Hallow House - Part One

by Jane Toombs

  Vera's heart turned over. Johanna was her baby. Hers. And she loved her as she loved John.

  As she lifted the baby into her arms, Adele gave her a shrewd look. "Johanna is a bright little girl," she said. "She already knows who to trust in this house. Let us hope you are as discerning."

  "I'll try to be," was all Vera could think to say.

  "Do come back after you've had a chance to eat and get Johanna settled," Adele added. "We have something for you."

  In the kitchen, Vera sat Johanna in the high chair and fed her some of the cooked cereal Irma had kept warm. Then she handed the baby an arrowroot cookie to keep her occupied while she made the formula.

  Watching her, Irma, who seemed unusually subdued, said, "I could do that just as well as you, if you was to trust me with it."

  Vera had already decided that Irma wasn't to blame for the cocoa being drugged. The tray had been in the hall long enough for anyone to have tampered with the contents. And she was sure Irma hadn't been the one who'd dragged her up into that room behind the black door. Yet she wasn't quite ready to trust anyone except John and the old ladies. "Thanks," she said to the cook. "I may take you up on that soon."

  "Heard you was feeling a bit poorly this morning," Irma said. "Must be why you missed breakfast. Saved you a bit, if you feel up to eating."

  Vera managed to down a glass of orange juice and a slice of toast without feeling too queasy. But her headache persisted.

  As she passed the dining room on her way back to the stairs, she noticed Vincent sitting hunched over a cup of coffee, all alone at the huge table. He was unshaven, his hair untidy.

  "Come in and join me," he said. "There's still coffee in the carafe."

  About to refuse, Vera hesitated. The caffeine in coffee might help eradicate the last traces of the drug. She entered the room, took a clean cup and saucer from the serving tray, poured coffee into it and sat down across from Vincent, positioning Johanna so she couldn't grab at the cup.

  "Sorry I took so long getting Jose back here last night," he said. "John gave me royal hell."

  Vera sipped her coffee, saying nothing.

  "I was just going to have a quick one, but there was a card game in the back room and I got involved. Old Jose was about ready to walk home. I must have been pretty well out of it when I finally crawled into bed. John claims he yelled for me, but I didn't hear him. Nasty thing to have happen to you up there." He jerked his head toward the stairs, then winced. "Got one hammering head this morning."

  He certainly looked like a man with a bad hangover. On the other hand, he'd gotten home before her nightmare experience.

  "Someone drugged me," she said.

  "So I heard. John lit into the kitchen help earlier about that cocoa. Irma fixed it, Blanche carried the tray up and left it when you didn't respond to her knock. No one admits to carrying it back downstairs either last night or this morning. Irma swears it was on the sink board when she came into the kitchen this morning."

  "With the pot and mug probably rinsed clean," she added.

  "I've been thinking about that damned stuffed snake," Vincent said. "It used to be in a sort of museum in the south tower but Delores, without consulting anyone, had Jose take everything out and dispose of it. John was furious. Vincent shrugged. "But that was Delores--a creature of impulses, many of them destructive as hell. Anyway, Jose claims he threw the snake in the trash for burning but then it disappeared."

  It chilled Vera's blood to think of someone plucking the snake from the trash and secreting it away for future use.

  "The problem was she took drugs," Vincent said.

  Vera blinked. "Delores?"

  "All legal, of course. The local doctor was besotted with her--like most men." His tone was bitter.

  "What kind of legal drugs?"

  "Barbiturates at first. Then morphine. She learned to inject herself."

  "I don't understand why any doctor would prescribe morphine if a patient didn't need it."

  "Vera, you're a true innocent. Delores made it worth his while. Not for money, give the guy that much credit. She had other ways of making things seem very worthwhile." His lip twisted into a sneer.

  What he meant fell into place for Vera and she shifted uneasily in her chair. "Still," she said, "every doctor has to account for his dispensing of morphine. Ever since the Harrison Narcotic Act was passed in 1914 they have to--"

  "There are ways to get around anything," he put in. "Don't be so naive."

  "But that's malpractice."

  He shrugged.

  "Couldn't she have been helped?" Vera persisted.

  "We all tried, but Delores didn't want help. Eventually even John had to give up. She lied to him as she did to everyone else except maybe Marie. John had to come to the realization he couldn't trust his wife at all."

  "How sad."

  Vincent wiped his hand over his face. "What's worse, Johanna was born addicted to morphine like her mother. The baby nearly died."

  "Oh, no!" Vera cuddled Johanna closer.

  "That finally upset her doctor friend so much that he cut her off. You can imagine the hell everyone around here went through until she found some other way to get the stuff. We never found her source."

  "Under those circumstances how could she possibly take care of the baby?" Vera asked.

  "The doctor insisted she have a nurse for Johanna, someone he trusted. Delores couldn't wait to get rid of her, she was convinced the nurse was spying on her. Who knows, maybe she was."

  Vera envisioned the portrait of Delores up in the room that had been hers. Why would a woman of such beauty, a woman who had a husband like John, ever take to drugs? It did make her suicide more understandable, though, even in the gruesome manner she'd chosen. Surely it was suicide.

  "Considering what's happened to you, I'm surprised you aren't begging me to drive you to the train station," Vincent said.

  Vera drained the last of her coffee and set the cup into the saucer with a decided clink. "I'm not leaving. Johanna needs me."

  "Living with insanity doesn't scare you?"

  "I intend to be very careful."

  "We may never discover who the mad one is until it's too late."

  "Too late?" she echoed.

  "Until some one else dies. And maybe not even then. Think about it."

  A prickle of fear ran along her spine. Was he talking about himself?

  She rose from the table and, carrying the baby, left the room. Vincent, staring into his coffee cup made no move to stop her.

  As she climbed the stairs she saw the baby's eyelids were at half-mast, so she went on to her room where Jose was cleaning up minor debris, the new brass lock already affixed to her door.

  "Key for you," he said, it to her. "Senor Juan, he keep the other one."

  John had the other key? For some reason that made her uneasy, even though she knew he'd keep it safe.

  "Thank you. Muchas gracias," she told Jose.

  "De nada. I fix things any time you want." He nodded to her, and left.

  Vera locked the door behind him, checked to make sure the nursery door bolt was in place and then eased Johanna into her crib. The baby sighed but didn't rouse. Once she was certain Johanna was thoroughly asleep, she decided she'd make her promised visit to the old ladies. The coffee had helped her headache and, with the new lock on the door, the baby would be safe.

  In their suite, Adele came directly to the point, "Theola and I have decided you should read Tabitha's journal." She handed Vera what appeared to be a book with a worn red-velvet cover.

  Taken aback, Vera managed to stammer, "Thank you."

  "We give you the journal to read because we have decided you are worthy," Adele added. "This is the first."

  Uncertain how to reply, Vera finally said, "I'm sure I'll find it fascinating."

  Adele frowned. "That may be. We intended the journal to be more of a warning. You are apt to be here for a long time raising Johanna and you are young and attractive."

&nb
sp; "Quite pretty," Theola chimed in. "In Hallow House lives Vincent, who is not married and John who is now a widower."

  Vera, clutching the journal, stared from one to the other of them.

  "Of course, both John and Vincent do make these trips to San Francisco." Adele looked away as she spoke, her wrinkled cheeks flushed. "I am certain I do not have to tell a nurse what that means."

  What was Adele talking about?

  Vera's confusion must have shown for Theola tried to explain. "She is very young, Adele. I do not think she does know." She pursed her mouth. "Men, as you must know, are not the same as women. They have different needs that must be satisfied." Theola waved her hands. "San Francisco is a city where there is the kind of woman who...." Her voice faltered.

  Comprehension dawned. Vera's father had seen to it she knew why the so-called houses of ill-repute flourished. She knew about men's appetites.

  "The desire of men isn't the same as that of women," she remembered him saying. "Not that women have no sexual urge. They do. It's normal, never let anyone tell you otherwise. But men are different."

  Theola had used the same word. Were she and Adele trying to tell her that John had gone to San Francisco to be with a woman?

  Whether she believed that or not, it was none of her business, she told herself.

  "I would not want to see you marry either John or Vincent," Aunt Adele said.

  Marry? Vera shook her head. "I don't--"

  The old woman was not through. "As I have mentioned before, there is peril in becoming a Gregory bride--though Delores did last sixteen years. Celia, John and Vincent's mother, lasted ten. But they both died horribly, as Tabitha did. Theola and I have lived through the tragedy three times."

  Vera found herself becoming the devil's advocate. "They had many years to be happy."

  "How can anyone be happy with such a prophecy clouding their future?"

  "Perhaps they didn't believe--"

  Theola broke in. "Delores did believe it. That is why she took all those medicines. And Celia--"

  "Theola!" Adele glared at her companion.

  "It was your idea to tell this young woman the truth," Theola shot back. "So there is no point in concealing that Celia overindulged in alcohol."

  Adele sighed. "I cannot but feel you must think the Gregory family is decadent," she said to Vera. "Unfortunately, what Theola has said is true. Poor Celia.

  If only she had not smoked cigarettes as well. A dreadful habit for a woman. But she did what she pleased despite everything and it killed her."

  "The cigarettes?" Vera asked. "The alcohol?"

  "Indirectly. Celia hid her brandy in Tabitha's room, the one with the black door," Theola said. "She would sneak up there so Micah wouldn't know she was drinking or smoking. She must have fallen asleep with a lit cigarette. Smoke was seeping down the third floor stars before anyone noticed."

  "The fire burned her pretty face beyond recognition," Adele added. "Which meant another closed coffin at Hallow House. And yet another for Delores."

  "The fire all but destroyed the room," Theola said. "No one went inside for years until Delores had it refurbished. The men live on to see it all--that is their part of the curse."

  Adele leaned toward Vera. "So, you see it is for the best that you leave the Gregory men to their fancy women in San Francisco."

  Pushing that thought away from her, Vera said, "Please don't worry about me. My job is to care for Johanna, to keep her healthy and safe."

  Adele nodded. "Yes. But ask yourself why you, along with the baby, were taken to Tabitha's deadly room in the night. Was it a warning?"

  Chapter 15

  Vera, carrying the journal the old ladies had given her, was returning to her room when Marie opened her door, stepped into the hall and intercepted her.

  "I couldn't help notice the new lock on your door what with the racket Jose made putting it on," she said. "Do you think a new lock will keep out the horrors of this place?"

  "At least I'll have the only key," Vera said, striving to remain courteous. Even as she spoke, though, she remembered what she said wasn't true--John had the other key.

  "I hope you realize Vincent is a lost cause," Marie went on. And John won't marry again, you know."

  "That's none of my business."

  Marie put her hands on her hips and glared at Vera. "If either of them ever decide to marry I want you to know I'd be the one chosen. Do you hear me? Me, not you."

  Vera shrugged and tried to ease past her to get to her door.

  Marie moved to block her way. "So you see there's no point in hanging around playing Miss Innocent while pretending to be oh so taken with that idiot child in there. Why don't you leave why you still can?"

  Anger sizzled through Vera. She scowled at Marie. "I was hired as Johanna's nurse and that's what I'm here to be. She's no idiot, there's nothing wrong with her that food and good care won't cure. Now, if you'll let me pass, I'll get on with doing my job."

  Marie whirled away and into her room, slamming the door behind her.

  Once inside her room, Vera glanced at her bed, thinking of taking a nap. But her grogginess had turned into restlessness and she didn't feel sleepy. After checking on the sleeping Johanna, she tried to figure out what had caused Marie's outburst. Good heavens, the woman couldn't be jealous, could she?

  Vera gazed into the mirror at her image, seeing a serious-faced young woman with blue eyes wearing her hair in two braided coils. As far as she could see there was nothing in her appearance to lead Marie to believe either of the Gregory men would even come close to choosing Vera as a bride.

  Vincent might have propositioned her, but nothing had been said about a wedding ring. In any case, she could never marry a man like Vincent. And John might smile warmly at her, but the very fact he'd left for San Francisco without saying goodbye to her told her how important she was to him.

  Even though she knew he must be gone by now, she decided to go down to the library. Leaving the sleeping baby behind locked doors, she did just that. No one was in the library and she hadn't met a soul on her way, making her feel she was alone in this huge old house. Which was silly.

  She turned on the Atwater-Kent radio and half-listened to an account of the nearly two-year-old Dionne quintuplets, trying to imagine taking care of five babies at once. Losing interest, she snapped off the radio and headed for the kitchen where she found Irma rolling out dough for pies. "What kind?" she asked.

  Irma whirled around, rolling pin in her hand. "Goodness gracious, what a fright you gave me."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

  "As to the pies," Irma said. "they're peach. We grow our own right here and can some for pies and cobblers and the like."

  "You grow almost all your food here, don't you?"

  Irma nodded. "Sort of the family business, you might say."

  "The family business? What's that?"

  "Thought you knew it was canning factories. Started years ago in San Francisco by what I guess you'd call the founding father. Came from Russia, he did, made a pile of money and built this house."

  "What brand name do they use?" Vera asked, certain she'd never seen a can with a Gregory label.

  "Lobo. Bet you've seen that in stores."

  Vera nodded, thinking of Vincent telling her that Boris had a wolf nature. "That means wolf in Spanish," she said.

  Irma grinned. "That old man wasn't no fool. He might've been a Russky but he knew there was lots of Spanish in California and they'd recognize that word. He was plenty smart. Except for building this house in Cabbage Valley."

  "I've heard about the Indian superstition," Vera said hurriedly, not wanting to listen to it again.

  "Yeah, well, might be something to it. My old grandma told me when the first white people in these parts tried farming near here--good land for growing, you know--earthquake killed 'em all. Had another bad quake right after this house was built, she said--1872, it was. Grandma lived up Porterville way then and it shook bad enough to brea
k dishes and knock bricks out of chimneys."

  "I grew up in San Francisco so I know all about earthquakes," Vera said.

  "You want to take a look in the living room when you get a chance. There's still a good-sized crack in the ceiling plaster. The patched it up and painted more than once but it keeps coming open."

  Geneva came in and Irma began telling her what to get together for lunch. Not wanting to be in the way, Vera took a bottle of formula with her and returned to her room where Johanna still slept.

  Taking the journal Adele had given her the drawer where she'd tucked it under some of her clothes, Vera sat in the upholstered chair in her bedroom and started to read to faded flowing script. Tabitha began with coming to Hallow House as a new bride on November 22, 1870.

  To Vera's dismay everything she'd been told about Tabitha hearing voices as she was carried over the threshold was written here in here in faded ink.

  "...a voice spoke, though I could see no one. 'There is no escape,' it said."

  I came here on November 22, Vera thought. I heard those very same words. What does it mean?

  She controlled a shiver, reminding herself that Tabitha's journal had been in the house all these years. Other people besides the two old ladies must have had access to it. Easy enough to hide in the fog and whisper those words when she stepped over the threshold. But why? To frighten her into leaving even before she began?

  She skimmed through the journal with Tabitha recording daily happenings of not much interest until she came to where Tabitha and her companion Alicia were walking on the grounds and had been accosted by "...a savage decorated with paint and feathers and wearing little else. He shook a dreadful rattle of bones and snakeskins at us and gibbered away in some strange language. Though I knew naught of what he said, his meaning came through to me as clear as water in a mountain stream. He cursed Hallow House and all who lived in it."

  Here Tabitha inserted the death and destruction verses Vera had heard before that had also to do with twins born and one dying.

  Soon after this, Tabitha, now pregnant, began hearing whispering voices at night, voices Boris did not hear. "I have become convinced something has gone awry with my unborn child who twists within me. Does he also hear the whispers?"