the decisions of ant colonies were more rational
than those of human house-hunters.
― Hal Herzog
The Gates of the Forest
There's an old saying that goes, to live your life is not as easy as to cross a field. Believe me, I know. I hate decisions.
It's not like me to do something on a whim. I'm not spontaneous and definitely not adventurous. I prefer the familiar and any break in routine makes me feel unsettled.
Hell, I've eaten the same breakfast every day of my life, so I guess you'd say, I like what I like.
But this business about putting in an offer on the house has me freaked out. I'm really outside my comfort zone.
Besides, the owner seems eager to sell. Why?
The place must be haunted, or perhaps some dreadful murder occurred there, or maybe it's on an earthquake fault...
Or, who knows?
That's the problem with decisions―you can never be sure about the consequences. That's why I like the status quo―no surprises.
"For once in your life, be adventurous."
That's what Kate told me over the phone when I expressed misgivings.
But I was adamant about my suspicions.
"I want the owner to sign a disclosure clause that as far as he knows there's no major fault in the construction or pending by-law changes and that no incident occurred there that might hinder the resale value of the property."
"We can do that," she sighs, "but I assure you we've checked out most of your concerns―still, I'm sure the owner will have no objection."
"Then why is he so damn eager to sell?" I ask, exasperated.
She laughs. I hate it when she does that as if implying I'm slow.
"Seems he met the love of his life and she wants to live in Florida. Nothing wrong with the house, Si―the guy loves it and is reluctant to leave, but love conquers all, or so they tell me. "
Yeah, love does conquer all, at least in courtly love stories.
Am I being unreasonable? I don't think I'm being unreasonable. I mean, I loaned her Mollie for the night because she was so spooked. I think I'm pretty understanding since I'm the one who needs a guard dog.
I know who that figure in the woods was―the same one who haunted me after I found Mollie on the Bruce Trail. So why is she back after such a long hiatus? Maybe time is dilatory in the dimension where she resides.
As Yogi Berra said, it's deja vu all over again―why me and why now? And for that matter, why not leave Kate out of it―unless she's jealous there's another woman in Mollie's life...
Or mine, for that matter.
That's just not right―the idea a ghost might have designs on me. It's the old Pirandello theme―illusion versus reality, except I'm not making this up for a story.
But come to think of it, I never make things up, just write them down, so what's the universe showing me?
I kind of like the idea of Mollie and me going back to our old stamping grounds. It'll be nice hiking the Bruce Trail again, even though parts of it are haunted.
I got to admit the idea is growing on me―nights before the fire sipping wine while rain's pouring down outside.
Maybe that's the connection here. My primeval instincts for shelter and survival are coming to the surface and I'm connecting with this woman and the primitive world she inhabits.
My cell buzzes and I see it's Kate again. I hope she's not seeing ghosts at her townhouse now.
"Hey, Si―just updating you on the offer. We may have a problem."
My heart sinks. I was just beginning to warm up to being back in my old Victoria village.
"What's the hang-up?" I croak.
"It's the finances. Even with the owner taking back a second mortgage you don't qualify. Your net income is down from previous years."
"Yeah, I haven't been selling as many listings this year and I'm experiencing writer's block and haven't given my publisher enough material to warrant an advance on my next novel."
Kate takes a deep breath. I can tell she's disappointed, probably as much as I am.
"Tell you what, I'll talk to Lionel Fielding―he's the firm's financial guru. Maybe he can work his magic."
"Thanks, Kate. I appreciate the effort."
"I'm not promising anything, but he may call you if he needs further banking information."
It's embarrassing, but it's the state of the union―I've been coasting on past momentum. Maybe this will amount to a wake-up call for me to get my financial house in order.
A couple of hours later, I'm toying with the idea of barbecuing a steak on the balcony or ordering in a pizza. Before I get to the coin flip, my phone rings and a man's professional voice comes on the line.
"Mr. Radley, this is Laine Edwards. I'd like to talk to you about employment. Is this a good time?"
"Yes, certainly I can spare some time―did Kate refer you to me?"
"No, I'm not aware of anyone named Kate―I'm phoning from the University of Toronto and we've had a sudden opening for a writer-in-residence and you came highly recommended. You worked with Howard Lennox two years ago and he strongly recommends you for the position. Are you interested?"
"I certainly am."
"The only problem is we need to fill the position this week. Would you be willing to commit?"
"Can I assume the remuneration is the same as last time?"
The man chuckled, "Actually, the salary scale has doubled because of a recent strike. Can I consider this an oral contract?"
"Yes. Can you send me a statement of employment along with the yearly salary? I'm presently negotiating a house sale."
"I'll fax it to you now. Welcome to the faculty, Mr. Radley. Gail Ratliff, the Department Chair, will be in touch with you."
I was wondering what the universe was showing me and I think I just got my answer.
Whatever powers that be certainly want me to take that house. This isn't mere serendipity but what Jung called synchronicity―a meaningful occurrence that almost seems mystical or ordained by Fate.
I look at the Department Chair's name I jotted down―Ratcliff. In Old English her name means red cliff―the very place where I found Mollie and where the dark lady appears. This is more than coincidence.
This is written in the stars.