Scene Five
In the morning feelings weren’t much brighter. The Jackson’s were still shaken up by the events of the previous night, but at least most of that fear was dwindling.
“I wish I had gotten a glimpse of the license plate on that van,” Lonnie said.
“I don’t think it had one,” said Bernie. “Besides, if it’s here again next week, we can check then.”
Melody didn’t like the implications of this woman in white being more than a local problem. If outside parties were interested, then it would be harder to get rid of.
What did they want? Was it to study the phenomenon? Then why so secret? Was the government involved? The military?
Mostly though, the item weighing on her mind was the possibility that her family had been the cause of the woman in white being grabbed by the strange creature, possibly with only eternal torment to look forward to.
Bernie slammed a small glass jar and a plastic bottle in front of Melody. “Hey, Rodin!” he said.
Melody looked at him, shook her head and gave her father a stern look that told him, “why are you interrupting me?”
“Jam or syrup on your waffles?”
“I don’t care!”
“I’ve been talking to you for five minutes.”
“Fine. I’ll have jam.”
“Strawberry or seedless blackberry?”
Melody’s eyes narrowed in frustration.
“Strawberry it is,” Bernie said, and began to spread the thick berry blend on top of Melody’s toasted honeycombed cakes.
“I still think it’s our fault,” Melody said, suddenly.
Bernie winced as though in pain. “This conversation was going so well, too,” he said, shoving a larger than appropriate portion of waffle into his mouth. “Wha whas?” he tried to say.
“The woman in white,” she clarified.
“I'm afraid you’re probably right,” Lonnie said, and Bernie shot her a look. “But I’ve also been thinking about it, and I think she still might be okay.”
Melody cocked her head to the side, and made a whimpering dog sound, and then her eyes grew large. “Oh, you might be right,” she said.
“But I haven’t even said it, yet,” Lonnie said, frowning.
“The looping nature of the event. When we interfered, we completely changed it from its former loop. It changed this time because we stopped her from running out of her house. Next week, the event should repeat again just as before.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was going to say, alright,” Lonnie said, sighing. “But it took me all night to figure it out.”
“Don’t worry, mom,” Melody said, turning her attention to her waffles. “My synapses are younger.”
“Yeah,” Bernie said, tapping his wife on the knee. “Your synapses are all old and rotten.”
“That still leaves the matter of that mysterious van.”
“I’m hoping it was Scooby and Shaggy,” said Bernie.
Melody sighed and shook her head. “Unlikely that it will be your cartoon heroes,” she said. “Besides if they were real people they would be dead by now.”
Bernie began to tap his fork on his plate as though banging on a war drum.
“I'm hoping,” Melody continued. “it was just some group of ghost hunters making a television show, or something dumb like that.”
Bernie nodded. “Yes,” he said, half smiling. “That would make everything better,”
Lonnie, now standing, picked up her now waffle-free plate and placed it in the sink. “Well,” she said. “I think we should head over to the library, or maybe even stop by the Historical Society when y'all are done. I want to look up Madeline D’amarite. Nothing about her came up on the Internet."
“Did you spell her name right?” Bernie asked.
“Yeah, mom, maybe we should ask the ghost to spell it out next time.”
Bernie snorted, but continued eating. “We should look up what used to be there before it was just an empty field, too.”
“All very good suggestions,” Lonnie said.
“I’ll talk to the boys, too. Maybe they have a bead on that unmarked van.”
“Well I’m going to eat the rest of these waffles and watch some television,” Bernie said.
“You’re going to take a shower and come with me to the library,” Lonnie told him.
“When, exactly,” Bernie said, “did we become the Jackson Family Detective Agency? I was hoping to relax this weekend.”
“When the ghost calls, you have to answer,” Lonnie said.
Bernie smirked. “Who says?”
Melody smiled at him. “Every horror movie ever made.”