Beware the River Page 3

  Relieved that I had chosen a chair with my back to the painting, I was somewhat calmer now knowing that I wasn’t in the room alone with the man and the buffalo. Although I would swear I felt beady eyes boring into my back.

  I suppose all of the blood must have drained from my face, because Gram was looking at me strangely. “Well, I’m not sure. Why don’t you look it up on that computer gadget of yours?” (She still thought computers were a fad) “Why do you ask, son? And why are you so pale? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Now lean back and let me put these eye drops in. Great day in the morning! Your eyes are red as blood.” She dropped two drops in each eye then handed me the ice bag.

  Wow!

  Did she hit the nail on the head or what?

  “I feel like I’ve seen a ghost, Gram.” I laughed, nervously clutching the glass with both hands to keep from shaking tea onto her freshly vacuumed floor. Or a couple of ghosts! I knew I had to calm down for her sake. “I’m probably just coming down with a summer cold or something.” A summer cold! Sheesh! That had to be the lamest excuse ever.

  At 84 Gram was too old to hear the truth though. It might put too much strain on her heart or some other vital organ if she knew that, at that very moment, an evil and very alive buffalo was glaring at us from a painting just above her head. Gram recently had some minor heart surgery. So Mom was forever warning me, “BJ, your grandmother is old and you mustn’t do anything to upset her. Her heart can’t take it.”

  I knew I had to give Gram a reason for my being so jumpy or she would worry herself into a conniption fit and probably call Mom at work and get her all riled up as well. I didn’t need Mom on my case after all I had already been through today. How could I put it though? I couldn’t very well tell Gram that I had lost control of a bodily function when the characters in her painting had suddenly come roaring to life.

  Then I had a light bulb moment.

  Since it was her painting, perhaps she could tell me the history behind it and shed some light on this mystery. It certainly couldn’t hurt to ask. “Where did you get that painting, Gram?” My voice shook as I pointed behind me to the work of art hanging above the fireplace.

  “Oh, so that’s it.” She looked greatly relieved as she bit into a freshly baked chocolate chip and pecan cookie and relaxed in her favorite recliner. “I see you noticed it too.”

  “Noticed what, Gram?” Her words sparked my interest. Had she seen the weird light and the buffalo’s roaming eyes? Had the man in the painting chatted her up also? If so she was holding up remarkably well for someone who wasn’t supposed to get upset, while I, seventy years younger, was on the verge of nervous collapse.

  “You’ll probably think me a crazy old coot whose mind isn’t what is used to be. Nevertheless, I’ve had a funny feeling about that painting ever since I brought it down from the attic this morning. And, to be honest with you, I really don’t even know why I bothered. Isn’t that strange?” She picked up a ham and cheese sandwich and handed it to me.

  Satisfied that I was eating, she continued with her story. “I was in the attic looking for some old dress patterns and having my morning conversation with the Lord, asking Him couldn’t He send us just enough rain to settle the dust, when I noticed the painting.” She took a bite of sandwich and chewed on it for at least half an hour, (she had forgotten to put her bottom teeth in again) then slowly sipped her tea before continuing. “I know this won’t make any sense to you, but when I first saw the painting I was drawn to it. I felt…let’s see what is the word… compelled. I felt compelled to bring it down and hang it up. So, I did.”

  “What do you mean you felt compelled to bring the painting down?” Another icy cold chill crept down my spine. This was getting weirder by the minute. One person might imagine something, but when two people have the same dark feelings about an object - it’s more than just their imaginations at work.

  “It’s hard to explain.” She tried to laugh it off, but I could tell she was as unnerved as I was. “I’m sure it has to sound crazy, but one minute I was dusting away cobwebs from a box of old dress patterns and the next I was standing in front of that painting. And before I even took notice of what I was doing the painting was in my hands and I was carrying it down the stairs.”

  Actually, it did sound sort of crazy. I didn’t dare tell her that though. “Do you know anything about the man in the painting, Gram?”

  I could tell the wheels were spinning in her brain as she tried hard to remember something that wouldn’t come to her. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I think my grandmother gave me that painting when your great grandfather and I first set up housekeeping. But whoever painted it was certainly a talented artist, wasn’t he? That buffalo looks like he could pick up his hooves and walk right off the canvas if he wanted to.”

  I tried to swallow around the knot that was lodged in my throat like a sideways fishbone. “Yes, he was very… talented.” Following Gram’s gaze I turned and thankfully found that the dull lifeless eyes of the buffalo were dark chocolate again. “It looks...pretty…real.”

  “Yes, it does.” She moved to sit beside me on the sofa with a worried frown and picked at the fringe on one of her sofa pillows. “Is that what frightened you, BJ?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” I didn’t want to talk about me. “Gram, have you noticed anything else unusual about the painting? Anything at all?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have. Well, other than the strange compulsion to bring it down from the attic. I still can’t imagine what possessed me to do that. It looks so out of place in here and it really doesn’t go with the décor at all. And since the painting seems to give you the willies, would you be a dear and carry it back up to the attic where it belongs?”

  I had no idea who Willie was, but she was right about that painting giving me the creeps. Although, when she asked me to carry that…that…thing…to the attic, I knew Gram’s dementia was kicking in with a gusto.

  She COULD NOT honestly expect me to touch that dreadful thing!

  Was she crazy!

  No way!

  Not in this lifetime!

  Nope!

  Not happening!

  Nada!

  Chapter 4

  Unfortunately, there was one slight problem. How to refuse Gram’s request without coming off as a complete wuss? I knew Gram, and if I didn’t haul the painting to the attic she wouldn’t hesitate to lug it back up herself. And if I let that happen Mom would ground me for the remainder of summer and on into the winter months when she found out. And trust me, Miss Radar Ears finds out everything.

  I wondered if it was possible to get the monstrosity down without touching it or looking at it? Where was Bill Nye the Science Guy with the answers when you needed him? Or I could grow a spine, man up, listen to the Nike commercials and Just Do It. That settled it!

  Drawing a deep breath, I stepped up on the hearth with my eyes squeezed shut so tightly they hurt. This was crazy! This was suicidal! I already knew the man and the buffalo were out to get me. And here I was considering holding them in the palm of my hands?

  Okay, maybe they couldn’t haunt me with Gram watching. Nothing had happened since she had been in the room. Maybe there was a ghost code of ethics or something. Hopefully, I was safe for the time being. Mom had always told me when I was scared to think happy thoughts. Happy thoughts? That was easy. Thoughts of Megan Cobb seemed to make me the happiest, so I imagined holding her while we danced at the eighth grade dance.

  Whatever was happening with the real painting, I didn’t want to know about. If the man in the painting was doing cartwheels and the buffalo was serving afternoon tea to a congregation of skunks, fine! I didn’t want to see it. I just wanted to get this entire episode over with. Done! Finished! And never see this stupid painting again. Ever!

  Okay. I was ready. Picturing Megan Cobb twirling in my arms like they do on Dancing With the Stars, I reached out my hands and grabbed the heavy painting, lifted it down and eased it to the mantle. There. Good. No
thing had happened. So far! However, I will have to admit it was one of the scariest moments of my entire life. I had my hands on the frame that surrounded a couple of what?...ghosts?...who had already attempted to blind me, drown me, deafen me, and scare me to death.

  Well, at least the buffalo hadn’t kicked me between the eyes with one of his huge hooves. Yet! Or jumped out of the painting and trampled me to a bloody pulp. Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to be feeling talkative at the moment. And, best of all, the river wasn’t rising. These were all promising signs and gave me a tiny sliver of hope that perhaps the worst was over.

  But the painting weighed a ton. How had Gram carted it down from the attic alone? “Gram, you shouldn’t have carried this heavy thing downstairs.” My eyes were still squeezed shut and mere inches from the painting. “You could have tripped and fallen down the steps. Mom and Grandma Bert would be mad enough to spit fire and totally blame me if they knew about it.”

  She looked at me in a very odd way. “BJ, I doubt that painting weighs 5 pounds. For crying out loud, I’m not that old and feeble yet!” Then she huffed like I might have offended her (oh boy, liver and onions for supper tonight). “Anyway bring it upstairs and I’ll pull down the ladder to the attic.”

  Five pounds? Wow! Dementia must also alter your ability to judge how much something weighs, because this thing weighed at least fifty pounds. “Okay, I can do this!” Taking it in both hands I lowered it slowly, silently praying the large canvas wouldn’t cause me to get overbalanced and fall. I was almost to the floor with it. Whew!

  I bent my knees to lower it to the hearth and the back of the painting snagged on something. Of all the rotten luck! I had to be cursed! Or either the buffalo had his tail wrapped around one of the fireplace andirons and wouldn’t let go. I tugged once and nothing happened. “Let go you stupid beast!”

  “What was that, son?” Gram asked. “Were you talking to me?”

  “No Gram, I think the painting is hung on something.” I tugged again, harder, but the blasted thing wouldn’t budge an inch. There was no other way around it. I had to open my eyes and see what the confounded thing was hung on. Or worse, what was hanging on to it. I couldn’t open my eyes now. Not with the buffalo’s piercing eyes inches from my face!

  I gave one final tug. Too hard! I felt myself falling backward and opening my eyes reached up with one hand to clutch the mantle in a determined effort to keep from crashing to the floor, again. There was the buffalo’s flat face level with mine. I did what I had been so careful not to do. I looked into his dark penetrating stare and our eyes locked. It was all my worst nightmares combined in living breathing Technicolor!

  I am not stretching the truth one bit when I tell you that being face to face with that buffalo was more terrifying than standing face to face with Freddie Krueger, Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers all at the same time, with each of them carrying their favorite implements of torture.

  As I gazed into his eyes I could see my own wild-eyed image reflected in the deep black pools. And then to complete my lesson in terror, the creature blinked! “Holy catfish sh… droppings!” He winked at me! In a daze I registered the fact that his pupils were huge when they first opened, but when the light hit them they quickly shrunk back down to normal. Just like mine. This buffalo was so alive!

  I couldn’t move. I was in a total state of shock. My breath was coming in rapid, squeaky little gasps and I almost lost control of another bodily function for the second time in one day. It was then that I noticed the air from my mouth was causing the buffalo’s thick eyelashes to flutter softly against the velvety fur on his face. This was too much for me!

  Forgetting about Gram and her weak heart, I found my voice and screamed like I was on the Intimidator ride at Carowinds. As I did, the painting slipped from my sweating palms and landed on the brick hearth followed by the sound of breaking wood and shattering glass.

  “BJ!” Gram cried, rushing to my side. “Lord have mercy! What on earth happened? Are you hurt?”

  “No, Gram, I’m fine.” My voice was shaking so violently that it was barely above a whisper. “I accidentally dropped it.”

  “Good gracious, what’s wrong with you today?” She was clutching my shoulders from behind. “Get down from there this instant before you give me a heart attack! No, don’t move. You’ll be cut to ribbons by all these shards of glass.”

  Good, I was glad she didn’t expect me to move because I doubted I could even if the legendary Bigfoot was after me. “Just let me stay here for a couple minutes and I’ll clean this mess up, Gram. I promise.”

  “Now just never you mind about this mess. I’m worried about you. Why, I never heard a more terrifying scream in all my born days! I should probably call your mom. Come to think of it you have been acting strange ever since you came in from the sun. I think you may have gotten too hot outside.”

  “No, don’t do that, Gram.” That was the last thing I needed. “I just got overbalanced there for a minute…that’s all. I’m okay now… really.”

  Truthfully? I was far from okay. I was deathly afraid that if I looked down, to see where to put my feet among the broken glass, I would see the buffalo staring at me with a piece of jagged glass poking from each of his bloody eyes. I was almost positive that if that happened Gram would be dialing 911. So, what to do? I mean my choices were limited at best. I couldn’t just stand here all day frozen to the same spot. Fortunately, Gram came to my rescue.

  “Don’t move a muscle, BJ! You just stay right where you are until I get this mess cleaned up.” As she headed toward the laundry room in search of the vacuum cleaner I heard her mumble, “My heavens, how will I ever get all those tiny pieces of glass out of my carpet? I will have to call a professional carpet man I imagine.”

  Just relax and remain calm, I told myself. Think happy thoughts. Yeah right! Even Megan Cobb couldn’t get my mind off this buffalo. I tried to think of fishing at Rocky River, going kayaking on Lake Tillery, camping on the Blue Ridge Parkway, or going to the Outer Banks for vacation. Nothing worked. The buffalo took center stage in my head.

  Above the sounds of my own heavy breathing I heard the pieces of broken glass hitting the bottom of the trashcan. Surely Gram was almost finished. I was so hot I was about to pass out and my clothes were soaked with sweat. I wondered if this was what some people referred to as having a nervous breakdown. Well, I could guarantee that my nerves were teetering on the very edge of their breaking point.

  When Gram finally told me it was safe to step down I took a quick glance at the floor, just to make sure my feet weren’t going to land on anything… furry, and stepped down. I nervously turned around to find the painting in her hands. The broken frame and glass were in the trashcan.

  “I’ll just carry this back up to the attic myself.” Gram looked at me with a worried frown. “ I’ll be right back, son.”

  Sweeter words I had never heard. Peering up at the wall above the fireplace I found just a plain, ordinary, non-sinister wall. I plopped down on the sofa and concentrated on slowing my racing heart, then took a long drink of tea and bit into a sandwich that tasted like cardboard.

  By the time Gram came downstairs I had calmed down slightly and was actually beginning to feel bad about destroying a painting that had obviously been in her family for many years. “I’m sorry about the painting, Gram. I didn’t mean to drop it. It just slipped out of my hands.”

  She stood over me wringing her hands. “What has you so worked up, BJ?” she asked, ignoring my explanation. “I’ve never seen you like this. You know you can tell me anything. What’s bothering you, son?”

  I wanted to. I really needed to tell someone in the worst way. I couldn’t tell Gram the truth though. It might cause her weak heart to act up. “It’s nothing, Gram. I’m just sorry about your painting.”

  “Don’t give it another thought. Anyway, the painting wasn’t even damaged. Only the frame and glass were broken. I can always buy another frame if I ever decide to hang it again, whic
h I doubt I will. I still can’t figure out...” she began, and then shook her head and continued, “Never mind. It’s over now.”

  “Yeah, it’s over.” As I glanced up at the ceiling I had to wonder if storing the painting away in the attic would really put an end to this waking nightmare.

  Then, as she had everyday for as long as I could remember, Gram flipped on the TV precisely at 6:00 and plopped down in her favorite recliner to watch the evening news and weather. Why are older folks so devoted to the news anyway? Gram plans her entire day around the midday and evening broadcast.

  Just as the screen came into view we heard that annoying warning signal, which would be following by a crawl across the bottom of the screen. SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING FOR THE FOLLOWING COUNTIES: STANLY, UNION, ANSON, AND MECKLENBURG. We live in Stanly County.

  “Hallelujah! Thank you Jesus!” Gram shouted to the heavens, jumping up to spin around the room gaily. “It looks like the good Lord is about to answer our prayers and bless us with some rain!”

  Looking out the window I saw dark clouds gathering in the distance. That was a sight we hadn’t seen in many moons. We were in for some nasty weather and it was approaching fast. “I’ll go put my four-wheeler under the shed, Gram. You better get your bed sheets off the clothesline if you don’t want them blown into the next county.”

  I relaxed on the porch swing to enjoy the cool breeze and the sweet smell of rain being blown in by the storm. Gram was carrying her clothesbasket inside with a girlish spring in her step and joyously singing, “Whaaaaaaat a friend we have in Jeeeeesus!”

  The temperature on the outside thermometer had read 102 earlier, but the air in front of the storm was a good 20 degrees cooler and felt like pure heaven on my sweat-drenched skin. I felt my frazzled nerves slowly begin to calm as I pushed against the floor of the porch to set the swing in motion. Outside everything seemed normal, while inside the house the buffalo’s presence had filled me with heart stopping terror that no thirteen year old should ever have to deal with.