The Hidden Room

by C S Joseph

  “So, in a couple of months this will be all over?” Reese asked.

  “It’s possible. The state is a party to your marriage. A judge must have a say in its dissolution. He is entitled to a very minimal amount of child support. You make more than he does, but you’ll also have Zachary more of the time. Richard told me that it will be about one hundred dollars a month.”

  “Ha, what is the point of that?” Julia asked flippantly. Helena gave her a look, and Julia became serious again. “Sorry. Marriage is not something I understand. Isn’t it supposed to be about love, rainbows, and unicorns?”

  Helena looked at her again. “Marriage isn’t just about love. It’s a business proposition. It has been since it was conceived. Love is a wonderful thing. Once you have it, you should always try to hold on to it. Never mistake passion for love. Passion can fade over time. Situations and hard times take their toll on passion. Love, on the other hand, takes those hard times and works through them. If you keep that in mind, I have faith that your relationship will last as mine did with my husband.”

  There was a loud slam above their heads. Soon, the sound of feet coming down the stairs could be heard. Helena looked over, just as Zachary came into the kitchen. “Morning Mom and Grand-mère. Hey Jules, what are we gonna do today?”

  “I dunno yet, bud. Let’s talk about it over breakfast.”

  †

  There was a knock at the door. Reese walked over and was met with a tall, attractive woman holding up a badge. Standing next to her was a short, round Hispanic man. He, too, was holding a badge. “I’m Detective Sharon Farley. This is my partner.”

  “I’m Detective Ricardo Mendoza, ma’am. We are here to follow up about what you found in the yard.”

  “Yes, please come in.” She ushered them inside. “Please excuse the mess. We are in the middle of a renovation.” They walked in and looked around. Reese offered them a seat in the dining room. She was a kind host and offered them some beverage options. Soon the three of them were talking about the journals. Detective Farley’s long, blond hair shone where it fell over her dark blazer jacket. Every so often, she would jot something down on a small notepad.

  The realization washed over Reese; this really happened. This was someone’s life. These were actual detectives sitting at her table. This wasn’t a story that she’d invested herself in by reading fictional words on a page. She briefly thought about her latest manuscript. That was a completely made up story. This story was real. She felt connected to Clara and Emma. She worried for them and for Grace, even knowing that she survived. Arthur was an evil man. That poor young girl was raised by a villain.

  At the end of her story, Reese looked at the two detectives expectantly. The room was silent for a moment.

  “Ma’am, that is a fascinating story,” Detective Mendoza said. ”I appreciate the detail. However, I want to warn you here, please don’t expect all the answers that you are looking for. This happened a long time ago. There isn’t anyone we can really talk to or track down.” He looked at his notepad. “Arthur Dumas likely died long ago. We can see if he has any living relatives.”

  Detective Farley spoke up next. “Ms. Iverson, you said that he was an architect. We can start there. Look for old records. This will be a lot of research. But we will investigate this as far as we can. We understand that you want to make sure Clara can be laid to rest in a proper grave.”

  “We do have some information on Joan Foster. She’s the great-granddaughter of Clara. She might want to properly bury her kin.” Reese showed them the address. They wrote it into their notebooks.

  “Thank you, both. I appreciate you stopping by.” They both thanked her for the drinks and she walked them back to the door. Closing it behind them, she stood in the foyer for a few moments. She returned to her mother and Julia in the kitchen. “They will never contact us again. They’ll go and talk to Joan and see if she wants to give a proper burial for those bones. The case will be closed.”

  “Darling, I think that you and Julia should find Joan and give her the journals.” Helena smiled. “She should have the journals. Maybe she can tell you about Grace. She got married and carried children. It must have been difficult being without her mother, but she seems to have still lived her life.” Reese looked at her mother. Julia looked down at the papers.

  “Grace died in 2012. So, she would have been what, ninety-three when she died? She lived a long life. There is a chance that Joan knew her and could tell us a little bit about her.” They agreed to make the trip and Helena would look after Zachary.

  †

  The drive into Portland was filled with conversations about Clara and Emma, as well as how Reese was coming along with her final edits for her latest book. Julia’s phone told her to take a few more turns, until the voice finally said they had reached their destination. Julia parked and turned off the car. Reese looked up at a small, blue house. A bench swing hung from one side of the porch, and potted plants climbed the few steps to the front door, which was painted dark grey. They exited the car, and Reese grabbed the bag full of journals.

  A small dog started barking in response to their knock at the door. They heard the latch before the door swung open. A tall, thin woman stood there before them. “Joan Foster?”

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, I’m Reese Iverson. This might sound a little strange, but I recently bought a house out near Prineville. I started renovations and found a cellar that was full of journals. I believe they are journals from your great-grandmother.” She lifted the bag.

  “Are you Reese Iverson, the author?”

  Reese nodded.

  “And you are?” Joan looked expectantly at Julia.

  “Hi, I’m Julia Porter.” Joan shook her hand.

  “Please, come in.” She stood aside and ushered them into the living room. “Can I get you anything to drink?” They each requested a glass of water. Joan left the room for a few moments and returned with a tray full of glasses. She set the tray down on the coffee table. “So, you bought the Prineville house? I’ve only heard about how beautiful it was up there.” Reese agreed and pulled out one of the journals.

  “When I found these, it felt like finding a treasure. I started to read them. It was such an incredible love story. I was so lost in Clara’s world.”

  “That’s how I feel when I read your novels. You’ve become one of my favorite authors.” Joan motioned floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. Reese’s eye was immediately drawn to a line of bindings with her name on them.

  “Thank you so much. That’s very kind of you to say.”

  Joan smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m a little star struck right now. You’re trying to let me know about my family history. You must be the one who found the remains on the property?” Reese nodded. “A couple of detectives stopped by. They asked if I wanted to claim the remains. Of course, I refused.”

  “What? Why wouldn’t you want to give Emma or your great-grandmother a proper burial?” Reese couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “Excuse me?” Joan looked confused. “Emma was my great-grandmother. I loved her dearly, and she was given a wonderful funeral. As for her mother, she passed the year before my mother was born.”

  “I’m sorry. I should back up. I read through the last available journal. Clara’s husband Arthur threatened to kill them all. He killed Mrs. Hartley and was coming back for Clara and Emma.”

  “Oh dear. So, you don’t know. Clara and Emma took my grandmother and left him. I don’t know the story of what happened or how they got away. They both refused to talk about that part of their life. I know that I have heard over the years that Clara’s husband was angry at them when he found out about the affair. Back then, I can imagine he might not have understood what was happening.”

  “They lived? We couldn’t find any information on anyone, except for Grace.”

  “You wouldn’t have. Clara changed her name back to Bogard, her maiden name. Emma and Elizabeth also took the last name. Clara was a wo
nderful woman. When I was little, she taught me how to bake a cake. I still remember her laughing when I cracked the egg for the first time. It splattered all over. She passed a year or so before Emma. Both were in their mid- nineties.”

  “They all survived? Oh, that’s such a relief to hear. I feared I had found one of them. I have been so worried.” Reese took a sip of her water.

  “That’s why I don’t want those remains. I don’t know who that could be. Perhaps someone was buried there before the house was built or maybe after they finally moved out. I believe my grandmother was in her early teens when they finally moved to Portland. She always referred to the Prineville house as the scary house.”

  “You should come and see it. I’d love to invite you over for some tea. I know that I’m a stranger to you, but I would love to hear stories about your family. You could read these journals. It’s a beautiful love story, despite the pain they endured.”

  “Oh, being in love at that time must have been so difficult for them. Growing up, it was normal to me and my cousin, Claire. She lives in Europe. She went there on a backpacking trip with her friends after she graduated high school. She fell in love and stayed in Austria. She lives there still.

  “I’d love to see the house. I’d also love to talk with you about your last book, if you wouldn’t mind. You left it open. I have so many questions. I don’t understand why the queen made that decision. He was her son!”

  Reese laughed. “I’m actually working on the final touches of the next installment. You’re going to get answers to questions you might not have even thought of yet. Just remember, what happened to her when her father was King.” Reese saw Joan’s eyes grow wider.

  “Oh, that’s brilliant. Wow, okay. I see where you’re going. I can’t believe I didn’t make that connection.”

  Julia laughed. “Her books are very intricate, aren’t they?” Joan agreed, and the three of them talked more about Reese’s stories. They planned for Joan to come out to the house the next weekend. On the drive home, Julia and Reese talked about the new mystery. Who was buried in the yard? Julia wondered if a Native American tribe had ever lived near the area. Perhaps the bones were much older than they thought. Relief washed over Reese, knowing that Clara and Emma had lived a full life together.

  †

  Aiden sat at his computer and started to work out a budget for his new life. After a few hours, he’d put together a list of items he needed to sell and planned how long it would take him to be out of his current debt. If everything worked out, he’d be set up by the time the baby was born. After noticing the time, he grabbed his phone. Zachary picked up on the third ring.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, pal. Is there anything special you’d like to do this weekend?”

  Zachary paused for a moment. “Is the ice rink open yet? We could skate. Could we go to Slappy Cakes?”

  “I’d love that. Did you know that I used to play hockey when I was about your age? Maybe we could hit a puck around. I haven’t been to Slappy Cakes in a long time. Would you mind if we invited Janice? I’d like for you two to meet and get to know one another.”

  “Does she like to play games?”

  “You could ask her.”

  “Okay. Am I coming to you after school on Friday?”

  “Yes. I’m meeting your mom halfway. I’m excited to see you, son.” Aiden listened for a moment, waiting for Zachary to respond.

  “Me too. I’ll talk to you later.” They hung up the phone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Zach was bored. He did not look forward to making this drive every other weekend. His mom tried to keep up conversation with him. It was a futile attempt. He wouldn’t admit that he was nervous. Not only was this the first time in a month since he’d seen his dad, he wasn’t sure it was going to be as fun as he hoped it would be. His dad never did fun stuff with him. He only lectured him about money or other boring things. It was best when his dad left him alone and let him play his video games.

  He did remember what it felt like to still have hope that his dad would be someone that loved him. He went to a place in his mind where he hid one memory. His mom was out for the day. His dad was sitting on the couch, watching TV. Zach ran over and sat next to him. Neither of them said anything, but his dad reached for the remote and turned on a great action movie. Zach sat through the entire movie, leaning against his dad.

  They pulled into a parking lot. Zach sat up and looked out into the sea of cars. He saw his dad standing next to his car. His parents exchanged a few words to confirm the meeting time on Sunday. Zach grabbed his suitcase and put it in the trunk of his dad’s car. He gave his mom a hug and kiss. Soon, they were back on the road.

  “Hey, pal,” Aiden started. “How was your day at school?”

  “It was fine.” Zach looked out the window and spotted a sign. Almost a hundred miles to Portland. It was way too far away.

  “Yeah? What did you do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, I get it. Talking about school is lame.”

  Zach could tell his dad was searching for things to talk about. He was coming up short. Silence overtook them, and miles passed by.

  “Pal, I know that we haven’t exactly been the best of friends. I wasn’t close to my dad either. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to change that. You’re a great kid. You always have been.”

  Zachary didn’t really know how to respond. He let the silence hang in the air a while. “I didn’t know that you played hockey. I thought you hated sports.”

  “I don’t hate all sports. I just wasn’t very good at baseball or basketball. I think that hockey was more my speed. I couldn’t throw a ball or swing a bat, but I definitely could run into a guy on the ice.” His dad chuckled.

  “Maybe that could be our sport?” Zach smiled at his dad.

  “I’d like that. I’d really like that a lot.” He seemed relieved.

  Zachary knew the road ahead was going to be difficult, but it had to be better than the road they’d been traveling.

  †

  The next morning, Reese was running around the house, tidying the best she could with all the construction that had moved to the outside. Spencer and Pete were working on the roof and rebuilding the porch. Grateful that the living room was finally finished, Reese hoped her guest would like seeing the house. She was looking forward to hearing more stories about Clara and Emma from Joan.

  She smoothed her skirt before answering the knock at the door. Just visible behind Joan’s tall frame was another woman. Salt and pepper hair surrounded her round face. “Ms. Iverson, I hope you don’t mind. I brought my mother.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind at all. Please come in.”

  The shorter woman held out her hand. “Hello, I’m Emma Foster. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Iverson. I can’t believe that I’m here.” She walked in and looked around. She pointed at the stairs in the entry. “Oh, Joan. Mother used to tell me stories about those stairs. She would climb on the bannister and slide down. She said that Mrs. Hartley would yell at her. ‘Miss Gracie, you’ll break your neck, little one.’” Mrs. Foster laughed.

  “This is my mother, Helena Iverson. Joan, you’ve met Julia.” They all exchanged polite handshakes. They walked from room to room. Emma would share a small story from her mother about growing up in the house. Finally, they found their way to the dining room table. Reese brought out some of the small sandwiches and tiny cakes she’d made. The tea was ready to serve. “Is there anything else I can get for you ladies?” They shook their heads no, and Reese took her seat.

  “So, Helena,” Emma started, “I’m quite a fan of yours. I didn’t realize that we’d be in the presence of two celebrities.”

  “Why thank you, Emma. That’s kind of you. I haven’t done much in the last fifteen years, but I’ve been feeling creative again of late.” Helena took a sip from her cup.

  “I didn’t realize. What is it that you do, Helena?” Joan asked.

  “I am a
n artist. Painting is my specialty, but I’ve dabbled in sculpture over the years. I’m not famous. I have famous friends. My daughter here is the celebrity. She’s written a few novels and is in the middle of writing a fictional series on a royal affair.” Helena winked at her daughter.

  “I’ve been an Art History professor for twenty-five years,” Emma said. “Your early work created a profound impact on contemporary art. You really affected the deconstructive philosophies of symbols. Your work was very compelling.”

  Reese thought she saw a slight blush on her mother’s cheeks.

  “You know, I was just lucky enough to know Jacques Derrida back then. I met him while my husband and I were in Paris. He was quite the talker.”

  “I can only imagine.” Emma shared a knowing smile with Helena, then turned to the others. “Reese, Joan told me about you finding my grandmother’s journals. Thank you for finding us. We’ve spent the week reading them. I didn’t have any idea how bad it was for them. It broke my heart. I knew how much they loved each other. They really did have a happy life. During the Second World War, they went to work in an aviation factory. My mother helped the effort by selling war bonds. She was a beauty. Many soldiers tried to win her hand. I’m grateful that my father won the fight. There was an actual fight, you know.”

  Julia laughed. “I bet there was. I’m sure Emma was quite protective of her daughter. I imagine her taking the winner aside to give him a talk.”

  Joan and Emma laughed. “She did. She sat him down and grilled him for a few hours. He won her respect, Grandma Clara’s too. My father was a good man and a loving father. It was painful for all of us when he passed. I think he couldn’t handle losing my brother. Dad died two months after Joshua died. My mother was the one who encouraged my sister to get married later that year. She said that we needed to have some joy in our life.”