The Charm of Lost Chances

by Lucia N Davis

  “Hello, Mother,” Arthur said. “I’ve brought you some guests. The two girls from Dunnhill you were so interested in.”

  The woman opened her eyes. Despite her physical decline, her blue-grey eyes observed them with a piercing, intelligent look. Sara had the distinct impression she had seen those eyes before.

  Distracted, she accepted the chair Kathy had brought for her. “Hello, Mrs. Monasset,” she said, sitting down. “I’m Sara Eriksson, and this is Taylor Russell. We understand you wanted to meet us?”

  The woman stared at her for a while with those familiar eyes. Finally, as Sara grew more and more uncomfortable, she spoke. Her voice was weak and soft, scarcely audible.

  “Which one of you is related to Benny Stevens?”

  “I am, Mrs. Monasset,” Taylor answered, shifting awkwardly. “Ben Stevens was my grandmother’s brother.”

  The woman nodded slowly. “Thought so. Your forehead, your mouth—it reminds me of him.” Closing her eyes, she added, “He was very handsome.”

  Taylor and Sara looked at each other, perplexed. Whatever they had expected, it certainly wasn’t this.

  “You knew Ben Stevens?” Taylor asked incredulously.

  “Mmmm,” Mrs. Monasset replied.

  Sara glanced at Arthur. Judging from his frown, this was news to him as well.

  “How—how did you know him?” Sara asked, finding herself caught in the gaze of those penetrating eyes again.

  Mrs. Monasset wrinkled her nose. “I lived there for a while. In Dunnhill.” Her voice was laced with contempt as she spat out the last two words.

  Sara inhaled sharply. That tone of voice, the eyes— she knew who Mrs. Monasset reminded her of. She clutched her purse, unwilling to believe what her brain was telling her. How was it possible? “Charlene…?” she whispered.

  Mrs. Monasset let out a breathless chuckle. “Yes… Do we know each other?”

  “No, we don’t,” Sara said, still not quite believing it. “But how—how can you be Arthur’s mother? Charlene would be around eighty-five years old, and he told me he’s seventy-four.”

  “Stepmother,” Charlene Monasset said with exasperation. “And not a very good one at that. Arthur’s father liked his women young. I was twenty-two when we married. I had no idea what to do with an eleven-year-old boy.”

  Arthur patted her hand. “You were all right.”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Charlene said simply. “We both know that.”

  “Tell me,” Charlene said, still looking at Sara, “how is it you seem to know so much about me?”

  “I recognized you. I’ve seen you before—when you were young. You and your sister. And Benny. He gave her a bird.” Sara said softly.

  Mrs. Monasset face seemed to pale even further, if that was possible. “Fascinating,” she said mockingly. “Considering you were not born yet. How do you explain that?”

  Sara felt Taylor’s hand on her arm, encouraging her. “I see things,” she said defiantly. “I can see things from the past. Things that are… unfinished in some way.”

  “Ridiculous.” Arthur scoffed.

  “Perhaps.” Charlene narrowed her eyes. “How do you know it was a bird?”

  “Because I saw him carve it from a piece of wood.” Sara stared back her, unwavering.

  Charlene snorted. “A chickadee, it was. A chickadee. An insignificant, powerless little bird. I wonder if that was a coincidence.”

  “She loved it. Your sister.”

  “Yes, she did.” Charlene closed her eyes again. “So, what business is unfinished, then? Why are you seeing my little sister, who has presumably been dead for decades?”

  “I don’t know,” Sara said softly. “I wish I knew, so they would leave me alone. To figure out what happened, I hunted down the newspaper articles from back then. I learned how your sister disappeared, and that Benny was convicted.”

  “How many times have you seen my sister?”

  “Twice. The first time you and your sister were walking to the waterfall, because she wanted to see it. She held a doll. You were walking hand in hand, singing.”

  Charlene still had her eyes closed. She nodded softly. “Yes,” she whispered, “I remember.”

  “The second time,” Sara continued, “she was in the yard with Benny, and he made her that bird. You joined them. You were mean to him. But then you tried to, umm… well, it looked like you were trying to seduce him. Then your mother stormed out and basically told him to get lost. Then your mother yelled at you for a bit.”

  Charlene grimaced. “My mother did a lot of yelling, mostly at me. Never at Josephine. I was such a disappointment.” She let out a wheezing cackle. “You are correct; I did try to get Ben to do something impertinent. I was hoping that if my mother saw it, she would move us away from that dump. But he didn’t bite. The fool.”

  A long silence ensued. Sara hesitantly opened her purse. “Here.” She took out the small gold bracelet that, at the last minute, she had decided to bring with her this morning. “This bracelet. I found it in the river near Dunnhill. It has ‘My sweet Jo’ engraved on the charm. I wondered if it belonged to your sister.”

  Charlene opened her eyes. They were moist. She extended a skeletal hand, took the bracelet, and dangled it in front of her face. “Yes… this was Josephine’s. My father gave it to her.” A tear rolled down her cheek. Holding the bracelet, she rested her hand back on the covers. Her voice trembled. “It’s a tricky thing, the past. It’s like a shadow. You can try to outrun it, but it will always follow. And one day, while you’re busy looking over your shoulder and not paying attention to what’s ahead of you, you run straight into its open arms.”

  Charlene stopped talking. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. To Sara, the whistling of the oxygen tank suddenly sounded loud and intruding. Having said all there was to say, she wasn’t quite sure what to do next. As the silence dragged on, she wondered if Charlene had fallen asleep. She shifted in her seat, looking over at Taylor.

  Turning back to Charlene, she found the pair of blue-grey eyes staring at her once again.

  “What have you seen of Ben Stevens?” the old woman asked.

  Sara hesitated. “Uh, well, not that much. I know he had no front teeth, and that he was very capable with an axe, and, ummm… he still seems very angry.”

  Charlene snorted again. “He ought to be.”

  “Excuse me?” Sara shook her head.

  Charlene sighed. “I’m going to tell you a story.” Her fingers rubbed the white sheet as she contemplated how to begin. “A long time ago, there was a young, foolish girl. She was fourteen, and had big ideas about romance, and where she belonged in society. A young man—from a good family, but older than her, mind you—entered the stage, making all sorts of promises. In her naiveté, she believed him. In good faith, but far too readily, she gave up the one thing her mother had always warned her to guard carefully, which resulted in the usual outcome: a baby. The young man left the stage as quickly as he’d entered it. Back in those days, an unwed mother was still a scandal, you see, so the girl’s parents moved to a small village, and pretended the baby was theirs. In the village, the girl never had a daughter—only a little sister. They imagined they would move back to the city in due time, since people forget about affairs, and no one actually knew the girl had been pregnant.”

  Sara, Taylor, and Arthur listened quietly. When Charlene stopped talking, Sara dared to interject a question. “So Josephine was your daughter?”

  Charlene did not respond. Instead, she continued her story. “The girl, however, was angry. She was stuck in a small village, whisked away from the dynamic city. Her future had been stolen from her. Instead, having made but a single mistake, she was forced to have her face rubbed in it every single day. A squealing, attention-craving mistake that grew up to be everyone’s favorite—everyone’s darling. She resented the little girl… but she learned to tolerate her. Or so she thought.

  “One day, the little girl wanted to see the nearby waterf
all. So, in moment of weakness, the young woman took the little girl along. The falls were high with the spring melt, practically spouting over the ridge. It was a sight to see, even the girl had to admit. She warned the little one to stay away from the water and ventured to the edge of the cliff to watch the waterfall take its tumble. Looking down, she was distracted by Ben Stevens, who was cutting wood near his cabin. He always struck an imposing figure with that axe...” Charlene paused. Shaking her head, as if trying to rid her head of the image, she continued, talking fast now. “The little girl, she never listened very well. She had crept up to the river and was watching the water speed by. She was showing her doll the water when she somehow lost her grip, and the stupid toy fell in. Now, the older girl—she should’ve been paying attention, but she wasn’t. So only when the little girl let out a scream did she turn around. She saw the little girl reaching for the doll as it was snatched away by the water, reaching and reach… until she fell over too. Into the rushing water. And then… she was gone. Just like that. Gone.”

  Sara heard Arthur exhale. “What happened?” he asked. “What happened to her?”

  Charlene shrugged. “She fell down the waterfall.” She was staring into space now, as if recalling the events. “The older girl screamed, of course, screamed her name: Josephine! Josephine! Ben heard her from the cliff. She ran down the trail as fast as she could and told him what happened. He jumped into the pool under the falls, untroubled by the cold water, and the current, which must have been very strong. He searched and searched for Josephine, for half an hour, or an hour, maybe. At some point, after what seemed an eternity, the older girl realized it was taking too long, that hope was fading, and so she told Ben she would run to the village to get help.

  “Along the way, she had time to think. No one knew the truth about Josephine not being her sister, and now, no one had to know. Her daughter, whose existence had brought such turbulence and change to the older girl’s life, was gone. She was free. Free to live her life the way she had envisioned it. Only as she thought about it, she realized her parents would never believe she was innocent, that it had been an accident. Telling the truth was impossible. It immediately became crystal clear: What she needed was a scapegoat. And there was a perfect one back at the scene of the accident. He couldn’t speak, or at least not well, and if he did manage to get the real story out, who would have the patience to listen to him? And even then, it would be his word against hers. So the girl ran off to her mother and told her story.”

  Charlene stopped talking, again plucking her sheet with her frail fingers. The silence in the room was heavy with quiet condemnation and horror. This time, the old woman did not look Sara or anyone else in the eyes.

  “It was so easy,” Charlene whispered. “Like the villagers wanted to believe Ben did it. He was arrested immediately. Some of the villagers even went up to Ben’s house and painted the word ‘murderer’ on the fireplace, in case he got out. Of course, the doll he had fished out of the pool didn’t help him. It basically ensured his conviction. He couldn’t write, wouldn’t speak, and his defense lawyer was awful. He didn’t have a chance.”

  “How could you?” Taylor’s tone was harsh. “How—how could you? He was trying to save her. He was trying to help, and you threw him under the bus. Why?”

  Charlene shrugged. “Because I didn’t think the truth would serve me. My parents adored Josephine. They never would’ve believed me. Even if they had, they never would’ve forgiven me. Blaming Ben was much easier for everyone involved.”

  “Blaming Ben was easier on you. It certainly wasn’t easier on Ben,” Sara said quietly.

  Charlene sighed. “True. You said he seemed angry. Well, I’m sure he is. I know I would be.”

  Arthur, unable to speak, shook his head in disbelief.

  Sara pressed on. “So you just left the village? Just like that? Your daughter drowned, Ben went to prison, and you went on and lived your life?’

  “That about sums it up. Ben didn’t last long in prison. He hanged himself a few months after the trial. After that, I couldn’t really go back on my story. Not that I intended to—at least, not at that time. I figured he hadn’t been particularly useful to anyone. Of course, what I failed to recognize was that I hadn’t been either. Over the years, my perspective changed. But what was done was done.”

  “He hanged himself…” Sara repeated softly. Finally, the person in her dream had a face. Poor Ben…

  “From the moment Josephine arrived,” Charlene continued, “all I could feel was hatred. I was so blind. I didn’t even realize over the years that something changed—I changed. She made me. And when she left us, it surprised me how much I missed her. How much I longed to feel her little hand in mine again. Hear her voice again. See her smile again. She was such a big part of me, and that part died with her. I didn’t deserve her—or rather, she deserved better. So did Ben. If I could do it over again, I’d do it differently. Life doesn’t always offer second chances. But maybe now I can die in peace.”

  Charlene closed her eyes again. After a while it became clear she was not willing to talk anymore. Kathy came back in and started preparing some medications. The soft grey-haired cat, which must have snuck in with the nurse, jumped onto the pillow next to Charlene’s head and gave the group an indignant look, as if willing them away. Arthur slowly got up and gestured for Sara and Taylor to follow him.

  Back in the hall, he turned around. “I am terribly, terribly sorry. I had no idea. I knew she had her faults, believe me, but I never imagined her capable of such… Machiavellian deeds. Please accept my sincerest apologies,” he said, looking directly at Taylor, “for the harm she caused your family.”

  “Thank you,” Taylor said. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to leave. I think we could all use some time to come to terms with this. I hope you understand.”

  “Absolutely.” Arthur nodded. “Please do not hesitate to contact me, for anything.” He walked them downstairs and saw them out himself.

  As the girls walked to the car, Taylor raised her voice for the first time. “Can you believe that? She didn’t even apologize. She just wants to die in peace! This whole confession—it was all out of selfishness!” She slammed the door of the Jeep as she got in. “I hope she suffocates on that damn cat!”

  The next few weeks passed at an agonizingly slow pace. Unable to shake the visit with Charlene, Sara kept mulling over it, trying to decide what to do. Taylor was still angry about the whole ordeal and offered little advice. To Sara’s relief, one good thing came out of it: her dreams ended. She slept peacefully, without interruption, which allowed her to once again approach her life with a sunny disposition. She gleefully cancelled her doctor’s appointment. Soon she would be able to start working as a substitute teacher and get her life back on track.

  More often than she wanted to admit, she missed David. He hadn’t called, though Sara was sure Taylor must have filled him in on their visit with Charlene. Sara didn’t blame him, though. Sometimes she thought about calling him and apologizing, but she always decided against it. Maybe it was best for both of them to move on.

  As October dragged on, autumn declared itself forcefully with trees clad in the brightest shades of red, orange, and yellow, and the smell of wet leaves permeating the air. Early one morning, her phone beeped with a text from Taylor.

  Are you free tomorrow? it said.

  Yes. Why? she replied.

  New developments. Can I pick you up at nine am?

  Sara frowned. For what?

  It took a while for Taylor to answer. We’re going to Dunnhill.

  Hesitantly, Sara responded, Not sure that’s a good idea.

  It will be. Trust me. It’s closure, came the response from Taylor.

  What closure? Sara sighed, but texted back to say yes. Best to get it over with.

  The rest of the day she was slightly on edge. The thought of possibly seeing David again made her nervous. What would he say? What if he was angry? The clock ticked far too
slowly, and yet far too fast.

  The next morning, Taylor’s Jeep pulled up at nine sharp. Sara had been ready for the last hour, and quickly hopped in. Taylor looked at her approvingly.

  “You look much better. Are you sleeping again?”

  “Yes. It’s wonderful! It’s like I have my mind back.”

  “And your fashion sense, it seems.” Taylor snorted.

  Sara thought it best not to reply. She had dressed with care that morning, wearing skinny jeans, a blue cowl-neck angora sweater and her brown leather boots, finishing it off with a puffy jacket. If she was going to face David, she wanted to feel confident.

  “Can you drive a little more carefully this time?” she asked Taylor coolly. “Maybe pretend we’re not in Italy?”

  Taylor giggled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Despite Sara’s request, they arrived in Dunnhill in record time. The first half of the drive was not so bad, Sara had to admit, since traffic quieted down quickly. As they drove, Taylor explained that Arthur Monasset had called her and requested they meet him in Dunnhill. Although, she added, a little offended, it felt more like being summoned. She had considered refusing, but curiosity had won out.

  As soon as they reached the mountains, Taylor seemed to forget about her pledge of caution. During the remainder of the harrowing ride, Sara kept her eyes closed most of the time. In between shrieks, she ensured Taylor that if they had an accident and Taylor was fortunate enough to survive, Sara would return to haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. Taylor just smiled, obviously enjoying navigating the curvy roads.

  When they finally parked in front of the little wooden church, Sara quickly made her escape from the car, rubbing her hands and arms, which were cramped from gripping the roof handle. Vowing never to enter the Jeep again unless she could have the driver’s seat, she took in the view, only now noticing what a beautiful autumn day it was. The sun peeked out of the clouds, illuminating the white church and the brightly colored trees around it, intensifying the yellow leaves to pure gold. Sara deeply inhaled the crisp air. Nothing quite compared to this place, she thought. Every season here seemed to possess its own unique beauty.