by G. F. Frost
It seemed the attic would be the most logical place to start. After all, it was the least dirty, then the cellar, and lastly the old barn. After dressing, Massey went into the laundry room and found a pair of Theo’s work gloves. She knew she’d need them in the barn and cellar. She stuck them in her pockets.
Thank goodness she had decided to leave the attic windows uncovered. The little single light bulb didn’t emit enough light to help her much, but she could manage. First, she pulled all the old sheets from all the covered pieces, checked their drawers, and even beneath them. She opened and reopened trunk after trunk, but didn’t find a safe inside any of them. A few times Massey would catch herself with a painting or picture or piece of old clothing that attracted her attention and she would take the time to study it.
“Gotta concentrate on the safe,” she said to herself as she blew the dust off an old silver box.
She knew that she would never get through all the stuff unless she stayed focused. One single dresser held enough books and pictures to keep her busy for a week if she let it. There were just too many interesting and lovely items to go through, and she didn’t have the time to study each one. She could do that later. She had a lifetime to do that.
Half the day had gone by before she knew it, and she hadn’t covered a third of the huge attic. She hadn’t had lunch, and she was craving some tea. Wiping her forehead, she walked out of the attic and down to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She dropped into a chair at the table.
“Whew, this is harder than I thought,” she said out loud, looking down at her dusty sweatpants.
As the kettle blew its shrill scream, Massey jumped. She was in one of those dazes where one can’t remember what they were thinking of. She ran to the kettle and turned off the flame. As she poured the boiling water over the jasmine tea bag, she thought of her dream. She remembered Marie’s small hand reaching for hers. The feeling of helplessness returned to her. She shook her head and squeezed honey into the cup of tea.
A granola bar would have to do for lunch today. Massey chewed it as she made her way back to the attic. By three that afternoon, she was sore from sitting on the rough wooden floor and rumbling through the contents of trunks and boxes. She had gone through a lot there, but no sign of the safe. She was beginning to think she was going about it all wrong.
Maybe it is a large safe, and I’m looking in all the wrong places, she thought.
Patting her dusty hands on her gray baggy pants, she rose to her feet and left the room. She would just have to start again tomorrow. It was a huge undertaking, and Massey began to realize it would take a long time. She was not a woman with much patience though. She would search as long as it took to cover every inch of the property. She wouldn’t give up.
Her stomach was beginning to growl, so she began to think of what she could make for dinner, perhaps something hearty. Once she was back in the kitchen, Massey began opening cupboards and looking in the refrigerator. She had everything she needed to make homemade soup. That sounded good. There was nothing better than soup on a cold fall evening. Theo would want meat in it, so she pulled the stew meat out of the freezer, easy enough. They would have beef and vegetable soup tonight.
The hot bowl of soup and corn bread was just what the doctor ordered. Theo and Massey sat on the sofa laughing at his favorite stupid reality show, full and happy. She had her bath before dinner, so she decided to go up to the bedroom to read the notes from her visit with Mrs. Purdue again. The circles and yellow highlighted words made the pages look as if a teacher had marked them for class. As she glanced through the notes, she stopped at the part about the locket. Mrs. Purdue’s storytelling had been so compelling that she forgot to tell her that she had the locket with the lock of hair in it that Marie always wore. She’d call her tomorrow and take it by to show her.
Laying the pages aside, Massey leaned back on the pillows. She reached for the remote control. Just as she did, the light above the bed flickered. She looked up as it flickered again, and again. Then, it went out. As she climbed out of bed to look for a bulb, she noticed something in the mirror. Once more, there was the face. Marie. She did not appear as a smudgy film in the glass any longer. She was vivid and real looking. Massey stood staring at the image in shock.
“Marie?” Massey whispered.
The woman in the mirror nodded to her and reached her hand towards Massey. Massey wanted to scream for Theo, but nothing came out. She stood frozen before the mirror as if movement would cause something dreadful to happen. Slowly, the image faded into the darkness. Massey fell to her knees and covered her eyes. She wondered again if she was losing her mind or having some sort of mid-life breakdown.
“She was there,” she said aloud. “I’m not crazy.”
The light flickered and came back on. Massey hurried down the stairs to be near Theo. She didn’t want to tell him, but she was afraid to be alone.
“You look pale,” Theo said as she walked into the room. “Are you tired?”
Massey shook her head.
The rest of the evening was long and uneasy. There weren’t any dreams that night, but she didn’t sleep very well. Late in the night, she climbed out of bed and stood in front of the mirror again. The moonlight showed her face clearly in the reflection. Marie was not there. Massey felt confused and irritated by it all. She felt that she needed to talk to someone about it, but she was nervous that they would think she’s crazy.
* * * *
The sunlight came long after Massey got out of bed the next morning. She had cooked breakfast for Theo and had his lunch packed. He was happy to have a warm plate of bacon and eggs with his coffee.
“What did I do to deserve this?” he asked as he kissed her cheek.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Massey replied.
“Oh, so it wasn’t your love for me, but your boredom that drove you?” Theo joked.
Massey smiled. She placed the large plate of food in front of her husband and sat at the table next to him. Theo reminded her that Thanksgiving was approaching and thought she might want to have something there for the family this year. Massey thought that was a wonderful idea. Theo knew she would. Her eyes sparkled as she thought about it.
“I’ll start making calls,” she said. Theo nodded.
Before Massey could make plans for Thanksgiving, she had to call Mrs. Purdue. It was too early just yet, but she would ring her later in the morning. She went into Theo’s study, borrowed a note pad from his desk, and began making her holiday list. She would cook the entire meal, and she would invite some of the neighbors and her church friends. It would be fun. She started a new list for the decorations and menu.
Just as she was finishing the guest list, Massey heard something upstairs. She laid the note pad down on the desk and looked at the ceiling listening. There it was again, singing. It was a gentle woman’s voice, light but deliberate, coming from the second floor of her house. Massey couldn’t make out the words or the tune, but she sat quietly listening. Chorus after chorus of the song continued a sweet old-fashioned song from a lovely female voice. Massey rose to her feet.
As she entered the foyer, the sound became louder. It drew Massey closer to the stairs. She knew that she hadn’t left the television or radio on. She also knew that no one was in the house but her. Stopping halfway up the staircase, she listened. The voice still echoed from above her. She slowly walked to the landing and waited. The song sounded louder than ever.
“Hello?” Massey asked shyly. “Hello, is someone there?”
The voice continued to sing.
Massey slowly made her way to the bedroom door. As soon as she placed her foot over the threshold, the singing stopped. She walked into the room and looked all around. Nothing. She gave a loud sigh and walked to the mirror. There was nothing there but her own troubled face staring back at herself. She looked confused.
“Is that you singing, Marie?” Massey said out loud. “What do you want? Is there something you’re trying to tell me?” Massey felt a bi
t silly as she spoke.
She walked up to the dark mirror and turned it around. It was facing the wall now. She didn’t want to look in the mirror anymore. Before she left the room, Massey walked to the bedroom window and looked out over the yard and into the cemetery. Mister Grant had raked away all the leaves, and it looked neat and open. She looked at the two large stones lying on the ground.
“That’s just wrong,” she said softly as she thought of the drunken farmhand kicking at the stones. Just as she spoke the words, a breeze blew leaves across the drive and over the cemetery. They settled on the headstones. Massey shook her head. She was about to leave the room as the bedroom door slammed shut. Bang! The door slammed with such a force that the windows rattled. Massey screamed. She ran to the door and opened it. It slammed again, pulling itself hard from her hand. She stepped back and away from the door. Suddenly, the knob turned slowly and the door opened as if someone were entering. She gasped. There was no one there!
Massey ran through the door as quickly as she could and looked behind her. There was no soul in sight. She ran down the stairs, through the foyer, and out the front door into the yard. Before she knew it, she was on the driveway. She turned and looked up into the bedroom window. It was dark. Her heart was pounding out of her chest.
Massey decided to sit on the steps of the house until she calmed down. Once she was able to catch her breath, she turned and walked back into the house. Going into the parlor, she picked up the picture of Joseph and Marie. She had never been so frightened, but she felt anger too. She hated the feeling that she could possibly be losing her mind. She was questioning everything.
Gathering all her strength and courage, she decided to go back to the bedroom. The trip up the stairs was horrible. Her heart began to pound again, and beads of sweat collected on her forehead and upper lip. She was determined to confront her fear.
I am a rational, intelligent woman, she thought. I am not going to let my imagination get the best of me!
As she made it to the landing, she took a deep breath, marched through the bedroom door, and into the room. She must have stood in the middle of the room for twenty minutes before walking over to the mirror. She turned it around and peered deeply into the glass.
“You’re not going to intimidate me. If you want something, let me know, otherwise, leave me alone!” she yelled. She left the mirror as it was.
* * * *
Even though the day’s events had left her shaken, Massey questioned them all. She went back downstairs and finished her lists. She was determined now to be strong, stay calm, and try to figure out what was going on, one way or another. After the lists were complete, she picked up the phone and called Mrs. Purdue. Another friendly voice answered this time. It was Mrs. Purdue’s daughter, Sandra. She put the phone down while she asked her mother about the visit, and came back telling Massey it would be fine.
Massey walked into the parlor and pulled the locket off the photograph. She locked the front door and made the drive to Mrs. Purdue’s house. Amelia wasn’t there today. She was in school, but Sandra greeted Massey and brought her iced ice and a slice of pumpkin bread. Sandra wheeled Mrs. Purdue onto the porch again. She was happy to see Massey and asked her to pull up a chair beside her.
Massey asked her about her week and made a few comments about the weather, then pulled the locket from her purse.
“This is why I’m back, Mrs. Purdue. I thought you’d like to see this,” Massey said as she handed the locket to the old woman.
“Oh, my Lord, it’s still around.” Mrs. Purdue opened the clasp.
Massey leaned over and looked into the locket with her. They both sat quietly looking at the locket for a moment.
“Wasn’t he handsome?” Mrs. Purdue said.
Massey nodded.
“You know, she grieved so hard over that baby, and then to lose him,” Mrs. Purdue whispered. “The doctor was always worried about her after that baby boy died,” she said, shaking her head as she spoke.
“I can’t imagine,” Massey replied.
“I heard that baby was as pretty as his mamma. Grandmamma said that he hardly cried at all, and when Mrs. Marie wasn’t holding him, she was rocking him in his bassinet. She wouldn’t let Grandmamma or any of the workers help her with that baby. She wanted to do it all. So sad.”
“Where is the baby buried?” Massey asked.
“Why, he’s somewhere on the grounds. I would imagine he’s in the cemetery.” Mrs. Purdue answered, still admiring the locket.
“I haven’t seen a grave,” Massey replied.
Mrs. Purdue shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, my grandmamma told us that she had to hold Mrs. Marie up at the funeral. She didn’t want to leave his graveside and stood there until everyone had left and wouldn’t come inside until the doctor carried her into the house himself,” she said reverently.
Massey looked into her glass of tea and thought. She had been into the cemetery often and had never seen the baby’s grave. She knew every name on every tombstone.
“Oh, honey, you don’t think that old piece of trash farmhand knocked down that baby’s headstone too. Do you?” Mrs. Purdue’s voice sounded shaky.
Massey just shook her head.
“I forgot to tell you that Grandmamma said that when they found Mrs. Marie dead on the bed beside her husband, Miss Totti stopped all the clocks in the house and covered every mirror. She took this locket from around Mrs. Marie’s neck, put it and her diary into a box with all her favorite things, and locked them away. She had Grandmamma tape up her wrists and dress her so that no one would ever know how she died. Grandmamma started to cry so much when she was taping her up that Jenkins had to come and finish. Momma said Jenkins did everything important. He watched over the Duseaus with endless devotion. Jenkins lived a long, long time and never married. He loved and protected Miss Totti like she was his own. He was her best friend and the hardest worker on the farm. Jenkins was big and tall and strong. I remember him when he was old, and even then, he was a handsome man. If Miss Totti went into the city, Jenkins watched her like a hawk.
“Mamma said he hunted and hunted for that sorry farmhand the night he knocked down those stones. He would have killed him if he’d found him for upsetting Miss Totti like he did. After that, Jenkins sat up almost all night every night on the porch with a gun to make Miss Totti feel safe. In fact, Mamma thought he was in love with Miss Totti, and she thought Miss Totti loved him back and that’s why she never married. Jenkins was a big and strong black man, any girl would have married him, but he never left her side. Why, he even sat outside and waited every Sunday while Miss Totti was at church. Yep, Jenkins was a good, strong, and fearless man.” Mrs. Purdue took another deep breath.
“What about Marie’s funeral?” Massey asked.
“Well, Miss Totti told everyone, including the church that Mrs. Marie died of a heart attack after seeing the doctor shot. That way Mrs. Marie had a good Christian burial. People didn’t take their own lives back then. Miss Totti never wore anything but black after that. Grandmamma said that all the darker workers on the farm had a special ceremony for the doctor and Mrs. Marie, some say it involved Voodoo, and even Miss Totti went into the woods and watched. She understood all that sort of stuff, and so did my grandmamma, but Momma never let us hear of such things when she was around.
After Grandmamma died, the Catholic and Voodoo left us, and Momma only studied the Baptist ways. So, I don’t know what they did in those woods after that funeral, but grandmamma said it was strong blessings with that Voodoo that night.” Mrs. Purdue had to stop and take a breath. She cleared her throat and sipped the tea.
Massey stared at Mrs. Purdue. She was trying to take in all she had just heard.
“All I know, honey, is that was a time different than now. Those things were real to those people and most all whites, blacks, Creoles, and Indians from around here used the magic somehow, and there‘s probably still some of that old magic hangin’ around this river and thes
e woods, probably a lot still hangin’ around Lovesong House, I would imagine. Miss Totti called on priestesses all the time, and when they were not available, Grandmamma had to do. Forgive me, Momma,” she said as she looked up towards the ceiling.
Massey had to smile. She spent the rest of the afternoon with Mrs. Purdue and Sandra talking and laughing about different things. She heard a lot of local gossip and a lot of funny stories. Before she left Sandra had even written down the recipe for the pumpkin bread, and Massey planned to bake it for her Thanksgiving party. She just loved spending time with Mrs. Purdue. She didn’t want to leave, but it was getting cold, and she had to start dinner for Theo.
Chapter Seven
Massey arrived at Lovesong House before she knew it, and she ran into the study to write down everything she could remember from the visit. Grabbing steaks from the freezer, Massey tossed them into a sink of hot water and put potatoes into the oven to bake. That would have to do tonight.
Just before dark, she walked out to the little cemetery and opened the gate. She stood in front of Joseph’s grave and looked around. Taking her foot, she rubbed it along the ground all around his grave and then Marie’s. There was no tombstone for the baby. She walked all around the cemetery, kicking away the leaves. The cold was settling in and she felt the icy breeze on her ears. There was no grave.
Later, Theo fired up the grill on the brick patio as Massey tossed a salad. She didn’t mention her visit to Mrs. Purdue’s house to him. The secret made her feel a bit guilty, but she knew Theo would worry. He thought all the history of the place was working on Massey’s imagination, and she didn’t want to upset him. He never fussed, but his silence was just as bad.
Before dinner was over, a knock came at the door.
“I’ll get this one,” Theo said with a smile.
Massey had the feeling he was up to something by the look on his face. She stood and followed him to the door. It was Mister Grant.