R. Lafferty - The 7th Ghost Story Megapack

Gordon performed beautifully at the inquest. He was the object of much commiseration, not to mention well-concealed envy on his good fortune. Gordon promptly went back to Denver and married Esther. They were in Honolulu, on their honeymoon, when—

It came like a shadow, it leaped down like a super-imposition on a projected slide. They were dining fashionably late on the hotel terrace. Everything had been ordered with the utmost care, and the waiter was given to understand that Gordon was a very particular diner. The breast of guinea hen would go back if it wasn’t just right.

The hotel orchestra was playing a sugary waltz. Gordon lingered a moment before applying his knife and fork. He was lifting a succulent morsel of guinea hen to his lips and smiling across the table at Esther as if the food were nothing.

The shadow came down.

Gordon blinked and set down his fork. Why, for a minute Esther wasn’t Esther. She was—

“What is it, darling?” Esther’s voice lilted reassuringly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Gordon made his lips form a smile. “Because I love you so much,” he said gallantly.

He picked up his fork and was touching his lips with it when the shadow came down again. It wasn’t Esther sitting there across from him. It was Aubrey, Cousin Aubrey. He was drooling, begging for his dinner.

“From that moment on,” Gordon told Dr. Folliger, “my life has been a living hell.” I can’t eat, Doctor! Every time I start to take even one mouthful I see Cousin Aubrey, staring at my food and mouthing. Don’t you see? When he was alive the only thing that he responded to was—food. I starved him to death, Doctor! He’s come back! He won’t let me eat because I starved him!”

“I see.” Dr. Folliger paced the room and stroked his bald spot. He turned. “You must realize, Mr. Keel, that this apparition exists only in your mind. You blame yourself for what happened. Oh, perhaps,” he waved his pudgy hand, “perhaps subconsciously there were moments when you wished him dead. It’s understandable. It’s perfectly human in such circumstances. But you must not blame yourself for what happened. It wasn’t your fault . The wind blew the cellar door shut. You couldn’t get out. There was nothing down there you could use to batter the door down. It wasn’t your fault, Mr. Keel!”

“Cousin Aubrey thinks so,” Gordon whimpered. “He won’t let me eat because he’s still hungry.”

Dr. Folliger shook his head. Then he went to work on Gordon’s mind. Within three weeks his daily sessions with Gordon reproved his wizardry at hypnotic suggestion. Gordon ate again. He ate like a horse.

Soon Gordon stepped on the bus with a contented stomach and the slightly drunken joy which the realization that he was on his way to resume his interrupted honeymoon produced. He was glad now that he hadn’t allowed Esther to visit him at the hospital. He hadn’t wanted her to see him all skin and bones. After all, they were hardly man and wife in actuality. He took out her letter and reread it.

“ Darling, I know you wanted me to go back to Denver until you got well, but I had a better idea. You know how we talked of fixing up Cousin Grey Ellis’s country house? Well, I’ve done it, darling! Wait until you see it now. You won’t know the old place !”

Gordon sighed at the idea of spending his honeymoon in that house. And yet, why not? Even Dr. Folliger thought it might be good for him. It would cast out his mental delusions forever. To reassure himself he recited the little ritual Dr. Folliger had taught him, jokingly referring to it as a litany of exorcism.

It wasn’t my fault. The wind blew the door shut. I only thought I did it because once in a while I wished Cousin Aubrey dead. My guilt complex made me think I planned it, but it wasn’t my fault !

What Esther said about him not knowing the old place was true. This couldn’t be! Stepping through a rose-trellised gate, Gordon blinked at the delightfully rambling house with the red roof and didn’t know it. Gone was the baroque veranda and the slanted tower. A cobblestone path led up to a modern porch and a white door with a shiny brass knocker on it. Halfway down the path the door burst open and Esther ran into his arms.

“I’ve fixed a wonderful dinner for you, darling!” Esther crooned from the kitchen, “I thought it would be nice to be all alone our first night. Comfortable, darling?”

“Wonderful, wonderful.” He yawned and looked around the room. Every thing was new and shining. Then Esther began setting the table.

“I just love these old-fashioned oval tables, don’t you, darling?” she chattered. “It doesn’t quite fit in but I couldn’t bear to part with it. Or these wonderful old dishes.”

Gordon looked at the table and at the dishes. A faint twinge made his shoulders quiver under the port dressing gown Esther had given him as a home-coming gift, along with the slippers. It was as if someone were pinching his spinal cord with a fine pair of tweezers.

“Yes, dear,” he said.

He looked at the dinner plate with the blue turkey design on it and burst with a sudden desire to retch. But he forced a tepid smile and wrenched his eyes away from the table and the plates. Everything was to be so perfect tonight. He told himself grimly that he would eat off one of those turkey plates if it killed him.

Just before she served the beef casserole Esther clapped her hands in feminine glee. “I’ve got something to show you, darling! The most wonderful thing I found!”

Gordon smiled indulgently as she ran out of the room. He was famished after his long bus ride, but he could wait. Esther got so excited about these little surprises. She was so sweetly feminine.

His smile died when Esther wheeled in the baby buggy, the oversize baby buggy.

“Of course I had to have it repainted, and a new cover put on,” she prattled proudly, “Isn’t it divine? It’s so well made. Don’t look so shocked, darling! I told you I want to have children, and I’ve always adored the idea of having twins. I just know that our first—”

“Take it away!”

“Why, darling! Don’t be so provincial!”

“Take it away!” Gordon strangled.

“All right. Oh, I know why you’re so touchy. You’re hungry, poor darling.” She wheeled the buggy out in the hall. “I’ll hurry, dear. Dinner’s coming right up. It’s something very special, just for you!”

Gordon took his place at the table and tried to act like a new, happy husband. That the buggy was out of his sight helped. But here he was sitting at the same oval table, with those same round turkey plates staring him in the face. As she served Esther chattered on about her fondness for old dishes and silver. She held up a fork with an ornate handle. One of its tines was bent. Gordon stared.

“Isn’t it lovely, darling?”

Gordon shivered. That bent tine. It was Cousin Aubrey’s fork. He remembered the day it happened. He watched Esther put it in her mouth and shuddered.

“You haven’t touched your dinner, darling!” Esther chided. “And I spent all afternoon cooking it, just for you.”

Gordon looked down. “What—”

“Beef casserole, dear.”

The plate of tender, spiced meat swam before his eyes. Under the drifting wisps of steam the pieces of beef seemed to dry and rot, like—

He shut his eyes and recited Dr. Folliger’s litany of exorcism. It wasn’t my fault. The wind blew the door shut. I only thought I did it because…

“Silly me!” Esther exclaimed. “No wonder you’re not eating. You never eat beef casserole without horse radish. You must have told me that a dozen times. I’ll run right down and get it. I won’t be a moment, darling.”