“Do you see her, Joe?” Alan called. He didn’t take his eyes off the stairs. “Joe?”
“She’s gone,” Joe said from right behind him. Alan jumped.
“You don’t see her anymore?” Alan asked. Joe took his hand.
“No, Dad. She disappeared when you went up the stairs.”
“Disappeared how? Did she go upstairs or something?”
“No,” Joe said. “She just disappeared. Like evaporated or something. It was weird.”
Alan and Joe stayed in the kitchen. Joe worked on homework and Alan started some leftovers heating for dinner. All the doors were closed and locked, and Alan had searched the house. He was sure they were alone, but every time they heard a noise, they froze. Alan, with Joe at his back, returned to the stairway several times. He was armed with a long piece of wood he’d found in the shed. They found nothing.
Liz came up the drive and left her car outside the shed.
They heard her banging on the door.
Alan and Joe went down the hall and let her in.
Liz hugged Joe. “Are you okay?”
“We’re fine, Mom,” Joe said.
“Tell me what happened. There was a woman here?”
“Come inside,” Alan said. He closed and locked the door behind her.
Alan herded his small family to the kitchen table. He and Joe told their story. She held her hands to her chest as they spoke. Alan couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to the dining room doorway as he spoke.
After they finished the story, Liz didn’t speak for a full minute.
“Did she say anything?” Liz asked. She sounded choked up. Her eyes were still dry.
“No,” Alan said. “Like I said, I thought I heard her make a noise, but she didn’t say anything.”
Liz pushed back from the table and turned. She was through the dining room before Alan could object.
“Liz!” Alan called. He grabbed Joe’s hand and led him after her. They saw her pounding up the steps. Alan paused at the bottom, looked at Joe, and then led his son up the steps after Liz. All the lights were on up there—they’d turned them all on when they’d searched the house earlier. They both sidestepped the middle of the stairs, sticking close to the bannister. The door to the master bedroom was open. Alan and Joe went through. They looked in the big closet, the bedroom, and the bathroom. Liz was gone.
“Liz!” Alan called.
They heard feet clomping down steps and she appeared from the closet.
She had a shoebox in her hands.
“Where were you?” Alan asked.
“I’ll show you later,” Liz said. She sat on the edge of the bed and put the shoebox down on the bedspread. Liz tucked her stray hair behind her ears and then lifted the lid.
Alan sat on the edge of the bed on the other side of the shoebox. Joe sprang to the middle of the bed. Alan noticed that his son was careful to not step too close to the edge of the bed where something might reach out from under the bed skirt.
“What is that?” Alan asked.
“I’m looking for something,” Liz said. She was setting aside little metal boxes. She handed a small cardboard box to Alan. He opened it and recognized the thing immediately. It was a little plastic slide viewer.
Liz opened one of the metal boxes of slides and flipped through them. She stopped at one with pencil writing on the white margin. She handed the slide to Alan.
The pencil marks read “Emily.”
Alan slid it into the viewer and held it up to the light.
The scene was of their own front porch—the three granite slabs that made their front steps. The white house with the year 1852 above the door was unmistakable. There was a woman sitting on the porch. She had short hair and was looking away from the camera with a sly grin on her lips. She wore a red patterned dress with lace at the neck and wrists.
“Can I see?” Joe asked.
Alan’s numb hand passed the viewer to his son.
“That’s her,” Joe said with a surprised gasp.
“Now wait, Joe,” Alan said. “We didn’t get a great look. That slide just looks somewhat like her. You can’t say definitively.”
“Alan,” Liz said. “Come on.”
“Come on what? That photo is of your mom, right?”
“Yeah,” Liz said. “She’s modeling my great grandmother’s old hoop dress. The Colonel took that photo out front here.”
“I understand that. I’m not sure exactly what that has to do with the intruder we saw today,” Alan said.
“Dad, that’s her,” Joe said. “I recognize her. That’s my grandma?”
“The slide is,” Alan said. He was trying like hell to not raise his voice, but it wasn’t working. “That’s a slide of your mother’s mother—Emily. I’m trying to establish what that has to do with the intruder we saw today.”
“Honey,” Liz said. She put her hand on Alan’s arm. “The image you saw disappeared when you didn’t see her through the screen door. What you saw today wasn’t a real person. It was like a memory of my mother when she wore that dress. The Colonel took some photos of her on the interior stairs as well, but they didn’t turn out. The light was wrong. I don’t think he kept those shots.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts, Liz. It’s just silly.”
“You experienced it, Alan, and you and Joe saw the same thing. Who’s being silly?”
“You’re jumping to conclusions. Suddenly you know it was your mom? You weren’t even there,” Alan said.
“Joe thinks it was Emily. His eyes are better than yours,” Liz said.
“He was farther away,” Alan said. He looked at Joe, who tucked his legs under himself, but didn’t add anything to the conversation. “Until we know more, I want to assume that we had an intruder in our house. We lock the doors, stay together, and sweep the house. Speaking of which, show me where you went before. Did you search that area?”
“Come on,” Liz said. “There’s not much to search.”
Alan closed the bedroom door and then ushered his son along. They followed Liz into the big closet. She pushed aside a set of garment bags that hung from the rod. Behind the bags near the floor, a small panel sat to the side of an opening.
“I assumed that was access to the pipes for the bathroom,” Alan said.
“It is,” Liz said. “It also leads upstairs. It’s a tight squeeze.” She sat down facing away from the opening and pulled herself through. When she stood up on the other side, just her feet were showing. Alan pointed Joe towards the door.
Joe shook his head.
A light came on from inside the hole and they saw Liz’s feet climb away.
“Go on, I’m right behind you,” Alan said to Joe.
“What if there’s someone in there?” Joe asked.
“There is—it’s your mom. Now go.”
Alan went through last. It was tight to get his shoulders through the opening, but after that he was fine. He found himself on the small landing of a very narrow set of steps. He climbed up the steep risers to an unfinished attic. Bare bulbs hanging from collar ties lit the space. The attic had windows at either end and two chimneys intruding through the space. Liz was squatting near a couple of dusty boxes that sat near the barn-end of the attic. Joe stood beside her with his hands in his pockets. Aside from the boxes, the only other thing in the attic was a caned rocking chair with a busted seat. It sat near the window that overlooked the road.
The floor was unfinished planks. One was loose—Alan tugged at it to try to see what was between the attic floor and the living space below.
Liz looked up at Alan. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to see how good the insulation is. Maybe we could save some money this winter if we insulated the living space a little better.”