Date: Wed, 16 Oct 1996 08:10:31 MDT From: Robyn Meta Herrington Subject: SUB:CONTEST: Jenny I lied. There *was* one more. . . Robyn -------------------------------------------------------- Jenny "Jennifer, quit sulking" Catherine scolded her daughter from the front seat of the family car. In the back seat, Susan tried keep from laugh out loud at her sister. The teenager, next to her, glared balefully at her little sister. "I don't see why I can't take Drivers Training, Mom," With a toss of her jet black hair, Jennifer ignored Susan's suppressed giggles. "I'm not going to discuss it," Catherine was abrupt. "Catherine," the girls' father interceded in mild tones. "Jennifer is sixteen. Most teens her age are learning to drive." "Not Jennifer," Catherine's voice had a distinct edge. Her husband sighed. This was not turning out to be a wonderful trip. Susan seemed the only one in a good mood. Catherine and Jason had started arguing about Jennifer taking Drivers Training ever since the girl had broached the subject earlier in the week. The car turned onto the tree lined street where Catherine had grown up. Jason drove into the driveway of a white two-storied house in the center of the block. He stopped the car in front of the garage. As Catherine got out of the car, she gazed up at the house of her childhood. Susan saw the look on her mother's face and followed her gaze. A curtain fluttered at the window of room on the second floor. Catherine frowned. So did Susan, puzzled. No one used that room. It could only have been her grandma, maybe dusting the room. "Hello, Catherine, Jason, girls," her grandma's voice called from the front porch where she stood in the open door. Susan was saddened at the frailties her grandma exhibited. She glanced back at the window, the curtain hung unmoving. She shook her head, she must have imagined it. She always did when she came to Grandma's for a visit. "Hi, Grandma!" She dodged past her mother and raced up the porch steps to hug her Grandma. Jennifer and her parent followed them into the house. The living room was warm and comfortable. A dedicated crocheter, Grandma had afghans decorating the sofa, all the chairs and a quilt rack purchased just to hold afghans. Grandma had evidently been crocheting when they arrived, an unfinished afghan lay on one of the recliners. "I really don't have the energy to do much yet," Grandma apologized for the dust coating the tables. "Since the pneumonia, I don't seem to want to do much of anything, except sit and crochet. Even that is tiring." "Don't worry about it, Mom," Catherine slipped her arm around her mother's thin shoulders. "That's why I'm here. I'm going to do your housework until you fully get over this bug." "Thank you dear," Grandma sounded dispirited. "Actually, I haven't been sleeping well at night. I can hear the piano so plainly from my bedroom." Her daughter and son-in-law exchanged concerned glances. "The piano?" Susan repeated. "Who else in the family plays the piano?" "I don't know, dear," Grandma quavered. "It always stops before I get into the family room." Susan lay wake that night. Suddenly, she realized that she could hear music. She sat up, scared. Her Grandma's statement of how the music kept her awake came back. Grandma heard the piano when no one else was in the house. Susan wasn't sure that someone was playing a joke. They were sure playing the piano. In fact, they were playing it well. Susan wished that she could play as well. Her piano teacher would be pleased. Maybe the jokester could give her some pointers on how to play well. To get that advice, Susan needed to talk to the piano player. Quietly, Susan got out of bed, intending to find out who was playing the piano for herself. She tiptoed to the door of her room and peeked out. The entire upper floor was in darkness. Susan moved silently into the hall and paused. There was no sound from her parents' room. Their door was ajar and she peeked in. Moonlight spilled into the shadowy room, from the door to the balcony opposite from Susan. It flowed over her parents as they slept. Susan turned and moved soundlessly down the hall to pause outside Jennifer's room, next to her own. Jennifer didn't stir when her sister peeped around the door. Satisfied that none of them were playing the piano, Susan moved to the top of the stairs. Susan could see light through the banister halfway down, as she crept down the stairs. Someone was in the family room. She peered through the banister, as soon as she reached it. Susan frowned, she couldn't see where the light coming from. She looked at the piano at the opposite corner of the room. There was a strange girl seated there. She played softly without music in front of her. Obviously, the tune was one she knew well. In Grandma's bedroom, across from Susan, alight flashed on. The girl spun to look at Grandma's door, her black ponytail swinging. The light disappeared. Grandma came out of her room and looked at the piano. Susan looked too, to find that the girl was gone. Frightened, Susan darted silently back upstairs to her room. She dove under her covers and huddled there, praying for morning. "Good morning, Susan," her father said when they met outside their respective bedroom doors, the next morning. Susan decided that she must have dreamed the piano playing stranger. "How did you sleep?" "OK, I guess," she replied. Then, she found herself telling her father about the girl she had seen, the night before. They walked down the stairs to the kitchen with Susan humming the tune she'd heard last night. "Yesterday," her father said. "That's the tune. The Beatles did it in the sixties." Susan nodded. She'd heard the song before. She liked it. "That was your aunt's favorite song." "Aunt?" Susan repeated. Her father looked guilty. "Don't mention her," he cautioned, "to either your Grandma or your Mom." He clattered on down the stairs before Susan could question him further about the aunt she'd never heard of. Susan sat up in bed. It was after midnight and the piano was playing again. She hadn't imagined it last night. She got out of bed. Out in the hall, she froze as she caught sight of a figure poised to go downstairs. She relaxed when she saw it was only her father quietly creeping down the stairs before her. She immediately felt better. The piano player was the same teenager from the night before. Susan watched as her father stepped into the family room. She followed him. "Hello, Jenny," he said. The girl at the piano spun around. "Don't go onmy account," he smiled. She relaxed. "Hello, Jason," she smiled, sheepishly. "I forgot that it's Halloween today. I become visible to everyone today." Jason looked around. "Is George here?" he asked. "Dad? No," Jenny looked surprised by the question. "He's gone. The dead don't usually hang around, you know." "You're here," he pointed out. "Only because Cathy can't let me go," Jenny replied. "She still hasn't accepted my death." "My poor baby," Susan jumped as her grandmother joined the group. "How alone you must feel." "Poor Cathy," Jenny corrected. "I always knew I was loved. That's why Cathy can't let me go. She loves me." "Dad," Susan said. "Should I go get Mom and Jennifer?" Jason thought for a moment. He didn't want to disturb his wife. He shook his head. "No, let them sleep," he told his daughter. "Jennifer'll be mad," Susan said, not without relish. "First Mom won't let her learn how to drive, now you won't let her meet a ghost." "What!?" Jenny demanded. "Not let her drive! Oh, brother!" She darted out of the room. "Cathy!" she yelled as she bounded up the stairs. "Wake up, we gotta talk!" Unwilling to miss anything, Susan followed. She could hear her father and Grandma following her up as well. In the upstairs hall, a sleepy Jennifer leaped out of Jenny's way. She didn't seem to realize that she was seeing a ghost. At the other end of the hall, Catherine came to her bedroom door and stood staring, stunned. "Jenny?" she gasped in disbelief. "You're not gonna let Jennifer learn how to drive?" Jenny stood belligerently in front of her sister. "Why not?" "You of all people have to ask that?" Catherine was close to tears. Jenny whirled around to face her eldest niece. "Sorry Kid, " she said. "I never realized that my death was going to screw up your life." Jason bit back a laugh. Jenny turned back to her sister. "Jennifer is not me," she said in a gentler tone. "There is no reason to think that what happened to me is going to happen to her." "If I hadn't let you drive," Catherine said, tears sliding down her face. "If I had been driving.." "You'd be dead," Jenny interrupted. "I'd be forty with or without kids. Certainly, your kids wouldn't be here." Her voice softened further. "Cathy, it wasn't your fault. I've even forgiven the drunk. He's dead, by the way. Ran his car into a tree. Drunk again, of course. Suspended license, but then it was suspended before he ran into us." "He killed you," Cathy whispered. "There was nothing you could do," Jenny replied. "Let go, Cathy. You're letting it ruin your life and Jennifer's." "Our Jennifer is a lot like you," Jason interjected. "Susan is the musician, but Jennifer is physically like you." "I know," said Jenny. "I've watched them whenever you've come here." "Who are you?" Jennifer spoke up for the first time. Susan thought that her sister had been silent up to then more from sleepiness than anything else. "She's our Aunt Jenny," Susan told her, gleefully. She was thoroughly enjoying the situation. "She's a ghost!" "I died when I was sixteen," Jenny informed her nieces. "I was driving on a Learner's Permit when we were hit broadside by a drunk driver. Your mother was with me." She looked at her sister. "You will let Jennifer learn to drive, won't you? After all, she does look a bit like me, but she isn't me." Catherine stared at her sister's ghost. "It's just..." she began. "Cathy," Jenny said warningly. "I don't want you coloring your life with the tragedy of my death. It's in the past. I never blamed you. Don't let my death ruin Jennifer's future." "If she promises to be careful whenever she's behind the wheel," Catherine capitulated. She gazed tearfully at her sister. "Jenny, I..." "Let it go, Cathy," Jenny said softly. "Let me go." "I can't," Catherine whimpered. "You're my baby sister." "No, I'm not," Jenny answered. "I haven't been a baby for a long time. It's OK to stop grieving now. It's been OK for a long time!" "I'll try." "It's too bad Jenny's not still here," Jason grunted as he shifted the Christmas tree. Susan danced around him and the tree with excitement. "She could play Carols on the piano." Susan laughed as her mother gave her father a playful jab in the ribs. "She's at rest now," Catherine said. "Like she should be." -- -------+++++++-------+++++++ +++++++-------+++++++------- Robyn Herrington Operations Manager, Microforms Services University of Calgary, MacKimmie Library Ph: (403)220-6903 http://www.ucalgary.ca/~rmherrin rmherrin@acs.ucalgary.ca -------+++++++-------+++++++--------------+++++++-------+++++++-------