Ghost Boy of Mackenzie House (5 page)

Chloe panted her way to the top of the stairs. By the time she reached the edge of the cliff, she was very tired. So tired, in fact, she collapsed on the grass for a minute to catch her breath. The stiff breeze that came in from the water cooled her as much as the earth beneath the thick grass. Between her toes was a great deal of the odd clinging clay that sat in sucking patches near the rocks and she had sand on her feet. She used handfuls of grass to wipe them clean. She found an outdoor faucet in the garden by the shed and used it to rinse the rest off, squealing at the ice-cold water. By the time she made it to the house, she was ready for lunch.

She knew by the quiet that Aunt Larry was gone. She checked the driveway through the kitchen window. Her aunt's hatchback hybrid was missing. Stomach rumbling, she moped to the island, trying to decide what to do. She was capable of making her own lunch, but this was the first time she was alone in the house and she wanted Aunt Larry there. She found a note next to the fruit bowl and did her best to decipher the terrible handwriting.

G
one
to
get
s
ome
g
r
o
c
e
r
i
e
s
and
c
a
t
ch
u
p on
e
r
r
ands.
L
e
f
t
y
ou
l
unch
in
the
m
i
c
r
o
w
a
v
e
i
n
c
a
se
y
o
u
did
n
'
t
go
to
the
Mac
K
e
nz
ie
s
'
(figured
Marsh
would
ask). See
you
this a
f
te
r
no
on. Hope
y
o
u
ha
d
f
u
n
!
Lo
v
e,
Aunt
L

She had drawn a crooked heart in the bottom right-hand corner and filled it in with red pen. It made Chloe smile, dark mood and all. She went to the microwave and investigated. A plate of macaroni and cheese glowed at her. She heated it, poured another glass of milk, and devoured it all so fast it made her think of Marsh.

After lunch, Chloe debated what to do. Now that she was full and rested, she was bored. She sort of regretted not going with Marsh, but on the other hand knew he was part of the reason she was so tired. She again
attempted to get her emails but gave up, leaving the
computer on to do its work. She read a few chapters of Anne of Green Gables, finding herself giggling in places and feeling sorry for the girl in others, but felt restless.
In the late afternoon, she put on socks and sneakers and went outside.

The cliff called to her. She went to the edge again. The water was in all the way, the waves lapping at the shore. It was quieter than the night before, but she could still hear the rush and sigh of it. Chloe started walking, the opposite direction from Marsh's. The wind was softer than it had been that morning, but still pushed her hair into her mouth from time to time. She came to the long, neglected grass as she left the property and was glad she had changed from her flip-flops. The cliff continued in a slight curve for what looked like miles. Lost in the sound of the waves and the smell of the ocean, Chloe kept walking, the tall green stalks slapping against her bare legs as she gathered handfuls of the soft tops to sift through her fingers.

When she encountered an old, rundown barbed-wire fence, she didn't think twice. It was so dilapidated she almost missed it, the toe of her sneaker meeting one of the fallen posts. It saved her from tripping and hurting herself on the wire. She hopped over and continued on.

Chloe paused to watch two sailboats in the distance. To her surprise, there was a big cruise ship out there as well, sailing into Charlottetown Harbour. Aunt Larry had promised Chloe they would go to town soon so she could
look around and do some tourist stuff. Chloe hadn't
cared at the time, but now she was curious. Maybe she
would get a chance to see one of the ships when she
was there.

Chloe was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the shouting until whoever was doing it was almost right behind her. She turned around in surprise to see an old man half-running, half-hobbling toward her. There was a small, once-white single-storey cottage behind him in the distance with a rusty car in the driveway. The man was the centre of her attention, however. He was very tall and slender, wearing dark blue work pants and heavy brown work boots. His shirt was the same colour as his pants, open at the collar, exposing a white T-shirt underneath. His grey hair was thin and longish, waving about him as he came roaring at her. He had a cane in one hand, but rather than using it to support himself, he was waving it at her. When he got close enough, she heard what he was saying.

“You git!” His face was very red, furious. He came to a thundering halt in front of her, panting and swaying, a terrifying figure hunched over her, blotting out the sun. “Git off my land! You're not welcome! I said git!”

Chloe was frozen, mortified, and afraid of the old guy. He waved his cane at her again.

“Trespasser! I'll be calling the cops, make no mistake!”

“But… ” She could feel the blood rushing to her face as she got upset. Who was this guy? How dare he yell at her? Didn't everyone say how nice Islanders were?

“No trespassing!” He shook the cane again. It came very close to her, so close she flinched. “You damned kids, coming on my property, you aren't welcome, you hear?”

Chloe fought tears. No one had ever yelled at her like that before.

“Can't you see the fence?” He was spitting, he was so mad. Chloe looked back over her shoulder. The fence was in better condition as it moved up toward the cottage. Now that she was aware of it, that is.

“I'm sorry.” Chloe took a hesitant step backwards.

He raised his cane menacingly over his head. “Git
before I take this and tan your hide!”

Chloe took one look at the raised cane and ran.

Chloe ran all the way back to the damaged fence, not
looking to see if he followed, hearing him shouting at
her as she ran. She stumbled through the long, once
gentle grass that pulled at her and made her trip and almost fall, tangling around her sneakers and ankles. She did fall, once, trying to get back over the barbed wire, catching one knee and her favourite shorts, tearing them in her need to get away. She hobbled on, even past his property, wanting to get home. She didn't realize she was angry until it rose up in her as sobs. By the time she reached the garden she was choking on furious tears, sweating from effort, ashamed and humiliated by how the man had treated her, and limping from the cut on her knee that left a trail down her shin to stain the top of her sock. She fingered the hole where the rusted wire had ripped her shorts and sobbed harder.

Aunt Larry flew out the back door. Part of Chloe was glad she was home while the other part wanted her to leave her alone.

“Chloe!” Her aunt gripped her shoulders. “What happened, honey?”

She managed to get the story out around her choking sobs. Larry was furious.

“That old crank,” she said. “How dare he? You didn't know, honey. It's not your fault.” Aunt Larry wiped at Chloe's tears. Knowing her aunt was on her side made Chloe feel better. “You just never mind Joseph MacKenzie,” she said. “From what I hear he doesn't like anybody
and nobody likes him, either. Oh, Chloe, I'm sorry. If I had known you were on your own this afternoon I would have warned you about him.” Aunt Larry was
very distressed.

Chloe swiped at her tears, sobs diminished to snuffles and the hiccups.

“I'm okay,” she said. “He's mean.” She hiccupped again.
Aunt Larry hugged her. She smelled like Sophie, and
kind of felt like Patrick, so Chloe let her.

When Aunt Larry let her go, Chloe felt better. And kind of silly for crying over it. She had a flash of the girl she was reading about and wished she was as brave as the red-haired Anne. She wouldn't have let the old man make her feel scared. She would have yelled right back at him. Chloe vowed to herself that would be the last time she'd let the old grump treat her the way he did.

Still, the upside of the whole business was she felt
lighter than she had in two weeks. It was as if the scare had released the tension in her body, the same anxiety she'd been clinging to since the night of the accident, and it was all wiped away by her aunt's hug.

“I got us a movie,” Aunt Larry said. “And stuff to make a pizza. Thought we'd have a night in and relax. Sound good?”

Chloe nodded and hugged Larry on impulse. Her aunt
hugged her back. It was a long moment before Chloe
stepped away.

“Did you get pineapple?” she asked.

Aunt Larry winked.

There was pineapple, Chloe's favourite, and hamburger, and some hot peppers for Larry's side, extra cheese and ham for Chloe's. While she had a shower and changed, Aunt Larry got going on the pizza. When Chloe came back downstairs, Aunt Larry paused in her cooking to examine Chloe's knee from her perch on the island. A little first aid and a Band-Aid later and Chloe was heaping toppings on her side of the pizza. As their creation cooked, Aunt Larry told Chloe about her most recent trip to Africa. Chloe was sad that Aunt Larry wouldn't be able to travel anymore because of her, but her aunt wasn't.

“Plenty of time for us to do some together,” she said.

Chloe liked the sound of that.

The pizza was delicious, the movie funny. Even so, Chloe was going on little sleep and lots of emotion. About halfway through she couldn't help herself. She closed her eyes for a second to rest them and fell asleep.

Chloe woke in the dark curled up on the couch, a faded quilt draped over her and a knit covered pillow making an impression on the side of her face. The deep tolling of bells from the hall outside the living room echoed as the grandfather clock chimed twelve times.

Wanting the comfort of her own bed, Chloe kicked
aside the blanket and padded her way to the stairs. As she mounted the first step, she heard a noise behind her. Startled, Chloe looked around. She didn't see anything or anyone. The sound came again, like someone sighing. It was coming from the entry to the old part of the house, with its creepy stairs. Chloe had no desire to investigate and ran the rest of the way to the second
floor. She paused to do a quick job on her teeth, her eyes scanning the room behind her in the mirror as
she did. The memory of what she had experienced the night before seemed far more real to her now that the house was dark and quiet.

She held her breath when she opened the bathroom door and made a dash for her room, trying to be quiet but hurry at the same time. She got into her pajamas and fell into bed, pulling the covers over her head, flashlight and photo in hand.

Chloe listened for a long time before peeking. She was alone. No sighing, no one sitting on the edge of her bed. She retreated back under the covers and examined the photo of her parents.

“Sorry to be scared,” she whispered to them. “I know it's silly and I imagined stuff last night. Maybe because I want so much to see you.” Tears welled. She wondered how long they would keep coming. “Was it you, Mom?” The thought made her feel better. The idea that Sophie had perhaps come to comfort her lifted her spirits. “That would be cool,” she said. “I wouldn't be scared then.”

Chloe heard the sigh and felt the same pressure next to her. The fear returned, Sophie or no Sophie. But hoping maybe it was her mother after all, Chloe couldn't take the chance. She kept talking.

“Marsh took me to the beach today. It's awesome.
Except for the crabs and jellyfish. He's funny, but I like him. Oh, and there's a mean old man down the road. He's horrible. He yelled at me for being on his property.” Her anger surged back at the thought of Joseph MacKenzie. “Don't know what his problem is, and I don't care.”

The sigh was louder this time. Chloe couldn't reason it away. Someone was there, sitting next to her. Taking her fear in hand, Chloe whipped back the covers, expecting to see her mom.

A softly glowing boy sat next to her, watching her.

Chloe screamed. He looked startled then vanished.
Chloe shoved herself back as far as the headboard would let her and gathered her comforter around her, not even having the courage to turn on her lamp. She shone her flashlight around the room as her heart pounded in her chest. The boy was gone but her fear wasn't. She jumped when she heard feet on her steps and the creak of her door, and almost screamed again. But it was just Aunt Larry, looking sleep-tussled and bleary eyed.

“Chloe?” She came to the bed. Chloe reached for her. Aunt Larry sat and held her for a bit. “Nightmare?”

Chloe shook her head, shivering. “No,” she said.

“What happened?” Aunt Larry was rubbing her back.

Chloe almost told her the truth. Almost. But something held her back. The word “therapist.” Getting a hold on herself, Chloe leaned away.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I thought I saw something,
that's all.”

Aunt Larry was frowning. “Are you sure you're okay?”

Chloe nodded, feeling miserable for lying and wanting to tell someone, but knew that Aunt Larry would worry and think she was seeing things because of her parents dying.

“Yes,” Chloe said, voice still shaky with fright. I'll sleep with a light from now on, she promised herself. That made her feel better, enough that she was able to muster a smile for Aunt Larry.

Her aunt smiled back. “This old house has lots of creaks and bangs and noises, I know. It takes some time to get used to. Did you want me to stay for a while?”

Chloe did, but wouldn't admit it. “I'm okay,” she said.

Aunt Larry went to the door. “If you need anything,
come get me, honey.”

Chloe kept smiling until Aunt Larry closed her door, then dove back under her covers. As an afterthought, she snuck one hand out from under the blankets and turned on her brave little lamp. She lay awake most of the rest of the night with her flashlight growing dimmer and dimmer under her tent.