by Callie Norse
Maggie sat, Indian style, on one end of the sofa, “What do you think, Dad? What should we do for my birthday? I’m going to be 7 you know!”
“Yes, I know. You are getting so grown up. What would you like to do on your birthday?”
“Could we invite Amy and Kaitlyn to go to Gerry Giraffe’s with us for pizza? You know I love those funny animals that sing. And the games, they are soooo fun!”
“Sure, honey, that sounds like fun to me. Would you like Marta to go, too?”
“Of course, Daddy. I like Marta. She is so much fun, like Mommy was. Can Toto come, too?”
“I’m afraid not, honey. Dogs aren’t allowed in restaurants, not even cute little puppies like Toto.”
“Not even if we keep him in his carrier?”
“No, honey. Not even if we keep him in the carrier. Imagine if everybody took his dog. They would all be barking at each other, running around jumping on the tables eating the pizza, and barking at the singing animals. It would be a wild mess and nobody would have any fun.”
“Okay, Daddy. That does sound kinda wild. We want a fun party, don’t we?”
She started to go toward the door. Greg asked, “Don’t you want to stay here and talk more?”
“No, Daddy, I need to get back to the sewing room. I want to talk to Mommy some more, and Johnny needs me.”
She skipped down the hall and turned into the sewing room. Greg was mystified. This wasn’t getting any better. He decided to call Amy and Kaitlyn’s parents to invite them to the party. Their moms accepted for them. Greg then decided to do some reading—this time in the sewing room. He sat in the overstuffed chair, reading one of the books he and Marta had checked out from the library, searching especially for anything about a red, sticky substance, flashes of light, crying babies, and crying portraits. At the same time he was watching and listening to Maggie.
Toto awoke and came wandering in. He again circled the wooden rocker barking at something, eventually settling down. Maggie picked him up and held him in her lap, as she read a book. She kept saying the name Johnny and talking in a more babyish talk. Once in awhile she would look up and appear to be talking to someone else, these times using her normal voice. It certainly had Greg puzzled. One thing he did suspect was that a new puppy was not going to cure this problem. The library book wasn’t giving him any answers either.
“Maggie, would you like some soup? It’s about supper time.”
“Sure, Daddy, have we got that good chicken noodle kind in a bag?”
“I believe we do. I’ll go make some.” He went into the kitchen and started heating the water, still puzzled as to who Maggie was talking to. When it was done, he turned to call to Maggie, to tell her it was ready to eat. As he turned his head, for just a second he thought he saw a figure in the hall. The figure appeared to be that of a woman. There was a golden ray around her. He was a bit shaken, and at the same time, he felt an air of comfort. “Could that have been Lisa?” Greg asked himself. Oh, how he longed for her, especially at this moment.
Just then, Maggie came bouncing into the kitchen, “Daddy, something is boiling over. Is that my soup?” Greg quickly grabbed the handle of the pan and pulled it from the burner. While Maggie ate her soup, Greg made himself a sandwich, although his appetite had diminished.
After their little lunch, they retired to the sewing room. Greg had planned to spend the evening in the parlor. He had heard enough of the craziness in the sewing room. He was now drawn back to the sewing room. He wasn’t sure what he saw in the hall. Maybe whatever or whoever it was would show up in the sewing room.
It was a long evening with no occurrences. Greg had hoped to see the glowing figure again. He needed to see if it was Lisa. There was no way he would forget what he saw—no way would he sleep tonight.
*****
Maggie awoke early the next morning, knowing it was her birthday. She was excited to finally turn 7, and to be getting presents. Greg had decided to give her the locket first thing after breakfast. She was too excited to eat.
“Daddy, when do I get my presents?”
“I thought we would wait until your party. How would that be?” he teased.
“I am too excited to wait that long. Can I have them now?” she begged.
“I was hoping we could wait until Marta gets here for one of them. She helped me pick it out.”
“Okay, Daddy, I will wait until later for one of them. Can I open one now, then?”
“Maggie, honey, I have one very special present from your mommy.”
“Mommy didn’t tell me she bought me a present!”
“I bought it for her, honey. I knew it was what she wanted you to have.” Greg handed her the small package.
Maggie anxiously tore off the tiny pink bow and ripped the wrapping paper off. She opened the small-hinged box to find the locket. “Oh, Daddy! This is so adorable!”
This broke Greg’s serious mood. Maggie was always surprising him with adult words. “Let me open it for you Maggie, honey.”
Maggie smiled through her tiny tears, as she saw the picture of her mommy. “This is so special, Daddy. I love Mommy so much.”
Greg told Maggie how Lisa had found it in one of the little shops and had planned to buy it for her for her birthday.
“Daddy, can you put it on me? I want to go show Mommy!”
Once Greg fastened the clasp around her neck, she flew off to the sewing room. He followed her. She stood in the middle of the room looking up, as if she was talking to someone.
“Mommy, Mommy…I love it. Thank you sooo much.” She then blew a kiss into the air.
Greg was now convinced it was time to get help for her. He would ask her pediatrician for a recommendation.
Early afternoon, as Marta drove into the drive, she noticed something strange. The sky had been clear until she reached the house. Then, the house became engulfed in a dark cloud. She had never seen anything like it. There was no rain. There was a streak of light similar to lightning. It seemed to travel from the house to behind the house, near where the garden had been.
Maggie was excited to see Marta, and the present she had in her hand. It didn’t take her long to talk Greg into letting her open the rest of the gifts. She was delighted with the Toto basket. “Oh, Daddy! It’s just like in the Wizard of Oz!” She immediately put Toto in the basket. Much to her disappointment, he popped right back out.
“Maybe if you put a treat in it, he will like it better and stay in it awhile. It’s new to him now. He will get used to it,” Greg tried to sound convincing.
“I should have known he would jump out. Toto jumped out of the basket in the movie!”
“Yes, he did, but he wanted to find his way back to Dorothy, didn’t he?” Greg asked.
“You’re right, Daddy. So…maybe he will learn to like this basket,” she smiled and tore into Marta’s gift. “Oh, how precious!” she exclaimed. Marta had made an outfit for her new Dorothy doll. It was designed to look just like the pinafore Dorothy wore in the Wizard of Oz, right down to the shiny, red shoes. Maggie put the new clothes on Dorothy and tapped the dolls feet together, just as Dorothy did in the movie when the Munchkins suggested this was her way home. Marta could tell how much Maggie liked her gift. She had made the clothes herself and found the shoes in a toy store.
Greg was smiling at Marta the entire time she was explaining how she had searched for just the right fabric to match the movie. Yes, in this way, too, she was like Lisa. Lisa would have done the same thing.
While Maggie played, Marta told Greg what she had seen, as she drove up. She took him outside to show him. The sky was clear. There were no clouds of any kind.
Maggie played with Dorothy and Toto until it was time for the party. She was getting a little frustrated with Toto, as even a treat didn’t keep him in the new basket. Greg suggested she wait until he was a bit sleepy and try it later.
Greg and Marta sat nearby and talked while Maggie played. Of course, they snuck in a hug and kiss or two while she
was absorbed in keeping Toto in the basket.
Greg hadn’t forgotten what Marta had seen. He himself knew there was something mysterious about the flash of light he had seen that day so many months ago. He felt increasingly uneasy about staying in this house. The house had to be haunted. Was he pressing his luck by staying in the house? After the holidays, he would call a realtor to sell the house. He would find something smaller for he and Maggie, although he knew Maggie would be disturbed over leaving the house. The sewing room had become such an obsession with her. She wouldn’t like leaving. Greg felt it would be best for her. Hopefully, her invisible friends would be lost in the move.
The pizza party was a fun time. The girls chattered and giggled all the way to Gerry Giraffe’s. Greg was amazed at how much noise three little girls could make. They were tickled over the little zoo animals playing banjos, ukuleles, and singing on stage.
When they got home, Toto wasn’t himself at all. He had chewed the matt in his carrier until there was nothing left except puffs of cotton and shreds of fabric. When Maggie opened the carrier, he shot out, totally ignoring her. Greg saw a streak of light disappear through the kitchen door. Toto seemed to be chasing after it. When it disappeared at the servants’ entrance, Toto stood in front of the door and barked until he wore himself out and wobbled to his bed, where he fell asleep. Greg would call the realtor in the morning. He was now totally convinced they must leave.
Ten
Marta arrived soon after breakfast. She and Greg had decided to search through the contents of the box they had brought down from the mansard. Maggie was upstairs introducing Dorothy to her many dollies. Of course, Dorothy was the favorite for now. Toto was already asleep in the kitchen. He was worn out from his early morning stay in the basket training.
Greg met Marta at the door. “Hi, doll.” He was all smiles. He put his arms around Marta and kissed her like they had been separated for months. She could sense his love for her was growing deeper. As they stood locked in each other’s arms, Marta thought how wonderful it was that Lisa’s plan was working. Greg was actually falling in love with her, something she never thought would happen after all these years of loving him; although she now realized she never really knew what love was before. How could she, as she had never been in his arms before and never felt his love in return? She thought about what makes true love so special—loving and being loved in return. Greg was the most thoughtful, loving, sensitive, and passionate guy she had ever known. To have him now made her the luckiest gal in the world.
Greg finally broke the embrace, “I guess if we are going to get to the bottom of these mysteries, we better get started on this box.” He had it sitting on the kitchen table where they could go through it easier. Greg poured each of them a cup of coffee. “Want a bagel?”
“No, hon, I ate at home. Thanks for asking, though.”
Greg sat down beside Marta, and they began to look through the box. He was thinking how he would rather be making love to her. He knew he must set those thoughts aside until later.
There were many old newspaper clippings, old letters, papers, and a booklet of some kind. Marta picked up the booklet and leafed through it. “Greg, sweetie, this looks like an old journal. It has the name Agatha Brown written in the front and many dated entries. They aren’t daily entries, rather sporadic dates, but in chronological order.”
“Why don’t you read through that, while I look at some of these newspaper clippings? We might stumble across something here,” Greg seemed to be settling into the search.
They were quiet for sometime, each reading. Then, Greg looked up, “Remember our Isadora? This clipping tells of her death. She apparently died of tuberculosis at the young age of 20. Her last name was Stephens. Isn’t that the name written in the bible we found?”
“Yes, I think so, sweetie,” Marta answered.
“So, this backs up what we found earlier, only we had no idea she lived such a short life.”
“Maybe that is why she cries in the portrait. Can spirits make a portrait cry?” Marta questioned.
“Well, something sure made our Isadora portrait cry. What else could have done it, other than a spirit? I think our Isadora must be here in the house with us.” Greg felt like they were finally getting somewhere.
“That’s a scary thought. At least if she is here, she must be a good spirit. She was such a young lady, and she hasn’t done anything to hurt us.” Marta wanted to believe she was harmless.
Greg thought for a minute. “You don’t suppose she was the one who raped me, do you?”
“Greg, how could she have raped you? She is a spirit. They only have spirit bodies, not actual flesh.” Marta was trying to convince herself it was not possible.
“That’s what I always thought. All I know is something, or somebody raped me that night. I didn’t dream it. I woke up feeling the skin on my penis moving. I actually saw it moving!” he certainly hadn’t forgotten that night.
“That is so weird, Greg. I guess I will have to take your word for it, since I wasn’t there.”
Marta began to read silently. She soon found something, “It looks like Agatha was a servant for the Stephens. She was one of the cooks.”
“Keep reading, she might tell us something about the house.” Greg leafed through more newspaper clippings, setting the one of Isadora’s death aside.
Marta continued reading, until she found something else to share with Greg. “Agatha courted the chauffer, who lived above the stable. He was the last male servant. There had been two others, who had been let go, as they were no longer needed.”
“Very interesting. Keep reading.” Greg prompted. Soon, he looked as if he found something else interesting, “Marta, sweetie, didn’t Maggie tell us Johnny was in the sewing room with her?”
“Yes, that is what she said,” Marta answered.
Greg looked up from the article he was reading. “Then, this is very interesting. This article tells of an 8 month old baby, by the name of Johnny Brown, who died when he fell down the mansard stairs.”
Marta was astonished, “Oh, my gosh! You don’t suppose Maggie has been talking to this baby’s spirit all this time?”
“Yeah, really mind boggling, isn’t it!”
“Did you say his last name was Brown? That is Agatha’s last name!” Marta exclaimed.
“Read fast, I think we may have something here. Remember, there is that bed upstairs, the right size for a baby. Wow!” Greg could hardly believe what they were finding.
They were again quiet, only the rustling of paper could be heard, until Marta let out a scream. “Here it is Greg! Agatha became pregnant by John the chauffer.”
“And…” Greg coaxed Marta, anxious to hear more.
“I’m reading, I’m reading! John…Johnny that makes sense. Oh yes, here she says if it is a girl she will name her Mary, and if it is a boy, she will call him Johnny.” Marta was excited to have found this.
“Well, what is he doing here with my Maggie?” Greg stopped reading, waiting for Marta to find some more answers.
“Yes, here it is. Agatha gave birth to a boy, upstairs in the mansard. One of the other female servants was with her. She stuck a rag in Agatha’s mouth, so she couldn’t be heard by anyone downstairs while she was laboring. How terrible,” this disturbed Marta.
Greg couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “That poor girl. Giving birth is difficult enough, without having a rag stuffed in your mouth!”
“Yes, imagine that! She tells of how the other servants watched Johnny for her while she worked her shift. Oh, my gosh!” Marta could hardly believe what she had read.
“What?” Greg asked.
“Thirty minutes after Johnny was born, Agatha went downstairs and cooked supper for the Stephens’ family!”
“How awful for her!” Greg continued to leaf through newspaper clippings while Marta read on.
“There were three other female servants, one other cook and two who cleaned for them. Their names were Althea, Bernice,
and Lucinda.” She continued to read aloud. “Here it is. She tells of Johnny’s death after falling down the mansard steps. She is grieving terribly. So, now we know that it was the same Johnny.”
Greg appeared to be very interested in one of the clippings, “Listen to this, Mart. Agatha Brown was murdered, stabbed to death by John Winchell!”
“How horrible!” Marta was astounded, by what they were finding.
“Yes, isn’t it though?” Greg continued, “It says here that it happened in the servants’ hallway late one night. She had been working late that night baking pies. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a knife while they argued. She tried to escape from him, when he grabbed her in the back hall and stabbed her repeatedly in his furor. Bernice had been in the pantry and heard them arguing. He was furious that she hadn’t watched Johnny better. He accused her of being a bad mother for letting him crawl so close to the stairs, which led to his death. Bernice was frightened for her life when he grabbed the knife. After they left the kitchen, she went to get help from the Stephens. When help came, it was too late. Agatha lay in the hallway in a pool of blood.”
“Wow!—This house has quite the history! What a horrible thing to happen!” Marta paused to think for a moment, “Greg, honey, isn’t that where you found the red stuff one time?”
“You’re right! You don’t suppose there is a connection here?” Greg wondered.
“What else could it be? Somehow it must be connected. How blood can reappear after all these years, is beyond me!” Marta paused to think again, “Johnny died on the mansard stairs—also where we found the red substance. Yes, there must be a connection with these deaths!”
“Finally, we are putting some of the pieces of the mysteries together!” Greg excitedly continued to read newspaper articles, and Marta anxiously continued on with the journal.
“Listen to this.” She read aloud from Agatha’s journal. “John is angry with me for Johnny’s death. He blames me for not watching him closely enough. He doesn’t realize how quick Johnny was. Johnny could be happily sitting, playing with toys, and the next minute he would have left the toys and be off in another part of the room. I tried to block him off in a corner with furniture. He would crawl through it. I tried hard to keep him safe. It hurts badly enough to have lost Johnny, without John blaming me. He says such hateful things!”