Ghost Town

April drove across the river to visit a ghost town that had stuck in her mind when she passed it on the way to a family reunion on the coast. She said she would take a turn at making dinner and was going to get groceries. Taking a little longer wouldn't matter because she was thirty and single.

The ghost town plaque said the town was first settled in the 1800s as Cementville because the settlers used limestone to make cement. When the limestone ran out, the town turned to lumber and other natural resources until their mill burned down in the 1940s. Although April felt a little uncertain about the one other car in the small dusty parking lot, she walked through the gate where she saw a group of quiet buildings telling herself there was probably a caretaker in one of them. She took a picture of the stagnant scene and found herself walking towards the largest building that had been the quarantine station. Inside, April put on her nurses uniform and walked down the bed isle with pen and paper taken from her purse so she could take notes on ailments.

“Croup from limestone dust.”

“Fell in a vat of cement and couldn't move or breath.”

“Poked in the eye with a knitting needle.”

“Salmonella.”

“Broken leg from jumping off a tree stump.”

“Almost a widow maker.”

The first half of the twentieth century ailments began to sound more modern.

“Run over by my truck.”

“Small town depression.”

“Severe allergic reaction.”

April felt anxious at the nurses station where she saw a list of unfamiliar medical terms, as though she should remove her uniform and study for the final exam. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted movement outside the small window. Looking again no one was there.

Putting away the nurses uniform and walking into one of the small abandoned houses, April put on an apron and stood in front of the wood cook stove. Next to the heavy metal stove that stood on four fat legs was a Hoosier cabinet. April opened the cabinet doors and marveled at the combination of storage compartments for flour, tools, food and dish display items. There was a work area that folded out level with the stove. She got her notebook out again to take notes from the mother on what it was like to be stationed in front of the warm stove and Hoosier cabinet.

“I was on my feet much of the day baking bread for when the men came home for lunch and dinner all dusty, hot and hungry.”

“What did you eat besides bread.”

“Potatoes. Lots of potatoes and other root vegetables in the winter with a little stew meat. In the summer we ate fresh garden vegetables and a little meat. I spent a lot of my time right here kneading flour into bread. Do you know how to bake bread?”

Again, April saw someone in the window who may have seen her talking. A touch of embarrassment spread into her complexion.

“No, I just buy bread, any kind of bread. I don't need to know how to bake.”

With that, April walked out the front door and headed over to the schoolhouse where she sat in a little desk leaning her head on one hand. She noticed letters engraved on the desk.

“MODERN.”

“What?”

“You look modern.”

“I'm from a century in the future.”

“Did you go to school?”

“A different kind of school.”

“Did you learn penmanship, arithmetic and the important reading?”

“I learned to write and keyboard. Math and reading were part of my education.”

“Do you know the basics?”

“Who are you?” April asked the person now fully visible and looking at her through the schoolhouse window. He stayed put as she walked toward the window and pressed his nose against the glass when she looked directly into his large brown eyes.

“Wait,” said April as she walked toward the front door.

Outside he was, of course, gone. April put on her sweater, walked the short distance to the pebble beach and sat looking at the lonely pilings emphasized by clouds and still water. One small wooden boat with a cabin big enough for one or two was pulled up on the beach. April wondered if the man who had become, in her mind, a caretaker was somewhere nearby. The quiet was loudly interrupted by a buzzing sound that caused April to vigorously swat at the air around her head before realizing that her cell phone was on vibrate.

“We're going to walk around on the rocks and collect stuff,” said the high pitched child's voice on the other end.

April paused in response to her seven-year-old niece.

“Do you want to go with me and Mom.”

“That sounds like fun,” April thought she heard movement near the boat. “I'd really like to go but it might take me awhile to get there.”

“Mom said you just went to the store and should be back.”

“Right.” April turned in a circle taking in all that she could including the buildings and the boat. “I should be back in an hour if you and your Mom can wait.”

“Mom,” April pulled the phone away from her ear as her niece yelled, “Can we wait an hour for April to drive back from the grocery store.”

April's sister grabbed the phone. “What's taking you?”

“I'll tell you when I get back in an hour. See you then.”

“Bye.”

April put the phone back in her purse and courageously made the decision to walk towards the boat that was small enough to be a play house boat for April's niece and her friends. She reached out and touched the smooth non splintering wood. Looking up from the wood that may have been a nineteenth or twentieth century lumber industry product, April felt chills when she looked at the cabin then jumped when she stepped on the toe of someone behind her.

“Your wrists have goosebumps,” he said in a gentle voice.

April pulled at the sleeves on her sweater as she felt her stomach do a little flip.

“Why do you keep sneaking up on me?” She looked into the already familiar brown eyes.

“Do you live here?”

A smile that April would someday label as characteristic spread into the right corner of his mouth.

“Do you think I'm a ghost?”

“A caretaker.”

“You think I'm a ghost caretaker.”

“You're a tourist like me?”

“You do seem to be the only other one silly enough to venture into a ghost town alone.”

“I'm here visiting family.”

He raised one eyebrow.

“I mean I'm there,” April pointed to what she thought was the right direction of the family reunion,.

“Where are you from?” April's voice quivered a tiny bit as she noticed that his face was handsome when not pressed against ghost town glass. His large brown eyes had a certain warmth as though he was not in the habit of defending himself.

“I'm just a few hours away in Portland. I like to drive here on weekends to relax. My family owns a beach house about ten minutes from here.”

“How often do you come here, to this ghost town.”

“I've been here a few times since I noticed a sign for this place.”

“A few times.”

“I like to think about what was here and listen to the voices in my mind.”

“Me too. Even though I've only been here once.”

April liked the way his light brown hair fell over his forehead as he looked down.

“I see,” he said.

“What?”

“I see that neither one of us are married unless you had some reason for taking off your ring,” he said as he lifted her left hand.

“No,” April gently squeezed his hand.

“I didn't have a reason for taking off a ring.”