by Lynn Ricci
“But Zoe doesn’t look any older than me. How could she possibly be Selena?” He looked at Sarah and could tell she was having trouble believing all he was throwing at her. He had to make sure she understood how dangerous Selena, or Zoe, could be.
“My guess is she feeds off the life force of men and that keeps her young. Does Zoe always have men around her?”
Sarah thought about it briefly but reluctantly admitted that Zoe had no shortage of men, mentioning the man she picked up at the restaurant recently. Sarah dropped her head into her hands, shaking it back and forth in denial.
“Mason, I had a hard time at first believing you could be 150 years old but you seemed to believe it so adamantly and told such a detailed account that I came to believe it. Now you are throwing reincarnation at me that I am having trouble wrapping my head around that whole concept but can’t deny I am having certain memories. Plus, thinking about it, I felt like as you were telling me the story about your time at the fire station and the O’Malley’s I almost knew the story. Like I had heard it a long time ago but couldn’t remember any further than what you were saying at the time. But now, a witch who is part . . . what did you call it?”
“Succubus.”
“Okay, so a part witch, part succubus creature . . . this is getting harder to believe. Are you going to tell me she had a vampire as a boyfriend and pet werewolf?” Sarah teased out of nerves, as she tugged on her earlobe. He watched and thought of how often he would see Catherine do the same when she was nervous or anxious.
“I know we are taught not to believe in things like this, Sarah, but truthfully, there are witches in the world and they don’t all run around in black capes and pointed black hats. It’s a way of life and religion and most are not bad. But it’s the bad ones that people think of when they hear witch and they have conjured up certain Halloween notions about them.
Selena was believed to be an evil witch and because of what Mrs. Burke had seen, holding Mr. Todd’s wrist and how he seemed drained and far away afterward, they thought of a succubus. She wasn’t as strong as a true succubus who can drain a man dry of his life force to death and that is why they didn’t believe she was entirely one or the other. I wasn’t sure I believed all this, I wasn’t a believer of the supernatural but it was obvious that Selena grew stronger and more beautiful as time went on. It was scary. Until Mrs. Todd arrived and then Selena didn’t have clear access anymore to Mr. Todd and went on the prowl for unsuspecting men to prey on.
After the Todd’s arrived, the house became more of a home. Mrs. Burke was busy cooking and baking all day to keep up with the family meals, the constant stream of guests and the dinner parties. And Anna, who also lived at the house, kept the main part of the house in tip top shape for greeting all these visitors. It was a hectic house and we didn’t pay as much attention to what Selena was up to . . . that had been a mistake.
My attention had been on Catherine since that first day she arrived in Boston. I had eyes for no one else and it was obvious to everyone. My job as groom allowed me to speak with her about the horses, but given my station, I was respectful and kept a distance.
About a month or so after they arrived, Penny came out to the stable one day. She wanted to brush down Buttercup, her light colored, dappled Cob. I got her set up and returned to changing the hay. Penny started talking about England and some of the things they missed at their country home including Catherine’s beloved rose garden.
“We had the loveliest rose garden, full of every color imaginable. Mum had stone benches where she would sit and reflect and Catherine would set up her easel and paint the fish pond or the flowers.”
“Your sister is an artist?”
“She is quite good actually. I can’t paint, although Catherine tried to show me how. But I play the flute and Catherine can’t do that. Mum says everyone has a talent for something.”
“Tis true, lass. Like me with the horses.”
Penny laughed and added, “And Mrs. Burke for the best blueberry bread ever.”
I busied myself with the hay for a few minutes but thought this was as good of an opportunity as any to ask, “So, what else might your sister like?”
“A lot of things. We both like to needlepoint and she likes horses and riding like I do. But what she really loves are roses. The smell of roses makes her happy. She asked mum about having a rose garden here but we had someone at home that took care of all that and no one here.”
“Roses. Hmmm, and what might be her favorite color rose, do you know?”
“Pink. All the pink ones. But my favorites are the orange ones. Or the ones with orange and red, or orange and yellow, or . . .”
Already I wasn’t listening to dear little Penny, but was instead trying to figure out how I could get a rose bush. I knew Delia would want to help.
That weekend I went to the O’Malley's for Sunday dinner, as I sometimes still did. O’Malley still stopped down the station house a few times a week; hard to stay away I guess. He would update me on the men and the work and how much everyone loved that pole.
That weekend I asked about rose bushes – how to plant and take care of them. I told them I wanted to plant a few on the Todd property. Delia smiled at me and without me saying a word she knew it was for a girl. O’Malley missed the reason but jumped right in to help. Looking for something to keep himself busy, he said he knew a horticulturist for the city of Boston that took care of all the flowers and bushes at the Public Garden. He would go see him Monday morning for me.
True to his word, O’Malley came by the stable later on Monday and told me everything he learned about rose bushes and my plan was underway. The side of the house, under the parlor windows where Catherine liked to do her needlepoint, would be a perfect place. I took a chance and purchased three bushes – two pink and one orange, with my own wages – and then approached Mr. Todd after supper. Being he was the only one in the house who didn’t know I was interested in his daughter, he seemed a little perplexed with why I would want to spend my own money on flowers for his yard, but he gave me the approval I needed.
Early the next morning while it was still dark I started digging. I got three big holes ready and planted the bushes I had stored in the stable overnight. When the sun came up and the household awoke, the roses were in the ground, several pink buds already starting to bloom.
Catherine was thrilled when she saw them and came to find me working in the stable.
“Mr. Murphy!” She called from the doorway, wearing a tea gown. I knew she was only here to see me then and not to take a carriage out shopping since women only wore their tea dresses at home.
“Aye, Miss Todd. How are you?” I answered tentatively, taking off my cap and swiping it to get the dust off and then wiping my hands on my pants.
“I just saw the roses up at the house. They are truly lovely and it was a nice surprise to find. I have so missed our rose garden at home.”
Relaxing a little, knowing she was happy with the gesture, I smiled. “That is what Miss Penny said. I just wanted to help you feel at home here in America.”
She looked around the stable and then walked over to her horse, a gray dappled Cob named Raindrop.
“How is she doing?”
“She is a sturdy one, she is. No fear, Miss, she held on to the pregnancy just fine on the ship.”
She stroked the horses nose and got a snort and whinny in return. “Is she up for a ride today?”
“I should think so.”
Catherine nodded and then gave me a flirtatious smile in return. “Brilliant. Well then, Mr. Murphy, let’s get ready to take the horses for a ride.” And she returned to the house, holding the long skirt up ever so slightly over the dirty yard as she went.
That was the first of many rides I took with the Todd women. The Mrs. and the two daughters; as their guide, groom and guard all in one. Sometimes Mr. Todd would join us on the weekend with a picnic lunch packed. We would ride out into the still wooded areas that are now all built up. We ro
de down to the Charles River and over to Wards Pond and Jamaica Pond just past there. Some areas in the Fenway section of Boston that had just been cleaned up and converted by Frederick Law Olmstead who would eventually over the next decade form a seven mile stretch of parks from Boston Common out to Franklin Park called the Emerald Necklace. But back then it was all groves and meadows, water ways and kettle ponds. Catherine loved the meadows and all the wildflowers. Sheep grazed and people would take canoes up the river. There were wonderful areas in Boston back then and we explored them all that summer.
When we were not out on the horses, life trudged by slowly. I was always on the lookout to see Catherine, and when I did it made my day. Early in the morning I would bring Mrs. Burke fresh cut roses for the breakfast table so even if I didn’t see her that day I could make her smile.
One day, my friend Joseph the Farrier came to see me about the cobs. I needed new shoes for Raindrop as she was almost full term with the pregnancy and getting heavier.
Seeing a new man in the yard, Selena swooped right in. I don’t even know where she came from, but all of a sudden she was walking through the yard with Penny and a pile of books that she promptly dropped in front of Joe. Joe quickly dropped down to help her retrieve the books and I saw her take his wrist and hold it while she thanked him. Joseph turned pale and seemed disorientated afterwards and had to leave, promising to be back the next day.
He came back, and so did Selena. Again she caught him out front after we had finished up with Raindrop and again I saw her run her fingers over the vein in his wrist. It’s the same thing Mrs. Burke said she saw Selena do to Mr. Todd, although we suspected there was more intimacy with Mr. Todd then what was happening out here in the yard outside the stable.
By the end of the summer, with Catherine waiting to start art classes at the Museum of Fine Arts School, the mare was showing signs that the birth would be soon. Raindrop was restless and had stopped eating; only taking water. She had dropped and a wax build up had formed on her udders and rear legs. Horses tend to want to deliver over night or early morning hours when their surroundings seem most quiet and safe so I was spending my evenings staying in the stable, in case she needed help.
It was a miraculous morning when the foal was born. Mrs. Burke was just arriving as I came out of the stable, full of smiles and filthy as heck. The sun was rising quickly and birds filled the air. I came inside to hastily clean up and tell the family.
The whole clan came down to the stable straight away and witnessed the miracle of nature, a small foal already standing. After a while, I knew I needed some rest after being up all night, and the family went about their business. I returned to my room and found Selena waiting for me.
Just having a woman in your room, at that time, was the height of impropriety. I didn’t know why she entered but I was afraid to step foot through my doorway. Although we both had rooms on this lower level, I never saw her and although I would not repeat this to anyone less start an unkind rumor, there were many nights I believed she was not home.
She sat on my bed, not the chair, and was holding my fathers’ pocket watch – the only thing I had left from him. She turned it over in her hand and smiled at me, the ends of that full lipped mouth curling and making me think it was meant to be more intimidating than friendly. I shivered and my knees felt week. I could smell agarwood and realized she had been burning it in my room. Waiting.
“What do you want, Selena?” I asked hearing my own voice tremble.
“I thought a little celebration was in order – bringing a new life into the world like you did this morning.”
“Celebration?”
“Yes, you and me. I thought we could get to know each other a little better. We never spend any time together except when the staff all eats supper together in the kitchen.”
“I’m actually quite tired Selena and I was thinking of getting some rest. It’s been a long night.” I felt myself leaning on one foot then the other, nervous that one of the Todd's would see her here and fire me on the spot. Or that Catherine would see her and jump to some dreadful conclusion.
Selena patted the bed and I could tell she crossed her legs, even with all those layers of material. Proper ladies always crossed their legs at the ankle and this action, in my room, sitting on my bed had me befuddled. I shook my head no and stood my ground in the doorway.
Mr. Todd was the one that saved me. I heard the door open at the top of the stairs and his footsteps. I stepped back and started to close my door to keep her out of sight as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He was fully dressed for work, and out of habit, he checked his watch and dropped it back into his waistcoat pocket.
“Aiden, there you are, I caught you.”
“Caught me, sir?”
“Yes, I need to make a stop before I get to the office and with all the kerfuffle this morning I am running late. Can you hook up a horse? I will need to take a carriage.”
“Yes, sir.” I closed the door all the way, knowing she heard I was leaving and glad to have an excuse.
That incident followed me in the days and weeks ahead, always fearful I would find her in my room. I could smell the agarwood sometimes at night and felt she was doing it purposefully to keep be in this anxious state.
Selena would join Mrs. Burke and me sometimes for supper but most times she took her dinner to her room. There were early mornings before daybreak, at the first sound of the early songbirds, that I would hear the door to the yard close softly outside my room. I would wonder how a woman could stay out all night and with whom? I was just happy she was leaving me alone.
During that time, Catherine and I grew very friendly. She had started college at the Museum of Fine Arts School in Copley Square. It was a rather new art school at the time and Catherine was thrilled learning the latest techniques. Boston was a wonderful art center at that time, many artists living and working here, founding great schools and museums, and many fine patrons of the arts. That winter was when she created this painting.” Mason pointed up to the snow scene of their brownstone on the brick wall and Sarah looked up as well.
“Mason, the morning you left this painting for me was very strange. I brought it in and set it by the windows to get a good look and then lost all track of time. I was so captivated by the painting, looking at each brush stroke, color choices, shapes and illusions that I sat here on the floor for over an hour.”
“Maybe you were remembering it? It was the last painting you – sorry, I mean Catherine painted.”
“Do you really think Catherine was reincarnated and I am her? Wouldn’t I have other memories? Of even living here?”
Mason took a moment to think about her comment before he answered. “I think I suspected you were Catherine all along. You are you, and unique, but there are certain things about you that were unique to Catherine, too. Like pulling on your earlobe when you get nervous, she did that too, and that is a certain idiosyncrasy that would be hard to overlook as coincidental. You are similar in features, but that could be explained by family.”
“Family! That’s it. There is no proof this is the same family we are talking about. And that’s something we can research quickly.” Sarah reached for the laptop where she had left it on the coffee table and booted it up quickly.
“Sarah, you don’t need to do that . . .”
“It’s easy, you type the word ancestry into this search field and you get some major family databases that you can check and cross reference. This is what I planned to do at the National Archives Thursday when I came back from Connecticut for a work project.”
The website opened as Mason offered the answer. “Sarah, I believe if I remember correctly, Rose would be your grandmother.”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open a little that he would know that. Mason continued, “Rose’s middle name is Catherine. She left Boston in the late 1940’s, but before she did, she and her mother Mary Rose came to stay with us here. They stayed in the Baldwin's apartment. I only had a slight disfigurement
then since I was surrounded by people who cared about me but was already ugly to most people. Over time the more that pitied me, the worse I became with new ailments popping up.
At the time, Catherine Todd’s younger sister Penny was still alive but her husband had long since died. Penny lived here and her daughter Cate did as well, right here in this apartment. Cate’s full name was Catherine Rose. Penny was getting on in years that summer and didn’t leave her bed. She lived in 1A and I took care of her until she passed. Cate was Mary Rose’s mother which made her Rose’s grandmother.
It’s confusing with all the names, but when Penny was with child she had decided to call her baby Catherine and chose Rose as the middle name to signify her sister’s love of roses. She encouraged Cate to keep one of the names when she had her first daughter, and so on. Your grandmother Rose broke the pattern but it wasn’t intentional. I don’t think she realized and was too far removed from a great aunt she never met to feel it necessary.”
Sarah was dumfounded. “How could you know all that about my family?”
“I know all that about Catherine’s family.”
“Oh my God.” Sarah’s eyes widened with the realization that there could be no mistake now. “So this is the brownstone my grandmother spoke about at Thanksgiving dinner, and you actually knew her. And I painted that painting in another life,” Sarah said pointing up to the painting on the wall. “And you’ve suspected this the whole time?”
“Sarah, I suspected but didn’t know. And how could I tell you? One look at me and my twisted, ugly body, telling a girl like you that I knew your great, great grandmother and guess what? She lived right here, and you lived here too in a previous life . . .”
“I would have run so fast.” Sarah interjected and laughed nervously. “Okay, I guess you have a point.” Sarah watched Mason and by her expression he could tell she knew there was something bothering him. Turning serious, Sarah gently asked for what she had been waiting hear, “Mason, what happened? What happened all those years ago that caused you so much pain and turmoil? And, how could it have affected you physically? Or extended your life like this?”