YOU CAN'T WHITEWASH AWAY THE SHADOWS part 2

YOU CAN’T WHITEWASH AWAY THE SHADOWS part 3

Flickering lights

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Fall was approaching and they knew there was much work to be done. The carpet in the living room was now a permanent fixture. The TV shelf had been sanded, stained, and highly polished. The old wood-burning stove was cleaned and repainted with flame proof paint. The old wood paneling on the walls was now clean and polished. The closet in Meg’s room was ripped apart and put back together in a more modern scheme that provided more room. It was now, also a walk-in-closet.

Denis replaced the gaskets on the faucets in the bathroom and kitchen sinks. He was sure that would stop them from turning on and off at will. Didn’t help, though but at least Meg was able to turn them off before he realized they’d been turned on – again!

You’re probably wondering why she didn’t tell him about the house. She was selling it anyway, so she just decided to let that bit of information slip past him.

They were sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying their lunch when they heard a very loud THUMP! Denis and Meg jumped up, but Denis ran first into the living room. Looking around, he saw nothing unusual. THUMP! Again. It came from Meg’s bedroom.

“What the heck? I was just in there and everything was fine,” he said.

Trying not to sound pessimistic, Meg said, “Maybe it’s outside and just sounds like it’s coming from the bedroom. Johnny who lives next door is always working on his car. Maybe that’s it.”

She kept her fingers crossed but, in her heart, knew better.

Denis opened the door to her bedroom and walked inside. “Meg, you need to come in here.”

She gasped when she walked in.

Most of the clothes that were hanging in the closet sat on the floor. The old wooden clothes pole was snapped in half.

“Oh well,” she mumbled. “It was old, anyway. Guess it was just a matter of time before it fell apart. I’ll just put all the clothes on the couch outside since we’ll be painting the walls, anyway.”

Neither of them commented on the fact that the pole was snapped and broken in two places.

They carried her clothes into the living room and as Meg was passing through the doorway, she noticed it. Or rather, didn’t notice it.

Her grandmother had bequeathed to her the old-fashioned sick-call cross that had been in her family for decades.

For those who aren’t familiar with that kind of religious item, I’ll explain.

A sick-call cross is normally made of wood. The Crucifix is supposed to slide in and out of the base. The base, once open (after the Crucifix is removed and mounted in its slot made for holding the Crucifix upright) holds a bottle of Holy Water, two white candles, a small bottle of Blessed Oil, and a small piece of white linen, folded neatly into a small square, that once unfolded, is used as an Altar cloth. The bottles are not plastic. They are glass, with cork stoppers. Once the Crucifix is removed, there are two small holes in the base where you would sit the candles before lighting them. While the Crucifix is wood, just like the base, the Figure of Christ is molded metal.

This sick-call cross is used primarily in the Catholic religion when a priest is called to administer the Last Rites to a terminal patient.

When her grandmother passed away and she received her cross, the first thing she did was to hang it on the wall in her bedroom – right next to the door.

Only now, it was gone!

They hadn’t yet taken things off the walls to ready the room for painting, so she knew Denis hadn’t touched it.

“Since there are only a few items left in here, I’ll go put the dirty dishes in the sink while you sort things out and carry them to the couch,” he volunteered.

As he walked toward the kitchen, Meg scrambled down on her knees and looked under her bed. There lay her grandmother’s cross. She picked it up and laid it gently on her bed. She removed the Crucifix and found the white folded linen was no longer folded. It sat atop the other contents in a rolled-up heap. The glass bottles were untouched and still in one piece. The two candles were snapped completely in half. Oh, and the metal figure of Christ? Severed at the wrists and ankles. There was no other damage.

“What the hell?” Meg heard Denis yell from the kitchen.

Meg put the cross in her dresser drawer and quickly made her way to the kitchen.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, noting the concern on his face.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“See what? I was in the bedroom,” Meg responded.

“I left the kitchen light on, and it just buzzed and flickered. A quick off and on!”

“Maybe the bulb is wearing out. I can’t remember the last time I had to change it.”

The light switch in the kitchen was still in the on position. However, it happened again.

Off and on. Off and on.

“I’m going downstairs to check on the circuit breaker. It might need to be changed. It’s in the laundry room, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Meg said as her heart began to pound.

He made it downstairs without incident and Meg wouldn’t even be able tell you how happy that made her until she heard, “What the F***?”

Okay, he’s never cursed like that in front of her, so she knew there was a problem.

He ran up the stairs. “You need to call an electrician. Look at this!”

For those who know anything about circuit breakers, they’re supposed to be somewhat square. I say somewhat because some of the newer ones are a bit more on the rectangular shape. Megs were square.

The one in Denis’ hand had been square but now had one point completely melted while the other three corners remained pointed. The one that had melted, was now just a mess of melted plastic and wires – right down to the center of the breaker.

“You’re lucky you never had a fire. I’ll call and see if I can get someone out here tonight. In the meantime, I’ve turned off the main breaker. You won’t have any electricity until the electrician checks it out.”

The first electrician he called arrived at Meg’s house within the hour. Denis showed him the breaker he’d pulled from the breaker box earlier.

“Hot Damn!” the man said. “This isn’t good. I’m going downstairs to check it out.”

Meg told him where the breaker box was located, and then heard his footfalls descending the stairs.

He wasn’t down there long, when they heard hurried stomping, racing up the steps.

“I can’t do this. You need to call someone else. Sorry,” he said out of breath, and he almost ran to the door.

He never explained or gave them time to ask, but Meg knew. Yes, Meg knew.