25 George Moves into a Haunted House

"The truth is a trap: you cannot get it without it getting you; you cannot get the truth by capturing it, only by its capturing you." - Søren Kierkegaard

Now if this wasn't fucking ironic. George pulled her SUV up to the curb and looked the house over. The landscaping would need some work, otherwise it hadn't changed much. She craned her neck forward a bit so as to check the sky, or not. The clouds were dark and hanging low. And she had to move in the hard way - no ghosting - and she wasn't looking forward to carrying boxes in the rain. She didn't have all that much - just this one load of boxes - but she would have to hurry or she might get wet. She backed into the driveway and got out.

This morning at the Waffle Haus Trip had asked her to move back in to housesit. It sounded great and she jumped at the chance. Rube frowned, and looked like he wanted to say something, but he compromised by showing her his constipated look, which Trip didn't even notice, and said nothing. She welcomed the chance to move out. As much as she loved her sister that house was cramped. Daisy took up one bathroom, basically, leaving the rest of them to share the other. Reggie and then John had moved in and the two occupied her old bedroom. A few weeks on the sofa and she started considering other options.

A foreboding pushed away the sense of irony. She had experience picking up on Rube's unspoken signals. She also had a lot of memories of this house and most of what happened to her in her brief life connected back here somehow. What she once had here, what was, what might have been, was now lost forever and this weighed heavy as her eyes traced the familiar lines of her past. After death, she had haunted this house and its occupants. The front was a giant face looking down on her, waiting for her, inviting her to come inside, to be swallowed up by her past. Away from this place she kept her memories tucked away safely compartmentalized and under her control. She could reach in and cherish one or mourn some other at a time of her choosing. But if she moved in then...she would be inside the memories...and at their mercy. They could assault her at any time and...

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Young lady may I help you."

George flinched and faced the source. An older woman walked up to her. She looked familiar. She almost remembered her. One of those memories out and about. George said, "Hi. I'm... I'm...moving into this house. I'm…"

"This house hasn't been sold. I know the lady who lives here. She's away...for a time, but I know for a fact that she did not sell it."

"Oh, no. I didn't buy it. I was hired to housesit until the owner returns." George tried again and put out her hand. "Hi. My name is Millie."

The other woman didn't take it. She frowned and lingered on George's outstretched hand. George lowered her hand. A memory tickled her and asking to be let out of its compartment. George invited the memory up and said, "Aren't you Suzanne? I believe Ms. Lass mentioned you."

This nudged the woman off her full-on hostile and she said, "So Ms. Lass hired you to housesit?"

"Actually, Suzanne, given her situation." She paused here to let that sink in. "Given her situation, Mr. Hesburgh engaged me to move in and take care of things. Her daughter, Reggie, will be coming by to help out...along with her boyfriend."

OK. That one two three worked. Suzanne relaxed and smiled a bit. Some new concern took over and the frown returned. "So you know Mr. Hesburgh, and Reggie too?"

George nodded. "I do. I'm sure you will see them."

A whole new Suzanne emerged, but not the one George had hoped for. "Well, could you tell your employer not to park in front of my driveway? The last time he showed up in three vehicles, what with his bodyguards and all." Something occurred to her. She softened. "So Reggie and that young man are like...They grow up so fast."

"I will make sure Mr. Hesburgh gets the message."

"How is Joy doing? Will she be home anytime soon?"

George wished she knew, too. She tried the truth. When in doubt. "I don't know, but when I learn something..." With Trip's sister loose and Dave out and around there were a lot of things she would like to know sooner than later.

"Well, let me know if I can help out." Suzanne, assured that George wasn't robbing the place, headed home.

George entered the house - through the front door, and with a key. She closed the door behind her and stepped into the foyer where she could see the rooms to either side and the stairs in front and kitchen door in towards the back. This house was bigger than the old one and she would have it to herself, for now, for a while at least, she hoped. Please. She looked around. She was the only ghost here. She smiled.

The curtains were all closed, but that was good. She could see just fine and the dark comforted her. She walked through the rooms downstairs contemplating the memories collected all around her. She had sent a great many souls into their lights and too often been on the receiving end of their last reflections. Often innocuous looking little knick-knacks sitting on a shelf or hidden away in a drawer had a strong pull on the newly dead. You can't take it with you. Some of these things here had meaning for her, but she was sure, from her new perspective, that it all had meaning for her parents and Reggie. Ah, she noticed all her photos had been removed, just Reggie's remained. Oh, well. Dear Mom would crap herself if she knew whom Trip had asked to housesit while she was away...resting. In the kitchen the sink was clean. She opened the frig door. All of this food had gone bad and would have to be thrown out. Well, maybe not this mustard, or this ketchup. The cupboards had all the dishes, pots, and pans she remembered and more. She stood in the center of kitchen and smiled. And it was all hers, almost. As long as dear Mom stayed in that hospital she would have the run of the place. No pitter-patter of little feet and no Daisy raising her voice. No Mason or Ray or Tommy. And if she was honest she felt relief to be away from Reggie and John. It still hurt to look at him. And having him in front of her face every day even if he was with her sister. It was good to get away. That triangle was unhealthy. She walked through the guest bedroom downstairs or what used to be the den. It could be a den again, her den. She liked the sound of that...hers.

Upstairs she went through the bedrooms. Which one? She could have her pick. She didn't feel right in the biggest one, the master bedroom. The bed was made and tightly too. It was too big and, well, too much baggage of the wrong kind. She checked out the smallest of the three and it was just too small. She left her old room till last. She jiggled the door handle, opened it, and entered her past, and it was just right. So ironic. It was waiting for her, just her. This was haunting done right. She ghosted the exercise machine out into the hall. She would decide later where to put that. She ghosted up into the attic and found her old bed and mattress. In a matter of minutes she had her original furniture back in place.

She went outside to begin moving her stuff inside. She opened up the back of the SUV and leaned inside for a box.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Hello, young lady."

George paused. She had heard that voice somewhere. She stood up and around. An older woman, another one, walked toward her. George smiled. She almost remembered who the fuck this was. Where were those cherished memories when you needed them? Or maybe this wasn't near the top of her cherished list.

"Hello, young lady. I heard you're moving in. Is there anything I can do?"

"Hello..." George got it. This was Claire, the other neighbor who obviously was on the same telephone network for gossip as Suzanne. "My name is Millie. I'm housesitting."

Claire bustled closer holding her hands together in front of her and leaning in like she was confiding something important. "I heard Mr. Hesburgh hired you to housesit while poor Joy is away. He's so rich you know. I wonder."

George took the bait. And knew there would be a hook. "What do you wonder, Claire?"

Claire was taken aback. "How do you know my name?"

Oops. Don't bring a memory out before its time. "Suzanne mentioned you. What's on your mind?"

Claire was OK with that and hurried on through her gossip checklist. "How is Joy doing? You know, we were all shocked when...she left. And this Mr. Hesburgh takes such an active interest in her. You know, he's so young and he has that nice wife and they visited here several times. You know, they have bodyguards. Makes me worried. I guess after they tried to kill him last year he has to be careful. But they are a bit...have you seen them? They all are carrying guns all the time. We..."

George couldn't see an off-switch, but she thought to look for one. "You know, Reggie, works for him now. She was taking care of his nephew and got caught up in that attempt on his life, and I think, you know, he's taken an interest in her and her family."

"Reggie has grown up, you know. And she's seeing that handsome young man. He comes by here with her. That whole thing was terrible. Do you think maybe that's why Joy...had to go away for a rest?"

George said, "I don't know about Joy's rest. Mr. Hesburgh asked me to move into the house for the time being until she comes home."

"What's your connection to Mr. Hesburgh? Are you...you look awfully young...are you a university student...yet?"

"Claire, I'm older than I look, and, yes, I will be attending university this coming summer semester." As an after thought. "I'm a transfer." From where? And I slept with Mr. Hesburgh and reaped his father and I knew his wife when she was a student, but we'll let all that slide for now, and ever.

Claire looked her SUV over like she just noticed it. She had an amended checklist of questions, probably starting with how a young girl could afford such a large SUV, but she turned back to George and said, "Well, I live in that house. If you need anything just let me know." Something more seemed to jump into her mind and her face knitted up with some worry. "Do you have a lot of visitors, parties, that sort of thing?"

George smiled. "Claire, really, do you think that Mr. Hesburgh would hire someone irresponsible? You won't even notice me." She leaned forward and her smiled broadened. "I'll be like a ghost haunting the place."

This seemed to satisfy Claire, then the words sunk in and her brow furrowed. "Do...you...know...about?"

"Do I know about what?" George smiled again.

Claire decided the better and said, "OK. Let me know if you need something. Bye."

With that encounter out of the way and before any more memories could sneak up on her George grabbed a box and went inside. She brought her moving boxes - mostly clothes - upstairs and soon had her closet and dresser filled again with her very own clothes. The money and jewelry she decided needed to be better hidden. Most she put inside her bedroom wall, and the rest she left in her dresser drawer, the bottom one, where no one would think to look. For good measure she put some underwear on top. Her photo collection she set up on the dresser top facing away from the door and any casual inspection. She stood in the middle of the room, her room again, and looked around. She wasn't sure moving back into her old house was the healthiest thing for one of the undead to do, but, hey, why not? If someone upstairs didn't like it they had her number. She looked inside a hall closet and found the sheets and blankets stacked neatly right where they always used to be and soon had the bed made. She had to leave soon to meet Rube at the Waffle Haus. She might invite him over. Just to see his reaction. And maybe to let him voice what he was really thinking.