzzled her hair and relaxed, relishing the quick kiss she gave him. “I love you, Honey Bear,” she murmured before turning over and falling back to sleep.

A few hours later, the sun rose with an almost casual elegance, filling the sky with shades of pink and orange. In its wake, the cool, crisp smell of night gave way to the sun-warmed earth. Silence gradually gave way to noise—birds chirping, cows mooing in the distant, dishes rattling in the kitchen downstairs, and the coffee pot percolating. Lilly awoke with a start, her stomach lurching and gurling. She swung her bare feet out of the bed and onto the carpet, racing to the bathroom, grabbing the rim of the toilet, and vomiting. She stood up, wiped the bad taste from her lips, and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash hoping to rid herself of the stomachthroatmouth taste and smell.

“Are you okay, Ladybug?” Nick asked from the other side of the bathroom door.

“I think so,” she said, emerging from the bathroom feeling a bit woozy.

“You look a little green around the gills to me.” He replied, drawing his eyebrows together in a thoughtful frown. “Maybe you should lie down.”

“Don’t be silly! For some reason the smell of the coffee percolating turned my stomach—probably nerves about my first shindig or just a little stomach bug. Either way, I’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not convinced…but if you say so.”

“No time to be sick. Not today. I have lots to do before the shindig begins. Besides, I need to wake Grammy. I promised to take her on a tour of the Mason property, and she’s terribly slow waking up and even slower getting dressed.

Lilly walked across the hall, lightly knocking on Grammy’s bedroom door. “Grammy, can you hear me? It’ time to get up.” When she didn’t hear Grammy rustling, she knocked again. “Grammy are you awake? We have a full day ahead of us,” she said with urgency in her voice.”

“Give me a moment. You know, getting up isn’t easy for me to do.” She laughed, putting her feet into her house slippers, shuffling across the room, and opening the door.

“Good morning, Grammy. How did you sleep?”

“As best as could be expected given the circumstances. Come. Stay with me while I get dressed.” She walked toward the dresser, riffling through the drawers randomly picking up items and putting them back down. “I dreamed about Willie last night. I know it’s not possible, but he was so real—as real as if he was right here with me.”

“Maybe he was with you, Grammy. What if—

“—Now, now, Doodlebug,” Grammy rolled her eyes. “I’ll have none of that beyond the grave nonsense!”

“It’s not nonsense, Grammy. I wish you believed me!” she spouted, the tension building in her neck and shoulders. “If only I could explain it to you in a way that makes sense. I have experiences, experiences that suggest there’s a realm beyond the world where you and I live. Just last week, for instance, Nana Dulce visited me in my dreams. It was as if her spirit was dropping in and checking on me while I slept. No, I didn’t actually see her. I just sensed her presence was with me; and when I woke up, I smelt her favorite perfume lingering in the air. You remember it—that soft floral perfume she wore that smelt of roses and baby powder. Even when I’m awake, I sometimes sense her presence. Every once in a while I can even feel her hand on my shoulder especially when no one’s around.”

“I know you believe that mumbo jumbo, that spirits are real and with us. I don’t! That’s your crazy imagination. I was just dreaming, replaying the day’s events in my head while I slept. Nothing more.”

“I wish you trusted me enough to believe me. Nana Dulce did!” Lilly huffed, pressing her lips tight into a grimace.

“Shame on her for indulging you with all that talk of spirits and using your gifts, just like she did with her own daughter!” Her voice rose an octave.

“Maybe you’ll believe me and my gifts after you’re gone and decide to come back from the grave to visit me. I’ll be waiting for you.” Lilly retorted, a flash of temper lighting her eyes.

“But look what happened to your mother.” Grammy threw Lilly a wounded look. “She abandoned you and took your father with her pursuing her gift, her sixth sense as she called it. Being a psychic isn’t a gift or even a talent; it’s something she conjured up in her mind. Promise me,” Grammy demanded, gripping her right hand around Lilly’s upper right arm, “you won’t become like her. Promise me!”

“Okay, Grammy. Okay! I promise. I won’t run off with Nick and become a psychic, but I do wish you recognized that I have some of the same gifts she had—gifts that you actually indulged by encouraging me to use my intuition, to be mindful and perceptive, to listen with my eyes and see with my ears, and to help others with my insights and understandings.”

“Those gifts are real and practical,” she said releasing her grip, “but seeing things that aren’t here and smelling things from beyond. That’s a bunch of hooey! Spirits aren’t real, and neither are the ghosts you see.”

“Maybe one day you’ll see a ghost. Then what?

“I seriously doubt it.” Grammy shrugged.

“I can hope,” Lilly said in a sarcastic tone. “Anything’s possible. Seeing is believing. Isn’t that what you taught me, Grammy?” The words leapt out of her mouth of their own accord.

Grammy pulled down her eyeglasses looking over the rims with a flattened, scornful gaze. “You always seem to know how to turn my words against me. You can’t treat me like this!” she cried with protest in her eyes.

“You’re right, Grammy! I was disrespectful of you.” She gasped, cringing on the inside. “I’m sorry. My words were hurtful. Please forgive me.”

“Of course I’ll forgive you, Lilly. I always do. I love you, but twisting my words, anyone’s words for that matter, is most unbecoming of you and a betrayal of your true nature. I raised you better!”

“Yes, you did.” Lilly looked away, unable to look Grammy in the eye. “I wasn’t being mindful. I apologize for being antagonistic and even a little manipulative. I won’t act that way again.”

“It happens to all of us, Doodlebug. Now that I think about it, I can see that I let my unresolved anger towards your mother cloud my judgment and spill over into our relationship. I’m partially to blame for our little tiff.” Grammy wrapped her arms around Lilly giving her a bear hug.

“I love you and don’t ever want to hurt you with my words,” Lilly said, her voice softening.

“I know you don’t, so don’t fret about it any longer. It’s all water under the bridge,” Grammy said stroking her back.

“Your hugs are the best!” Lilly squished Grammy tightly, her face beaming. “They still make me feel comforted and cared for.”

“That’s what Grammy’s do.” She smiled her sweet, reassuring smile and gently kissed Lilly on the cheek. “I best shower and get dressed. You promised me a tour of the Mason property.”

“So I did.” She chuckled, suddenly feeling queasy again, clutching her stomach.

“You alright, Doodlebug? You look pale around the neck.”

“For some reason, I’m feeling a bit nauseous this morning. Don’t know why, but I’ll be fine. Really. Nothing that spending time with you won’t cure. I’ll meet you downstairs, and we’ll grab a quick bite before we get started.” But the thought of food turned her stomach even more, so Lilly rushed to her bedroom again befriending the rim of her toilet. After rinsing out her mouth and washing her face in cold water, she scurried downstairs to the kitchen doing what Grammy always did to soothe her nauseous stomach—she made a cup of hot tea, dissolving some ginger powder in it. She carried the cup with her upstairs, slowly sipping on the concoction while she dressed. Grammy’s magic potion worked, but she was still bloated making her western jeans and shirt snug, almost too snug especially when she sat down to put on Relda’s red boots. She fastened Grammy’s pearls around her neck, grabbed her cowboy hat, and headed downstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs Nick greeted her. “Wow! There’s my sexy cowgirl!,” he stared at her, his eyes sparkling and gleaming. “You’re a Mason through and through!” He picked her up and twirled her around before remembering her early morning bout with nausea. “I’m sorry, Ladybug.” He eased her back to the ground. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Somewhat, yes. I drank some of Grammy’s anti-nausea potion. I’ll be good as new before you know it.”

“Then you’ll be ready to do some boot scootin’ later?”

“Absolutely! But first I promised Grammy a quick tour of the Mason property. Where is she, by the way?”

“She’s sitting on the back porch swing eating the toast and drinking the coffee I made her. You want anything to eat before you leave?”

“I think not, not with the way my stomach’s been acting. Don’t worry. I’ll be plenty hungry by the time the shindig begins.” She stood on her tiptoes, placing a huge kiss on Nick’s cheeks, turning towards the back door.

“Not so fast, little lady!” He tightly wrapped his arms around Lilly in such a way that she couldn’t escape. She placed her arms around him, and they rocked back and forth while embracing.

“Time to go!” Lilly pried herself from Nick’s arms. “Grammy and I will meet you at the gazebo later.”

The remainder of the morning, Lilly drove Grammy around the Mason property giving her what she called her nickel tour. They spoke only occasionally as they drove along Old Mill Road, the scruff brush, stunted trees, and clumps of dandelions dotting the landscape on either side of it. A tractor kicked up dust in one of the nearby fields, and horses whickered in the background. A gentle breeze stirred, bringing the sweet smell of alfalfa through the car’s open windows.

“Look at this old bridge, Grammy!” Lilly exclaimed as they neared the narrow, one-car bridge that crossed over Dillehay Creek. “There’s something curious and haunting about old bridges like this one.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that—I don’t quite know how to explain it.” She stopped a short distance from its wooden piers. “Over time the seasons changed, but this bridge remained curiously the same, made different only by the sunlight or the dappling effect of the clouds. The nearby grass waned in the winter and came back strongly every spring, as did the leaves and the new birds. When the spring rains came, the creek beneath it swelled then declined becoming so shallow in late August that folks waded right across it feeling the cooling water on their feet. In October the days waned, and the surrounding trees donned their coats of scarlet and gold. Time marched forward but left an unspoken history buried deep within its well-seasoned wooden beams.”

Lilly gently pressed on the gas pedal and crept onto bridge, the boards complaining beneath her tires. “Do you hear that groaning? It reminds me of a tired old person who’s carried the burden of life for so long. And like any old person, it has stories it could tell—stories that haunt it during the cover of darkness, stories of a bygone time, and stories of those who drove across it before me. I can’t help but wonder what those stories might be.”

“Oh, child!” She shook her head and muttered under her breath. “It’s just a bridge, nothing more.” A pinched, unhappy expression crossed her face. “I confess. I’ve never understood your preoccupation with the supernatural, invisible world and doubt I ever will.”

“Maybe if you think of it more as a spiritual world than a supernatural one then perhaps you can accept or at least be a little more tolerant of my views.”

“I’ll try. Go ahead,” she said with a slight catch in her voice. “Explain.”

“For me, the spiritual world is a very real place, and one I’ve never been able to escape from no matter how hard I tried, even as a child. Each of us is a spirit even when we’re alive. When our bodies die, some of our spirit or energy lingers behind in old houses and old structures like this bridge. It’s that same spirit, the spirt of a departed loved one, that sometimes visits us in our dreams.”

“Hearing you talk about such outlandish ideas troubles me,” she said, wrinkling her nose disapprovingly. “I don’t know how you came by them. Nana Dulce?”

“No, Grammy!”

“If not her, then who? I certainly didn’t teach them to you.” A pained look appeared on her face. “Lord knows I tried my best to discourage you, but I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me, not by a long shot. You couldn’t have kept me from delving into the spiritual world no matter how hard you tried.”

“I understand and can even accept your childhood fascination with that world beyond, but you’re an adult now. How can you believe so strongly in something so far- fetched, something you can’t see or touch?”

“I liken spiritual energy to electricity. I don’t understand how electricity works. I can’t see it either, but I know it exists and use it without question. The same is true of gravity. I don’t understand it and can’t actually see it, but I know it exists and trust in its existence without question.

“Not sure I agree with your reasoning, but you make a compelling argument.”

“I realize I’m different, Grammy, sometimes painfully different. That difference is uncomfortable for you, but I mean you no harm. Try not to worry about me and take solace in knowing I’m comfortable with who I am. Please, don’t try to change me.”

“You’re certainly different, I’ll give you that.” She smiled a half smile then sighed. “You have a right to be who you are even if I don’t understand you or always agree with you. Know I love you regardless.”

“I love you, too.” She reached across the seat giving Grammy’s arm a big squeeze before exiting the bridge and turning in the direction of Hawkes Pond.

“Do you remember those pictures you looked at last night, the ones of Nick and Willie at Hawkes Pond? Just to your right beyond the tree line is where Dillehay Creek empties into Hawkes Pond, one of my favorite spots on the Mason property. When was the last time you spent a quiet moment dangling your feet from the edge of a pier and watching waves rippling on a pond?” Lilly asked with a whimsical look in her eyes.

“Since I was a child.”

“That’s too long!” Lilly abruptly turned off the car’s ignition and bolted out of the car. “Come on, Grammy. It’ll be fun!”

She took Grammy’s hand, and together they walked to the edge of the pier where they sat down and removed their shoes, dipping their toes in the cold water taking in the tranquil scenery around them. An old row boat tied to the pier bobbed up and down. Waterlogged sticks floated at the pond’s edge. Tadpoles swam in the shallows. Trees and clouds reflected on the water’s smooth surface. Lilly picked up a stone and threw it across the pond shattering the silent stillness. Splash! The sound was big, reverberating throughout the surrounding area scattering the nearby herons.

Lilly stood up casting her eyes across Hawkes Pond. “We all have in us a secret pond,” she thought, “a pond where our unexpressed true feelings and our true selves with their fears, misdeeds, and regrets lie just below the surface How ironic that we hide ourselves in our own water.”

“Who’s house is that in the distance,” Grammy asked interrupting Lilly’s train of thought.

“That broken-down old farmhouse?” She pointed in the direction of the abandoned farmhouse on the other side of the property.

“Yes, that one.”

“That’s the most fascinating old house with—“

“—with stories to tell, right?”

“Yes, Grammy. How did you know?”

“Because I know you, Lilly, and your love for old houses, their lingering spirits, and their hidden stories.”

“Wait till I tell you about this one! It has a most intriguing past, a past that the Mason family prefers keeping under wraps. Granddaddy Dave’s sister, Francine, lived in that house with her husband, Robert, a no-count drunkard prone to rage and violence. According to family lore, Francine bore the brunt of his rage and died in premature childbirth after one of his beatings.”

“Oh, my! What a tragic story! Did the baby live?”

“Yes, and as the story goes, Robert blamed his son for Francine’s death, physically abusing him and routinely punishing him with his fists. John grew into manhood learning to use his own fists to express the anger and rage his father gave him. At some point John left Dillehay Crossing, allegedly killing a man in New Mexico for which he was convicted and imprisoned. He escaped from prison and disappeared only to be arrested again in San Francisco some 20 years later, this time for robbery. End of story. No one’s seen or heard from him since.”

“So he just dropped off the face of the earth never to be seen or heard from again? That’s some kind of family story! And here I thought you were going to tell me that Francine’s ghost haunts the old place and that you’ve seen her.”

“As a matter of fact—”

“—Not now! I don’t want to know. I just want to enjoy the scenery and imagine Willie and Nick fishing from this pier.”

Grammy squinted her eyes peering into the distance, imagining Willie in his tattered overalls and straw hat running along the edge of Hawkes Pond and nearby Dillehay Creek. Lilly leaned back on her elbows and closed her eyes, letting them rest while soaking in the warmth of the sunshine and taking in the freshly calm air with its earthy aroma. Even with her eyes closed the bright sun brought a smile to her face. It was the sort of brightness that kindled something beautiful within her and at the same time stirred a connection with the nature around her. It was one of those rare moments when her soul seemed to merge with every living thing.

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