by Tara Brown
I get lost in the process a little, and before I realize it, I’m playing and singing in the study.
“He isn’t paying you to play.”
I look up to see Alex. I shake my head, “What is your issue?”
He scoffs, “I don’t have an issue. He wants to see you, in the library.”
I get up and walk to him. His eyes lower to the guitar, “You can probably leave that here. He might think you’re trying to steal it.”
I shake my head, “No. Everything I’ve cleaned has gone back to dirty. If I leave it in this cursed room, it’ll be out of tune when I get back.”
A slow smile creeps across his lips, “Someone catches on quickly.”
I frown, “What’s the deal with that, anyway?”
He shakes his head, “Not sure. You’re the curse girl, surely you must know more about them than I do.”
I make a face and look around the room, noticing it is a little cleaner than when I started. Maybe I was hallucinating the mess coming back. I sigh and point, “Lead the way to the library.”
He gives me an unhappy look back, “Find it yourself.” He stalks off, leaving me there. I purse my lips and look both ways. The wind blows from the left so I go right. I walk until I feel it again. The wind blows right so I turn left. I walk until I am under a massive arch and in the entrance to the bright and beautiful library. The smell of books hits me instantly. I sigh and close my eyes, letting the smell transport me. It’s divine.
He is reading a book on a chaise, still wearing the hood. It’s like watching a grim reaper read a book, exceptionally creepy.
I walk in, gripping the guitar. “You look really creepy with the cloak up. I think the simple act of reading with it on makes it worse. Like a Dementor. I feel like I need Harry Potter to save me from you. You know that movie? Just take it off. Besides, whatever is under there can't be as bad as killing boys who kiss you. Let’s be honest, there is no way you are as big of a freak as I am.” I turn and point at the doorway, “The wind fights me on decisions I make, and when I walk near them, plants die. Whole trees lose their leaves, all of them.”
A smile crosses his lips when he lifts his face, “You found your guitar?”
I am startled by the scars. I look down at the guitar abruptly, forcing myself to not look at him, “It’s not mine. I just found it in the study.”
He sounds funny, breathy. “I mean, I got it for you. It is yours. I hear you sing beautifully. When I asked Lance about you this morning, he told me that you were a singer. I sent him on a hunt for the guitar. I knew we had one somewhere here.”
I frown at him, not wanting to tell him I snooped but not sure I want to tell him how I got the guitar. Will Lance tell him that he never gave it to me? I decide not to answer either way and nod, “I do play and sing. I like music a lot.” I take a breath and lift my face to see it all, now that I am prepared for it. He pulls back the hood, and it takes me a second to take it all in. He is a mess, a frightening mess. A horror, really. An old scar splits his hair across the middle of his head, making a bald strip. His dark, shaggy hair covers it mostly but you can see the shine of the scar there. His face has three scars that come down across his face, high on the left and making their way low to the right, like he got into a fight with a comic book character. One of his ears is cut in half, as is his left eyelid, making his eye sag. I can see the scars working their way from his neck to his chest and shoulders, but his cloak and shirt hide them. He is a mess. I am holding my breath so I don’t make a sound. I force a smile across my face, “You wear your curse on the outside. I wear mine on the inside.”
He nods once. His eyes strike me as odd. I can't see the color. They are dark.
I tear my gaze from him and glance about the room, “You like to read?”
He nods again, “You play music and I read.”
I laugh, “I like to read too. I worked at the school library before. I love books.” I see his smile in my peripheral, along with his scars. They look like stripes, angry ones. I want to cry for him. Whatever marked him that way, hated him. I want to make it better.
“Have you read them all?” I don’t know what else to talk about. I want to be rude and ask about the scars but I don’t.
“No. I try to read a book a month. I don’t like to skim read. I like to do it slowly and take in every feeling or image the author is trying to show me.” His voice is calm and his words are slow, “Are you scared of me?”
I look at him, holding my breath again. I shake my head and force my words to match his, slow and calm. “Should I be?”
He shakes his head but his words speak otherwise, “I am a monster.”
I smile, “You don’t look like a monster. You look like you might have met with one.”
He laughs and I see his beautiful smile behind the scars. He contemplates something, like he might move but he doesn’t, “And if I told you I did this to myself?”
I shake my head, “I would never believe that.”
He seems so unsure of himself around me. It’s an odd experience. My whole life, everyone has acted like they’re my superior. My flaws have been out there for everyone to see. I see now that there are always people who have it worse than you. His life must be hard.
“I’m Lynnie.”
He sits, “Shall we discuss your contract, Lynnie?” He doesn’t tell me his name.
I sit across from him on the other sofa. It isn’t as comfortable as I imagined it might be.
“You will agree to stay for one year, cleaning and helping out around here. I will pay you whatever sum you demand.”
I frown, “A year? I can’t wait a year. I have to go to New York in October. I can only work the summer.”
He nods slowly, taking it in maybe. “Do you have enough money for New York?”
I swallow hard and bite my lip. I think for a second and cock my eyebrow, “Any amount of money I ask for?”
He nods. I think about the fancy red car and nod, “One year?”
He nods again. I stand and look past him at the yard. This can’t possibly be worse than Mary’s house, and it is only a year, and I can replace all the money she stole. I walk away from the couches, pacing, “Alex has to be nice to me.”
He laughs softly. It reminds me of something I heard once. I shake my head to myself as I think aloud, “One year and any amount of money I demand.” I am not verifying it, I am contemplating. I sigh, “I want twenty-nine thousand, eight hundred and forty-five dollars. I want room and board, and to be allowed to play with the musical instruments.”
He holds his scarred hand out. I walk to him, placing my hand in his. He doesn’t shake, he just holds it. I would swear I know him but that is impossible. He has a face one would remember. I will probably have nightmares about it tonight.
But even with the horrors before me, I find myself trying to see his eye color and staring at his lips. I imagine that at one time he was handsome beyond belief.
It makes me sad that someone would take something so beautiful and destroy it. I imagine my heart is like that. I imagine it once stood a chance at being beautiful, but now it is like his face.
Chapter Six
“She is killing everything—it’s a sign.”
I know Alex is talking about me. I don’t move from the dark hallway to let him know I am right on the other side of the swinging door.
Heidi sighs, “Darling, just let the process take effect. She is a good person, deep down. We cannot change the way she is, nor can you. Be grateful she isn’t Baylor.”
“Not yet. Give her time.”
My stomach drops. Are they talking about me? A good person deep down? That’s mean. I stand there, more frozen than before. Alex stomps off but I don’t move. The wind starts to move around me. I shake my head, telling it to go away.
Heidi comes into the room that I am in. She looks nervous when she sees me, “Did you hear that?”
I nod.
She puts a hand on my arm, “Honey, he doesn’t mean i
t. He knows you can’t help it. I know you can't.”
I shake my head, “It's the curse, I think. I think it's worse here. It's not me, I swear. You said Baylor. Who is Baylor?”
Her eyes widen, “Oh, that’s my pet name for Tim. We always call him Baylor. It is his middle name.” Her voice does the thing it does when she is lying. Why would they be grateful I’m not like Tim? She’s lying and I want to know why. I force a smile, “Sweet name.”
Her eyes narrow, “Lance said that he heard in town you had a sister once?”
I nod, taking the iced tea she has made me. She walks into the kitchen. I follow her and sit. “She was my baby sister, named Rosie. She was a small child when she died.”
“Oh, a little sister?” She bites her lip.
I sigh, “She was the sweetest kid in the world. Our father died when I was young. Rosie was in the womb still. We lived somewhere in Maryland at the time. Mom made us come to live in Lakeland. The whole curse thing drove Mom nuts. She gave birth and killed herself a few months later. We were left with our grandmother, Mary.” I can barely get the next words out, but for some reason, I do. I continue talking even though I want to stop. “She, Mary, hated me. Rosie was her favorite. I always thought that, but then Rosie died when it was just her and Mary at the house. Rosie fell down the stairs.”
My voice cuts out and my words slowly become nothing but air leaving my trembling lips, “I was supposed to babysit her, but I made a stink about going to a friend’s birthday party. When I came home, Rosie was gone and the ambulance was just leaving. I think she might have killed Rosie to spite me. She never said it out loud and I never saw it, but I suspect it was her.” I shake my head, “If I’d only stayed home, she’d still be here.” I don’t realize I’m crying until I can't see anymore. The tears have taken over my eyes.
Her hand covers mine, “I am so sorry, Lynnie. That is truly awful.”
I look at her and see tears in her eyes too. She is the sweetest lady. I flip my hand over and grip to hers.
We sit there for a second and then Tim comes running in and points outside. She stands and follows him. He rarely talks, and when he does, I swear he has an English accent.
Alex comes into the kitchen. He sees me there and scowls. I sigh, “Why can't you just be nice to me?”
“Why do you have to kill every plant in the yard? You know we have a dead spot around the house that goes in a perfect circle?"
I frown, “Well, now it matches the inside of the house.”
He laughs and sits across from me. He puts his hands over his face and laughs, “You are a pain in the ass, Lynnie.”
I laugh with him, “Then we should be best friends.”
He lowers his hands and points, “Stop flirting with me, it’s disturbing.”
I try not to wince and instead scoff, “Don’t flatter yourself, fat head.”
“You really have no idea, do you? The affect you have in this house? You have no idea who you are?”
I shake my head, “I’ve been here a week. How can I have an affect yet? It’s us hired help in the kitchen and you and the great and powerful master in the other room. You eat together in silence and mope around here the rest of the time. What affect could I have on that merriment?”
His dark-blue eyes sparkle, “You should go for a swim. Or go to town. Get out for a day.”
I don’t know what to say to that. He laughs again and slaps the table hard when he gets up and leaves me there. I get up, following him out the front door and see he’s right. The grass is brown and yellow and dry. The bushes are dead. Everything is dead. The wind comes and cools the warm breeze around me. The wind seems lost and less powerful. I walk around the back of the house, and there in the long grass to the lake, is a line. It is rounded and circles the house. The grass on the other side is green and healthy.
I walk down the path to the healthy grass. The wind pushes me hard enough that I nearly stumble.
“STOP!”
I turn to see him. The master is running down the grass to me. In the bright sunlight, he looks normal. He runs, and I swear, I know him. He is handsome and makes my heart beat faster. When he gets closer, I see the scars, but maybe less until he opens his mouth. “You said you would stay a year.”
I point at the lake, “I just wanted to see the lake and the grass. See how it’s dead around the house? I think that’s from me. Mary’s house always looked like that. Dead. Sometimes I think the whole curse is more real than I can even imagine.” I look up a him, “Sorry, about the yard.”
“I could not care less than I do about the yard.” He looks confused, “You can't leave. You said you would stay a year. You promised.” He looks on the verge of one of his angry attacks. His hands are shaking. It almost makes me curious why he’s so determined I have to stay, it makes me want to leave just to see what will happen. Of course the money makes me stay, that and the feeling of belonging.
I smile as sweetly as I can, but I’m freaking out inside. “Looking at the grass is not leaving. I am not leaving. I swore it and I won't leave.” I don’t get why he's so fired up. I don’t understand why he cares if I look at the yard—he has serious trust issues. Of course being here, makes me think that maybe he has been abandoned to this haunted house by his family. He is here with servants and no family. It’s horrible but maybe that’s just it. He’s scared that I will abandon him too. But who am I to him? I’m the maid who doesn’t really clean much and not for a lack of effort. I do try—the damned place just won’t stay clean.
“All right then, let’s go back.” he sighs, running his hand through his hair, and I recognize that movement. I know him, or at least, I did once.
I narrow my gaze, “How long have you been scarred?”
He gives me a cold stare, “What?”
I shake my head, “I just swear, I know you from somewhere.”
His eyes light up, “You would never forget my face, trust me. I have looked this way a long time.”
I nod, “Alex thinks it's me killing everything too.”
He laughs, “He’s an irritable bastard. Let's go get something to eat.”
“You want me to eat with you?”
He gives me a sideways glance. I try not to stare at the cut in the eyelid when he speaks, “I was thinking that maybe we should get to know each other better. Me and you.”
I cut him off, feeling the air with my hands, “Does it feel crazy warm to you? I think this is the hottest it has ever been in June before, and only last week, it was freezing.” I give him a smile, "I would like to get to know you too. We can't be that far apart in age.”
His lips play with his smile, “Living on the lake does wonders for the aging process.”
We laugh and I swear the scars are lessened when he smiles. He walks into the house and leads me to the library. He pulls out an old board. I scowl, “Doesn’t look like food to me.”
He laughs and rings a bell. Heidi is there within seconds. He looks up at her, “Snacks maybe?”
I sigh, “Please and thanks, Heidi. Do you want any help?”
She gives me a wide smile, “No, child. Have a break.”
He laughs, “Clearly she doesn’t realize what you’ve been doing all day.”
I gasp, “Whatever. I was working.”
He rolls his eyes, which looks creepy. There is no getting past that. “This is backgammon and you will love it.”
I sit across from him and look at the board, “Looks hard.”
He shakes his head, “‘Tis not.” He teaches me to play and I do love it. We laugh and joke and eat the delicious concoctions Heidi makes. Before I realize it, it's night. I am cold and the fireplace is lit, but I don’t recall he or I doing it. I don’t recall being cold before that moment either. It is like a switch was turned. He is talking, but it’s not the haunted, lost-in-thought talking. It’s sweet. He smiles as he speaks, “Lance has gotten us all addicted to Nutella. We are eating it on everything and every time we run out, you can see the mood of the hous
e shifts.”
I scowl, “Why doesn’t Lance just go shopping for more?”
He opens his mouth, like he’s stuck for an answer, “We try to keep our diet as natural as possible.” He looks confused by his own answer. He’s so weird sometimes. “We only allow ourselves the processed foods every now and then.”
I laugh, “Is that why Heidi is so weird about the food delivery truck? She never lets me help. It’s always gone by the time I realize the pantry is full again.”
He nods slowly.
I yawn and stretch out, “This is nice. I never imagined this house could feel so homey. But it does.”
He chuckles, “Yes, the house does seem to come to life when you are here.” In the firelight his scars make him look evil, but I know he is not.
I laugh and drink the weird spiced wine I can't seem to get enough of. “Is this house magical? It’s beyond homey. It’s something else. I have never been more relaxed anywhere in my life. I feel like I'm supposed to be here and I don’t know why. And the house changes and the time seems undetermined. Like I can’t tell what day it is. The clocks are always different in every room, and I swear sometimes I see furniture that isn’t there.”
He laughs harder. His eyes squint when he does it. He shakes his head, “This is but a house, Lynnie. The magic is within us.” He scowls.
I shake my head, “No, there is something with this house."
He looks at me, and I swear his eyes are burning. They are so dark that I can see the flames of the fire flickering in them. He mesmerizes me. I lean on the armrest and smile softly at him, "Have you ever been in love?” I realize then, I do not know his name. I call him many variations of master, all the while mocking the name, but I don’t know his true name. I am about to ask, but I stop myself. I can’t imagine a name that suits him more than master.
He drinks a huge gulp of wine and answers me, “I have.”