Shadows of Shadows - 6. Generation Gap

The volunteer rescue squad was at the house in around twenty minutes. Swirling red lights illuminated the village, alerting all to trouble at the old Sanders house. Though there were no sirens, every neighborhood dog filled the void, surely leaving no one in the dark about Susan’s interesting night.

The two EMTs were an amiable husband and wife, Bobby and Linda, a couple of early retirees living out their childfree fifties. They were relieved when Makayla stumbled out onto the back porch under her own power with a bloody towel pressed to her head.

Linda, a tallish lady with the remains of an athletic figure and salt-and-pepper hair, secured gauze to Makayla’s brow. “We have a couple of girls just about your age,” Linda told them. Popping the tape to length, she gave a satisfied grunt. “There we go, it’s not bad, it’s just a bleeder.”

“You’ve got Massachusetts plates,” Bobby pointed out. The somewhat stout fellow in shorts was running supplies from the ambulance to the porch on muscly calves. “Our baby is a senior at Harvard. Are you girls in college?”

“We’re juniors at UMass,” said Susan, enjoying the company of sane people for the moment. “At Amherst.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Bobby teased. Linda blushed and shot him a dirty look, but he continued cherily, “What are your majors?”

“Studio art. Ow!” replied Makayla as Linda wrapped her sprained wrist.

“Sociology here,” said Susan.

“Oh, I heard they’re opening up a big sociology factory in Boston, so that’ll come in handy,” Bobby sniggered.

“Oh, shut up, Bobby!” commanded Linda. “Go and get them some gauze and tape to keep here, and see if there are any head injury brochures in the bag.” She turned back to Susan and Makayla. “Don’t listen to him; he always embarrasses himself in front of young girls. Are you going into social work after school, honey? She asked Susan.

“Yeah, I’m looking at an LCSW program for grad school,” said Susan.

“That’s nice! You should come here. There are just not enough services in this county. All right, Makayla, make sure you ice that sprain. Are you sure you don’t want to take a ride to the hospital? They can check you for a concussion or hemorrhage.”

Makayla shook her head, and though she winced in regret at the gesture, said “No, Susan can look after me.”

Susan gulped. She was almost ready to jump at the chance to get out of this house. However, in comparing death by ghost to telling Mom she was going crazy, while simultaneously handing her an insurance claim against her dead mother’s house … well, that was a toughie.

Bob brought the dressings and a little pamphlet titled “Head and Brain Injuries”. He handed them to Susan. “Read this. You need to watch her closely for about 48 hours. Nausea, vomiting, confusion, anything like that, get her to the emergency room right away. Give her Tylenol and ibuprofen for pain, and if that doesn’t help …”

“...go to the ER, got it,” confirmed Susan. Bob and Linda packed up and said goodbye, then drove off into the darkness.

Makalyla and Susan sat under the garish porch light, watching moths futilely strain against the screen. A few crickets, foretelling the bellowing insects to come in a couple of weeks’ time, strained against a stiff breeze in the trees. The barking dogs gave up one by one, to be replaced by owls calling to one another in the nearby woods. Makayla finally broke the stillness on the porch.

“Are you ready to go back in?”

Susan answered a different question: “I know what I saw. She wanted to push you off.”

Makayla sighed and shrugged. “Or maybe, and hear me out, I was wearing socks on wooden stairs and I stood up too fast.” Plus, you screamed and pointed at empty air when I wasn’t expecting it, was left unsaid. “Look, Susan, I’ve had it for tonight, let’s just go to bed.”

“Motel. Tonight. I’m not doing this again.” Susan declared.

“I really don’t feel like going anywhere, Susan,” Makayla insisted. “Don’t forget, you’re supposed to be watching me for 48 hours. Where are you going to find a place? I saw, like, one, in the last forty miles I drove last night, and they were closed. Most of the chains are, because of COVID. I don’t want to think about what the mom-and-pop places are like around here -- again, if we can even find an open one.”

“Well, I’m not going back in till daytime,” Susan flatly stated. “I’m getting my stuff out in the morning, and Mom can find someone else to pack the rest of it up. I’ll sleep in my damn car before I sleep inside that house again.”

Makayla shook her disbelieving head. “Go ahead then,” she huffed, and walked in the kitchen door.

Susan was left alone, but was gratified to discover that the outdoors held no terror for her; there was just anger at Makayla for blowing her off. She thought: the dream woman said she couldn't see stars without Susan’s help. Maybe she was trapped inside unless she was brought out. It might make sense. It didn’t feel like anything out here; maybe the car would be far enough away. She slapped at her pocket and felt her keys. Sleepwalking was one thing, what if the woman managed to get out and wanted to go for a drive? Hmm, she thought, I think there’s a wrench in the back.

From under the hood, Susan caught a glimpse of Makayla silhouetted in the porch light, carrying pillows and blankets. “What are you doing to your car?” she asked.

“Here, hold the light,” ordered Susan, pressing the phone into Makayla’s fingers.

Makayla danced the beam around, until it glinted on the wrench above the battery. “Oh, no!” she yipped. “Won’t you get shocked?”

Susan made one more adjustment to the wrench before fitting it to the negative cable. “No,” she informed Makayla. “Only if you touch the terminals at the same time, or the positive and the metal of the car. It’s perfectly safe.” Susan loosened and slipped the black cable off the battery, then started on the positive.

“So, that doesn’t tell me why …” Makayla prompted.

“Errf! Got it. Help me pick this up, Makayla!” The two lifted the massive block from the engine, and Susan directed it to the ground by the front bumper. “Because,” explained Susan, “I can sleepwalk, maybe I can sleep-drive, but I’d like to see anyone sleep-install a car battery.”

Makayla laughed, “You’re crazy, baby! Come on, let's get tied up and tucked in.”
***

Tap. Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

Susan popped her eyes open, and gave a little squeal of horror at the murky figure beyond the foggy glass. However, the morning was bright, and instead of red hair, this phantasm was clearly topped with a cowboy hat. Susan punched at the window switch, and finding it inoperable scrambled for the keys. The bit of brain containing the memory of heaving out a giant battery finally arrived, and Susan popped the door open.

“Uh, hi? Good morning?” Susan greeted her uncertainly.

The Cowboy Lady puzzled over Susan and Makayla for a few seconds. “I saw the ambulance come down last night. Did you get hurt?” she finally asked.

“Makayla -- this is Makayla, I told you about her,” she nodded at the snoring girl in the reclined passenger seat, “-- had a, um, a fall last night. But she’s fine.”

Cowboy Lady stooped a bit beyond her usual stance to examine the sleeping Makayla. “She got a good bump on the head. Did Bobby and Linda fix her up?”

“Yes. How did you know?” Jesus! What is with these people? Susan fumed inside. Can’t we have any secrets around here?

“Just a guess. It’s their week. They’ve gotten me after a couple of falls, but you young people bounce, I guess.” She chuckled at her own joke, then finally asked what Susan was had expected from the beginning: “Why are you two sleeping in your car?”

Susan mumbled, “Mice. Makayla’s afraid of mice.”

“Oh, well that’s no problem,” said Cowboy Lady. “I know exactly where your grandmother keeps the traps.” She turned to the back porch and made a wavering beeline for the kitchen door.

“No! Wait!” Susan whipped the blanket off her lap, and gave chase, but almost found herself face-down in the dirt. She swore at the pillowcase tied between her ankle and Makayla’s. She scrabbled back into the driver’s seat and clawed at the knots while Makayla stretched and moaned.

“What’s going on?” Makayla asked muzzily

“A neighbor, one of the old ladies,” Susan answered, popping the knot apart. “ She’s going in the house."

Susan bolted from the car leaving Makayla to mumble in confusion. She jogged up to the back porch and in the kitchen, saying, “I moved all the mouse stuff, you’re not going to find it …”

But Cowboy Lady wasn’t listening. Her attention was rather arrested by the papers on the kitchen table. She lightly touched Makayla’s sketch of the dream woman, caressing the lines in mute admiration.

“Do -- do you like it?” Susan asked hesitantly.

“I was just going to say, ‘I see you finally found one.” This picture.” Cowboy Lady half- whispered, “I wonder who made it? I never knew anyone who would draw her portrait.”

“Who?” Susan, asked, puzzled.

“Your grandmother, of course. But it’s been sixty years since she looked like this. Where did you find it?”

“Are you serious?” Susan picked up the drawing, searching the lines and colors for a resemblance. “This doesn’t look like my grandma.”

“Well, you never knew her with the long red hair,” Cowboy Lady offered as explanation, “and I guess you weren't born until after she had that cancer on her face. It’s her, though.”

Susan held the sketch and stared dumbly. Outside of the world between her and the drawing, Cowboy Lady was talking about how to frame and where to hang it. Beyond that, just at the edge of reality and imagination, there was the faintest hint of a long, sobbing wail.

Makayla drifted in, mumbling about Tylenol, but stopped to smile and hail their guest.

“Well, hello there. You must be Michelle. My name is Marian. Susan’s grandmother was one of my oldest friends.”

***

Marian put her tea down on the end table and rocked in grandma’s chair. “I saw the two of you outside the house yesterday. You sure are close,” she revealed.

Makayla gasped and glanced at Susan, who, sitting by her on the sofa, blushed and sweated. Caught kissing! Busted! “Is there anything you don’t see?” Susan asked, coloring it with mild accusation.

Marian showed not even the least shame. “All we’ve got out here is each other. We have to keep an eye out. And you may not believe me, Susan, but it’s nothing new to me.”

“What isn't?” asked Makayla.

“Oh, I see it on the news and such all the time now, but girls kissing girls used to be something you didn’t even talk about. Well, now,” Marian rocked quietly a moment and stared out the window. “It makes me think about … It makes me remember … oh, but it’s not important.”

“You and grandma were in love!” Susan blurted. “Before she got married, you and grandma found out you wanted each other!”

Marian started but recovered. “Well, I gave you a clue.” Thank you for not asking how I knew. Thought Susan, relieved. Marian explained, “It was the late 50’s. Well, I’ve never told anyone this …”

“Please, tell us!” Makayla begged.

“Well, I guess we’re kind of in the same boat, so … yes, we discovered we felt the same way. I was seventeen and she was twenty when it started. It was on and off for a couple of years, whenever we could get privacy. But then your grandfather bought the house and the fields. A young man, handsome, charming. He started courting your grandmother, and she couldn’t say no. Then I started reading my Bible and decided I couldn’t keep seeing your grandmother. She was heartbroken.

“She got married in ‘57. She didn’t know the mistake she was making. I knew she couldn’t really love him. I didn’t want to end up the same way, so I joined the WACs and got out of here. I left before the wedding; I couldn’t bear to watch it.”

“WACs?” wondered Makayla.

“Women’s Army Corps,” said Susan. “Keep going, please.”

“It was years before I came home again, but I heard what happened next. He was charming, but he could be mean, mean, mean at home! You would call it -- um, domestic violence is what they say on the news -- but we didn’t think that way back then. Then one night Rachel -- your grandmother -- swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills, and they almost lost her.”

Makayla gasped and covered her gaping mouth. “Oh my God!” Susan exclaimed. “No one ever told me that! That really happened?”

“Oh, yes,” said Marian solemnly. “I may be the last person alive who knows it. I would bet your mother and your uncle don’t even know. Anyway, she pulled through.”

Makayla was in disbelief. “She stayed married?”

Marian gazed back out the window. “It was the 50’s. I mean, there was talk about a divorce, but Rachel found out she was pregnant.”

“How did they --? When --? Eww! It must have been before the pills,” Susan reasoned.

“They were worried that he would have problems, but Steven was just fine. You know, though, if you ask me, he was never the brilliant one.” Marian tutted at the thought.

“Well, what happened then?” demanded Makayla.

“I retired in 1980. I was a First Sergeant, but the WACs had been disbanded by then. I came back to take care of my mother in that house --” Marian nodded across the road “-- and met Steven and Gloria, your mother. They were born eight years apart. The way I heard it, Rachel trying to kill herself, then having a son, shook your grandfather to his core. He shaped up, and they stuck it out for their children. If they never actually loved each other, they learned to be a team. And of course, I was back. Rachel and I made up, and she forgave me, I think.”

“Did you ever get back together?” Makayla asked.

“Good heavens, no! She was a busy mother, I was an over-the-hill single school secretary. I mean, we were together for hours at a time when she had the cancer and she would sometimes bring it up, but in a place like this, we couldn’t keep that kind of a secret. Besides, I was still convinced it was the Devil working within me. No, by the time your grandfather died, and I started to change my mind about that, we were too old. Just good friends. The best.”

***

Cowboy Lady -- Marian -- had walked home. Susan and Makayla were still sitting stunned to silence on the sofa.

“Well, what are we going to do now?” asked Makayla.

Susan knew exactly what to do. She rose and said, “I need a nap. Alone.” She strode to the downstairs bedroom, and Makayla tried to follow. “No,” said Susan. Just keep an eye and an ear out for me. Why don’t you watch that movie? I’ve already seen it.” And I’m about to walk into it, she thought.