The Ghosts of our Past
2/19/2023
***Disclaimer: This story was inspired by a prompt provided by Reedsy.com. Prompt is provided below. Visit their site https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/ to learn more.***
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***I removed the song lyrics that were in the original, but I was also inspired by the Lord Huron song “The Night We Met” when writing this story***
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Prompt: You go to visit your neighbor. When you ring the doorbell, a stranger appears and tells you that your neighbor has been dead for ten years.
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A faint knock on the door made Julie jump. She was not expecting anyone. She just moved to a new house in a town where she knew absolutely no one, at least not anymore. Julie silently crept to the front door and looked through the peephole. There was an elderly woman standing on the porch, tiny and distorted through the fisheye lens, illuminated by the dim porch light. Just a little old lady, Julie thought to herself, relaxing slightly and letting out a quiet sigh of relief as she unfastened the door latch, unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.
The elderly woman on the porch was short in stature, half a head shorter than Julie. She wore large bifocals, a faded blue sweatshirt with matching sweatpants, and white orthopedic shoes. Her hair was white as snow, short and curly in the style of a perm. The woman leaned on an old wooden cane, her long red fingernails visible as she rested her hands, one on top of the other, on the cane’s handle.
“Hello, young lady,” the older woman said in a sweet frail tone. “I hope I didn’t startle you. I’m Edith. I just happened to notice that you were new in the neighborhood and I wanted to be the first to introduce myself. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a light on at this old place, back when the previous owners lived here.” She smiled, all gums and squinty eyes as she gave a firm but friendly nod.
“Hi Edith, it’s very nice to meet you,” Julie said as she held out her hand in greeting. Edith didn’t acknowledge the gesture; she just continued to smile and stand there holding her cane. After a lengthy pause, Julie lowered her hand awkwardly before she spoke.
“I, er…I appreciate you stopping by. I don’t know anyone here and it’s nice to know that there’s some friendly people in the neighborhood,” Julie smiled sheepishly. “I used to think of this place as my second home growing up. My grandfather lived here before. Did you know him?”
“Oh!” Edith exclaimed, letting out a sweet laugh. “You’re Norman’s granddaughter? Well look at you, all grown up. I knew of your grandfather. He was a really nice man.”
“Wow, small world,” Julie smiled as she pictured her grandfather exchanging pleasantries with Edith on his way out the door for a morning walk. Norman never met a stranger anywhere he went. After Julie’s grandmother died, he was pretty lonely. It was nice to know that he found companionship with a sweet woman next door. Julie recalled memories long past, spending countless summer days at this house, wasting the hours talking and laughing with her grandfather. She remembered going on walks down the street and how he would stop and greet everyone he met. Maybe Julie had met Edith before, a long time ago, and never even realized it. A distant memory of an elderly woman smiling and giving Julie a fresh batch of cookies flitted across her mind, but just as quickly faded away again.
Edith looked past Julie through the cracked front door, taking note of all the boxes that had yet to be unpacked.
“Well, it looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” she said politely. “I’m sorry I can’t help with the heavy lifting, but if you ever want a cup of coffee and some company you’re more than welcome to stop by.” Edith gestured to the house across the street and added, “That’s me over there. I’m always home so just stop by and ring the doorbell.”
“That’s very sweet of you. Thank you so much. I might take you up on that offer once I get settled in,” Julie replied with gratitude.
Edith straightened up, tapping her cane on the porch lightly as she carefully made her way down the porch steps.
“Well, bye for now sugar,” she called over her shoulder as she hobbled off down the sidewalk.
Julie watched Edith cross the street, waiting to ensure she made it back to her house safely before she closed and locked the door behind her. As she went through her stacks of boxes, Julie found herself thinking about the house across the street where Edith said she lived. Julie recalled that the house was abandoned the last time she was here, just over three years ago. She supposed that the old woman could have been living there at the time, but she felt a pang of sadness wash over her as she pictured Edith living in a run down house all alone. Julie was sure that she could use some company. As she continued to unpack, Julie considered Edith’s offer.
—
It had been a week since Julie moved into her new home in the rural town of Josephine, Texas. This was the town where she grew up. Julie was never very close to her parents, and spent most of her childhood at her grandparent’s house. Her grandmother died when she was young, so for the most part it was just Julie and her grandfather. When he passed three springs ago, Julie inherited the old home per Norman’s wishes instated in his will, along with a hefty sum that was enough to keep her going until she wrote and published her next book. Julie was haunted by the old house after her grandfather died; after she came home for the funeral she swore that she would never return. Three years passed and Julie was growing tired of life in the city. There was no one there to make it feel like home, and nothing really keeping her there since she was able to write anywhere. So she figured now was just as good a time as any to move to a place that was far removed from the hustle and bustle of the city, where she could take advantage of the isolation and solitude to hone her craft. It had been a long time since she had been home. She didn’t realize how much she missed the peace and quiet until she returned. Julie was glad to be back in her hometown after so long, in the home that she practically grew up in. It brought her more comfort than she realized, being back in a familiar place where so many memories resided. Julie decided that the walls were no longer haunted by the absence of her grandfather, and she vowed to make it a home that he would be proud of if he were still there.
—
As Julie finished rinsing the dishes, she looked out the kitchen window across the street. Now that she was officially moved in, she thought it might be a good time to pay Edith a visit. Drying her hands and turning the dishwasher on, Julie made her way to the front door, grabbing her purse and keys on the way out.
Edith’s house was beautifully quaint. It was vibrantly painted in canary yellow with sky blue accents on the shutters and the front door. It seemed as if the house had been renovated since the last time Julie saw it. It was lovely, and appeared brand new. Julie couldn’t help but think that the color scheme matched Edith’s bright personality as she bounded up the steps and rang the doorbell. She was about to ring it a second time when Edith finally answered the door, smiling warmly when she realized who her mystery visitor was.
“Well hello, dear,” Edith said in her small sweet voice, “Please come in.” Edith opened the door and stepped aside so Julie could walk through the threshold. The familiar smells of an old home filled the air: the strong scent of dust, memories, and the lingering sweetness of baked goods prepared long ago. The memory of fresh oatmeal raisin cookies flitted across Julie’s mind again as she felt a feeling of familiarity in the smells of the old house, but the memory lasted only briefly.
“The kitchen is this way,” Edith said cheerfully as she led the way through the living room to the small kitchen at the back of the house. “I’ve got coffee in the cupboard if you want some. You’ll have to indulge an old woman and help make it, if you don’t mind. These old hands don’t work like they used to,” Edith chuckled as she settled into a chair at the kitchen table.
“Of course,” Julie replied as she rummaged through the cupboards until she found an aged tin can with a coffee label on it. Once the coffee was brewed, Julie grabbed two mugs off a set of hooks in front of the kitchen window and filled them both to the brim. Walking slowly, she balanced the mugs in her hands and brought them to the table where Edith was sitting. Julie placed one mug in front of Edith before sitting down next to her. She helped herself to the sugar and powdered coffee creamer on the table.
Julie took a sip from her mug. The coffee tasted slightly stale, as if it had been sitting in the old tin can in the cupboard for a good while. But with the added cream and sugar, Julie didn’t think much of it after a few sips.
“This is great, thank you.” Julie was grateful for the morning pick-me-up, even if it wasn’t the best cup of coffee she ever had.
“So have you always lived in Josephine?” Julie asked Edith as she looped her hands around her coffee mug.
“Yes ma’am. Born and raised.” Edith smiled her all-gums smile before she continued.
“My parents moved here before they had me. I lived here my whole life, married young and had my son here too. I never left.”
Julie nodded politely as Edith skimmed over the minor details of her past. She didn’t say much else about herself after that. They talked all morning, or rather, Julie told Edith about herself while Edith listened intently, offering up little information about herself. All Julie learned was that Edith didn’t really get out of the house, and her son took care of all of her needs. He lived a half hour out of town and he visited every week. Other than her son’s regular visits, she kept to herself. As Julie learned a little bit about Edith, she couldn’t help but feel as if she found a kindred spirit in the sweet old woman, explaining that she was an author that enjoyed her solitude very much, and preferred to keep to herself for the most part. Edith perked up when she mentioned she was a writer.
“An author you say?” Edith inquired with keen interest. “What kind of stories do you write?”
“I write mostly fiction. Mystery and thriller type stuff,” Julie replied.
“Oh, very good dear,” Edith replied, smiling her sweet smile. “Well I’d love to hear more about your work sometime.”
“Of course,” Julie said as she casually glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Well I want to thank you for the coffee and the company, but I’m afraid I should be going.”
“Oh, so soon?” Edith said with mild disappointment. “Well I suppose there’s always next time,” she added, perking up slightly.
“Next time then,” Julie reassured the old woman with a warm smile, promising to check in again in a few days. As she walked out the door and down the sidewalk, Julie turned around and waved to Edith, who was standing in the doorway, watching her go.
“Until next time then,” Edith called after her, waving one last time before closing the front door gently, almost silently behind her.
—
Such a sweet woman, Julie thought to herself as she recalled the events of the morning. She sat down at the table, opening her laptop and preparing to write for the afternoon. As she typed, she thought about her and Edith’s conversation. Edith didn’t mention a lot about her family, and come to think of it, Julie didn’t see many photos around the house. Or any photos for that matter. Strange. Edith didn’t mention her husband; she merely said that she married young. Julie didn’t even know her spouse or her son’s names. Julie knew that neither her nor Edith were obligated to reveal everything about themselves. They just met, and who was Julie to pry into a sweet old woman’s past? She was sure that whatever she needed to know would be revealed in time as she and Edith got to know each other better. Not thinking much more about it, Julie lost herself in her writing for the rest of the day.
She wrote late into the evening, only stopping to warm up some leftovers and to pour a glass of wine. As she sipped her cabernet, Julie couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. She couldn’t help but notice how little Edith had shared about her life. Sure, some people just didn’t like to reveal a great deal about themselves, but there was something in the subtleties that seemed a bit off. Julie recalled how the elderly woman didn’t return her handshake and how she didn’t have any pictures of her family on the walls, nothing to indicate there had been a family or happy memories at all. Edith’s persona just seemed distant and guarded, as if she was hesitant to reveal too much about herself and her past. A pang of sadness washed over Julie as she pictured Edith sitting in her house all alone every day with no one to talk to. Julie could see her future, a reflection of herself in Edith, the reclusive author that stayed at home and wasted away in solitude and silence. She wasn’t sure if it was a comforting or an upsetting thought. Finishing her wine, Julie closed her laptop, rinsed her wine glass and headed upstairs to bed.
—
The next morning Julie was up early, preparing to head into town. Just as she was about to open her car door and get in, she hesitated, stealing a glance across the street. After a moment of contemplation, she headed over, bounding up the familiar porch steps and ringing the doorbell. Edith answered a moment later, wearing a pink full-length nightgown with matching fluffy slippers.
“Why hello again, dear,” Edith said in surprise, “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”
“Hi, I’m sorry for barging in so early,” Julie said in response, “but I was just on my way into town and I just thought I’d stop by and see if you needed anything. If you don’t have any lunch plans I can pick something up to cook and swing back by later.”
“That sounds wonderful sugar, thank you for asking,” Edith smiled with gratitude. “Oh,” she lit up, remembering something, “I just remembered that I actually do need some more letter paper and envelopes. If it isn’t too much trouble of course. My son can pay you back when he comes by again this week.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m happy to help,” Julie said as she agreed to return at lunchtime.
—
Edith and Julie sat down to their lunch together and visited for most of the afternoon. Julie noticed that Edith didn’t even touch her food; she was invested in the conversation, inquiring about Julie’s book that she was writing with keen interest.
“It’s a true crime mystery novel based on true events, about a man from Josephine actually,” Julie gushed, explaining that the man vanished after his wife suddenly passed away from natural causes. “At least that’s what the official reports say. There are countless people who knew him and his wife that speculate there was foul play involved. Apparently the case was closed because of the lack of incriminating evidence. The autopsy revealed that the woman died of food poisoning. So there wasn’t enough evidence there to open up a full investigation. At first glance, it just looks like one of those strangely timed events. Some people still think that his wife didn’t die of food poisoning, that he was the one who poisoned her and that that’s why he disappeared,” Julie explained as Edith listened intently. “I’ve spent the better part of a year researching the case extensively, rather obsessively, and I have reason to believe that there are holes in the story, and I plan to fill those holes with theories and my own twist of fiction based on the real-life accounts of the people who knew the couple.” Julie smiled sheepishly when she was done, realizing she had been talking for quite a while as Edith just sat and listened quietly.
“How interesting,” Edith replied, urging her to go on. She didn’t seem to be bored at all by her obsessive chatter.
“So I’m writing the story from the point of view of a detective that has reason to believe that there was foul play. He does some investigating about the man’s past, and uncovers a history of delinquency and domestic abuse leading up to the alleged murder. Anyway, the detective uncovers evidence - through interviews with the few remaining townspeople and family members that knew him - that suggests that the man had a reasonable motive to put arsenic in his wife’s food, which proved that murder couldn’t be ruled out…” Julie trailed off, gaging Edith’s expression. “Anyway, I’m still working out all the details,” she said with a nervous laugh, realizing that she rambled on for a long time before she noticed that Edith had grown awfully quiet, and her face was as white as a ghost.
“I’m sorry if I bored you,” Julie apologized. “Are you alright?”
Edith was silent, her usual light and friendly persona growing frigid. “I uh…oh yes…of course dear,” she managed to say after a long pause. “I’m sorry to cut our visit short, but I’ve just grown quite tired. I think it’s time for my afternoon nap,” Edith smiled meekly at Julie, assuring her that there was nothing to worry about. As she struggled to stand up, Julie reached for Edith’s cane at the same time Edith did, attempting to offer her assistance. It was the subtlest brush of the hand, but Julie noticed that Edith’s hand was unusually cold.
Julie felt a wave of adrenaline surge through her.
“Edith, you’re cold. Are you sure you’re alright? Is there anything I can —?”
“Please dear, stop fussing over me. I’m fine, really. I just need to rest.” Edith’s eyes met Julie’s, and she realized she had been unkind, judging by the shocked look on Julie’s face at her sudden rudeness. Her eyes and tone softened as she said, “I’m sorry sugar, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I think I just overdid it, that’s all. I haven’t had many visitors these days. I think I just got excited and I wore myself out. Go on home dear. I’ll be alright. I promise.” As Edith walked Julie to the door, she informed her that her son was coming to visit the next day and that she should stop by to meet him and have dinner. Julie agreed to see her tomorrow, giving Edith a final concerned look over her shoulder as she descended the steps and made her way across the street back to her house.
—
As Julie laid in bed that night, she couldn’t stop playing the scene over in her head. The way Edith got quiet when she was telling her about the book she was writing. Julie was worried that she overstepped somehow. Maybe the old woman wasn’t keen on murder mysteries. She should have been more considerate. Julie closed her eyes, sighing as she scolded herself for getting carried away. As she closed her eyes, Julie couldn’t help but recall how flustered Edith got before she left. Her hand was so cold…icy to the touch. If Edith was sick…Julie couldn’t think about it. She didn’t want anything to happen to the only dear friend she had. It would be lonely in this house without someone else to talk to now and then.
Julie drifted off to sleep into a strange dream. She was at Edith’s house, in her kitchen, except Edith wasn’t anywhere to be found. It felt like an out of body experience, as if Julie was someone else. A hand suddenly reached across her body and set a plate of food in front of her at the table. When she turned to look up at the person standing next to her, she woke up before she could see their face.
Awakened by a jolt, Julie sprinted out of the bed and to the bathroom. She heaved into the toilet, the nausea twisting her stomach in pain. As she sat there with a damp cloth on her head, Julie figured it was something she ate. After a long moment passed the waves of nausea went away, almost instantly. Julie took note of this, but her mind was foggy from lack of sleep and feeling sick. She didn’t contemplate the sudden wave of sickness and its rapid dissipation too much before she dragged herself back to bed and slept through the rest of the night.
—
Julie spent the next day writing since she had dinner plans at Edith’s house that night. An hour before dinner, Julie took a quick shower, did her hair and makeup, and dressed in dark jeans and a floral blouse. Grabbing an unopened bottle of cabernet, she headed out the door and across the street.
An unfamiliar car was parked out front of Edith’s house. Her son must have arrived. As Julie headed up the sidewalk, she couldn’t help the eagerness she felt at the chance to meet a member of Edith’s elusive family. Julie bounded up the steps and rang the bell as she always did, but there was no answer on the first ring. There was nothing unusual about this; Julie knew it took Edith a little longer than most to get up and get to the door. She rang the doorbell a second time. Still no answer. Now this was unusual. Julie was about to ring the bell a third time when she heard the sound of locks being undone from the inside. The door opened slowly, just a crack. An older man peered through the small opening, eyeing Julie hesitantly. If she had to guess, Julie would assume this man was in his late sixties or early seventies.
“Um, hi, I’m Julie. I live across the street. You must be –?”
“Oh, hi,” the old man said, relaxing a little as he opened the door the rest of the way. “I’m Noah,” he reached out a hand and Julie gave it a polite shake. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
Julie didn’t hide her look of confusion as she looked at Noah, dubious.
“Oh, I thought I was supposed to be coming over for dinner,” Julie rambled nervously as she wondered if she misunderstood. Edith did tell her tonight, didn’t she? “Edith told me you were coming, and that I should come have dinner and meet you –”
“Wait,” Noah stopped Julie mid-sentence, looking at her as if he’d seen a ghost. “Did you say Edith?”
“Um, yeah,” Julie said as Noah’s eyes grew wide, incredulous. “I just moved here about two weeks ago. She came to introduce herself and I’ve visited her a couple times…” Julie trailed off, concern taking the place of confusion as she watched Noah turn white as a sheet.
Noah paused for a long moment, visibly struggling to form his words. He steadied himself against the doorframe for support before he spoke.
“I…uh…I don’t know how to tell you this but…my mother has been dead for ten years.”
Julie’s ears started to ring. Everything happened in slow motion. The wine bottle slipped out of her hand, hitting the porch with a loud shatter, spilling a deep red liquid at her feet that splattered over her jeans and formed a puddle under the soles of her shoes, now flecked with small splotchy red stains.
She didn’t think she heard him correctly. As she stood there in shock, Julie began to retrace the steps in her mind. A sweet old woman came to her house to introduce herself, and she invited her to her home multiple times over the past week. She didn’t dream it up. Edith was real. But as Julie recalled the way the old woman avoided any type of physical contact, and how she hadn’t actually witnessed her drink or eat anything, and the way she got distraught when Julie’s hand briefly grazed hers…no. It couldn’t be. Julie considered briefly if she had finally lost her grasp on reality, lost her mind altogether. When she decided she was sane of mind, she had to consider the alternative. Ghosts aren’t real…are they?
“I’m sorry…wh—? But that doesn’t make any sense, I…” Julie sputtered in disbelief as she explained to Noah that she in fact knew his mother.
“I’m so sorry, Julie,” Noah said, desperation and sorrow in his voice as he said, “I just don’t understand how that could be possible.”
Seeing how upset Julie was and not knowing what else to do, Noah said, “I can see you’re in distress. Would you like to come in? It’s the least I can offer. I’d like to tell you about my mother and help in any way I can.”
Julie slowly stepped inside, eyes staring forward in a daze as she wandered into the kitchen out of habit, to the only place in the house that was familiar. She slowly lowered herself into her regular dining chair as Noah trailed in behind her, seating himself in the adjacent chair. Edith’s chair. Julie’s eyes were locked on the seat next to her as Noah began to speak. He took a deep breath and told Julie everything.
“My parents married young, before my father enlisted as an Air Force pilot in World War II. When he came back a year later, after an involuntary discharge, he and my mother had me within the next year. Growing up, I remember that my father wasn’t the most sensitive and caring man. Mother said that his short time in the war was hard on him and he returned a different person entirely. I mean he was never the picture perfect father figure even before, but I know that a lot of kids probably had it worse. She stayed for my sake, or so she said. She didn’t want to be the reason I didn’t have a father. Meanwhile he only got worse overtime. He was possessive and he didn’t like my mother leaving the house. I would always hear them arguing, hear my father accuse her of wrongdoing and being unfaithful. She finally stopped fighting back, deciding it was easier to do what he said, for both of our sakes. It was scary how he could change moods so quickly over the smallest things. So she stopped talking back, and stopped leaving the house. It was difficult to see the most tenderhearted and loving soul I ever knew being mistreated like that, and to know that I was merely a helpless child against his unreasonable wrath against me and my mother. Anyone that had the privilege of knowing Edith considered themselves very lucky, everyone except for my father.
“I left the house as soon as I turned eighteen, but I stayed close, went to college nearby. I would come see my mother once a week. I begged her to come with me, back to the city, to leave him for good, but she refused to put me in harm’s way; she knew he would come looking for her and she couldn’t live with herself if something happened to me. My father was always emotionally abusive to her, that I knew for certain. But she always seemed alright when I visited. At least she put on a brave face for me. She didn’t want me to worry. She told me a great deal of things, about father’s outbursts and the growing tensions between them, but it never seemed like there was any physical abuse involved, and I was at least grateful for that. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I knew he was putting his hands on her too. I knew he was negligent, that he never gave her the medical attention she needed. Mother told me in confidence that she knew Father was giving her irregular doses of her medication so that her behavior and her health was always sporadic. I guess it was some twisted way of keeping her under his thumb. I tried to tell Mother to lock up her medication and administer it herself, but when Father found out that she intended to do it, he took her pills away from her and hid them away and stopped giving them to her entirely. Once my mother became more dependent on him and he had to care for her more, it seemed like a switch flipped. He was more unhinged than before. I guess feeling obligated to care for my mother was too much of a burden for a selfish man, despite the fact he was so invested in controlling her in all aspects of her life. I tried to confront him in the past about all this, but he just refused to discuss it. One day after a screaming match he told me to get out, to never show my face at home again. So I stopped coming around when he was home. I just tried to be there for my mother in any way I could. I didn’t know what else to do. I knew if he had it in him to write off his own son that he was no doubt treating his feeble wife poorly. And that’s how it was for the next forty years.
“I got the call when I was in Dallas. My mother had passed away. Food poisoning, they said. Something she ate the night before. I rushed back to Josephine as soon as I heard the news. I planned to confront my father, to have him look me in the eyes and tell me he didn’t have anything to do with her death. But by the time I made it home, he was gone. He just skipped town. I never saw or heard from him again.
“Ever since she passed I come by once a week to check on things and to tend to the house. I wasn’t able to scrape up the money for proper repairs and renovations until about three years ago. After I got the place cleaned up, I left everything else as she requested, the same as it was, save for all the photos and memorabilia I took off the walls and packed away. Too many memories lying around. I couldn’t deal with seeing them every time I came back here.” Noah sighed, struggling to form his next words. “I can’t help but blame myself for the way her life turned out. Like I’m responsible for her death somehow. If it wasn't for me she wouldn’t have had to stay and suffer with my father all those years…”
Julie and Noah sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime. Julie couldn’t begin to process everything she had just been told. The biggest shock of all was that Edith had been dead for ten years. But how on Earth was that possible? Why did their meeting and time together feel so real? There was something oddly familiar about Noah’s father, as if she had heard about this man before. A former Air Force pilot with a shady background, who disappeared after his wife died suddenly.
When Julie realized why the man sounded familiar, her blood ran cold. It couldn’t be. Julie’s heart skipped a beat.
Breaking the silence, Julie slowly met Noah’s gaze as she said, “Wait…what was your father’s name?” Julie tensed, awaiting Noah’s response, somehow already knowing the answer.
“His name was…” Noah confirmed what Julie already knew to be true, and the name echoed in the air as a shock wave ran through Julie. Her ears began to ring as realization took hold. She looked at Noah with pure astonishment.
“Noah, there’s something you should know about me.”
Julie told him that she was an author and described the novel she was writing. About a man from Josephine, a man who vanished after his wife died unexpectedly. About the speculation that he allegedly murdered his wife, poisoned her with arsenic. About how the case was closed and never reopened. His name was John Rose.
Up to now Julie thought that Edith’s name was mere coincidence; she never even knew her last name, had never gotten the chance to ask. But after everything she just heard, and after hearing his name, Julie knew there was no denying that this was Edith’s husband. This was her story.
How could fate have brought Julie back to her hometown, to the doorstep where it all happened a decade ago? Did Edith have unfinished business? Did her husband really have the heart to murder her in cold blood?
As impossible as it all sounded, it seemed to be the most plausible explanation in the midst of all the impossible events that had transpired over the past two weeks.
“I–I, I’m sorry Noah,” Julie stammered as she slowly rose from her seat - at the very dining table where she had coffee and multiple conversations with Edith, or so she thought - announcing that she had to go. She stumbled out of the house, forgetting the shattered wine bottle on the porch, as she hurried back across the street. She burst through the door, slamming and locking it hastily behind her, panting heavily. She went straight to her laptop.
Julie pulled up every article and piece of research she had gathered over the last year and began to skim through it, slowly fitting all the pieces together.
—
John Rose was born in Josephine, Texas. He had a history of delinquency, charged with a misdemeanor at sixteen that led to multiple charges of petty theft and disorderly conduct in the following years. He married Edith Rose in 1940. He joined the Air Force in World War II. Lying on his military enlistment documents, he received an involuntary administrative discharge from the Air Force for withholding information about his delinquent past on his papers. After he returned home, he had a son. Noah Rose. There were sneaking suspicions that John was no stranger to domestic abuse; he would later be suspected for elderly abuse by the people that knew John and Edith in their later years.
According to the personal accounts that Julie found, many of John and Edith’s neighbors were concerned for Edith’s safety. There were a few documented noise complaints filed with the police department. Many reports described a man yelling and loud banging noises coming from the house in the evening hours most nights. Edith was seen less and less out in public, until it was rumored that she never left the house anymore. Suspicions were raised about John neglecting Edith, a once active member of the community, suddenly locked away in her home after John returned from the war. It was as if she disappeared after that. It seemed that all the rumors of John controlling and possessing Edith were true. Aside from the few noise complaints, there were no real police reports filed. No one came forward. When friends and family would call Edith’s house, they claimed that John would bark orders in the background, making her get off the phone if the callers started to pry or show any type of concern for Edith. During these phone calls, some people noted that Edith seemed a bit off, as if she was receiving improper dosage of her medication, or being kept off of it purposefully. She just wasn’t herself in the final years. As if she was a shell of who she once was, scared into submission by an irrational man.
All the personal accounts Julie had were all hearsay, and no one really looked into the matter until Edith passed. The autopsy report confirmed it was food poisoning. John left town soon after that, vanished into thin air just as real questions were starting to be raised about Edith’s unexpected death. The evidence was insufficient; it wasn’t enough to track John down, to accuse him of murder. But those that knew him weren’t so sure that it was something Edith ate. Some believed it was arsenic - a highly toxic poison with no taste or smell or traceability - that could easily appear as food poisoning on an autopsy report. No one would have known any differently if it hadn’t been for the local hardware store owner’s account of selling John some rat poison a week before Edith’s death. After he skipped town, John was found a month later, dead in a cabin in the mountains of Arkansas. They ruled it as a suicide. The police found traces of rat poison on his clothes and beneath his fingernails upon investigation of the scene. All of Edith’s grieving family members and friends would never know the whole story. The case was closed. There was no justice for Edith, and no one to pay for her murder with John dead, too cowardly to face the law in the end, to own up to his filthy deeds. Julie was numb. She couldn’t believe anyone would have the heart to do something so awful to such a sweet old woman. As she sat there, thinking about Edith’s behavior over the last two weeks, it started to make sense. She locked her past away because it was too horrific to relive. If she were actually dead, then it would make sense that the reason Julie was able to communicate with her was because she had unfinished business. Julie had never felt that type of chill before when her hand brushed Edith’s. There was no denying the truth, what was right in front of Julie all along.
—
Grabbing her laptop, Julie burst out the door and sprinted back to Edith’s house. Noah answered the door quickly, surprise and concern written on his face.
“Julie, what is it?” Noah asked, apprehension in his voice.
“You need to see this,” Julie said as she pushed her way past Noah into the kitchen, laying her opened laptop on the dining table. She showed Noah all the records, the articles, and the personal accounts, walking him through everything that she discovered about his father. Not in a million years would she have thought that she would be the one to provide the missing piece of this mystery so many years later.
“So he did murder her,” Noah slumped back in his chair as he took it all in. He added definitively, “And from the sound of it he couldn’t live with himself afterwards, so he…no. I bet he just didn’t want to get caught. I’ve known that man my whole life. There’s no way he felt any remorse for what he did. Mother told me stories of how he was before the war and after, and it seemed to me that Father was always a quick-tempered and hard- hearted man. I have a hard time believing that he was compassionate, or that he had convictions about his actions. Coward. I really do wonder what my mother saw in him, what made them fall in love to begin with. Surely at some point he was a decent man. But that wasn’t who he really was underneath. What motive could he have possibly had to murder such a sweet woman in cold blood? I guess I’ll never know. And to think all this time I thought he just disappeared and started a new life. Now it all makes sense.”
Julie reached for Noah’s hand, looking him in the eyes as she said, “Noah, you have to know that I had no idea –”
“I know,” Noah cut her off as he squeezed her hand reassuringly, gazing off, thoughtful. “After all these years...I can’t believe it. I can only hope that my mother can finally find some peace on the other side. If she does, then I know it’s because of you, and for that you have my thanks. After thinking about the events of the evening and the last couple of weeks, I get the feeling that this was no chance encounter. I don’t know what compelled you to tell this story, to come back to Josephine when you did, but I know you came back for a reason. You have to tell her story. Finish it, tell the world. For all those who loved her, for me…for her. It’s not too late to give her the peace she has been searching this Earth for over the last ten years. She must have known you were the missing piece to her unfinished business.”
Julie made a promise that night that she would see this story through to the end, for Edith’s sake.
Neither Julie or Noah slept; they talked through the night. Noah told Julie all about his mother and his memories of her, and Julie shared her memories of the last two weeks that she had with her. Julie and Noah talked until the sun came up. They reminisced on their stories of Edith, and Julie couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if she had known Edith longer. She was glad to have had the last two weeks to know her, and it brought her peace to know that she might be able to help Edith finally be at rest after so many years.
—
“Coffee?” Noah asked as he filled the coffee pot with water and grabbed the coffee scoop off a hook above the kitchen sink.
“That sounds wonderful,” Julie replied as she felt a sense of déjà vu at the thought of having coffee in this house, in this very chair, at this very table just a few days ago, with a ghost. She was somber as she recalled the sweet old woman who always called her “dear” and “sugar.” Julie didn’t know how she was going to spend her time now, especially knowing what she now knew. She had to face the harsh reality that she didn’t know anyone in this town, not anymore. The ones she knew moved on a long time ago, and Edith was gone now too.
After Julie finished her coffee, she insisted that she must go home. Pausing at the threshold to take it all in one last time - the quaint home, the sweet old smells of dust and memories that became familiar to Julie in such a short time - she pondered for a moment in bittersweet realization. The few treasured moments she had here would be the youngest and most short-lived memories this house would ever hold amongst its oldest secrets and recollections. Oh if these walls could talk, Julie thought to herself as she walked out of the door and down the steps for the last time.
—
Julie had a recurring dream, much like the dream she had the night before. She was back at Edith’s house, sitting at the table where she was before. Except this time, Edith was sitting across from her at the table, and Julie felt as if she was herself, unlike the out of body experience she felt the first time around. The same hand reached across Edith’s body and set a plate of food in front of her at the table. When the figure emerged from the shadows, Julie recognized the man. It was Edith’s husband, John. Julie was mortified as she watched the scene unfold.
“Thank you dear,” Edith smiled up at her husband as he set the plate down in front of her.
“Just eat,” John growled as he stomped away, disappearing into the shadows. The look on Edith’s face said it all, and it was enough to make Julie’s heart break. Her kindness was met with anger, and the sweet old woman had no idea why in all their years together John stopped loving her like he used to so long ago.
Edith’s eyes met Julie’s across the table, filled with sorrow and desperation, but also something else. She seemed to be at peace.
“I’m free,” Edith whispered as she picked up her fork.
“Free? What do you mean?” Julie asked, confused by Edith’s words.
“Thank you,” Edith replied. The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as she took a bite of the food, chewing thoughtfully as she closed her eyes. And then she vanished.
Julie turned to look at John, an angry looming presence in the shadows. When his eyes met Julie’s, Julie felt a cold rush of adrenaline course through her body. His eyes were pitch black; Julie felt the overwhelming sensation of nothingness and hostility as she held his gaze. And then she woke up.
This was the second night in a row that Julie awoke to severe stomach cramps, and she sprinted to the bathroom just as she did the night before. As she heaved and the pain dissipated, Julie finally understood. In her first dream, Julie was Edith, the night that she died. Her husband was giving her the food that he had poisoned as he prepared it. In the second dream Julie had a third person view of the whole scene, and the mystery figure was revealed. Edith thanked Julie before she disappeared. She said she was free. At that moment Julie was certain that she would never see Edith again. She mourned the loss of her dear friend and her horrific death that she didn’t deserve. Then she mourned for the lost and wandering spirit that Julie came to know in her short time back in Josephine. And after a restless and sleepless night, she woke up with a feeling of acceptance and peace in her heart. Something told her that Edith was finally free.
—
An abrupt knock on the door made Julie jump. She was not expecting anyone. She looked through the peephole and recognized the visitor’s face. With a sigh of relief, she unfastened the door latch, unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. It was Noah, holding a small white envelope, his face somber.
“Hi Julie, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was just tending to the house and I found this envelope in a drawer in the kitchen. It’s addressed to you.”
Julie hesitated before she slowly reached for the letter, taking it from Noah’s hand. She stared down at the name scrawled across the envelope in disbelief. She recognized the envelope from the ones she bought Edith upon her request, along with some new letter paper that she brought over when they had lunch together and Julie told her about her book. That was the last day she saw Edith. Julie’s heart was heavy as she recalled their last meeting.
It had been a week since Julie had seen Noah, and there hadn’t been a letter then. How could this be? Julie realized that a week ago, she had to stop asking certain questions about how the secrets of the universe worked in mysterious ways around her. Noah’s voice brought Julie back to reality.
“I think my mother is finally at peace,” Noah said thoughtfully, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “The air just feels lighter and the sun seems to be shining a little bit brighter. I can feel her all around.” After taking a deep breath and looking at the beautiful, cloudy blue sky overhead, Noah turned back to Julie and said, “I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done. Even if you didn’t realize you were doing it. You gave my mother and I the peace of mind we’ve desperately needed all these years. So thank you.” Holding out his hand, Julie reached out and gave it a kind shake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Julie. If you ever need anything or if you ever want to stop by when I’m in the neighborhood, the door is always open. Edith would want you to consider her house home.”
Knowing she would never have the heart to step through the threshold of that haunted place again, Julie simply smiled and said, “Thank you so much, Noah. It was a pleasure meeting you as well. Your mother was an amazing woman. I’m happy that she has finally gotten the closure she deserved and the peace she needed.” With a knowing smile, Noah turned on his heel and took his leave.
Julie watched Noah walk away as she sat on the steps of her front porch. The letter felt heavy in her hand. After a long moment, she tore the envelope open and pulled out a letter. She unfolded it with shaking hands, taking a deep breath as she began to read.
Hello dear,
I hope this letter finds you well. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest before. I wasn’t sure how to approach this situation delicately. When you moved in, I felt an odd pull to you. I had to meet you, to figure out what it was I was feeling, the reason I felt like I had to know you. When you told me who you were, that’s when I knew why you and I crossed paths. In truth, I knew your grandfather quite well, and he expressed concern for my well being when things got rough and tried to save me from my misery. I didn’t want to put him in harm’s way by letting him help me. I hope you understand. I couldn’t let him do it. My husband would have been none too kind to him and I couldn’t live with myself if he harmed anyone I cared about.
I’ve been a wandering soul for a decade now, not knowing what was tethering me to Earth after all this time. It turned out to be unfinished business. Something inside me knew there was more to the story than what I was originally led to believe. Now I know the truth, and it’s because of you. There were times over those years that I wished I could go back to the night John and I met, wished that I could have found some way to ensure that we never met at all. But knowing that I wouldn’t have my sweet Noah made me hang up those thoughts and regrets. I’m satisfied with my life and how it turned out; I have made my peace with the ghosts of my past. There were so many good things in the midst of the bad, and I owe that all to my son. I hope you understand now why I had to know you. You were the key to setting me free, the one who would tell my story to the world. You are the reason that I know the truth, and I had to find some way to thank you before I truly passed on, before I finally lay down to rest after ten long years. Thank you for the company and the memories, short lived as they were. Your grandfather would be proud of the woman you have become. Goodbye dear.
Your friend always,
Edith Rose
Julie noticed there was another folded up piece of paper inside the envelope. It was an unfiled police report. Her grandfather’s name was written at the top of the form. As Julie read the details of the incident in her grandfather’s words, she was shocked when she realized that Edith must have known Norman was going to report John to the police, and she confiscated the police report so he wouldn’t intervene. Not letting her fellow neighbor help her ended up being what got her killed.
Tears ran down Julie’s face as she sobbed. So Edith knew Norman really well. He must have noticed the signs, which prompted him to step in and try to help his dear friend. He must have come to the painful realization that there was nothing that could be done, not unless Edith wanted it to be so. Julie understood now that Edith was just trying to protect the people she loved.
Julie couldn’t help but think how bittersweet and unusual the events of the last two weeks had been. A strange force pulled her back to her hometown, and Julie and Edith’s paths crossed soon after. Little did Julie know that this woman was in need of saving; she didn’t realize that she was telling this woman’s story all along. She thought about the ghost stories she used to read when she was a kid. Of supernatural beings and happenings that at the time seemed like mere fiction to a child. Thinking about the events of the past two weeks, Julie knew with certainty that all the stories were true. She couldn’t help but think of the countless souls that must roam the ends of the earth, searching for the reasons why, and why their lives in the land of the living in which they existed before ended tragically, pulling them unwillingly to the other side without an answer. Julie could only hope that those wandering souls could find peace eventually. Now that Edith was free, Julie wondered if she would ever see her again. She decided that anything was possible now. As she closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the sun, she breathed in deep and let out a long sigh. With a heavy heart and a bittersweet smile, Julie sat there on the stairs for a long time as she mourned, reminisced, and thought about her dear friend.
THE END