The Caretaker
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A one shot for the 30 Days of Em
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A/N: Thank you to LambCullen for the beta magic she works. Thank you to pre-readers Amelie, MoreThanMyself and Mizzdee. Thank you to the fabulous ladies I WC with, who encouraged me to run with this. Super special thanks go to the ladies of The 30 Days of Em.
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Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or any urban legends that may pop into your mind. I do not own the concept of campfire stories or spooky houses. I don't own any campy 70's horror flicks, or the concept of blond chicks running from chain saws. It's possible you might find this story scary, and it's possible that it holds triggers for some, related to infertility. I'm going to rate it "M", but it's not very lemony, at all.
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~TC~
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Emmett looked over at Rose, as they drove down the bumpy dirt drive that lead to the house. She was giggling, the old truck her up and down, flying off her seat even though she held on to the door's handle. The truck sputtered when Emmett killed the ignition, taking a full minute to stop.
He walked behind Rose on the long walkway that would take them to the front door, taking that moment to appreciate the view. Rose and he had not traveled far physically, only from the city to this place in the country, but the emotional journey had been a long one. He had fallen into this opportunity by sheer luck, and he was taking it as a sign from God that they were getting the fresh start they longed for.
Rose stood at the doorstep, knocking loudly before stepping back to wait. The door opened and they were met with a rugged looking, silver-haired man. He eyed them for some time, and Emmett forced his annoyance down. Lord knows how long this man had been responsible for the property. He probably would have liked to have more say in who took over for him.
The old man cleared his throat, then spoke with a rough voice, "Big, strong...you look determined, boy. I think you'll do."
Emmett managed a tight smile as he waited for the man to invited them in.
He didn't.
He walked through the door, his gait a bit halted due to some bowing of his legs. Rose and Emmett backed up, back down the path, giving the man room. Emmett chanced a look at Rose, who was looking at him with a cocked brow. He couldn't look at her again, he'd get the church giggles something fierce. Rosalie could always get him going like that.
Emmett didn't do 'awkward' well.
The man stuck his hand out toward Emmett. "Name's Stefan. I know you're Emmett."
Emmett shook the man's hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, sir. This is my wife..."
Stefan grunted. "Rosalie. Yes. You go ahead along Mrs. You'll find plenty to explore inside the house, while I take your man around the grounds."
Rosalie didn't do 'dismissal' well.
Rosalie glanced at Emmett, who pleaded with his eyes for her to just let it go. Rosalie gave him a look that he recognized, an expression that promised he'd pay for this later. He snorted, rubbing his stubbly chin with his hand. He could handle that.
~TC~
Emmett walked beside the man, as he grumbled along and randomly pointed to structures or equipment left lying about.
He motioned to the graves in the distance. "Now, you know this graveyard isn't active anymore right? The county keeps it tended because the buildings are here, able to house someone, and no one wants to buy untended land. So you'll not be tending to the dead unless something happens to unearth one of these souls. Eventually, someone will buy the house, the farmland that comes with it, and who knows what will become of the cemetery.
Basically, you need to mow, keep the grounds free of trash, remove dead flowers that have been left, and pull some weeds. You'll need to be doing some maintenance from time to time, but nothing too strenuous. Come winter you'll be needing to keep the paths and driveways cleared so people can get to the graves. There might be the odd occasion where you need to direct, or assist, a visitor to find their loved one. There's a directory and map in the desk at the house"
The man pointed across the street, toward an old barn. "Over there's the barn, in case you want to be keeping animals, or have things to store. The only thing I've ever done is chase the local hooligans out of there. They like to get up to all kinds of no good in there, in that silo too. Give 'em a good scare with a chainsaw and they stay away."
Emmett scratched at the scruff on his face. "I don't know if I'll be using that!"
Stefan laughed, "Well, you're a lot more able to take on a group like that."
"How long have you been the caretaker here?"
"Well, it's only been 5 months. It only took me that long to figure out that I took on way more than this old body could take." The old man's face had paled, his eyes dancing around, not meeting Emmett's. "Well, I suppose we should head on back to the house. I'm sure your wife will be looking for you."
The two men headed back in silence.
Standing in the foyer of the house, Emmett took in the rooms surrounding him. Wood floors, a giant wooden mantle surrounding a fireplace in what appeared to be a sitting room on one side. The walls were papered, the flowery design proof of a woman's touch sometime in the past.
A long stairway led to the second floor, where he could hear Rose walking around. To the other side was a dining room with a long, rough table. Beyond that, through an entry about the size of two doors, he could see the kitchen. It looked to have modern appliances, lots of counter space. Rose was going to love it.
He smiled up at Rose as he saw her coming down the steps. His smile faded when he noticed she'd been crying. He pulled her to him at the bottom of the stairs, and Stefan excused himself. "Baby what's wrong?"
She kept her head tucked into his chest for a minute, then raised her face to him. "It's silly, Em, I'm sorry, it's just...there's just a room upstairs." She shook her head and started to cry again, her tears soaking into his t-shirt. He held her tight, kissing her head. "Shh baby, it's okay."
Without raising her head, she spoke quietly. "The bedrooms, upstairs. They're all decorated. And there's just...one is decorated for kids. Balloons, animals. It just, you know. I wasn't expecting it."
He smoothed her hair with his hand, holding his lips to her forehead. "I'll take care of it, Rose. Don't go back in there. Give me a day to fix it okay?"
She nodded, finally looking up at him again. "I'm so sorry, Em."
He cupped her face in his hands. "No, no, Rose. Don't you apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'll take care of it. We'll be good here, baby. I promise." He pulled her to him again, holding her tight, whispering. "I love you so much."
"You too, Em. I love you too."
"Okay babe, why don't you take a minute, and I'll go finish up with Stefan." He kissed her cheek before turning to follow behind Stefan, heading toward the kitchen.
The old man wasn't in the kitchen, but another pass through took him behind the stairs, into a small room that adjoined the front sitting room. It was set up as an office, with a large roll top desk, and shelves lining the walls. Sunlight poured through the window and illuminated the particles of dust that were rising, as Stefan shuffled papers and notebooks around on the desk.
Emmett knocked on the wood trim of the pass through, not wanting to startle the man. "Hey, Stefan, sorry about that."
The man turned, his brow furrowed, his lips turned down. "Your wife? She...Is she alright?"
"Yeah. Yes. Thanks, she'll be okay." He motioned to the desk. "So this is the business end of things then?"
Stefan went through all of the details, paperwork, grounds checklists that had to be sent to the county, the map and directory. Next came a huge metal circle filled halfway with keys. Some modern keys, mostly old skeleton type keys. Each key had a piece of paper wrapped around it, with a number written on it. Around the paper was a piece of tape. Stefan showed him the master list that correlated to the set of keys.
"Now you're going to need to keep tabs on this. If you lose a label, replace it right away. Once you've lost a few, you have to go back and match things up again. I promise, come winter, you're not going to want to do that."
Finally Stefan leaned back against the desk. He crossed his arms, looking Emmett in the eye. "Son, it seems like we've covered everything. I know you're from these parts, so I don't have to tell you about freezing pipes and blizzards. The county runs by once a month, weather permitting, to make sure things are going okay. There's only one thing left for me to say."
The old man cleared his throat, a gruff, nervous sound. "The people around here, they love to talk. There are more about this place, and the people who've lived here, going back more than a hundred years. There have been plenty of deaths here, but there have been at any homestead. Parents, children, yep, there's been all kinds of death here. For every other grave there seems to be a tale of unfinished business or revenge. It can't all be true, but like I said, I could not walk away without letting you know, if you believe in such things."
Emmett scoffed. "Nah, Stefan. People are bad enough to each other, and enough bad things happen to good people. I just can't believe there's another dimension waiting to make us more miserable. But it's good fodder for cold nights, that's for sure."
Stefan motioned to the shelves again. "There are journals, photo albums, here, on that there shelf. Different caretakers, back to when they weren't just caretakers, but farm families and grave diggers. I'm a history buff, it's been enlightening for sure. I'll caution you though, reading all that? Looking at the pictures, it'll put an idea or two in your head."
Emmett ran his hands through his short hair. "Aw, yeah, you don't need to worry about that with Rosie and I. We'll be fine."
Stefan eyed him skeptically. "Well, it seems like your woman scares easy, and I'd not be an honest man if I didn't say something."
"Oh, that, no. No, that wasn't a scare." Emmett walked closer to the man, not wanting to further any rumors. He spoke softly, making sure he had eye contact with the man. "Rose, see, Rose wants a baby more than anything, and it just hasn't, it's just not." Emmett hung his head. "There's a kids room up there, and she just, she wasn't prepared, that's all."
Emmett caught Stefan's eyes, and they held a soft glow. "Well boy, I bid you well. I'm sorry for your troubles, and only hope maybe you are the people this house has been waiting for. My best wishes to your wife and you, and good luck to both of you. I'll be on my way now."
Emmett followed him out, Rose meeting up with him in the foyer to say goodbye. Emmett receiving a handshake, and Rose getting a tight hug.
"Goodbye then. You best get going about what couples are supposed to be going about, now. Any questions, call the county. Take care and be safe."
At that, he dropped into his beater of a car, tried several times to start it, and then finally it roared to life. He backed out of the drive slowly, but Emmett was surprised to see him tear out like a bat out of hell once his car met the street.
~TC~
By the time Emmett had come back into the house after seeing Stefan off, it was starting to get dark. When he opened the door he was met with the smells of food cooking, and followed his nose toward the kitchen. Before he met the pass-through, he heard the strains of music drifting through the rooms. "Bad Moon Rising" was blaring from Rose's little transistor radio, and he stopped in the entry to watch her.
She was unwrapping dishes and washing them, her behind swinging as she worked. She was completely oblivious to him, so he stayed still. It was far too rare that he got to see her unguarded, and this was priceless.
Finally, she turned and saw him, giving him a smile. He walked over to her, taking a mug from her hand and placing it on the counter. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head atop hers. "Looks like you're getting a lot done in here. Anything I can do?"
She pulled away from him, smiling. "No, not now. Maybe after dinner you could carry in some more of the boxes from the truck? The food's almost ready though," she handed him some plates and silverware, "would you take these to the table?"
He set up the table, a place setting at the head of the long table, and then right next to it. He sighed, thinking of how unnecessary this huge table was, just another reminder for Rose of what they didn't have. He shook his head, hoping to shake off the sadness that had invaded him.
Minutes later, she came in, bearing a big dish that she put on the table. She walked back into the kitchen, bringing in a can of beer for each of them. She sat next to him, popping the top off her beer at the same time he did.
"Cheers, Em," she said, holding out her can for him to tap, "to new beginnings, right?"
He couldn't resist her hopeful smile. "Yeah, Rose, new beginnings."
He looked down at the dish in front of him, cheese bubbling on the top, the aroma making his stomach growl. He looked back at her and she laughed. "It's okay, dig in!"
A couple of hours, a few beers and a lot of tipsy dances later, they were both yawning and sleepy eyed. The mess from dinner still hadn't been cleaned, and when Rose started to take care of it, he slipped into the living room. He'd deal with a minute of her exasperation to give her a peaceful night's sleep.
He quickly went to the set of mattresses leaning against the wall, waiting to be brought upstairs to the bedroom. He slid one of them to the center of the room, then made quick work of raiding the box of sheets and blankets and stuff, making up a crude looking, but comfortable bed. He's grabbed the lantern from the truck, and now placed it by the mattress. Once he had it lit, he turned off the overhead light and surveyed his work.
He wandered into the kitchen, and helped Rose with the final tasks he knew she'd need to do to be able to call it a night. Thankfully, it seemed she hadn't missed him during his absence. When they were done, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the dining room and into the living room.
She was surprised at what he'd done. "Oh, Em! Thank you so much. I'm so tired, and just want to...and I couldn't go up...thank you, baby."
He kissed the hand he'd been holding, then pulled her down onto the mattress, so that she was laying on top of him.
"You're so good to me," she whispered. "Thank you for this."
She pressed her lips to his, softly at first, then needy. Under the covers of their makeshift bed, they peeled clothing off slowly, mouths and hands reacquainting themselves with familiar territory in this new environment. As Emmett made love to her, he put everything into trying to make her forget, to make her remember how beautiful she was, how wanted she was.
Tonight would be spent here, cozy in the dim light of the lantern, no horrible reminders of times past. Tomorrow he would do nothing other than make sure she could be upstairs without reliving her nightmares.
Soon after they had fallen asleep, a small puff of air extinguished the flame of the lantern.
~TC~
He woke the next morning, the harsh sunlight burning into his face. Rose slept, still, curled around him, holding on as if for dear life. He loved the contact, but hated the fear, the misgivings that made her cling to him. Still, he didn't move, savoring this time with her.
A while later, when she woke with a small yawn and a stretch, he pulled her into a full embrace. "Good morning, babe," he whispered. "And what is your plan for the day?"
"Well, I still have to put up most of the kitchen, the bathroom down here, the living room. All cleaning and unpacking." She looked at him, her brows furrowed. "If you can't get to it today Em, it's okay. I have enough to do down here, and it was kind of cozy sleeping down here with you."
He rolled her over onto her back, settling between her legs, kissing her softly. "Nope, I start today, two days tops. I'll get started right after breakfast." He smirked. "Speaking of, what's for breakfast, babe?"
She rolled her eyes and pushed him off of her. "Whatever I can find, Em. Go shower or something while I figure it out. I'll call you when it's ready."
The two went their separate ways, excited to get started with their day.
~TC~
Rosalie decided to keep things simple for her husband, pulling out a half dozen eggs and a handful of bread for toast. The radio was back on; she was happily singing along and cracking eggs into the frying pan when she heard a light thumping overhead. The thumping seemed to travel from area to area, one minute over the kitchen where she stood, then more towards the office that was attached to it.
Chills ran down her spine as she walked toward the office, spatula in hand. As she neared the pass-through to the office a persistent banging noise sounded, different than before. It grew in intensity and speed the closer she got to the pass-through to the office. She slowed her steps, but couldn't help moving toward the room.
"Rose!"
She dropped the spatula to the ground, spinning around to find Emmett standing by the stove, looking none too happy.
"What are you doing? These eggs are burnt to hell. You okay?"
She was relieved to see the look on his face turn from angry to concerned, but she was so embarrassed about the eggs. "I'm so sorry, Em, I heard something. I heard this banging, and it was so loud, and then something else..."
She bent to pick up the spatula, bringing it to the sink to wash.
"Aw, Rose, this is an old house. It was probably just the old pipes knocking around while I took a shower." He chuckled, walking over to her and holding her to him. "Look, I know you're spooked, just let me do a little work and you'll see, there's nothing to be scared of in this house. It's just a house."
She nodded her head, wondering if her imagination and fears had gotten the best of her. That's what made the most sense, of course. She squeezed her husband back, then broke away to clean up the egg mess and start breakfast over again. "It'll be ready in just a few minutes. Sit at the table and I'll get your coffee. I'm so sorry, again."
He smiled at her, the smile that almost always made everything okay. "Don't worry about it ,babe, we're going through a lot of changes. We, you, we'll adjust and it'll be perfect."
This time, as she broke the eggs over the frying pan, she lost two eggs to shaky hands and broken yolks. Thank goodness she wasn't hungry.
~TC~
Emmett made his way upstairs, trying not to let his concern for his wife overwhelm him. He understood her reaction to the kids room upstairs, where he was headed now. Heck, he'd seen the room and it was almost macabre, the happy balloons and circus animals on the wallpaper, the dilapidated, shredded and yellowed wallpaper. The carpet had dark, rusty stains that spread across it, and the musty smell was almost unbearable.
He hoped that ripping up the carpet would reveal a wooden floor that would be a reasonably easily fixed project. Once he got the swollen windows open and the screens popped out, he started to pull the rug and the padding up, delighted when the first small corner revealed a honey colored surface. Encouraged, he began tearing with abandon, huge pieces of musty carpeting tossed out the window as he made progress.
Hours later, covered in sweat and dust, he finally paused, taking stock of his progress. The floor was clear, the tack straps that held the carpet down, were gone. With a little sanding and a fresh coat of varnish, it wouldn't be half bad.
He headed downstairs, planning to check in with his wife, grab some lunch, figure out the rest of the day. He would need to head out to the hardware store for some supplies for the room, and he was sure she'd want to chime in on paint colors for the room.
The ever present radio echoed throughout the first level of the house, "Magic Man" bouncing off the walls. Walking through the empty kitchen, he spied a pile of sandwiches on a plate, next to a couple glasses of lemonade. Grabbing one of each, he walked further back, heading to the windows that looked over the yard.
He'd been standing at the windows for a few moments when he heard the sweeping sound of a page being turned. He turned toward the sound, seeing Rose in the office, sitting at the desk with a huge volume in front of her. He walked toward her, knocking on the frame of the pass-through, so as not to alarm her. She didn't look up.
He walked deliberately, but his heavy footsteps did nothing to alert her. When he was finally directly behind her, he placed his hand on her shoulder, again gaining no reaction. Looking over her, he saw the book that she was entranced by. Faded handwritten entries lined the pages of what appeared to be a journal and scrapbook of sorts. He scanned the entries, his interest growing to concern in a short span of time.
August 17th, 1882: Having just settled after a week of activity, I am finally free to write of our new venture. Benjamin happened upon this unique opportunity at the elder's meeting after Sunday service. Word had been passed, from parish to parish, of the need for a family to take over this homestead. They would take over care of the property and all of it's structures, helping to run the attached school and grounds for those called home to God. With paying work hard to come by, and several hungry little mouths to feed, we would have been fools to turn it down.
He squeezed her shoulders, calling her name to get her attention. "Baby, why don't you come have lunch with me on the porch, leave these dusty old books for some other time?"
"What? Oh, sure. Let me just put this..."
"No, it's okay," he said, unable to explain his urgent need to get the book out of her grasp. "I'll get the book and put it back, you go on ahead. I'll be right there."
When she had left the room, he took the book and placed it atop the shelf, hiding it from view. He'd read more later, when Rose was asleep.
He sat next to her, feeling a little guilt over hiding the book from her, but the urge to protect her from sadness and fear was stronger. She snuggled into his side when they were done eating, giggling about her overly tart lemonade, and discussing plans for the room upstairs.
Rose had decided that it would be a perfect guest room, and asked for a sunny yellow color for the walls. He looked at his wife, so resilient, so beautiful to him. "Do you want to come with me to the store?"
She smiled at him, shaking her head. "No, I really should get back to work. If I get enough done I'm hoping to take a nice long walk and see what's growing around here."
He kissed her on the cheek, then left.
~TC~
Rose went back into the kitchen, determined to get the kitchen done. It looked like the floor hadn't been scrubbed in years, so filled a bucket with warm, soapy water, and got to work. It was filthy work, and about halfway through the kitchen she stood to switch out the water. She stood at the sink waiting for the bucket to fill and staring into space, when she heard something.
She turned off the water, turned the radio off, then just stood still and listened. Just as she was scoffing at herself for having an overly vivid imagination, she heard it again. A clear giggle sounded from around the corner.
She walked slowly toward the sound, but it retreated as she followed. Within minutes she was standing at the staircase, the tinkling sounds of a child's laughter wafting down from above. She grasped the banister with a trembling hand, each shaky step on the stairs making them creak and groan.
When she arrived at the top of the stairs, the tears began to run down her cheeks, her heart knowing exactly where she was being led. She rounded the corner, heading down the hall, to where the noise was growing in it's wildness, turning from innocent giggle, to mocking laughter by the second. Her legs barely held her until she finally reached the children's room, at which point they buckled. Rosalie knelt before the room, her face frozen in a soundless scream.
Blood pooled in the middle of the room, then began to seep from the walls, coming through he tears in the wallpaper. The wicked laughter had turned to horrified screaming and she scrambled back away from the room, surprised to find the screams were her own. Before she could assess where her backwards clamber was taking her, she had reached the stairs, rolling down them and landing at the bottom in a crumpled mass.
~TC~
Emmett pulled into the driveway of his new home at dusk, to find it unlit, and completely silent. He opened the door, set his bags down, and flipped the light on. The sight in front of him shook him to the bone.
There lay his wife, the only movement her shallow breathing. She was on her side, curled into herself. There was blood caked in her hair, and her eyes were closed. He bent down to wake her gently, cringing as he got a closer look.
"Hey," he shook her gently, "Rose, you've got to wake up baby."
She didn't respond, and despite the desperate need he had to pick her up and put her in bed, he knew better. He went to the kitchen to wet a rag, hoping that cleaning her up would keep him sane, while he waited for her to wake up.
Some time later, still sitting next to her on the floor, he saw her eyes flutter. No
sooner than he'd registered her waking, she began to scream, completely incoherent except for one word, 'blood'.
He was able to get her to calm, cleaning her as best he could while he tried to reassure her that he had not seen blood anywhere in that room. He brought her to rest in the bed, bringing her a hefty glass of his whiskey, once he felt sure her head was okay. He lit a fire in their makeshift bedroom, the dark being too much for her to bear.
He cuddled her late into the night, until she was finally sound asleep. He took advantage of this time to head up the stairs, try to see if he could figure out what had happened.
He took full inventory of the room, now brightly lit by the overhead fixture. The wallpaper remained, shredded and dismal as before. While the floor harbored quite a few scuffs and stains, he saw nothing that should have alarmed Rose, as it obviously had. He'd have to see if she could provide him with more information tomorrow, anything to keep her from having this reaction again.
He returned downstairs, grabbing a sandwich leftover from lunch, then heading to the office to grab the book. He brought both into the living room to be by his wife, and read in front of the fire. He opened the book to the page where he'd left off.
September 5th, 1882: It is horrific to record that I heard tell of the nature of the previous caretaker's departure. At the after service luncheon, there had been a wave of whispering, following our formal introduction to the parish. While the womenfolk were admonished for their gossiping ways by their husbands, of course my curiosity was piqued. Pastor was kind enough to sit down with us and separate rumor from fact.
It would seem that the family who lived here before us, was troubled beyond repair. They had arrived much the same as us, but slowly the mind of the father, a Jonathon Stanley, began to falter. Come spring of last year, after the long winter, the man stabbed his wife and children, before taking his own life by hanging himself in the barn.
September 28th, 1882: It is with a great fear in my heart that I put these thoughts to writing. Over the past weeks, young Ben has been so traumatized. Every night he calls out to us, his terror evident when we go to him. He cries and shakes, screams and pounds his little fists on his father. He's inconsolable at night, and during the day, he is dead on his feet. The lack of sleep is evident in his pallor, the dark smudges and redness that rim his eyes, the gauntness of his face. I worry so, but it seems as if there's nothing to be done of it.
Emmett woke the next morning, half the sandwich on his chest, and the book splayed open on his lap. Taking a peek around the room, he could see Rose beginning to stir, so jumped up to put the book away. He was now secure in his decision to keep the book from her, and more than concerned about what would happen if she ever found out what had happened here in their home.
It had taken over a week for her to be back to normal, sprained joints, bruises and cuts making her body fragile, and her mind seemingly unable to rest. She woke screaming nightly, even now that she was up and about, unwilling to talk anymore about the event that triggered them.
The room had been finished. He'd stripped the wallpaper, coating the walls in the brightest sun yellow he'd been able to find. The baseboards and ceiling were white. A big bed with a brass headboard sat in the middle, under the window, and right over the only stain in the floor that he hadn't been able to sand out.
He had to bite his tongue when he showed it to her, and she'd just stared at the spot, not saying a word. They were only weeks into their stay, she'd been a mess the whole time, and he'd put off all of his work to make this room okay for her. She didn't even thank him.
He decided to make one last ditch effort to make the room palatable to her. He'd found untold treasures in the barn, where he'd found the bed and numerous other furnishings. There were beds and sofas, tables and what he was looking for now, area rugs.
He had to climb up into the loft again, climbing over, under and around items to reach them, but then he found them. Rolls of rugs, piled under a sheet. He took his time selecting one, a simple flowery design in yellows and blues that he thought his wife would love. He brought it to the side of the loft and threw it over, where it landed in an explosion of hay and dust.
He returned back to the ladder, where he started his descent. About five steps from the bottom, he lost his footing, landing on the floor on his back. He closed his eyes, bringing his fingers to his temples.
A whisper was building in his head, he tried to dismiss it as a reaction to being overtired, worried and feeling like he was floundering. Just a little voice, but so unfamiliar to him that he found himself squeezing his head to rid himself of it.
"The bitch had better be grateful this time."
~TC~
The next days were busy. Emmett got to work on the actual responsibilities of the care-taking position. Rose continued to unpack and move them in slowly. In the time when he was not working on the grounds, he was painting and repairing, anything he could do to make his wife happy in their new home.
Rose hadn't really returned to her normal self, and it was becoming frustrating to be around her. Today he'd taken his lunch with him so he wouldn't have to come home midday. He was in the cemetery, after mowing all morning. Curiously, he found a familiar name on the headstone before him, and chose to sit and lunch with him.
"Well, well, well Mr. Stanley...fancy meeting you here!" He took a big bite out of his sandwich, laughing to himself as he chewed. "Jonathon Stanley, bats in the belfry, eh? That's okay, right now, believe it or not, you're better company than my woman."
He picked at the grass in front of him. "You know, you try. You try your best to be a nice guy. You do everything you can, to be a good husband. Is it ever good enough? I don't mean to speak for you, Mr. Stanley, but let me guess, no?"
Wiping his hands on his thighs as he stood, Emmett spoke again. "Well it's been a real slice sharing a meal with you, Mr. Stanley. I hope we can manage this again."
Emmett made the short trip to the machine shed with the mower. After putting it away, he decided to do a little tool maintenance. He grabbed the file and sat on the tool bench to sharpen the pruners, the first in a row of regular and gardening tools he'd need to get sharpened before he went home.
When he had perfected the edge on a pair of tree branch loppers, he stopped to survey his progress. Standing in the silence, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He'd seen movement, he could swear a boy had run across the grass just outside the shed.
He exited the shed, heading around to the space in front of the shed window, guessing this would be the first hooligan encounter he'd have. He walked all the way around the shed, seeing nothing and chalking it up to a branch moving in the breeze. He returned to the shed, walking straight to the bench to grab the file, then turned to grab another tool.
When he turned he was met with the face of a leering boy. He was sickly pale, his eyes blackened, his lips dry and cracked. He wore tattered overalls, filth covering his body and clothing. Still he smiled, inching forward, waving a pocket knife at Emmett.
"Look," he said, trying to control his wavering voice, "just put the knife down kid, and maybe I won't call the police."
The boy ran his hand backward across his nose, sniffling and snickering as he did so.
Emmett held the file in front of him to ward the boy off, looking to his side to find something more persuasive. Stefan's chain saw sat on the bench, and Emmett grabbed it and pulled the cord, setting it roaring to life. Satisfied, he looked up just in time to see the boy vanish before his eyes, blinking out quickly like a lamp being extinguished.
That evening at dinner, neither of them spoke, and Emmett was kept company by a quickly dwindling bottle of whiskey.
~TC~
The next morning Rose approached him tentatively. "Baby, I was thinking..."
He cut her off with a huff and an eye-roll, but she didn't let it go.
"It's just, I miss you, you know, since we came here, and we don't really seem to have time anymore."
"Right Rose, it must be all the work getting in the way of our special time," he sneered.
"Well, right. See, and I thought maybe if I came to meet you, brought you lunch where you are, it would be nice. I could be, you know."
She was wringing her fingers and he just wanted to grab them and twist them. He'd never given her a single reason to be afraid of him, and here she was acting like a beat down dog.
"Fine. I'll be working by the barn. Wait at the side for me. Don't be thinking I can take all afternoon." He stalked off, not even bothering with his morning coffee
~TC~
She was careful as she readied lunch. The music was blaring, the only way she could work in the house with Em gone. She lived in constant fear of the noises and sights she'd seen. She knew she hadn't imagined them, just as she knew something was not right with her husband. This house, this place, it was bad, and she had to get them out. She just didn't know how.
She bundled up the lunch inside a picnic blanket, and walked over to the barn. She could hear him then, in the barn, muttering to himself. She couldn't understand what he was saying, but when she peeked in, he was gesturing wildly, a rope in one hand, a flask in the other.
She shrunk away from the barn, laying the blanket out, and placing the food on top. Then she waited.
She had no way of knowing how long she waited, but it was long enough for the cold drinks to begin to warm. He spent that time seemingly engaged in the same activity, the grumbling never stopped, and she could sense no cessation of movement.
When he finally joined her, she was truly frightened. She served the food without saying a word, her hands trembling as she handed it to him. He snatched the food from her hand, shoving it in his mouth like a hungry animal.
She waited until he was finished before she started. As much as she feared this conversation, she figured it was now or never. "Emmett, talk to me. What's wrong?"
He looked up at her, his eyes dark and wild, his eyebrow cocked in challenge. "Wrong, Rosalie? What could possibly be wrong, darling Rose?"
"It's just, since we've been here, it seems like something is wrong with you, with us. Please just talk to me!"
He stood up, pacing madly before her. "Me? Wrong with me? I'm not the one that can't be left alone in the house without freaking out and falling down the stairs. I'm not the one with an irrational fear of a room!"
Rose stood, backing away from him, towards the barn.
"All I've done since we got here, Rose, is try to make you happy! I'd apologize for my inadequacies in the face of your perfection, my beautiful flower, but I don't think that I'm the problem here! Have you considered that maybe it would serve you well to say 'thank you' for my efforts? Have you even once thought about the pressure I have on me to keep this place in order? The other people in this world, besides you, that depend on me?"
"I can't talk to you when you're like this. You don't mean what you're saying. Em, we have to leave. I think we need to get away from the house for a little while, please!" She was pressed up against the barn, with him coming steadily toward her.
Suddenly he punched the barn wall beside her head, "I think, that what we really need, is for you to shut the fuck up, and get away from me, before I hurt you!"
She ran then, tears flowing from her eyes, slamming the door of the house behind her. She flew up the stairs, squeezing her eyes shut to the room featured in her nightmares, running to the dresser in the bedroom Em had set up for them. She pulled a suitcase from the closet, and started throwing clothes in. When it was full, she settled in the window seat, where she could watch the barn across the street.
When she was satisfied that he wasn't going to be coming to the house in chase after her, she went to the kitchen to grab the keys to the truck. She'd leave, go to her Mom's house, until she and Emmett could talk calmly. For the time being, it was getting dark and she didn't want to be home when he came back.
Finding that the keys weren't on the rack, she slid to the floor in the kitchen and cried. Going over her options, she decided to see if maybe he'd left them in the truck, and if not, she'd have to go find him and ask for them. She scribbled a note to him, picked up her suitcase and snuck out to the truck.
She slipped her suitcase into the truck bed, then peered through the windows. She was in luck, the keys sat on the seat, all she had to do was get the door open and the truck going without alerting him.
She wanted to just leave, but a part of her needed to see where he was, if he was likely to hear her when she left. She decided to walk over to the barn, it was dark out now, he wouldn't see her easily if he was still inside it.
She hid behind the double barn doors, balanced on a stone, peering in to see what he was doing. He was pacing again, his words unintelligible but for the random shout.
"Not getting away!'
"I have it under control!"
Sitting on the ground in front of him was a yellow chainsaw, it almost appeared as if he were speaking to it.
Simultaneously, several things happened. The rock she stood on tumbled out from under her, and her eyes met her husband's.
A smile spread over his face, and he asked calmly, "Going somewhere babe?"
His eyes flicked to the chainsaw, and Rose took off running.
~TC~
Officer Newton was out on his usual patrol route, when he saw something on the side of the road. He pulled over, ready to call Animal Control to come collect yet another deer, when he saw the blond hair. He did manage to call for back-up before vomiting onto the roadside, but only just.
Over the next few days, the little town was inundated with reporters from around the country, all wanting to talk about the fifth such tragedy in 100 years at the old homestead. The poor girl, massacred as she ran, and the husband, apparently despondent afterward, hanging from the rafters in the barn.
Now the cameras all pointed toward the home, where a bulldozer had been hired by the county, at long last, to raze the place. Anyone local knew how lucky it had been that the couple had no children. Anyone with half a brain knew that restless souls weren't bound to houses, but to the land where their blood seeped into the earth.
~TC~
March 5, 2008: The Skylark Development Corporation announced in a press conference today that it had finally succeeded in purchasing a valuable tract of land located on Shoe Factory Road in Hoffman Estates, IL, for the purpose of residential development. The single-family homes will retail for upwards of $300,000.00, this being the only undeveloped land in the very popular suburb.
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E/N: Shoe Factory Road, and the homes and stories surrounding it, exist in different forms. I wouldn't want to be living in one of the luxury homes that are being built on the land. I wonder if someday there might be a fic about the people who move in...
Tee hee.