Secrets at Dillehay Crossing-Chapter 8 - In and Around Dillehay Creek

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The door thudded shut behind Lilly. Her overzealous curiosity with Frank and her concern for him had angered him, and he was abundantly clear. He wanted her out of his apartment and to stop meddling in his life. But did he really? “Wait Lilly…wait!” Lilly heard the sadness and desperation in Frank’s voice as it penetrated through the door and thin walls of his apartment; she felt his pain and wondered if she should go back inside. Now’s not the right time. Maybe later when Frank’s a little calmer.

Lilly returned to her office still rattled from her encounter with Frank. She wanted to know more about Frank. What’s behind the hatred on his face? What’s the reason for the anguish and suffering in his voice? She remembered Grammy often telling her, “If you want to better understand someone, put yourself in the other person’s shoes and imagine his life and point of view.” Lilly was certainly willing to put herself in Frank’s shoes; but right now he was still too distrustful, unwilling to allow her to step into them. Lilly leaned back in her office chair; let out a huge breath; and pressed her palm to her heart, relieved to be away from Frank’s anger. Maybe Frank doesn’t know how to trust, she deduced. I seem to be reaching him, though. Like Nick said, I’ll just have to be patient.

Lilly looked out her office window. Sunbeams cascaded through openings in the canopy of trees illuminating the trail toward Dillehay Crossing and the old dilapidated farmhouse. Lilly stood up, slipped into her walking shoes, and ventured outside seeking refuge in the peace and tranquility that lay just beyond her office. She strolled along the winding pathways that lead toward Dillehay Creek and Hawkes Pond allowing the warmth of the afternoon sun to slowly relax her. Suddenly, a flicker of sunlight blinded Lilly; she shielded her eyes and saw something tucked between two black birch trees nestled together near Hawkes Pond. She squinted her eyes focusing on what appeared to be an ancient swing with a splintered wooden seat and faded red paint peeling off in curls. The aging wooden board now hung from one side; and it swung gently in the afternoon breeze as if remembering a child now grown up. The grass grew unchecked beneath the elder swing waiting to catch the child who once flung himself from the swing at the apex of its arc. It waited patiently, unassumingly, and quietly; but the child never returned. Who once played in that swing? John? James David? Maybe Nick?

Lilly inched her way along the pathway towards the swing for a closer view. The seat was a ghostly form of its previous self. Its once bright red paint was blistered through with rust; and the wood grain was now ridged from seasons of soaking rain, relentless Texas heat, and harsh winters taking their toll. Orange spots of rust peppered the chains; and from this close range, Lilly heard the chains, their eerie voices squeaking as they swung back and forth. She paused, hoping they’d divulge a secret or two about the young swinger and his past. Lilly sat down on a nearby tree stump, removed her shoes, and closed her eyes dangling her feet in the water. Something rustled in the nearby brush. Lilly opened her eyes just in time to see the shirtless young boy dressed in overalls dart by her, his bare feet splashing in the creek’s shallow waters. “Come on, Nick!” The boy motioned with his left hand and arm. “Help me catch that raccoon! Hurry, Nick, hurry!” he shouted running before vanishing amongst the trees and tangled underbrush that ran along the shore.

A few minutes later Lilly heard him again. “Nick! Where are you Nick?” There was panic in his voice this time. “I’m hurt, Nick. I need your help!”

“I’ll help you!” Lilly screamed, scrambling to put her shoes back on her feet. “I’m coming!” She fought her way through the undergrowth and trees running along the creek’s edge. “Where are you? Are you okay?” Her voice echoed through the woods. “Come back. I want to talk with you. Tell me, please. How do you know Nick?” Lilly turned her head and glanced around but heard nothing—only silence and the distant sound of water flowing in the creek bed. Impossible! She ran her fingers through her hair. That’s impossible! He couldn’t have just disappeared. She bent over, cupped her hands together, scooped up some water, and splashed it on her face. What just happened? Lilly’s mind raced with a string of baffling questions. Did I really see the shirtless boy again or is he just part of my crazy imagination? But what if he’s real? Who could he be? A relative? A young boy lost in the woods? How does he know Nick? Why am I seeing him? Why does Frank see him? There must be a connection that I’m missing. Maybe something in the attic will tell me who that shirtless boy is.

Lilly looked around. She’d run so far that she’d lost her bearings, and now all the trees and paths looked the same. Her world was spinning out of control, and she just wanted to get back to Hickory Pines. She turned aside, climbed a small hill, and stopped. Beneath her feet were velvety green sprigs of dog-mercury. Below her was a deep little dell, sharply sloping like a cup with a sprinkling of forget-me-nots all the way down to the bottom. Lilly skittered to the bottom of the small valley and paused, squinted her eyes, and spotted something white and familiar about 100 yards away from her. There’s the gazebo! I found the gazebo! Lilly rushed toward it and discovered the gazebo was draped with patriotic Fourth of July bunting and small American flags.

“Lilly?” came a soft-spoken voice from inside the gazebo. “Whatever in the world are you doing out here?”

Lilly peered inside and saw Relda sitting on one of the interior benches with a sketch pad in her lap. “Relda?” she asked, stepping inside and sitting next to her.

“You look a bit frazzled, Lilly. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing makes sense to me right now. Nothing. I’m not sure I actually saw him or just imagined him.”

“Him? You’re not making any sense, Lilly. Whom did you see?”

Lilly looked directly into Relda’s eyes. “Tell me honestly, Relda, do you believe we can see things that are unseen and hear things unheard?”

Stella hesitated before speaking, tentatively placing her hand on Lilly’s shoulders to test their connection. “Whenever I miss Stella, I visit this gazebo because I can see her spirit sitting on this very bench and can hear her gentle voice instructing me on how to sketch. Sometimes I can feel her hand guiding mine. I even heard her encouraging voice when I taught John and Nick how to sketch. So, yes, I can see the unseen, sense the unsensible, feel the un-feelable, and hear the unheard.

“Ever since I was a small child,” Lilly took a deep breath before making herself vulnerable, “I could see and hear things that were just unexplainable, but my friends and classmates ridiculed me convincing me that I was abnormal. Even my Grammy told me that the spirits I saw were just my crazy, childish imagination. Perhaps they’re right; maybe I am odd. Perhaps Grammy’s right, too. Maybe I don’t really see spirits, don’t see things unseen, and don’t hear things unheard. Maybe it’s time for me to grow up and ignore my imaginings.”

“Nonsense, Lilly! Nonsense! There’s a subtle world beyond reality that you’ve been privileged to discover. Don’t turn your back on that gift, ever! Just tell me what you saw.”

“Well…uh…,” Lilly paced around the gazebo. “…alright,” she stared at nothing for an overlong moment, sat down, and turned sideways facing Relda. “Just a short while ago I saw this young boy dart past me. He yelled, ‘Come on, Nick. Help me catch that raccoon! Hurry, Nick, Hurry.’ A few minutes later I heard him again. ‘Nick,’ he shouted, ‘I’m hurt, and I need your help!’ I followed his voice hoping to find him but never did. He just vanished, and now I’m wondering if I even saw him at all.”

“Do you remember what he looked like?”

“He was a shirtless boy who was, oh, maybe about 13 years old wearing oversized, frayed overalls and a brimmed straw hat.”

“Oh my, dear Lilly, oh my!” Relda stammered. “You saw Willie, Nick’s cousin.”

“So, the shirtless boy isn’t a figment of my imagination?” she asked, letting out a huge breath.

“Absolutely not!”

“How can I be certain I saw him? He was there in one moment then vanished in the next.”

“Ghosts are like that; they’re spiritual beings who vibrate in and out of existence. Like any soul, they yearn to be seen and heard so they seek out those of us who are gifted with the ability to see their vibrations.”

“I’m baffled. Why am I seeing Willie? What’s he got to do with me?”

“All I can tell you is that ghosts are unhappy spirits, unable to accept the kindness of death. They’re conflicted and seek someone who’ll help them. You must pay attention, and you’ll find out why.”

“So do you think Willie’s an unhappy spirit? Why? What can you tell me about him?”

Willie was my sister, Rose’s, adopted son. She often sent him to stay with us during the summer. Even though Willie was much older than Nick, the two boys spent their summer days together flying their kites, camping out, fishing, and hunting in and around Dillehay Creek and Hawkes Pond. Those two had a sense of adventure much like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.”

“You said Willie was your sister’s son. What became of him?”

“What happened that summer was tragic. Nick and Willie were camping down by Hawkes Pond and discovered a raccoon. They were determined to capture it and make it their mascot.

They chased it for hours, but the raccoon eluded them. Eventually, Willie spotted it burrowed inside a hollowed-out tree; but when he reached inside to grab the raccoon, it jumped out, clawed his arm, and bit him on the ankle before scurrying down the tree. Rather than coming home for first aid, the boys did what boys do; they just rinsed the blood off Willie’s wounds and continued playing. When they returned home, they never mentioned the raccoon incident.

About three weeks later, Willie complained of headaches, fever, and stiff muscles. Dave and I assumed Willie had the flu. Since I didn’t know about the raccoon bite on Willie’s ankle, I put him to bed, fed him chicken soup, and encouraged him to rest and sleep. After several days, though, Willie’s condition worsened. He had trouble sleeping and began vomiting and hallucinating. Dave and I took Willie to the doctor who discovered the bite marks on Willie’s ankle. After questioning him and Nick, he realized Willie had contracted the rabies virus from the racoon they were chasing.

The doctor’s words still echo in my mind. “The rabies virus has already invaded Willie’s body and brain; there’s really nothing we can do but make him comfortable.” Willie died a few days later.

“How heartbreaking!” Lilly answered, her throat tightening with tears.

“Willie’s death devastated us all, and Rose never truly recovered. Even now, the whole incident doesn’t seem real—kind of like a bad dream. Dave and I felt horrible, like we’d been irresponsible.” Relda’s eyes misted with tears. “Willie was always a quiet boy who rarely complained even if he was sick or injured in any way. I guess that’s why we had no idea he’d been bitten. If only we’d discovered the wounds sooner, we could’ve gotten treatment for Willie and prevented his death. Wounds are like that,” she said philosophically. “Left untreated, they fester up and grow, often becoming toxic and fatal. Of course, Nick felt heavyhearted for encouraging Willie to catch the raccoon and for not telling us about the racoon bite.”

Nick’s never told me anything about Willie. As a matter of fact,” Lilly’s voice sharpened, “he’s never even told me how his parents died. I learned about them from Dusty. Why would Nick keep that from me, Relda?”

“Nick blames himself for Willie’s death and still feels guilty about it. In a peculiar sort of way, I think he also blames himself for his parents’ deaths.”

“How could he possibly be responsible for the tornado that killed them? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t make sense to you and me. Because his parents died while doing something special for him, Nick’s convinced himself that he was somehow at fault. He’s clung to that belief his entire life. Sometimes I think he’d rather wallow in his pain and guilt and keep that wound open just to punish himself. Like Dave, he’d rather keep the past a secret and bury the pain than face it. If Nick can’t face the pain himself, how can you expect him to share it with you.”

“As gut wrenching as Nick’s past is, he shouldn’t keep it a secret from me. I’m his wife and deserve to know about it.”

“Deserve? I don’t know if you deserved to know anything.” Relda raised her voice as she asked Lilly a rather pointed question. “Would you say you keep secrets?”

“No! Certainly not!”

“Oh come on! Really? So you told Nick about the female ghost you saw, and you told him about the attic key I gave you?”

“No! I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not?” Relda’s face wore a puzzled expression.

“Because Nick just wouldn’t understand. Besides, I’ve never really considered withholding information a secret.”

“That’s what you tell yourself, but withholding information is a type of secret,” Relda said strongly. “Isn’t that exactly what Nick did that disappoints you? Doesn’t Nick deserve the truth?”

“Well, when you put it that way. Maybe so. But what if he ridicules me like my friends and classmates who made fun of me when I saw or heard things they didn’t see or hear? I don’t know if I want to endure that type of pain again. What if he forbids me from exploring the attic in search of answers to help John? In the long run, I think I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“I see your point, Lilly. Perhaps some things are best kept secret. So please understand, it’s okay with me if you need to keep some secrets. Just don’t convince yourself that you don’t. Everyone has secrets, Lilly—secret lives, secret thoughts, secret actions, secret fears, and hidden wounds. Most people never know about our secrets or our pain, but in our hearts we know they exist. Our secrets shield us from unpleasant experiences or protect us or even our loved ones from a agonizing personal truth. But when a secret is exposed, the pain hidden within it is unveiled, and there’s a great sense of relief, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lilly suddenly felt comforted knowing that Relda understood and even accepted that painful part of herself that she’d kept hidden from others for so long. It was as if her spirit had somehow been set free. She struggled to speak and to find the right words. “Yes, Relda, and thank you,” she uttered softly. “Thanks for trusting me with Nick’s secret. You are indeed my kindred spirit.”

Relda laid her sketch pad aside and hugged Lilly. “Nick’s mighty lucky to have found you; hopefully, one day he’ll talk about his past and feel that same sense of relief you just felt.”

“That’s my wish, too, Relda.” Lilly glanced at her wristwatch. “I best not dally here any longer. I need to find my way back to Hickory Pines before dark.”

“Are you sure you can find your way from here?” Relda asked with a worried tone to her voice.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure.” Lilly peered into the distance.

“Just follow this footpath from the gazebo. It’ll take you straight to Dillehay Creek. Hickory Pines is just beyond that ridge on the other side of Dillehay Crossing.”

“I’m much obliged, Relda. Don’t you worry now. I have a good sense of direction. So, I’ll be fine,” Lilly said with a tinge of apprehension in her voice.

Lilly turned in the direction of the footpath. Above her the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves creating a warm sensation that splashed onto Lilly’s face. A calmness flew by with the wind making her heart stop for a single second. She paused and listened to the grasses whispering behind her. In the distance Lilly heard a movement in the shadows and froze in place. At first it was no more than a rustle, but gradually more noise came. She crouched low to the ground behind some broken tree limbs that lay along the creek’s edge and waited, her lungs rapidly inflating and deflating.

The thundering of horse’s hooves split the silence, and she heard the heavy shuddering breath of a horse running at full speed. A lone stallion galloped across the landscape, the wind wisping at his flowing mane. He was a tall, sleek beauty with a glossy black coat. His legs muscled like watch springs propelling him forward as he powered over the land. Could that be the lone ghost rider I saw before? Lilly’s heart raced and her skin tingled all over. Between the tree limbs she saw the shadowy figure of a man perched upon the horse’s saddle. The rider cracked his whip and rolled his spurs across the horse’s sides. The horse responded and sprinted toward the fence. At the last second, it lunged forward barely clearing the top of the fence then raced towards Dillehay Creek. The soft soil along the creek’s edge was no match for its hooves; and in the wake, sods flew in an arcing spray barely missing Lilly’s face.

The rider pulled on the horse’s reins signaling it to slow down. The horse, lathered in sweat, obeyed. It slowed to a gait then stopped. The rider dismounted, tied the horse’s reins to a nearby tree, and squatted down with his back toward Lilly. Lilly inched herself forward, hoping to see the ghost rider’s face. She watched as he removed his hat and riding gloves, tousled his grimy hair, and dipped his bandana into the cool water using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead and neck. He stood up, turned around, and headed in Lilly’s direction. She gasped and tried to straighten up; but her muscles stiffened, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Stop! Who goes there?” The rider sprang forward and darted in her direction. “Show yourself! Now!”

“Nick, stop.” Lilly stared up at Nick through the broken tree limbs. “It’s just me, Lilly.”

“Lilly? What in tarnation are you doing out here?” A look of scorn flashed across his face. “You scared the bejabbers out of me!” Nick grabbed Lilly’s hand and pulled her up.”

“Sorry Nick. I didn’t mean to. But I thought you were, well…errr…uh, that ghost rider you told me about.”

“Geez, Lilly! You’ve got to stop imagining things.”

“But I—,”

“But nothing, Lilly!” Nick cut her short. “You’re driving me crazy. There’s simply no ghost rider out here—just me and my horse, Majestic.” Nick shook the dirt from his hat, slung it on top of his head, and tugged on the brim. “What the heck are you doing out here by yourself? How many times do I have to tell you before you believe me that you’re not safe out here all alone?”

“Oh, pshaw, Nick!” Lilly leaned against Nick breathing in his earthy horse and leather smell. “You worry too much about me. Besides,” she wrapped her arms around Nick’s neck, rolled up on her toes, smiled up at him sheepishly, and planted a kiss on his lips. “I have a perfectly acceptable reason for being out here.”

“Now don’t you go distracting me with those sweet tender lips of yours.” A flicker of anger and impatience shone in Nick’s eyes. “I’m serious,” he said in a deliberate voice. “You don’t seem to understand just how dangerous these woods can be.”

“Nick, you’ve already told me about all the varmints out here and how dangerous these woods are!” A flash of temper lighted in Lilly’s eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen to me! I’m not…” She caught herself before betraying Relda’s trust and telling Nick she knew about Willie and the racoon. Yet, she wanted to tell him that he wasn’t responsible for Willie’s death and desperately wished she could fix that wounded part of him that felt pain, anger, and guilt Lilly wanted to reassure Nick that her being in the woods didn’t mean she’d suffer the same fate as Willie. But now was simply not the time.

“Not what?” he asked.

“Not going to….to argue with you, Nick. You’re absolutely right. I need to be more careful. I have an idea!” She said in a thrilled voice, attempting to change the course of their conversation. “How about you and Majestic walk me back to Hickory Pines? That way I’ll be safe.”

“Hickory Pines?”

“Yes, Hickory Pines. I left my office earlier this afternoon and took a relaxing walk through the wooded area between it and the Mason property. I turned one too many times, got lost, and ended up further away from Hickory Pines than I intended.”

“Hickory Pines is an awfully long walk from here, so I’ll go you one better. How about I lift you up onto my saddle, and you ride Majestic back to Hickory Pines?”

“I don’t know, Nick.” She glanced over her shoulder eyeing Majestic struck by his overwhelming physical presence. “He’s so big and tall. Besides, I’ve never ridden a horse, and I don’t know how.”

“I know you haven’t, Lady Bug. But you’re a Mason now, and Mason’s ride horses. Besides, Majestic is a gentle as can be. You’ll be safe, promise.”

Before Lilly could object any further, Nick picked her up and eased her onto his saddle. “Put your feet in the stirrups, place both your hands right here on the saddle’s horn, and hold on. See. It’s simple. Now all you have to do is relax and enjoy the ride.” Nick took the lead rope in his right hand, walking slowly alongside Majestic’s shoulder and guiding him along the trails that lead to Hickory Pines. Lilly was astounded that this enormously powerful animal was allowing Nick to lead him around by nothing more than a string.

At Hawkes Pond, they stopped at a cool, shady spot beneath a canopy of trees, and Majestic dipped his head into the water, taking a long drink. Lilly felt the heat of the summer sun penetrating her muscles. She slowly relaxed, gently rubbing her fingers across Majestic’s shiny, black coat. It was silky soft to the touch and slick, and the muscle layer just under his skin was independently alive, twitching and quivering to her tentative touch. The best thing about him, though, was the way he smelled, like a perfume with an earthy, rich, grainy fragrance. It was like none she’d ever encountered.

Something rustled beneath the nearby undergrowth. Lilly tensed, and Majestic lifted his head, tilted one of his ears back then switched and tilted the other ear back as if interested in something. Lilly heard footsteps, and the shirtless boy emerged from the underbrush and sprinted along the shoreline. “Nick,” he said in a wobbly voice, “I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve missed you.”

Lilly blinked her eyes in disbelief. Majestic became agitated, neighing and tossing his head back and forth.

“Calm down, boy,” Nick stroked Majestic’s mane. “There’s nothing out there,” he said, staring into the underbrush.

“But, Nick, didn’t you see him?” Lilly asked with a bewildered look on her face.

“See whom?”

“The boy, the shirtless boy wearing overalls and a straw hat! You must’ve seen him. Surely you heard him. He called you by name.”

“I didn’t see or hear anything! Now, Lilly,” he said in a condescending and scolding tone, “there’s no one here but you, me, and Majestic.”

“But—but I know what I saw.”

“You didn’t see anything but the sunlight reflecting off the water. You’re eyes are playing tricks on you.

“But I heard his voice. I swear I did, Nick,” she said with a note of pleading in her voice. “He even called you by name and said, ‘Nick, I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve missed you.’.” She desperately searched his eyes waiting and hoping for his acknowledgement.

“Be logical, Lilly!” He barked. “All you heard was the water running off the rocks where Dillehay Creek flows into Hawkes Pond. You’re driving me crazy,” he said, his dark eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. “You’ve got to stop getting yourself worked up like this!” he demanded.

“I’m not worked up,” she snapped, surprised that she’d shot back. “I just wish you believed me, that’s all.”

“I don’t believe you and never will. Never! Nick countered with heat in his voice. “Those are figments of your imagination; they’re not real. You need to stop this silliness right now!”

Silliness? Is that what Nick thinks of me? How offensive! He acts as if I have some sort of control over the things I see, but I don’t. I thought when I married him that he’d understand or, at the very least, accept me for who I am. I was wrong, completely wrong, but I best not say anything else.

Nick words were arrows piercing Lilly’s heart, reopening her childhood wounds and reminding her of the painful rejection and ridicule she’d endured as a child. She was angry, angry because she said nothing else, cowering on the inside as she’d always done, unable to muster the courage to come to her own defense. She wanted to cry as she’d always done, but didn’t. She wanted to argue with Nick and exchange verbal blows, but didn’t. She withheld her tongue and became silent, burying her anger as she’d always done. Arguing is futile. I’ll never convince Nick of anything I saw or heard, not now and perhaps never. Lillie acquiesced as she’d always done, emotionally withdrawing as she’d learned to do as a child knowing full well that her silence and acquiescence would be interpreted as acceptance and submission.

“Come on, Majestic.” Nick yanked on the lead rope. “Let’s go! It’ll be dark soon.”

They walked towards Hickory Pines, the air between Nick and Lillie growing heavier with each advancing footstep. Nick knew his words had hurt Lilly. He admired Lilly’s unique ability to understand people and situations but was uncomfortable with her sensitivity, bewildered and terrified of her sixth sense and perceptibility. There’s no such thing as ghosts. Lillie must be crazy, that’s the only explanation. But the boy she described seeing at Hawkes Pond sounded a lot like cousin Willie—someone she’d never known or seen. What if Lilly’s right, and Willie’s spirit roams our favorite haunts around Hawkes Pond? No, absolutely not! There’s no such thing as ghosts or spirits. Lilly’s got a crazy imagination. She’s to blame and needs to stop.

When they reached Hickory Pines, Nick lifted Lilly off his saddle. Without making eye contact, he dropped a quick kiss on her forehead then mounted his horse. “It’ll be dark soon, so I best get Majestic back to the barn. I’ll need to bathe and groom him before putting him in his stall for the night. No need to wait up for me.” He was about to ride away when he remembered to remind Lilly about his plans for tomorrow. “Granddaddy Dave and I are leaving early tomorrow morning and traveling to Fort Worth to buy the meat for the Fourth of July Shindig. He likes to lunch at the Cattleman’s Club and go to the auction afterwards, so we won’t be home until well after dark.”

“Okay, honey bear.” She took a deep, steadying breath then blew him a kiss. “You Mason men be safe,” she said forcing a smile. “Remember, I’m visiting with Grammy tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll see you afterwards,” she said, her heart aching.

Lilly watched the sun descend behind the horizon; Nick disappeared, too, his silhouette vanishing in the moonlight. She headed home, her anger inside her, erupting into huge salty tears streaming down her face.

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