My brother Matthew came to visit today. He came all the way from one of his trips to Africa. Father embraced him when he arrived, and I do not think he knew what to do.
I tried to call for Claire and the children, who are so fond of their uncle Matthew, but they did not come. Perhaps later.
Father and Matthew tried to get me to get dressed. They wanted me to attend a service of some kind. It was not like Father. To my knowledge, he
had not seen the inside of a church since he was married to my mother. I refused to go. I explained to Father that I had spent entirely too much time away from my family. In fact, I had decided to take my vacation early and he would have to learn to do without me in the mills for some time.
I was ready for a fight. I know how stubborn Father can be, but I was determined, and I have some of Father's resolve myself. So Father and Matthew went to the service without me.
I was glad to be alone. Claire and the children came for a nice, long visit. Claire convinced me to leave the infirmary. I did not want to go, but she explained that it made the children nervous to be there, so I agreed.
Upstairs, we all gathered in the master bedroom. I made a fire, and Claire and I played with the children. Later, we put the children to sleep in their own beds and Claire and I were alone for the first time in too long.
She had something to ask me, and I could tell that it pained her. She told me I had to let her and the children go. For the first time in our marriage, I was angry with her. Her request was ridiculous. She was as bad as my father. I told her we needed to spend more time together as a family.
She tried to bring it up again later, but I would not have it. I did not think it was possible, but I had to deny my wife something she wanted. She has asked for so little from me in the past and it pained me to do it, but I had to be firm.
Matthew and Father returned that night. To my surprise, Matthew said he would be staying for a while. He wanted to spend time with me. He would also take on more responsibilities at the mills. I'm sure that pleased Father, though he doesn't show it.
Unfortunately, they want to stay at the house. I only hope they don't stay too long. Claire and the children still won't come when they are around.
After that, there were perhaps two dozen undated entries. He began dating them again in the 1950s. Most of his writing detailed the time he spent with his wife and children, who never aged or changed. The later entries were disjointed and hard to follow.
Isabel felt a sinking in her chest, imagining the man wandering his house for decades with only his memories of his wife and children for company. He never returned to work. Eventually his father and brother moved out and would come by for regular visits to bring him food and clean up. As far as Isabel could tell, he never left the house as the years went by. Soon, there were only a few entries per year, then a few per decade.
The house had been haunted for nearly fifty years, but not by ghosts… by a man who had lost everything and everyone.
The final entry was dated 1988, just a year after Isabel, Michael, and her brother climbed out of their pods. The entry was short and the handwriting barely legible.
I think the sickness has finally come for me. I knew it would. Lately, Claire does everything for me
and will not let me do anything for myself. Fortunately, the children are a great help to her.
"It is only fair, you took care of all of us," she said.
When I finish this, I will put my book on the shelf with the others. Father will be pleased that I have completed this part of our family history.
Father visits regularly now, and the children are always happy to see him. He looks well, not like he did when the children were sick. This time has made him a better father and grandfather. He also seems happy.
He and I have wonderful discussions about everything from the family business to politics. He still thinks that war will be coming soon and that the mills will be able to help in the effort. I think he's right, but I told him that I am not ready to end my vacation. Work will have to wait; a man's family must come first.
Now I must go to the infirmary, which I have not visited in some time. Claire and the children said they will take care of me, and Father will be there too, of course.
It's getting late.
Isabel stared at the last sentence for a long time.
12
Isabel finally closed the book and put it back on the shelf, but she could not shut the images of the family from her mind, especially Robert, who lived here, alone, until his eighties.
She felt a tightening and then a lurching in her throat and fought it down.
Had Claire and the children remained in the house somehow? Or part of them, at least? What about now? She felt she and her friends were not alone in the house, that it was not empty… at least not completely.
Was it Robert Benton and his family? Or some part of them they had left behind? And were they trying to tell her something? She had felt something odd when they arrived. The house had felt familiar… and comfortable.
Had they been communicating with her? And what about the journal? That particular book had fallen off the shelf, and it had opened to the first day the family got sick.
And then there was the strange behavior of the van… cutting out when they tried to leave, but working fine
when they decided to head for the house and stay the night. But why bring them here? Why show her the book? Did the Bentons want something from them, or from her? What could it be?
It all sounded crazy, even in her own head, but there were things going on here she could not explain… feelings she could not explain.
And what did Robert Benton mean when he wrote, "It's getting late." Alex had said that to her in her dream. Remembering that dream gave Isabel a fresh run of chills. She had tried not to think about it. Was Alex really making contact with her? Or was she just imagining things?
Like Robert Benton, she thought. He imagined his family. Day after day, year after year, then decade after decade. For almost fifty years he had roamed this house… haunted it, really… driven mad by his loss. Except Isabel wasn't sure he was mad. In fact she was sure he wasn't… at least not completely.
She was sure he had felt something of his lost wife and children. It might have been as simple as the lingering feeling you had for someone you had dreamed about before you woke. Or had they been here in a more real way?
And Isabel could make contact with people as they dreamed. Maybe she was in some kind of contact with the Bentons. Maybe she was in some kind of contact with Alex, for that matter. But what then?