CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Gus was seated on an old log on Devil's Island, whispering to himself. Noah and Julia had gone out to check on him but didn't want to frighten him. Usually, when they approached one of the ghosts, they knew it immediately, sensing the living humans before they were even near them. Gus seemed oblivious.

"What's he doing?" whispered Julia.

"I am not sure. He is speaking to himself. Or someone we cannot see," frowned Noah. "He feels different, does he not? I mean, his spirit feels different than others we have encountered."

"I agree," said Julia, shaking her head. "The other spirits we always knew were near us, and they knew that we were near them before we even approached. I feel Gus, but not like the others. Do you think this has to do with his dementia?"

"It could be," shrugged Noah.

They watched for a few moments longer, then noticed Gus kneeling beside the log. His head was bowed, his hands clasped in front of him.

"He is praying," said Noah.

Suddenly, Gus stood, turning to stare at them. He walked forcefully toward them, and Noah pushed Julia behind him.

"Why are you here?" he yelled.

"We were worried about you, Gus. We came to see if you were alright," said Noah. The man frowned at him, then shook his head.

"No. No, you shouldn't be here. Confession is personal. Private. You shouldn't be here."

"I see," said Julia. "I'm terribly sorry. We just wanted to be sure you were okay." She smiled at the ghost, and he stared at the two in front of him, then shook his head, rubbing his temples.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," he said quietly.

"It's alright, Gus. We all get confused sometimes," smiled Julia. "Were you hearing confession for someone?"

"No. N-no, I don't think so." He turned and looked back at the log, then toward Noah and Julia. "I've heard many confessions in my time. Many. They weigh so heavily on a man's heart and soul. Some were sweet. Children who'd eaten more candy than they should or looked at a classmate's paper. A sweet young boy who stole a kiss and worried he'd go to hell."

"Those are very sweet," said Noah. "Do you remember others?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "Others were horrible. I tried to never look at their faces. I didn't want to see them. Their voices would often make me cringe, and I would remember those. I knew those voices."

"Gus? Did you know that the owners of the O'Noth Circus were not actually O'Noths?" asked Noah.

"They were," he nodded. "I knew them. It was Sean and Patrick O'Noth."

Julia smiled at him, nodding as she gripped Noah's hand. She didn't want him to push Gus too far.

"You know, when I was little, I dreamed of running away to the circus," she fibbed. "I thought it would be so exciting. I used to think about if my father had been a circus performer instead of a Navy SEAL, then maybe I would have become a trapeze artist or something wonderful."

"I don't think your father could have been anything but a Navy SEAL," smiled Gus.

"Did Sean or Patrick have children?" asked Julia.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his jaw. "Yes, I believe they did." He paused and glanced back at the log, staring for a long moment. Then he turned to Julia and Noah.

"Are you alright, Gus?" asked Noah.

"I think so. I feel as though I need to be somewhere, but I don't remember where. Am I supposed to be here?"

"We are trying to figure that out, Gus. We do not believe you died here on our property. We think you may have died in Arizona. But that does not explain how you are here. It is all very new to us," said Noah.

"I can imagine," he smirked. "It feels very new to me as well, but also as if I've been doing this for a long time. I think I've tried to get others to see me, but they couldn't. I didn't know that I was dead, so I thought they were just ignoring me. How are you seeing me?"

"It's one of many things we're unsure of," said Julia. "Noah and I have always been able to see and speak with the dead. It can be incredibly overwhelming or incredibly beautiful. I think we both thought we were crazy at one time."

"Did I hurt someone?" he asked with a pained expression.

"Honestly, Gus? We are not sure," said Noah. "We are looking into everything now. What we do know is that you were killed by someone or something. The rest of it we are trying to figure out."

"I never hurt anyone," he said, shaking his head. "Even not remembering things, I know that in my heart. In my soul. I wouldn't have done that."

"Did you remember being a priest?" asked Julia.

"I did. I-I don't always remember that. Then, suddenly, like a wave of emotion and commotion," he chuckled, "I hear the confessions. I see the faces in the congregation. I hear the music, and it all comes flooding back."

"Were you always a priest?" nudged Noah.

"Always? I. I don't think so. I'm a truck driver. Why would I be a priest and a truck driver?" he asked. He looked around the island again, then toward the log. "I have to go."

"Gus, wait!"

But he was gone. Just like that, he'd disappeared again, and they couldn't feel his presence at all.

"He remembered something," said Julia. "Am I crazy, or does it feel as though his dementia is getting worse?"

"I do not think you are crazy, sweet Julia. If you are, then I am as well," said Noah. "Perhaps because he is stuck here, his disease is progressing as it would when he was alive."

"We have to help him, Noah. I know there is only so much you and I can do, but we have to get the others to help him."