House, Revisited
Sam drove this time. There wasn’t anything on the trip that could be identified as different, but that didn’t change that it felt changed. The destination had evolved in character based on its past. Sam said that he wondered how many homes had a history somewhere of someone dying in them. People die every day, every minute. Maybe some high percentage of houses held at least once a human shell that gave its last breath naturally, or otherwise.
Elsie said it made sense that such things weren’t passed on to potential buyers, and that so far, it hasn’t made much of a difference in how homes panned out for new families. Maybe, she suggested, the only ghosts in a new home were the ones brought with them by the new owners.
They turned right onto Trail View Drive, taking it slow, looking at each house as they passed it, thinking that each had a story to tell…actually, many stories. They pulled into the house’s driveway, and sat there, looking at it.
“Sam, that thing about the house being wounded. How do you go about healing a house?”
“I don’t know if you can. Maybe what we have to do is help it close the last page in one chapter and start another. Look at it. The house is empty, a shell. It’s like it’s waiting for a new life, new stories…music and laughter, news reports, pots banging and sounds of Scrabble games.”
Elsie nodded, then added, “New colors on the walls, and pictures. Furniture, towels and mirrors. A few animal hair dust bunnies playing under the bed and couch. The feel of water running through its pipes, electricity through its wires.”
“We can give it that, at least.”
Without warning, a hand rapped on the driver’s window.
“We are so sorry. Are you sure you’re both ok? We had no idea we’d startle you like that.”
Sam was still trying to lower his heart rate. Elsie was practicing her Lamaze breathing and was having trouble speaking, so Sam was elected by default. “No, whew, it’s ok. Just startled us a little, that’s all.”
The neighboring wife responded this time. “A little?! My God, you two screamed like grade B horror flick victims.”
Anne and Gary D’Angelo lived down one lot and across the street. They had seen the older couple the day before, but figured it was just one more failed attempt to sell the old Thurgeson place. “When we saw you come back today, we thought we’d come over and say hi. It’d be great to see the place lived in again.”
Elsie was getting her wits back again. “Did you (huff), know the Thurgesons?”
Gary answered, “Not all that well. The wife was sick from something, and they didn’t seem to want company much. Still, they weren’t cold or anything, just liked their privacy. We chatted briefly from time to time, though, and they seemed nice enough. We didn’t know if they were American-born or naturalized, since their accents were pretty pronounced. German, we thought. Their son used to be around a lot, playing with some of the kids down the street. You wonder how a child can get over that.”
Sam asked how the boy had survived the attack. The couple said he had been away visiting his grandparents at the time, and never did come back to the house. What was his was packed by family friends and delivered to his new home.
Elsie told them they were going inside again and invited them to come along with them. You could tell that the couple was a bit nervous about that, but what could they say? They had just told this nice older couple they wanted to see the place lived in again. Being afraid to set foot in the house themselves would seem a bit hypocritical.
Sam assured them, “Don’t worry, we’re a little nervous, too. Strength in numbers?” He went to the door, punched in the code, got the key and opened the door. Thank heavens, he thought, that someone maintained the place. This was no time for creaking hinges. There was plenty of ambient light from the windows, but this time Sam flipped on the light switches. All the lights made their entrance on cue, which was comforting in a way. The damper on the fireplace functioned perfectly. The gas on the stove lit on all four burners and the oven. The fridge was cold, and someone even had put in a few ice cube trays so it wasn’t totally empty. The cupboard doors all opened quietly and latched effortlessly.
One of the drawers had four garage door openers, two for each so that there was a back up. All worked fine, and the garage revealed itself as a great work bench area at least for warmer weather months since the place didn’t have a basement. The water table was too high in this area so close to the Sugar River. Every house on the road that did have a basement also had a sump pump and periodic problems with mould, the neighbors mentioned. The house had forced air heated with natural gas, and the water heater was plenty large enough…it had to be for the monster tub to work out. The paint was in good shape in all the rooms, except for the small white marks where picture nail holes were spackled and sanded.
The D’Angelo’s loved the loft second bedroom and asked if they could rent the hot tub some time. Sam and Elsie said no, but maybe they could get a hot tub wine and cheese party going. Six participants might be possible, though it’d be a bit snug.
The party went into the back yard, which is where Elsie asked about the dog house. A dog had been heard before, the neighbors said, but had been drugged by a piece of meat, courtesy of that burglar. The dog survived, but wasn’t there shortly after. Everyone assumed it had been sent to console the boy over at his relative’s house.
Sam asked about the other neighbors. The visitors told them that most people knew OF each other, like most neighborhoods, but that since the murder they made much more of an effort to know each other. A neighborhood watch had been organized and still continued to keep an eye on things. There had been several occasions where teens, on a dare, had tried to slip into the Thurgeson house. The police were called in on them each time. That was very reassuring to Sam and Elsie.
The D’Angelo’s begged off to get back for their preparations. Her nephew and his new wife were supposed to come over for dinner. After shaking hands and sharing smiles and thanks, Elsie and Sam were once again alone in the house.
“Elsie, remember when you and I talked to our departed spouses?”
“Yes, why? Wait. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to them.”
She wrapped her arms around his. “Ok, I’m ready.”
Sam cleared his throat. “Mr. and Mrs. Thurgeson. We’re Sam Carney and Elsie Partlow. We hope you don’t mind us being here.” Sam nudged Elsie to participate, but her look suggested that he had better be joking…at least for now. “The home you spent time in here is very beautiful. If it is our destiny to be here, we hope you will be happy your old home will be well taken care of by us. I’m pretty good with tools, and will do my best to keep the place tip top.”
Elsie found her nerve. “(squeak…ahem…) And I’d like to put in flowers and a vegetable garden. So, if you’re sticking around waiting for someone right for the place, maybe we are what you have been waiting for. We’ll know very soon, and will tell you as soon as we find out.”
Sam turned off the lights. The place didn’t seem as frightening now. It almost seemed…grateful. They shut the door slowly and respectfully, replaced the key in the lockbox and sat in Sam’s car a bit before leaving.
“Sam, I’m not ready to sign anything, but I’ll admit I feel very positive about this.”
“I’m ready to sign, but you take your time. We’ll do this in its proper time. It’s a good house, Elsie. I think it likes us. I think it needs us, too.”