The Homecoming

The last time I saw Ann Marie Johnson, she disappeared in a blinding swirl of December snow and the crackling of ice.
From the first time we met, which was at the age of five, we were inseparable. She was my first love. It wasn’t one of those infatuations that kids develop what you would call “puppy love”. It was more than that. Sure, some people might say that this sounds like a load of bull because we were so young and therefore unable to make such a strong emotional bond; but the feelings were there.
My mother and father were originally from Parkville, Indiana but moved to Albion, Michigan after they were married. My Dad lost his job and they both decided to move the family back to Indiana; in hopes of finding another one. It was summer then and I would be starting school in a couple of months. I was nervous about making new friends and spent much of the time moping around, feeling homesick. I didn’t actually meet Ann Marie until a few weeks before school started because her family was on vacation. She had noticed me sitting on the porch with my head in my hands and came over to talk to me.
“What are you doing there? Nobody’s lived there for a long time,” she said.
I jumped because I’d been staring at my shoes and hadn’t noticed her walking up to me. “We just moved here,” I said once I recovered from the start.
“My name’s Anne Marie. I live right next door.”
“My name’s John.”
“So, where did you move from?”
“Michigan. My dad lost his job and we had to move.”
“I’ve never been to Michigan. Do you miss it?”
“Yeah, I miss all my friends. There aren’t that many kinds around here to play with.”
“Well, I’ll be your friend,” she said.
Just then, her mom came out to call her for dinner. She stopped walking when she was almost to her porch and turned around. “Nice to meet you, John,” she said and walked into the house.
The next five years were wonderful. We explored the woods that grew close by, swam in the pond out behind our houses, and had our first kiss in my tree house. In the winter we would go sledding or ice- skating. She was a talented skater but never made me feel bad about my fumbling attempts to stay on my feet. When one of us had chores, we would leave notes on the sidewalk with chalk to let each other know where we’d be.
I’m at the park.
Meet me at the pond.
I’m in the tree house.
All of that ended a few days before Christmas; when we were ten. It had been warm the past week and a half and our parents told us to stay away from the pond because the ice might not be strong enough to hold out weight. If only we’d listened. I had to clean my room and help my mom with the laundry that day and by the time I got outside, Ann Marie was gone. There was a stick stuck into the snow and a message was scrawled beside it telling me to meet her at the pond, so I hurried down there as fast as I could. It was snowing a little when I came out but by the time I got to the pond, it was really coming down. I saw her red coat through the large flakes when I was a few yards away. I slowed down a little so I could enjoy watching her glide around on the ice. She had just completed a turn when she saw me and waved.
“Hey, slow poke! What took you so long?”
I told her. “Did your mom and dad say it was okay to be on the ice?”
“They don’t know I’m here. Besides, it’s snowing. The ice should be thick enou-“

She never got to finish the rest of the word. At that moment there was a loud crack and she was gone. She didn’t even have a chance to scream. I just stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened, then ran screaming back to the house. My dad and Mr. Johnson were in the garage working on my dad’s snow blower and came out when they heard my screams.
My dad took me by the shoulders and said, “John! John, what’s wrong?”
I told them between sobs and they ran back into the garage and came out with some rope and a canoe my dad had bought the summer before.
“Go tell your mom! Have her call 911” dad yelled and they dragged the canoe to the pond at a dead run but by the time they got there, it was too late. They dragged Ann Marie’s blue and dripping corpse out of the pond two hours later.
The Johnsons never blamed me for what but I still carried the guilt around inside me. I just felt like there was something I could have done-even when there wasn’t. They buried their daughter three days later and moved away a few months after that. We never heard from them again. I guess that they couldn’t bear to live in that house anymore.

The years passed and I tried to forget what happened, with varying degrees of success. I fell in and out of love several times but nothing ever came close to touching what Ann Marie and I had shared. I got married four years after I graduated from high school and moved away. Joan and I had our boy, John Evens III, four years after that. Mom and dad died in a car accident when John was five and I was laid off from my job when the company I was working for decided that it could make more money by having people over seas do it. Dad had had the foresight to draw up a will and left me the house. Since job prospects were bad, we decided to move back to Parkville and take possession of the house. I felt bad for John, having to leave his friends behind at that age. I knew just how he was feeling, having been through the same thing myself.
I was surprised to see how much Parkville had changed over the years. The stores were all different. The woods were gone. There seemed to be more people than before. The old house seemed the same, though. The pond was still there, too. I got a shiver up and down my spine the first time I saw it but didn’t understand why at the time. Nor did I understand why I refused to let John play around it.
We settled into our new lives okay. Joan got a nursing job at Parkville Memorial Hospital and I got a supervising job at a factory. It was at the same place my dad had retired from six years before. We made friends with a few of the neighbors and enjoyed a lot of barbecues and parties. John soon got over his loneliness and made new friends. He seemed to be adjusting to the move pretty well. Things were good until one day, five years later, when John told me about his new girl friend.
“Where’s she live?”
“She lives next door.”
“What’s she like?”
“She’s really nice. She’s my age, a little taller than me, and has long brown hair and brown eyes. She’s really pretty.”
“Sounds really serious,” I teased.
“Oh it is,” he said and the seriousness in which he said it made me laugh.
“So, What’s her name, big guy,” I asked.
“Her name is Marie.”
For some reason the name gave me a jolt. I tried me best not to show it.
John started spending more and more time away from home after that and I never thought to question why we never got to meet his new girlfriend. Joan and I kept meaning to go next door to meet her family but something kept coming up.

I was down the street one day helping my neighbor, Ron; winterize his house one day, when he said, “So, how’s John getting along? Dianne and I haven’t seen him around here lately and Jim’s been wondering why he hasn’t been over.” Jim was their ten-year old.
“He said that he has a girl friend,” I said with a laugh, “When’s the last time he was here?”
“Oh, it’s been a couple of weeks. What’s the girl’s name?”
“He said her name was Marie.”
“Hmmm….I don’t know any kids around here named Marie. Where does she live?”
I told him and he gave me a funny look.
“There’s nobody living there, buddy; hasn’t been for years. People just don’t like the place for some reason. You must have gotten it wrong.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. The people that lived there before you lost their boy in an accident in the pond behind your house. He drowned. They moved away right after that. That was about six years ago. It’s been empty ever since.”
Joan and Dianne came out with sandwiches and hot coffee a minute later and the conversation was forgotten.
That was two months ago. John’s gotten more secretive about his new girl friend. Nothing we’ve done to try and draw him out has worked. I started seeing messages written in chalk on the sidewalk, and later in the snow. It made me nervous but I didn’t understand why-until today.
It’s her. Anne Marie. She’s back and she wants my son. I went out side to shovel the walk a minute ago and saw a message scrawled into the snow that made me blood run cold.
Meet me at the pond. We can go skating.
I’m running as fast as I can now. The ground is slippery and treacherous and I’m cursing myself for getting so out of shape. The snow is coming down heavier, too. I can just make out John’s foot prints. God, I hope I’m not too late.

I enjoyed this, great flow to the story. Thank you for sharing!