Darkling

by R. B. Chesterton

  He brightened instantly. Anything outdoors was always preferable to inside.

  Cora turned around in the doorway. “Mimi, don’t leave the yard, okay?”

  I stopped in my tracks. “Why not?”

  “We’re all on edge. Stay where Berta can find you.”

  “Sure thing.” As I walked down the hall to the front door, I wondered if she was worried about Donald, or if she was concerned that I couldn’t be trusted to take care of Donald. It was a bitter question to contemplate.

  “Mimi, come on!” Donald rushed down the front steps and into the yard. “Let’s go to the old hotel. Daddy said the work crew was starting there next Monday. Let’s go before they tear everything out. I brought Mom’s camera so we could make pictures of things before they get torn down.”

  Bob hadn’t mentioned that the crews would begin so quickly. I knew his plans were moving along well, but this was a big step. He’d become less talkative about his work on the Paradise, probably because Berta no longer supported it. She wanted to leave Alabama, and she’d begun to view the Paradise as competition for her husband’s affections. Margo’s death was fertile ground for two disparate ambitions to sprout.

  “Quit dragging your feet!” Donald yelled. He didn’t wait for me to respond. He was gone, running across the lawn to the trail that went through the woods to the Paradise. I followed at a stroll, deliberately disregarding Cora’s request to stay on the Belle Fleur grounds. I was angry and hurting and determined not to yield to anyone else’s wishes, especially if it seemed that I was being viewed as unreliable or damaged. Not when Annie traipsed around as if she were a queen, everyone bowing and scraping to her. That Cora did it too hurt the most.

  Up ahead I caught a brief glimpse of Donald running by a wall of scuppernong vines that shaded from forest green to apple with yellow mixed in, a pointillist vision come to life. He wore a burgundy jacket and a yellow cap that advertised treated wood products. Bob had given it to him, and he loved it on his closely cropped head.

  Soon enough he’d notice the long hair on the boys around town. Fashion trends moved into Coden at a snail’s pace, but the longhair boys had been driving school authorities crazy since the late ’60s. Even Bob’s hair was a little longer, a la Robert Redford. Donald kept his short, but that would change when he realized that girls preferred the longer style.

  I mused about some of my high school friends as I walked. Scottie Logan didn’t earn a diploma, but he had hair down to his waist. Nice hair, a honey brown as thick and shiny as any girl’s. I’d seen him in the five and dime store in Tillmans Corner only the week before. We said hello, but there was no common ground for conversation. Brady McCant’s carrot top was a thicket of curls. He’d driven his truck past the Esso station while I was filling the station wagon with gas. If Brady could straighten his curls, his hair might reach to his knees.

  Because of his work, Mark’s hair had been short. But in high school, it had been a glossy black, cut like David Cassidy’s, that same, luxuriant weight. If I thought hard enough, I could almost feel my flingers gliding through it.

  Passing the cemetery, I glanced at Margo’s grave. The stone marker had already been erected. Bob hadn’t mentioned it, which probably meant that Berta disapproved. If they moved back to California, I wondered if they’d disinter Margo and move her, too.

  The old wrought-iron gate creaked as I walked in to get a better look at the beautiful monument. A stone bench centered the arch that was elaborately carved with ivy vines and what looked like wisteria flowers. The words “Margo, Beloved Daughter of Robert and Berta Henderson” were centered at the top of the arch. Below that was “She graced our lives for sixteen years, a span too short.” And then the dates of her birth and death. The coroner had listed the date of her disappearance as her death date. Fact or simply a kindness, I couldn’t say.

  Even though Donald would be expecting me, I took a seat on the bench. The bright afternoon sun warmed my shoulders. Ten minutes alone wouldn’t hurt anything. This was a fitting place to think about Mark. My claim on him was a romantic fumbling that felt diminished by my hesitation, my unwillingness to commit to a real relationship. I was such a coward, hiding from his family, because I knew they wondered why he’d put me safely out of his car and then died. Maybe it was all my imagination. Maybe I was the only person who asked that question, but I did.

  The creaking of the gate pulled me out of my thoughts. The view of the entrance was blocked by statuary. I looked around the angel that marked Sigourney’s grave, expecting an impatient Donald. Fear laced my gut into a tight knot.

  The nester stood at the cemetery entrance, blocking my way. When I stepped toward it, it didn’t retreat. Blood dripped from an open gash on the creature’s wrist. The amorphous features seemed to swirl, a fetus going through the stages of embryonic development. It grew taller, thinner. Paralyzed by fear, I didn’t move. I watched the transmogrification. Fish, sheep, beast, until at last the bones lengthened and the visage of Berta emerged.

  “No!”

  “She won’t last long now,” the creature said before it darted away, running on back paws and hands, taking the same path Donald had run down earlier.

  “Donald!” I cried his name as I started to run. It was only when I glanced at the tombstone over Chloe’s grave that I saw the fresh blood and the writing.

  “Mimi.” My name was scrawled across the gray marble in red.

  But there was no time to investigate. I had to get to Donald before the nester did—if I was not too late already. I knew the game now. It would kill Donald and push Berta over the edge of sanity.

  52

  I arrived at the Paradise breathless and panicked. Though I fought to compose myself, I couldn’t calm the images that sliced through my mind. Donald alone with the nester. Donald running for his life. Donald captured in the grip of a malevolent creature that could snap his neck or drown him. I wanted to call out to Donald, but I had only the element of surprise to assist me. I’d seen the nester run and jump. It had far superior strength to mine.

  Afternoon sunlight slanted across the front of the hotel, basting the columns and steps in a deceptive golden glow. I climbed the marble steps where I’d sat the night of the scavenger hunt and scanned the shoreline as far as I could see. A clear blue sky met calm water. Saw-grass rippled in a teasing wind. The shore was empty. Where had Donald gone? I abandoned the stairs and went into the skeleton of the building. Scuppernong and honeysuckle had twined around the columns, and I thought of Margo’s gravestone, so elegant in design.

  There wasn’t much left of the hotel. The foundation was still good, and I wandered into what would have once been an elegant lobby. Piles of rubble and debris had been pushed to the front of the slab. Bob was clearing out the old to make way for his dream. But where was Donald?

  I moved cautiously, easing from one column to the next, trying to make my way as stealthily as possible while looking for a small boy who had no idea his life was in danger. I should never have let him get away from me. Cora had warned me to stay on the grounds of Belle Fleur, but in my hurt and anger at her, I’d disobeyed. If anything happened to Donald, it would be my fault. It was always my fault.

  I found no trace of the child in the lobby area, so I moved along the ruins, hoping for a glimpse of his burgundy jacket or bright yellow cap. With each passing minute, my fear grew. I was about to give up when I heard the soft murmur of conversation. Donald was talking to someone. Surely not the nester. Donald wouldn’t be fooled into thinking the vile creature was his mother. He wouldn’t talk to the thing that meant to kill him! I eased toward the voices.

  “How many rooms will there be?” Donald asked.

  “Initially, about a hundred.” Bob’s calm voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “When will you be finished?”

  “Hard to tell. I’ve got a couple of projects in Mobile that are must-do. But the crews will work here when we can and on weekends. The investors are committed. The Paradise is goin
g to be a showcase for me.” Bob laughed. “I’ve dreamed about this a long time, Donald. It’s good to finally start.”

  “Mom doesn’t want to stay here.” Donald sounded so sad. “She said if you wouldn’t go with her, she’d leave you here.”

  “She’s upset.”

  “She doesn’t want me to do anything.” Donald hesitated. “She doesn’t want Erin to ride Cogar.”

  “She’s only worried, Donald. Give her a chance to get her feet under her.”

  I finally saw them behind the hotel at the swimming pool. Stagnant water had filled the bottom of the pool. Dark green and slimy looking, the water rippled as Donald tossed a rock into it. Bob knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Your mother needs time to get over what happened to Margo. It’s hard for a mother to lose a child. It’s not the normal order of life.”

  “She can’t keep us in the house all the time,” Donald said. He tossed another rock.

  “She’ll ease up as time passes.”

  “She’s going to leave here.”

  Bob tried to comfort Donald, but the child pulled away. “She is, Dad. She said she’d give you until Christmas, and if you wouldn’t go back to California then, she would take us and go without you.”

  “She doesn’t mean that, Donald.”

  Donald hunched his shoulders. “Oh, yes, she does. She means it. She’s going back to California, and she’s going to make me go with her. She has some man looking for a house to buy back where we used to live.”

  The force of his anguish made me catch my breath.

  “That won’t happen, Donald.” Bob was calm. He put his arms around his son. “Everything will be fine.”

  There was nothing I could add to the scene, so I eased back. Donald was safe with his father. The nester wouldn’t take on Bob. My place was back at Belle Fleur. I had to make Berta understand how torn up Donald was, how worried. Maybe I could talk to her and show her what was at stake.

  On the way back to Belle Fleur, I detoured to go by the stables. Just as I suspected, Erin was riding Cogar. The big gray sailed over jumps that were nearly as tall as I was. Erin ignored me at the rail. She concentrated on the pattern of the jumps.

  “Nice job,” I said, when she finished a round.

  “Tell it to my mother.”

  She wasn’t in the mood to listen to explanations or reasons. “Be careful, Erin. Your mother—”

  “Is my mother! Stay out of family business.” She rode out of the arena and set Cogar into a canter as she headed into the woods toward Crystal Mirror Lake.

  Four months earlier, her conduct would have cut me to the bone. I didn’t expect better now. I was a hired tutor, a governess who “lived in.” Erin had made that perfectly clear. And perhaps she was right. If the Hendersons left Coden, I would apply to teach at the local high school. They would have hired me for this year, had Cora not urged me to take the job at Belle Fleur.

  Walking to the house, I thought about my life away from the family. At Belle Fleur, I was isolated from everyone my age. I’d lost touch with friends in Coden. I had no professional stimulation from others in my field. It would be sad to see the promise the Henderson family brought to Coden leave with them, but it wouldn’t be completely bad for me. It wasn’t as if they were really my family, abandoning me.

  I chose the back door and entered the house. Silence owned the first floor, and I wondered where Cora had gone. When I checked in the front yard, I discovered her car was missing. She’d gone home.

  But where was Annie?

  I went upstairs. It felt peculiar to be on the third floor, because I’d come to view it as Annie’s domain, the enemy camp. Not that I was above spying. I did it on a regular basis when I knew Annie was away. The problem was that I had no idea where she was. She could be in her room or she could have gone somewhere with Cora. I didn’t care where she was as long as I didn’t get caught snooping.

  At her door, I hesitated, then knocked lightly. There was no response, so I eased the door open. Annie had closed her windows, and the gauzy fabrics hung limp. I checked the bed to be sure she wasn’t playing possum. The night of the scavenger hunt came back to me. Bob had betrayed Berta that night. Things had begun to change at Belle Fleur.

  I’d searched Annie’s room numerous times and found only the photo album she kept in her suitcase. I pulled it from the closet and again went through it. The pearl necklace was missing from the jeweler’s box where it had rested. I didn’t care enough to search for it. The photos were what I wanted.

  I went to the window and opened the album. Belle Fleur, newly painted and beautiful, was front and center. The small family standing in front had to be Henri, Sigourney, and the elfin Chloe. She was probably Donald’s age, but small. Even at the beginning of her time at Belle Fleur, she looked tentative.

  I turned the page and studied Henri. He wore his weakness in his face. Not so with Sigourney. Proud, defiant, determined to have her way. The edge of cruelty touched her lips. Even from the photo she spoke to me.

  Flipping back and forth, I hunted for evidence of Chloe’s pregnancy. The photos covered a span of maybe eight years. The shrubs and trees around Belle Fleur grew and thrived. Not so with Chloe. She diminished, almost fading into the background of the photos. I knew what that felt like—to be only background for someone else’s dreams and ambitions. Everything she’d ever loved had been taken from her.

  When I looked out the window, I noticed Cora turning back down the driveway as Bob and Donald came out of the woods. Bob had his hand on Donald’s shoulder, and it made my heart swell to see that Bob, at last, was tending to his son’s needs. A movement to Bob’s left, just at the edge of a stand of live oaks and less than thirty yards from the trail they walked, caught my eye.

  The woods were full of squirrels and deer, sometimes wild turkey. The crisp fall weather had brought them out to forage. I’d always love the wildlife, but now, any unexpected movement made me wary. Bob and Donald continued to walk and Cora’s car eased down the driveway. Everything was normal. We’d had a good day, with the exception of Erin’s outbreak. Things were better. Steady.

  The nester stepped out of the treeline. The royal blue silk shirt it wore belonged to Berta. Blond hair cut at the shoulders glowed in the late afternoon sunlight. The creature stood perfectly still, staring up at me in Annie’s window, as Bob and Donald made it safely to the front porch and Cora got out of the car to walk in with them.

  I wanted to scream at the creature, to make Bob see it, but I knew the moment I opened my mouth, it would disappear. And I would be revealed as invading Annie’s room. I held up one hand. The nester mocked me by holding up a hand smeared with red. From the distance of the window, I couldn’t be certain, but it looked like blood. The creature smiled, snapped the air with vicious teeth, and leaped back into the woods.

  I put away the photos and the suitcase and slipped out of Annie’s room. I met her on the stairs, her face pinked with wind.

  “Were you in my room?” she asked.

  “Of course not. I went up to look for you. I knocked and you didn’t answer so I was leaving.” I wanted to go outside to hunt for the creature, but she grabbed my arm.

  “What do you want?”

  There was no one to hear my answer. “I want you to leave Belle Fleur.”

  “I’m not the problem, Mimi.”

  “To hell you aren’t.” I matched her stare. With everyone else I had to play a role, but I wanted Annie to know I was on to her. “Ever since you came here there’s been nothing but tragedy.”

  “You’re upset over Mark.”

  I couldn’t be certain, but I thought a smile of victory passed across her lips. I wanted to smack her so hard she tumbled backwards down the stairs.

  “I’m going to bust you, Annie. If it’s the last thing I do. So let’s go downstairs and pretend that we never had this conversation.”

  Annie brushed past me. “I’ll be down in a moment, after I wash up.”

  My heart thud
ded as I descended to the first floor. A pot of coffee was in order. And some pumpkin or apple pie. Maybe both.

  The front door opened and Donald came rushing into the kitchen.

  “Dad wants some of our pumpkin pie,” he said.

  “I’ll make some coffee. Let’s play Monopoly.”

  “Yes!” Donald danced and jiggled as he shook off his jacket. “We haven’t played a game in a long time.”

  I turned the gas on under the pot of water and spooned the coffee into the pot. “Where’s Cora?” I asked.

  “Talking to Dad.”

  “Oh, really.” I crossed the room and glanced down the hall to the front door. Cora and Bob were deep in conversation. Cora glanced in at me and put a hand on Bob’s shoulder. They both came inside, smiling.

  “Donald says you have homemade pumpkin pie,” Bob said. “I’ll have a big slice.”

  “Me, too.” Cora gave me a hug. “Mimi makes the best pie crust.”

  “Let me get Berta.” Bob excused himself and went down the short hallway to the master suite. I cut slices of pie for all of us and put them on saucers. Maybe Berta would come play with us.

  As I lifted the pot to poor the hot water into the dripolater, a cry of outrage and alarm stopped me. My gaze swept the room. Cora and Donald were fine.

  “Call an ambulance!” Bob came out of his bedroom. “Call an ambulance. Hurry!”

  He carried Berta in his arms. They were both soaked, and water poured from him. For one mad second, I thought he was melting. It took me a moment to register the red stain that swirled down Bob’s khakis and dripped from Berta’s fingertips. Her blood mingled with the water and fell to the floor.

  “Sweet Jesus.” Cora rushed toward them and assisted Bob in putting Berta on the floor. “Mimi, call for an ambulance! Now!” She grasped Berta’s wrist and wrapped it in a dishcloth she held.

  The crack of her voice galvanized me into action. I grabbed Donald and tore him away from the awful scene. I held him pressed to my belly as I dialed the operator and got emergency help. It would take an ambulance at least half an hour to get here.