“With that she collapsed to the floor, and I sat down beside her and held her tightly. ‘He killed George,’ she said. ‘He killed George,’ she repeated over and over, crying from somewhere deep within her soul. We hugged and cried for a long time, unable to do anything else. I cried about what my life had become, about all the dreams I had never realized. Zelma cried about George. And though Zelma was a woman who seemed to have everything, I’m sure she cried that night about the things she didn’t have, about the things she’d lost over the years, including the son she’d shared with George.”
“We sat in front of that door for a long while but didn’t hear a peep out of Granville. Finally I rose up, intent on using the telephone to notify the sheriff. But Zelma stopped me. ‘He’s not worth it,’ she said. ‘He’s been beaten with a cane and a skillet and shot. That won’t look good in court, not for either of us. No one will care about our sad story, I’m sure’
“I knew she was absolutely right. In fact, I was glad she said it first. I offered her my hand and assisted her to her feet. After helping her to bed and comforting her a moment, I went to my bedroom and shut and locked the door. Exhausted from it all, I soon fell asleep.”
“That’s an incredible story,” said Ethan after a moment of contemplative silence. He didn’t know what else to say.
“When you say story it sounds like you are saying it’s something I made up.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“At any rate, it doesn’t matter now if you believe me or not. When I show you the body, you will know for certain that everything I’ve told you is the truth.”
“Are you really going to show me the body?” asked Ethan, his heart beating in his ears and his stomach feeling as though he’d suddenly stepped into a hole.”
“Absolutely, unless you are too afraid.”
“No, I’m not afraid,” he said, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t. “I want to see it.”
“Very well then, follow me.”
Ethan followed Clara to the hallway, where they stood in front of the cellar door. He watched nervously as she turned the skeleton key in the lock. The door squeaked as she pushed it open, revealing a dark stairwell leading down to an even greater darkness. She flipped a switch, illuminating the passageway to the abyss below.
As he followed her down the creaking staircase, he had the thought that maybe he was walking into a trap, that he knew too much, and that Miss Satterfield would hit him in the head, leaving him down there with Horace. He considered running away for a moment, but his curiosity got the best of him. He would be sure not turn his back to her. Also, he could almost certainly outrun her if it came to that.
The bottom of the steps revealed a big room with a few old tools scattered around and food stored in green mason jars, nothing to be afraid of, really.
“I don’t see anything,” said Ethan.
“Did you think he’s just be lying out in the open all these years?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“He’s behind that shelf of mason jars. There’s a hole in the wall behind it that leads to a dirt-floored room. That’s where he’s at.”
“How’d he get there?” he asked. “Did y’all drag him back there?”
“To tell the truth, Zelma and I were too big of a wreck at the time to be so clever. We’d made plans on disposing of his body, but neither of us could even muster enough courage to open the cellar door. It just wasn’t in us to do something so horrible.
“When Granville was finally reported missing by someone, the sheriff came to the house to investigate. The stench having become unbearable, Zelma and I had been packing our things to leave on a long trip somewhere when he showed up. The Sheriff noticed the smell right away when I answered the door.
“He asked permission to search the property. Before I could object, Zelma walked up behind me and gave consent. She felt that there was nothing more to be done, that we had been caught. Unable to bring it upon ourselves to confess, we hugged each other and cried as the sheriff walked down into the cellar. He was gone an agonizingly long time before he came back up the steps with a handkerchief held over his nose and mouth.
“‘I don’t know how you two ladies have been living here with the smell,’ he said. ‘I need one of you to find me a handsaw. You’re doing this all wrong. You two got a death wish or something? They hang people for this kind of stuff.’
“‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Zelma said.
“‘Ma’am, you know exactly what I mean—you both do. Now don’t try to fill me in on the details. In fact, it’s best to seal your mouths shut on the matter. I’m sure old Granville did something to deserve what he got, and his ghost would like nothing more than to get the two of you in a mess of trouble. He was the meanest man in the state. I can’t imagine why you married him in the first place, Ma’am, not to sound impolite. In my opinion you have suffered enough already. Now, one of you go grab a handsaw, and let’s get this over with. If this ever gets out, I know nothing about it. I want that to be clear. When we finish this dirty work, you ladies are never to mention what happened to anyone. I’m doing the two of you a favor because I know what kind of man he was, so don’t make me regret it.’
“Zelma started to say something, but he put his finger to his lips, indicating for her to be silent. I ran and retrieved a saw from the outbuilding. The sheriff used the saw to cut a hole in the wall, and I helped him carry the body into the dirt-floored area behind the wall. I then helped him move the shelves to cover up the hole and the gruesome scene behind it. Zelma tried to help us, but I made her go back upstairs, seeing that she was deeply disturbed over the whole matter.
“‘Ladies,’ the sheriff said when we’d gotten back upstairs and locked the cellar door behind us, ‘I suggest you two go on a long trip far away. Granville abandoned you and went away, perhaps found another woman he liked better. You need to get away from it all to recover from your grief. As I can’t express enough, you will say nothing about what has transpired today; I won’t back you if you do. Oh, and stop by the post office and have them hold your mail for you, or have it sent somewhere else temporarily. We don’t need the mailman to smell anything suspicious. I’ll come by on occasion and check on the house. Now, I’ve got to get back before they report me missing too.
“‘Have a good day, Ladies. Oh, and don’t ever think for a second that you haven’t done the world a favor, whatever has transpired here.’
“And that was it,” she continued. “He walked away, leaving us both stunned. After we regained our composure, we quickly finished packing our things and took a trip all over Europe for four months. I must say, despite it all, we had a wonderful time. That trip was something we both needed very much. When we got back home, it was almost like nothing had ever happened. No one really tried very hard to find Granville. It’s sad, but I think most people were glad to see him gone.”
“But what was it you were telling me about that dark figure you saw in the hallway the night he died?” asked Ethan. “You skipped that part.”
“I have already told you about that. It happened later that same night. I can’t bear to tell it again. I’ll just say that not everyone goes to a happy place when they die. Some people are wrenched away screaming.
“So, if you really want to see it, to verify that everything I’ve told you is the truth, help me get these jars off of the shelves. We don’t want them falling everywhere when we push the shelf out of the way.”
Once they had removed the jars, placing them neatly onto a large oblong table, Ethan dragged the shelf out of the way, revealing a large whole in the wall. The cavernous room beyond the hole was dark, so he didn’t see anything at first, not until Clara lit a small lantern and handed it to him.
Imagining that he was discovering King Tut’s tomb, Ethan held the lantern before him and stepped carefully into the cool room that smelled of damp earth and ancient roots. He gasped when the lantern light illuminated what had been hidden for so ma
ny years: a mummified body dressed in a black velvet robe, trimmed in red satin at the collar and cuffs, lying on an oblong table. The table was against the dirt wall opposite the makeshift doorway, as though on display at a macabre funeral. Dry mummified skin still covered the man’s face, though shrinking had caused the lips to pull away from the teeth, creating a morbid toothy grin.
“It was I who insisted on dressing him in his robe and slippers,” said Clara, stepping into the death chamber. “I thought it would be undignified to have a half-dressed man under the house.” Ethan almost laughed at this in spite of, maybe because of, his nervousness. “It’s a shame that the red satin has turned such a dull color.”
Walking very carefully, Ethan examined the body more closely. He wanted to turn and run, run as fast as he could go, but morbid curiosity held him. He imagined the eyes of the thing opening and its dry withered hands grabbing him around the neck. And he thought of Miss Satterfield suddenly abandoning him in the cellar, locking the door behind her. But still he stayed and stared at the well-dressed mummy, dressed so appropriately for such a fine and respectable home. Staring mesmerized, he observed that everything had become suddenly quiet, like the silence Mittie must have experienced upon awakening inside her buried coffin.
“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” said Clara, startling Ethan from his trance, nearly causing him to drop the lantern. “As you can see from the evidence, everything I’ve told you is the truth. We should leave here now; I’ve nothing further to add.”
“I believed you from the start,” said Ethan. Clara said nothing, and he followed her slowly out of the damp room and up the stairs, glancing back a few times to make sure the mummy wasn’t following them, though he knew it wouldn’t, really.
“I’ll have to ask you to leave now,” said Clara, once the two had made their way to the kitchen. “I’m going to be making a phone call, and the police and a lot of other people, I’m sure, will be here soon. It doesn’t matter what happens to me anymore. I’m a lonely old woman who had dreams once, dreams of love and being loved, dreams of being the mistress of my own gracious home. I guess I did fulfill my girlhood dream of being a secretary, even if it was in name only.”
“I think you were a real secretary,” said Ethan, feeling an unexpected sympathy towards his former foe. He was beginning to understand a little as to why she was so strict and humorless. “I mean, you took care of all the bills and stuff.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” she said with a sigh. “It’s just that as a girl I had always pictured a secretary working in an office.”
“I’m sure most of them do,” said Ethan, “but I guess part of them work in homes.” He really wanted her to believe that she had been an actual secretary, realizing it was the only fulfilled dream she had to cling to.
He started to leave but turned around before opening the screen door. “Miss Satterfield,” he said, “if you decide not to call the police, I can pretend I never saw anything. I don’t think anyone will ask, anyway.”
“Thank you, but they’ll find it now. The house and furniture, including the shelves downstairs, will soon be auctioned away, so someone will find it. I’m weary of the secret, anyway.”
“Well, I hope everything turns out okay, that you don’t get into any trouble. I don’t blame you or Miss Green, either one, for what happened. He was just a bad man; that’s all.”
“I appreciate that,” said Clara. “I really do. You’re a kind boy. I know you may be surprised to hear me say it, but I think Zelma was lucky that you came into her life. It was almost like her long-lost son had returned home.”
Ethan’s eyes nearly watered at those words, but he swallowed and simply stated, “Thank you, Ma’am.”
Chapter 22
Just before mounting his bike, it occurred to Ethan to check on the bees. A little nervous, he followed the path to the beehives. He wondered what would happen to the bees with no one to look after them, to collect their honey, though he supposed bees could make do on their own. It would be a shame for their honey to go uncollected, though. After all, wasn’t honey one of bees’ many gifts to the world?
Another thought occurred to him: would the bees attack and sting him now in the absence of Miss Green? Could he charm the bees on his own? He decided not to get too risky, to keep a safe distance. He hoped to have his own bees soon and to be as comfortable with them as Miss Green had been, but for now he would have to be careful. Being stung to death would not be a fun way to die. In fact, he wasn’t thrilled about the idea of even one bee sting. He would definitely think about getting one of those bee suits before he got his hives going.
When he reached the clearing at the top of the small grove, he walked cautiously to the wooden hive boxes, listening intently for the whirling, buzzing sound of the bees, but all was silent. After careful inspection, he began to realize that the hives were empty; the bees had flown away to who knows where. “What a strange day this has been,” he said to himself.
He ran down the hill, grabbed his bike, and rode swiftly towards town, the wind to his back. He wanted to talk to Simon Green. Simon would have an explanation for the absence of the bees. He was relieved to find Simon sitting at his usual spot in front of Square Deal.
“You know,” said Simon, in response to the news that the bees had flown away, “it’s just like what happened to my first wife’s bees when she died, like I told you. Hadn’t a soul gone over there and told the bees that old Miss Green passed away. I should have but didn’t think about it until now.”
“So they flew away,” said Ethan.
“That’s exactly what happened. It’s a crazy world we live in, reminds me of something my dear mamma used to tell me years ago.”
“What’s that?”
“If the wonders of this life went to school, they’d master in art and literature and flunk arithmetic.”
“Wow,” said Ethan, “I’ll try to remember that one. I get what she was saying.”
“Mamma only made it to sixth grade, but she was smarter than a lot of idiots with a college degree. She was lucky to make it that far in school back in her day. It ain’t like it is now, where they lock your parents up if you miss a few days. Most people back then didn’t care a hoot if kids learned to read or write, especially if it was a poor black girl like my mamma.”
“She must have been really smart to come up with a saying like that,” said Ethan.
“Momma would be proud to know that someone appreciated it.”
They talked a little longer before Ethan rode his bike slowly towards home, mystified by all the events and wonders that had occurred that day.
As he pulled into his gravel driveway, he thought he was seeing a ghost: Daniel Foster was sitting on the front porch steps. “Please tell me I’m not hallucinating again,” he said, dropping his bike and walking cautiously up to the Daniel, as though afraid he would vanish if he made the wrong move. “What happened? I thought you would be long gone by now.”
“My dad never showed up. My mom’s tried to call him several times, but he wouldn’t answer the phone. Finally he called back and told her he couldn’t keep me. I guess neither one of them wants me.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re still here,” said Ethan, giving Daniel a quick bear hug and slapping him on the back a few times. “I was depressed when you left. You’re about my only friend around here besides old Mr. Green and Cynthia.”
“Yeah, I guess it isn’t cool that my dad don’t want me, but it is cool that I get to stay. I didn’t want to go with him anyway. Now we can be friends again.”
“Of course, we never stopped being friends.”
“I’m sure glad of that,” said Daniel.
“Me too.”
“I might stay here tonight if your mom don’t care. My mom’s having another one of her parties, and I think it’ll be better for me to stay out of the house. I get too worked up over it, I guess.”
“That’ll be great,” said Ethan. “I’m sure my mom won’t care.
She wants me to make friends. She’s trying to be on my good side now, anyway.”
“Great! This’ll be the first time I’ve stayed at your house. I’ve been sitting on the porch for over an hour waiting for you. I was nervous you wouldn’t come home today, like maybe you were out of town.”
“This is perfect,” said Ethan. “That Miss Green left me a bunch of money before she died. I’ll tell you more about that later. I’ve also got something to tell you about that you won’t believe. I wouldn’t believe it myself if I hadn’t saw it with my own eyes. I finally found out what’s down in that cellar. But first, I’ve been thinking up a huge surprise for Cynthia. It’s top secret. You can’t tell anybody about it, especially my mom. She’ll think I’m wasting my money and try to put a stop to it. This surprise is going to be big, and I need you to help me pull it off.”
“Now wait a minute,” said Daniel. “Did you say Miss Green left you a bunch of money? How much?”
“Two thousand dollars.”
Daniel put his hand over his heart and said, “Whoa, I’m about to faint. You should have told me to sit down before you told me that. You’re rich!”
“Yeah,” said Ethan, “I about had a stroke when I opened the envelope and saw it, still can’t believe it.”
“That’s just incredible,” said Daniel.
“It’s pretty amazing for sure. But I want to use a little of that money to surprise Cynthia.”
“I can think of a lot better uses for that money than spending it on a girl,” said Daniel.
“Well, normally I’d say the same thing, but Cynthia’s pretty alright, not like most girls.”
“Okay, I’m all in,” said Daniel. “This could be fun if the surprise is cool enough.”
A Million Doorways Page 23