The Guardian of Holiwell

by Barb Mater

Miranda Finkelstein crossed her long legs in the cramped space between the rows of auditorium seats. The Holiwell College Anthropology Conference was turning out to be very dull. Two whole days and nights of this, she thought. What did I get myself into? It was way past 4 p.m., and she had been sitting next to her friend and mentor, Professor Declan Dunn, for almost three hours as the speakers on the stage presented their talks. Declan had straightened his glasses when he saw the first lecturer, a young blonde in a smart little red suit, who discussed archaeological methods, but by the time the second speaker took over, he was yawning.

Miranda knew that they weren’t just there for the conference. Their university was conveniently paying their way, and perhaps they would make some valuable professional contacts, but she and Declan had another agenda in mind. A new case had come to their attention only a few days before.

* * * *

He had come bursting into the college physics lab where she was working, with a supermarket tabloid, the words “miracle” and “Pennsylvania” blazing across the front page. “Miranda, take a look at this! It might be the real thing!”

“Let me guess,” she had offered. “It happened – supposedly – near that place they’re having the conference. Right?”

He nodded. “Amazing, don’t you think? It’s almost as if we were meant to go see for ourselves.”

Don’t make me roll my eyes at you, she’d thought. But as usual, she couldn’t resist coming along to see what would happen.

* * * * *

Now Declan fidgeted in his seat as the elderly scholar on the stage droned on dryly, reading page after page of interviews with South American natives on local customs and beliefs.

Declan fidgeted again, and he and Miranda almost bumped heads. “Be careful, okay?” she scolded.

Declan shushed her.

“When does this get over?” Miranda whispered, pointing to the wall clock.
 

In front of them, a good-looking man of about 45, in a dark blue suit, turned to them with a charming grin. “Pretty soon, I think,” he whispered back. “I’d better save my turn for later.” He held up a thick folder of lecture notes. There was something familiar about his prominent nose and big brown eyes, and he had just a trace of an English accent.

Miranda turned to Declan. “Who?” she mouthed.

Declan’s bored look had vanished. As the audience began to applaud politely at the end of the lecture, they all stood up and the man in front of them turned around again.

 Declan leaned toward him. “Dr. MacKensie? From the Georgetown Institute?”

He nodded. “Jonathan, please. And you are…?”

“Declan Dunn, Northwestern Oregon. I’ve read your work. Oh, and this is my assistant, Miranda. We’ve both read your Vinland study.”

MacKensie shook hands firmly but briefly with Declan, then lingered over Miranda a moment in admiration of her slim lace-banded throat and youthful figure. With her deadpan cool, she lifted her chin a quarter of an inch and asked, “Are you the next speaker?”

“I’m afraid so,” MacKensie replied, undaunted, “but thankfully they’ve run out of time, and I’ll have to give my talk in the morning.”

“In the morning?” Miranda turned to Declan. “What are we doing tonight? Everybody’s come all the way to Pennsylvania for this conference; isn’t there an evening session?”

“First night’s an icebreaker,” Declan told her. “And I’m looking forward to meeting some colleagues.”

She didn’t bat an eyelash. “I think you just did.”

MacKensie was looking around him. A couple of stringy-haired young men in tropical shirts were approaching from the back of the room. They carried notebooks, tape recorders and cameras. Oh no, fans! He avoided their attempts to catch his eye. “Tell you what,” he said to Declan, “I know a pub nearby if you two would care to join me for drinks.”

“We’d be delighted,” Declan exclaimed, before Miranda could protest that the last thing she wanted right now was to sit anywhere and listen to more anthropology. What had happened to their plans for a quiet dinner in a good restaurant?

“This way,” MacKensie urged them to the nearest door.

* * * * *

The pub was crowded by the time they got there. Declan spotted the red-suited young woman from the conference standing alone in the crush of people in the bar, and invited her to join them. “Love to,” she agreed, but then raised an eyebrow. “I’m expecting someone…”

“Fine, fine.” Declan nodded expansively. “The more the merrier.”

They sat down at a large table, which was still being cleared from the previous guests. Miranda slipped her shoes off as they ordered drinks. Declan turned to the newcomer. “Enjoyed your talk there, um,…”

“Shelley Thompson, from Holiwell.” She shook hands all around as introductions were made. “Are you speaking, Mr. Dunn?”

The waitress arrived with a pitcher of beer and a glass of white wine for Miranda, and took their food orders. Miranda, having looked forward to broiled salmon by candlelight, decided she could live with a chili burger and a side of fried mushrooms.
“I’m hoping to get together an informal discussion on a case I’ve been reading about,” Declan said. He turned to his senior colleague. “What do you think of this, Jonathan?”
He handed the professor a folder of faxes and news clippings from the case. “The fax sheets are from the local librarian. I called her and she got me some background on the site of the phenomenon. Seems there’s quite a bit of local folklore on the subject of this well, or spring or whatever it is. I want to check it out myself before we go back.”

MacKensie set down his beer and got his glasses out of his jacket pocket. “Hmm… thunderstorm, family in old house, tree falls on house and demolishes it.” He frowned, turning the clipping over. “But the family got out just in time, because the little boy heard the dog barking outside and ran to find it. Mother and sister ran down the driveway after him and just made it away from the house when the tree fell. Dad was at work.” He looked up. “Must have been quite a shock, having their house destroyed, and such a near miss for them, too. But what was that about a well?”

Shelley Thompson was nodding attentively. “I know the neighborhood. The property next door has a well that’s been known for generations as a local shrine. The town of Holiwell takes its name from that.”

Declan looked at her, thinking. “Ah, yes. The well is supposed to be the home of the local protective spirit. The neighborhood is full of people who have drunk the water, and it’s famous for narrow escapes. This time it appears the spirit of the well sent a miracle warning.”

“If it was a miracle,” Miranda pointed out. “Could just be a coincidence. Dogs bark when it storms.”

Declan nodded, thinking of his dog, Mole, who hid under the bed and whined.

“Except,” said a voice just behind her – at which Miranda turned to see a wiry man in flashy clothes, with slicked-back reddish hair graying at the temples – “when the dog is dead. D-e-a-d, passed away, kaput. That dog hadn’t done any barkin’ for three days, since Daddy took it to the vet and found out it had incurable cancer. He said it ran away so the kid wouldn’t feel bad.”

Miranda looked from the speaker to Declan, Shelley and MacKensie. “Anybody know this guy?”

“Edgar Benedek,” he introduced himself, sliding a chair up to the table backwards between her and Shelley and seating himself. “National Register. I wrote that article. Shelley, baby, you are lookin’ fine tonight. How’s your psychic sister? Still feudin’ about the family fortune?”

Shelley gave him an indulgent smile, but before she could answer, Benedek nodded to MacKensie. “What’s shakin’, J J? You here on behalf of the Paranormal Department?”

MacKensie looked furious. “Benedek, how dare you horn in on a scholarly conference with your…”

Benedek leaned back and spread his arms. “Hey, free country, ain’t it? And we’re off campus now, Professor. I’m just here doin’ a follow-up piece on the ongoing investigation by the country’s top anthropologists. Too bad Professor Moorhouse couldn’t be here, but I guess you’ll do, Jon ol’ buddy.”

The waitress was back with a tray of food. Plates were passed and everybody began to eat except Benedek. “Would you care for something?” the waitress asked.

“No, thanks, I brought my own.” Benedek hoisted a silver and black nylon gym bag from the floor next to him and brought out a bottle of ginseng powder, a quarter of a watermelon, wrapped in plastic, and a Swiss army knife with fork and spoon attachments. Conversation stopped. Feeling eyes on him, the reporter looked up. “What? This stuff is brain food, keeps ya focused. If you can control the seeds, of course.” This last remark came after a seed spurted out of the melon and glanced off the beer pitcher, burying itself in MacKensie’s french fries.

Carefully ignoring Benedek, Declan turned to Jonathan MacKensie. “Would you be interested in going with us to the well, Jonathan? I know your recent work has been along more conventional lines, but doesn’t a case like this stir the old curiosity? I mean, isn’t it just possible that spiritual forces really do intervene — ”

Jonathan raised a hand dismissively. “No, thank you. I’m honored that you would ask, but my shadow chasing days are something I’ve spent a lot of energy living down. Not that I disagree with the importance of the work you’re doing, Declan. I am sure you will find a rational explanation – and when you do, the credit will be all yours.”

Miranda leaned forward. “But what if there isn’t a rational explanation?”

“Exactly!” Benedek waved his ginseng. “This is not about rational. This is news! And besides, Jon-boy, think what Moorhouse will say when she finds out you had the chance to cover this story and you passed it up! There goes your raise for next year!”

Jonathan looked at him sharply. “As you very well know, Professor Moorhouse has retired, Benedek. Although I must admit, her influence is still very strong at the Institute. I am now chairman of my department and I have too much to lose by getting involved with…”

“Isn’t it important, then, for you to present the scientific point of view?” Shelley Thompson, who had been silently taking in the conversation, laid a long-fingered hand on MacKensie’s arm, just for a second. “I certainly want to. I know Benny will agree. He’s been studying with my sister at the Holiwell Shrine since he did the story you have with you, to, er, make an objective evaluation, haven’t you, Benny?”

“Objective as always,” Benedek grinned.

Jonathan looked amused. “As always.”

“And as I said,” Shelley went on, “I know the neighborhood. My family used to get water there, in the late summer when our own well went dry. Most people on that road did. We thought it brought us good luck to go there, along with the water.”

“What kind of good luck?” Miranda asked.

“Well, there was the time my Dad missed a major town meeting because he stopped to get water there. A fight broke out at the meeting, and two board members made fools of themselves and landed in jail, which cleared the way for Dad to be appointed to a very good job.” Shelley sipped her beer. “And a couple of years later, a neighbor woman changed her travel plans because she had a dream about a train wreck after drinking water from the well. Sure enough, the train derailed, but she wasn’t on it.”

Miranda looked thoughtful. “Could be coincidence…”

“Come on, Jonathan, it’ll be interesting,” Declan urged, swallowing a bite of hamburger. “I know my chairman will be so sorry he missed it all.”

Miranda almost laughed, doubting that stuffy Dr. Gale ever entertained the concept of fun, let alone admitted he missed something. She looked at the pub clock. “We have an hour of daylight left.”

* * * * *
 

They all followed Shelley out to the end of the village of Holiwell, down a road where a few old colonial farm houses were scattered among more modern ranch style homes. Declan parked at the side of the road in front of the wrecked house. The old white two-story frame house sat back a good distance from the road, and half of a giant maple tree, just beginning to turn from summer green to autumn red, was lying on top of its caved-in roof. A four-paned window had been shattered, and one of its red louvered shutters lay in the yard below.

On the right, backlit by the sinking sun, amid a field of tall grass and blue and yellow wild flowers blowing in the stiff afternoon breeze, sat a dome-shaped building with a covered walkway leading out to a gazebo behind it. Two cars were parked at the side of the dome.

Shelley parked her little red Neon across the driveway from Declan, on the side toward the dome. She got out of the car and came over to Declan. She waved toward the dome. “That’s the shrine, over there. Really it’s more of a lodge or visitors’ center. Local history club meets there, and my sister gives talks to student groups and, um, New Ager types. The well is behind it, in the gazebo.”

Declan nodded. “The buildings look new.”

“They are. Built in the eighties, after my sister and I inherited the family fortune. This is what Sally did with her half.” Shelley sighed. “She wasn’t interested in graduate school.” She folded her arms and stared at the dome, with a faintly resentful expression.

“Sounds like you don’t approve.” Declan lowered the tailgate of his truck and began handing equipment to Miranda. Shelley shrugged.

Jonathan MacKensie’s white Ford arrived. He parked in front of Shelley, got out, and came over to the others.

Benedek had arrived during the conversation and started unloading the trunk of his car, which he had parked in the driveway, ignoring the “No trespassing” sign on the post which held the mailbox. Since the yard was pretty flat, his car and Declan’s truck were almost touching.

“EMF meter,” Declan said, handing the instrument to Miranda.

“Check,” she answered.

“Check,” Benny added, waving a similar detector.

“Camera.” Declan sited the picturesque dome and gazebo across the field and snapped a frame to make sure the film was started, then slung his Canon 35 mm around his own neck.

“Check.” Benny shoved a Fun Saver into his shirt pocket.

“Motion sensor,” Declan recited, as Miranda accepted the carrying case which held the apparatus.

“Check.” Benny held up one just like it.

“Tape recorder.” Declan strung the small device’s long strap over his shoulder.

“Check.” Benny brandished a Walkman.

“M & M’s.” Declan smiled, holding out a large bag of the candies.

Miranda took a handful and ate them.

Benny reached over. “Don’t mind if I do.”

While chewing, he and Miranda gave each other appraising looks. She was trying to decide whether it was cooler to stare him down or to look away as if unimpressed, when Declan nudged her. “I want to check around the house and the tree. See if we pick up any readings,” he said.

Shelley headed for the shrine, with Jonathan and Benny.

* * * *

A second “No Trespassing” sign was posted on the front door of the house, and a note from the local fire department warned Declan and Miranda that it was unsafe to enter. “No duh,” she commented.

Declan walked gingerly along the open front porch, from the west window that had been shattered by the impact of the falling tree, to the east side of the house. The floor creaked with every step. He noted an old couch with a flowered slipcover flapping in the wind, a child-size plastic lawn chair, an empty pet dish and some toys on the floor. He took a picture.

Miranda followed, with the EMF meter. “No readings,” she said. “Listen, the house is creaking just from us being on the porch. I don’t feel like going in there, do you?”

Declan shook his head. “Let’s look at the tree, what’s left of it.”

They went over to the old maple tree. It had been split in half about four feet from the ground. One half of the tree was on the house, the other still upright.

Declan took another picture. He frowned. “I don’t think lightning did this. There are no burn marks. The tree must have already been split, and the wind caught the branches and pushed the weakest part over on the house.”

“Right,” she agreed. ‘It’s a pretty old tree, from the size. I hope the standing half is…”

For the second time that night, Benedek’s voice interrupted them. “Hey, pal, whatcha findin’? Evil spirits released as ancient maple falls prey to September storm? Terrible troll topples timber?” Benny had come across the field with Jonathan, Shelley and a woman who looked like a long-haired version of Shelley, dressed in a long gauze skirt and a peasant blouse.

Her hoop earrings swinging with her stride, she walked up to Declan and Miranda and held out her hand. “Peace,” she said with a wide smile, brushing windblown hair from her face. “I’m Sally.”

Declan shook hands. “Peace,” he said, like a good anthropologist accepting the local custom.

Miranda gave her an appraising stare. “Whatever.”

Sally gestured toward the dome. “I wanted to invite you to come and talk with the people who own the house – they’re staying at the shrine for now, till they figure out where they’re going to live.”

Benedek was prowling around the perimeter of the house. “Be careful,” Miranda called, over the sound of the wind. “The floor is – “

“I can read, thanks,” Benedek shouted back. Creaking across the front porch, he pushed the front door open. “Anybody coming? Jonathan?”

“I’m not so foolhardy as I once was,” Jonathan said. “Besides, I want to interview the people at the shrine. It’s your life, Benedek. Watch out.”

Miranda hesitated between curiosity and common sense. Peering into the gloom of the house’s interior, she was startled by a white hazy shape that seemed to rush down the hallway in front of them. “What was that?”

“What did you see?” asked Declan.

“I…nothing. Just a trick of the light.” But after a moment she stepped toward the door.

Declan looked uncertain. “Miranda,” he said, “you goin’? Be careful.”

* * * *

At the shrine, Declan, Jonathan, Shelley and Sally sat on benches on the wide back porch overlooking the field and the path to the gazebo, just out of sight of the house. Sally’s dog, Buddy, a black lab retriever, lazed and dozed at her feet. On the third bench sat the family from the wrecked house. Sally introduced them to the professors: Jeff and Patti Kelly and their children. Patti held a little girl about three years old on her lap. The other child was ten year old Jimmy, a sturdy freckled boy with brown hair grown long over the summer, who kept petting the dog. The whole family was dressed in worn blue jeans. Ordinary people, it seemed. Yet something very surprising had happened to them.

“So what do you do, Jeff?” asked Declan.

“I work in a machine shop,” Jeff told him. “And you’re a teacher, right?”

Declan nodded. “At a college in Oregon. I also investigate miraculous phenomena. I read the story about your son’s experience, and since I was going to be in town anyway, I thought I’d see if you’d talk to me about it.”

“I don’t mind,” said Jeff. “But I was at work. Patti and the kids were the ones at home.”

Patti sighed, slumping on the bench next to Jeff. “We’ve already told that reporter everything that happened. And he made it sound sort of crazy. I’d rather not discuss it any more if you don’t mind.”

Jeff put his arm around his wife. “It’s okay, hon. It’s better to have somebody know the way it really happened.”

* * * *

Miranda stepped inside the house. The wind whistled through the broken window.

“Here’s the staircase,” Benedek gestured to the right. “Staircases are favorites with otherworldly entities. How about a motion detector here? I’ll set mine up at the far end of the hallway.”

As Miranda began to unpack the motion detector, there was a groaning sound from the second floor and a shower of plaster sifted down from the ceiling in the next room.

“The wind must be rocking the tree up on the roof,” she said. They both stopped moving for a moment, but nothing more happened. “This is dangerous,” she frowned.

“All in a day’s work for the professional parapsychologist,” Benny grinned.

“You’re a professional?” she asked. “I thought you were a reporter.”

Benny shrugged. “Among other things.”

She got the detector set up and turned to look down the hall and see what Benedek was up to. And just in case the white thing showed up again...

Benedek was going down the hallway, snapping pictures of each room along the way. “Living room, dining room, kitchen,” he announced to his pocket tape recorder. “Living room window’s broken. Door frame is crooked. Kitchen’s in bad shape, not much left of it. Ceiling collapsed, stuff fell through from above. Walls are buckled. Now back to the entrance.”

“You sound more like a building inspector,” Miranda remarked. “What’s on the EMF meter?”

He turned the instrument on. “Hmm. Lotsa background.” He slapped the sensor. “Wonder when this thing was calibrated last." Tuning the settings, he chattered on. “Well, I didn’t actually graduate from Georgetown. I think Jonathan’s boss lady didn’t like my style. She was pretty uptight. But I did audit a course, sort of, at Rosebridge… until the professor recognized me. Guess I shoulda worn a baseball cap, like a student. There, this is working. But I can’t tell about the fields. It – it keeps changing.”

As he turned back toward Miranda, more plaster fell.

“Look out!” she yelled, as the whole ceiling of the hallway between them collapsed, along with a large section of inside wall below it.

Benedek turned to run, but he was not fast enough. The ceiling plaster and the broken wall fell on him, pinning him underneath and raising a cloud of dust. Miranda could not tell for sure, but it looked as if some of the dust blew toward the kitchen door at the end of the hallway. “Ouch!” Benny hollered, struggling to get out from under it. A splintered upright was across his legs, held down by the heap of debris on top of it. He could not get out.

As Miranda instinctively started down the hallway toward him to see if she could help, the house groaned ominously and they both felt the floor sway under them.

“Got a cell phone?” she asked. He shook his head. “And mine’s in the truck. I’m going for help.”

Benedek grimaced. “So much for secrecy.”

* * * * *

Patti set her little girl down on the bench next to her. The child snuggled up at her mother’s side. “I was in the kitchen cleaning up from supper,” Patti began. “It was raining hard, and there was thunder and lightning. I yelled to Jimmy, in the front room, to turn off the TV. He didn’t answer me so I went in there. The front door was open and Jimmy was gone.”

Jimmy looked up at this. “I didn’t hear you yelling at me, Mom. But I heard Chappie barking outside. That’s when I went outside to call him.”

Patti nodded. “Corrie was sleeping on the couch. I picked her up – I don’t like to leave her alone in the house – and ran outside, calling to Jimmy. I saw him down by the road at the end of the driveway, holding onto the mailbox post and calling the dog.” She looked at her husband. He met her eyes and shook his head slightly. Don’t tell him yet. Don’t break his heart, not when our home is gone and the pain is fresh. Patti went on: “But the storm was so loud, he couldn’t hear me. So I started walking down the driveway, carrying Corrie, and I was about halfway to Jimmy when the tree fell.” She shivered at the memory. “We were out of there just in time.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kelly,” Declan said softly. “I know it’s hard for you to talk about it.” He looked at Jimmy, not wanting to upset the boy by asking questions.

Jimmy spoke right up. “It’s okay,” he said. “I wrote a report about it for school. When the tree fell, I turned around and saw Mom with my little sister. I was glad they got out okay. But I never found Chap.”

Jonathan had been taking in the conversation without intruding. Now he spoke to the boy. “Perhaps he didn’t want you to find him right then,” he suggested.

Jimmy pondered this. “Maybe not,” he said slowly.

* * * *

Miranda headed to the front door, but found it jammed shut. The frame must have shifted. The kitchen door was down at the end of the hallway, now blocked with debris. She went into the living room, and began trying to open one of the windows. They were all painted shut. The broken window was the only way out. She looked around for something to finish the job of clearing the glass from the frame, and found a stick of wood from the basket by the fireplace. She knocked out as many as possible of the sharp fragments. It was much harder to break the dividing pieces that had held the four panes in place. In a few minutes she had accomplished this.

As she turned to grab a couch cushion to keep her from getting cut while climbing through, the house gave a lurch, and she fell to the floor. She got up and peeked into the hallway. It was getting dark, and there were no lights in the house, since the power wires had been disconnected for safety. “How are you doing?” she called to Benny.

“Ain’t doin’ much, I’ll tell ya,” he answered, spitting out plaster dust. “How about you?”
“I can get out now," she said, “But it’s a long way down.”

* * * * *

The twilight had deepened almost to darkness and the fireflies were playing over the field behind the shrine. Declan slapped a mosquito and Sally lit a citronella candle on the porch railing. At that moment Jimmy jumped to his feet. “I hear him!” he yelled. “It’s Chap, I know it is!”

The grownups looked puzzled. They had not heard anything. Buddy, Sally’s dog, stirred in his sleep.

“There it is again!” Jimmy insisted. Buddy got up and started barking. “Over there by our house,” Jimmy cried. “Dad, you can hear him, can’t you?”

Jeff shook his head. “With the wind blowing so hard, I don’t know how you can hear anything over there, Jimmy.” But Buddy was excited about something, and without waiting for the humans he took off running across the field. Jimmy followed. Sally grabbed flashlights from the shelf by the door, handed one to Jeff and one to Jonathan, and she and the men ran after Jimmy, who thankfully had a white t shirt on, making him easier to see than the black dog in the darkening field.

Shelley stayed on the porch with Patti and Corrie while Jonathan and Declan and Jeff pursued the boy and the dog. Patti’s eyes teared up and little Corrie said, “Don’t cry, Mommy.”

Jonathan and Declan reached the far side of the driveway where Buddy was barking at the broken window.

“Somebody’s in the window,” Sally exclaimed.

Jonathan shone his flashlight toward the window. Up there out of reach, they saw Miranda sitting on the sill trying to work up the courage to jump. “Don’t try it,” he advised. “We’ll find a ladder. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, took a deep breath, and let it out. “Benedek’s in there. The ceiling fell on him.”

Jonathan looked concerned. “How is he?”

“He’s okay, I think, but I couldn’t get him out.”

Jeff came around the corner of the house with Jimmy and saw Miranda. “Holy smokes. I’ll get the ladder." He hurried to the garage.

Buddy woofed curiously at Miranda. “Here, Buddy,” Sally called. He came to her, with Jimmy following.

While Jonathan reassured Miranda, Declan sprinted for the truck and the cell phone, where he quickly punched 911. Then he ran back, phone in hand. To lighten the moment, he took a flash picture of Miranda sitting in the window. She looked at him reprovingly.

Seconds later they heard the siren of the rescue truck.

Jeff set the ladder up against the window sill, and held it while Miranda climbed down. She tossed her head, trying to look unruffled. Declan put his arm around her shoulders and felt her shivering. “Cold out here,” he said quietly. She did not move away.

The rescue team arrived and brought a stretcher, some 2x4’s and high powered lanterns. They went into the house through the kitchen door. Using the 2x4’s, they braced the exposed beams overhead while they moved away the debris from Benedek and carried him out on the stretcher.

“Benedek,” Jonathan called as they came out, “are you all right?”

“Whoa, Jon, you shoulda seen the readings in there!” Benny yelled.

He was still chattering as they loaded him into the ambulance and drove him away to the hospital to be checked over.

“What’s with that guy?” Miranda asked. “Nothing seems to faze him.”

Jonathan chuckled. “He’s pretty upbeat most of the time. But I think I’ll pay a visit to the emergency room and see what the damages are.”

* * * *

A few days later, Miranda came into Declan’s office to find him on the phone with Jonathan MacKensie. “Yes,” Declan was saying, “it was a privilege to have your help, Jonathan. If there’s ever anything I can do for you please let me know. Oh, I still don’t know what it was that convinced Jimmy he was hearing his dog bark. Well, that could be, that’s what I thought at first too; it must have been another dog in the neighborhood, maybe even the one from the shrine. But then Sally’s dog was asleep at first, and when he woke up he heard it too. And we didn’t, I think that’s the key fact here. Jimmy heard something, something meant only for him. The first time it saved his family and later it saved Miranda and Benedek.”

Miranda was standing by the desk by this time, and Declan reached out and squeezed her arm affectionately. She gave him a hint of a smile.

“Oh, of course I wouldn’t say anything to the press,” Declan said into the phone. “Right, I hope someone managed to stifle Benedek this time. You say he had photos of the house interior? And he gave the disposable camera to you, to develop ‘cause he’s still housebound for a week or so? Can you lose the prints, so we don’t all get in the tabloids?” He chuckled.

Miranda had a store bag in her hand.

Declan covered the phone with his hand for a moment. “Lunch?”

She shook her head and took out an envelope from the local one-hour photo shop.

“What else you got in there?” he asked.

“Just something I picked up for a friend.” She showed him a Cleveland Indians baseball cap, then dropped it back into the bag.

“Your friend’s a Cleveland fan?” Declan motioned to her to show him the pictures, and she spread them out on the desk.

“Holy Moley,” Declan said softly as he looked at each one in turn. “Jonathan, I don’t know what you’re gonna think of this – but I’ll send you the extra prints of these. Yeah, I want to see his pictures too.”

In the snapshot of Miranda in the window, Declan had inadvertently included the whole group of people in the yard: Jonathan, Jeff, Sally, Jimmy and the dog, Buddy.

Something small and white and vaguely dog-shaped was sitting in front of the window, its head uplifted as if gazing at Miranda. And Buddy was looking straight at the white figure, interested but not poised for a challenge. As if it were a friend he knew...

-the end-The Guardian of Holiwell

by Barb Mater

Miranda Finkelstein crossed her long legs in the cramped space between the rows of auditorium seats. The Holiwell College Anthropology Conference was turning out to be very dull. Two whole days and nights of this, she thought. What did I get myself into? It was way past 4 p.m., and she had been sitting next to her friend and mentor, Professor Declan Dunn, for almost three hours as the speakers on the stage presented their talks. Declan had straightened his glasses when he saw the first lecturer, a young blonde in a smart little red suit, who discussed archaeological methods, but by the time the second speaker took over, he was yawning.
Miranda knew that they weren’t just there for the conference. Their university was conveniently paying their way, and perhaps they would make some valuable professional contacts, but she and Declan had another agenda in mind. A new case had come to their attention only a few days before.

* * * *

He had come bursting into the college physics lab where she was working, with a supermarket tabloid, the words “miracle” and “Pennsylvania” blazing across the front page. “Miranda, take a look at this! It might be the real thing!”
“Let me guess,” she had offered. “It happened – supposedly – near that place they’re having the conference. Right?”
He nodded. “Amazing, don’t you think? It’s almost as if we were meant to go see for ourselves.”
Don’t make me roll my eyes at you, she’d thought. But as usual, she couldn’t resist coming along to see what would happen.

* * * * *

Now Declan fidgeted in his seat as the elderly scholar on the stage droned on dryly, reading page after page of interviews with South American natives on local customs and beliefs.
Declan fidgeted again, and he and Miranda almost bumped heads. “Be careful, okay?” she scolded.
Declan shushed her.
“When does this get over?” Miranda whispered, pointing to the wall clock.
In front of them, a good-looking man of about 45, in a dark blue suit, turned to them with a charming grin. “Pretty soon, I think,” he whispered back. “I’d better save my turn for later.” He held up a thick folder of lecture notes. There was something familiar about his prominent nose and big brown eyes, and he had just a trace of an English accent.
Miranda turned to Declan. “Who?” she mouthed.
Declan’s bored look had vanished. As the audience began to applaud politely at the end of the lecture, they all stood up and the man in front of them turned around again. Declan leaned toward him. “Dr. MacKensie? From the Georgetown Institute?”
He nodded. “Jonathan, please. And you are…?”
“Declan Dunn, Northwestern Oregon. I’ve read your work. Oh, and this is my assistant, Miranda. We’ve both read your Vinland study.”
MacKensie shook hands firmly but briefly with Declan, then lingered over Miranda a moment in admiration of her slim lace-banded throat and youthful figure. With her deadpan cool, she lifted her chin a quarter of an inch and asked, “Are you the next speaker?”
“I’m afraid so,” MacKensie replied, undaunted, “but thankfully they’ve run out of time, and I’ll have to give my talk in the morning.”
“In the morning?” Miranda turned to Declan. “What are we doing tonight? Everybody’s come all the way to Pennsylvania for this conference; isn’t there an evening session?”
“First night’s an icebreaker,” Declan told her. “And I’m looking forward to meeting some colleagues.”
She didn’t bat an eyelash. “I think you just did.”
MacKensie was looking around him. A couple of stringy-haired young men in tropical shirts were approaching from the back of the room. They carried notebooks, tape recorders and cameras. Oh no, fans! He avoided their attempts to catch his eye. “Tell you what,” he said to Declan, “I know a pub nearby if you two would care to join me for drinks.”
“We’d be delighted,” Declan exclaimed, before Miranda could protest that the last thing she wanted right now was to sit anywhere and listen to more anthropology. What had happened to their plans for a quiet dinner in a good restaurant?
“This way,” MacKensie urged them to the nearest door.

* * * * *

The pub was crowded by the time they got there. Declan spotted the red-suited young woman from the conference standing alone in the crush of people in the bar, and invited her to join them. “Love to,” she agreed, but then raised an eyebrow. “I’m expecting someone…”
“Fine, fine.” Declan nodded expansively. “The more the merrier.”
They sat down at a large table, which was still being cleared from the previous guests. Miranda slipped her shoes off as they ordered drinks. Declan turned to the newcomer. “Enjoyed your talk there, um,…”
“Shelley Thompson, from Holiwell.” She shook hands all around as introductions were made. “Are you speaking, Mr. Dunn?”
The waitress arrived with a pitcher of beer and a glass of white wine for Miranda, and took their food orders. Miranda, having looked forward to broiled salmon by candlelight, decided she could live with a chili burger and a side of fried mushrooms.
“I’m hoping to get together an informal discussion on a case I’ve been reading about,” Declan said. He turned to his senior colleague. “What do you think of this, Jonathan?”
He handed the professor a folder of faxes and news clippings from the case. “The fax sheets are from the local librarian. I called her and she got me some background on the site of the phenomenon. Seems there’s quite a bit of local folklore on the subject of this well, or spring or whatever it is. I want to check it out myself before we go back.”
MacKensie set down his beer and got his glasses out of his jacket pocket. “Hmm… thunderstorm, family in old house, tree falls on house and demolishes it.” He frowned, turning the clipping over. “But the family got out just in time, because the little boy heard the dog barking outside and ran to find it. Mother and sister ran down the driveway after him and just made it away from the house when the tree fell. Dad was at work.” He looked up. “Must have been quite a shock, having their house destroyed, and such a near miss for them, too. But what was that about a well?”
Shelley Thompson was nodding attentively. “I know the neighborhood. The property next door has a well that’s been known for generations as a local shrine. The town of Holiwell takes its name from that.”
Declan looked at her, thinking. “Ah, yes. The well is supposed to be the home of the local protective spirit. The neighborhood is full of people who have drunk the water, and it’s famous for narrow escapes. This time it appears the spirit of the well sent a miracle warning.”
“If it was a miracle,” Miranda pointed out. “Could just be a coincidence. Dogs bark when it storms.”
Declan nodded, thinking of his dog, Mole, who hid under the bed and whined.
“Except,” said a voice just behind her – at which Miranda turned to see a wiry man in flashy clothes, with slicked-back reddish hair graying at the temples – “when the dog is dead. D-e-a-d, passed away, kaput. That dog hadn’t done any barkin’ for three days, since Daddy took it to the vet and found out it had incurable cancer. He said it ran away so the kid wouldn’t feel bad.”
Miranda looked from the speaker to Declan, Shelley and MacKensie. “Anybody know this guy?”
“Edgar Benedek,” he introduced himself, sliding a chair up to the table backwards between her and Shelley and seating himself. “National Register. I wrote that article. Shelley, baby, you are lookin’ fine tonight. How’s your psychic sister? Still feudin’ about the family fortune?”
Shelley gave him an indulgent smile, but before she could answer, Benedek nodded to MacKensie. “What’s shakin’, J J? You here on behalf of the Paranormal Department?”
MacKensie looked furious. “Benedek, how dare you horn in on a scholarly conference with your…”
Benedek leaned back and spread his arms. “Hey, free country, ain’t it? And we’re off campus now, Professor. I’m just here doin’ a follow-up piece on the ongoing investigation by the country’s top anthropologists. Too bad Professor Moorhouse couldn’t be here, but I guess you’ll do, Jon ol’ buddy.”
The waitress was back with a tray of food. Plates were passed and everybody began to eat except Benedek. “Would you care for something?” the waitress asked.
“No, thanks, I brought my own.” Benedek hoisted a silver and black nylon gym bag from the floor next to him and brought out a bottle of ginseng powder, a quarter of a watermelon, wrapped in plastic, and a Swiss army knife with fork and spoon attachments. Conversation stopped. Feeling eyes on him, the reporter looked up. “What? This stuff is brain food, keeps ya focused. If you can control the seeds, of course.” This last remark came after a seed spurted out of the melon and glanced off the beer pitcher, burying itself in MacKensie’s french fries.
Carefully ignoring Benedek, Declan turned to Jonathan MacKensie. “Would you be interested in going with us to the well, Jonathan? I know your recent work has been along more conventional lines, but doesn’t a case like this stir the old curiosity? I mean, isn’t it just possible that spiritual forces really do intervene — ”
Jonathan raised a hand dismissively. “No, thank you. I’m honored that you would ask, but my shadow chasing days are something I’ve spent a lot of energy living down. Not that I disagree with the importance of the work you’re doing, Declan. I am sure you will find a rational explanation – and when you do, the credit will be all yours.”
Miranda leaned forward. “But what if there isn’t a rational explanation?”
“Exactly!” Benedek waved his ginseng. “This is not about rational. This is news! And besides, Jon-boy, think what Moorhouse will say when she finds out you had the chance to cover this story and you passed it up! There goes your raise for next year!”
Jonathan looked at him sharply. “As you very well know, Professor Moorhouse has retired, Benedek. Although I must admit, her influence is still very strong at the Institute. I am now chairman of my department and I have too much to lose by getting involved with…”
“Isn’t it important, then, for you to present the scientific point of view?” Shelley Thompson, who had been silently taking in the conversation, laid a long-fingered hand on MacKensie’s arm, just for a second. “I certainly want to. I know Benny will agree. He’s been studying with my sister at the Holiwell Shrine since he did the story you have with you, to, er, make an objective evaluation, haven’t you, Benny?”
“Objective as always,” Benedek grinned.
Jonathan looked amused. “As always.”
“And as I said,” Shelley went on, “I know the neighborhood. My family used to get water there, in the late summer when our own well went dry. Most people on that road did. We thought it brought us good luck to go there, along with the water.”
“What kind of good luck?” Miranda asked.
“Well, there was the time my Dad missed a major town meeting because he stopped to get water there. A fight broke out at the meeting, and two board members made fools of themselves and landed in jail, which cleared the way for Dad to be appointed to a very good job.” Shelley sipped her beer. “And a couple of years later, a neighbor woman changed her travel plans because she had a dream about a train wreck after drinking water from the well. Sure enough, the train derailed, but she wasn’t on it.”
Miranda looked thoughtful. “Could be coincidence…”
“Come on, Jonathan, it’ll be interesting,” Declan urged, swallowing a bite of hamburger. “I know my chairman will be so sorry he missed it all.”
Miranda almost laughed, doubting that stuffy Dr. Gale ever entertained the concept of fun, let alone admitted he missed something. She looked at the pub clock. “We have an hour of daylight left.”
* * * * *
They all followed Shelley out to the end of the village of Holiwell, down a road where a few old colonial farm houses were scattered among more modern ranch style homes. Declan parked at the side of the road in front of the wrecked house. The old white two-story frame house sat back a good distance from the road, and half of a giant maple tree, just beginning to turn from summer green to autumn red, was lying on top of its caved-in roof. A four-paned window had been shattered, and one of its red louvered shutters lay in the yard below.
On the right, backlit by the sinking sun, amid a field of tall grass and blue and yellow wild flowers blowing in the stiff afternoon breeze, sat a dome-shaped building with a covered walkway leading out to a gazebo behind it. Two cars were parked at the side of the dome.
Shelley parked her little red Neon across the driveway from Declan, on the side toward the dome. She got out of the car and came over to Declan. She waved toward the dome. “That’s the shrine, over there. Really it’s more of a lodge or visitors’ center. Local history club meets there, and my sister gives talks to student groups and, um, New Ager types. The well is behind it, in the gazebo.”
Declan nodded. “The buildings look new.”
“They are. Built in the eighties, after my sister and I inherited the family fortune. This is what Sally did with her half.” Shelley sighed. “She wasn’t interested in graduate school.” She folded her arms and stared at the dome, with a faintly resentful expression.
“Sounds like you don’t approve.” Declan lowered the tailgate of his truck and began handing equipment to Miranda. Shelley shrugged.
Jonathan MacKensie’s white Ford arrived. He parked in front of Shelley, got out, and came over to the others.
Benedek had arrived during the conversation and started unloading the trunk of his car, which he had parked in the driveway, ignoring the “No trespassing” sign on the post which held the mailbox. Since the yard was pretty flat, his car and Declan’s truck were almost touching.
“EMF meter,” Declan said, handing the instrument to Miranda.
“Check,” she answered.
“Check,” Benny added, waving a similar detector.
“Camera.” Declan sited the picturesque dome and gazebo across the field and snapped a frame to make sure the film was started, then slung his Canon 35 mm around his own neck.
“Check.” Benny shoved a Fun Saver into his shirt pocket.
“Motion sensor,” Declan recited, as Miranda accepted the carrying case which held the apparatus.
“Check.” Benny held up one just like it.
“Tape recorder.” Declan strung the small device’s long strap over his shoulder.
“Check.” Benny brandished a Walkman.
“M & M’s.” Declan smiled, holding out a large bag of the candies.
Miranda took a handful and ate them.
Benny reached over. “Don’t mind if I do.”
While chewing, he and Miranda gave each other appraising looks. She was trying to decide whether it was cooler to stare him down or to look away as if unimpressed, when Declan nudged her. “I want to check around the house and the tree. See if we pick up any readings,” he said.
Shelley headed for the shrine, with Jonathan and Benny.

* * * *

A second “No Trespassing” sign was posted on the front door of the house, and a note from the local fire department warned Declan and Miranda that it was unsafe to enter. “No duh,” she commented.
Declan walked gingerly along the open front porch, from the west window that had been shattered by the impact of the falling tree, to the east side of the house. The floor creaked with every step. He noted an old couch with a flowered slipcover flapping in the wind, a child-size plastic lawn chair, an empty pet dish and some toys on the floor. He took a picture.
Miranda followed, with the EMF meter. “No readings,” she said. “Listen, the house is creaking just from us being on the porch. I don’t feel like going in there, do you?”
Declan shook his head. “Let’s look at the tree, what’s left of it.”
They went over to the old maple tree. It had been split in half about four feet from the ground. One half of the tree was on the house, the other still upright.
Declan took another picture. He frowned. “I don’t think lightning did this. There are no burn marks. The tree must have already been split, and the wind caught the branches and pushed the weakest part over on the house.”
“Right,” she agreed. ‘It’s a pretty old tree, from the size. I hope the standing half is…”
For the second time that night, Benedek’s voice interrupted them. “Hey, pal, whatcha findin’? Evil spirits released as ancient maple falls prey to September storm? Terrible troll topples timber?” Benny had come across the field with Jonathan, Shelley and a woman who looked like a long-haired version of Shelley, dressed in a long gauze skirt and a peasant blouse.
Her hoop earrings swinging with her stride, she walked up to Declan and Miranda and held out her hand. “Peace,” she said with a wide smile, brushing windblown hair from her face. “I’m Sally.”
Declan shook hands. “Peace,” he said, like a good anthropologist accepting the local custom.
Miranda gave her an appraising stare. “Whatever.”
Sally gestured toward the dome. “I wanted to invite you to come and talk with the people who own the house – they’re staying at the shrine for now, till they figure out where they’re going to live.”
Benedek was prowling around the perimeter of the house. “Be careful,” Miranda called, over the sound of the wind. “The floor is – “
“I can read, thanks,” Benedek shouted back. Creaking across the front porch, he pushed the front door open. “Anybody coming? Jonathan?”
“I’m not so foolhardy as I once was,” Jonathan said. “Besides, I want to interview the people at the shrine. It’s your life, Benedek. Watch out.”
Miranda hesitated between curiosity and common sense. Peering into the gloom of the house’s interior, she was startled by a white hazy shape that seemed to rush down the hallway in front of them. “What was that?”
“What did you see?” asked Declan.
“I…nothing. Just a trick of the light.” But after a moment she stepped toward the door.
Declan looked uncertain. “Miranda,” he said, “you goin’? Be careful.”

* * * *

At the shrine, Declan, Jonathan, Shelley and Sally sat on benches on the wide back porch overlooking the field and the path to the gazebo, just out of sight of the house. Sally’s dog, Buddy, a black lab retriever, lazed and dozed at her feet. On the third bench sat the family from the wrecked house. Sally introduced them to the professors: Jeff and Patti Kelly and their children. Patti held a little girl about three years old on her lap. The other child was ten year old Jimmy, a sturdy freckled boy with brown hair grown long over the summer, who kept petting the dog. The whole family was dressed in worn blue jeans. Ordinary people, it seemed. Yet something very surprising had happened to them.
“So what do you do, Jeff?” asked Declan.
“I work in a machine shop,” Jeff told him. “And you’re a teacher, right?”
Declan nodded. “At a college in Oregon. I also investigate miraculous phenomena. I read the story about your son’s experience, and since I was going to be in town anyway, I thought I’d see if you’d talk to me about it.”
“I don’t mind,” said Jeff. “But I was at work. Patti and the kids were the ones at home.”
Patti sighed, slumping on the bench next to Jeff. “We’ve already told that reporter everything that happened. And he made it sound sort of crazy. I’d rather not discuss it any more if you don’t mind.”
Jeff put his arm around his wife. “It’s okay, hon. It’s better to have somebody know the way it really happened.”

* * * *

Miranda stepped inside the house. The wind whistled through the broken window.
“Here’s the staircase,” Benedek gestured to the right. “Staircases are favorites with otherworldly entities. How about a motion detector here? I’ll set mine up at the far end of the hallway.”
As Miranda began to unpack the motion detector, there was a groaning sound from the second floor and a shower of plaster sifted down from the ceiling in the next room. “The wind must be rocking the tree up on the roof,” she said. They both stopped moving for a moment, but nothing more happened. “This is dangerous,” she frowned.
“All in a day’s work for the professional parapsychologist,” Benny grinned.
“You’re a professional?” she asked. “I thought you were a reporter.”
Benny shrugged. “Among other things.”
She got the detector set up and turned to look down the hall and see what Benedek was up to. And just in case the white thing showed up again...
Benedek was going down the hallway, snapping pictures of each room along the way. “Living room, dining room, kitchen,” he announced to his pocket tape recorder. “Living room window’s broken. Door frame is crooked. Kitchen’s in bad shape, not much left of it. Ceiling collapsed, stuff fell through from above. Walls are buckled. Now back to the entrance.”
“You sound more like a building inspector,” Miranda remarked. “What’s on the EMF meter?”
He turned the instrument on. “Hmm. Lotsa background.” He slapped the sensor. “Wonder when this thing was calibrated last." Tuning the settings, he chattered on. “Well, I didn’t actually graduate from Georgetown. I think Jonathan’s boss lady didn’t like my style. She was pretty uptight. But I did audit a course, sort of, at Rosebridge… until the professor recognized me. Guess I shoulda worn a baseball cap, like a student. There, this is working. But I can’t tell about the fields. It – it keeps changing.”
As he turned back toward Miranda, more plaster fell.
“Look out!” she yelled, as the whole ceiling of the hallway between them collapsed, along with a large section of inside wall below it.
Benedek turned to run, but he was not fast enough. The ceiling plaster and the broken wall fell on him, pinning him underneath and raising a cloud of dust. Miranda could not tell for sure, but it looked as if some of the dust blew toward the kitchen door at the end of the hallway. “Ouch!” Benny hollered, struggling to get out from under it. A splintered upright was across his legs, held down by the heap of debris on top of it. He could not get out.
As Miranda instinctively started down the hallway toward him to see if she could help, the house groaned ominously and they both felt the floor sway under them.
“Got a cell phone?” she asked. He shook his head. “And mine’s in the truck. I’m going for help.”
Benedek grimaced. “So much for secrecy.”

* * * * *

Patti set her little girl down on the bench next to her. The child snuggled up at her mother’s side. “I was in the kitchen cleaning up from supper,” Patti began. “It was raining hard, and there was thunder and lightning. I yelled to Jimmy, in the front room, to turn off the TV. He didn’t answer me so I went in there. The front door was open and Jimmy was gone.”
Jimmy looked up at this. “I didn’t hear you yelling at me, Mom. But I heard Chappie barking outside. That’s when I went outside to call him.”
Patti nodded. “Corrie was sleeping on the couch. I picked her up – I don’t like to leave her alone in the house – and ran outside, calling to Jimmy. I saw him down by the road at the end of the driveway, holding onto the mailbox post and calling the dog.” She looked at her husband. He met her eyes and shook his head slightly. Don’t tell him yet. Don’t break his heart, not when our home is gone and the pain is fresh. Patti went on: “But the storm was so loud, he couldn’t hear me. So I started walking down the driveway, carrying Corrie, and I was about halfway to Jimmy when the tree fell.” She shivered at the memory. “We were out of there just in time.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kelly,” Declan said softly. “I know it’s hard for you to talk about it.” He looked at Jimmy, not wanting to upset the boy by asking questions.
Jimmy spoke right up. “It’s okay,” he said. “I wrote a report about it for school. When the tree fell, I turned around and saw Mom with my little sister. I was glad they got out okay. But I never found Chap.”
Jonathan had been taking in the conversation without intruding. Now he spoke to the boy. “Perhaps he didn’t want you to find him right then,” he suggested.
Jimmy pondered this. “Maybe not,” he said slowly.

* * * *

Miranda headed to the front door, but found it jammed shut. The frame must have shifted. The kitchen door was down at the end of the hallway, now blocked with debris. She went into the living room, and began trying to open one of the windows. They were all painted shut. The broken window was the only way out. She looked around for something to finish the job of clearing the glass from the frame, and found a stick of wood from the basket by the fireplace. She knocked out as many as possible of the sharp fragments. It was much harder to break the dividing pieces that had held the four panes in place. In a few minutes she had accomplished this.
As she turned to grab a couch cushion to keep her from getting cut while climbing through, the house gave a lurch, and she fell to the floor. She got up and peeked into the hallway. It was getting dark, and there were no lights in the house, since the power wires had been disconnected for safety. “How are you doing?” she called to Benny.
“Ain’t doin’ much, I’ll tell ya,” he answered, spitting out plaster dust. “How about you?”
“I can get out now," she said, “But it’s a long way down.”

* * * * *

The twilight had deepened almost to darkness and the fireflies were playing over the field behind the shrine. Declan slapped a mosquito and Sally lit a citronella candle on the porch railing. At that moment Jimmy jumped to his feet. “I hear him!” he yelled. “It’s Chap, I know it is!”
The grownups looked puzzled. They had not heard anything. Buddy, Sally’s dog, stirred in his sleep.
“There it is again!” Jimmy insisted. Buddy got up and started barking. “Over there by our house,” Jimmy cried. “Dad, you can hear him, can’t you?”
Jeff shook his head. “With the wind blowing so hard, I don’t know how you can hear anything over there, Jimmy.” But Buddy was excited about something, and without waiting for the humans he took off running across the field. Jimmy followed. Sally grabbed flashlights from the shelf by the door, handed one to Jeff and one to Jonathan, and she and the men ran after Jimmy, who thankfully had a white t shirt on, making him easier to see than the black dog in the darkening field.
Shelley stayed on the porch with Patti and Corrie while Jonathan and Declan and Jeff pursued the boy and the dog. Patti’s eyes teared up and little Corrie said, “Don’t cry, Mommy.”
Jonathan and Declan reached the far side of the driveway where Buddy was barking at the broken window.
“Somebody’s in the window,” Sally exclaimed.
Jonathan shone his flashlight toward the window. Up there out of reach, they saw Miranda sitting on the sill trying to work up the courage to jump. “Don’t try it,” he advised. “We’ll find a ladder. Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, took a deep breath, and let it out. “Benedek’s in there. The ceiling fell on him.”
Jonathan looked concerned. “How is he?”
“He’s okay, I think, but I couldn’t get him out.”
Jeff came around the corner of the house with Jimmy and saw Miranda. “Holy smokes. I’ll get the ladder." He hurried to the garage.
Buddy woofed curiously at Miranda. “Here, Buddy,” Sally called. He came to her, with Jimmy following.
While Jonathan reassured Miranda, Declan sprinted for the truck and the cell phone, where he quickly punched 911. Then he ran back, phone in hand. To lighten the moment, he took a flash picture of Miranda sitting in the window. She looked at him reprovingly.
Seconds later they heard the siren of the rescue truck.
Jeff set the ladder up against the window sill, and held it while Miranda climbed down. She tossed her head, trying to look unruffled. Declan put his arm around her shoulders and felt her shivering. “Cold out here,” he said quietly. She did not move away.
The rescue team arrived and brought a stretcher, some 2x4’s and high powered lanterns. They went into the house through the kitchen door. Using the 2x4’s, they braced the exposed beams overhead while they moved away the debris from Benedek and carried him out on the stretcher.
“Benedek,” Jonathan called as they came out, “are you all right?”
“Whoa, Jon, you shoulda seen the readings in there!” Benny yelled.
He was still chattering as they loaded him into the ambulance and drove him away to the hospital to be checked over.
“What’s with that guy?” Miranda asked. “Nothing seems to faze him.”
Jonathan chuckled. “He’s pretty upbeat most of the time. But I think I’ll pay a visit to the emergency room and see what the damages are.”

* * * *

A few days later, Miranda came into Declan’s office to find him on the phone with Jonathan MacKensie. “Yes,” Declan was saying, “it was a privilege to have your help, Jonathan. If there’s ever anything I can do for you please let me know. Oh, I still don’t know what it was that convinced Jimmy he was hearing his dog bark. Well, that could be, that’s what I thought at first too; it must have been another dog in the neighborhood, maybe even the one from the shrine. But then Sally’s dog was asleep at first, and when he woke up he heard it too. And we didn’t, I think that’s the key fact here. Jimmy heard something, something meant only for him. The first time it saved his family and later it saved Miranda and Benedek.”
Miranda was standing by the desk by this time, and Declan reached out and squeezed her arm affectionately. She gave him a hint of a smile.
“Oh, of course I wouldn’t say anything to the press,” Declan said into the phone. “Right, I hope someone managed to stifle Benedek this time. You say he had photos of the house interior? And he gave the disposable camera to you, to develop ‘cause he’s still housebound for a week or so? Can you lose the prints, so we don’t all get in the tabloids?” He chuckled.
Miranda had a store bag in her hand.
Declan covered the phone with his hand for a moment. “Lunch?”
She shook her head and took out an envelope from the local one-hour photo shop. “What else you got in there?” he asked.
“Just something I picked up for a friend.” She showed him a Cleveland Indians baseball cap, then dropped it back into the bag.
“Your friend’s a Cleveland fan?” Declan motioned to her to show him the pictures, and she spread them out on the desk.
“Holy Moley,” Declan said softly as he looked at each one in turn. “Jonathan, I don’t know what you’re gonna think of this – but I’ll send you the extra prints of these. Yeah, I want to see his pictures too.”
In the snapshot of Miranda in the window, Declan had inadvertently included the whole group of people in the yard: Jonathan, Jeff, Sally, Jimmy and the dog, Buddy. Something small and white and vaguely dog-shaped was sitting in front of the window, its head uplifted as if gazing at Miranda. And Buddy was looking straight at the white figure, interested but not poised for a challenge. As if it were a friend he knew.

-the end-