by Jane Toombs
Vera looked around to see Vincent standing in the entrance to the dining room.
"Here I am," he announced. "No cheers? No applause?"
A thrill of fear ran along Vera's spine as their glances crossed. She tried to convince herself there was nothing to fear since he knew she was leaving, but she remained tense.
"I see you're still here," he said to her.
"Until New Year’s," she said.
"Sit down, Vincent," John told him. "Geneva will set a place for you."
"You arrived in the nick of time," Marie said. "We're going to decorate the tree after we eat."
All the fun had gone out of the occasion for Vera. Still she did her best to participate, careful with the fragile spun-glass ornaments from Europe as she handed angels and fancy globes to the others.
The fresh scent of pine in the air did nothing to make her feel the Christmas spirit. In spite of the warmth of the room, she shivered as she watched the transformation of the tree.
I feel like the king with the myrrh who sings of gathering doom, she thought, feeling it gather almost tangibly around her.
Slipping away from the rest, she went to collect Johanna from Adele and Theola.
"How is the tree trimming?" Theola asked.
"It will be the most magnificent Christmas tree in California." Vera forced brightness into her voice.
"I'm coming downstairs tomorrow for Christmas," Adele said. "I always do."
As Vera walked down the corridor to her bedroom, she realized with a shock she'd left her door unlocked as she'd been doing the last few days--though not at night. When she checked her room and the baby's, though, everything seemed to be as she'd left it.
Johanna babbled happily, not ready to sleep, so Vera put her in the high chair and bent over the crib to straighten the sheet. As she lifted the blanket, something dropped to the floor and scuttled away, Vera caught back her involuntary cry as the blanket slipped from her nerveless fingers. What was it? Where had it gone?
Pulling herself together, she scanned the floor. There, by the wall. A horrible insect of some kind with a tail curved up over its back. Scorpion! She'd been told poisonous scorpions were not uncommon in Cabbage Valley, but she'd never seen one until now. Grimacing in distaste and revulsion, she smashed at the scorpion with the heel of her oxfords. It crunched sickeningly under her foot.
Though she searched both rooms thoroughly, she found no more. Was it merely a coincidence she'd discovered a poisonous insect in Johanna's crib on the same night that Vincent came back to Hallow House? She couldn't bear to think what might have happened if she'd laid Johanna in the crib right away.
Later, in bed behind locked doors, Vera couldn't sleep. Her legs felt as though unseen bugs were crawling over them and she had to resist the urge to turn on the light and look in case she'd missed another scorpion. Finally she drifted into an uneasy doze, started awake, dozed again. And dreamed....
The figure was dressed in scarlet--a woman. At first she was beautiful with her dark hair and eyes. Beautiful but imperious as she mounted the steps to a throne-like chair where she watched while two men with rapiers came from opposite doors and face each other, rapiers in hand, arms raised in a standard dueling position..
When Vera saw the two men were John and Vincent, she tried to cry out, but could make no sound. She started toward the woman, determined to make her stop the duel. As she put he foot on the first step, she saw the flesh ooze off the woman's face, leaving wings of shining dark hair framing a fleshless skull with empty eye sockets. Then the skull broke away and rolled past Vera to the floor where it settled between the two men…
Vera woke with her teeth clenched so tightly together that her jaw ached. Blood pounded in her head as she sat up and reached for the switch to the lamp on her bedside stand. A dream. Only a nightmarish dream. But she stayed awake with the light on until dawn before she slept.
Then she overslept and roused to a knock at her door.
"Vera!" Marie called to her. "I came up to get you. It's eight--you're going to miss breakfast, And you have to be there when we open the presents afterward. Hurry up!" Vera quickly brushed her hair, catching it back with a ribbon instead of taking the time to braid it. Throwing on a red dress she'd worn the last Christmas she'd spent with her father, she put on the matching shoes. Johanna sleepily protested the pink dress Vera pulled over her head, but finally they both were ready.
Vera grabbed a cup of coffee and a piece of toast in the kitchen while she fed Johanna her cereal. Taking a bottle with her, she brought Johanna into the living room where the others were gathered.
"Living room?" Adele was saying to Theola when she entered. "What is wrong with calling a parlor a parlor."
Vera had taken the baby with her into town with John and Marie last week, so she'd been able to buy small presents for everyone. Hers were wrapped and under the tree somewhere in the mound of other gifts.
"Let me feed that sweet child," Adele insisted, so Vera handed over baby and bottle.
While she sucked, Johanna stared round-eyed at the tree. Her first Christmas. And the last one Vera would spend with her.
No tears, she warned herself, concentrating on Sergei who was picking each package from the pile and calling out who it was for and who from before delivering it.
A small group of presents formed around Vera as he brought both hers and Johanna's to her. "John from Marie," Sergei said, handing his father a large, lavishly wrapped box. He picked up the next one and paused. "This one is funny--odd, I mean." His voice faltered.
"What now?' Marie asked.
"It says Vera on it in big letters, but not who it's from."
"Ah, a bashful donor," Marie said. "Open it, Vera, and let's see what you got from Mr. Anonymous."
The unwrapping of gifts stopped while everyone watched Vera as she tore gold paper loose and uncovered a small white box. She lifted off the cover and froze, her hand on the cover, her horrified gaze fixed on the contents. Then she screamed, thrust the box from her and the skull fell out and rolled onto the floor.
"What in hell is that?" Marie cried.
John rose and picked up the skull.
"Looks like an animal skull," Vincent said.
"Diablo." Aunt Adele spoke with authority. "Delores' cat. His head was gone. Whoever took it cleaned everything off the bone and saved the skull until now."
"Rather a macabre gift," Vincent said.
John turned the skull in his hands. Then, with a muttered curse, he strode from the room.
"But the cat was killed in that room behind the black door," Marie said. "How did his head--how could anyone...?" She stopped, putting her hand to her mouth, got up quickly and hurried out.
Vera, numb rather than sick, felt somehow contaminated, even though she hadn't actually touched the cat skull.
John returned without the skull. "Let's get on with the packages," he said. "We won't let this distasteful joke destroy our Christmas."
But it had.
Later, Vera said to John, "I'd like to go to church." Her father's attitude toward religion had been casual for a Catholic and, as a result, she'd never worried overmuch about missing Mass. Now, though, Vera felt a need for the reassuring ritual of the service.
To Vera's surprise, Marie opted to come with her. "Everyone has moments when they need a belief," Marie told her. "If I knew right now that what's here, what I am, was all there was...." Her voice trailed away.
Noticing the bluish shadows under her eyes, Vera forgot her own needs. Marie not only looked haggard, she looked frightened.
"Are you all right?" Vera asked.
Marie shook her head. "Who is?"
"But--are you ill?"
Marie looked at her and, for a moment, Vera thought she saw an appeal in the depths of the other woman's dark eyes.
"Can I help?" she asked.
"There's nothing you or anyone can do," Marie told her. "Nothing."
Having left Johanna temporarily in Adele's care, John drove
them to the Catholic Church in Porterville. They sat three in the front seat of the Packard, Marie next to John. Vera wondered about Marie's paleness--was she ill?
"This is the first year I missed a Christmas Eve Mass," Marie said. She glanced at Vera. "As a child, were you ever an angel at Midnight Mass? An angel all dressed in white with pinned-on wings and a golden halo fastened to your head?"
Vera nodded. Once she had been and her wings had fallen off.
"Being a child was the best time of my life," Marie added.
Vera had enjoyed her childhood, too. Though she'd lost her mother early, her father had never let her feel lonely. Still, she'd always felt something good was ahead of her, waiting.
John parked the car and walked up the church steps with them.
"Are you coming in?" Vera asked.
"Shouldn't I?" He smiled at her.
"It's just that I thought you were Russian Orthodox."
"San Francisco turned out to be too far away for the Gregory family to go to church. We're Roman Catholics now. At least nominally."
After the service John introduced Vera and Marie to Father Thetis. Many of the parishioners greeted John, a few stopping to speak to him.
"Vultures," Marie muttered as they approached the Packard. "Some of those same people wouldn't give Delores the time of day when she was alive."
"Judge not that ye be judged," John said unexpectedly. Both Marie and Vera stared at him.
Marie bristled. "Who the hell do you think you are to stay that to me?"
John didn't answer, didn't so much as shrug.
The day had been sunny, but in the north clouds rolled up the sky and a chill crept into the air. As they got into the car, Marie motioned Vera ahead of her so she was forced to sit in the middle as John maneuvered through the narrow streets to the highway.
After a time, the silence combined with her nearness to John began to make Vera uneasy. "Do you have much rain in the valley?" she asked, the weather usually being a safe topic.
"Some winters, the rain combined with spring snow-melt make it flood.," he said "If the Central Valley Project ever gets going we'll have dams and canals in the San Joaquin Valley that'll let us store run-off water and use it for irrigation. As it is now, almost every spring the Tule River goes over its banks when the snow melts in the Sierras. If we happen to get a warm rain at the same time, disaster strikes."
"Does Hallow House ever become flooded?"
"No, we're on high ground. The downstream towns like Porterville suffer property loss and sometimes lives. All preventable." He shook his head. "The bill was passed for the valley project in '33, yet nothing's been done. Sacramento keeps passing the buck from one agency to the other."
"Oh God, John," Marie cried. "Here we've had a skull dropped at our feet this morning and you're nattering on about politics. Who wrapped up the wretched cat's head and put Vera's name on the outside? Which one of us?"
"What good does it do to talk about it?" John demanded. "How can I tell who has such a grisly sense of humor?"
Vera had gotten as far as deciding to confess to John that she took it as more of a threat than joke, when Marie yelled, "Stop the car!"
John put on the brakes and veered to the shoulder. Even before he came to complete halt, Marie had opened the door and was vomiting into the brown grass along the blacktop.
"I knew you looked sick," Vera said to her when she finished. "Do you want to lie down in the back seat?"
"I--I'll be okay." Marie pulled the door shut. "Go ahead, John, I'm through." She put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
Noticing the pulse beating in Marie's throat, Vera counted the beats. Rapid, but strong.
John glanced at Vera, a question on his face. She nodded. There was nothing either of them could do about Marie but take her home. They could only hope the vomiting didn't mean an infectious gastrointestinal illness that would spread among them. Though Johanna's nutrition was now normal, she remained somewhat frail and might not be able to tolerate an infection well.
After a time Marie slipped into a doze.
"There was a scorpion in Johanna's crib last night," Vera said to John in a low tone. "I killed it."
"We do get them in the house occasionally. Not upstairs as a rule."
She shot him an exasperated look. "Vincent's home. There was a scorpion last night and the skull this morning."
John neither looked at her nor spoke.
"Don't you think your brother's behavior is odd?" she asked, her voice rising. "Shouldn't you do something about him before he has someone new to terrorize?"
"Sister Mathilde assures me the nurse coming the first of the year is neither young nor especially attractive. I hardly think Vincent will bother her."
Vera clenched her fists in frustration. "The scorpion was in Johanna's crib--not my bed. I didn't get scratched on the forehead." She glared at John's profile. "Sometimes I think you don't care what happens to your daughter."
John glanced over at Marie, rather than at her.
Vera lowered her voice. "Marie knows everything that's happened anyway. What difference does it make if she's listening?"
John shook his head. "Later," he said so softly she scarcely heard him.
After their return to the house, Vera immediately became caught up in Johanna's care. Then she waited until the baby fell asleep before leaving her behind locked doors. By the time she looked for John she couldn't find him.
She wandered into the music room where she ran her fingers along the keys of the grand piano. Though not musical herself, she enjoyed listening to those who had talent. Who in this house ever touched his beautiful old piano? She'd never heard it played. Tear stung her eyes. She never would.
"What was that--the prelude to a farewell in G-minor?" Vincent asked.
Vera started and turned. She hadn't heard him come into the room. To cover her anxiety about being alone with him, she asked, "Do you play?"
Without answering, he sat on the red velvet stool and put his hands to the keys. Notes fell on her ears like tears. The haunting melody he played was unfamiliar, but it spoke to her of sadness beyond words. When he finished and sat facing the piano, his back to her, she waited a while before she said anything.
"What was that you played?" she asked at last.
"'Song Of The Lost.'"
"I've never heard it before."
"Of course not." Vincent twirled about on the stool to face her. "I'm the composer."
She stared at him a moment. "You're very talented. Why do you stay buried here at Hallow House?"
"Money."
"Marie tells me you have a regular income from the business."
"So much a month. Not enough."
Not understanding why she was taking time and effort to try to help someone she mistrusted, Vera persisted. "That piece you just played is wonderful. Can't you--?"
"Work?" His eyebrows rose. "Market my talent?"
"Why must you mock everything?" she cried. "What's the matter with you?"
"I'm only half a person."
"What? Do you mean your dead twin? That's ridiculous."
"Are you a twin?"
"No, but--"
"Then what do you know about how twins feel?" He got up and paced around the music room. "Vladimir was a duplicate of me. We were identical in every way. In fact, when the rattler bit him, no one was certain for a while which of us was dead. Since then I've been one half of a whole."
She felt like she wanted to shake some sense into Vincent. "That's--morbid."
"Or crazy? Isn't that what you thought of first?"
Brought back with a jolt by his last words to the fact she was talking to the person she suspected, Vera said, "What are you trying to do to Johanna? Is it because of me?"
He stopped pacing to stare at her. "You believe I'm responsible?"
"Nothing happened while you were gone," she pointed out.
"Then it seems I'll have to leave again." Vincent took a step toward her a
nd stopped. "Delores was never happy with John, you know. You wouldn't be, either."
"I don't want to hear," she said. "I leave Hallow House the first of January. Isn't that enough? What more can anyone ask?" Tears stood in her eyes.
"Since you believe I'm the big bad wolf, I'll get out of here in the morning so you can spend your last few days in peace. Unless you're wrong, of course."
The pain in his eyes twisted her heart.
"How can you think I'd harm that child?" he asked. "Or you?" He swung on his heel and left her alone in the music room.
What if Vincent isn't to blame? she asked herself. She wanted to cling to the idea of him as guilty, but he'd planted a seed of doubt. Though it was true nothing untoward had happened while Vincent was gone, that really wasn't proof. After all, wasn't Stan also gone? If she gave Vincent up, though, then she had to go back to asking herself who it could be.
Marie drank, true. Was it possible she couldn't control what she did while drunk?
What made Samara so frightened? Was she afraid of being found out?
Was Sergei's friendliness a mask?
And then there was John. But he had no reason, no reason at all. He'd arranged for her to leave and she'd be gone in a matter of days. Why would he try to frighten her? Unless--unless....
One of us is quite mad. Vincent's words.
There was such a thing in medicine as a split personality, a person who fooled himself as well as others. No, she couldn't believe that of John. Vincent was more likely to suffer from such a thing. Perhaps he was Vincent some of the time and his dead twin brother other times. Hadn't he admitted he felt like half a person?
Chapter 18
In the morning, at breakfast Vera discovered Vincent was once again gone from Hallow House. After she'd eaten, Marie, who still didn't look at all well, followed her toward the stairs.
"I can't understand him," she said. "He told me he was broke, but he promised me..." She broke off, swept past Vera and up the stairs.
Later, after she'd rocked Johanna to sleep, Vera decided she needed to talk to John about her last talk with Vincent. Leaving the baby sleeping in her crib behind locked doors. She found John in the library listening to the radio. He clicked it off and invited her to sit down.