Darkling

by R. B. Chesterton

He shrugged, discomfort settling into his features. “Nothing to talk about.”

  “Tell us.” Erin tapped the tape recorder. “We want our parents and Annie to hear. She tells us ghost stories, and we want to find some good ones to pay her back.”

  “Donald and Erin are connoisseurs of ghost stories,” I said. “Me, too.”

  Si grinned. “That’s right. Young folks like a little spookiness, don’t they?”

  “Please,” Donald begged.

  “I guess I can accommodate if your teacher says it’s okay? Miss Cora told me not to get you all goosed up over bogeymen.”

  I stuffed down my sudden unease. “There’s nothing bad to tell, except Sigourney was mean, right? I don’t see the harm.”

  “Sigourney was mean. No denying that. But there’s more to Belle Fleur. More to the history of that house and the family that lived there.”

  Donald and Erin were leaning forward, eyes wide. I nodded for him to continue. I was as curious as the children.

  “Well, they say that sometimes, just as the sun is setting, if you look up at the third floor windows, you can see a young girl standing there. The wind blows in off the Sound and the curtains flutter around her.”

  I felt again the tightening in my chest, the sense that something restricted my breathing. Si’s words were harmless enough, the simple stuff of classic ghost stories. “But the third floor was an attic. No one used it until Bob renovated it,” I said.

  “Back in the day, it was Chloe’s room.”

  “The daughter?” Erin asked.

  “That’s right, Chloe Desmarais.” Si shifted in his chair. “’Course it’s most likely just a trick of the sun.”

  “Why would Chloe haunt the house?” Erin asked. “We found her grave. She was really young. Only as old as Margo. She must have had an accident to die so young.”

  “Folks say Chloe had a hard life.” Si frowned and I knew he’d stepped into territory that gave him discomfort. I wanted to stop this, but I didn’t know how.

  “Why?” Donald had to ask it.

  “She, uh, made some mistakes. Sometimes it’s not as easy to fix things as you might think.”

  Funny how his thoughts paralleled mine—about Margo.

  “What did she do?” Erin’s question was direct. “We have to find out, for our project. History isn’t something that can be changed to make people happy. There was slavery in this country. It’s a fact. The Irish were treated like vermin. It’s a fact. We destroyed an entire culture when we wiped out the Native Americans. So what happened to Chloe?”

  I was proud of Erin. I’d taught her that history couldn’t be compromised to spare the feelings of a few people. Still, Si might not subscribe to my doctrine, and I didn’t want to make Erin afraid of her own home. “I think we’ve bothered Mr. Bailey enough for one morning.” I stood and put a hand on Erin’s shoulder.

  “But we haven’t gotten the whole story.” Erin’s jaw set. “You taught us not to halfway do a project, and we need to know what happened. What mistakes did Chloe make that no one wants to talk about?”

  “She got herself pregnant and then it seems she fell down a flight of stairs.” Si blurted it out. “She was only sixteen, and it killed her and the baby. Grief killed her father. He died only a few months after she was buried. The loss of both Henri and Chloe sent Sigourney over the edge. She became mean and took pleasure in frightening children in the town.” His words were rushed, and he stopped abruptly.

  Donald and Erin sat so quietly, I could hear the tape recorder spinning. They hadn’t expected the vehemence of Si’s answer. Neither had I. But this was part of the lesson. History, for all intents and purposes, might be dead, but people’s reactions to it weren’t.

  “What an awful tragedy. Thank you,” I said. “Children, we should go.”

  “Does Chloe’s ghost haunt our house?” Donald asked.

  Si, knowing we were headed out the door, had regained some of his humor. “Now why would you ask something like that?”

  “Annie says she does.”

  His words stopped me in my tracks. “Annie? She doesn’t know anything about Belle Fleur or Coden. She’s only lived there two minutes! And she was told not to tell stories that scared you two.”

  My tone was too sharp, and Donald stepped back.

  “I’m sorry.” I tried to ease him out the door, but he refused to budge.

  “Are there any pictures of Chloe?” he asked. “Annie said she was really beautiful.”

  “That I don’t know, young man.” Si’s gaze met mine over Donald’s head. “But I can tell you it was said she was a rare beauty. Dark hair and beautiful eyes, old French blood. Delicate bone structure. There was a photo of her in Chad Petri’s book. Damn shame about that fire. Makes me wonder what this community is coming to.”

  “It’s terrible about the fire. I’m so glad Mr. Petri wasn’t more seriously injured.” I nudged the children toward the porch.

  “Damn strange if you ask me.” Si was agitated now. “I told him it would do no good plundering around in the past. But the book was printed ten years ago. Doesn’t make sense someone would hurt him because of it now.”

  “Come on, children,” I said. They’d gathered the tape recorder and their notebooks, but they were dallying. Si Bailey was a source of much information for them.

  Si stopped inside his screen door as we went onto the porch. “Folks say it isn’t Chloe who haunts the house, but that bitch Sigourney.” He realized he’d cursed in front of the children, but he waved it away. “Bitch she was. Hit me so hard I lost an entire summer in a cast. For no reason. All I did was speak to her.”

  I pushed the children along the porch and down the steps. This wasn’t the way I intended for the interview to go. The children shouldn’t be exposed to cursing and anger and foolish stories of ghosts. “Thank you,” I called as I ushered them into the car.

  When we backed out of his driveway, I saw him behind the screen, watching. He seemed to have shrunk in size, a man defeated by the bitter taste of the past.

  14

  We crossed the small bridge over the bayou and I parked beneath the shade of a big cypress. Ever since I was a child, I’d loved this spot. It was right in the middle of Coden, yet isolated. I could identify the type of vehicle passing by the sound it made on the old bridge. On the summer days when Cora had been at work and I was left to my own devices, I’d walked to town and brought a lunch to eat beside the bayou. No one noticed me, hiding among the weeping willows and cattails. In a small town, secret places are hard to keep.

  The smell of burgers and fries wafted from a fast-food joint up the street, and a breeze kicked off the water, bringing the odor of fish and brine. Somehow, it was comforting. I decided to keep the children in town for several hours. Maybe by the time we got home, Margo would have come to her senses and returned. With all my heart I wanted my Belle Fleur family reunited in the house, laughing and happy. A sixth sense warned me that that was not to be.

  The day was sunny and stifling hot. Erin’s shirt stuck to her back as she squatted beside the bayou. She and Donald examined the shallows for aquatic life while I rested on a bench in the leafy shade of a sweet gum. When I saw the patrol car pull up and park beside the station wagon, my gut clenched. Was it word about Margo? It couldn’t be good if a uniformed officer had to deliver it. Then I realized who was driving the car.

  A flush ran up my cheeks as I remembered Annie’s observation about Deputy Mark Walton. She’d seen what I missed. Or perhaps she’d made it up.

  Mark sat behind the steering wheel and watched Erin and Donald. He knew who they were. They were so obviously not of Coden that everyone knew them by sight. I climbed the steep bank and walked over. Mark rolled down his window and tilted his head. “Mimi Bosarge,” he said. “Back from college.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was complimenting or baiting me. For some in the Coden community, the idea of college, especially for a girl, was a sign of a family getting above itself. Cora had earned
her bachelor’s degree in social work, but she’d done it after Grandpa Willis passed away. Education was fine for a widow woman who had to fend for herself. A young girl, though, was expected to marry and go under the care of her man. I’d defied those expectations, and there was talk about me in town. The whispers and speculations were ugly, and only respect for Cora kept them tamped down. The thought depressed—and aggravated—me. I’d wanted to fit in, but I couldn’t help that I reached for more of life than others did.

  “I am home,” I said. “At least for a while.”

  “I heard you got hired by the Henderson family. Going to bring some Alabama learning and culture to those Californians.”

  His smile told me he had no ulterior motives. His comments weren’t intended to cut. “They’re a great family. I’m lucky to have the job.”

  “I’m headed out there. Got a call from Mr. Henderson about his eldest daughter. Seems she snuck out of the house and took a runner. What’s your opinion? Is this serious, or is she just acting up?”

  I swallowed a lump of dread. Bob and Berta were obviously frantic to involve the law. “Margo is wild, but she isn’t stupid.”

  “I sure hope not. There’s just so damn much meanness in the world today. Here in Coden, it’s pretty safe. Worst things going on here are those Moonies holding group weddings and a couple of fistfights at the Bahama Breeze. If she took it in her head to get up to the highway and hitchhike.…” He didn’t finish the thought.

  “She has a boyfriend. Andrew Cargill.”

  “So I’ve been told. No sign of him either. He didn’t show up for work today.”

  I couldn’t decide if I felt better or worse with that information. “Do you think they ran off together?”

  “It looks that way, but I’m not jumping to conclusions.”

  “Has anyone seen them?”

  He shook his head. “Mrs. Henderson is pretty worried. She doesn’t know this community and I think she sees more danger than there is here.”

  “She’s protective. It’s the way mothers should be.” My tone was harsher than I intended. “Sorry, it’s just that she loves her children. She has a right to be worried.”

  He winked at me. “I’ll cut her some slack. You, too.”

  Mark had learned how to flirt. Back in high school he’d been shy. “Would you tell Berta the children and I are fine?” I leaned closer and caught a whiff of English Leather. Some of the college boys had worn that cologne. “I’m keeping them out of the house. The tension and all.”

  He nodded. “Will do. And that’s a smart idea.” He began to roll up the window to save the air conditioning that was blasting in the car but stopped halfway. “Hey, Mimi, would it be okay if I called you sometime?”

  I hesitated, suddenly unsure. My dating know-how amounted to zip. Mark was a grown man, a sheriff’s deputy. What use did he have for a girl like me with no experience? “Now isn’t a good time. Everything is up in the air with Margo missing. Maybe when she comes home.” I was surprised at the sweep of disappointment. I wanted a date with him.

  “Now that’s incentive to find the wayward teen.” His smile was quick and filled with good humor. “I’ll have her home before dark.” He finished with the window and backed away from me. In a moment he’d disappeared over the bridge.

  “Mimi’s got a boyfriend!” Erin looked like a wicked little sprite. Her eyes danced with mischief. “Mimi’s got a boyfriend!” she sang.

  Donald took it up, too. I ignored them. My knowledge of men was limited. No father. No brothers. I hadn’t dated in high school or college. I’d avoided the situation, uncertain how to behave with the opposite sex and the feelings men brought out in me. Cora hadn’t pushed me, at least not hard. She’d arranged a few introductions that went nowhere. She’d always said I would find the right path in my own good time. It occurred to me that maybe Mark was the path. But how was I supposed to know? He did make my stomach jitter and my palms sweat, but was that good or bad?

  Donald took my hand and tugged me back toward the water. “Why didn’t you tell the deputy about the girl in the woods? The one you saw last night.” He looked up at me. “I saw her, too.”

  I’d convinced myself she was a product of my overactive imagination. “What did you really see?” I asked him. We moved into the shade. Sweat trickled down my back and into the waistband of my jean shorts, but I pulled Donald onto my lap. “Tell me everything.” I had a sense this was important.

  “Just a girl. She was watching the house. Like the girl I saw with Annie. The one in the marsh grass that frightened me. She pointed toward the house.”

  So Donald had seen what I saw. It wasn’t the wind or my imagination. “Did she look like anyone you know?” I’d seen her, but I didn’t have a clear memory of anything except her hair. Maybe she was one of Margo’s girlfriends waiting for her to sneak out.

  Donald stared at me. “Her hair was wild. All around her face. It was dark and curly, like Annie’s.” He took a strand of my hair. “Like yours.”

  “Annie was walking down Shore Road and I was in the kitchen. Do you think our mystery girl was someone Margo knew? Think about friends Margo may have talked about.”

  He shrugged. “Couldn’t tell. It was so dark. Margo has a lot of secrets, you know. She doesn’t want me to know her friends.”

  “All teenage girls have secrets.” I could tell Margo had hurt his feelings. She’d done a damn good job of hurting everyone at Belle Fleur. She’d learn one day that pain always came back in spades. “Don’t take it to heart, Donald.”

  “Will you tell the deputy about the girl?”

  “If it looks important I will.” I eased him to the bench beside me. “I think it was someone waiting for Margo to give her a ride.”

  Donald nodded. “I think she was waiting for someone to come outside.” He stared at me. “Or maybe she was waiting to come in.”

  15

  Because of the poverty and lack of opportunity, Coden saw its fair share of “missing” teens. Most of them packed up and moved west or north, looking for a new life, one with broader dimensions. Margo was a child of privilege, so law enforcement took her strange disappearance seriously, hence the attention of a Mobile County sheriff’s deputy.

  When I pulled the station wagon into the front yard, I found Mark talking to Annie on the front porch. They’d pulled two rockers so that they faced each other. She leaned toward him, her face filled with intensity. When I started up the steps, she stopped. Mark stood and walked toward me.

  “Could I have a moment?” he asked. “Annie tells me you saw someone in the yard last night. You should have mentioned it.” His earlier playfulness had evaporated.

  “Go inside,” I told Erin and Donald. “Tell Berta about your interview with Mr. Bailey, but don’t mention that he cursed, okay?”

  For once they didn’t argue. They banged into the house calling for their mother.

  “I wasn’t certain what I saw.” I had to tread carefully. Annie was up to something. Painting me as a fool or liar. “It was dark. Bob looked outside, but no one was there.” Behind Mark, Annie rocked slowly. She smiled at me.

  “I have to be honest, Mimi. This isn’t looking good. Sheriff Delchamps has put out a missing persons bulletin on Margo.”

  This was more serious than I’d anticipated. “And Andrew?”

  “He’s a person of interest in her disappearance.”

  I must have looked stunned because he took my elbow and walked me away from Annie. “You can’t believe Andrew took her unwillingly,” I said. “If she’s with him, she went because that’s what she wanted. It’s not like he kidnapped her. If anyone instigated this, I can assure you it was Margo.” Andrew Cargill was a bad boy, but he didn’t deserve a kidnapping charge.

  “He’s twenty and she’s sixteen.”

  “Mark, that’s not right.” The unfairness made heat jump to my face.

  “If we find them, chances are the charges won’t stick, but the Hendersons are upset and angry. Mrs.
Henderson is.…”

  He didn’t have to finish. Berta would be hysterical, and angry, and determined to make someone pay, especially the boy who’d gone off with her eldest child. “Did Annie tell you anything?”

  “Only that she was outside for a walk and didn’t see anyone or any vehicle on Shore Road but that you’d seen someone in the yard. We’d just gotten started when you drove up. Let me finish talking with her.” He motioned me toward the front door and then held it open for me. “I’ll have to talk with the other children, too.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “I’m afraid it is,” he said. “I could sure use a cup of coffee if there’s any in the kitchen.”

  I took the hint and went into the house, but I didn’t go far. I shamelessly eavesdropped as he continued his interview with Annie.

  “You were along the road. Did you hear a vehicle? Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Not really. I was looking at the stars and smelling the water. This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever lived.” She hesitated. “There was something strange, though. Banks of clouds passed over the moon, but sometimes it was bright enough to see clearly. The water shushed against the shore, like a gentle kiss. I love that sound. The last of the summer insects droned and sang. I remember the cry of an owl. But.…”

  “But what? Tell me, Annie.” Mark’s voice was gentle. He sounded truly concerned.

  “There was another sound. Like something running in the tall grass just out of sight. It followed me all the way home. I never saw anything. Do you suppose it was a fox or something wild? Or maybe someone bad.”

  I glanced through the screen and saw the mingling of sadness and fear on Annie’s face.

  “Why would someone bad follow you, Annie?” Mark asked softly.

  “Maybe I’m bad.”

  It was broad daylight, but her words frightened me. I fought the impulse to slam and lock the door. To shut her out of the house. But I didn’t want to leave her alone with Mark. Men were drawn to her. She hadn’t lied about that.

  “I doubt that. You’re just a kid. Who’s following you?” Mark kept it steady, easy, no reaction. He was better at the police work than I’d anticipated.