It was a week later, summer was burning through the cotton sheets. No matter the time of day, it was blistering and all the dust and clutter in the house only made it hotter. The windows and doors were left open at all hours just to catch a stray breeze. The dog still hadn't come into the house. Sometimes Mark saw it when he tilled the fields. The other day, he sniffed at the Mark's shoes as he tilled shirtless.
Takakura has been making the rounds on the field, slashing the grasses and piling it. Mark appreciated it, it would be needed by the time that cow came. The only cow he has ever really taken care of was one when he lived with his father. It was always a straggler, always smaller than the others and barely gave any milk. He felt sorry for her. He always tried to pay her special attention but she soon died after only a few years. He buried her despite his father's ridicule.
Inside the home, Mark tossed down his hoe. It was still stuffy. He hasn't experienced anything strange in the house since the flower incident. Well, except for slamming doors and windows. That didn't bother him so much as the weird voices he occasionally heard.
He would go room to room looking for the masculine voice that was always out of reach.
He sighed and just let his heavy breaths move from his chest. Who cares if it's already summer? Looks like it's time for some spring cleaning.
Donning a spare apron hidden in the kitchen and a kerchief from that Celia girl, he went to work. He was a little nervous to go and ask for the kerchief. Takakura was the one who told him where he could get one. The Vesta brood seemed interested, a little too interested, in his cleaning ventures and lavished him with tips and supplies.
Celia walked the path with him to his farm with a wink and a push from Vesta. Inside the home, she was removing the photos and blinds off the windows. She had the idea of removing the furniture from the house and doing a deep-down-scrub-down. With her sleeves tied way back, up passed her shoulders and her dressed tied a bit higher, Mark couldn't help but notice her olive skin that freckled on the shoulders and arms.
She even tied her hair in a low pony-tail. Mark liked the idea of having a woman around the house and didn't mind her talking to him in that soft voice of hers.
"Okay, we just need to move the big furniture now" she said, shimmying behind the heavy oak dresser. Mark quickly went to helping her, trying to flex his strong muscles in her sight. Little did he expect her to start moving it all on her own. "Oh, could you get the chairs? I'll come back to help with the table" she said, pointing through the kitchen door.
Takakura soon came by, poking a head through the door.
"How is everything going?" he asked. Celia was already outside and Mark was coming through the kitchen door with the chairs in his arms.
"Well, you could always help. We have a lot to do"
"Like what?" he asked.
"Dust, scrub the floors and walls, wash the furniture and drapes, among other things" Celia said walking passed through the door. Mark was just going to say dust. He looked around the macomb house in despair. All that? We have to do all that?
"That sure is a lot. Thanks for coming over to help" Takakura said to her, "Is there anything I can do?" She walked over to the bed and the little wooden stand before turning to him.
"Well, we are still moving the furniture. You could help with that" she paused, "If that's okay with Mark" she said. Mark just nodded. It certainly would go faster if he helped. He didn't mind Celia taking the lead, she certainly knows what she's doing. Much more than he does.
Takakura went to work taking apart the bed frame. It was made of wood with some wires. Celia carried out the night stand. Within roughly twenty to thirty minutes, the inside of the home had all the furniture removed. It was difficult when they got into the closets and kitchen cabinets. Mark's cheeks turned a dark rouge when Celia found the boxes of candles.
"What's this-" she quickly became quiet when it was evident what the items were. Long, gooey wax candles, some down to the nub. Some with wax melted on wax on wax on wax. They were molded together by it. Celia just quietly took it out.
Behind the refrigerator and where the other furniture it had been was darkened by dirt and dust. Celia brought in hot water and a few clothes and sponges. She really knew how to scrub and put in the elbow grease.
As the hours went by, the house did seem to lighten up a bit. Takakura was fixing the window in the main room and Mark was scrubbing the floors. There was dirt and candlewax caked thicker than tree bark. Tears in the sponge were even cut by it. Celia was having an easier go and pacing around with the soapy buckets in the kitchen. All the doors were propped open so Mark had no problem watching her.
As he scrubbed, he hit something. The texture of it was sharp and it tore at the raw sponge. Almost pissed, he lifted his sponge and looked it over. The inside was flaking out. A rusty nail? The floor had plenty of those. When he glanced around for it, he found something else. One of the wooden floorboards was chipped and raised higher than the others. He hadn't noticed.
He laid a hand flat on the board and tried to push it back down but every time it rebounded and bounced up. It felt loose compared to the other boards that he tested. The last time he was able to grip the end and lift it out. He would need to replace it. Most of the wood was probably rotten at this point.
How did his father allow it to become so dirty and stuffy? When he tossed the board on the ground and turned his body back around, he saw something strange. Takakura upon hearing the wooden clattering of the board, pivoted his head from the window to him.
"Be careful with that-"
"Woah…" Mark said leaning over the whole. From it, he withdrew a book. It was thick, a volume so big, Mark had to stretch the length of his grip to hold the sides of it.
"What is this?" boyish curiosity blooming in his voice.
Takakura snatched it from him and without even looking at its purple cracked cover, he held it away. Celia had stopped her cleaning and was lingering in the kitchen doorway.
"Hey!" Mark shouted. The end-tail of his shout died as he realized he was down on his knees and Takakura was a tower in comparison. "I barely got to look at it" he said, he glanced back under the floorboards where there was a long table-runner in sangria with molted candles laid perfectly.
"I-uh…I'll take this" he replied. Mark was left nonplussed in his position. Did he just take it from him? It was found in his house. He turned to Celia to see if she had seen this strange behavior but upon their eyes meeting, she turned back into the kitchen.
Takakura didn't remain there long, he quickly went out the door, the book extended far from his body.
Mark watched him go as he sat. Still befuddled, he glanced back at Celia who was back wiping the sinks. Her eyelashes obscured her eyes as she leaned over it. He could see her eyes looking more grey than brown. Her gaze had no commentary nor judgement, a camera's lens focused on him.
His sweat chilled as it rolled down his jaw. She quickly rolled her eyes away and smiled. He didn't like it. Something about the whole scenario made him feel a familiar feeling. He felt it last night. He stewed in it. He stewed in it when Takakura came back and he stewed in it when Celia went crossing through the rooms.
Takakura came over and kneeled down beside Mark. "I think I can clean this out" he said. Takakura put a thick hand down into the opening. Mark quickly shot his hands down into the gap onto the candles.
"No, I have it" he wasn't going to let him take over. "Can you go and work on the window again?" he tried to perk the ends of his mouth into a smile. Takakura didn't back away immediately.
"I insist" he said, his heavy hand pressing down onto Mark's.
"No, I have it handled myself" he forced the grin. "It's just some candles"
Takakura sighed and raised himself and begrudging, went to the window. When Mark saw him lift the window pane, he turned back to the candles. Some of them were carved into figures. He lifted it into his gloved hand. A face was carved into it. A menacing expression shadowed the carvings. It was poorly made but it seemed to resemble a woman. He traced his fingers over the curves and grooves. His father must have made these.
There were more. All the same figures though. It was strange. The candles were an assortment of reds and plain waxy whites. As he removed the table-runner he found something else. Beneath it was a small compartment, a hole even deeper into the foundation. With no basement, this was dug into the ground.
Before he lifted the wooden panel covering, he had become cognizant of Celia's presence beside him. The hem of her dress, although hiked up, waved by the breeze through the doors. Mark paused when he realized. He kept his head low and scanned the flooring. As he moved it, he heard the clamoring of hammering from Takakura quiet down.
He took a breath and removed it. He knew the both of them were watching. Underneath, cradled by the earth was a doll bound by wild grass. He lifted it from it's bedding. The entire doll seemed to be made of dirt and wild grasses. Probably from the field out front.
It was morbid, holding it in his hands gave him an intense feeling of foreboding, almost like floating on negative frequencies. As his eyes bore into it, he saw a pair of slender hands scoop it right out of his. He turned to Celia, who had the most expressionless gaze.
"I'll take care of this" She said, moving out to the doorway.
"Wait- I still want to look at it" he called to her.
"Nonsense" she replied, "Boys don't play with dolls. I will give-" she shuddered abnormally, "-it a new home" she didn't allow him a response and passed through the door. The doll that had been cradled in-between her hands in front of her bosom, now dangled at her side by the neck.
He just watched.
"I think that is enough for today" Takakura said.
"But we haven't-"
"It's fine. Why don't you just spend the night in the inn again?" Takakura interjected. Mark didn't like the sound of that, especially after what happened the night before. If his anxiety for the inn was already raised, it was intensified after the entire episode.
"No, I uh don't want to do that. Let's just fini-"
"Then stay at my house tonight" he said. Mark wasn't too sure about this. He didn't like this feeling he was having. The feeling of being left out of the loop. No matter what happened, it always felt like others knew things he didn't. Of course, all these people were here before he was and although everyone seems to be keeping tight lips, they sure have been dropping bread crumbs. To no where in particular but still…
It should remain dead like your father.
He didn't know what to do but glowering at the ground didn't solve anything. No one seems to want to tell him anything. The way Takakura and Celia acted made it obvious that they knew something. Of course Takakura would know something about his father, they were buddies after all, but Celia? Vesta seemed familiar with his father. That's probably how Celia knows.
Do you know what your father was like for the last year of his life?
No, but he sure as hell was going to find out.