Zeke
I can’t bring myself to leave.
Even after Miss Penny’s attempt to comfort me, I can’t seem to find the strength in me to let Julia go. No matter how final her goodbye was, I just can’t abandon her, not when Amos’s sights are still set so squarely upon her.
I linger in the hallway until the shadows blossom out into darkness. Nobody living has ventured inside for hours, and with a heavy heart, I start to wonder if Julia really has taken my advice and fled.
My aggrieved thoughts drive me toward the living room where I turn on the lights in order to study the photographs of Julia and Jake that line the decorative mantelpiece. She looks happy in some of the earlier ones, but that spark of joy seems to fade in each picture as I move chronologically past the frames.
How I wish I could give her more than this life she’s built with Jake. The cruelty of fate isn’t lost on me as I wonder why we’ve been brought together now, only for us to never truly be together.
I don’t know how much time passes before the crunch of gravel in the driveway alerts me that somebody has come home.
A mix of relief and trepidation claw through me as I hear the familiar tones of Julia’s voice, followed by the clack of her heels against the gravel as she approaches the front door.
The air changes as soon as Julia steps inside the house. I want to see her, but I fear that she’ll hate me even more if she knows I’m here. Still, the longing is too great, so I allow myself to fade into nothing just as she walks into the living room.
Julia stiffens immediately, as though she’s felt the disturbance of my presence in the air.
“Zeke?” she calls tentatively.
It’s my turn to freeze.
Something’s different.
Julia isn’t simply trying to determine if I’m still in the house. It’s like she’s aware of my presence here as I keep my silent vigil over her.
I don’t understand how, but she knows.
There’s no point in hiding now. I’m resigned for what’s to come, be it fear or rage. I’ve lied to her and hidden the truth. I ca’t blame her for being upset with me.
Summoning the power, I take form in front of her, coalescing from the shadows until I appear as solid as the walls around us.
Julia’s mouth falls open in a gasp of disbelief. Her wide eyes shine in the soft light. I expect her to scream, but she doesn’t.
“It’s really true,” she whispers in a voice hushed with awe. “You’re…”
“Dead,” I finish for her.
I can practically hear the gears of her mind turning. One hand reaches for me and comes to rest on my chest, directly over my heart. I know she can feel no beat there, no rhythm of life.
“You’re a ghost,” she murmurs, her tone filled more with wonder than the disgust I’d so feared. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I bring my hand up, ensconcing her slim fingers in my own. “I wanted to,” I promise. “But I didn’t know how.”
A bolt of anger flashes through her eyes. “You should have told me.”
“Would you have believed me if I had?” The words are harsh, but my tone is soft. “How did you figure it out?”
“Helen’s husband showed me a photograph. You were in it, but it was taken in 1931 just before you… you died.”
She tilts her head down as she steps into me, her cheek coming to rest against the flat plane of my chest. I don’t have much energy left, but I’ve got enough to wrap my arms tightly around her, holding her to me.
“You’ve been watching over me this whole time,” Julia murmurs into the fabric of my shirt. Hot tears seep through the cloth, and I realize that she’s crying.
“I’ve tried to keep you safe,” I say as I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Even if you can never trust me again, please believe that I’ll do anything in my power to keep Amos from hurting you.”
She draws back slightly to stare up at me with those shining green eyes. She searches my face as though she’s trying to find any dishonesty there. The fire that burned so brightly within her this morning is back, a single ember that quickly flares in the space between us.
I need her to know that I’m sincere.
Without dwelling on it, I close the distance between us and catch her lips with my own.
Julia instantly melts into my embrace. I’m drunk off the taste of her, and I want more. I nip at her bottom lip, begging her silently for permission. Her mouth parts for me, and I swallow up her moans as my tongue dances with hers.
But even as we kiss, I can feel her body sinking more deeply into me, through me.
Reluctantly, I pull away. Her heated gaze catches mine as I take a step back. I know she can see that my form is no longer entirely solid, but it doesn’t seem to scare her.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, inexplicably ashamed.
“This is why you said you wouldn’t come with me, isn’t it?” she asks. Her tone is gentler now and tinged with sadness.
I nod. “I only have power here in the swamp, and even that’s limited,” I say. “My spirit is tied to this place. If I leave, I’ll fade away to nothing.” It’s a bleak reality, but it’s the truth.
“But what about your grave? Can’t you go to wherever the workmen reinter you?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I sigh. “Those are just my bones, but this is where I died. Without a living body, my spirit can’t leave. But you can, and you should.” It breaks my heart to suggest it, but I won’t be able to bear watching Amos tear her apart.
Julia sags down onto the couch. “I don’t know what’s right anymore, Zeke,” she confesses. I sit down next to her, wishing I could do more to comfort her as she wrings her hands in her lap. “If I leave, I’m admitting that I made a terrible mistake in marrying Jake. But if I stay…”
“Didn’t Helen’s friend help you?” I’m genuinely curious. If there’s a way to get rid of Amos for good, I want to know about it.
She tugs her purse off her shoulder and pulls something out of it. The object is a small, misshapen bottle filled with a dark liquid. It’s sealed with a glob of red wax that’s dripped and hardened down the sides of the glass vessel.
Intrigued, I ask, “What is it?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Julia murmurs. “Helen took me to see a Voodoo priestess. She gave me this potion. Apparently, it’s supposed to bind Amos to whoever drinks it, and then that person’s sacrifice will banish the demon.”
A sour pit of dread pools in my gut. “Sacrifice? As in, somebody has to die?”
Julia buries her face in her hands and shakes her head. Through the gaps in her fingers, she mutters, “It’s horrible, I know.”
“Don’t do it,” I plead. Julia is so sweet and innocent. I don’t think she’d ever be able to hurt anybody. If she’s forced to choose somebody to die, even if it means getting rid of Amos, I think that would break her. The demon, and any sacrifice necessary to fight it, shouldn’t be hers to shoulder.
“I don’t think I can. Who would I even give this to? It’s monstrous. Besides, I don’t even know if it’ll work. Imagine poisoning somebody for some dumb Voodoo spell, all for nothing. I don’t think I could live with myself,” she rambles.
Her words offer me a good bit of relief. At least she’s not seriously considering using the potion. I’d shudder to think what might happen if she did.
“Somebody else can deal with Amos,” I tell her. “You’ve been through enough, and you owe it to yourself to get the hell out of here. Go back to New York or somewhere nice like Florida. Divorce Jake, and forget about me. Be happy.”
“Zeke…”
“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” I insist.
She only pauses for a moment before offering a small, “Okay.”
We sit in contemplative silence for a few minutes. After a while, Julia shifts on the couch so that she’s lying down with her head in my lap. I have just enough strength left in me to comb my hand through her auburn hair, watching as the light plays of the coppery strands.
“How did you die?” Julia asks out of the blue.
I blink. It takes a moment to recall that day. The memory is fuzzy around the edges, yellowed like an old photograph.
“I was electrocuted,” I reminisce finally. “A lot of houses in these parts didn’t have power like they do these days. In remote areas, you’d have to be pretty rich to get the wiring done. The Gregory family had gone for years without it but finally decided it was time. I’d been one of three men to lay the original copper wires down. Only two were left by the end of the day.”
“That’s terrible!” Julia gasps. After a moment of contemplation, she follows up with, “What did it feel like? Dying, I mean, if it’s not too awful of me to ask.”
“After I got over the whole electrocution thing, it wasn’t that bad,” I shrug. “It was kind of nice actually. No taxes, no bills. But it gets boring after a while–and lonely.”
Julia frowns. “But aren’t there other ghosts here too?”
“Absolutely. You’ve heard the children, I think. They’re a mischievous bunch. And Miss Penny’s always around, keeping us all in line. There are a lot more out in the swamp, but they tend to stick to themselves. I think it bothers them that the house doesn’t look the way it used to,” I explain. “Think of it like being stuck in a home with the same dozen people for a hundred years. We’re all pretty sick of each other.”
That gets her to crack a small smile. “And what was your life like before you ended up here?”
A pang of nostalgia hits me as I struggle to remember. “It was okay,” I answer after a moment of thoughtful silence. “Life was nothing special, but it was mine. I’d come down from New Orleans. I’d followed a girl here, actually.”
“A girl?” Julia repeats. Her interest is tinged with the slightest edge of jealousy, and that only makes me want her more.
“Don’t you worry; she’s long gone,” I chuckle. “But she was very pretty and had a quick sense of humor. You remind me of her, actually. She’d come to Hahnville to take care of an elderly family member. I’d been quite taken with her so I’d found myself some work in construction out here, hoping that maybe we’d bump into one another in town.”
“Did you?” she prods.
“No,” I sigh. “It was only my second day on the job when it happened. I never did see her again.”
Julia stares up at me sadly. “That’s so tragic.”
“It is,” I agree. “But think about it. If I hadn’t died in 1931, then we’d never have met.”
“Silver linings,” Julia murmurs.
She doesn’t ask any more questions. Instead, she closes her eyes, clearly relishing the feel of my fingers weaving through her hair. After a while, her breathing evens out, and I realize she’s fallen asleep.
Using up the last of my strength, I slip out from under her, taking great care not to wake her. I pull a crocheted quilt off the arm of the couch and spread it over her prone form.
Before I fade, I lean down and kiss her gently on the lips.
Even though she can’t see me, I’ll still be here watching over her.
I’ll protect her, no matter what the future holds.