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That’s what we did. We had two pieces of pie each and talked about everything but the past. It was when we’d almost talked ourselves to death that I threw out an idea.
“How about we go see your friend together? I can hopefully keep you from committing murder, and we’d both get some closure on another chapter. What do you say?” I’m not sure how good an idea this is, but while we’re hashing shit out, it would be another thing to put to bed.
Sitting at the end of the driveway to the farm, it all looks remarkably unremarkable. I was expecting something fancier than just a log house and a dirt yard. No one answered when we knocked, but there are signs that someone lives here. Smoke from the chimney was my contribution to that, and Ghost pointed out cameras covering the yard and all around the house. There’s a beat-up truck parked near an old barn and chickens running around.
“Let’s just sit on the porch and wait for whoever is coming.” Ghost takes a seat in a rocker and looks as if he belongs there.
“What makes you think someone is coming, Ghost?” I’m not ready to call him anything else yet, but I don’t bristle as much now when he calls me son.
“You don’t go to all the trouble of having cameras and motion detectors and not know when someone comes calling. They’ll be along presently, and when they get here, stay calm and loose. No sudden moves, and no matter what happens or what he says, don’t lose your temper. Best just leave this to me for the time being.”
We sit in silence for about five minutes when Ghost looks to his right, which is behind me. I move to turn when he shakes his head slightly. I don’t hear anything, but he nods at someone and waits. I’m surprised by the voice that speaks up.
“What can I do for you boys? I’m not used to coming home and finding strangers on my porch.” It’s a young woman's voice, and it’s musical and lilting. I start to turn, and her voice changes in an instant to something hard and downright scary. “Don’t move, mister. My boys will tear you to pieces before you're halfway out of that rocker.”
Ghost looks at me as though to say, ‘I told you no sudden moves.’
“I’m sorry, miss. You and your boys are safe around me. I have no desire to be torn to pieces by whatever your boys may be, or yourself for that matter.” Relaxing back into the chair, I raise my eyebrows at Ghost.
“I’m looking for your father, Wolf,” Ghost says quietly, without moving I notice. “Is he here?”
“How do you know him, and what do you want with him?” Her voice hasn’t gone back to that musical tone, and it has even more steel in it now.
“I served with him, we were like brothers, and we have unfinished business,” Ghost states in what I assume is his best polite voice.
“You stand up. Your friend stays put.”
I start to turn to say something when a growl stops me in my tracks. My blood runs cold and I ask, “Please tell me that was you growling and not one of your boys.”
“It was one of the boys. He needs some reminding that he stays quiet until told otherwise. Sit still, and you’ll be fine. For now. You, turn around slowly, all the way round, arms straight out to the sides.” She is obviously checking Ghost out for weapons, and it sounds like she knows her stuff.
“Your father taught you well. You’re a credit to him. Is he here?” Ghost’s voice has an edge to it, but I think I notice it more than she does.
“My father is always here. What do you want with him?” Her voice has softened slightly, but not enough for me to turn and look at her.
“I’d like to talk to him, if I may.”
“You can talk to him, but you won’t get an answer. If you were such a good friend, you’d know that.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. When did he die, Salem?” Ghost looks at me.
“How do you know my name?”
“You were supposed to be named Wraith. The Scottish word for a ghost. Your mother named you Salem when you were in the hospital and registered it to spite your father.”
“How could you know that and not know he was dead?” She sounds angry at Ghost's revelation.
“I know because you were supposed to be named after me. I’m Ghost. Your father and I were very close, but I had to disappear for a while. I’ve only just been able to resurface.”
“Well, any business you may have had with him, died with him. The farm is legally mine and there is very little money, so if you came for anything other than a quick hello, you’re out of luck.”
“There’s nothing I want from you. How did he die?”
“He was killed up on the mountain. A logging truck ran him off the road”
“Excuse me, but can I move now?” I ask, definitely without moving.
There are two resounding no’s.
