Darkling

by R. B. Chesterton

  “I know.” I sighed and snuggled against him as he drove. I closed my eyes and tried to forget Belle Fleur.

  We were still several miles from Coden. On both sides of the road, dense pines stretched into blackness. Mark pulled off the road onto a narrow path that led into the woods. He killed the motor and turned to me.

  Our make-out sessions had grown increasingly intense. Still, I resisted going all the way. There was no opportunity at the Hendersons, but here, alone in the woods, Mark pressed me. I pushed away.

  “I should get home.” I liked kissing Mark, but that was as far as I wanted to take it.

  Mark blew out a breath, but he straightened up. His arm was still draped over my shoulders. “I don’t understand, Mimi. You seem to like me.”

  “I do.” How could I explain what I didn’t understand? “I don’t know what I feel about this. It scares me, Mark. I’m not ready. Please take me home.”

  “It’s only ten o’clock.” He pulled a stick of gum from his shirt pocket and offered it to me. I unwrapped it while he did the same with another. “You’re a college graduate, Mimi. Surely the Hendersons don’t have a curfew on you.”

  “No. They don’t. It’s that Bob has no one to help him with the children. I have to go home. Now.”

  He removed his arm and started the car. “Belle Fleur isn’t your home, Mimi, but I’ll take you back to the Hendersons.”

  It angered me that I felt pressed to explain my actions. “You shouldn’t punish me because I’m responsible. Bob and the children have no one to turn to but me. This will pass, Mark. Berta will get over this. Right now, though, I have to shoulder this burden.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re the hired tutor, not a family member. Take this on if you must, but at least recognize it’s a choice.”

  “I try hard to be a good person, to do the right thing, and no one sees that. Annie is a little beast, and everyone thinks she’s perfect.” No matter how hard I tried, I always fell short of what was expected of me.

  “Sorry. I’m behaving like an ass.” He caught my hand and raised it to his lips. “I’ve been looking forward to this evening.”

  The tension eased. “Me, too. I’m sorry I’m acting all weird, but I miss Margo, too. It’s just a rough patch until she comes home.”

  “Maybe we can play some putt-putt. The course over in Biloxi is fun.”

  I just wanted him to take me home. Something niggled at me, a darkness that blotted out the pleasure of Mark’s company. “That would be fun,” I said automatically.

  As he pulled out onto the road, I caught a glimpse of a deer in the headlights. The doe bolted, zagging left, then right as if something deadly trailed her. It didn’t seem like a good omen to me.

  Erin moved her belongings to a small bedroom at the far end of the second floor. She’d never wanted that room, because it was removed from the rest of the second floor down a narrow hallway. The room had a lovely view of the Sound, though, and a huge oak tree grew right beside it, offering shade in the heat of the summer. She seemed to thrive at Coden Middle School, and she was making friends. Donald had adjusted, but Berta seemed to grow more distant. I tried everything I knew. Cora stopped by regularly, but none of us could shake Berta from her lethargy. When Bob began to talk about possible medical intervention, I knew something had to be done, and quickly. Berta’s absence, emotional and physical, was pushing Bob to the brink of a tragic decision. Unless things changed, the family would collapse. Bob would take them all back to California if Berta didn’t pull herself together.

  I paced my bedroom at night trying to think of remedies, and bad dreams disrupted my sleep. I heard creaks and noises, and I found myself patrolling the second floor of the house, checking on Donald and then Erin, watching them sleep, then quietly slipping downstairs to stand outside Bob and Berta’s bedroom. Dr. Adams had given Berta something to sleep, and it knocked her out as effectively as a tire tool to the head.

  As for me, I dreaded sleep. The unidentified hand crept into my dreams, an artifact like a saint’s shriveled appendage kept in a box. Nightmare imaginings of the blow that severed the hand, the screams and blood—none of it real—tormented me. Annie, too, was restless. On more than one occasion I caught her slipping around the house. She said she heard things, strange noises. My distrust of her grew.

  It was a cool morning in late September when I went to the local hardware store to pick up a faucet for the watering trough. It was a simple matter for Bob to replace it, but I thought I’d surprise him by having all the parts ready.

  I was exploring the different faucets when I overheard Mrs. Waylon and her husband whispering at the register.

  “I don’t know what’s going on at Belle Fleur, but it’s like the mother disappeared from the face of the earth. We never see Bob Henderson without that girl. She’s like his shadow, and I can tell you if some teenage girl started following you around like that, Vernon Waylon, I’d put a stop to it.”

  The picture they painted took my breath away. Annie had become Bob’s little helper, in a way that was drawing attention from the community, not just me They were always together. People had noticed.

  “Now, Bell, don’t be jumping to conclusions,” Vernon said, but without conviction. “The girl’s an orphan. Maybe she’s just attached to someone who showed her a little kindness.”

  “She comes in here, never speaks. She’s not natural,” Bell insisted. “And she may be a teenager, but she looks like a young woman. Berta Henderson had best get over her grief and tend to her family—before she loses it.”

  The community gossip forced me to acknowledge what I knew but had been unwilling to really confront. The weeks of good food had rounded Annie’s curves. She was no longer the knobby-kneed teen, but a young woman whose body now could be called lush. I dropped the faucet I’d selected and left the store before they saw me.

  For a long time I sat beside the small bayou under the bridge. I thought at first to confront Bob with the gossip, but I realized that wouldn’t work, and it might plant a dangerous seed. No, I was going to have to do something.

  One Wednesday evening, I left the Hendersons and went to spend some time with Cora. The disappearance of Margo had hurt her, too. I brought her some carrot cake Annie had baked, a delicious treat. Annie turned out to be quite the cook. She could remember exactly how to prepare a complicated recipe, but she had no inkling of her past. Or so she claimed. Now, I doubted everything about her.

  I’d done a little research on amnesia at the library and had come to consider Annie’s lapse as more convenient memory than true memory loss. I intended to talk to Cora about it.

  The days and nights were still hot as hell, and instead of the porch, where mosquitoes as big as crows buzzed around our heads, we went inside to her cozy living room. She sampled the cake with a wide smile. “Delicious. I’m glad to see Annie has found a niche in the Henderson house. I hope she’s a help to you.”

  “Have you given up?” I asked. “On finding Annie’s family?”

  Cora looked surprised. “It hasn’t been a high priority. Why? Is she making trouble for Bob or Berta?”

  I shook my head. I’d decided not to broach the issue of Annie’s conduct with Bob, her constant bird-dogging of his every move. It was better to take a different tack. “It’s just that we’re so sad there. I know Annie’s suffered and now she lives in a house where everyone tiptoes or whispers. She may not remember the details of her past life, but she’s surely got some kind of family. She’s been well schooled. And she can cook and clean. Someone spent time with her. I thought it might be happier for her if we could find her home.” I could be manipulative, too.

  Cora smoothed the crocheted doily on the arm of the sofa. “What’s wrong, Mimi? What is Annie doing that upsets you?”

  “My concern is for Annie. The house is sad. Berta is distraught and stays in her room. Erin is going to public school, and there’s only me and Donald.” I’d underestimated Cora’s astuteness, but I had no choice but to
press on.

  Cora was nobody’s fool. “And Bob. How is he holding up?”

  “Fine.” I said the word too sharply. “He’s exhausted. Sometimes he drinks at night, after Berta is asleep. His judgment is impaired.” What I didn’t say was that Annie was often with him when he drank. If I listened at the door of his study, I often heard them whispering.

  “I see.” Cora assessed me. “I’ll renew my efforts to find out about Annie’s past.”

  “It would be for the best, Cora. For her and the family.”

  “When I saw Bob recently, he mentioned what a help Annie was. He said he couldn’t get along without her. She’s just sixteen, Mimi. She’s still a child. I had really hoped the two of you would become close, that you would help each other.”

  I met her gaze directly. “She’s no help to me. I don’t want her at Belle Fleur. She doesn’t belong.”

  “If there’s something more you want to tell me.…”

  I shook my head. I’d said enough.

  19

  Driving back to Belle Fleur, I thought about what I’d done. When she’d first arrived at the Hendersons, I’d been willing to welcome her. Now, though, I viewed her as a danger. She scared the children, and worse than that, she had set her sights on Bob. She was capable of managing on her own—a fact she’d demonstrated. She was sixteen and mature for her age. Too mature. She had to find a home or a husband of her own. Not Belle Fleur and not Bob Henderson.

  The night was crystal-clear. A tropical storm had surged through the day before and left the air clear and the water calm and gentle. For the first time I thought I could smell fall in the air, though I knew we had at least five more weeks of hot temperatures. Summer in South Alabama extended from the first of May until the end of October.

  I slowed the car, Berta’s sporty Thunderbird convertible, as I drove along Shore Road. For the most part I drove the station wagon, but Bob had asked me to take Berta’s car since it hadn’t been driven for weeks. I loved the sounds of the water at night all around me in the open car. The gulls were silent, but there were other birds out. Night birds. Owls and hawks. Predators.

  On my right, marsh grass ran down to the edge of the water, a rippling field of silver-tasseled green in the moonlight. To the left, the long blades of the cruel saw-grass led to the dark embrace of the woods. Above was the spangled sky, and I stopped the car to examine the constellations. Now that fall was approaching, astronomy would be fun for Donald and Erin. I wasn’t nearly the storyteller Annie was, but I loved the legends of the Seven Sisters and Orion, who pursued the sisters across the night sky.

  A bit of poetry from Hesiod came to mind. “And if longing seizes you for sailing the stormy seas, when the Pleiades flee mighty Orion and plunge into the misty deep and all the gusty winds are raging, then do not keep your ship on the wine-dark sea but, as I bid you, remember to work the land.”

  It was time to reconnect Erin and Donald with a structured fabric of life. While the house had not returned to normal—would never until Margo’s disappearance was resolved—it was incumbent upon me to try to put things to right as much as possible. To that end, lessons would bind us. We could invite Bob to join us in a star search. And a bird-watching adventure. We could explore the architectural details of the Paradise Inn, and maybe do a book of pressed leaves and flowers for botany. Maybe Berta would like that.

  Excited by the prospect, I put the car in gear and pressed a bit too hard on the gas. The powerful sports car lurched forward. To my horror, a young girl stood directly in front of the car. She’d come out of nowhere. I hadn’t seen or heard her approach. I slammed on the brakes, sending the car into a sideways slide in the loose gravel of the road.

  For several seconds I fought to hold the car from slipping into the marsh on one side or the ditch on the other. When at last I brought it to a halt, I’d spun in a complete circle. Had I hit her? I hadn’t felt anything bump beneath the wheels.

  Shaking, I got out of the car and leaned against the door. In the moonlight, the road was empty in both directions. Feeling queasy, I looked beneath the car, expecting to find a crumpled body.

  Nothing.

  I stood up and calmed my thudding heart. I’d seen her. Where had she gone? I looked around the car and finally got a flashlight from the glove box. The tire marks were clear in the road where I’d slid. It was easy to find the place I’d slammed on brakes. From there I tracked east twenty feet.

  In the glow of the light, I saw disturbed earth. Not footprints. Not a sign of a dark-haired girl. Instead, there were claw marks where something wild had dug up the road in an attempt to avoid being struck by the car.

  Some six feet distant, just at the edge of the ditch, I found more claw marks that led to the waist-high saw-grass. Shining the light, I picked up two yellow eyes nearly fifty yards away. They stared at me, and then came a horrible high-pitched giggle. The eyes disappeared.

  20

  That night I slept in fits, and when I woke up I had an agenda. It was a school day, so Erin ate the breakfast Annie cooked and went to catch the bus that trundled down Shore Road just for her. Bob offered—each morning—to drive her on his way to Mobile, but she liked the bus. It gave her an opportunity to laugh and gossip before classes began. The one bright spot in the household was to hear her on the telephone, conspiring with her new buddies.

  Bob left for work, and I set Donald to a page of percentages. He was particularly bright at math and enjoyed working the problems. I went to the kitchen and dried the dishes Annie had washed.

  “Would you take the car into town and get some fresh squash and turnips?” I asked Annie. “There’s a pork roast in the refrigerator and I want some vegetables for supper.”

  “Why don’t you go?” Annie assessed me, as if she could read something ulterior behind my request. Or perhaps my guilt only made it seem so. “I don’t have a driver’s license,” she reminded me.

  “I could, but I thought you might enjoy being in town without the rest of us. Nobody in Coden is going to bother you unless you do something stupid like speed. Bob went to a lot of trouble to make sure you could drive. He’d be disappointed to know you wouldn’t help me.” I let that sink in.

  “Okay.” She dropped the dishcloth and palmed the keys from a peg by the door.

  I gave her five dollars from the stash in the canister Berta kept for incidentals. “For Bob’s sake, you should get a license.” It was odd that Annie never cared about driving. Margo had been wild to get behind the wheel and gain her freedom.

  “Bob has a lot more on his mind than a silly driver’s license. He’ll get to it when the time is right.” She jammed the money in her pocket and headed outside.

  From behind the front door, I watched as she eased out the driveway toward town. When she was gone I went to Berta’s room and knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  I felt like I was entering a sick chamber. Berta sat in a chair by the window where she could see the water. She still wore her nightgown, likely the same one she’d had on for several days. It had been four weeks since Margo’s disappearance. Each day, Berta called the sheriff’s office and was told the same thing—no leads, no news.

  I didn’t ask permission. I went in the bathroom and drew water in the tub. “Get up, Berta.”

  “I’m tired. I don’t feel like dressing.”

  “I know.” I grasped her wrist not so gently and pulled her to her feet. My strength surprised us both. “You have two other children and a husband. Go clean up. When Bob comes home tonight, he’s going to find his family waiting for him.”

  A cry broke from her. “Not his family! Not! His! Family!” She tried to pull free of me, but I restrained her. “Not Margo!”

  When she crumpled, I held her on her feet. I gave her several moments, but then I shook her lightly. “Stand up!” I shook harder. “Stand up! You’re going to lose everything if you don’t pull yourself together.”

  Her pale gaze searched my face, and I knew she thought
I’d turned into a monster. “You’re very cruel, Mimi. I had no idea you could be so hard.”

  My hand itched to slap some sense into her, but I merely dragged her to the bathroom. “Margo is gone, and we don’t stand a chance of finding her unless we start looking.” I pulled the gown over her head and nudged her toward the bathtub. “Get in.”

  She did as I told her because I’d frightened her.

  “You’re going to get cleaned up. We’ll take matters into our own hands.” I’d hatched a plot during my sleepless night. “The cops aren’t looking any longer.” Mark had told me as much. Mark hadn’t given up. On Margo or me. He called almost every day to talk about his efforts to find the missing girl. Unwilling to risk another argument about my duties at Belle Fleur, I kept him at a distance. I missed him. At night I longed for his kisses, his touch, the safety of his arms. But I couldn’t choose him over my family. My adopted family.

  Mark continued to chase leads and follow up on reported sightings of the teenagers, but to the sheriff Margo was a spoiled kid who’d run away with the town’s bad boy. The severed hand had never been connected to Andrew’s disappearance, and all efforts to find the body missing a hand had failed.

  “What can we do?” Berta sounded like a lost child.

  “We’ll hire a private investigator and start our own search. Someone devoted only to finding Margo.”

  “A private detective?” Hope sounded in Berta’s voice.

  “Yes. A good one.” He could search for Margo, but I also had something for him to do. Annie. Where had she come from, what was her past? I had to know. The incident on Shore Road the night before had left me almost paralyzed with fear and dread. Somehow, all the strange things that had happened—continued to happen—at Belle Fleur were connected to Annie. Life at Belle Fleur had been paradise before Annie showed up on the doorstep. Patterns were emerging, and Annie was at the center of them.