Chapter Sixteen: Self-Perception and the Perception of Others

Staring back down Green Street, Hell House a foreboding white presence looming near the end of it, Jonah suddenly feels loathe to go back. He hasn't stepped foot off that God-damned property in seventy-something years, and returning to it feels like a literal death sentence. So he doesn't go back. Not immediately, anyway. As he walks further and further, slowly but surely winding his way all the way to downtown Goatswood city square, he considers the possibility of being able to hitchhike all the way to California, or maybe even train hop, just so he never has to go anywhere near that property again.

But after actually seeing downtown, well…he isn't sure about that plan anymore. It looks so insanely different that Jonah wouldn't have recognized it if not for the old church on the corner, its bell tower still standing and still limewashed a pretty blue. The rest of the city square is damn near unrecognizable. The buildings all seem fresh and new, bland looking things built out of cement and metal. The ground is mostly asphalt, thick and black beneath Jonah's feet, painted all over with strange white and yellow lines. Street lamps are still in place but there are a lot of them now, flashing different colors, with separate strange lanterns at every street corner, signaling for people to walk or not. With all these rules in place, did people still hitchhike? Jonah can't imagine going up to one of those huge, sleek new automobiles of today and waiting for the driver to roll the window down before asking for a ride.

It looks like the public transportation is gone now, too. Jonah can still see where the track for the old tram used to be, but can't find the actual tram. That had been his plan to at least get out of town, dash it. He finds the railroad tracks too, and actually sees a train, but it shoots past so fast it almost blurs. It's shocking, how fast everything seems to move now—the only vehicles Jonah has seen—only a handful, considering it's so late in the night, or early in the morning, depending how you look at it—are driving faster than Jonah has ever seen, doing at least double the normal maximum speed of fifteen miles per hour. Plus, Jonah doesn't have actual money.

Undeterred, Jonah enjoys his walk around city square, stopping here and there to marvel at how much things have changed. He'll have to return to Hell House to devise a plan, to get his things in order, but what was a few more days compared to the eternity he faced before? Thinking of it that way makes returning seem less dreadful, and so Jonah starts back. How many hours he has walked, he isn't sure, but as the sun begins to come up over the horizon, he realizes it must have been quite a few.

Rusty greets him, meowing through the screen door. Jonah scoops him up in his arms to give the cat some kisses, Rusty purring and rubbing his whiskers all over his face. The medium is glad now, that he didn't just blindly take off to California by any means necessary. It wouldn't have been fair to the little life in his arms to be trapped in this house, either. Jonah walks with Rusty all the way to the kitchen before plunking the feline down so he can fill its food and water dishes. Jonah decides a planning break is in order, so he goes about making a simple breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toasted bread, humming to himself in the silence of the house as he thinks. Just how, exactly, was he supposed to get all the way to Matthew, now that the spell was successful? While he can at least leave now, he doesn't exactly have the means to go much of anywhere.

Jonah eats his breakfast with Rusty laying on the table, chirping at birds through the blinds. Smiling, Jonah fetches the camera to snap a few pictures of the red-furred feline, showcasing his uneven little fangs with each meow. Jonah's flapping one of the pictures, willing it to develop faster, when he gets a suddenly bright idea. Dropping everything, he bolts over to the paper recycling bin, unemptied in his time re-living in Hell House. There, under a few discarded papers and the cardboard remains of a cereal box, he finds the envelope the camera came in, complete with Wendy Reynolds' name and address written in careful print. Jonah is absolutely thrilled to find Wendy lives very close by, only one state away in Albany, New York.

The National Operator proves to be helpful again, transferring him to the state of New York Operator, who is very courteous and patient with Jonah, looking up the phone number associated with Wendy's address within a few minutes on the line.

As the phone begins to ring, Jonah's stomach positively churns with nerves. He remembers the girl well—dark-headed and slim, with the same brown doe-eyes as Matt. He'd liked her…Jonah had often observed her reading on the back porch, fiction novels by the likes of Oscar Wilde and Jane Austin. She had been well-read and well-spoken for sure, helpful around the house, and had always been nothing but patient with Matthew and the other children, Mary and Billy. Jonah distinctly remembers his last interaction with her, and his nervousness increases tenfold—the fear in her eyes as he'd swung that ax, so close to her head, only to roughly grab her by the arm, hauling her up, desperate for her to see the bodies hiding behind the paneling in the dining room. As he'd pushed her out of the house, urging her not to let them put out the fire, her concern for her cousin had been apparent, holding Mary in one arm, banging on the door with her other clenched fist.

"Hello?" She answers on the third ring, and Jonah freezes, feeling at a loss for words at her distant, business-like tone.

"Hello?" She tries again, almost hanging up.

"Um, hello there, hi, is this Wendy?"

"Uh, yeah? Who is this?"

"I'm sorry to be calling you so out of the blue, you don't really know me, but my name is, er, Jo? Joseph Herrel?"

"Oh," Wendy interrupts. "are you that kid Matt's been living with? His TA?"

"Yes! Yes, that would be me."

Lies, so many lies, you're a liar, Jonah's brain hisses at him.

"How is he doing? I spoke to his dad on the phone the other day, Uncle Peter, he told me Matt's been living with you…is it true you guys are living in Hell House?"

Jonah cringes, feeling like he could disappear into the ether.

"Um, yes, we were living in the house here, together. I don't really know how Matt's doing. We got into a fight about a week ago and he left, I think he's back at the university? In California?"

A pause.

"So, you're still living in that house? Alone?"

"Yeah—"

"What is it like?" Wendy asks, interrupting, "Is it still haunted?"

"No…no, it isn't haunted anymore. There's nothing here."

"Ugh, well. That's a relief, though I'm still not sure why Matt insisted on not only living there again but buying that house…it's just so insane…but you said he's left?"

"Yes ma'am, he's gone, and I was calling because…well, I can't seem to reach him. He's blocked my phone number and the school won't take my calls…to be honest, he was really upset when he left and I'm worried about him. I really desperately want to be able to reach him. I was wondering if there was any way you could maybe help me? Like get a letter to him or something, or help me acquire money for passage? I can pay you back later—"

"Wait, why don't we just visit him?"

"As in…you would give me a ride?"

"Yeah, I can give you a ride. You seriously were begging just now to even get a letter to him, it's obvious you really do care, and I've been meaning to visit him soon anyway. Peter and Sarah, his mom and dad, they're also really worried about him. Getting this call from you really just proves something's up with him. Did he just…leave you there? Without a car, money, anything?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, he left with just some of his clothes." She doesn't even really know the half of it, Jonah thinks, Matthew left knowing I wouldn't be able to leave the house at all.

Wendy's sigh echoes through the receiver, and Jonah feels on edge. Would she really be willing to drive him all the way out to California?

"Well, Matt's awfully good at running from his problems…I just have two questions for you, Jo, if you wouldn't mind answering them?"

"Oh, of course, go ahead?"

"What's your relationship with Matt like, and what was the fight about?"

"Um, ah—sorry, what?" Jonah laughs, but it sounds fake, even to him.

Wendy sighs, a long-suffering, bemused sort of sound.

"Matt's never been that good with relationships. You know he's only been in like, two, ever? And they never lasted long, and they had this same outcome—Matt running off into the night with the clothes on his back, leaving his partner high and dry. He usually did this without even communicating to them first that he was unhappy…you must be special, for the two of you to even have a fight."

Jonah's face burns, and his hands shake slightly. He tries his best to keep his voice steady, but he's definitely not successful.

"We, ah…aren't, in a relationship…at least, not yet, I guess…"

Jonah might as well sell her his fucking soul, if she's willing to drive him to California.

"And that was what the fight was about?"

"Well, essentially…"

Wendy just sighs again. There's a crackling sound, as if she put her hand to the receiver or something.

"And you're wanting to go to him and achieve what, exactly? You want to get back together with him?"

"Yes, for goodness' sake. As I said, I'd do anything, I just—I just want him back home—"

Jonah's voice cracks around the grief rising in his chest, the tears burning behind his eyes.

"Oh, listen, honey," honey, must've been a common term of endearment in the Campbell household, "I'm not trying to pry too much, I'm just a little shocked, is all. At the very least, you're the only partner he's ever had that's chased after him. I just want to make sure your intentions for him are good, and honestly, I can't help but wonder how Matt would feel about it."

"I…I understand. You're a good cousin, and friend, to watch out for him…I promise I mean only well. If we get there, and Matthew doesn't want to talk to me, I'll leave it alone, okay? I just want to apologize to him, and explain myself. I don't want to hurt him, I promise."

Wendy sighs again, but concedes.

"Alright. Alright, fine. I've been meaning to visit him anyway, and I might as well take you along. Worst case scenario, I accidentally bring an ex he doesn't want to see. Best case, we show up, Matt gets his head out of his ass and realizes he's found someone that's gonna stay with him this time, even if he is, well…flighty."

"I can be there sometime tonight. It's about a three hour drive, but I can't leave till the kids get home from school. That's another thing, too…would you be okay if I bring my kids? They won't be with us the whole trip, but I don't have anyone to watch them while we're gone. I'll have to stop by my aunt and uncle's house in Ohio, so they can watch them. It's on the way. Will that be a problem?"

"No, no, that won't be a problem at all," Jonah reassures, but the thought of seeing Peter again, as well as Sarah, makes him nauseous in all sorts of different ways.

"Alright then, mysterious boyfriend of Matt. We'll be there around eight or nine-ish tonight."

"Okay," Jonah replies, smiling despite his butterflies. He just has to pretend to be a normal person, Joseph Herrel, for a few days before he can be reunited with Matthew, "I'll have dinner waiting."

Jonah has about twelve hours before Wendy arrives, kids in tow. Considering the late time of their arrival, Jonah assumes they'll be staying the night in Hell House and leaving the next morning. He spends most of his day cleaning, in preparation. There's lots of empty liquor bottles around the house that Jonah has to clean up and hide in the back shed. There's also the matter of the noose laying on the floor of the upstairs landing, which Jonah unceremoniously burns up in the crematory downstairs. That was fun, getting the old thing up and running again, watching the flames crackle inside. Smoke rising from the chimney of Hell House for the first time in decades, Jonah wonders if it helps clear out any spare fragments of spirits and energy that may cling to the inside of the old brick. He shuts and locks the mortuary after, as well as the basement door, just in case. He certainly does not need Wendy, or her children, wandering around in the basement of Hell House.

Jonah changes the bedding in Matt's room, making sure the room is immaculate, considering it will most likely be where Wendy will be sleeping. He also cleans his room, and changes his bedding, even if it's hardly been used. The kids may be sleeping in there. For himself, he drapes the crochet blanket on the back of the couch in the living room. It'll do, no doubt. He dusts everything, sweeps and mops all the old hardwood floors, cleans the insides and outsides of all the windows. He completes these chores in his overalls and an undershirt, a handkerchief tied around his brow, fueled by a sense of insane, manic energy. He'd be seeing Matthew soon, if only he can get through hosting. If only he can get through pretending to be someone else.

Around noon, Jonah puts on the victrola and starts making bread dough. Enough for two loaves, more than enough for two adults and two children. He puts on a stew, puts a pork loin in the fridge to marinate. In another sudden burst of energy and nerves, Jonah whips up a batch of some two dozen jam cookies. What Jonah lacks in interpersonal relationships and charm, he can make up for in his cooking. Wendy and her children could leave here thinking they stayed in a creepy old house with an even creepier teenager, but Jonah will be damned if they don't at least leave feeling satisfied and well-tended to.

Cleaning done, and the majority of the cooking finished or at least started, Jonah despairs to find it's only around two in the afternoon. In only five hours, he cleaned the house from top to bottom and got enough food started to easily feed a family of eight. It's absolutely tragic, how slowly time moves when one has something to do, somewhere to go, a goal in mind. Even packing his things only takes all of fifteen minutes—it's not much, after all. Three changes of clothing that are the most potentially modern-passing clothing he owns, along with drawers (nothing to be done about how old fashioned those look, but at least no one will see them, right?), undershirts, toiletries, and a spare change of shoes, just in case.

Jonah frets, surveying the clothes he's selected. It's just an awful lot of wool, for this day and age. After a moment of consideration, he goes to Matthew's room to root through what clothes the occultist left behind. It isn't much, at all, and all of Matt's clothes hang off of the teen. All Jonah is able to salvage is a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants he can pass as pajamas, too comically large to look like his own clothes. But, they'll certainly be more 'normal' than an ankle-length shift to sleep in.

Jonah packs up half of the jam cookies when they're done baking into a pretty porcelain container, and walks over to the Duvall house. Their garden sure is pretty, and a rather ugly-looking dog is dozing on the porch when Jonah approaches. It's a flat-faced thing, all wrinkles and snot, but it's friendly, and doesn't bark, which Jonah is grateful for. He only has to wait a few minutes after knocking before Angela answers.

"Hey there, Jo! I'm so glad to see you, we were worried you'd never come over! Come on in! Granny is in the living room, just down the haul to the left."

Jonah nods and thanks her for her kindness, stating that he's happy to see her, and goes off to find Shannon, sitting in a rocking chair by a window, knitting what looks to be a scarf. She's in that same floral house dress again, hands moving automatically as she watches something on a television. It isn't a game, but a show of some kind, a woman with unnaturally white-blond hair and pink lips displaying products on a little velvet table to an audience of people.

"Why, if it isn't the Aickman boy, as I live and breathe. So good to see you out of that damned house."

"Happy to be out, ma'am. I brought you cookies."

He lifts the lid, holding the container at a half-crouch, so the elderly lady can look inside. She inspects them with those hard, intelligent eyes, nodding to herself. She takes one of the peach ones, emitting a small mhm of approval after her first bite.

"These are nice, child. What brings you here, today? Get comfortable, first, can we get you anything?"

Jonah shakes his head but sits for her, on a rather uncomfortable floral-patterned couch.

"Well, first of all, I wanted to thank you and Angie for caring for me lately. I really appreciate your visits, and I owe you at least something. The monstera, by the way, is flourishing. It really is a beautiful plant."

The old woman simply vocalizes her approval, nodding her approval with a small smirk on her withered old face.

"And? That can't be all."

"Grandma!" Angie admonishes, coming in with a glass of sweet tea for Jonah, uncaring of his insistence that he's fine, really, "Can't the kid just come over?"

"Well, um, Angela…your grandmother has a point. While I am thankful for all the two of you have done already, I do have a favor to ask. I'm about to leave for a long trip, and I was wondering if Angie would potentially be able to watch the house for me? Someone needs to tend to the monstera, and I, uh…have a cat now. His name is Rusty, and he needs someone to feed him and change his litter while I'm gone."

"That shouldn't be a problem at all," the old woman answers for her granddaughter, who shoots the elderly woman a look.

"Well, yeah, Jo, I don't mind going over to watch your cat. How long will you be gone?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure," Jonah replies, "I would say at the very least, around five days or so? Apparently the drive to California will take a few days, and I will be there for at least a day, as well. I'm unsure."

"One should only hope you'd be in California for more than a day," the old woman sniffs, considering Jonah over her glasses, "if you're running off all the way to the other side of the country to beg your man back, the least that man can do is let you stay a few days before traveling again."

"Granny!" Angie andmonishes, again, turning pink in the face, "You don't even know why Jonah's going there!"

Jonah. So even Angie has figured it out. It's a dilemma, but considering the press hasn't turned up even once, it seems the two women are keen on keeping Jonah's secret.

Red in the face, Jonah simply nods, confirming the older woman's statement.

"Well, that is why I'm going. I'm going to try to get Matthew to come back."

"Oh!" Angie replies, her smile a nervous, silly little grin, "that's so, uh, sweet! I hope it works out for you, I really do."

"As do I," Shannon chimes in, "it's abhorrent how he up and left you all alone in that house."

"Well, um, thank you, ladies," Jonah replies, weakly, "I appreciate your well wishes. I'll be sure to call you and let you know how it goes, and when I'll be returning."

After explanations of the house, and the location of the cat food inside, the two women see him off, Shannon going through the trouble of tottering out to the front porch to wave him goodbye.

"What do you think is even going to happen, grandma? Do you think he's gonna be back? And with that man in tow?"

Shannon simply nods, and smiles.

"Oh," she says, "I imagine once that Matthew boy sees his lover right there in the flesh, so many miles removed from all that cursed land, he'll have no choice but to admit his fault and come back with the child. I have a feeling that being together in the first place only came through Hell and high water. He owes that boy his life, at least. Those two belong together"

Terribly confused by her grandmother's words, Angie follows her back into the house, after one last fleeting glance at Jonah's retreating form, looking like some kind of farming dandy in those weird clothes. She considers those words again, tracing the pattern on the porcelain casserole dish the kid brought over, overflowing with three kinds of jam cookies, the best she's ever had. An orange koi fish, in teal water, affected by little painted etches and ridges of water. An old and priceless antique, filled with cookies and left with glorified strangers.

Through Hell and high water. He'll have no choice. He owes that boy his life…those two belong together.

Jonah's nearly dozing at the kitchen table, finally more than a little worn out from cooking. About an hour ago, around eight, he put on coffee, expecting Wendy's arrival any moment. But as the minutes drug on, he'd poured himself a cup, and sat down. The tiredness had hit him then, the exhaustion of preparing for the rest of his life in less than a day. He hasn't slept since night before last, considering last night was spent doing some major spellwork and literally running himself breathless and ragged across Goatswood.

He's just about asleep, head lolling on a crooked arm, when the sound of a car door closing outside startles the life right back into him. His coffee sloshes, and his hands shake as he sops the mess up. Gods, he literally can't even remember the last time he was this nervous. Matthew doesn't count at all, as his mere presence makes this fucked-up house a home, and strangers were, well…strangers. He can act and pretend for strangers. But Wendy? With her Campbell eyes and history with this house? With him? Jonah can only hope and pray this goes well.

To say this house still gives her the willies is the fucking understatement of the century. The second she'd turned onto Green Street, Wendy could spot the white-sided, two story colonial that is Hell House all the way from down the street. And as it came closer, foreboding with its wide windows and sprawling shade trees, Wendy grew more and more nauseous. As she pulls up in front of the house, puts the car into park, and steps out onto the street, she's worried she may actually vomit before she can make it onto the porch.

"Wow, this house is old," her oldest, Otto, states, as Wendy helps her youngest, Milo, wrestle her backpack out of the backseat.

"Yup it is! Built back in the 1800s, I think," Wendy replies, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of her voice and hands.

"Wow. That's like…a few hundred years, right mom?"

Wendy is just about to tell him that yes, it's right at around two-hundred years old, when she hears the screen door of the house bang open and shut. She whirls around in time to see a black-headed boy come out of the house, heading towards them at a light jog. He can't be older than nineteen at the very fucking most, she thinks. Peter really wasn't kidding when he'd said Matt had, quote, 'snagged a young one'. The kid looks odd, too, wearing a long-sleeved, collared dress shirt and slacks, in June, for Christ's sake. Overtop of it all is an apron, white and blue pinstripes speckled with flour, oddly domestic and unsettling all at once.

"Hi there!" Her sweet little Milo hollers out across the lawn, never one to know a stranger.

"Hi!" the kid hollers back at her, raising a hand in a wave. As he comes closer, Wendy's feeling of apprehension skyrockets. Even five feet away, the stark, luminescent aqua of his eyes is apparent. Paired with his straight black hair, bangs falling accross a pale, cherubic face, there's absolutely no mistaking this time traveling apparition.

"Hi! I'm so glad you made it just fine, I really am just so grateful, Wendy, that you'd come to save me," Jonah fucking Aickman says to her. Wendy, speechless, can only watch in horror, her arm coming up outstretched, late to grab her child, as Milo runs up to the ghost and literally hugs his leg, bunching her chubby little baby fists in the necromancer's brown wool trousers.

"Well, um, hi there, little one," Jonah says, his haunting face splitting into a smile so bright, it crinkles those awful eyes, "what might your name be?"

He's crouched down to properly greet Milo. Milo seems entranced with him, all giggles and laughs. Wendy finally comes back to her senses, spurred into action by the image of that boy so close to her daughter. She snatches Milo back over to her by the girl's arm, and Jonah's smile falls, looking up at Wendy with a torn expression, as if wounded.

"Her name is Milo," Wendy brusquely answers, "and this one's Otto, my son."

Jonah shakes her son's hand, Otto commenting on how 'cool' his house is, and Wendy is seriously considering packing herself and her children right back into the car and getting right the fuck out of there.

But then Milo wriggles free of her grasp and runs right back over to Jonah, reaching up with grabby hands, and Jonah does, he gives in, hefting the little girl up by the armpits and settling her on his hip like it's the most natural thing in the world, like he and the child have known each other for years.

"Your eyes are SO pretty, and I like your shirt!" the little girl gushes, and the medium smiles again, brushing a lock of her brunette hair behind a tiny pierced ear.

"Why thank you, dear one. Your eyes are pretty too," that damned gaze, so piercing and pale, catches Wendy's eyes, and something gives her pause, makes her hesitate, "they're just the same color as your mama's. Such a lovely doe-brown. Your Uncle Matt has the same eyes too."

"Mine are the same color too!" Otto chimes in, seemingly annoyed at the amount of attention his sister is receiving.

"Hmm, let me see," Jonah replies, head tilted down to look at Otto, rubbing his chin as if considering, "ah, why yes! I do believe you're right. Well, your mother can't deny the two of you, that's for sure."

Jonah sets the little girl down, both children standing in front of the dead boy, looking up at him with such innocent expressions of interest it makes Wendy wonder. Otto is a smart boy, quick to tell if someone is suspicious from their vibes alone. He learned his suspicion of others at a young age, because of his father, much to Wendy's regret. To have Otto so interested in someone, seeking a stranger's attention…it's very, very strange. And if Matt's been living with this doppleganger for the whole summer…maybe the kid isn't that evil? Maybe? Regardless, it's almost nine o'clock at night, and she and the kids are worn out…it's not as if Jonah will harm them during their stay, and according to both him, Matt, and Peter, Hell House is ghost-free for the first time in over a century. Well, ghost-free besides Jonah.

"I bet I can guess both of your favorite colors…it's like a magic trick, or talent of mine," Jonah tells the children, pitching his voice low as if telling them a secret. It works, both kids leaning in.

"Ms. Milo, your favorite color is yellow, and Mr. Otto here….hmm…I would venture to say your favorite color is purple. How close did I get?"

Wendy listens to her children's exclamations of shock, slightly impressed. He had been a medium, in his past life. Looks like he still is.

"What are you, are you clair-voy-ant?" Otto asks, and Jonah just laughs.

"Just lucky guesses, dears—"

"So, Jonah Aickman. You have a lot to explain to me, and depending on your answers, I'm taking my kids right back home and leaving you to rot," Wendy interrupts, her children's faces started by her sudden velocity. Anger, an emotion they don't witness from their mother often.