The Stone House

5.

I was heart-broken. Of course I was. But with Catherine shutting down I had to do my best to keep our small crop going and care for Penelope. Penelope understood that Abbey was in heaven, or as Catherine had explained had gone back to the spirit world. What she knew for certain was that the second little metal spring bed in my daughters beautiful room would lay empty forever.

I read Penelope a story and kissed her goodnight. I carried the candle downstairs to try and thought I would try and coax Catherine to eat. As I did I heard the loud rumbling of the train begin. I stopped in the stairway, a lump in my throat.

I must be strong for my family. I blinked rapidly fighting tears as the rumbling got louder.

I forced myself down the steps as the train reached its crescendo, walking into our living room to see Catherine, black hair lank and loose and in her long white gown stood at the window staring out towards the tracks. As the train passed she jerked back, one hand to her hair another pointing out the window. She let out a horrible desperate scream as the train roared past and she fell back, like something had shoved her back from the window.

I was at her side within a moment, holding her face.

"Catherine," I said. "Are you alright?"

"I saw her." She said. "I saw Abbey on the tracks. A man was holding her." Her face creased up like an ugly mask and she began to cry again in huge sucking sobs.

I pulled her up into my arms and carried her to the couch and stayed with her until the sun rose.

***

Catherine begged me to believe her and I promised I would wait with her that night. We waited for the sun to set and for the train to come. We stood together holding hands in the dark. I heard the deep rumble of the train and my wife's grip began to turn vice-like in my hand as she stared out the window and down the tracks. Eventually it arrived, a hulk of murderous steel careening past our home. My wife pointed with a cry.

"Don't you see her?" She screamed at me.

"No, Catherine, I don't!" I cried out and tried to catch her fists as they pounded on my chest.

I could not stay up another night. I lay down, exhausted.

But Catherine did not recover. Did not rouse from her nest of sheets and covers on the couch and did not speak. Staying downstairs that night, and another, and a week and each night wailing and screaming as the train went past.

I tried to coax her to come up to our bed but she refused.

We still needed to be parents to Penelope. She had been withdrawn as any child would be. Always quiet Penelope too had gone near-silent now. I went to check on her, back late after my day in the fields to find her up in her and Abbey's room, candles lit, and engrossed in her drawing.

"Come on sweetpea," I said. "It is time for bed."

She ignored me continuing to scribble. "Come on darling" I said, bending over to pick her up. As I did I saw what she was drawing. The stick figure of a girl on the tracks and stood beside her was something in the shape of a man made of black scribble.

"What's that?" I said pointing at the scribble, a horrifying inkling in my mind, my mouth dry in fear.

"It's Abbey's friend." Penelope said.

I snatched the picture away. "Penelope what do you mean?"

She started to get upset, throwing herself onto the bed. "I'm sorry!" she said.

I held her. She was doing what any child would do. Catherine had not been discreet in her screaming and poor Penelope must have been terribly affected.

What child wouldn't want to believe in their mother? It was natural... but un-natural at the same time.

But this could go on no longer. We had lives to live.

That day I decided to block our living room window.