20 - Max
The very next day on the morning of Halloween, Caroline’s beloved garden was torn apart by a bulldozer. It didn’t take long for the rest of the skeleton to be found. One by one, they pulled the dirt-encrusted bones from the earth. I was there, watching in horror from the sidewalk. The scene in front of me made my stomach churn — but I couldn’t help myself. It was like an awful accident you couldn’t pry your eyes away from.
When the bulldozer was done, the men and women with the masks and plastic gloves moved in to gather up the remains. They collected the pieces in special bags and then dug around some more to make sure there weren’t any other bodies down there. But I didn’t wait around to watch that part. As I was leaving, I heard someone say it would take weeks for the DNA tests to come back to determine the age and sex of the person whose skull I’d held in my hands.
I didn’t need to wait that long for the answer. I knew who those bones belonged to.
After that day, I didn’t go back to the library again. I was way too ashamed to face Caroline after what I’d done. Even though she’d been standing just a few feet away during the excavation, she wouldn’t even look at me. Maybe it was because she was mad at me. Or maybe it was because she was too busy crying. She and Nana had been watching together, both of their faces soaked with tears at the sight of their treasured antique garden getting ripped apart. I knew she hated me for ruining it. And for sneaking around behind her back and lying to her.
And the thing was … I really couldn’t blame her one bit.
Weeks went by and I buried myself in schoolwork, trying my hardest to forget I’d ever known her. But it didn’t work. Little bits and pieces of her were constantly creeping in and out of my thoughts: her voice, her smell, her dimples, her eyes. It was like I had a disease and there was no cure for it.
Every day on my way to school I passed by Colborne Street with my chin tucked into my neck and my eyes glued to my shoes. I didn’t even want to see the library in case the place was trying to suck me back in. The pull of it was still there, but not nearly as strong as before. I guess regret and shame are more powerful emotions than temptation.
But man, I missed Caroline.
Badly
. And in a weird way, I even missed John. I wondered how he ended up buried in an unmarked grave. If there had ever been a fishing lure at all. Why he chose me to find his body. And why he tricked me into digging him up like that? Did he really drown all those years ago? Or had someone killed him?
I had to accept the fact that I’d probably never know those answers. The only thing I knew for sure was that John was desperate to be found — for people to see him and know he was there. I guess it was kind of like how I’d been so desperate for people to see me when I first started coming to the library. Lying in an unmarked grave was like being invisible forever … like you’d never even existed. It must have been the worst feeling in the world. I can only guess that John needed to find someone he could trust to help him … someone who understood his desperation enough to rescue him from it. And that’s probably why he chose to contact me. Because I was invisible, too.
Sorry, I
used
to be invisible. Since the night I dug up the skull, all that’s changed. The police have been lining up to interview me and so have all the local newspapers and TV stations. I’ve had dozens of ghost hunters and psychics calling me, wanting to hear my story. And absolutely every kid at my school suddenly knew my name. For two weeks straight, I couldn’t walk down the hall without somebody stopping me to ask about the body in the garden and the ghost in the library and how the two were connected.
But in the end, it was really Caroline who had changed everything around for me. She’d seen me better than anyone. She’d stepped up and been my friend when nobody else would do it. And I’d gone and ruined it all.
I was miserable without her.
And then, one afternoon in early December, there was a knock at my front door. I’d come home from school and had just poured myself a bowl of cereal and flipped on the TV. When I looked through the peephole and saw who was standing on the front porch, I almost stopped breathing. It took me a full minute to build up the nerve to open the door.
Was she here to yell at me? Tell me how much she hated my guts?
I braced myself for the worst as I pulled open the door. The instant I did, the old hammer was swinging into my stomach and I almost slammed it shut again. She was so pretty, I could barely stand to look at her. A blue wool cap covered most of her hair except for a few golden pieces that had come loose around her face. And her cheeks and nose were pink from the wintry air. Peanut was there, too, faithfully standing guard at her feet. I don’t know how it was possible, but Caroline’s blue eyes looked sadder than the little pug’s.
“How did you find out where I live?” I blurted. I was so shocked, I didn’t even say hi which I guess was kind of rude. But honestly, I just was too freaked out to give a rat’s ass about manners.
She looked surprised by my question. “I-I went to your school and asked the secretary for your address.”
“And they gave it to you? I don’t think they’re supposed to do that.”
“Yeah, well … it’s amazing the kind of information you can get your hands on when you flash an official-looking form.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, looking at her like she was speaking a foreign language. My words were coming out a lot harsher than I wanted, but I couldn’t help it. “What form?”
“This one.” Her voice was small as she held out a folded piece of white paper. “It’s the permission form for you to work on the garden. Little late, I guess …”
I can’t believe she’s here, outside my house after all these weeks and we’re talking about forms!
I took the paper from her and scanned my eyes down the page.
Maxwell Green is hereby granted permission to work in the heritage garden at 10 Colborne Street, which is protected … blah blah blah.
It had been signed by the mayor of Markham and someone from the Thornhill Public Library that I’d never heard of before.
“Who’s Martha Henry Reid?” I asked, pointing to the second signature.
She laughed at that. But it was a sad, hollow laugh.
“That’s Nana.”
“Your nana’s middle name is
Henry
?”
“It’s a family name. She was named after … um, her mother.”
“Okay, well, thanks for bringing this over,” I said folding the paper back up. “But it’s too late in the year for any more gardening. And, well … I was kind of lying about that, anyway. The fact is I just wanted to dig around without getting in trouble. Sorry I wasn’t honest with you.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything as she tucked the form back into her purse. Her breath was coming out in thin white clouds and I could see that she was shivering from the cold, despite her hat and big puffy coat. If it was anybody else freezing on my doorstep, I’d invite them to come in where it was warmer. But my stomach was still getting battered by having her so close. I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. Since I’d just confessed to one lie, I figured I might as well come clean about the rest of them. She hated me, anyway, so it didn’t matter at this point.
Right?
“So, look …” I said, letting out a long deep breath. “… I guess I should tell you that I also lied about my age. I’m actually sixteen … not seventeen.”
The muscles in her face tightened, like she was trying to hold something back. Was she pissed off at me for lying? Or at herself for wasting so much time on a kid? Why wasn’t she saying anything? Man, she must
really
hate me. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard, I tasted blood. That’s how nervous I was.
“And I’m a sophomore in high school, not a senior …” I continued, digging my hole even deeper.
A gust of wind blew across the porch, sending the first tiny snowflakes of the year whipping through the air. Peanut licked his lips and whined softly. After a few more seconds dragged by with no reply, I figured Caroline’s thoughts were pretty clear. It was time to put her out of her misery.
“So, thanks for coming. I guess I’ll see you around …”
Just as I was about to swing the door shut, she took a small step forward and reached out to stop me. “No, don’t. Please. I … I lied to you, too, Max.”
She’d been lying, too? About what?
My mind started spinning in frantic circles. “W-what do you mean?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor and her pretty lips turned down into a sad pout. “God, there’s just so much you don’t know. I’m not even sure how to begin …” she closed her eyes as her words trailed off, “… I’m not the age I told you I was, either. You’d never believe me if I told you how old I truly am. And my name’s not really Caroline.”
My mouth fell open with shock. “What did you say?”
That’s when she started to cry. I stood there like a complete idiot, not knowing what to say or do. Why had she lied about her name? And why was she crying? I didn’t understand any of this. I was aching to comfort her, but had no idea how. After a long moment, she lifted her eyes back to mine. They were as blue as a cloudless sky and filled with tears. “I … I was just trying to help bring you into the library,” she whispered, her voice shattered like broken glass. “I didn’t expect these feelings. Dear God, it’s been so long since I felt this way. And then when you stopped coming, I felt like dying all over again. I … I guess I just needed to see you one more time.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What are you talking about? I … I thought you hated me.”
“Hated you?” she let out a wry laugh. “No, just the opposite. I liked you. I still like you … a lot.” Her chin was beginning to quiver, like she was about to start sobbing again. If a brick had fallen on my head at that moment, I probably wouldn’t have felt it. How could I have been so wrong about everything?
And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a grey minivan pull up in the driveway. It was my mom.
Crap! I’m not ready for this conversation to end yet
.
Reaching behind me, I yanked my jacket down from the coat rack.
“Honestly, I don’t care about the lies. I don’t care what your real name is or how old you are. I just want to be with you … but my mom’s here.” I threw my arms through the sleeves. “If we stay, she won’t leave us alone. So maybe we can go somewhere else to talk for a while?”
She shook her head sadly. “No, I can’t do that. I really have to go. I just came here to see you one last time … and to give you this.”
Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a little, flat box. “After they finished digging around the rest of the garden, they found this not far from the … you know, the bones. They offered it to the library, but Nana didn’t want it. So I figured it would be all right if I gave it to you.”
“What is it?” I asked, highly aware of my mother watching us from the driveway. By the shocked look on her face, I was sure she was dying to find out the identity of the pretty blonde on her front porch.
“No, please don’t open it yet … wait till after I go.”
I shook my head. “What? Where are you going?”
Her eyes looked like they were melting with sadness. “Far away,” she whispered, wiping a stray tear out of the corner of her eye. “But there’s something I’ve been dying to do … something I’ve been thinking about since the day we met.” A pair of blood-red roses were blooming across her pale cheeks.
“What is it?”
Rising up on her toes, she brushed her lips against mine, gentle as a feather. I was too stunned to do anything else except stand there like a statue and breathe in her awesome smell. She was so incredibly soft. Her lips, her mouth, her skin … so soft, but so icy cold at the same time. I put my arms around her and pressed my hands to the curve of her back. I wanted it to last forever — but the kiss was over before it had barely begun.
“Goodbye, Max,” she whispered into my lips.
Goodbye?
I opened my eyes and she was gone. Disappeared.
What just happened? Where did she go so fast?
A sudden frigid gust of wind surged across the porch, stirring up a cloud of snowflakes. I peered through the flurry, searching for Caroline — but there was just Peanut whining at my feet and my mother’s angry face charging up the driveway toward me.
“Max! Why are you standing there with the door open, letting all the heat out of the house? Why is there a dog on our porch? You know I’m allergic! And did I just see you talking to yourself? Honestly, your father and I are having a hard time understanding your behaviour these days! You’re not doing drugs, are you? Is that what’s in that box?”
Ignoring my mother’s questions, I glanced down and saw that I was still holding the box Caroline had given me. With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid. What I saw inside made me choke on my own breath. There, nestled on a ball of white cotton was a small, silver gadget, with four little wings sticking out and a withered orange feather attached to the end.
The lure.
21 - John
My cousin William went on to marry Martha Henry a few months later and open up his own blacksmith shop, exactly as planned. Although nobody remotely suspected that he might have had a hand in my disappearance, the guilt he felt over what he had done ate away at his conscience like a cancerous mass. Just five years into their marriage, the young couple succumbed to a deadly epidemic of typhus that was winding its way through Kingston. On his deathbed, William unburdened his soul and confessed his crime to his pretty wife, who was only days away from her own death. They left behind a young daughter, who’d inherited her mother’s sky-blue eyes along with her name.
It brought me a surprising amount of grief to see William and Martha meet such a tragic end.
As for my parents, they waited over a year for me to return home. My mother spent most of that time crying, moaning, calling out my name, and praying for my safe deliverance from whatever dark forces might have led to our separation. My father, as you might imagine, tried his best to convince Mother to begin the grieving process so that she might forget about me and move ahead with her life. It took many months, but finally my mother stopped watching at the parlour window for my face to emerge outside. She stopped listening for my footsteps coming up the front walk. She accepted that I was gone. And by the first anniversary of my mysterious disappearance, Mother donned her black veil and mourning dress and began to pray for my everlasting soul.
For she knew in her heart that I would never have willingly left her without saying goodbye. After so much time had passed, my absence could only be explained in one horrifying way. Tragically, however, she had no way to prove that I was deceased. And so my dear mother was forced to mourn alone.
In 1890, she agreed to let Father move them to another house. But she never gave up the hope that she would see me again one day — even if that meant reconnecting with my soul in the afterlife. Desperate to uncover the truth about what had happened to me, she brought in a medium and conducted a séance one afternoon when Father was away working in the forge. I watched the whole thing and tried in every possible manner to send a message to let her know what had happened to me. But the veil of darkness that had come over me was so heavy and dense; I could simply not get past it.
Not until now, that is. Not until a boy came along whose emotions mirrored my own so well that a small window slid open in the darkness and allowed a bit of me to slip through to reach him. Lured in, as you have guessed, by the ghost of a pretty young woman who desperately wanted to help right a husband’s tragic wrong.
Last week, my remains were laid to rest in a proper grave in the Thornhill Community Cemetery on Church Lane, just a short walk away from 10 Colborne Street. The plot was marked with a simple, grey marble headstone. Although it doesn’t bear my name, the stone is engraved with a prayer and that satisfies me. For now, everyone who passes by will be aware of a young life that came and went. And perhaps now that I have been discovered, my dear mother will be able to see me. And both of our spirits will find peace. For that is all I ever wanted, really.
That is all one can ever hope for in this world.