The Ghosts of Miller's Crossing Read online

  There was a quick vibration from his cell phone and he reached into his pocket to pull it out. Sarah had messaged him she was already home. Edward and Jacob headed home themselves. The drive was filled with the sounds of a father and son reliving the highlights of a great high school football game.

  When they walked inside, Sarah was perched on the sofa watching television and mockingly scolded them for taking so long.

  “Surprised you were home so soon.”

  “Yeah, me too. I thought there would be a party or something after the game like back home… but everyone said we had to get home.”

  12

  “Daaddd!!! Do we have to go to church?”

  “Yes, Jacob. We used to go all the time, and you liked it.” Edward leered at both of his children via the rearview mirror. “You both did.” The family was dressed in their Sunday best as they drove along beautiful country roads on the way to Miller’s Crossing Catholic Church.

  “But that was when Mom was with us.”

  Sarah was right, they had not been back to church since Karen became too sick to go, but Edward knew this would be great for them. “Come on. This will be great. This is the church I attended when I was little.”

  “It’s the only church in town. Everyone goes here.” Sarah had a knack for pointing out the obvious.

  “Yes, it is the only one,” Edward confessed with a somewhat irritated smile as they pull along the gravel-lined driveway leading up to the single-building country church. The white building had a high-pitched roof. The traditional steeple contained a century-old bell that Edward could hear ringing even with the windows rolled up. The rooster weather vane on top showed a slight breeze blowing out of the north.

  The family walked together up the stairs and entered the traditionally-styled church, with high ceilings, exposed rafters, and stained-glass windows lining each wall. There was a large stained-glass scene behind a simple aged-wood alter. The sunlight coming through the windows created a myriad of dancing spots of color on every surface. Edward studied the scenes depicted in each of the windows. In all the churches he had been in before, the glass depicted a biblical scene. As he looked at each of these, he realized none of them represented a traditional Bible scene. None of the pictures depicted a child in a manger, wise men, or Moses leading the Jews. The imagery was more contemporary, showing faceless figures walking toward a cross with light emanating from it, pictures of what looked like a Catholic priest confronting a group of the same faceless figures. He didn’t remember this from his childhood.

  Music from the pipe organ in the front interrupted his study. The procession filed down the aisle from the back. A minute into the intro of the song, Father Murray and the choir walked in. The congregation stood as the processional passed them and, once everyone was up front and in place, Father Murray lead a quick prayer. He then instructed his flock to be seated. The service had hymns, prayers, and two readings, one each from the Old and New Testaments.

  After one more hymn, Father Murray walked over to the pulpit and climbed up the small set of stairs to his perch that overlooked the congregation.

  “Good morning.”

  The congregation returned Father Murray’s greeting. “Good morning.”

  “It is great to see everyone here this morning. It truly warms my heart. Today is a very special day, my friends. I was and am going to give you a sermon about helping others find their way, a topic we talk about often and exercise daily. Now, right here in our congregation, we have an example of someone finding their way back to where they belong. I would like to welcome Edward Meyer, son of Robert and Laura Meyer, and his children back to our flock. Your family has been missing from our house for far too long. It is great to see you back.” A brief applause followed the many heads that turned around and looked toward Edward and his children. Each face warm and welcoming. Edward felt Jacob squirm a little in the pew next to him.

  Father Murray continued his sermon. “These are trying times, but I don’t have to tell you that. The world is full of pain and suffering and they don’t do enough to help ease the pain. We, the faithful, have taken it upon ourselves to help ease that pain. To help guide those that are misguided to find their way in the world, and it is not an easy task. It is a calling of pain and suffering that follows the example Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, set for us. He suffered on the cross as a penance for the sins of man. We have suffered as our penance for our sins and the sins of all men. Like the great Benedictine monk Peter Damian, this is our path toward our own glorious salvation. Also like our Brother Damian, our pain and battle are not only one of the spirit, but one of the flesh, and it takes a toll on each of us. We should not let that toll cause us to become derelict in our duty. Any lapse, even the smallest lapse, can have life or death consequences. Consequences we have already witnessed and suffered.”

  Father Murray paused for a second before continuing with a lower and more compassionate tone of voice. “Consequences we do not want to repeat. It is our solemn duty to help these poor souls, both good and bad, evil and innocent, contrite and hurtful, everyone without judgment. Help them down the path of their destination, no matter the cost. By doing this task, we will bask in the light of our Lord and Savior in the afterlife.”

  Father Murray walked off the pulpit and stood before the congregation with his arms outstretched. “The sacrifice is yours as His was for us.”

  Without prompt, the voices of the congregation echoed in the rafters. “We help others find their way as he helped us.”

  A hymn started, and the congregation stood up and joined the choir in song. Edward looked down at the hymnal to find the right page and then looked at both Sarah and Jacob as he attempted to share the book with them. Each had a fearful look on their face, and neither tried to sing.

  Following the hymn, there was a final prayer before Father Murray dismissed his flock. Even though they were seated toward the back, it took twenty minutes or more for them to reach the door. Scores of individuals stopped by to welcome each of them back to Miller’s Crossing and back to the church. Most talked of how they remembered Edward when he attended with his parents and how much he looked like his father. Several of the older women gushed over Jacob and how much he also resembled Edward’s father. Finally, a familiar arm draped over his shoulder and helped guide him through the crowd and out the door.

  “Thanks, Mark.”

  “Someone had to save you from the chat gaggle. Once they grab you, you’re stuck for hours.”

  Based on his little exposure to them, Edward didn’t doubt Mark one bit.

  “Glad to see you guys joining the church.”

  “Yeah, Father Murray stopped by the school and invited me back the other day. I thought it would be good for the kids. We went often before Karen died.” Edward paused and thought for a second before making the next comment. He was concerned it may seem inappropriate, but that had never stopped him from speaking his mind before. “Mark, I need to ask you a question.”

  “Sure bud, what is it?”

  “What was up with that sermon?”

  “Oh that. Kind of intense, huh? I think Father Murray is losing it a little in his old age. The last few years the sermons have taken a more ‘fire and brimstone’ approach. Maybe he sees his own mortality coming, not sure. All I know is he is comforting.”

  No argument from Edward on that point. A honk in the distance prompted Mark to wave in its direction. “Well, Sharon is waiting in the car. We have a bunch of chores to do around the house today. I need to get going. See you at work tomorrow.”

  “See ya tomorrow, Mark.”

  Edward and his still-stunned kids found their car in the parking lot of the church and headed home. Edward was the first to break the uncomfortable and abnormal silence between the three. “So, what did you two think about church?”

  Jacob said, “It’s not like the one back home with Pastor Mike. His sermons used comic strips and television shows to make his point.”

  Sarah said,
“Yeah, no Marmaduke in this one.”

  13

  Another normal week of school, Edward and Jacob headed into the stadium for another Friday night football game. The opponents this week were the Arendtsville Hornets, the two-time defending state champions. It should be a stiff test for the hometown Lions. With their less-than-healthy food choices in tow, Jacob and his father settled in for a good game. Sarah, like the week before, came with a group of friends.

  The game was as they expected, a real back-and-forth tussle between two evenly matched teams. It appeared the Hornets were just bigger and stronger, overpowering the Lions on both sides of the ball. After the first quarter, they were down by seven. Midway through the second quarter, they were down by fourteen and the groans in the crowd started as it appeared there was no answer to the power running attack of the Hornets. The other side was full of cheers, and the marching band played their fight song for any reason, not just scores. Edward even heard a few parents above him wonder aloud if they play the fight song when the starting quarterback goes to the bathroom.

  Just before halftime, the coaches decided to stop lining up man on man and try a different tactic: speed. When the whistle blew ending the first half, the Lions were on the board with a field goal cutting the lead to eleven. The Hornets spent the second half trying to adjust to the Lions’ fast paced passing and outside running attack. Their size advantage worked against them and appeared to be a step behind the rest of the game. When the final gun sounded, the final score was Lions 24 and Hornets 21.

  This would be considered a signature win for the Lions in most communities, prompting hours of celebration afterward, but not here.

  Just like the week before, the stands and parking lot cleared out moments after the game. Edward received a quick but surprising text from Sarah. It simply stated, “Won’t be home right after the game. They want to show me something. Is it OK?” Edward agreed. A nagging second thought about being naïve, but he dismissed it.

  The drive home was just like the one the prior week. Full of discussion recapping the highlights of the game and the strategy of how the Lions came back. Once home, not having had enough football for one night, Jacob and his father cooked microwave popcorn and settled in on the couch, switching back and forth between two professional preseason games on that night.

  Around 10:30, Jacob fell asleep. He looked comfortable there, so Edward let him lay there until the game was over. Once it was over, he took him upstairs and tucked him into his bed. With Sarah still out, Edward wanted to stay up until she came home, so he settled down on the couch and looked for a movie to watch. With few enjoyable choices, he left it on the 8th edition of an action film he loved. He paid no attention to everyone else who joked they should have stopped after the first movie.

  At 11:00 pm he texted Sarah but received no reply.

  11:30 pm arrived, and still no reply.

  At midnight, the text messages progressed to phone calls that were neither answered, nor went straight to voicemail. His level of worry jumped from nothing to concerned in an instant. Edward wanted to jump in the car and go look for her, but he had no idea where to start. Also, having no idea who she was out with gnawed at him, making him feel like a negligent parent.

  Six more calls resulted in the same response, adding to his panic. Eventually he gave into his concern, grabbed his keys to head out and look for her, but a knock on the door stopped him before he even put his shoes on. He rushed to the door and slung it open. Edward’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Sarah standing there, tears running down her face, and a blanket draped around her shoulders. His mind jumped to the absolute worst as he pulled her inside.

  “Are you all right?”

  She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest.

  “She’s fine, Eddie.” The voice of Sheriff Lewis Tillingsly startled him. The sheriff walked in through the door while taking off his black wide-brim hat.

  “Relax. She isn’t in any trouble. None at all. I gave her a ride home, but I think we should talk privately.”

  Edward felt beyond confused. His sixteen-year-old daughter was just brought home after midnight by the Sheriff, but she was not in any trouble.

  “Sarah, why don’t you go on to your room? Your dad and I need to have a talk.”

  Sarah headed upstairs to her room while her father stood there with his mouth gaping wide open.

  “Why don’t we go into the kitchen and talk? I will try to explain everything.” The Sheriff knew his way around the house and walked through the living room and into the kitchen. When Edward pushed through the door, he found the Sheriff searching through the cabinets. “Where do you keep your coffee? Your ma kept it in this cabinet.”

  He was right, she always kept it in the cabinet next to the refrigerator and above the coffee maker. Edward, however, had things organized a little different. “It’s in the pantry. There’s a box of k-cups.”

  “I should have asked. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Feeling too much in a fog to even care, Edward said, “Not at all.” Then he had a seat at the breakfast table in the nook surrounded by windows.

  The Sheriff walked over to the pantry and pulled out two k-cups. He then retrieved two coffee cups from the cabinet. Edward sat at the table holding his head in his hands, trying to process everything. The Sheriff made two cups of coffee and joined Edward at the table, sliding one cup over to him. “You’ll need this.”

  There was a knock at the back door and Edward jumped, but the Sheriff put him at ease. “It’s okay. Let me get it. I called him.” The Sherriff opened the back door and Father Murray walked in, adding to Edward’s feeling of complete bewilderment.

  “I’m not sure you remember, but your father and the two of us sat at this same table many times talking when you were younger.” Edward had not thought about that before now, but now that he mentioned it, it was one of the more common memories he had of his childhood. The three of them, and maybe a few others, sitting at the table drinking coffee, talking about many things from the town gossip, to sports, and politics. Edward also remembers other times they would be talking, and he would walk into the kitchen. They would all go silent and his father would ask him to move along, that they were talking about adult things.

  “Father, would you like some coffee?” Sheriff Tillingsly offered.

  “No thanks, Lewis. If I have any now, I’ll never get to sleep.” Father Murray turned his attention to Edward. He was quiet on the outside, but anything but on the inside. “Evening, Edward, how are you doing?”

  Edward did not answer as Father Murray placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and took the old wooden seat next to him in the alcove, a chair he had occupied many times in the past. It gave a familiar by haunting squeak on the floor as he slid it back from the table.

  With a high level of exacerbation in his voice, Edward demanded, “Will someone tell me what is going on?”

  Father Murray was first to speak. “Eddie, how much did your father ever tell you about this place?”

  “What do you mean? This house? This town?”

  “The town. Miller’s Crossing.”

  “He and my mother told me lots of stories about their childhood here and I heard a lot about his high school days…”

  “No, not that,” interrupted Father Murray.

  “Father, let me try a different question.” The Sheriff took his seat at the table again and looked across at Edward. “Do you remember when I came by to pick your father up late at night?”

  “I remember that happening several times.”

  “Did he ever talk to you about where he went and what we did?”

  Edward remembered asking a few times. “He just said it was adult things.”

  “Lewis, he was too young. Robert would have never talked to him about any of this.”

  “Eddie, not to play twenty questions with you, but can you tell me if you see things?”

  “Things?”

  “Do you see ghosts?
Spirits? Images of people and creatures you can’t explain?”

  This question more than stunned Edward. It was a fact he had hidden from everyone for years. The last time he told anyone about the visions, they sent him for a mental evaluation. He wondered if they knew of his past, his stay in a mental hospital, and wanted to use it. Maybe Sarah got into some trouble and they are using this to show he was an unfit parent.

  The mental argument going on within Edward was visible to both of his guests. “Eddie, you can tell us the truth. We both see them too. Most everyone in Miller’s Crossing does. It is a gift and a curse of sorts.”

  Staring at the old priest with a blank gaze, Edward tried to make sense of what he had just heard. The Sheriff added, “Your father did as well. So did your mother.”

  “This town is a very important place in the spiritual world. There is no natural explanation for why or how, but this town is surrounded by a very strong energy field that attracts spirits. There are other places all around the world like Miller’s Crossing. Some are more obvious once you know what they are, like Stonehenge and Peak Kailash in Tibet. Others are just towns, like here, and lakes, like Rila Lake in Bulgaria. Most of the other places are rather remote, with not many people around them. We are the lucky exception.”