A new idea surged in me and I said it aloud without thinking it over. “Maybe they wanted to spend time together—alone.”
“There is a thought.” Zaira contemplated it for a brief while. “No, no. They don’t seem to like each other that way—at least not on Mrs. White’s part.”
“I think you are right. I guess there is no easy explanation. At any rate, you might get some answers when they return. See what supplies they bring back. I hope it makes sense then.”
“Yes, hopefully. I’ll stay around the kitchen until they show up. Well, I had better get back to my chores. Mrs. White swamped me with work today. I feel much better though—curiosity was eating at me, I had to let it out.” She smiled sweetly.
Was I supposed to thank her for the information? She had relieved her curiosity, and it would eat at me now. I did anyway. “Thanks, Zaira. Don’t worry too much. It might be nothing.”
“Oh, I won’t.” On her way out of the office Zaira said, “Don’t leave today without saying goodbye.”
“I won’t.”
My working day was almost gone, and I felt the strain of the long day, coupled with all the unexpected events. I returned to my chair and glanced over the file in front of me. It was large and complicated. I wasn’t inclined to tackle it. Zaira’s tale pressed on my mind mercilessly. So much for my own advice to her—not to worry about it.
My head sunk deep into my hands. The lethargy of sleep smoothly crept around me. I forced myself to fight the urge to rest. I needed to finish my day and then my Christmas vacation would start. The thought occurred that I should check on Mr. Sterling.
I knew darn well that I shouldn’t head down this hall. I was out of my allowed areas at Oak’s Place. Yet my disobedience, propelled by Mrs. White’s current absence, was irresistible.
Mrs. White had not actually said that I shouldn’t be in this part of the house. She had only indicated which parts I could visit. For some unknown reason, I needed to do this. I rationalized that I was not trespassing. My heavy breathing said otherwise—I pressed a hand to my mouth to muffle it. Then there were my footsteps. The sound of my heels beating against the stone floor traveled the length of the corridor before echoing back at me. Like the pulse of a menacing grandfather’s clock, my steps reminded me that this was wrong, and they would give me away.
The tearing desire to turn back seized upon me, but it was too late. I heard his moans of suffering from the other side of the door that now stood in-between us.
Just out of routine, I softly knocked. He was too sick to hear me or to care about visitors—that much I knew. I knocked again. I waited until a sufficient amount of time had elapsed, then let myself in his room.
It was dark. Lights were out and all curtains drawn together. As my vision adjusted, I saw a small sliver of light penetrating through the joint of the curtains. The light was enough to distinguish the outlines of the things that inhabited the vast room.
I had taken a few steps when he moaned again, and I froze. I couldn’t believe my temerity. The desire to retreat took hold of me once again. I started to turn back when his voice, broken but clear called out. “Who is there?”
I was too afraid to answer.
“Florence is that you?” I was petrified. How in the world did he know it was me? Could he see me? I couldn’t see him. “Answer me,” he encouraged.
“Mr. Sterling, I must apologize. I heard you and—I just wanted to help.”
“Come closer so I can see you.” He could not see me after all.
Slowly, still with my heart in my throat, I drew near the bed. I could see him now; his face white as a ghost. He stretched out his hand to me and I took it. The coldness from his hand slowly filled my arm and then it found the rest of my body. “Mr. Sterling, you are cold. Can I fetch you a blanket?” I asked in sincere alarm.
He ignored my question. “Why did you take so long to come?”
“I…” What was I to say? I didn’t know I had to come in the first place. “Mr. Sterling, please tell me how I can help you.”
“You took so long,” he insisted, and it was evident then that he was delirious.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling. I’m here now.”
“Florence, I waited for so long…so long.”
I liberated my hand from his and pulled his covers to his shoulders. He pushed them back down, pressing his arms on top of them so I couldn’t do it again. “Mr. Sterling, please, you are freezing cold. Let me help you.”
In the half-light of the room, I saw a smile cross his face. “You care.”
“Of course, I do. Do you want me to call the doctor?”
“No, why the doctor? I have never felt better in my life—you are here.” He reached for my hand again.
He was not coherent. Who was this man so sick, lonely, and helpless? Why did Mrs. White leave him under these circumstances? How could she?
Mr. Sterling uttered a painful sound, and my whole heart went out to him in compassion. I wanted to help him. I had to help him. Yes, I was now convinced that the reason why I was here at Oak’s Place was to help Mr. Sterling from whatever it was that was not only haunting him but also killing him.
“Mr. Sterling, I will go find help.”
His entire body trembled and his grip grew determined around my wrist. “NO! You can’t leave me. I will die if you do. You must stay—Florence, please.”
I felt the desperation in his pleading and I couldn’t refuse him. “Hush now and try to rest. I will stay.” Warm tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Promise me that you won’t leave.”
“I promise.” I leaned over until my face rested on his chest. His arms wrapped around me. “As long as your heart beats, I will stay.”
“Florence! Florence, wake up!” Zaira’s voice sounded distant. “What has gotten into you?” Someone was shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes to find Zaira hovering over me. She straightened up and took a step back.
“Zaira, what are you doing?”
“Waking you.” She looked at me in consternation. “Have you been crying?”
“No, why?” I replied instinctively, but all at once, the feelings that had accompanied me during my dream came rushing back. I touched my eyes and felt the dampness there. Yes, I had been crying, and not only in my dream. The pain I had experienced was so real that it manifested in the waking world.
Zaira stared at me. “Florence, you are trembling,” she observed. “Did you have a dream?”
“No. I had a nightmare.” I ran the back of my hand across my forehead and it came away wet with perspiration.
“Florence, you better go home. I think you are getting sick.”
She was right, I felt nauseated and totally disoriented. “I can’t believe I fell asleep like that.”
“You look exhausted. It’s been a long day.” Zaira continued to stare at me—did I look that terrible? “Let me help you gather your things,” she tactfully offered, already clearing my desk.
“Thank you.” I watched her, not making the effort to move. Something of my own strength had ebbed away, leaving me powerless.
Zaira helped me into my coat and accompanied me to the circular drive in front of the house. “I’m not sure I should let you drive yourself,” Zaira said, once I got into my car.
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” I turned the car key and the engine came to life. “Did Mrs. White come back?”
“She sure did.”
“It didn’t take her long.”
“No.”
Fearing that she didn’t want to upset me with more news, I asked, “What did she buy?”
“Oh, Florence, why do you have to ask?”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
“Nothing, she came back with nothing. At least she didn’t bring anything into the kitchen.”
“Hmm, that’s not right.”
“No. Maybe she bought something for the gardens and left it on the grounds, or maybe they got something for Mr. Vines.”
&nb
sp; “Who knows.” My head was spinning.
“Forget about that. Be safe.”
“Have a merry Christmas,” I wished Zaira.
“A happy Christmas to you! That’s how we say it in England.”
“Thank you. I’ll try.” Unable to contain my words, I added, “Wish Mr. Sterling a happy Christmas for me, would you?”
“I will, whenever I can. He is not recovering very well this time.”
“That’s really sad. I wish I could’ve seen him.”
“It’s better that you didn’t. You aren’t used to seeing him sick—it would frighten you. His eyes stare at you lifelessly. It’s a terrible thing to behold.”
“I can imagine.”
Her words brought me a new level of concern. I had just seen Mr. Sterling exactly as she had described him, in my dream. “Just tell him happy Christmas for me.” I drove away with a heavy heart.
“Florence, where have you been? I haven’t seen you for weeks,” Jim exclaimed. He dismounted his bike and leaned it against the monastery wall. A bag with newspapers was slung over his shoulder, and his freckled face was red from the fierce cold. He looked skinnier than the last time I had seen him, and his frizzy brown hair was in desperate need of a trim.
“I’ve been working, thanks to your help.” I smiled. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“I’ve got some great news.” He smiled back.
“Well, tell me. I can use some good news.”
“My route has been reduced to three days a week.”
“How can that be good?”
“The remaining days, I’ve been promoted to work in the printing press. I’ll make some real money.” He rubbed his hands together to warm them.
“That’s wonderful—congratulations! Now, come inside and have some hot cocoa.”
We entered the warm monastery and made our way to the kitchen. As I busied myself finding mugs and checking the contents of the kettle, Jim plopped down into a chair with a grin. “So, Florence, give me the scoop—is the house really haunted?”
“Nonsense.”
“Come on, Florence—you gotta tell me.”
“All right—all right. But you have to promise not to tell Granny a word about it.” I poured two cups of cocoa. Handing him one, I sat across the table.
“You got it.” He leaned forward with eager attention.
“They are a little unusual,” I started, deciding how much to disclose, but I went on to tell him the whole story. Jim was a good listener, occasionally nodding as his eyes grew wider. Sharing the mysterious occurrences at Oak’s Place with him was assuaging to my heart.
“Criminy, that’s very spooky,” Jim observed when I was done.
“Hush, James, Granny will hear you.”
“Sorry, Florence.” Jim bit his lip. “And don’t call me James—you know I don’t like it.”
“Sorry, Jim. The thing is, I shouldn’t get involved in any of it. I should just do my job and collect the money.”
“But you can’t help it, can you?”
“Well, it’s a little challenging when I think they are hiding something, maybe about me. I don’t know—the whole situation is unsettling.”
“But you don’t know for sure what the situation is—it’s just your own assumption.”
“That’s right, and that’s the worst. I wish I would know…”
“Maybe he’s a ghost.” Jim put on a mysterious face. I frowned. “It would explain people calling him the Shadow, wouldn’t it? Maybe, all of them are ghosts, and that’s why you disturb them.”
“Mr. Sterling is definitely not a ghost.” I feigned exasperation.
“Is he as old and crippled as people say?”
“No, by far he isn’t old or crippled,” I affirmed, not realizing the deep emphasis in my voice until Jim raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, so he is young and handsome then, huh?” Was there jealousy in his tone?
“I didn’t say that,” I answered more defensively than I had intended.
“Well then, tell me.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Why won’t you tell me what you think about him? I already know he is rich. Tell me how he compares otherwise—to me.”
“Please, Jim, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not playing any games with you. I’ll throw you out if you persist with your silly questioning.” Jim has been a pal since the fourth grade when his family moved into town. He was loyal and supportive, but I had never viewed him in a romantic light. I couldn’t tell Jim that unlike him, Mr. Sterling was very mature and refined. It would be unkind and unfair. After all, one couldn’t help being who one was.
“All right, no need to get upset. But you have to keep me informed, yeah? Besides, it’s good that someone is up to date on the current events in case something ugly happens—you might go missing one of these days.” His tone was mocking, but the words stuck in my mind.
I rolled my eyes and changed the topic. “I need to get Granny something for Christmas. Do you have any ideas?”
“Um, I don’t think so. What do old people like anyway?” He took another sip of his hot cocoa.
“She isn’t that old, you know. There must be something she would like.” We sat in silence for a moment.
“I know, I know!” He was pleased to have the perfect idea. “When I bring the morning paper, Sister Dolores quickly flips the pages to the movies section. She is totally captivated by the newest motion picture.”
“You stay to talk to her? I thought you threw the paper from your bike.”
“Sometimes I knock on the door.”
“You do? Why?”
“Are you interrogating me now?” He laughed nervously. I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for an answer. “All right, I was anxious to hear about your new job, so I stopped by a few times.”
“James, you worry too much.” Jim frowned at the use of his proper name.
Following Jim’s idea, I got Granny tickets for the movie; a luxury owed to my employment at Oak’s Place.
The culmination of another difficult financial year was almost here; a year in which we had done the best we could to survive with very little money. The hopes and eagerness to restore our country to a healthy economy would carry us into the upcoming year, yet statistics were still bleak.
Christmas came as a reminder to slow down and to appreciate the good we have. For me it was a bittersweet season, one when, unavoidably, sorrow caused by loneliness took over my soul. I was deeply grateful to have Granny, who was everything to me, but more and more often, I found myself aching to know who I really was. Why was I an orphan? Who were my parents? Did I have siblings? Would I ever know? Growing up, these questions had rarely bothered me intensely. But ever since I’d met Mr. Sterling, I found myself consumed with them.
On Christmas morning, as sorrow lingered in the back of my mind, I shook my head and sent any unpleasant thoughts fleeing. Christmas was here, and I was determined to enjoy it with Granny.
Over breakfast, Granny handed me a brown box, a red ribbon tied around it. I was thrilled to find a navy-blue dress lying delicately inside.
“Granny! It’s gorgeous.” I pulled it from the box. My hands felt the soft fabric, and a warm feeling invaded my heart. “It must’ve taken you many hours of sewing. Thank you, Granny, thank you.” I clutched the dress to my shoulders, measuring it against my body. It was perfect. It was designed in the latest fashion—V-neck, three-quarter sleeves, and tight around the waist from which it bowed slightly outwards. I couldn’t wait to wear it.
“You’re welcome, child.” Granny’s embrace was filled with the same tender, loving affection she had always given me.
“I hope you like my gift as much as I like yours.” I handed her the envelope containing three movie tickets.
Granny’s fingers nervously worked to unseal the envelope. “Goodness gracious! How did you know?” Elated, she waved the three tickets for Romeo and Juliet up in the air.
“Jim suggested it to me.”
“Oh, that boy! Always so observant. You know he is a good catch—you should pay more attention to him.”
“Sure he is—the newspaper boy knows it all.” I smiled.
“Who’s the third ticket for?”
“Well, for the good catch, of course.” Jim didn’t know it yet, but if I had to endure Shakespeare, so would he. Besides, he hadn’t been to a movie for a very long time, and I owed him. He had scanned the papers for me for months, giving me the chance to be the first one to arrive at any job opportunities.
“I never really liked Romeo and Juliet. Their story is too sad,” observed Jim when we left the theater.
“What?” I inquired, my mind still lingering on all that had kept the lovers apart.
“People that love each other shouldn’t be so brutally separated,” Jim reflected.
We walked briskly through the piercing cold towards the inviting Buick parked along the street. “No, I suppose not. But taking your own life is never a good idea,” I replied.
“No, but when your loss is so great, even if you live, you might feel as if you are dead,” Granny stated, pulling her scarf up to cover her shivering lips. I stared at her, not knowing why her words caused something in my heart to stir. “But there is always hope in a hereafter, where the prejudice and malice of this world won’t interfere in the matters of the heart.”
Jim opened the car’s door to let Granny in.
“Let’s not speak about death anymore. It gives me the heebie jeebies,” Jim said, walking me to the other side of the car. “Unlike other people, I don’t like messing with it.”
“What do you mean?” I opened the driver’s door.
“What I mean,” he whispered, standing too close to me, “is that you shouldn’t be working for the dead.”
“Don’t be absurd. He isn’t dead, and may I remind you that I need the income,” I whispered back so Granny couldn’t hear.
“Florence, you know that marriage could lighten your heavy load. A husband could take care of you.” Jim’s eyes held mine in a way I didn’t like. I could never see him in the same light as he viewed me. Too late, it occurred to me that inviting Jim along may have given him false hope. I resolved to be more careful in the future.
Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past Page 6