The Revenant

by Sonia Gensler

  “Still, I don’t see what a Cherokee dance has to do with Shakespeare, but I suppose you know more about that.”

  “None of us is terribly concerned with historical accuracy,” I said quickly, “and neither was Shakespeare.”

  I’d tried to dismiss her concern, but a vague sense of unease settled over me. I looked away, my eyes drawn to the curving wall of the turret and its three windows.

  “You have more windows than I do, Mae. It makes your room much brighter.” I walked toward them and looked out upon the seminary’s front lawn. “Do noises outside your window ever wake you at night?”

  “No, miss.”

  “Oh,” I said, strangely disappointed.

  She tilted her head. “But I heard voices once.”

  “What voices?”

  “A girl’s voice. I think it was Ella. She was talking from her window, right below mine.”

  “Who was she talking to?”

  “Don’t know. A couple of times, when the moon and stars were bright, I saw her running from the school.”

  “Where was she going?”

  “To the river, I think.” She shivered. “It made my flesh creep to see her run off in the dark in her white nightie. She looked like a ghost already.”

  I walked back down the stairs to Lucy’s room, planning to cheer her with talk of costumes. She sat on her bed frowning over my volume of Shakespeare’s comedies. Though she tried to smile when I showed her the samples of cloth, her distraction was obvious.

  I gestured toward the book in her hand. “What’s wrong, Lucy?”

  “I’ve been reading through As You Like It again. Listening to rehearsals has got me to thinking.”

  “Thinking of what?”

  “Miss McClure, I don’t like this play!”

  I hadn’t expected that. To be honest, my face flushed with sudden anger. But I took a breath and thought for a moment before speaking. “What don’t you like about it, Lucy?”

  She sat up straighter, her face suddenly animated. “Well, for one thing, I don’t like this Duke Senior. I suppose we’re meant to feel bad for him because he’s exiled, but he’s having a merry old time in the forest with all his friends. Does he ever think of the danger his daughter’s in back at court? No!”

  I blinked at the ferocity of her words. “Perhaps he thinks a young lady would be much safer at court than in the woods.”

  “But he knows what sort of person his brother is! Why leave his dear Rosalind in the hands of such a villain? My pa isn’t perfect, but he wouldn’t leave me behind like that. He wouldn’t forget me.”

  “Nor would mine,” I murmured.

  I stared at the wall behind her, my mind drifting to the past when Papa was absorbed in his local theater ventures. During the good times, he’d invite the actors to the house—to our study. While they drank and laughed, I would sit in the corner, blinking against the thick clouds of pipe and cigarette smoke. And when the production was in trouble, Papa would lock himself away with his whiskey for hours—days, even.

  But I’d never felt forgotten. Actors and productions came and went, but Papa and I always had each other.

  “That’s not all, miss,” Lucy continued. “It’s Rosalind and Orlando who truly bother me. They don’t know each other. They’re only pretending to love, as if it’s some sort of game. You can’t love someone you’ve only spoken to for a few moments. Why doesn’t Shakespeare write about lovers who grew up together, who’ve known each other all their lives? I’m sickened by this ‘love at first sight’ nonsense—it’s all shine and no substance.”

  I started to give examples of the bard’s other lovers—Beatrice and Benedick, for instance—but stopped when I saw tears in her eyes. It wasn’t Shakespeare who was upsetting her. It was Ella. Ella and her fairy-tale notions of love. Ella running to the river and forgetting those who loved her.

  “Are you thinking about Ella?”

  She sighed. “It’s coming up on a year since she died. Next week the boys will come to help plan the graduation celebration, and I don’t know if I can bear it without her.”

  I patted her hand sympathetically, but I knew there was more to her morose attitude than that. It seemed about time to confront what truly bothered her.

  “Lucy, why did you say her death was your fault?”

  She opened her mouth but said nothing. After a moment she pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

  I tried another tack. “Why did she go to the river that night? It’s quite a walk from here.”

  Lucy took a deep breath. “At first, she’d go there to meet Cale.”

  This didn’t shock me, considering what I’d already learned from Jimmy and Mae. Back in Columbia I’d known girls who sneaked out of the Athenaeum on warm nights all the time. Some were foolish enough to be caught and punished, while others were far more clever. “You say it was Cale, at first? What happened?”

  “I told you Ella broke off with him?”

  I nodded.

  “Well … there was someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. All the boys liked her. But Fannie teased her for loving a poor full-blood. Was she going to work a farm for the rest of her life? She told Ella the finest girls married richer boys. Whiter boys.”

  She paused, her face crumpling. Impatience tempted me to shake her until she spat it all out, but “Miss McClure” had to wait until she’d regained her composure. Finally, her breathing calmed.

  “Go on, Lucy.”

  “Last spring she was restless,” she said quietly. “Ella nearly jumped out of her skin when I said her name. She’d slipped out of the school at night in the past but was doing it more often to meet this new boy. It went on for months. I thought she’d get us both expelled. And every time we saw the seminary boys in town, Cale would take me aside and ask questions. I grew up with the two of them—they both were my friends. I was pulled in opposite directions, you see? When she told me she was going to meet this … whoever … and that everything would be fine afterward … I snapped.”

  “How?”

  “I told Cale where she’d be.”

  “Why? Did you mean to punish her?”

  “Maybe.” She bit her lip. “But I didn’t want her to die! He was shaking with fury, so angry that I’d kept the truth from him for months. He said I’d betrayed him. He grabbed my arm so roughly … I truly thought he might hurt me.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “And I sent him to her! Am I responsible for what happened to Ella?”

  “No, Lucy. Of course you’re not.” I thought for a moment. “What about the telegram Eli Sevenstar received? It said something about Cale trying to stop her. Did he try to stop her from meeting this person—someone who ended up causing her death?”

  She frowned. “I always figured Cale got to her first. And when the other one got there, no one was about.”

  “And when this other boy heard about Ella’s death, he wouldn’t have said anything for fear of being suspected.” I paused, thinking through the implications. “But what if Cale never went to the river? What if he tried to stop her, like the telegram said, and she laughed him off? Pushed him away? Perhaps he was so angry, so deeply hurt, that he just walked off in the middle of the night.”

  “Who killed her, then?”

  “Maybe it was an accident.”

  “You think she walked into the river and fell over? She could swim, you know.”

  “Well, I still wonder if she drowned herself.”

  Lucy shook her head forcefully. “I said it before—that wasn’t in her nature. Misfortune hit her hard all her life, and she always came through it. That’s what I loved about her.” She swallowed hard. “It makes more sense it was Cale. The other one loved her, and she chose him.”

  That night thoughts of Ella and her secret lover kept me awake. Fannie had pushed the poor girl toward the fairer-skinned, wealthier boys. But she didn’t encourage Ella to make a play for her own brother, at least according to Alice and Lucy. It was more l
ikely to be one of his friends.

  Eli, for instance. He’d admitted to loving Ella in front of everyone. He’d even copied out a passionate poem for her, which she’d not had the decency to throw away. The thought made me more than a little sick.

  I fell into a restive sleep, dreaming of Ella. I’d never seen a photograph of her, but in my dream she had long black hair, flowing loose, and skin the color of milky tea. She sat in the parlor, talking to a boy without a chaperone. I needed to interrupt them, to scold them for such impropriety, but I was frozen in place. Ella’s eyes flashed, and as she tossed her long hair, I saw who sat so close to her, whispering seductive words of rivers and the sea.

  Eli Sevenstar, of course.

  Chapter 16

  “HAVE YOU SEEN THE GIRLS’ FACES?” Olivia nodded toward the three Bell cousins conversing in a tight group near the staircase.

  “They seem nervous,” I said, noting Lelia’s tight-lipped frown. Fannie held her chin high, but her eyes darted toward the chapel more than once. “I thought they would look forward to hosting the boys tonight.”

  “It’s usually a festive gathering, but you know this night also marks the anniversary of Ella’s death. I expect they fear the ghost might make an appearance.”

  I studied Fannie’s haughty face. “Do they think one of their group might be targeted?”

  Olivia nodded. “If they were desperate enough to stage an exorcism, they must feel vulnerable. Fannie behaved wretchedly to poor Ella.”

  “But she’s already been attacked.”

  “She fears a worse punishment awaits her. I think that’s why she’s avoiding the chapel until it’s absolutely necessary to go in there.” She took a breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “There’s a powerful energy in the air tonight, don’t you think?” she whispered. “Perhaps we could try another séance later?”

  I shivered. “Crenshaw’s always watching me these days.”

  When the male students arrived, I did my best to maintain a teacherly reserve—at the very least I tried not to be obvious in searching the crowd for Eli Sevenstar. But the instant his eyes met mine, I could not look away. He did not smile, and I wondered if walking through our doorway took him back to the previous year’s gathering—the last time the male students had seen Ella Blackstone alive. Did this night bring back memories of their courting? Did he still mourn her? The words from that poem echoed in my mind. Ella had gone to the river to meet someone, and it wasn’t Cale. A question hovered in my mind.

  Was it you, Eli?

  I could never bring myself to ask it.

  Eli and Larkin Bell joined a small group of junior girls in the parlor, but I could not follow since Miss Taylor already patrolled the room with one of the music teachers. Olivia and I walked the halls instead, making sure no girl wandered into a dark corner with a boy.

  Once the meeting officially convened in the chapel, we took our places near the door as directed by Miss Crenshaw. Eli slumped in a chair, his back to me, and spoke to no one as the students took their seats. I settled into my own and prepared to endure the slow passage of time until the meeting was over and I could see Eli’s face again.

  After a tepid exchange of ideas, Fannie Bell rose abruptly and stood before the group. If she’d previously felt any nervousness about the chapel, it was not evident as she boldly outlined her suggestions for the graduation festivities. Occasionally, I saw a hand tentatively raised, but Fannie pointedly ignored all attempts at interruption. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. Fannie was supposed to be the one listening as the juniors offered ideas. Olivia seemed absorbed by this unfolding drama, but I allowed my mind to wander. I cared little about the events Fannie planned, for in the end I would merely stand at the edge of their circle as the students celebrated. My thoughts turned instead to the play and how I might direct Alice to affect more confidence in her exchanges with Fannie. Alice’s sweetness was an asset when Rosalind shared scenes with her cousin Celia, but a detriment during the witty banter with Orlando.…

  Eli suddenly stood. We were an hour into the meeting—not nearly time for refreshments—and yet there he was, turning away from the group and walking past me toward the corridor. I glanced back to see Fannie staring after him. No one else seemed to notice, not even Miss Crenshaw, who sat at the front of the room marking math quizzes. I turned questioning eyes to Olivia. She merely shrugged her shoulders, looking as perplexed as I felt.

  “I’ll go round him up,” I whispered, my heart pounding even as I tried to keep my expression matter-of-fact. I was merely a teacher going after a stray pupil, after all—nothing for anyone to be concerned about. With a final glance to make certain Crenshaw was still absorbed in her work, I slipped from the room.

  The first floor was deserted, the freshmen and sophomores having withdrawn to the dining room for study hall. The primaries kept to the third floor, as usual.

  When I reached the vestibule, I heard the soft click of the front door closing. Did Eli intend to walk back to the male seminary alone? After a moment’s hesitation, I followed him, pulling my shawl snugly about my shoulders as I opened the door and stepped into the chilly night air.

  He stood under my window, his back to me. The gas lamps blazed, so I stayed within the shadow of the building’s grand archway.

  “I know you’re there,” he said.

  My heart lurched. “What are you doing?”

  “I couldn’t listen to Fannie anymore. I just …”

  I took a step toward him. “You just what?”

  “I don’t give a damn about planning a party for graduation. No one dares speak about what happened a year ago. Maybe no one cares anymore.”

  “Do you still care?”

  He turned at that, staring at me for a long moment. His eyes were unreadable. Finally, he glanced up at my window and frowned. “That was her room.”

  “It’s mine now.” He must have forgotten Fannie teasing me about it in front of everyone, for his eyebrows lifted.

  “You’re in Ella’s room?” He moved closer, his dark eyes thoughtful. He searched my face intently. “You’re nothing like her.”

  A cold knot tightened in my stomach. I was no great beauty—I knew that. In comparison to Ella, I must have seemed quite dull and plain. Tears came to my eyes, but I couldn’t let him see. I tugged at my shawl and turned away.

  “Don’t leave,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder.

  I flinched at the sudden contact but allowed him to turn me back around. I couldn’t look in his eyes, couldn’t bear to see mockery there.

  “I should go,” I whispered.

  “You misunderstood me.” He traced a finger along my cheek. “Ella was lost in a dream, changing her mind from day to day. You are steady, and I trust you. I just wish … I knew how you felt.”

  At those words, I looked up. “About what?”

  “About me.” He twined a loose tendril of my hair around his finger.

  “But … I can’t feel anything about you. I shouldn’t be out here with you. I’m a teacher.”

  He smiled. “You have the eyes of a girl. You followed me out here, and when you look at me with those eyes, I can’t help seeing you as a girl.” He drew closer, and without thinking, I leaned in to meet him. “For months I’ve thought about kissing you,” he whispered, “and it’s not part of some prank to rile a teacher. I think about it because I want to kiss you.”

  His face was inches away. He smelled vaguely of spirits, which made the knot in my stomach tighten again. Drinking at Larkin’s home was one thing, but at a seminary function? If he were caught, the punishment would be stiff—perhaps even expulsion. But more worrisome at that moment was the thought that he’d been drinking to cloud his memories of Ella, to dull the pain of her loss. The very idea made me want to shake him.

  Or kiss him.

  “What are you thinking?” he whispered.

  My cheeks flamed as though he’d read my mind. I couldn’t meet his eyes, so I stared at his mouth instead. Such a h
andsome mouth. How terrifying and yet how lovely to be kissed by those lips!

  Still, he did not come closer.

  The longer we stood so near, the more powerfully a strange certainty gripped me: if I kissed him, I might exorcise those memories of Ella. If I didn’t, I would shrivel up and die a coward.

  So, I took a deep breath … and pressed my mouth against his.

  His lips, cool and soft, curved into a smile.

  The reality of what I’d done struck me like a hammer and I pulled away. Eli’s arms were around me in an instant, and I gasped as he buried his face in my neck.

  “Finally,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.

  One hand moved down my spine, while the other gently cradled the back of my head. The shock of his body touching mine, his breath on my flesh, clutched the air from my lungs. I softened against him as he kissed my neck, my cheek, and then covered my lips with his own.

  At first the kiss was slow and tender, but as my breath quickened, his mouth pressed harder, parting my lips. I’d never been kissed before, and in my wildest dreams I never expected to be kissed like that. It was thrilling … and a little frightening.

  I broke the kiss, gasping for air and shivering.

  Eli frowned. “Are you cold?”

  “I’ve nearly dropped my shawl.” I fumbled at the scratchy wool, staggering as I stepped on a stray end. Once I’d tugged it from under my foot, Eli smoothed the fabric so that it fit snugly around my neck. His hands lingered on my shoulders.

  I shivered again.

  “What is this between us?” he asked wonderingly.

  “I don’t know.” I glanced back at the school. The clock tower loomed above us, sending a different chill through my body. “But I could lose everything if we’re seen out here tonight.” I pulled away and began walking toward the side door.

  He was at my side in an instant. “But why? You’re not my teacher. And I doubt you’re that much older than me.”

  “Miss Crenshaw is very keen on propriety. It’s important that I keep this position. I don’t know where I’d go if I lost it.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “It will be different when I graduate.”