Hidden Voices (Tess Schafer-Medium)

by Deborah Hughes

  “I read that a burial site was located where the mill is now but you know where exactly, Dawn?”

  “Not precisely no. My husband thought it was nearby though.”

  “Did your husband know anything about them?”

  Dawn gave that some thought then shook her head. “Not much concerning the Red Paint Indians, no. I just remember him mentioning them and saying something about there being a gravesite across the street.” She gave a small shrug. The matter to her mind was not all that important. “Perhaps other natives killed them off. Even the Indians fought among each other.” She paused for a moment then indicated her children. “My husband believed he was a distant descendant of the Penobscot Indians. Though it was more a guess on his part. He just knew that somewhere in his family history, one of his relatives was a member of a local Indian tribe. Since the Penobscot Indians were pretty dominant in this area, he thought it might have been them. Whatever the tribe, their genes must be pretty dominant because he looked like a full-blooded Indian native even though his mother was Irish. My children all took after him in looks. None of them look like me.”

  Well that certainly explained their dark looks. Even so, they were still rather unusual. I attended some Native American festivals in my own state of New York and none of the Native tribesmen who participated had eyes as black as Mary’s and Adam’s.

  Mary touched my arm to gain my attention. “What would that have to do with Jonathan Buck’s cursed grave?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.” For some reason, I didn’t want to share with them my discovery at the Tenney house. Besides, I was too distracted by the shadows shifting just out of my line of sight. From the corners of my eyes, I could almost see them. It was hard to concentrate on the conversation and not look like I was noticing spirit activity going on around us. It honestly was beginning to feel like the room was literally filling up with spirits. Their energy was strong and it wasn’t all good. Negative vibes mixed with positive. I mentally cast an image of white light around us but for some reason the image wouldn’t hold. Even in my imagination I could see my light being pushed back and the darkness crowding in. For a moment panic raced through me and my heart jumped with nervous anticipation in my chest. Sheila! Help me.

  A picture on the fireplace mantel suddenly fell to the floor and shattered. Startled, we all jumped at once. Mary shot off the couch, her face pale as she crossed the room and knelt before it. “What the hell?” She picked up the picture frame, its glass completely shattered out of it, and handed it to her mother who stood over the mess looking as shaken and pale as Mary. “I’ll clean it up. Don’t touch anything.”

  Dawn glanced down at the picture then looked at me. I had a feeling that other things of this nature were occurring in the house. Was this why they invited me here? “This is a picture of my husband Night and me on the day we got married.” She handed me the broken frame and I looked at the black and white photo curiously. It was easy to see where Adam got his build and his coloring. Night Rowan definitely had Native Indian features. High cheekbones, high forehead, firm jaw, dark skin, dark hair and black eyes staring hard at the camera. He towered over Dawn by a good six inches and Dawn wasn’t short by any means. He looked stern, his mouth held in a straight uncompromising line. If he was happy about the marriage, he didn’t show it. Dawn looked happy though. She was smiling in the photo and looking very proud to be his wife. I wondered at the attraction. “He was a silent man, didn’t talk much, but he was very caring. He was like a gentle giant and always serious.”

  I handed the picture back to her. “You made a very handsome couple.”

  Mary returned with a broom and dustpan and cleaned up the glass. “I wonder what made it fall?”

  Detecting a movement out of the corner of my eye, I turned to look and saw a big gray tabby cat coming toward us from the hallway Mary had taken to get the broom. He walked in stealth mode, his tread slow and cautious. Soon as he reached the entrance to the room where we were located, he stopped. Suddenly his back arched and he let out a loud, teeth-baring hiss. In the next instant he was making a mad dash down the hall, moving so fast he didn't make the turn and slid smack into the wall. Without losing any momentum, he scrambled in place, gained traction then disappeared around the corner.

  Mary, Adam and Dawn all turned to watch this odd little drama in speechless astonishment.

  “What’s got into Timmy?” Dawn glanced at Mary. “Maybe you should go check on him.” She turned to me as her daughter left the room. “We named our cat Timmy because he was always such a timid little creature. We actually named him Timid but began calling him Timmy and so it seems he fits his name still. He hasn’t acted up in days.”

  “Acted up?” Animals were a great indicator of spirit activity.

  Adam went back to his chair and dropped heavily into it. I was amazed the legs didn’t shatter at the impact. “That animal is crazy. One minute it’s laying there happy as can be, purring away, and the next it’s spitting mad and running around the room like its tail is on fire.”

  Dawn returned to the couch and perched uneasily on the edge of it. “All cats are a little weird. Lord knows what makes them act the way they do.”

  Too restless to sit, I walked over to the fireplace. “This is quite impressive.”

  Mary rejoined us, shrugging her shoulders as she did so. “Have no clue where the cat disappeared to.” She sank onto the couch next to her mother and heaved a tired sigh. Obviously not wanting to talk about the cat, she waved toward the fireplace. “Back in the day, it was the only thing that heated this place.”

  It was the perfect opening for me. “Rid says your house has been around since Bucksport was first established.”

  “Rid? When did you see him?” Dawn’s face looked tense and again I wondered if there were some bad feelings between the two families.

  “Just before coming here. I stopped to speak to him about the Tenney house and he mentioned that yours was just as old.”

  “Older,” Adam said looking rather proud of the fact. “Our house was one of the first built in this stupid town and it even survived the burning and ransacking the British did during the Revolutionary War.”

  I remembered reading something about that but I wanted to know what they knew. “The ransacking and burning?”

  Dawn pulled a bit of a face and I got a strong feeling this was a long-suffering topic. “My husband was a history buff. He was obsessed with Maine’s history but especially Bucksport’s and the surrounding towns. He usually shared his knowledge and views of things with the kids.” She shot Adam a sharp look. “Not that they cared much.”

  Adam shrugged in a 'who cares' manner. “Seriously, Mom? That all happened hundreds of years ago. What’s it matter now?”

  “The past matters, Adam. The past is what formed the life we now live.”

  Adam scowled, his hands tightening into fists. I had a pretty strong impression, though, that the emotions charging through him were not angry ones. He was doing his best to hold back his frustration. The internal struggle an easy read in his facial expressions. “Well it sure didn’t do much for us did it?” he waved a hand around him. “Look at us, about to lose it all. The past has done nothing but bring us to complete ruin.” He slumped back in his chair, his face scrunched in a scowl. He glanced at me and said, “We used to be considered a rich family. Back in the past. Now look at us. We have nothing. Our future doesn’t look too bright either.” He stood abruptly and practically stomped from the room. “Call me when dinner is ready.” He disappeared down the same hallway as the cat.

  A few seconds later we heard the decisive bang of a door. He didn’t quite slam it but his displeasure was evident. We sat in silence for a moment and I glanced at Dawn and Mary, both women were looking at each other and in obvious silent communication. Feeling responsible for steering the conversation toward a topic that upset Adam like that, I returned to the couch and touched Mary’s hand in a gesture of apology.

  “I’m so
rry. I didn’t mean to upset him.”

  Mary gave me a faint smile. “Adam doesn’t want to live here in Bucksport. He can’t afford to leave because he can’t get a job that pays enough to support his life and a savings account. You can’t move anywhere if you don’t have any money. Besides, he stays because…” Mary stopped in obvious reluctance to continue and Dawn picked up where she left off.

  “He feels responsible for me. This house has been in my husband’s family since it was built. Passing from son to son to son. Adam thinks he has to stay and carry on the tradition since his brothers have homes of their own.”

  “Although we’re losing the house and it would give him his freedom, he doesn’t want that to happen the way it is happening.” Mary sighed heavily, looking very tired and worn down. “I love it here. I told him that I’d be more than happy to stay if he wanted to leave but…” Mary’s eyes filled with tears. “He wants to find a job and help pay the back taxes and mortgage payments that we owe. But we owe so much, unless he lands a job that pays in six figures, he isn’t going to make enough to save the day.”

  Dawn leaned over and patted her daughter’s knee. “We must hold faith that something will happen.”

  Mary looked at her mother for a long quiet moment. Her expression was quite clear. She felt her mother was holding out hope for something that could never happen. She suddenly sniffed the air and stood. “I better check dinner.”

  Once she was out of the room, Dawn shook her head as if to dispel the doom and gloom hanging like a thick invisible cloud around us. “I didn’t mean for the conversation to turn so bad. I’m sorry.”

  “Please don’t apologize, Dawn. I’m sorry you are going through this. I wish I could help.” It did flash through my mind that I had a pretty hefty bank account thanks to my husband’s insurance policy and a settlement made on the accident that took his life. But even as I thought it, I knew they wouldn’t accept my help and besides, it was too much of a financial risk for me to consider. I felt so helpless just then and I didn’t like it one bit. “What did Adam mean that your family lost all your money?”

  Dawn waved a dismissive hand. “He’s talking way back into the family history. Back to when the Rowans first settled here. They were versatile traders from what I understand, getting their hands on things from the Indians that other settlers needed but couldn’t get themselves. Night said that his family was even rumored to do some smuggling during the war. I guess those sort of activities were rampant along the coast of Maine at one time. With his family being connected to the Indians, the Rowans were privy to information and goods not available to the white settlers.”

  Dawn paused to smile at the memories floating through her mind. “Night’s father was always telling us stories about his family. In fact, the one the kids enjoyed most was about one of his ancestors finding a treasure. Unfortunately, the treasure was lost and the family’s fortune began to dwindle over time. Honestly, though, I think he told that story because of the excitement it generated in the kids. They were forever wanting to go treasure hunting.” Dawn laughed softly, her eyes misting in response to the good memories of times past. She drew in a quick breath and visibly brightened, forcing her sadness away. “Randolph, Night’s father, was quite a character, let me tell you. He nearly made it to his ninety-fifth birthday. I wish we’d paid more attention to his stories. I fear the kids have forever lost a lot of information on their family heritage. It’s quite sad, isn’t it?” Her tears back, she gave a discreet sniff and looked away.

  Deciding a subject change was in order, I attempted to return to the topic we were on before Adam’s outburst. “Your family name isn’t mentioned in the initial listing of families that settled here.”

  Dawn gave a small nod as her brows arched with derision. “No, of course the Rowans wouldn’t have been listed. As I told you, my husband’s family is mixed with the Native Americans. His father’s ancestors were here long before Buck landed and started staking claim. From what I can remember Randolph and Night telling me, the Rowan name became attached to Bucksport history when one migrated here from Canada and married a local girl who was half Indian and half English.” Dawn’s brow puckered in thought. “I’m not sure if that means her mother was from England or what. But anyway, I do know that her father was an Indian and so that made her a half-breed. A despicable name back in the day that was given to those of mixed races.” Dawn waved a hand about her. “This house was initially built by them. The land coming to us through her family. Successive family members improved upon it over the years of course. I’m not all in the know on architecture but I do know that our home was originally built in the Georgian style and then it underwent a pretty massive reconstruction in the 1850s and is now considered early Italianate.”

  She glanced around her, the pride and love she felt for her home evident in her sad eyes. “The burning of the town that Adam was referring to was done by the British. They did it to punish the people of Bucksport for their part in the debacle in Castine.” Dawn shook her head at the senselessness of it all and continued. “We tried to overtake a fort British troops had built there and drive them from Maine. Although, back then, you know, we were still part of Massachusetts.” She shook her head sadly. “We suffered a terrible loss during that battle. Several of the men who participated were from Bucksport. Colonel Buck being one of the officers in charge. The British landed the day after our defeat and burned most of the buildings in town. They pillaged what they wanted and left those who remained with very little.” She gave a small shrug, her expression almost apologetic. “More than likely, they didn’t want to anger the Indians because they left this house alone.” And then, remembering from where I just came, “Rid’s house survived the British’s retaliation as well.”

  I’d read about this incident in my research of Bucksport but Dawn seemed as knowledgeable as Rid and I found that admirable. “Your husband taught you well.”

  Dawn laughed softly even as her expression turned a little sad. I figured she was thinking about her husband and her next words confirmed it. “Night was obsessed with knowing everything there was to know about this area. I’m not sure why.” Then, as an afterthought, “He was just as obsessively curious about his Indian heritage.”

  Adam returned at that moment. His body wasn’t quite as tense so he must have worked off most of his frustration. He rubbed his mother’s shoulder as he passed her and flopped back down in his chair. He must have been listening in the hallway for his voice was subdued, all his fight gone. “We’ve been here longer than anyone. You’d think that would count for something. We deserve that respect at least.”

  “Respect has nothing to do with this, Adam. You cannot replace money with respect and we need money. Lots of it.”

  Just like that, the tension was back, the air crackling with it. Adam stood and paced the room. I likened him to a great bear looking for something to maul. “Where will we go? When we lose the house, where will we live?” The sound of Mary coming back down the hallway made him turn to face her. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could utter another word the door slammed shut. And not by Adam’s hand. Nor any hand that I could see.

  Adam’s dark eyes widened in disbelief. He turned and looked from his mother, whose back was to the door, and then me. “Did you see that?”

  Mary pushed the door open and threw Adam a baleful glare. “Why did you slam the door like that? It nearly hit me in the face.”

  “I didn’t do it!” Adam sliced a hand in my direction. “Ask her, she saw the whole thing.”

  Dawn stood and eyed her two children with concern. She lifted a hand and began to fiddle with her necklace in a show of nervous tension. It was, I noted, a small crucifix. “Oh dear, I just can’t imagine what is happening.”

  Mary looked at me for confirmation of Adam’s claim. I nodded to let her know her brother spoke the truth. Mary sighed heavily, her body deflating with her breath, her shoulders sagging. She gave me a tired smile. “Well, here you
go, Tess. This should be right up your alley. We’ve been thinking for a while now that our house is haunted.”

  Adam swung around and looked at me, his belligerence gone. “Can you see any ghosts in the room with us?”

  Another shiver passed through me. I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them. Lots of them. “Have you always had trouble with ghosts here?” I wondered if I was perhaps stirring things up. Somehow the spirit world knew when someone was around that could sense them, hear them. Maybe they were here to communicate with me. The idea made me cringe inside. An unusual reaction to be sure. But I felt a lot of discontent coming from them and I wasn’t sure I wanted to invite that into my life.

  “It wasn’t until after Night died that we started noticing things.” Dawn gave a displeased frown. “If he’s haunting us, I’m not very happy with him about it. He knows I don’t like ghosts.”

  Adam shook his head. “We noticed things every now and then even before Pop died.”

  Mary’s gaze did not leave mine and I knew she was looking for a sign in my expression that would confirm her question. “Do you think it’s my father, Tess?”

  If he was here, it wasn’t him causing the stir. “He might be here more in a protective mode than anything because I assure you he’s not the one shutting doors, scaring cats and breaking pictures.”

  Dawn moved close to her daughter. “Protective mode? Do we need protecting?”

  “It’s probable that he is concerned about the situation you are facing. If he is here, and note I said if, he is more than likely lending his support and doing his best to give you strength to get through this.” But there was more going on here than a concerned father lurking in spirit with his family during their time of need. I could almost imagine someone shouting at me. I glanced around, eyes narrowed, and tried to pick up where the energy was coming from. The effort was a futile one because it seemed the other spirits surrounding me acted like a block. It was almost suffocating the way they crowded close. Something needed to be done.