Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past

by Marcia Maidana

  “Thanks for coming with us, Jim. I’ll see you later.” I jumped in my seat, instantly closing the door.

  “Did you invite Jim over to the monastery for supper?” Granny inquired. My fingers fumbled in my pocket for the car’s key.

  “No, he can’t. He’s busy,” I lied, averting my eyes from Granny. She waved at Jim as he rode away on his bike.

  With Christmas past, I felt exactly the way Mr. Sterling had described it—empty inside.

  Day after day, the crystal snow fell tirelessly on Geneva like a white sheet covering everything that it touched.

  Granny didn’t tolerate idleness, so she kept me busy cleaning the monastery in preparation for the arrival of the European sisters. As I scraped and washed floors, I counted the minutes until my long vacation would come to an end.

  “You sure seem excited about going back to work,” Granny observed over breakfast.

  “I’m ready to do something else besides cleaning,” I said with a smile.

  “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

  “Well—yes. Why?” Hurriedly, I concealed the list for Oak’s Place’s renovations in my pocket.

  “Child, I know you better than you want to believe.” Granny was serious now. “Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you speak about Mr. Sterling?”

  “What do you mean?” I put down my teacup.

  “You can pretend nothing is happening, but you have to listen to me first.” I didn’t want to have this conversation. I started to stand up. She pressed a firm hand on my shoulder, sitting me back down. I had to listen. “You are an adult, I know. Nonetheless, you haven’t lived as long as I have, and even though I’ve been a nun most of my life, I was once in love. So, I do know a few things about love’s matters.”

  “You were?” This was a startling revelation.

  “I know it’s hard to believe. Even after all these years, it’s still difficult for me to think about.”

  “What happened?” Her hands were entwined on top of the table and I placed mine on top of them.

  “Child, there are two kinds of love. One is real and will last forever. The other is just a passing emotion, one that if not controlled under proper boundaries could destroy your life. The key is to distinguish between the two.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “It’s tricky, but you can start by seeing things as they really are. You were given a brain to think and analyze the facts—that’s where you start.” I feared Granny’s coherent rationalization. I didn’t want to speak about Mr. Sterling. She was supposing things; I didn’t even know what I felt for him.

  I decided the best course of action was to change the topic. “Tell me about the person you loved.”

  “Perhaps someday, when the appropriate time comes.”

  “Granny, why won’t you tell me?”

  She ignored my question. “I know you don’t, or won’t, speak about your feelings towards Mr. Sterling. I wish you would trust me so I could help you understand your confusion,” she said truthfully.

  I looked down at the table, pulling my hands away from hers.

  “But since you won’t, let’s just go over a few facts so you can think about it. First, what do you know about him? Not much. Has he ever been married? You don’t know. Could you find out? Not likely, at least not the whole truth. From where did he obtain his vast fortune? You don’t know. Could he be hiding from something or someone? Is that the reason why he is here? You don’t know. Would you ever be able to find out? You can’t answer that either.” Granny’s clarity was dreadful, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.

  I stood abruptly and the chair scraped against the floor in protest. “I have to go, Granny. Don’t worry, it’s just a job.” I put on my coat and reached for the door.

  “Child, one more thing.” She removed her glasses and placed them on the table. “He is more than twice your age.”

  I opened the door and was hit with a wave of cold air. “I know—I know.”

  “He could be your father,” was her final stinging remark.

  I crossed the courtyard, a dull, throbbing headache overpowering me, and I wrestled with my thoughts, my desires, and, unfortunately, reality as I drove down High Banks Road.

  5

  ~ Unexpected ~

  “England? I can’t believe it,” I choked on my own words.

  Incredulity swept over me. Somehow, I thought he would always be here, close to me.

  “Yes, Mr. Sterling has gone back to England,” Zaira affirmed.

  “Why did he go?” I crumpled the list of renovation ideas in my hand.

  “I have no idea, Florence. He arranged it all with Mrs. White’s help.”

  “When is he coming back?”

  “I don’t know that either, but it’s a very long trip.” Zaira brought a large pot filled with potatoes to the table and sat down to peel them.

  “He was so sick. How could he leave like that?” I dropped down on a chair next to hers.

  “I know. It’s very odd. Although, Dr. Petersen came to see him and gave him some medicine to help with his stomach pain.”

  “How often does Dr. Petersen come around?” I had never seen him at Oak’s Place.

  “Not too often. Mr. Sterling insisted to see him this time.”

  “Looks like the medicine really helped. What did Mrs. White have to say about all this?”

  “Oh, she wasn’t happy at all. Mr. Sterling informed her of the trip shortly before Christmas. So, you can imagine Mrs. White’s mood on Christmas day. Consider yourself lucky not to have been here.” Zaira shook her head, displeased with the memories.

  “I can imagine. So, when did he leave?”

  “The day after Christmas.”

  “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Neither could Mrs. White. She tried to persuade him to stay until the very last minute. I just happened to be cleaning around the hall as they were conversing in his office. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Zaira’s tone vibrated with embarrassment. I knew how she felt, although I didn’t plan to share my own experience.

  “Of course, you didn’t. But what did they say?”

  “Well, Mr. Sterling said that he needed to find out for himself. Mrs. White sounded very disturbed by the idea. Well, disturbed is an understatement, she was more—frantic—agitated—”

  “She was frantic about what? What idea?”

  “Oh, I missed that part. They were already in the middle of the conversation when I got to the corridor. Mrs. White argued that his health wasn’t good enough. After disputing the matter a little longer, Mr. Sterling insisted that he was going and nothing could change his mind.”

  “What could possibly have pushed him to take such a rushed trip? A trip to England in his condition?”

  “Something extremely important, I’m sure, based on what he said.”

  “And what is that? Zaira, tell me.”

  “He said, ‘I can’t die without knowing. I must see for myself.’”

  The rest of the day, Zaira’s words pressed in my mind like a sliver in my skin, causing a festering uneasiness.

  Another Friday afternoon came my way, with an unexpected surprise. Mr. Vines and Mrs. White had decided to spend the weekend in New York City. Zaira and I were perplexed by the unusual trip, yet happy to have them gone; the break was much needed.

  We assembled in the front gardens to see them off.

  “Take care of yourself, Deborah,” Mr. Snider said, his voice filled with sarcasm. “It would be unbearable for us if something happened to you in the Big Apple. Like being eaten by a giant worm.”

  Zaira stuck her elbow into his ribs and cautioned under her breath, “Mind yourself, Mr. Snider.”

  “Mr. Snider, you’re as pleasant as always,” Mrs. White said, glaring at him. “Luckily, you don’t have to worry about me. I wouldn’t deprive you of the pleasure of my existence.”

  “Have a nice trip,” I wished both of them.

  “Get in the car, Mr. Vines,
” Mrs. White ordered, and looking at us one last time, she added, “I hope you can handle this place on your own for a few days.”

  Mr. Snider walked behind the car as it slowly headed towards the front gate through the snowy driveway. When the car had turned onto the road, Mr. Snider closed the gate and strolled back to the front porch. “Finally,” he muttered.

  “Mr. Snider, you’re as pleasant as always,” Zaira repeated Mrs. White’s words mockingly. “If it weren’t for Mr. Sterling, she would have fired you a long time ago.”

  “I would love to see her try! The old hag would die of boredom without us, no one to torture. Imagine that!” Mr. Snider chuckled and disappeared behind the side of the house.

  “Florence, would you please stay with me for the weekend?” Nothing was said, but we both understood that the prospect of being in the isolated house alone with the gruff Mr. Snider wasn’t too appealing.

  “Why don’t you come to the monastery?”

  “You know how much I’d like that, but I can’t. Mrs. White left me in charge here.” Zaira reached for my hand. “Please. We can sleep in the guest room.”

  “All right, I’ll stay under one condition.” I smiled.

  “Anything you want.”

  “Tomorrow, we’ll go downtown. I’ll show you around.”

  “Oh, Florence, that sounds marvelous!”

  The guest room was spacious, with tall ceilings and two large windows facing northwest. There were two small beds, two nightstands, a matching dresser along the sidewall, and in the corner, a beautiful antique mirror stood on iron legs.

  “You like the mirror,” Zaira observed, catching my eye.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It matches the beds’ headpieces.” She turned my attention to the elegantly carved headboards.

  “I love the arched tops.”

  “Mr. Sterling brought most of the furniture from England. To tell you the truth, I’ve been dying to sleep here.” She smiled, I could see why. The room was a luxury for both of us.

  “It’s too bad it’s not used more often.”

  Zaira’s hands busily placed white sheets on one of the beds. “Oh no, Mr. Sterling is definitely not a sociable person.”

  “Is it because of his health?” I moved to the opposite side of the bed to help her tuck the sheets under the mattress.

  “I don’t think so, but I’m sure that doesn’t help either.”

  Nudged by all the unanswered questions that Granny had thrown at me during my Christmas break, I wrestled between curiosity and properness. I wanted to know, but Zaira hadn’t been willing to disclose much about Mr. Sterling in the past, and this might not be the best time to inquire.

  “What’s on your mind?” Zaira asked, reading the expression of debate on my face and bringing my debate to an end.

  “Zaira, what do you know about Mr. Sterling’s past?”

  “Don’t tell me you fancy him.” She raised an eyebrow.

  For a quick moment, I stared at her, clutching a blanket in my hands, and tried to make sense of ‘fancy.’ The British had a peculiar way of speaking, but I quickly caught on to its meaning. “Nonsense!”

  “Why are you blushing then?” She reached for the blanket to help me spread it on the bed.

  I chose my next words carefully. “The truth is, I think he is a mysterious person, and I’m drawn to him because of that. Perhaps we can call it curiosity.”

  “I guess that’s a good name for it.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I don’t know about mysterious, but he does possess a very strong personality. I’m glad I don’t have much interaction with him. He can be a little intimidating sometimes.”

  “You can say that again.” I started to fluff the pillows.

  “Well, I didn’t know the young Alexander Sterling at all. When I came to southern England to work for Mr. Sterling’s parents, he had already moved out.” She sighed. “The fact that he was very successful in his career combined with the fact that he had had a tragic personal life wasn’t a secret, but I was too young to care about any details. Mrs. White and Mr. Vines have worked for the Sterlings much longer than I have, but it would be easier to make a chicken talk than to get any information from them. Besides, no one else ever spoke about it. It was one of those ‘too personal’ topics to meddle with. Although I did hear rumors now and then.”

  “Rumors can distort reality but most often than not contain much truth.” I held my breath as Zaira considered my words.

  “I suppose you are right,” she finally said. “I’ll tell you what I know, and you can decide what to believe for yourself.” I nodded in agreement to her proposal. “The rumor was that Mr. Sterling’s happy marriage was a façade designed to help him succeed in the army. I believe his wife was related to a high official or something along those lines.”

  “So, he did have a wife,” I murmured.

  “Of course, he did. My understanding is that half of the girls in England wanted to marry him.” Zaira laughed. “Including Mrs. White, who, according to the rumors, when the news of his wedding reached the house, locked herself in her room for days with the excuse of being sick and in a way, she was. Her heart was broken. Forgive my bluntness, but I do believe that Mrs. White was in love with Mr. Sterling. Perhaps, even after all these years, she still is.” Zaira’s statement made my stomach turn, but in a way matched what I had seen of Mrs. White’s nearly fanatical obsession with Mr. Sterling’s well-being.

  “That’s a definite possibility—but what became of his wife?”

  “She died giving birth to their first child.”

  “Oh…that must’ve been awful.” I wasn’t quite sure what to say.

  “One can only imagine.”

  “What happened to the child?”

  “The baby died too.”

  The beginnings of a deep sympathy for Mr. Sterling started up inside me. “Was it a girl or a boy?”

  “I don’t know,” Zaira answered thoughtfully. “I’ve never thought about that.”

  “Zaira, how old would the child be today if it had survived?”

  “Well, let me think. I believe they died a couple of years before I came to his parents’ house—I was around sixteen then. I’m now thirty-five, so the child would be around nineteen or so.” Her words sent a little shiver up my spine. I was nineteen years old, the same age that Mr. Sterling’s child would have been. But I was being silly. There were countless people born that same year. There was no possible connection.

  “What a tragedy,” I quickly said to hide the incoherent ideas surfacing in my mind. “Poor Mr. Sterling. The pain of their loss must’ve crushed him.”

  “I think it still does. People say his personality totally changed after that. He became what he is today, lonely, and isolated from the world. Interesting enough, though, he never returned to his parents’ house to live, so see, I never really had much interaction with him.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Being the only child, after his parents, Margaret and William, died, there wasn’t much left for him in England. He retired, and Mrs. White convinced him to move to America. She thought that here he could start a new life, but nothing changed, except for his sickness, which only got worse. She also recruited Mr. Snider and me to come with them, leaving an older couple to take care of the Sterlings’ farm.” Zaira looked at the old clock resting on the dresser.

  “Mrs. White isn’t here. You don’t have to stress over dinner. I’m sure Mr. Snider won’t complain much.” I smiled reassuringly.

  “I guess you’re right. For once I can relax a little.”

  “Zaira, I confess that Mr. Sterling’s sickness puzzles me. For how long has he been ill?”

  “I don’t know exactly…since sometime after he retired. Yes, that’s right. I remember Mr. Sterling saying that work had kept him healthy and he couldn’t understand how his health had declined so fast,” informed Zaira with certainty.

  “Isn’t it strange that doctors can’t find a cure?”

/>   “I suppose,” she shrugged. “All I know is that he saw a couple of doctors in England and the one here, I think that’s it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Sterling and Mrs. White know exactly what the source of his sickness is but choose to keep it private. As you know, Mrs. White handles the delicate matters, and as stern as she is, she does take good care of him, especially when he is really ill. Sometimes she stays up all night caring for him.”

  “I’m sure she does.” I felt jealous.

  “Although, I admit that sometimes her devotion to him is a little incomprehensible, considering that as far as I know, she doesn’t get anything in return…hmm…” Zaira paused, letting a new thought emerge. “You know, Florence, Mrs. White might see her deceased husband in him and might fear to lose him as well.”

  “That’s an intriguing assumption.” I considered the feasibility of her idea. The words Mrs. White had said so many weeks ago, left my lips, haunting the room with the possibility of an unspoken confession. “‘We all have our personal shadows to chase after…’”

  Zaira lay sound asleep, her breathing even and deep. Only a miracle would bring her back from her happy place of rest before morning. I wasn’t so lucky. Staying overnight at Oak’s Place had not seemed so dreadful until all the lights were extinguished, and a thick silence invaded its walls. I wasn’t afraid, but two women sleeping alone in such a spacious mansion, Mr. Snider in the servants’ quarters far from earshot, and taking into account all the unsettling things that had transpired since I set foot at Oak’s Place made me restless.

  The more I tried to clear my mind and force myself to sleep, the more awake I was. In addition, I could not deny that the crushing weight of all the unanswered questions that surrounded me was escalating my curiosity.

  Nothing made sense. I felt as though I was dealing with a large puzzle, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t piece it together for there were too many pieces missing. At times, I wondered if I was imagining things that weren’t there. Was it I that didn’t fit with reality or the other way around?