The Baby Isn't Dead

By Sheila Jecks

The room was almost dark. The only light came from a naked bulb hanging from the middle of the room. The bed was pushed away from the wall and there was a young girl in a white nightgown lying on the bed. Two women and an old man were hovering over her; she was screaming and thrashing around. There was blood all over the girl, the bed, and the floor. The old man holding the knife, turned to the door and looked directly at him.
Joel could feel the cold knife slice through his heart. When he looked down, there was no blood on his clothes, and when he looked up, he was alone.
Terror griped him as the hair on the back of his neck stood up and he ran down the steps and made for the outside door. Before he could turn the handle, the front door opened, something pushed him through onto the porch and slammed shut. He turned and looked back, but couldn’t see anyone standing in the hall through the dirty window in the front door.
Joel sprinted for the car started it up and slammed it into reverse shooting up the road, “well,” he said, trying to sound normal, “it looks just like I thought it would.”
There was no way he was going to tell Sam what he saw upstairs. He needed time to think about it, time to understand.
Trying for normal, he started to talk about the other rooms in the house. “I don’t understand that wall in the kitchen. It was the only one that had snow piled up against it and I checked, there was no way the snow could get in and pile up there, besides, I couldn’t seem to get close to it to touch it and see if it actually was wet, that was really weird.”
I just looked at Joel. Didn’t he see... the house didn’t want him to touch the wall? It was protecting itself from him.
As we drove back to town we talked about the work I had done on the house. Joel finally brought up the cellar door, or lack thereof.
I looked at him astonished that he was so focused on that. There was no cellar door because there was no cellar. There was a low dirt crawl space under the house and there was a trap door in the corner by the ‘wall’ in the kitchen, but there was no cellar window and no cellar door. I hadn’t thought it important to send one of the renovation crew under there as it looked pretty dirty, and besides, what could be under there?
Joel kept his eyes on the road but his mind was racing. He clamped his jaw shut and turned around at the next cross road. Storm or no snow storm he had to go back and make sure of what he saw.
The Volvo skidded and slid into its’ old parking place in front of the house. Joel got out and taking my hand said, “get out; we’re going in there again. You need to see what’s in the upstairs bedroom.”
I hung my head and held back. I didn’t want to see anything in the old house, especially I didn’t what to see what was in the upstairs bedroom. That was the room Kristi had been staying in and I was sure it was haunted by now.
But Joel wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I gritted my teeth and hanging on to his hand for dear life crept up the front steps behind him.
On the porch Joel was prepared to battle the front door again, but it swung open at the first touch. We found ourselves in the front hall and I pushed Joel in front of me as we made our way up the stairs to the bedrooms.
“Now,” said Joel, “is this the room Kristi stayed in? Or was it the other one?”
“Yes, this is the room, I don’t want to look in there this house doesn’t like me anymore. I want to go back to the car,” I whined.
“You’re getting bizarre you know, how can a house not like you. Just look in the room and tell me what you see.”
Joel opened the door wide.
We both stood and looked into the room.
It was empty and forlorn.
Joel took me by the elbow and turned me around and we both ran down the stairs and headed for the front door. We just made it out when the door slammed shut behind us.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sheila Jecks
• Release date: Apr 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476233246

Sheila Jecks

Sheila Jecks is a compulsive writer who specializes in stories that are weird, odd and a little off. The unusual has always intrigued her and found its way into her writing. Her other interests are genealogy, old graveyards and stories told by the pioneers who opened up Canada.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Apparently I spent way too much time away on the job, and not enough in the office where all the action was.

The people who work for me were tiptoeing around trying not to set me off again. I was vacillating between calling the police, the armed forces or the local motorcycle gang to find and dispose of the weasel that broke my heart and single-handed catapulted my restoration company into the trash heap. Almost!

And today I found he was also dipping into the petty cash. I don’t know how I could have been so blind and stupid to believe the stories he told me about all the troubles we were having installing the brick work at the Seaside Aquarium in Vancouver.

Vancouver, BC owes its' beauty to the Pacific Ocean on one side and the Coast Mountain Range on the other. Couple this with the delta of the mighty Fraser River and you have sand, sea and mountains all within an hour or two drive. The people who live in Beautiful BC consider themselves the luckiest people in Canada. Mild winters, summers not too hot, and stunning picturesque scenery. And they also have a fantastic Aquarium that needed an upgrade to the front façade. Just the kind of work my company specialized in.

I know, I'm getting a little carried away with the Vancouver stuff, especially since my business is in Langley, a small town that may some day get gobbled up in Vancouver's urban sprawl. But for now, I'm thankful for work anywhere. My business was finally getting well known for staying in-budget and on time, and now this.

Today, I also found the bills for payment he pushed through Gladys, our girl-in-the-office, without any paper work to justify them.

When I asked Gladys, she said she told me about them and I said, Whatever! so she just paid them and kept her mouth shut.

So much for paying attention to business!

My small Restoration company, Creative Outdoor Design, is my whole life, I started it five years ago, and although it was tough in the beginning I am finally getting bigger and better jobs. The renovated front entrance to the Vancouver Seaside Aquarium is our biggest job yet, and I spent a lot of time designing and overseeing the work. We still had some clean-up to do, but now, I’m not sure if they still want my poor company on the job.

Today, I’m sitting on the patio of my condo in the Riverside Crescent Towers that’s on the fourth floor of the poshest tower on the Fraser River. It stands on the north bank and has a beautiful view of the narrow sheltered waterway between Wolf Island and the small town of Ft. Langley, BC.

But today the view did nothing to calm my angst.

The day started out sunny but had no joy even though it got up to the high sixty’s, but early May on the West Coast sometimes looks warmer than it feels.

What I need is warm air and sunshine for a new start on an old life.

What a bummer!

When I got up this morning I was in no mood to dress for the finer things in life, and grabbed yesterday’s jeans and an old sweat shirt that said, You Have to Kiss a Lot of Frogs before You Meet Your Prince. I’m in the midst of getting rid of a two-timing frog, and I’m not too sure about meeting a prince either.

My formal name is Samantha Elizabeth Lillian Baker, but people mostly call me Sam. Now I know there are times when having a man’s name can get confusing, but I’ve learned to deal with that. What I haven’t learned to deal with is the realization that some men don’t live up to the advertising. All this hooey in the movies and TV about the perfect man, the perfect couple, the perfect life, it all just gives me a migraine.

There are no perfect men!

Just gullible women.

The sun was high overhead and I was still sitting on my patio feeling cold and sorry for myself. My eyes were looking at the email on my computer but I really wasn’t seeing it. I kept drifting, was this my last chance at romance, and if so, did I handle it right?

Actually, looking back at last week, I thought I handled it rather well.

I smiled bitterly and thought of the fiasco I discovered when I walked in on the man in my life cheating on me with the university student I felt sorry for and hired for the summer.

The job I was working on at the front of the Seaside Aquarium in Vancouver had to close down early because of a glitch in the electrical system. I sent the two guys I had working with me home and came back to the office unexpectedly. I found him pants off, bare bum up, on top of the ungrateful girl, and worse yet, spread out on my own desk in my own office! The silly girl didn’t even have the decency to be embarrassed. She just wiggled and giggled off the desk, grabbed her clothes and headed for the back room.

Harry Harper took his time pulling up his jeans and putting on his T shirt. What are you doing here, he said accusingly, you told us you wouldn’t be back for the rest of the day? Without even a sliver of an apology, he picked up his truck keys and said, See you at home, sweetheart.

I grabbed my keys and slammed out of the office. I had to beat him back to the condo.

What a big mistake fourteen months ago when I allowed this miserable maggot to move in with me. What was I thinking?

I had to get home first!

I raced out to the black Dodge work truck I was driving and threw it into gear and headed out of downtown Langley. I floored it as I drove east on the Fraser Highway, careened into the turn on Clover Road and roared through what passed for downtown Ft. Langley. Thank goodness our one Community Cop was having coffee in the local café and was not in his patrol car when I sped by.

I jiggled over the railway tracks that ran through the town and turned into the parking lot of our condo. Brakes squealed as I slid into my parking space. I jumped out of the truck and ran to the main entrance almost tripping as I skidded into the upscale foyer. Old Mrs. Bailey was coming down the staircase and I just missed running over her in front of the water feature in the lobby as I raced to the open elevator and punched the fourth floor button.

My heart was in my mouth as I fumbled for the key, what if he got here first, what’ll I do? He’s 5 feet 9 inches of last year’s muscle; I say that because he hasn’t been doing much exercise standing up lately. It seems most of his work outs have been horizontal. But he still has 100 lbs. and 8 inches in height on me.

When I finally got the door open and looked around, I realized I got here first. Thank God!

Charging into the bedroom I dragged all the clothes from his side of the large walk-in closet and threw them off our little front room patio, right into the rose bushes with the big thorns by the main entrance.

Tsk tsk tsk.

I knew he’d never think to look for them down there; he always used the side door.

The pricey Harley-Davidson Iroquois Skull boots I bought him for his birthday, the sexy designer jeans he bought on my credit card. Shirts, shorts and socks, and everything else I could find went! I only thought a moment, and out went his computer, his I-Pod, his old CD’s, and all his pirated copies of NasCar Racing.

I stormed into the bathroom, grabbed his shaving gear, the Dragon Back Kimono I gave him last Christmas and everything else that reminded me of him. I shoved them all into old Safeway shopping bags, and threw them off the balcony too.

When I stopped and looked around I realized there really wasn’t much of Horrible Harry Harper to throw out. Everything else in the apartment was mine. He’d contributed very little to our shared life.

The overwhelming righteous anger at the faithless action of the man I allowed into my heart and home was starting to morph into bitter humiliation. This love and romance stuff was harder than I thought as a few unwelcome tears trickled down the side of my nose.

I was definitely going to abstain from now on.

No more MEN in my life!

The computer beeping brought me back to the present. I reread the email on the screen and thought, how should I answer this message from my grandma, Elizabeth Friesen? I was kind of named after her, and she never lets me forget I’m her favorite granddaughter. The fact that I’m her only granddaughter doesn’t have anything to do with anything. She usually gets her own way and is not above a little gentle manipulation.

As I sat thinking, I realized life in the small town of Ft. Langley, British Columbia wasn’t going to be the greatest right now. Not since I threw Harry Harper out on his conniving, two-timing, double-crossing ass.

Actually, it was going to be horrible. I was going to be in for a lot of I told you so’s.

My Dad would be happy, he couldn’t stand Harry; and he told me so, often. The guys who work for me will be glad he’s no longer on the payroll; he gave them so much grief. Too bad I didn’t listen a long time ago.

All in all, maybe it would be good to get out of town for a week or two.

The computer beeped again and reminded me to quit procrastinating and get back to the present, I had to stop dwelling on H. H. The email it was nagging about was the favor Grandma Friesen wanted from me. She asked me to go to Saskatchewan to fix up and sell the old family homestead in Prairie View. The email said it wouldn’t take long, maybe two or three weeks at the most. And it would be fun because I’d never been there before. It seemed to be just what I needed. Better to be doing something constructive than sitting here wallowing in self- pity.

As I was typing up my answer to grandma, I realized there was someone at the door. I could hear the key trying to turn in the lock. Good thing I had the lock changed yesterday, I knew exactly who that someone was.

I know you’re in there, Horrible Harry shouted through the door, open up or I’ll kick the door in!

No sign of a sentimental tear now, my face turned red. I jumped up and ran to the door shouting, get away from here, or I’ll call the cops. How would you like to spend a few days in the pokey? No cute university students in there, you know!

I stood poised on my side of the door, cell phone in hand, hoping I could justify a call to the local RCMP. How sweet it would be to see the two-timing louse being led away in handcuffs.

Harry Harper was nobody’s fool, and having lived with Samantha Elizabeth Lillian Baker for a year and some, he believed her.

I could hear feet shuffling, and some indignant huffing and puffing, then he tried a new approach.

I just want my clothes and stuff, pussycat, he wheedled through the door. I’m sorry about Amanda, I just got carried away, you know you’re the only girl for me?

Nosey old Mr. McKinney from down the hall opened his door, stuck his head out, and spied Harry. He shook his fist at him and shouted keep the noise down or I’ll call the cops, what are you yelling about anyway.

Turning to the door again, Harry tried his best sniffling voice, aw, Sam, honey, don’t hold a grudge, she didn’t mean anything to me. Let me in, I’ll make it up to you. You’ll see.

Get lost, you two-timing rat, I shrieked, I’d call you a lot worse, but I still have to live here after you’ve gone. I threw your stuff out the window. There’s nothing of yours left here anymore. Get lost!

As I heard him stomp down the hall, I ran to the front room and looked over the edge of the patio. Nothing down there now except flowers and shrubs and oh yes, I see a shiny CD the speedy thief overlooked. tsk, tsk, tsk

With this happy little diversion out of the way, I finished the email to grandma and sent it off.

In the kitchen I opened the fridge door knowing there was very little to eat on the shelves. Finally I gave up and did what I always do when I’m depressed, I ordered in. The pizza palace in Ft. Langley probably declared a banner month I’d called them so many times. When I dialed the number and the girl answered, all I had to do was say my name and she rattled off my order and told me it would be there in twenty minutes.

Something told me they were standing around waiting for my order.

I finished my pizza and made myself a cup of hot cocoa, now I know that doesn’t sound good, but don’t criticize until you’ve tried it.

I took my cocoa and stood at the bedroom door and looked at the bed. When I threw the bum out, I wanted to throw the mattress too, but prudence finally won out, and I opted for new sheets, pillows and duvet. It wasn’t the best, but it would have to do.

Finally I took a long hot shower and went to bed, knowing I had done the right thing accepting grandma’s suggestion. At least it would get me out of town.

CHAPTER 2

It was a sunny morning the last week in April, and I was standing on the train station platform in Prairie View, Saskatchewan and looked down the main street.

It hadn’t changed much in the sixty and some years since grandma left town when she was seventeen. It was almost Spring and things were still dry and brown but there was the occasional little green weed poking its head up beside the sidewalk. Grandma assured me the hot weather would come in with a bang the first week in June. I was confident I’d be long gone by then.

The little park she used to talk about stood next door to the train station. I’d have known it anywhere. Grandma loved the little park. She told a lot of stories about the kids that played in it. She always laughed about the rivalry between the town kids and the farm kids. Whoever got to the swing first on Saturday morning was ‘king of the castle’ and everyone else had to make do being ‘the dirty rascal’.

The swing and teeter-totter were old, obviously homemade. I could almost hear the squeals of laughter as the little kids played on the wonderful new toys.

Grandma said when she got older, she and her girl friend from school watched as the courting couples came and walked along the paths in the park and tried to get to the one park bench first. Why there was always so much laughter and mild pushing and shoving she didn’t know, but she said she always wanted to find out what was so funny.

The park was quiet now, still waiting for the young people that didn’t come.

Half way down the other side of the street the local market stood where I knew it would be. Grandma had a lot of funny stories about the Italian family that used to run the A & G General Store. The ‘A’ part of the business was Antonio the husband. I could see where the sign was recently painted over with a new name, Marvin’s Family Market.

I used to laugh and begged to hear her old story’s again and again. The one I liked best was when Antonio’s very fat wife caught him cheating on her with a very skinny old maid that lived on the west side of town. Grandma said she was so mad at him, she ran down the middle of the street with her apron flying over her shoulder throwing ripe tomatoes and turnips and everything else she could lay her hands on at her cringing husband. The word pictures she painted stuck in my memory. I almost saw the harried shop owner scuttling down the street as he tried to dodge the flying vegetables that were tossed by his outraged wife.

I saw where someone tried to update the market. They added an outdoor organic vegetable stand on the north side. It didn’t look like it helped customer flow much.

The local Beauty Parlor was still there too. Although I saw it couldn’t commit to joining the 21st century as it still had old pictures of pretty girls with bouffant hair styles on the glass window in front. Inside were two ladies sitting and chatting while they waited for the hairdresser to do miracles with their hair.

The local café on the other side of the street was just as I pictured it too. Right down to the big electric EAT sign out front.

The last store on that side used to be the dry-goods store, I could tell by the old faded sign. But it had been sold as well. Now it boasted a big PIZZA sign. Everything changed with the times.

I was still standing, looking down the main street when I realized the