Forbidden Secrets
Page 3
“I’m sure it will,” Savannah assured her sister.
“Do you think Zach will come home?”
“Yes,” Savannah whispered. But her voice caught.
“I miss Zach,” Victoria said.
“I miss him too,” Savannah said softly.
“Good night,” Victoria murmured. A few minutes later she heard her sister give a gentle snore.
Savannah turned onto her side. She noticed something on the floor. Something glistening in the moonlight.
She slipped out of bed and knelt on the floor. Her hand trembled as she touched the shiny, dark drops.
They felt warm.
Savannah raised her hand in front of her. Blood covered her fingertips. Dark red blood.
Warm blood . . . from the spot where Zachariah was standing in her dream.
Chapter
8
Savannah got out of bed as soon as it was light. She could not go back to sleep after she discovered the blood on her floor.
Every time she thought about the drops of blood, she felt sick. It must be some strange coincidence, she told herself. Maybe I cut my foot or . . .
Savannah heard a galloping horse. She ran out onto the porch. Timmy, a young boy from a neighboring plantation, rode toward her.
Timmy drew his horse to a halt. “I have a letter for you, Miss Savannah.” He handed her an envelope.
Savannah sat down on the porch steps. She stared at the envelope as Timmy rode away. She did not recognize the handwriting.
A shiver ran down her spine. So many letters brought bad news during the war.
Savannah opened the envelope and pulled out the wrinkled letter. It was spattered with blood. Her heart gave a hard thump when she saw the signature.
Tyler!
Slowly she read the words scrawled across the parchment:
July 1863
Dear Savannah,
Zachariah is dead. I am so sorry. We were both fighting in Gettysburg. I saw him fall. Later I learned of his death.
As I watched the soldiers bury your brother, I imagined myself in the grave beside him—dead. Never seeing you again. Never holding you again.
Forgive me, Savannah. All the deaths in this war made me realize people are more important than North or South.
Wait for me. I will come back for you.
I promise.
Tyler
Savannah clutched the letter to her chest. Tears stung her eyes. Zachariah was dead. And Tyler—
“Sissy! Sissy! What’s wrong?” Victoria rushed out onto the porch.
Savannah stared into Victoria’s worried face. Savannah opened her mouth, but she could not utter the horrible words—Zachariah is dead.
Victoria grabbed the letter. Savannah watched her sister as she read. Victoria gasped and grew pale. Her eyes filled with tears. “No,” she whispered.
Savannah pulled Victoria down next to her. She hugged Victoria as her own tears fell.
“Oh, Sissy,” Victoria said in a quivering voice. “I can’t believe Zach is dead.”
“I know. I can’t either,” Savannah replied. She began to rock back and forth, rocking Victoria with her. They held each other and thought about Zachariah.
“Why couldn’t it have been Tyler that died?” Victoria blurted out.
Savannah jerked away from her. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do,” Victoria insisted. She pushed herself to her feet. “If someone had to die, why couldn’t it have been Tyler? Why did it have to be Zach?”
Savannah stood up and snatched the letter away from Victoria. She could not bear the thought of losing Tyler. Her parents were dead. And now her brother. Tyler would not be ripped away from her too.
Suddenly Savannah remembered the blood on Tyler’s letter. Was it Tyler’s blood? Had he been wounded?
“Can your dark arts tell me if Tyler has been hurt?” Savannah demanded.
Victoria frowned. “You did not believe in the dark arts when I told you the Fiers were cursed.”
“I still don’t. Not really. But I’m frightened. What if this is Tyler’s blood on the letter? What if he is dying—”
“How can you care about him after he broke off your engagement?” Victoria asked. “He hurt you so much.”
“I hurt him too,” Savannah said. She squeezed her sister’s hand. “Please, Victoria. Help me find out if he is all right.”
Victoria’s eyes hardened. “All right,” she said. “Come to my room at midnight. And bring the letter.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The midnight shadows danced around Savannah as she walked down the hallway holding a tallow candle. She stood outside Victoria’s door as the grandfather clock downstairs chimed twelve times. Her heart beat rapidly as she tapped on the door.
Victoria opened the door halfway. “Are you sure you want me to do this?” she asked in a low voice.
“I’m sure,” Savannah replied.
Victoria blew out Savannah’s candle. “Come in, then.”
Savannah stepped into Victoria’s room and shut the door behind her. The heavy drapes were drawn. A solitary candle burned in the center of the room. Savannah noticed a bowl on the floor and a wooden box resting beside it.
Victoria crossed the room and sat on the floor in front of the candle. Savannah suddenly felt cold. She shivered.
“Sit down,” Victoria ordered.
Savannah sat cross-legged on the floor across from her sister. The candle flickered between them.
“Give me the letter,” Victoria said, her voice low and serious.
Savannah unfolded Tyler’s letter and handed it to her sister. Victoria placed it on the floor. The candle flame cast an eerie yellow glow over the scrawled words.
“What will you do?” Savannah whispered.
“Shh!” Victoria picked up the wooden box. It creaked as she opened the lid.
She lifted a pair of chicken feet out of the box. “Kiss them,” Victoria commanded.
Savannah stared at the chicken feet Victoria held in front of her. Her stomach lurched. She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You must if you wish to know the truth about Tyler.”
Savannah quickly touched her lips to the cold chicken feet. She shuddered.
Victoria swept the chicken feet over Tyler’s letter. Then she dipped the feet into the bowl and coated them with a dark liquid. She trailed the feet over the floor, making strange markings around Tyler’s letter.
“Where did you get so much ink?” Savannah asked.
“It’s not ink,” Victoria answered. “It’s blood.”
Savannah covered her mouth. “You frighten me, Victoria,” she said hoarsely.
“I frighten you?” she said harshly. She picked up Tyler’s letter. “This should frighten you!”
She carefully placed the letter back on the floor. She raised her hands toward the ceiling and dropped her head back. She closed her eyes, swayed from side to side, and began to repeat an incantation.
The room grew frigid. Savannah wrapped her arms around herself. I should never have asked her to do this, Savannah thought. I can feel the evil in this room.
The drapes began to flutter.
Victoria released a shrill cry.
Icy wind rushed into the room. It lifted Tyler’s letter and carried it into the flickering candle flame.
“No!” Savannah cried. She reached out to grab the burning letter.
Victoria shoved Savannah away. Savannah watched helplessly as Tyler’s letter crumbled into ashes.
“How could you?” Savannah demanded. “How could you let my letter burn?”
“You should be glad,” Victoria said, her voice cold. “In that single moment I saw the truth.”
“The truth? You know nothing about the truth or Tyler. I never should have trusted you with his letter. You still want him for yourself. You’re still jealous.”
Victoria grabbed Savannah by the arm. Her dark eyes glittered in the candlelight. “You must believe in the dark arts,
Savannah. They reveal the truth. Tyler Fier will destroy you as easily as a single flame destroyed his letter!”
Chapter
9
“Tyler Fier is evil!” Victoria cried. “Evil! Evil! Evil!”
“No!” Savannah yelled. She jerked away from her sister. “I don’t believe that. I love Tyler and I am going to marry him.”
“Bad luck follows his family,” Victoria warned her. “His bad luck will follow you too.”
“No!” Savannah cried, covering her ears. “I won’t listen a moment longer.” She fled into the darkened hallway.
Victoria doesn’t know Tyler as I do, Savannah thought. She stumbled down the stairs and into the foyer. She threw open the front door. Bright moonlight poured into the house.
Savannah rushed outside. She took a deep breath of the night air. Lightning flashed in the distance and the wind picked up. It blew Savannah’s hair around her face.
A storm, she realized. A storm is blowing in.
In the distance she heard a sound. A flapping sound.
Geese! she thought. We can eat geese. She ran around to the side of the house, but she didn’t see any geese. Only sheets hanging on the clothesline.
Victoria forgot to bring the wash in, Savannah realized. All I heard were the sheets flapping in the wind.
The wind howled, blowing harder and harder. Savannah suddenly had the feeling that someone was watching her. She stared up at Victoria’s window. It was dark and empty.
Savannah heard a loud pop. She froze. “Victoria? Did you follow me out here?”
Silence.
She thought she saw someone moving behind the sheets. She grabbed one and whipped it back.
But no one was there.
Savannah shivered. Victoria’s ritual made me edgy, she thought. I never should have asked her to begin practicing her dark arts again.
Snap! A sheet blew free of the clothesline. It enveloped Savannah. It muffled her scream as it wrapped around her. Tight. So tight. It pinned her arms to her sides.
Savannah fell to the ground.
I can’t breathe, she realized in a panic. I can’t breathe.
She choked and gagged. The sheet filled her mouth. Blocked her nose. Suffocating her.
Chapter
10
I don’t want to die! Savannah thought. Please, I don’t want to die!
She fought for breath. Struggling to drag air into her aching lungs.
Savannah rolled over the ground, fighting to loosen the sheet.
The sheet snagged on something—and Savannah heard it rip. She yanked it off her.
Savannah scrambled to her feet, sucking in huge gulps of air. She looked up and saw Victoria. Her sister stood in the window, watching her.
Victoria! Why didn’t she help me?
A horrible idea occurred to Savannah. Victoria did this to me, she thought. She used her dark arts to scare me—to convince me to stay away from Tyler.
The wind blew harder. The remaining sheets flapped wildly on the clothesline.
You see, Savannah scolded herself. There is a rational explanation for what happened. A storm is coming in. The wind is fierce. Victoria didn’t do anything. The wind blew the sheet around me and I panicked.
Victoria loves me. She would never harm me, Savannah told herself.
Would she?
Blackrose Manor
The old woman contemplated the roses surrounding her. The black roses. As black as the ashes that remained after Tyler’s letter burned.
“My story would be so much happier if Tyler’s letter had never arrived,” she whispered in a hoarse voice. “Everything changed after the letter came. Everything changed after it burned.”
She trailed her gnarled finger over a black flannel pouch. Long ago she had pinned it to her skirt.
Its contents are supposed to ward away evil, she thought. But only if you believe. Only if you truly believe.
A pretty little bird landed on the back of her chair.
The withered woman turned slightly and looked at its bright blue feathers. They were the only thing of color in the garden.
“Do you want to hear the rest of my story?” she asked in a raspy voice.
The bird chirped.
The old woman laughed softly. “Very well, then.”
The war continued. Autumn arrived. The leaves changed color. But the sisters barely noticed. They both thought often of Tyler.
Winter came. The chill winds circled the plantation. Circled the sisters. A coldness grew between Victoria and Savannah.
By spring the sisters were drifting apart.
Victoria no longer crawled into bed with Savannah when she was frightened.
Savannah often sat on the front porch steps, watching the road—waiting. Waiting for the war to end. Waiting for another letter.
“If only Tyler had not written at all.” The old woman’s voice caught. She stared vacantly at the roses. Black. As black as Tyler’s hair. As black as—
The bluebird twittered.
The old woman grabbed the bird and tore off its tiny head.
Chapter
11
Whispering Oaks
Spring 1865
The bright sun warmed Savannah as she hoed the small garden.
By summer we will have fresh corn to eat, she thought as she straightened her back. Corn, beans, and watermelon.
Yesterday she had found a few seeds in the cellar, hidden beneath dust and old crates. She wanted to plant them today.
Victoria and I will have a feast someday, Savannah thought. She asked Victoria to help with the garden, but Victoria claimed she was too busy.
“Too busy,” Savannah repeated softly. “Too busy doing what?”
Savannah sighed heavily. Ever since Tyler’s letter, Victoria has changed, Savannah thought. Now she scurries through the house like a frightened rat. She hides in her room. If I knock on her door, she tells me to go away.
Savannah pounded the hoe into the soil, turning the dirt over and over. A long shadow fell across the soil in front of her.
Startled, Savannah jerked her head up. She hadn’t heard anyone approach.
A tall, bedraggled man stood before her. His short gray jacket and trousers were faded and hung loose on his skeletal frame. His boots were worn thin and covered in dust.
He must be a deserter, Savannah thought. She tightened her grip on the hoe and pointed away from the house. “The army is camped over there.”
“No army,” he said in a hoarse voice. “The war is over. I am going home.”
He walked on, dragging his feet over the furrows Savannah had made with the hoe. She reached out and grabbed his arm. “What? What did you say?”
He nodded. “It’s over. They told us to go home. General Lee surrendered. I am going back to Texas.”
Savannah released the man, his words echoing around her.
The war is over.
“The war is truly over?” she called out to the young soldier, wanting more reassurance.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied over his shoulder as he shuffled away.
She hurried after him. “Let me get you something to drink.”
“No, thank you, ma’am. I just want to go home.”
Savannah closed her eyes and listened. Listened hard. No cannons roared in the distance. No gunfire filled the air.
She could hear birds singing in the trees! Savannah waltzed across the soil, using the hoe as her dance partner. “The war is over. The war is over!”
Victoria, she thought. I must tell Victoria. She dropped the hoe and ran into the house. “Victoria! The war is over!”
Savannah rushed up the wide winding staircase and burst into Victoria’s room. Then she stumbled to a halt.
What she saw caused a cold chill to slither down her back.
Victoria sat in a rocking chair near the window. Rocking. Rocking back and forth. And talking.
Talking to Tyler.
Chapter
12
“You are evil, Tyler Fier. Do you feel the sun?” Victoria asked. She laughed. “It will get hotter and hotter.”
Victoria didn’t hear me come into her room, Savannah realized. Her sister continued to rock and talk. Savannah inched closer.
Then she saw the wax doll on the windowsill. The wax doll that looked like Tyler.
“What are you doing, Victoria?” Savannah asked. She struggled to keep her voice calm.
“I am destroying Tyler for you,” Victoria said quietly, her brown eyes dull. “Then he won’t be able to hurt you.”
I can’t talk to her about this now, Savannah thought. She knelt in front of her sister. “Victoria, the war is over,” Savannah said gently. “The soldiers will start coming home now.”
Tears filled Victoria’s eyes. “But who will come home to us? Zachariah is dead.”
“Friends, neighbors . . .” Savannah answered.
“And Tyler,” Victoria said, her voice cold, “I don’t want him to come here. I don’t want him in our house.”
Victoria picked up the wax doll and carried it to her bedside table. She lit a tallow candle and held the doll’s head over the flame.
Savannah watched with dismay as the doll’s wax face melted.
“He’s evil!” Victoria cried. She spun around and threw the doll against the wall. It fell to the floor with a thud.
I cannot convince her that Tyler is not evil, Savannah thought. She will just have to see the truth for herself when he returns.
If he returns. Savannah hated to think about the possibility that Tyler would not return. But she had never received another letter.
“I’m going to find us something to eat,” Savannah said. “We will celebrate tonight.”
She turned to leave. Victoria grabbed her arm. “Wait I have something for you.” She picked up a black flannel pouch and held it out to Savannah. “The pouch is supposed to be red, but I couldn’t find any red flannel. I’m certain the black will work though.”
Savannah did not take the gift. She knew from Victoria that red pouches were used to ward off evil. “What did you put inside the pouch?” she asked, dreading the answer.