Rattling bone, p.2
Rattling Bone, page 2
“What was I supposed to tell you, that you would have understood at that age?” Dad shook his head angrily. “After they took your mamaw away, I saw her twelve times a year. Your papaw and I drove all the way to the asylum and back on the last weekend of every month, from the time I was eleven until I was eighteen and she died. It might’ve been called the state hospital, but it was mostly a warehouse, with too many patients and not enough space. I still remember how it smelled.”
He turned away, bracing himself on the workbench. “I don’t know what kind of medication she was on, but she’d just sit there, trembling and shaking. Not even looking at us. Your papaw would talk and talk, catching her up on things, but I don’t think she ever heard a word.” His head bowed. “I hate to say it, but it was a mercy when she died.”
Silence fell between them, broken by the hiss of the water heater in the corner kicking on. Oscar wasn’t sure what to say, except, “I’m sorry, Dad.”
Dad raised his head but didn’t turn around. “I couldn’t let the same thing happen to you. I wouldn’t. So I did the best I knew, and maybe you want to throw all that away now. That’s your choice. But I don’t want to hear about it, understand?”
Oscar’s heart sank, but what could he do? “I understand.”
“Are y’all still awake?” Lisa called softly.
Scott had stayed down in the basement, but Oscar had returned. He hadn’t said much, only that his father had requested they not say anything else about ghosts during their stay.
Nigel had hoped to get him alone to talk, but there hadn’t been a chance. Lisa took out some old photo albums and treated them to pictures of Oscar from infancy to college graduation, thoroughly embarrassing Oscar in the process. After, she’d cajoled Oscar into opening presents, even without Scott. Oscar got a sweater in Clemson’s orange and white colors. Nigel received one in Duke’s blue and white, presumably as a nod to his place of employment. Tina and Chris both got Christmas scented candles, since “I didn’t know what y’all might like.”
Deeply embarrassed, Nigel apologized for not having brought a gift, but Lisa just laughed it off. “You’re our guest, honey; don’t worry about it.”
Then it was time for bed. Oscar’s old room had a single bed, which he offered to Tina, since she’d been having back problems lately. Nigel, Oscar, and Chris decamped to the den, which had a fold-out couch and an air mattress already prepared for them. Chris took the air mattress, leaving the fold-out for Nigel and Oscar.
They’d only had time to put on their pajamas and brush their teeth, when Lisa appeared at the door. She wore a thick woolen robe over her pajamas and a pair of fluffy slippers, and held something in one hand.
“Yes.” It was incredibly awkward to talk to the woman while tucked into bed beside her son, so Nigel quickly got up. He’d forgotten to bring any slippers, but the thick woolen socks Oscar had given him kept his toes warm.
Oscar lowered his phone, where he’d been checking OutFoxing the Paranormal’s social media channels. “What’s up, Mom?”
“Listen, I know things haven’t been easy with your dad.” She glanced up at the second floor, presumably in the direction of the master bedroom. “I had a word with him about being so rude to our guests.”
“It’s all right,” Chris said, but she shook her head.
“It’s not how he was raised—how either of us were—and he knows it. He ought to be down here right now, hanging his head in shame. But he’s a stubborn man sometimes.” She looked at Oscar. “We argued a lot when you were growing up. What happened to your mamaw scared him, but…well, it doesn’t matter now. You’re grown up, and I think you have a to right to know about her, if that’s what you want.”
Oscar’s lips parted in surprise. “Yes, please. Anything you can tell me—I know she died before you ever met Dad, but anything you know about her would help.”
“I honestly don’t know any more than you do.” Lisa crossed the room and held something out to Oscar. “But maybe this can help you find out more.”
The light from the single lamp gleamed off something silver in her palm. A key.
Nigel’s heartbeat quickened, and he glanced at Oscar. Oscar stared at the key as if mesmerized. “What does it open?”
“When your papaw died, Scott moved a bunch of his stuff into a self-storage unit here in Marrow. He kept saying he would go through it when he had the time, but he never did.” She snorted. “That’s what keeps those places in business, you know—everyone thinks they’re going to have more time to do things in the future, but the future keeps turning into the present.”
“True enough,” Nigel said. “Do you think some of…I don’t know her name, actually.”
“Her name was Barbara,” Lisa said. “And I don’t know if anything she owned is in there, but Richard, Oscar’s papaw, wasn’t the sort of man to throw things away willy-nilly. There are probably things in there that he meant to deal with one day and never got around to.”
“Right.” Oscar reached out and took the key from her. “Thanks, Mom.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Just don’t tell your daddy.”
Oscar woke up all at once, a sudden, sharp transition between sleep and awareness. The den was in shadow, the only light leaking in through the blinds from the streetlight in the yard. Nigel curled beside him on the lumpy mattress of the fold-out, his breathing deep and regular. A turn of his head showed Chris unmoving in a pile of blankets on the air mattress.
So what had woke him up?
He turned his head the other way, looking past Nigel and toward the door. He sensed a presence there, and for a moment, he thought Mom might have come back.
Whoever was there took a step into the room. But the old floor didn’t creak under their weight, and there was no accompanying rustle of cloth.
A sudden memory gripped him of opening his eyes in his bedroom as a kid and seeing a woman standing near the foot of the bed, looking at him. That same presence was here, now.
He sat up slowly. “Who are you?” he asked in a low voice. “Do you need my help?”
Even though no light touched the figure, it seemed to briefly solidify into the woman. Her features were indistinct, but he could make out dark hair hanging over a pale gown. The cold air grew even colder, as though the room had turned into a freezer. Her lips parted, moved, but he could hear no words.
Then she turned back to the door, took a step, and vanished.
CHAPTER
THREE
“And she was just staring at you while everyone was asleep?” Tina asked, as Oscar drove them down the mountain and into Marrow proper. “Do you think she came in and looked at me, too?” She shuddered.
“You could have woken us up, boss,” Chris added.
“There wasn’t time to wake anyone up,” Oscar said. “Besides, I didn’t want to scare her away.”
“Did you sense anything from her?” Nigel asked.
Oscar considered for a moment. “Not really? It almost felt like she was just checking in on us.”
“That makes sense, if she realized you’d come back after a long absence. Especially since you weren’t in your normal bed.”
“I wish we’d been able to put up some of our instruments,” Tina said. “Maybe we would have caught more on a thermal cam.”
“Yeah, well.” Oscar grimaced. “Doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.”
Nigel didn’t say anything, but his skin crawled at the thought of a spirit wandering into the room while they slept. Would she repeat the performance tonight? If they tried to put a line of salt across the doorway to keep her out, Scott would probably throw them out of the house.
It was going almost noon the next day. Lisa had cooked them a hearty breakfast, and things around the table seemed almost normal. All conversation had steered well away from the topic of ghosts, and when Scott asked what their plans were, Oscar perked up and said he was going to show them his old stomping grounds.
It didn’t take long to see that time had left Marrow behind. The newest houses were from the 1950s, judging by the architecture, and for every open storefront there were two closed ones. The whole town seemed to cluster around just a few streets, hemmed in between the mountain on one side and the river on the other. According to the internet search Nigel had done before they came, only about 800 people lived here, and the population was dwindling with every passing year.
Oscar slowed the van. “Okay, there’s the diner.”
“We’re actually stopping?” Nigel said, surprised. “I thought showing us the ‘old-stomping grounds’ was just an excuse to go to the storage facility.”
Oscar’s face fell. “I mean, we’ll do that, but…I don’t know, I thought you’d be interested. We don’t have to.”
Nigel cursed himself. Oscar was his boyfriend, of course he wanted to share his history with Nigel. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound that way.”
“Smooth, doc,” Chris said, leaning forward. “Real smooth.”
Tina smacked them on the arm. “Oh, hush. Show us the great metropolis of Marrow, Oscar.”
Oscar finished parking the van. “We’ll pass the high school on the way out to the storage place. Downtown here is where I’d hang out with my friends, when I could get a ride, anyway.”
“Downtown” was a bit of an overstatement for three or four blocks of old brick buildings from the Victorian era. At least half of them were empty, the rest occupied by antique stores, a hardware store, the diner, and a number of small offices. There were only a few other people on the street, most of them heading for either the diner or the antiques.
Even so, they’d only made it a few steps before someone called “Oscar? Oscar Fox?”
Oscar turned, a grin already on his face. “That’s me!”
The middle-aged man who’d approached looked delighted. “I watched all your games! You could’ve gone pro!”
“Thanks; I appreciate that.”
The man rooted around in his pocket for a minute before digging out a crumpled receipt. “Could you sign this for me?”
Nigel watched, feeling vaguely startled, as Oscar took out a pen and graciously signed, while the man rambled on about games and sacks. Yes, college football was big in the south—hell, depending on where you were, high school games were followed just as closely—but he’d never really had an interest. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that other people wouldn’t be as indifferent.
Once the man had gone on his way, Chris said, “So, are we your entourage, or…?”
“I didn’t realize I was dating the hometown hero,” Nigel added.
Oscar actually blushed. “No,” he told Chris, and “I’m not the hometown hero.”
The diner put a lie to his words. As soon as they stepped in, Nigel spotted an orange Clemson jersey with FOX on the back, hanging on the wall alongside a signed photograph of a man—presumably Oscar, though it was impossible to tell under the helmet—crashing into another player on a field.
The young woman behind the counter perked up when they came in. “Good afternoon, y’all! Have you been in before?”
“I have, but not for a long time,” Oscar answered with a smile. “Are the pepperoni rolls still as good as they used to be?”
A man stuck his head out from the kitchen behind the counter. “Too good for the likes of you, Mr. Big City!”
Oscar’s entire face lit up. “Josh!”
The man looked to be around their age, with short blond hair and a husky build. He came around the counter and swept Oscar into a bear hug, pounding him enthusiastically on the back. “Your dad mentioned you’d be coming into town. It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too, Josh.” Oscar pulled back and grinned, but didn’t entirely let go.
A little flame of jealousy flickered in Nigel’s chest, and he cleared his throat loudly.
Josh jumped back a bit, as if he’d forgotten they had an audience. “Oscar, you remember my niece, Kayla?” he asked, gesturing to the counter.
“Not little Kayla!” Oscar exclaimed. “You were in braces the last time I saw you.”
Kayla offered him the smile of someone trying to be polite, but not really interested in her uncle’s old friends.
Oscar turned back to Josh. “These are my friends,” he said, and went on to introduce them. Nigel felt a further flash of irritation that Oscar hadn’t singled him out as a boyfriend. “And this is Josh Rizzo. We went to school together from kindergarten on.”
“And played football together, even though I was never meant for the big leagues. Not like this guy here,” Josh added with a trace of pride on Oscar’s behalf. “Your lunch is on the house, by the way.”
“No, it’s all right,” Oscar started, but was interrupted by Josh shaking his head.
“Your money’s no good here. Y’all want pepperoni rolls? Fries? Look at the menu and take your time. I’ll head to the kitchen, but I’ll be back out to catch up, don’t you worry.”
Josh herded them to the counter, then went back to the kitchen. Apparently, despite their huge breakfast, they were now eating lunch.
Staring up at the chalkboard menu on the back wall, Chris said, “Pepperoni rolls?”
“Bread stuffed with pepperoni,” Oscar explained. “It was popular with coal miners back in the day—no refrigeration needed, tasty even when at room temperature, and hand-held.”
“I see,” Nigel said. “And Josh…?”
“His family owns this place,” Oscar said with a sweep of the arm, indicating the old brick walls, the squeaky wooden floor. “Best pepperoni rolls in town.”
Nigel suspected they were the only pepperoni rolls in town but kept the remark to himself. They all ended up ordering the rolls, along with a pitcher of sweet tea and a basket of fries, then retreated to a table. A few other people came in, but it was clear the diner wasn’t going to do a lot of business today. Because everyone was still at home, eating leftovers from Christmas dinner, or because the town was slowly dying?
Kayla brought their orders. Chris picked up a fry and popped it in their mouth. “Your friend seems nice.”
“Josh? Oh yeah.” A goofy grin touched Oscar’s lips. “We used to be inseparable. The trouble we got into as kids…”
“Ooh, spill,” Tina said with a wicked grin.
Nigel took a cautious bite of his pepperoni roll. The oils from the sausage had soaked into the bread, flavoring it perfectly.
To his surprise, Oscar blushed lightly at Tina’s prodding. “Oh, well, not much, you know. Driving too fast on the mountain roads, underage drinking, skinny dipping at the old quarry…”
Tina gasped and grabbed at non-existent pearls. Oscar threw a fry at her.
About halfway through the meal, Josh came back out and joined them at the table, sitting between Oscar and Nigel. “Not many folks out and about today, I guess,” he said lightly. “But the diner’s loss is my gain.”
They immediately became absorbed in conversation about places Nigel didn’t know and people he’d never heard of. Which was to be expected. They’d been friends. Friends who skinny dipped together.
Friends who were looking at each other as if there had been something more between them.
No, no, he was projecting. Nigel wasn’t exactly the best when it came to social situations; probably his perceptions were off.
The bell above the door jingled as another group came in. “We should be going,” Nigel said. “You probably have to get back to work.”
“Yeah.” Josh sighed. “It was good to meet y’all.” He stood up, then turned back to Oscar. “Is there an evening you’ll be free? Maybe we can meet up somewhere, talk about old times?”
“I’m not sure,” Oscar replied. “We’re sort of playing it by ear.”
“Let me give you my number, just so you have it.”
Once they were back in the van, Nigel said, “Old flame?”
“No,” Oscar started, then caught himself. “Not exactly? We fooled around some in high school, you know how it is.”
“Not having been a popular football star, I don’t know how it is,” Nigel said, managing to keep most of the sharpness from his tone.
Annoyingly, Oscar laughed. “It was high school, you dork.” He leaned across the console and kissed Nigel on the side of the head.
Nigel knew he was being unreasonable. Still. “We should go to the storage unit, before your parents start wondering what’s taking us so long.”
That sobered Oscar up fast. His laughter faded, and he cranked the ignition. “Right. Let’s go see if there’s anything left of Mamaw Fox for us to find.”
The self-storage business lay on the outskirts of Marrow and was among the few examples of new construction to have happened since Oscar had left for college. The lot had been a farmer’s field back then, already abandoned and going back to nature. Now rows of gleaming units sat atop black asphalt, holding whatever excess stuff the residents of Marrow couldn’t—or didn’t want—to keep at home.
“I’m surprised to see a place like this in such a…small town,” Nigel remarked as he turned in.
Oscar cast him a glance. It had been good to see Josh again—and borderline hilarious to discover Nigel seemed to be jealous of him.
“You can say ‘dying.’” Oscar slowed, scanning the numbers on the buildings. “Kids move away, leave all their junk behind with the promise of coming back someday to get it, and it ends up in storage. Businesses go under, and the furniture gets put away and never taken back out. The old folks die, and no one wants to just throw everything out, so here it ends.”
Like with Papaw Fox. If he’d realized Dad was renting a unit to store things, he’d have offered to come home and help sort through it. Though, depending on what was in there, Dad might have refused the offer.
He pulled up in front of the unit: number 306. Instead of getting out of the van, though, he found himself staring at the blank metal door.
Should he be doing this? Mom had given him the key, but that didn’t mean he had to use it.
