Little Jack
The morning air was cool and crisp, and the allure of the fluttering black and yellow wings was irresistible. Little Jack gave chase, oblivious to the lines adults draw between this place and that, or why it was okay for him to be here, but not over there. Inside the house on the hill, the man who had drawn that particular line reached for his loaded rifle.
Little Jack giggled and snatched at the air as he skipped and tumbled in the tall grass. The butterfly, at least, was never in any serious danger. It zigged and zagged on its frivolous path, leading Little Jack ever closer to the back of the big white house with the tall columns on its front. The rear windows had been swung open to allow for the cool breezes to blow through the room, and gauzy white drapes fluttered like wings in the wind. The drapes caught his attention and he laughed at the way they seemed to be waving just to him. “Hey, Little Jack,” they seemed to say. “Hey, you!”
A hand pulled the curtain back and Jack’s eyes went wide.
“There’s someone out there,” said Gilly.
“Someone out where,” said her sister. Arwyn was laden with moving boxes, doing the lion’s share of the work because Gilly, while younger, had not aged well.
“Out there,” she said, pointing out the window like a statue.
With a slight huff of annoyance, her sister dropped the boxes onto a dresser top. She pulled back the curtain and started to say, “I don’t see…” but then Gilly screamed and fell back into a chair, her hands clamped over her ears.
“Gilly! What’s wrong?! What is it?!”
She lurched to her feet and hurried to the window. “Somebody shot him! Somebody shot that little boy!” She yanked the curtain aside, expecting to see a body lying in the grass, but there was nothing but a few daisies and a black and yellow butterfly dancing on the breeze.
Arwyn was confused and concerned. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with you?”
“The boy! That little boy! They shot him!”
“Gillian, there was nobody out there! Nobody shot anybody!”
“But the shot! It was so loud! You heard it, didn’t you? The gunshot?”
The Nickerson sisters had always lived together. Never married, rarely tempted, they were two life-long teachers, recently retired. Dr. Arwyn Nickerson had taught English Lit at Duke University. Her younger sister, Ms. Gilly Nickerson, had taught children, the younger the better. Sweet balls of energy and germs, she had loved every last one them, and she would still be in her classroom if not for that incident, that little stumble and fall. They called it a stroke, but it was just a little one, and she felt fine now.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t hear anything but you yowling like an alley cat.” Arwyn, always the responsible one, took her little sister’s hand and tried to hide her own worries. “Listen, hon, it’s a big, new house and we’ve both been tired. I’ll bring the rest of your boxes in, and you can put things wherever you’d like. You’ll feel better when you get your room put together.”
The next morning, it all felt like a weird dream. She knew what happened, but she also knew it hadn’t happened. It couldn’t have. Gilly untangled herself from the sheets and rolled out of bed. She shuffled across the floor and pushed the tall old windows open on their hinges and let the cool breeze blow through her drapes.
Down the hill, Little Jack spied a black and yellow butterfly and raced after it. His mother had been working since before the sun came up and she couldn’t keep an eye on that boy every minute of the day.
Up the hill, the man went for his gun. “You can’t do that!” said his wife. He pushed her aside. “I warned those people to keep their whelps off my property.”
Little Jack saw the white drapes waving in the wind. It made him laugh, the way they seemed to be waving to him.
Gilly was trying to put the thoughts of the previous day out of her mind, but then she saw him through the gauzy white curtains. The little boy cavorting through the grass in hot pursuit of something she couldn’t quite see. She pulled the curtain back for a better look. His eyes went wide, and a deafening shot rang in her ears. She screamed, lost her balance, and dropped to the floor. Her sister was there in a flash. She wrapped her arms around Gilly’s shoulders and held her tight, rocking gently. Yes, she had heard Gilly’s shout, but no, she hadn’t heard any gunshot. When they got to their feet, the two of them again looked out at the empty field. Gilly said she wanted to switch bedrooms with her sister.
“You’re just getting used to our new place. Give it time. You’ll be fine.”
They sat on the edge of the bed, sisters who had always been together, who always spoke their minds, who always shared their secrets. Gilly said, “Arwyn… what aren’t you saying?”
Arwyn sighed. “Haven’t you wondered how we could afford this big old place?”
“No, never. You’re good with money. I just figured…”
“I didn’t tell you because I thought it would upset you, and you heard what your cardiologist said.”
“Okay, Sis, now you’d better tell me quick or I’ll show you upset!”
“The house was cheap because it’s been empty for awhile. No one wanted to live here.”
“You’re stalling Arwyn. Spit it out! What’s the problem? Mold? Termites?”
“Something happened here, something bad. A long time ago. People who have lived here since it happened… they don’t stay long.”
Gilly was silent. She looked into her sister’s face and blinked like a thoughtful owl. “You bought a haunted house?”
Arwyn got to her feet. “Don’t be ridiculous! I bought a good house at a good price!” She paused, as if considering whether to say more. What she said was, “I have boxes to unpack.”
It rained for the next two days, and the air turned colder after that. It had been over a week since they’d moved in, and the Nickerson sisters had fallen into an uneventful daily routine. For the first time in decades the change in the weather was not a signal to prepare for fall classes, and so they sat in one room or another, read magazines, talked a little, and tried not to think about the classrooms they wouldn’t be in.
One morning the sun was bright, and the air was warm. Gilly pushed her windows open to let the outside air come in, and she sat back in her chair to read. Something moving outside her window caught her eye. The fluttering white drapes gave everything a misty look, like maybe that boy wasn’t really even there. She stood, went to the window, and watched, more curious than afraid.
Little Jack saw the way the white drapes were blowing in the wind, as if they were waving hello to him. He approached the house and saw someone standing inside, half hidden by those same drapes. He waved shyly, and she waved back. He liked making new friends, so he got closer.
“Hi,” he said. “My name’s Little Jack.”
“Hello, Little Jack. I’m Ms. Nickerson.”
Little Jack reached out and pulled the curtain aside. His eyes went wide.
“NOOO!” shouted Gilly
Her sister burst in and found her standing by the window, trembling. “Okay,” she said. “We can switch rooms.”
“No,” said Gilly. “I think I figured it out.”
The next day, like the day before, was sunny and warm. Gilly excitedly threw her windows open and waited. She didn’t know it, but Little Jack had first chased that big black and yellow butterfly about a hundred years ago, and he’d been doing it every warm, sunny day since, eternally wandering off, innocently in the wrong place at the wrong time. Each and every time he did, he had been surprised, scared, and then shot and killed. He did it again that morning, and he saw the gauzy, white drapes waving to him yet again. Then he saw the woman behind them.
“My name’s Little Jack.”
“Hello, Little Jack. I’m Ms. Nickerson. We can be friends if you’d like, but we both have to follow one rule.” She told him the simple rule she hoped would change his fate, the one little thing they mustn’t do. Little Jack looked at her through the filmy curtain and nodded his consent. “Promise?” she asked, holding her hand palm out with just the white curtain between them.
“Promise!” He pressed his palm against hers and she felt it through the thin fabric.
“Little Jack,” said Ms. Nickerson, once more caring deeply for the precious child in her charge, “does your mother know where you are?”
Little Jack shook his head.
“Do you know where you are?”
He looked left and right, and then back at her, his face filled with worry.
“Would you like me to help you find your way back home?”
Little Jack nodded, and Ms. Gilly Nickerson smiled. Isn’t that what she’d always done — help the little ones find their way?
In her own bedroom, Arwyn Nickerson stopped folding her laundry and slowly sat on the edge of her bed. Through the filmy white drapes blowing in the breeze, she could see a little boy walking away. He had probably wandered off and gotten lost, but he was okay. He was going home, and she knew he would be safe now because he was holding her sister’s hand.
