by Rose Titus
“What? My uncle wasn’t murdered by someone like them,” there was rage in her voice now. “He was murdered by someone like you!”
“But he gave himself to—” he couldn’t finish. “I thought that it was happening to you, too.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll tell you later, dear.” Sophie put a hand on her shoulder.
“Is there something else I don’t know about my uncle?”
“Mr. Michelson,” Sophie began. “Ben was a grown man, able to make his own decisions about who he loved. Your grandfather came to this town because he was against mixing races. He killed a man and his wife and their unborn child. And he killed Ben when he got in the way. And he would have killed me as well if he knew where to find me then. And thank God for justice because he got what he deserved. And we want to know why you’ve come, because all we want is to just live. Is that too much to ask?”
Darren was silent. The wind howled outside, and Muriel felt the draft from the broken door.
“I...I didn’t know,” he started again. “I thought the Professor had been under some sort of influence. And when the lights went out, I was worried and...”
They talked on through the night. Darren’s pants seemed to dry up but the smell still lingered in the room. Muriel hoped the draft from the broken door would air the house out. She went to get her heavy sweater to keep warm, then brewed herself and Darren coffee. She was relieved that he finally seemed to calm down somewhat. Around midnight, Seymour went to the cheap motel where Darren had been staying to pick up his duffel bag with his spare set of clothes.
She heard Elton say it can take a person anywhere from a few minutes to a few years to stop being afraid when they first find out. The difference, he believed, was not just knowing that vampires were not really out to randomly kill people, but in realizing that they were just people like everyone else. People who needed to keep a secret. People whose very lives could be in danger if anyone found out.
Finally toward dawn he agreed not to say a word to anyone and to leave the sixth notebook with them. He promised once again to pay for repairing the front door, and Muriel promised to not press charges. Before he finally left, she found a plastic trash bag for his pants. He used her downstairs bathroom to clean up and change.
Two weeks later Josie and Muriel went to visit Annasophia again. Muriel brought with her all six notebooks. When they arrived they saw she had been repairing the old sable coat by hand, putting in a new silk lining, and also making a dress to sell in her shop. The fire was blazing, keeping the room warm.
Muriel also brought with her a letter that arrived in the mail along with a check covering the damages. She read it out loud. In it, Darren expressed his apologies to everyone, especially Muriel.
Sophie sat and laughed quietly as she listened.
“Why don’t we just burn them, Sophie?” Muriel said. “Just get rid of them all?”
“No! Don’t. I couldn’t let you do that. After all that work Ben did with us. It would be wrong. So very wrong. Don’t. No. I have a better idea, which is why I’ve called you to come over. It’s not to sit and watch me stitch, girls. Stay there,” she got up to leave the room. “And don’t do anything to those books.”
She came back with a steel box with a combination lock. “I bought this last week. It’s time to put them all away somewhere really safe.” She opened it, and Muriel put the books in. The lid was locked tight.
“Just one thing I don’t understand, Sophie,” Josie asked, “is why you left them at the Professor’s house that night? Why didn’t you take them home with you and hide them somewhere better?”
“Well, this is where it gets complicated. Back then, people knew Ben and I were seeing each other. Ben was killed at the home of Elton’s parents, you may recall. He met Darren’s grandfather there, and he tried to prevent the tragedy, but he was too late to help. I raised Elton after his parents were killed. That house was sold, and the money was put into trust for Elton. He bought another house, where he still is now.
“As soon as I found out, I went into a terrible state of disbelief. Seymour came to me and told me the night after your granduncle was killed. I went cold, and refused to believe, until he showed me the paper. He tore the story out, and handed it to me. ‘Look, see, I told you.’ I ran through the fields to Ben’s house. Back then, people didn’t always lock their doors, especially in small towns. I went in, called out for him, shouted out his name in hysteria. I just didn’t want to believe it. I heard a car come, and looked out the window. It was the police, probably coming to search the place. I grabbed the notes off his desk, and they were coming through the front door, which I had left open. I ran into the basement to hide, and quickly shoved the notebooks into the place where you would find them so many years later. And I believe you were meant to find them. His spirit guided you, perhaps. It’s how I know he somehow lives on. I was in a panic that night. I didn’t want to be caught with them. I knew the police might probably come to my house later to find his research, which that murdering bastard continued to rave on about before they finally pulled the switch. I ran out the door that leads out of the basement, and went back home through the woods so I wouldn’t be seen. To this day, I don’t believe the police knew I had been in the house. I really did want to go back to get them, but somehow I couldn’t. Too many memories, too much sadness. And so much guilt over his death. I still wonder if it was my fault.
“You see, his trusted colleague not only found out about the research when Ben foolishly went to him to discuss it, and found out about Elton’s parents, a mixed marriage as you know—but Ben had been bringing me to social functions at the University. He figured out about us. I was a foreign woman, from a small town, but had much jewelry from the old country, and I could make dresses more beautiful than those worn by Hollywood stars. I felt I could fit in with his sophisticated friends. He did not tell anyone our secret, except that we were planning to marry. That was no secret. Yes, Muriel, dear child, we were planning to have a life together. I didn’t intend for it to be that way when I first met him. But as time went on, somehow, it just happened.
“We fell in love. He looked older than me, but I was actually older than he was. It didn’t matter. But how did the secret get out then? I’ll tell you. And that was my fault. We were driving around in his car one night, just driving for no reason, as people did then. Gas was cheap, and cars were big and comfortable. People just drove for enjoyment. We stopped by the lake to watch the moon in the sky. It was a beautiful night. The lake was all silver, the sky was black velvet. Yes, something happened, Muriel. The next morning he went back to the University, harmless little scar on his neck. It was not long after that when the trouble started.” She looked away, not able to face them. “I never told the others where I put them. Seymour wanted to burn all his papers, or toss them in the lake. I just couldn’t. The notes were all that was left of Ben. I thought of going back into the old house to get them. But I just somehow couldn’t even look at them ever again. Until you found them.”
Annasophia and Ben in 1936
“We fell in love. He looked older than me, but I was actually older than he was. It didn’t matter.”
“I never knew that about my uncle. If things had been different, we would have been sort of related, Sophie.”
“It was terrible for all of us. We had all left the old country a century earlier after a terrible massacre. Ten of us butchered in our homes while we slept. We came to America to find peace. See?” and she held out her delicate white hand. “He gave me this. I never took it off.” A ruby surrounded by diamonds. Muriel had always admired the ring, but never asked about it. “I am still to this day broken-hearted,” Sophie went on. “In all the time I’ve lived, Ben was the only man I’ve ever really loved.” A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away.
“You so much remind me of him. If ever we had a daughter, she’d be like you.” She handed Muriel the steel box. “Someday, maybe the world will be ready to see t
hem, and then to know the truth. But for now, hide them well.”
Illustration Credits
Frontispiece: Victorian House. Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/178244097726845617/
Attribution: https://thegraphicsfairy.com/terms-copyright/
Old Books. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Old_books.jpg
Attribution: By William Hoiles from Basking Ridge, NJ, USA (Old books) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Old kitchen. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:SLNSW_10965_Kitchen_in_a_house_built_by_Mr_Park_builder_of_Roseville.jpg
Attribution: Sam Hood [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Krolock. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Krolock.jpg
Attribution: GNU Free Documentation License in the above link
Danserindens Kærlighedsdrøm. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Danserindens_kaerlighedsdroem_001.jpg
Attribution: By Nordisk Film [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Beauty in darkness. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Beauty_in_Darkness.jpg
Attribution: By Latinabrat (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Czechoslovakian ancestors, used by permission from Kelly Novak