by Joy Elbel
The Cougar went on. “Joshua fell in love with the North while living there and convinced Charlotte to follow him to Pennsylvania to a small town called Syphrit. He knew how much she loved Southern life, though, so he built Rosewood to resemble the home she grew up in. They threw lavish parties and were the most beloved couple in town. Charlotte became pregnant and they were ready to live happily ever after. But when they least expected it, tragedy struck. Charlotte gave birth to a daughter, Scarlet, but died of complications just moments after naming her. Joshua was heartbroken and never remarried. The fact that he wasn’t able to save his wife’s life haunted him for the rest of his. He remained here with his daughter until his death, devoting the whole of his life to her and to the town he renamed after his beloved wife. Scarlet never married either and cared for her father in his final years. After her death, the house was purchased by the Wakefields who have owned it ever since.
Even though over a hundred years separated us, I had so much in common with Scarlet. My mother died when I was four years old. She died the same way too—giving birth to Miranda, the sister I would never know. Hell, I didn’t even remember my mother. My first memories were of my father telling me she had died. It was hard being a girl growing up with only a father. There were some things I just couldn’t talk to my dad about. And it didn’t help to have people tell me how much I looked like my mom either. It didn’t seem fair that they got to know her but that I never would. Our lives were very similar but Scarlet had one luxury I did not—her father was devoted enough to never remarry.
I became fascinated with everything about the house and its décor. Roses. Everywhere I looked. Floors made of rosewood, rose carvings on the banisters, even the door knobs were brass likenesses of them. It was fascinating yet creepy in a way. I had to know what would make someone go to such great lengths in decorating. So I spoke up for the first time since meeting The Cougar.
“I’ve noticed there are roses everywhere. Do you know the significance of that?” The Cougar appeared to be startled by my question. She must have been trying so hard to imagine herself alone with my father that she almost started to believe it was true.
She recovered quickly and replied, “Roses were Charlotte’s favorite flower. Joshua built the conservatory so that she could enjoy them all year long. He even angled the home so they would receive the benefit of the morning sunlight. And when she died, he chose to give their daughter that name as well, Scarlet Rose. She loved roses the same as her mother and Joshua had a new species grown in her honor. He called them the Heart of Scarlet Rose and they still grow here, circling the fountain out front. The Wakefields entered them in many horticultural contests and took first prize nearly every time.”
Shelly was moved by this story, almost to tears it appeared. But that was nothing new. I swear she cried at everything—movies, books, even the occasional television commercial. And she had no problem unleashing the torrent in front of friends or strangers. Just one more way that Shelly and I were complete opposites. Unlike her, I knew true sadness.
“What a sad story!” she said, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “Dr. Baker sounds like such a sweet man. And naming the town after her…now that’s romantic!”
For once, I had to agree with her. Shelly was somewhat of an expert in romance, at least according to some of her readers. Before the Cinnamon Jones Mystery Series, she wrote trashy romance novels under the pen name Savannah Mahan. Dad told me I couldn’t read any of those books until I was eighteen. Like I wanted to read any of her stupid books anyway. She must have made a lot of money writing that smut, though—how else could we have afforded such an amazing house?
Dad kissed a still teary eyed Shelly on the cheek and I caught a fleeting look of disgust on The Cougar’s face. I agreed with that, too. No one needs to see parental displays of affection. Ever. And I decided long ago that my breaking point would be the day I heard—or OMG, even worse, saw!—them having sex. If that day ever came, I would do something drastic. I didn’t know what yet, but you could bet it would be drastic.
Now that The Cougar could see that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with my dad, the tour seemed to pick up speed. We visited the kitchen and formal dining room downstairs and then ascended to the second floor. Hanging above the spacious landing were two old paintings that we were told were the only known portraits of Charlotte and Scarlet Baker. Oddly enough, they looked nothing alike. Charlotte’s face was very angular and chiseled to supermodel perfection—aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and perfectly pouty lips. She could have walked the runway in Paris or Milan with the best of them. Scarlet, on the other hand, was far less stunning but still pretty in a quiet, unpretentious sort of way. Her hair was as curly as mine would be if I didn’t straighten daily and was tied up with a simple red bow. She felt like a kindred spirit. Why did she never find true love? At least I could say I found it and I would hold its memory in my heart forever.
The upstairs was just as elaborate as the ground floor. All of the floors were done in the same glossy rosewood. The walls throughout were similar—the bottom half paneled and the top half done in the most opulent wall paper imaginable. But just when I thought I’d seen it all, we came to the ballroom. That’s right, the ballroom. Mirrors lined the walls on two sides and I instantly imagined myself twirling around in a fancy gown, dancing on a warm summer night, and watching my reflection as I swirled to the music. Three crystal chandeliers draped gracefully down from the sculpted ceiling casting their glow onto the mirrors and sparkling infinitely within. Romance practically oozed out of every crack and crevice I’d seen so far and it made me…sad. How was I ever going to get used to the fact that I was alone, especially living in a place like this? I knew it was possible, though, because Scarlet did it and Joshua, too. Somehow, so would I. Somehow.
I wandered to the far side of the room where I found a circular staircase and followed its spiral downward into the conservatory. Enclosed in glass and surrounded by roses of the deepest shade of red I’d ever seen, I felt like I was in a dream. Nothing real could ever possibly be this exquisite, this vibrant! In the center of the room, a marble statue of an angel stood with outstretched wings. It wasn’t just any angel though—it was an angel I recognized. As I traced my finger down its curly locks, I marveled at the life sized likeness of Scarlet Baker. Was this where she spent most of her time, where she dreamed her daydreams? I smiled knowing I’d found a replacement for the lost window seat I was lamenting.
I got so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t realize that I got separated from everyone else. Their voices were audible in the distance, talking about fixtures and carpeting and such, but I had no desire to leave my solitude. Solitude was my specialty. I took in every detail as I walked. A long hallway stretched out before me with multiple doors on each side and a stairway at the end. As I opened each door in succession, I found that the bedrooms were unexpectedly smaller than everything else in the house. My bedroom in Trinity was fairly large and I was hoping to find the same thing here. The last one at the far end of the hall was just the right size but it was the master suite and that would go to Dad and Shelly, of course. Suck it up, cupcake! I would gladly give up a large bedroom in exchange for everything else I’d be gaining here.
As I was about to accept my fate, though, something told me to check out the stairway at the end of the hall. I flicked the switch at the bottom and peered up the steps. A single bare bulb lit the small space dimly, yet adequately. The steps were steep and narrow and ended with a small landing and a door to the left. It was probably just a dusty, spider infested attic, right? Maybe. Ignoring what curiosity did to the cat, I decided I had to see for myself.
I ascended the steps carefully, one by one, sliding my hand up the railing as I went. I was never very fond of heights but they scared me even more now since the accident. The wooden planks groaned ominously under my weight and seemed to grow louder with every step. A chill crept up my spine and I had an unexplainable sense that I should just turn aro
und and forget all about my attic adventure. However, I froze in place because I was afraid of what I might find if I turned around, too. The air in the stairwell had been stuffy at best but now it began to feel heavy and infused with a slight electrical charge. It felt like, well, like lightning was about to strike. Not the same kind of lightning that hit me earlier in the diner, though. My Norse god. He wouldn’t be afraid of a stupid attic or the stupid spiders hiding in it! With a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and continued on. I didn’t get far. Just as my foot caught the next step, a loud pop broke the silence followed by the sound of shattering glass. A scream echoed through the now darkened stairway. My scream. I ducked instinctively, hands flying to my face to shield against the razorblade shards but the only thing that came was the sound of my father’s voice.
“Maybe if you turn the light on, you won’t have to scream.”
I heard the familiar flick of the switch and even through eyelids tightly sealed shut; I could see that the hallway was now lit just as it had been before. Lifting my eyes to the ceiling, I stared straight into the illuminated bulb that definitely just exploded only seconds ago. I heard it pop, heard the glass shatter, yet there it hung, glowing and in one piece. How was that possible?
I opened my mouth to tell my dad what I just experienced. “Dad the light just….” When my brain caught up with my mouth, I shut it pretty fast. If I told him what I thought just happened, he would think I was crazy, right? He threatened to send me to a psychiatrist about a thousand different times over the past year, but I was always able to pull my act together long enough for him to change his mind. This time, I wouldn’t just sound depressed, I would sound insane. There would be no talking my way out of this one. So I lied.
“The light just didn’t come on when I tried it.”
“Well, it’s on now so let’s see what’s up there. Do you want me to go first?”
I could hide the truth but I couldn’t hide the fact that I was steeped in fear I’d never known before so I offered him a plausible explanation so that he would drop the subject.
“Yeah, I’ve always been afraid of the dark so maybe you better.” That was sooo not true—I hadn’t slept with a nightlight since I was eight and he should’ve known that!
“I’m sure there’s nothing up there to be afraid of,” he said, squeezing past me fearlessly.
As he twisted the brass door knob, I caught myself holding my breath. What exactly did I think we were going to find in there anyway?
The door swung wide with an eerie sigh. Dad felt along the wall for a switch and when the light came on, I shook my head in disbelief. A portion of the attic had been sectioned off into an apartment. A tiny kitchen sat to the right with just a sink, two cabinets and space for a compact refrigerator. A small island stood in the center that could double as a table. The living space was larger and had two windows from which you could only see the tops of the oak trees out front. To the left I found a bedroom with a nice sized closet and a connected bathroom. Instantly, I was in love with that attic and the strange incident in the stairway was all but forgotten.
“Have you picked out a bedroom yet, Ruby?” Dad asked with a grin.
“I think I just did,” was my reply. Maybe Charlotte’s Grove wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Maybe I spoke too soon.
4. A Wish Come True?
At the end of the tour, Dad dodged a kiss on the lips from The Cougar and sent her on her way just as the moving vans rolled up the drive. For once, my habitual procrastination paid off—my things were the last to be packed which meant they were the first to be unloaded. Dad arranged for the house to be cleaned from top to bottom the week before so I was able to get started immediately. I led the movers up to my new attic haven—two of them with my dresser in tow and two more with my desk. Once they were placed, I asked them to please bring all boxes marked ‘Ruby’ to the third floor. One by one a large stack of boxes grew in my living room—how weird was it to say “my living room”—as I did my best to get everything situated exactly where I wanted it.
The hours flew by as I hung my clothes in the walk-in closet, alphabetized a collection of books worthy of a small library, and organized my CDs based on which ones I was most likely to listen to. My dad didn’t seem to understand the concept of an Mp3 player and continued to buy me CDs for Christmas and birthdays and stuff. He was so old and out of touch. I would never be like that when I was his age.
I was sitting on the floor just inside the door contemplating how I was going to hang my posters when I heard footsteps behind me. They came to a stop just inches behind me. The footsteps seemed too light to belong to any of the movers so I figured Shelly must have come to check out my room. I didn’t really want to talk to her but I was in too good of a mood to argue.
“What do you think of it?” I asked.
No response. My stepmother always had an answer for everything so her silence was unexpected. I glanced over my shoulder to see what her problem was. Her problem was that she wasn’t there. There was no one there. The attic was empty except for me and Mimi who had climbed onto my bed for a nap the instant that I put the comforter on it. I got up from the floor and peered down the steps. No one there either. Was it possible for Shelly to have just been in my room but be all the way down the steps and out of sight so quickly without me hearing her? What about the exploding light bulb that didn’t actually explode? Was I going crazy? Everyone always thought I was weird—maybe they were right.
With my concentration broken, I decided to take a break. I was never much of an outdoorsy kind of girl, but suddenly a walk outside sounded like the best idea ever. Unpacking was a tough job and I’d been at it for hours. Wait a second. That could lead to mental strain and imagining something that didn’t really happen, right? Some fresh air would clear my mind. Just as my feet hit the landing, Shelly appeared in the hallway below.
“Ruby, I was just coming to see if you wanted to go shopping with us. There are a few things we need to pick up and then we’re going to stop for some takeout.”
“Yeah, I just need a minute to change and then I’ll be down.” The phantom footsteps I heard still bothered me. So, desperate to confirm my sanity, I asked, “Were you just up here a minute ago?” I already knew her answer though.
“No, I’ve been in my study sorting out books for the last hour, why?”
“Oh, I just thought I heard someone, that’s all.” I was careful to sound casual—I didn’t want her to think something weird was going on. Because there wasn’t, right? Nothing weird at all.
“It might have been your father. He was in our bedroom earlier, I think.” Their bedroom was almost directly beneath mine so the sound could have traveled from there. Hearing that made me feel a whole lot better.
“You’re probably right. I’ll be down in a minute,” I said and went back to change my clothes and finally put on some real shoes.
Normally I would have cringed at the mere thought of shopping with the two of them but it actually went a lot better than I expected. There was a large shopping center three miles away, just off the interstate called The Village at Charlotte’s Grove. It was set up like a quaint little town with cobbled streets and old-style lampposts and was so large that a shuttle bus ran shoppers up and down the length of it. I breathed a sigh of relief. Stylish clothes really did exist in his town. It still wasn’t the same as being in Philadelphia, but it was much better than I feared it would be.
When Dad asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I decided to answer him truthfully. I wanted another cat. I felt bad for Mimi when I spent so much time at school and she was always left alone. My dad seemed happy to hear it. He was either excited to know that his idea to get me a pet was a good idea or happy that I didn’t ask for something he wouldn’t want to give me like I did for my last birthday. The day I turned 16 was the worst day of my life—a day I wished I could forget but a day that was never far from my thoughts. As my mind returned to that horrible place, I struggled to pull it b
ack. Think about anything but that! I focused on thinking of a name for the warm, fuzzy kitten I would be bringing home with me Monday afternoon and it did the trick. For now.
We only went into three stores out of the nearly 200 choices, a personal record for me. I had $500 left from the thousand dollar prize I received in a writing contest last year and I spent nearly all of it in Pet World. I bought the basics—toys, food, and a new bed—but I splurged on an automatic litter box and a carpeted cat tree. I felt that I owed Mimi that much for being my best friend. Correction—my only friend.
Since he felt that he got off easy in regards to my birthday request, Dad bought me a futon and a compact refrigerator for my new room. He said it would be a good head start on furnishing my room at college next year. Ugh. Another thing I didn’t want to think about.
College was a touchy subject for me. Dad thought I should go to school to be a doctor because I had such good grades in math and science. I wanted to be an English major because writing was my passion. Did it really matter though? Either way, I wouldn’t be going to college with Lee like we planned—I would be going alone. Loneliness was a feeling I would have to get used to. But hunger wasn’t and I was starving.
After drowning my sorrows in takeout from Chow Ming, I was too full to do any more unpacking and decided to call it a night. It was only nine o’clock but I could barely keep my eyes open. I’d always considered myself somewhat of a night owl and was never in bed before midnight. Ever. But it had been quite a long day and extra sleep didn’t sound like a bad idea. I took enough time to hang the curtains we bought for my windows and then got ready for bed. Thunder rumbled in the distance as I brushed my teeth. I loved to sleep when it was raining—the sound was so soothing. As long as there weren’t any leaks in the roof, I would be out cold in a matter of minutes. As I turned off the bathroom light, there was a knock on my door.