the one on whom everything depends
―John j Geddes
Her Hand
I hate weekends and holidays, not because I espouse the Protestant work ethic, but because off-days interrupt my routine, giving me far too much time to think.
Take today—it’s a Sunday and whereas I’d normally be busy lecturing at the university and dealing with student angst, instead, I’m here in my newly purchased historic house trying not to think about what my be hiding in my basement.
Bones, lovely bones…possible ancient human remains.
The evidence of ancient burials might be fascinating in a museum or an archeological dig, but not adjacent to my coal bin right beneath the couch where I’m sitting.
On the other hand, if I could bring myself to examine the space more closely, there may not be anything or anyone mouldering in those dark recesses, only wall drawings from long-dead people who may have sought shelter way back in the past and amused themselves by drawing pictures of dogs and a Dark Woman.
I don’t know what’s worse—facing my fear and getting over it, or avoiding it and letting it haunt me and ruin the enjoyment of my house.
To be determined.
My cell rings and it’s Kate checking in on me. I hate feeling helpless and weak but anything mystical scares the hell right out of me and I know I’m not thinking straight.
“Thought you might be up for Sunday brunch so I’m bringing coffee and donuts and then afterwards we’ll explore that mysterious crawl space under your feet.”
“You sure you’re up for that?”
“Who me? Yeah, in a way I feel responsible—I should have insisted the door be opened and the room thoroughly inspected.”
“And what if it contains human remains?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’m sure it won’t be the first time you discover skeletons in your closet.”
“Funny,” I mutter morosely.
“Famous for it,” she says breezily. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
It’s not the way I’d choose to spend a Sunday, groping about in murky depths for cadavers, but Kate’s right—we have to settle this and know what’s real and what’s imaginary and then deal with the consequences.
A short time later she’s at my door with a box of Tim Horton’s donuts and a takeout tray containing two large coffees.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget you, Girl,” she tells Mollie, handing her two sweet potato chews.
All three of us end up eating in the den before the fireplace while in the back of my mind I’m thinking of what horrors might lie beneath our feet.
Kate is intrigued. ”So, you saw the same images on the grotto walls that we saw in in the cave at the cliff?”
“Same Dark Woman figure with dogs—some on leashes.”
“Hmm,” it certainly suggests guarding a sacred site—but doesn’t necessarily mean there are burials there. Maybe the burials are incidental and it’s the locations of the sites that are important.”
“I never thought of that. Maybe this place and the cliff are liminal portals as the archeologist described them when I told her about first seeing the Dark Lady.”
“Only one way to find out,” she said, getting to her feet.
It's with misgiving that I follow her down to the basement. Even Mollie was hesitant, lying down on the landing, her jaw resting on the edge so she could peer down and observe what we were doing.
I opened the door and Kate shone the flashlight beam within illuminating familiar images.
She whistled softly when she saw them. “They’re exactly the same as at the cliff.”
We both stared at images of the Dark Woman and black dogs and then she slowly played the light over the walls and ceiling allowing it to probe the recesses.
There was the unmistakable image of a woman's hand—possibly, the Dark Lady's. Perhaps she even painted the wall art—it was delicate and lovely.
But regardless of mysterious clues and thankfully for my peace of mind, there were no visible human remains.
”Well, that’s a relief,” I sighed. “I can live with cave paintings.”
She nodded, “But you have to wonder why they were covered up in the first place.”
“I don’t know if we’ll ever get the answer to that.”
“I can search the title and see who the previous owners were—that might produce some clues.”
“Good idea. At least if we know the names we can do a deep dive afterward into whatever records are available and maybe talk to surviving family members.”
”So,” she smiled, “what should we do with the rest of this Sunday?”
Mollie barked from the landing. “I think one of us wants to go for a walk, if you’re up to that.”
“Sure, as long as we avoid the marsh area and the cliffs. I think we’ve had enough of ancient sites for one day.”
“I was thinking later tonight we could go for dinner at Sassafras. How does that sound?”
“Let me see,” she smiled mischievously, “a romantic dinner with candlelight and wine? I think I could probably handle that.”
“It would certainly be a welcome change with no Dark Lady lurking on the periphery.”
“There's always a dark lady,” she whispered, her own eyes dark and gleaming.
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