Randy sighed and leaned out the window. It was too dark to see much, but the moon cast enough light to make the shadows and trees take on distorted shapes. Her father said her mother had loved this place. She’d have to digest that a little longer. As far as she could see, the place was dreary and decidedly unlovable. She wondered what her mother had done here for enjoyment. What, exactly, had made her happy? And what had she thought and felt when her older sister disappeared? Was that what made her glad to leave and settle in Seattle—a whole continent away?
Randy continued to stare out the window, listening to the monotonous pounding of the surf nearby. She could smell its brininess, mixed with the pungency of the salt marsh that separated the property from the ocean. She hoped they’d let her go to the beach soon. If she could spend most of her time on the beach, she might be able to survive the long month ahead.
Leaning her head against the window casing, Randy let her thoughts wander. She tried to picture her mother at sixteen, sitting here on this very window seat, staring out at a gloomy yard, where...
A sudden movement behind one of the large, spreading live oak trees interrupted her reverie. She sat up, strained to see through the darkness and was just about to attribute it to an over-stimulated imagination when she saw it again. Something moved at the far edge of the garden. It was as if a particularly dense shadow had come to life. The blob of darkness shifted—hovered—then floated across the yard.
Randy’s heart thudded so hard she pushed a balled fist against her chest. Her breaths were panting gasps as she watched the ethereal figure move—no, flit—from tree to tree, making its way to the house. She sucked in a surprised breath when the figure vanished—melting into the pool of ink skirting an immense live oak. Rubbing her eyes, she leaned farther out the window, frantic for another glimpse of the wraith, but could see nothing. No movement anywhere, just the trees and bushes—shapes and shadows of grotesque silence in the eerie moonlight. The flitting figure had become one with the night.
Randy left the window seat and clambered into bed. She had to jump in because it was so high off the ground. A child would need a step stool to get into this bed. Had her mother used a stool when she was small? Did she have wonderful dreams in this bed; have any nightmares? Did her mother ever see a ghostly figure hovering out in the moonlight?
She burrowed deeper into her pillow and pulled the sheet up over her head. It was too warm for a blanket, but she wanted to be covered—to feel protected. As if a sheet or blanket could protect you. It was childish, she knew, but right now she felt like a child. She was scared, and she hadn’t been scared of bogeymen since she was seven.
When it came right down to it, she missed her dad. She wanted to be back in her own bed, in her own room, with her own things. In Seattle. Not here; this stifling parody of Gone With the Wind. The tears poured from her eyes into her ear, wetting the pillow. She didn’t care. She let them slip down her cheek until she drifted into sleep.
* * * *
A sound splintered her dream into cold reality.
Unwinding and stretching to get the kinks out of her curled legs, Randy opened her eyes and let them adjust to the dark room. She lay still, listening to the unfamiliar night sounds, breathing in the unfamiliar marsh smells that wafted into her room through the open window. An annoying high-pitched hum hovered near her ear, and her hand tried to swat it away. A mosquito. Darn. She’d forgotten there were a lot of mosquitoes in marshy areas. She knew she should close the window, but the effort seemed too much at the moment. Besides, she wanted what little air it provided.
Wide-awake now, Randy turned over to her other side, pulling the sheet closer around her. She looked at the ornate alarm clock beside the bed. 1:33 am. Now she had to go to the bathroom, and it irked just thinking about leaving the comfort of the big bed. Realizing it was fruitless to prolong the inevitable, she tossed back the sheet, jumped out, padded over to the heavy door, and opened it. The hall was in semi-darkness, with only one dim bulb for anemic illumination. The place was a mausoleum. Didn’t they know the world had stepped into the twenty-first century half a lifetime ago?
Randy darted to the bathroom she shared with Willadee and her parents. In less than a minute, she was ready to rush back to the sanctuary of her bedroom. She’d made it halfway down the long hall when her bare feet skidded to a stop on the cool wood flooring. Tiny hairs on the back of her neck tickled, and she sucked in a long breath and held it. Somewhere, someone was crying. It wasn’t loud, but the muffled sobs were unmistakable. Crying. Here? Randy shivered in her thin, over-sized cotton T-shirt.
For several heartbeats she stood in the hall and listened. The source was hard to pinpoint. Who was crying? Was it Willadee? Carolina? Or was it Aunt Amanda? Again Randy shivered. It was eerie and forsaken-sounding; so lost. With a quick shake of her head, she hurried on to her room, shut the door, and scrambled into bed. Pulling the sheet over her head, Randy lay there, her heart auditioning for Led Zeppelin.
Falling back to sleep was difficult. She tossed and turned, envisioning terrible scenarios starring the missing Miranda, assorted ghosts, and things that didn’t make sense. Every two hours she’d wake and burrow deeper into her pillow, desperate for some sleep. But oppressive heat and the darned mosquito wouldn’t let go. By 6:09 am she couldn’t take another minute and rolled out of bed, tramped to the open window and closed it—with a resounding clunk. She didn’t care. Let the whole house wake up, for crying out loud. Snatching a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and some underwear, she made her way to the bathroom to prepare for her first full day at The Shadows.
Better than Disneyland.
Right.
FIVE
Randy descended the wide stairway with all senses alert. The house felt lifeless. Not at all like her own home, where even in the middle of the night you could hear an occasional car outside or a distant siren, or her dad’s low wheezy snore. This house reminded her of a church. A large, empty church. In Transylvania. Everyone else must still be sleeping. Lucky them.
This would be an ideal time to explore, but that was out of the question until she got her bearings. She could only imagine how her austere aunt would react to finding her niece snooping in the study or some place as intimidating. No, better get some breakfast first. She paused at the foot of the stairs and took in her surroundings.
The large living room sat to the right of the front door. Across from that room, the dining room where they’d eaten dinner the previous evening. She padded over to the door at the far end of the dining room, pushed through, and found herself in a hallway that led to yet another door. Taking slow but determined steps, Randy headed for the far door, hesitated then shoved it open.
The kitchen and a spacious one at that, where a dark-skinned woman was whipping something in a large ceramic bowl. The woman looked up in surprise. Randy smiled, uncertain whether she should go any farther. The woman’s plump face broke into an immense white-toothed smile.
“Well, come on in, child. Don’t just stand there lookin’ like you were steppin’ into a bad dream. Come in, come in. I don’t bite.”
Randy’s smile widened in relief. She let the door swing shut behind her and made a beeline to a spotless wooden table in the corner. She slipped onto a wooden chair and was a little surprised when in two blinks of an eye a steaming mug of hot cocoa was set in front of her.
“I hope this is all right, honey. If not, I c’n get you some coffee,” the cook clucked.
Randy breathed in the rich chocolate fragrance then took a sip. Licking her lips, she nodded her thanks. “No, this is great. Just what I needed.”
“That’s good. You drink up, child, and I’ll fry you up some eggs and ham. I’ll get you some grits right away so’s you don’t drop from the hungries.”
“Grits?”
“Don’t tell me, child, that you’ve never eaten grits. They’re the food for what ails you. Give you strength and fill you up real good. Uhm humm.”
“Okay, great...I’ll try
them.” Randy grinned. “My name is Randy, by the way. I’m here visiting for a month.”
“Now I know that, child. I knew your mama and been waitin’ to see her baby girl. I’m real tickled to finally meet you. Didn’t want to die before I could see Emily’s child.” She dished up a steaming bowl of white stuff, which reminded Randy of cream of wheat, and placed it in front of her. “You eat up, honey, while I fry up some eggs.”
“Thanks. Uh, I don’t remember your name. Are you related to Evangeline?”
“Lord, I am real rock-headed, I am. I plain forgot you don’t know ol’ Esther Mae. I take care of the cookin’ and whatnot, while my husband looks out for the property. My man’s name is Henry Jean Benet. We live in a real nice apartment over the garage. Miss Evangeline Amos does her best to take care of the light house cleaning, and I help out with some cleanin’, too, but we depend on my niece, Louisa Benet, once a week to help with the heavy things. Now, Evangeline isn’t related to me or to my Henry, but we love her like our own. We’ve been workin’ in this here house since we were both girls...even before I up and married Henry, if you can believe that. Lord knows, we could use more help around here...what with everybody needin’ something or other every blessed minute of the day. But our Louisa can’t spare any more time as she’s studyin’ to be a teacher, and she doesn’t have a minute to call her own, sweet girl.”
Randy chuckled as the older woman paused to take in a deep breath. Esther heard her and placed both hands on her wide hips. Throwing back her gray head, she let out a laugh like musical bells chiming all together on a Sunday morning.
“You have the prettiest laugh, Esther.” Randy tilted back in her chair then sat up and leaned forward. “Can I call you Esther, or do you prefer Mrs. Benet?”
“Child, you can call me Esther like your dear mama did. Esther Mae, or just plain Esther, will be fine with me. I certainly don’t have time for airs.”
“Okay...Esther...thanks. Anyway, I love your laugh. It’s like wind chimes or church bells or something.” Randy took a spoonful of grits and let the stuff roll over her tongue, trying to decide if she liked it or not. Kind of bland but not too bad. She glanced up. “Tell me about my mother. Or is this a bad time?” she asked, licking her spoon.
“Well, I can talk and work at the same time. Your mama was sweet and pretty and smart. She was the apple of your Aunt Miranda’s eye, too. And when Miranda went away, little Emily was beside herself with grief...she worshiped her big sister so. It broke my heart to see her so unhappy.”
“Just what is this Miranda business? I heard she, like, disappeared all of a sudden, or something. What, exactly, did happen? Sounds like a poorly written Gothic novel.”
Esther frowned and stared out the window for so long that Randy thought she was ill or having some kind of memory lapse. Then, the older woman turned, ebony eyes boring into Randy, and shook her head. “Oh, that was a day to forget. So long ago now, but I won’t ever forget it, no sir, not ever. The misses Amanda and Miranda were as close and alike as two peas in a pod. They adored one another. Then one day they were a fightin’ like two she-cats. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone rooted those two.”
“Rooted?”
“Yes...you know...cast a spell. Seemed as if someone put a spell on those two.”
“Oh,” Randy licked her lips. “I see…” She didn’t but wanted to hear more. “Okay… So, what happened?”
“Well, I guess it was just one of those spats that sisters will have from time to time...I don’t know...but it grew out of hand, it did. There was company that’d come for a picnic, and they’d brought their two handsome sons with ’em. I think that was the heart of the problem...girls and boys bein’ what they are at that age. Lord knows. Something happened, and Miranda just up and ran away in a thunder.”
“Where’d she go?”
“Well, they thought she’d only run into the house. Nobody saw anything out of the ordinary...that they could remember, anyway. By supper they were all lookin’ around for the girl. No luck. They couldn’t find her nowhere. They even searched the marsh, thinkin’ she’d gone there to hide but had been swallowed by the mud, which, mind you, is powerful hungry.”
“Nobody found anything? Not even any foot prints?”
“No, she was gone...lost forever. Some say it was the old Nick who’d taken her, but Mr. Bainbridge told everybody that if they said that kind of nonsense then they wouldn’t be workin’ for him no more.”
Randy scraped the last bit of grits from the bowl and swallowed the bite, her thoughts flying in all directions. The story of Miranda was troubling, and she felt a deep sadness melting over her. No wonder everybody here was a little flaky. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.
“Esther...did my mother leave because of the disappearance of her sister? You said she worshipped her. How did my mother handle Miranda’s disappearance?”
“Oh, your mama was only a baby...she was only three at the time. She couldn’t go anywhere then, but she was sorely disturbed by it, I can tell you. She cried for several days for her Mama Miranda, as she liked to call her. It was real hard on all of us, to be sure, but most especially on your mama and your aunt. Why, Amanda cried night after night for her twin sister, same as little Em’ly. Just she and the baby...a cryin’ an’ a cryin’. And wasn’t nobody could comfort that poor Amanda, neither, ’though we all tried. She died a little that day, I think. Somethin’ mighty big is still missin’ from her soul, so many, many years later. So sad...so sad, dear Lord in Heaven, it’s mighty sad.” She shook her curly head, lifted her ample shoulders, then exhaled.
“Ohh, Lord. Your mama’s feelings were shoved way deep inside so you couldn’t tell just lookin’ at her that anything was wrong, but I knew she was grievin’ same as her big sister. And then they sent her off to school. When she finally went to that big college in California, she met your daddy, married him, and moved to that state they call Washington...a million miles away...and never came back to visit, and I know it’s because of her sister. This place had too many sad memories for her. And Amanda was nothin’ more than a block of stone by then...her heart had just plain shriveled up. Miss Amanda never smiled again, no ma’am. She can’t let go of her grief, and it’s made her tongue as sharp as a knife, let me tell you.”
The old cook wiped her hands on a towel and grimaced. “But I am goin’ on and on about things I shouldn’t. You don’t listen to this old lady, child. I talk too much for my own good. Someone’s going to root me if I don’t shut up and mind my own business.”
Randy folded her hands on the table and lay her head on them. Images of her mother, just a child, bewildered and hurt because her big sister had disappeared without saying good-bye, chased around in her head. She must’ve been devastated. Poor mother. Poor Aunt Amanda. The story put a cork on her petty grievances. All of a sudden her little problems weren’t so awful. She looked up at the cook with a squint.
“So, what did the police say? They called in the police, didn’t they? Or the FBI?”
“Oh, I don know anything about no FBI, but they did everything they could to find the poor girl. She just up and disappeared into thin air. Like I said, it was like she’d been rooted. Only thing I know that can make a person just plain disappear off the face of this here earth. It was a sad day. A very sad day, O, sweet Jesus.”
“But how about her brothers...Uncle Arthur and Uncle Colton? What did they do about it? Surely they got all riled up over her disappearance.”
“Oh, they were just as disbelievin’. Little Colton wasn’t much older than your mama, and he fussed something, too. Except he wasn’t as close to Miranda as baby Emily was, so it wasn’t quite as devastating. Now, Mr. Arthur was another matter. He was away at school so wasn’t there when it happened. When he came home, he was real upset, to be sure, but he was seein’ a lady in Cha’ston so his mind was preoccupied, if you know what I mean.”
“Did he marry the lady...the one from Charleston?”
Esther let out another heavy sigh and her gray head wobbled from side to side. “I don’t understand what happened to her, neither. At first, she acted like she was real happy here, ’though I was hearin’ a mean word to her husband now and again. But in the beginnin’, she was a real bright, cheerful little thing, plannin’ to redecorate the whole house, from top to bottom. She was always goin’ into Chas’ton for new gewgaws and folderol’s. And then, after a while, Mister Arthur started actin’ real moody and depressed...sometimes downright angry with Miss Elizabeth. Of course, it isn’t any of my business, and my man would be that angry with me for lettin’ my tongue wag loose. I think they were havin’ a hard time with money...she likin’ to spend it like it grew on trees and all, and him likin’ to hold onto it, if you know what I mean.
“Before y’know it, she isn’t smiling any more, and he isn’t smiling any more. Mister Arthur starts wanderin’ around the house sighin’ and frettin’ and she starts tongue-lashin’ him and naggin’ him something awful. I know the folks were real worried about those two. They kept tellin’ Mister Arthur to take him and his missus to Chas’ton and get some plain ol’ fashioned counseling, but Mister Arthur, he just said they were to mind their own business. But it didn’t do no good. No sir. She starts lookin’ sad and thoughtful...what with her husband so moody and all...and I tell you, my Henry and me...well, we’d just about had it. We were thinkin’ our time here had come to an end...it be so depressin’. And then...and then she goes and leaves us. Right in the middle of the night. Lordy.”
Shade and Shadow Page 3