us with an insight into what haunts our culture.
―Andrew Smith.
Century House
I always thought ghosts were sentimental beings clinging to us through sheer longing, but as with other aspects of life I tend to be subjective, so I reserve the right to be wrong.
I don't know if houses are haunted as much as people but I guess that's what's going on here and Kate just hasn't settled her nerves enough to talk about it―which is fine, as far as I'm concerned, because when it comes to being haunted, I've been there, done it and bought the tee shirt.
What else do you call a dream girl you spend every night with but can't remember the details? Well, besides being frustrating, haunted seems the operative word.
Mollie is guarding Kate, sitting at her feet and occasionally leaning against her―that's how she hugs us. I find it charming.
I mentioned I found her by an ancient cliff when out hiking. I didn't explain how I almost lost her again when her owner came calling. Okay, I call the the spectre who took her, her owner, but I don't know for certain. All I know is that it was twilight at that sacred place and Mollie just disappeared with her.
And I call her a spectre for want of a better word. I saw the woman, always from a distance and always at dusk. She was definitely ancient and belonged to a world that existed long before this one.
You see, even talking about it now gives me bumblebees in my head. Golden Retrievers are not an ancient breed, so how did Mollie and this woman have a connection?
The weird thing is when I thought Mollie was gone forever, she showed up one day at my back door, groomed and wearing a braided collar with white stones embedded in it. Oh, and she had a feather attached to it and a red stain on her fur.
I sensed it was connected to that ancient landscape and it was confirmed by an anthropologist I contacted at the university where I was writer-in-residence. Her name was Lindsay and she was insightful, but I thought she over-emphasized the mystical.
"They're mysterious zones, these ancient trackways, Si. You may think I'm being superstitious but these natural junctions divide the magical from the mundane and crossing from the civilized world to the wild can often initiate you into a kind of different dimension."
To say I rolled my eyes would be an understatement, but she ran an analysis of the collar, the feather and stones and even the red stain. She was thorough, I'll grant her that.
What shocked me were the results. She was solemn when she told me the details.
"These molars you thought were white stones are actually mastodon teeth."
"Should I be impressed?" I said facetiously.
"Well, I am," she parried, "because the mastodons went extinct 10,000 years ago and any fossils I've seen are dark with age and permineralized—but these teeth are as white and new as if they were extracted yesterday."
It turned out the red stain on Mollie's fur was red ochre, an ancient pigment primitive peoples mixed with water and painted on cave walls.
"Mind you," she added, "there's evidence these ancient peoples often painted their faces too, so I guess your female hugged Mollie leaving a trace of face makeup."
That last detail melted my heart. The woman obviously loved Mollie. I resolved we could both share her.
And that's how life went on.
From time to time, Mollie would disappear and a few days later, return groomed. And then it all ended. I never saw the woman again. Maybe she died in that far off time―who knows? Mollie grieved her for a month and then she met Kate.
Who am I to know the ultimate meaning of things? So yeah, Mollie's special―like me, caught between two worlds. And now maybe Kate is being fished in too.
Great! We're all candidates for the looney bin. And I don't even know what spooked Kate but it must have really been something.
"Do you mind if I look around this house?"
"Knock yourself out," she sighs. "Maybe you'd like to list it."
Okay, she's really bummed by something―I mean, to give up a listing? Not like her.
Anyway, I'm not a mind reader so I'm going to wait for her to tell me what's bugging her―but I really like this house. It's right beside the Bruce Trail, a few blocks away from my old townhouse and close to where I first found Mollie.
The house has got everything I like, including a den and fireplace, a huge front porch and it backs onto the nature trail where Mollie and I used to go hiking. It's probably out of my price range, but it's got me thinking.
By the time I get back to the front porch, Kate's calmed down somewhat.
She's rubbing Mollie's ears and the two of them are laughing. That's right―Mollie throws her head back and opens her mouth and we call it laughing.
She also sneeze talks when she gets excited. I'm not sure what that means but she's doing it now because she responds to women's voices.
Yeah, I feel a bit left out, but I'm glad they're having a good time because Kate was getting pretty intense and now she's almost back to normal.
I can't take the suspense any longer, so I cave and ask her. "Are you ready now to talk about what upset you?"
"You know what?" she says colouring, " I feel reaally dumb―I think I overreacted."
"why don't you tell me what happened and let me decide that?"
"Okay, but promise not to laugh―I hate being made fun of."
"When have I ever laughed at you, Kate? I came out as soon as I could because I was worried about you."
She nods and leans back in her Muskoka chair, closing her eyes so she can picture the scene.
"I agree with you about the house, I just love a centre hall plan and the location is fabulous. The place has got everything but for some reason I got spooked. It happened when I went out on the back patio."
"What did happen, Kate?" I ask patiently. "Did you hear or feel something?"
"Yeah, kind of―it was weird. Everything sort of darkened as if the sun went behind a cloud and when I looked out toward the trail behind the lot, there was this woman standing there, just staring at me."
"What did she look like?"
"That's the thing. I can't quite describe it. I could mainly see her outline and she was dressed in some sort of dark clothing or long coat, but I could see her eyes and they were piercing. I got a chill up my spine and I just sensed something was off or wrong―I don't know if that's accurate―maybe not wrong, but very, very strange."
I sat down on the wide wooden arm of her chair and put an arm around her and hugged her tight. She was shaking. I saw her coffee cup was still half full. "Is there a microwave here?"
She pointed vaguely to the kitchen. I grabbed her cup and warmed it, then returned and handed it back to her. "Here, drink this―it'll help ease the shakes."
She cradled it in both hands and slowly sipped at it.
"Do you think I'm being a hysteric?"
I shook my head. "Not at all. I've had some weird experiences myself―stuff I can't explain. What you're feeling is normal."
She squeezed my hand. "Thanks, Si. I think talking about it helped. I'm okay now. You should go back home now. I'm fine."
"No way," I tell her, "I'm here now and we'll spend the time together. I might even be interested in the house, so you can give me your best sales pitch."
"You're kidding, right?"
I simply smile and come right back at her. "You know I don't flatter you to make you feel better. I'm really interested in the house. I just don't know if I could afford it."
Her eyes lit up and she reached for her briefcase. "The owner's really motivated. He may even take back a second mortgage. Let's see what we can work out."
I'm not usually spontaneous but got caught up in her enthusiasm. What on earth am I getting myself into? I mused and then realized, I didn't care. I really wanted the house.