by Karen Glista
Donja felt her spirits sink.
Carson slowed the Suburban, navigating a cobblestone drive. Instantly swallowed by a creepy forest with gnarled limbs that blocked the sun, Donja’s jaw dropped. She leaned back in the seat as the tires beat on the inconsistent stones lining the drive.
“This is spooky,” Frankie blurted gripping the front seat and sliding halfway between Carson and Lisa.
“It needs some work and the trees need trimming.” Carson chuckled. “It’s old, but what a gem. You up to helping me get her in shape, big boy?”
“Sure,” Frankie beamed.
“It’s like stepping back in time,” Lisa cooed as they left the forested tunnel, sunlight breaching the windows. They rounded a tight curve, the half-mile drive winding through a meadow dotted with wildflowers.
“That’s a little better,” Donja said, not realizing she was speaking out-loud. Several deer feeding on the billowing grass dashed away, with tails flashing.
“Mom, look!” Frankie exclaimed, pointing at the fleeing herd.
“Yes, we’ve seen them every time we’ve come here,” she said as the Suburban rolled past towering spruce within view of the house.
“Welcome to Hampton Manor.” Carson announced with pride.
“Wow!” Frankie gasped.
Donja slid forward beside him, her face inches from her mom while staring through the windshield.
“No way.” Donja whispered.
“Rather amazing isn’t it?” Carson beamed.
“To say the least,” Donja mumbled under her breath. She narrowed her eyes, scanning the brown stone mansion bleached pale by years of weather. She surveyed the vines and yellow flowers that spanned the entire south wall of the three-story monstrosity and for no credible reason, a sense of gloom pervaded.
The manor, which was perched on a bluff with rocky banks that fell with a steep drop to the St. Mary’s River below, had a beautiful yet haunting appeal, rather like a spider on her web, awaiting prey. Donja, taken by the eerie yet nostalgic beauty, shivered, unsure of her feelings.
“It’s big,” Frankie whispered.
Drawing closer, Donja eyed the antiquated lady with wooden shutters like lashes that framed her windowed eyes and it felt as if she was watching their approach. A second story balcony with a sculptured bannister seemed to welcome them in, yet the hand-crafted gables and eaves had an eerie look. Twin stacks rose over the tiled roof and on the third floor, double doors stood behind a second, tiny balcony from which one could surely view the entire world. For a moment the mansion looked alive, and though it was not possible, Donja thought it breathed.
Speechless, Donja swallowed hard as they drew nearer to a separate triple car garage flanked by boxwood shrubs, hostas and blooming lilacs. Near the bluff she spied a domed gazebo half covered in creeping honeysuckle. She surveyed the lawn which was perfectly manicured with immaculate edging, rolling with a gentle slope toward a darkened forest.
“Isn’t this a little out of our league?” Donja questioned.
Carson laughed.
“Seriously. How can you guys afford this?”
“Luck,” he smiled. “Number one, it’s inconvenient, twenty-five minutes from town, needs a new well and the bluff needs rock fill, else the old gal will eventually fall to her death on the river banks below. The plumbing is ancient, and it needs a new furnace, not to mention electrical work, light fixtures, paint, new wallpaper, a bit of mortar—”
“Carpet in the master bedroom and new kitchen cupboards,” Lisa broke in.
“And that too,” Caron smiled, “although I for one love the antique cupboards, perhaps just a redo and some granite countertops?”
“I could live with that,” Lisa mused, hands clasped beneath her chin.
She glanced at Donja as Carson parked beside the garage. “Isn’t our new home, just beautiful?”
“Donja knitted her brows. “The jury’s still out.”
“Come on now, don’t you think it’s charming?”
“Well, I guess that part of me does, yet there’s something,” she said with an intense look out the window, “something I can’t put my finger on that has me spooked.”
“I’m spooked too,” Frankie chimed in. “It looks haunted.”
Lisa smirked. “Enough of that already, it’s not haunted. Come on, you two. Let me give you the grand tour.”
They walked up a curved, flagstone sidewalk then climbed up stone steps bordered by concrete sculptures of snarling lions. On the rocked landing beneath an ornate stoop, they paused as Lisa found her keys. When they passed through the massive front door which was hand sculptured with a lion’s head brass knocker, Donja understood her mother’s phrase, “a step back in time.” It was a complete passage from modern day to an antiquated past. The foyer which was elongated with a domed ceiling and walnut wainscot, was tiled in cut stone with intricate woodwork. Stepping through twelve-foot, arched doors with walnut pillars, they entered the living room which looked like a movie set with antique furniture, a piano, and a fireplace that encompassed an entire wall. Donja caught the scent of age, dust and soot which still lingered on the cold, half-burned logs, snuggled behind wrought iron fire dogs. She eyed the mantel topped by an oval mirror situated between antique lamps. She cast her eyes to the windows dressed in lace with sculptured cornices. It didn’t seem real, more like a picture or a dream.
“Here’s the dining room,” Lisa mused, “and I love it.”
Donja, jerked from uncanny disquiet, wandered across a thick flowered rug, following the sound of her mother’s voice. She stepped inside the dining room which was long and narrow with more of the walnut wainscot topped by faded, rose wallpaper. She ran her fingers over the glossy walnut table dressed by elegant, high-backed chairs. Twin servers which were intricately carved with lion’s head doors flanked both sides, and a massive chandelier with perhaps fifty burned out candles suspended by a black chain centered the room. Donja walked to the windows and gazed down the side of the bluff to the river below. She turned to her mom. “Does all this outdated furniture come with house?”
“Yes.” Lisa replied.
Donja frowned. “Who lived here?” she asked running a finger down the expanse of a buffet, the smell of age wafting, “and why pray tell, would they move and leave everything behind?”
“The last resident,” Lisa said lighting the oil lamps which adorned the walls, “was a frail old woman who didn’t speak English. According to the attorney, at her death, the estate was to be sold, as is with the proceeds donated for the funding of a halfway house for Chippewa women and children.”
“Was she Chippewa?”
“No, actually she was a French Canadian named Mams Lenieux and the home was not hers, it belonged to a Nara Engadine who was rumored to be a Chippewa ghost.”
“A ghost?” Donja said with wide eyes.
“The attorney said it was widely believed at the time only because Nara, who was an introvert never left this house. Her behavior fueled the rumors and the whole of Sault Ste. Marie, Canadian and American alike, feared her.”
“Mom, that’s crazy. People don’t think such without reason.”
“It was just gossip.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
“Not always.”
Donja rolled her eyes. “Okay, so, what happened to this Nara, and how did this other woman, the French one, come to own this place?”
“Mams never actually owned it, she only inherited the right to live out her life here. At her death, the estate reverted back to an attorney who was the overseer of Nara’s original will.”
“How bizarre that a woman who was believed to be a ghost, would leave her home to a caregiver and not a family member. Sounds like the makings of horror movie.”
“Don’t let your imagination run away with you,” Lisa said, wiping at spider webs atop the dining room door. “People do strange things and I guess Nara, who never married didn’t want to be alone, so she bartered the house to h
ave a companion. I’m just thankful we could pull it off.”
“Pull what off?” Donja asked.
“Buying the house with fifty acres,” Lisa blurted. “It needs a lot of work, but even then, it wasn’t cheap.”
Donja scrunched her forehead. “Okay, I can’t get this ghost woman out of my head. Any idea how this woman got this estate in the first place?”
“Lisa shook her head. “I have no idea, but I don’t want any more mention of ghosts, Frankie will be scared.”
“Donja glanced around and noticed that her brother was gone. Her eyes widened. “What happened to him?”
“Would you stop already? He’s with Carson.”
Donja met her gaze. “Well thanks a lot, Mom,” she exaggerated the word. “You’re worried about Frankie being scared but not me?”
Lisa scowled. “You don’t seriously believe in ghost, do you?”
“I don’t know…maybe,” she mumbled. “And like I said, where there’s smoke there’s fire and you gotta admit, this place is spooky.”
“Enough,” Lisa said with a hug. “It’s not eerie, it’s not haunted and there is, No—Such—Thing—As—Ghosts!”
“So, I suppose asking to go back and live with Grandma because I’m scared of this house, is out of the question.”
Lisa’s demeanor shifted dramatically. “Donja Marie Bellanger, that’s not an option. We’re a family and we’re sticking together.”
Donja dropped her head.
“Now, the day’s slipping away,” Lisa said as her arm slid across Donja’s shoulder. She kissed her head. “Let’s get the Suburban unpacked and then, you and I need to take a run to town for groceries.”
“And dog food,” Donja whispered. “I packed it, but it’s in the moving van, which will be here, when?” she asked with questioning eyes.
“Tomorrow.”
“Bummer,” Donja smiled, no humor intended.
Lisa gripped her arms and turned her. They faced off. “Honey, are you okay with all this?”
Donja just stared.
Lisa’s demeanor softened. “I didn’t mean to be so blunt about your grandma, but I can’t lose you, there’s already been too much loss in this family. Won’t you give this a chance, for me…for our family.”
Donja stalled.
“Talk to me, Donja, I can see the battle in you,” Lisa whispered. “My God, I can all but hear the drums of war.” She exhaled. “You’re so much like your father, he could never hide his feelings.”
The ‘just like your father’ hit a cord and Donja raised her head. They shared a look of some intensity. “Maybe I am like him,” Donja mumbled, “but what do you expect of me?”
“That you would adjust to—”
“Why am I the one that has to change and adjust?” Donja chided. “I didn’t want this, I didn’t.”
“There was no other way. I’m not a young woman anymore, Donja. I want security, love and support not only for me but you and Frankie.”
“We were just fine.”
“No, we weren’t. I was alone trying to work and support two kids. The bills were piling up, a mortgage, and a house that needed repairs not to mention that my car was dying on me. College tuition was just around the corner and Frankie needs braces, another big-ticket item. I needed help, someone to turn to…someone to love.”
“I could have found a job.”
Lisa shook her head. “No, I’m the parent and this was my decision.”
“Fine, but why did that have to include me?”
Lisa dropped her head, fidgeting with her hands.
“My friends will graduate next year without me. I’ve lost Debbie and Grandma and I won’t lie, I’m uncomfortable with this new family, especially Makayla who you have forced upon me. You just don’t you get it? She doesn’t like me.”
Lisa’s head snapped up. “That’s funny, she said the same thing about you.”
Donja rolled her eyes. “What?”
“She said she’s uncomfortable around you because she thinks you don’t like her, the way she dresses and all.”
“Come on Mom, that’s so lame. She doesn’t like goth!”
“And you don’t like glam, but can’t the two of you meet in the middle?”
“Well…”
“Please.”
Donja bit at her lip, debating. Finally, she conceded with a huff. “Looks like I don’t have much choice.”
Lisa hugged her without warning, stroking her hair. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too,” Donja whispered holding back a, but let me out of this hell she so wanted to add, but didn’t.
Lisa pulled back and brushed a lock from Donja’s cheek. “Grab your backpack and let’s go check out the village.”
“Village? Oh Jesus, don’t tell me there’s no city.”
Lisa rocked with a boisterous laugh which caught Donja off guard. “It’s small, I won’t lie, but just across the International Bridge the sister city on the Canadian side is huge, about eighty thousand and its only minutes away.”
“There are two Sault Ste. Marie’s?” she queried, remembering that Debbie asked the same question.
“Yeah, one in Michigan and one in Canada, and like Carson said, everyone here calls them the Soo.” Lisa pulled the Suburban keys from her purse. “You ready?”
~~~
Donja was not entirely disappointed with the quaint little city called the Soo. As they explored Lisa gave her quite the history lesson. The region was occupied by Native Americans over a thousand years ago. In the 1600’s, a French trading center was established on the shores of the St. Mary’s River, which flows from Lake Superior to Lake Huron. The settlement, called Sault Saint Marie which means the ‘Rapids of Saint Mary’ in French, was built on an island and within no time, it flourished. Today, shipping vessels in the Great Lakes system bypass the dangerous rapids by means of the American Soo Locks, which Lisa explained, are the world’s busiest. Donja listened, interested despite herself. The fact that ships, up to a thousand feet long and over one hundred feet wide pass through the locks daily was utterly mindboggling. “I really want to see that,” she said with her first bit of enthusiasm since she left St. Joe. “I can’t image how they lower and raise ships, it sounds impossible.”
“It works. Water in, the ships rise, water out, they drop and resume their passage. I’ll get Carson to bring us all down for a tour once we’re settled in. Frankie will be fascinated.”
“That’s for sure,” Donja said.
In the bustling downtown Michigan Soo, Donja discovered enchanting shops of every kind, and more importantly, luxuries she thought she had lost moving as far north as one can without being Canadian. She surveyed the street vendors and sidewalk cafés crowded with patrons from all walks of life. “Looks like a melting pot of people.”
“It is,” Lisa said, navigating traffic, “and there are lots of Chippewa.”
“I see that,” Donja said eyeing two young, handsome guys, obviously of Indian descent exiting a sidewalk café.
“This was once their domain and though the French settlers named it the Soo, the Ojibwe,” Lisa said with a cursory glance, “which means Chippewa…”
“Say that again,” Donja interrupted with brows weaved tightly.
“Ojibwe, but you’d best google it ’cause I’m not exactly sure how to say it, but anyway, Carson said the Chippewa called this area Baawitigong, which meant ‘at the cascading rapids’”.
Donja’s eyes narrowed and she recalled hearing that word. Anna flashed in her mind. She glanced at her mom. “Interesting, but I have to wonder why Grandma and Grandpa turned their backs on their families, I mean surely they both still have relatives in this area?”
“Your father was curious about that as well, that’s why we were planning a trip. He had every intention of tracking down family members on both sides of the river, but...” her words trailed off. “Some things are just not meant to be.”
Donja watched her mom’s demeanor shift from daylight
to dark. She averted her gaze and judging by the look she had just witnessed in her mom’s eyes, she realized that although her mom loved Carson with most of her heart, a piece was missing, a piece forever gone, buried deep beneath a marbled tombstone marked, ‘Donald Frank Bellanger.’
She closed her eyes.
Life’s not fair.
~~~
The first thing Donja noticed when they got back to Hampton Manor was a shiny silver Lexus parked in the drive.
“Oh, I see Makayla’s here,” Lisa said.
“She has a Lexus?”
“Yes.”
Donja’s mouth gaped open. “And just how did that happen?”
“She bought it.”
Donja huffed dramatically. “You mean Carson bought it for her, right?”
“No, she bought it herself,” Lisa clarified. “Her mother was from a wealthy French family and at her death, left her quite a sum of money.”
“So, she’s rich?” Donja said flatly.
“Umm, kinda,” Lisa said putting the keys in her purse.
Donja rolled her eyes. “Lovely, just lovely. I had to sell my rusted out Civic for $400 which won’t go far on a down payment for a new ride, and all the while my stepsister’s driving a Lexus.”
Lisa opened her door, then paused. “Calm down, Cinderella,” she smiled. “Carson’s going to give you his car, and he can use the Suburban which he needs anyway to haul building supplies.”
“You mean that white Subaru?”
“No, I get the Subaru, you get his Mustang which is barely a year old, in mint condition I might add.”
“Mom, are you serious?” Donja gasped.
“Yes, he never uses it and our family won’t fit inside, it’s a two-door fastback.”
“Oh my God, I might scream!”
“Please,” Lisa whispered softly as if someone might hear, “don’t let on that I told you, he wants it to be a surprise.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t forget to thank him.”