What Happened to Anna?

by Jennifer Robins

  By the time Andrea finished her coffee, the manger was back with a piece of paper. “Here you are. I’m not sure who lives there now, but I think it is still the people who bought the house from Samuel. I hope you enjoyed your lunch.” He turned to leave. “Thank you for coming.”

  She thanked the manager and went out to the lobby, glancing down at her watch. It was one forty-five, and she had to get to the square by two. She headed for the door but couldn’t resist looking at the painting one more time on her way out.

  It didn’t take her long to get to the square, just two miles from the restaurant. She drove the four short streets, looking for the antique shop, and spotted it next to the bank. She parked right in front and went inside.

  The shop had wall to wall antiques, all neatly arranged on shelves and tables. Larger items like chairs, tables, and other furniture sat grouped on the floor. Although everything looked clean and neat, the place had a distinct musty smell. Her gaze roamed the interior of the shop while soft music played from the rear. It sounded like something classical — Mozart. She headed toward the rear of the shop when a full-figured woman with silvery white hair came out of a back room and greeted her with a smile.

  “You must be Emily Peters,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Andrea Devon. I have an appointment with you.”

  “Yes. I’m so happy to meet you.” Emily shook her hand. “Please come to my office and I’ll get the file on your wonderful house.”

  Andrea followed her, noticing another woman dusting shelves with a feather duster. She smiled at Andrea as they walked past. “My sister,” Emily said, her blue eyes twinkling. “She helps me keep the place clean. It gets pretty dusty around here — all this old stuff, you know.”

  She chatted on, telling Andrea how she had run the antique shop since her mid-twenties. Her husband had been killed on a fishing trip in Canada, leaving her to raise their two young children. Emily never married again, instead dedicating all her free time to preserving the town’s history.

  The two women sat at an old desk, Emily in her chair behind it while Andrea sat in front of it. “I love the old houses in this town. That’s one reason I stayed here.”

  “You keep a nice shop. So many fine antiques from what I can see.” Andrea smiled.

  “My sister and I just love this place. She came in with me some twenty years ago. We’ve been together ever since.” A proud look appeared on the woman’s face. “Let me make some tea, and then we can look over the information I have on your house.”

  “No tea for me, thank you. I just finished coffee with my lunch. I went to that beautiful restaurant on the hill.”

  “Oh yes, I go there all the time. I’m well acquainted with the place.” Mrs. Peters read from the listing in the book. “Joseph Dickens built the house after he and his wife came here from England. There were some interesting stories about them through the years, but I don’t know how true they are.” She laughed. “You see, a lot of these places are full of tall tales. It makes them more interesting. People are just fascinated with old houses.”

  Andrea’s eyes grew wide. “What kind of tales, Mrs. Peters?”

  Emily shuffled the papers in the ledger, and then leaned back in her chair. “If you’re really interested, I know someone who can tell you all about it much better than I can. She’s an older lady whose mother knew the Dickens family very well. Her name is Marie Holden. Right now she’s in Merrymount Nursing Home. Marie has been telling stories about that family since I can remember. Who knows how true they are?” She waved a hand in the air. “All I know is something happened to that family.”

  “Where is this nursing home? I’d like to pay Marie a visit.”

  “You’ll see it if you stay on the main road out of town. Can’t miss it. I’m not sure what the visiting hours are, but you can call them and find out.” She waved a hand at Andrea. “Bear in mind, though, she’s almost ninety. She gets confused.”

  “Thank you for all your help, Mrs. Peters.” Andrea picked up her purse from the floor and stood.

  “You seem overly interested in these old stories,” Emily said as she closed the folder and rose from her chair. “These tall tales are all about things that happened a long time ago. Why do you want to know about it now?”

  Andrea shrugged her shoulders. “Just thought it would be fun to learn all I could about the house and the people who lived in it, that’s all.” She could sense some reluctance from Emily to tell her more about the house or the Dickens family. Andrea felt sure Emily Peters knew more than she was telling.

  She left the antique shop with a map Emily had given her, got into her car, and drove off. Andrea looked back to see Emily at the window watching her leave.

  ****

  Merrymount Nursing Home was a large, L-shaped building set back about two hundred feet from the road. Andrea parked in the visitors’ lot to the right of the main entrance. The grounds were well kept and beautifully landscaped. A fenced area with a large patio sat in the rear of the building.

  Inside, a large reception desk dominated the waiting area. A nurse behind the desk looked up at Andrea as she approached. “Do you have a resident named Marie Holden here?” she asked.

  “Yes, we do. Are you a relative?”

  “Ah… no, but I know a friend of hers and thought I would come to visit Marie for her.”

  The nurse smiled. “She doesn’t get visitors anymore, so I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you. She’s in the back wing. Just follow the corridor to the right. There’ll be a nurse at the desk in back. Tell her who you’re here to see.” As Andrea went to walk away, the nurse stopped her. “Wait. You need to register your name in the guestbook.”

  Andrea went back to the counter and signed the register, then made her way to the back wing. Many elderly people in wheelchairs rolled past her down the wide corridor. A few sat idle, with their heads bowed down toward their chests. Some were snoozing, while others mumbled to themselves. It was a sad thing to see.

  At the end of the corridor, she walked to the desk where a middle-aged, blond nurse with bright red lipstick held a clipboard. “Excuse me. I’m here to see Marie Holden. Can you tell me where I can find her?”

  The woman put her clipboard down. “Did you check in at the front desk?” she asked, her tone pleasant and welcoming.

  “Yes I did, and they told me to come back here. I’d like very much to see Marie if it’s at all possible.”

  The phone on the counter rang, and the nurse went to answer it. Andrea patiently waited for her to finish the call. After hanging up, she said, “Okay, let me take you to Marie.”

  They traveled through a wide doorway into a large room furnished with three sofas, some end tables and lamps, a round table with four chairs, and a television set in the corner. An elderly lady with thin, white hair that exposed her pink scalp sat in a wheelchair in front of the television, her attention fixed on a game show. “She loves that show,” the nurse said. “She watches it every day. By the way, what is your name?”

  Andrea gave her name, and the nurse stepped in front of the woman. “Marie, you have a visitor,” she said as she tapped the older woman’s shoulder. “This is Andrea Devon. She knows a friend of yours.”

  Marie looked up at Andrea. Then she raised her hand and held it out. Andrea took the old woman’s hand in hers. “Hello, Marie.”

  “You have until five, when visiting hours are over,” the nurse told her. “I’ll be at the desk if you need anything.”

  Once Andrea was comfortably seated in a chair next to Marie, she started with some small talk. “Well… how are you?” Marie just smiled. Clearing her throat, Andrea spoke to her again. “I know you don’t know me, but I really want to talk to you about the house I’m living in.”

  Marie’s eyes were fixed on the game show she had been watching, and she seemed only half-aware of Andrea’s presence.

  Only when Andrea mentioned Anna Dickens did Marie suddenly show some interest. The old woman’s face lit up with sur
prise, and she immediately turned and faced Andrea. Her snow-white hair had been pulled back tight, revealing deep lines in her face. She put a tissue up under the frames of her thick glasses that almost hid her watery, blue eyes and wiped away the tears.

  “I found an old photo of the woman who first lived in my house,” Andrea went on. “Her name was Anna Dickens. There’s a lady in town who told me I could ask you about the Dickens family. I’m trying to find out all I can about them and the house. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Marie smiled. “I don’t mind you asking. I like to talk about the Dickens family. Any of the stories you heard are true. My mother went on about them for years. She was friends with the Dickens’s — neighbors, in fact. It was very odd the way Anna died.” She looked at Andrea with a grin. “That is… if she really died.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was told to me there was question in a lot of the townspeople’s minds about what happened to her.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Oh, there was a funeral and a burial, but no one ever saw the body.” She stopped to wipe her eyes.

  “What else?” Andrea prompted. She held her posture straight and forward in the chair, giving no signs of surprise.

  “After the funeral, Anna’s husband Joseph disappeared. He moved out of town in the middle of the night, taking his two young daughters with him. There were so many things left behind in the house — furniture, dishes, towels, linens, and all of the paintings on the walls. All he took with them were a few personal things and some clothes.”

  Andrea’s heart began to flutter, her attention riveted on Marie. “There was a lot of talk in town, as you can imagine,” the old woman went on. “No one knew where Joseph and the children went. Many in town tried to find them, but the search was in vain. They didn’t even come up with a clue. It was said by some Joseph suffered so over the death of his wife that he couldn’t bear staying in the house or even in the town any longer. Others were more skeptical. Anna died very suddenly, and Joseph wouldn’t let anyone see her in her sickbed, so no one knew what exactly was wrong with her. Then, all of a sudden, she was dead.”

  Andrea jumped in. “Wasn’t there an investigation or an autopsy?”

  Marie chuckled. “In those days, honey, they didn’t do things like that. People died and were buried and that was that.” Marie paused to put her glasses back on. “About the house… after a time, the county held an auction to sell all the household items and furniture to pay the property taxes. Then they boarded up the house. It stayed that way for a couple of years, waiting to be reclaimed.”

  Andrea was so amazed at how much this old woman could remember. “Did the county seize the property in order to come in and sell things out of the house just like that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I only know what my mother told me about it. She said after a time the county sold off some of the land, and then the house itself. Whatever happened to Anna remained a mystery. No one ever found the truth. Maybe she did die—who knows for sure? My mother never thought so, though. The mystery plagued her until the day she died.”

  The elderly woman seemed to be very alert for her age and have a sound mind. The way she spoke about the things her mother had told her exhibited a memory of something true. Listening to her made Andrea’s curiosity rise even higher. She had a deep feeling what Marie had told her was indeed a fact and not just some made up story.

  Andrea touched her hand. “You’ve been a big help, Marie. Thank you so much. Do you know anyone else in town who might know about this?”

  Marie shook her head. “I don’t think anyone talks about it anymore. Of course I don’t get to see many people. I talk to the ladies who bring in candy for us every week. They tell me about things going on in town, but I never hear them say anything about the Dickens family. It was so long ago…who would remember?”

  The shuffling sound of pantyhose on heavy legs announced the arrival of the nurse. “It’s time for you to be in your room now, Marie, so you can get ready for dinner. Visiting hours are over.” She smiled as she turned the TV off and gave Andrea a “time’s up” look.

  Andrea checked her watch, surprised the time had gone by so quickly. It was five-thirty, and she needed to get home and make dinner. She apologized for staying so late and said goodbye to Marie. The old woman took Andrea’s hand in hers. “Come to see me again, will you?”

  “Yes, Marie, I will come again. Now you get your dinner and some rest. And thank you again.” Andrea walked away with the nurse. “I’m sorry I overstayed. I should have kept track of the time.”

  “That’s all right. Marie never has visitors, so I’m sure it made her happy to have you here. Please come again.”

  Andrea nodded and left. There was a good chance she wouldn’t make it home before John, but she drove as fast as she could without exceeding the speed limit. She hadn’t left him a note or called him to let him know she’d be going out.

  The evening traffic slowed her down considerably. When she pulled in the driveway, John’s car was not there. Working late again. Nevertheless, she was glad she’d arrived home before him. At least she would have time to make something for dinner. As she got out of the car, she noticed something strange on the windows — a cloudy, white substance.

  Moving closer, she saw a white coating on the inside of the windows. Slowly, she approached the front door as fear took over. She searched feverishly in her purse for the keys to the house. Her hands shook and her body trembled, but she found the key and put it in the lock. She reached for the knob, but when she touched it, she quickly withdrew her hand. The metal was ice cold. Her hand almost stuck to it.

  She dug a handkerchief out of her purse, wrapped it around the knob, then turned the key. The door still wouldn’t open, so she pushed on it with her upper arm and shoulder. It took several tries before the door finally flew open. Freezing cold air rushed out at her, stealing her breath. Everything was covered with white frost. She rushed into the house, running from room to room. The cold air circled her like a winter storm.

  “Oh, no, what is this?” Horrified, she ran out of the house and down the stone steps, and got into her car. She slammed the door closed. Her hands shook so badly she could hardly get the key in the ignition. Finally, she managed to get the car started. She gunned the engine and backed out of the driveway.

  As she went to turn onto the street, the driver of an approaching car laid on the horn and startled her. She turned the steering wheel fast to avoid hitting the oncoming car, which sped off down the street. She’d turned so sharply her car plunged into the ditch on the side of the road. Her chin hit the top of the steering wheel with a hard thud.

  She could hardly pull herself back in the seat. She tried hopelessly to get the car out of the ditch, but the wheels just spun, and the car rocked back and forth. After several attempts, she finally gave up and put her head down. Resting it on top of the steering wheel, she cried uncontrollably. Sobbing and shaking all over, she remained in her car. She couldn’t go back to the house and face whatever was there. She could only sit and wait for John.

  A box of tissues that had been on the seat next to her had fallen to the floor. She reached down for it with a hand that shook violently. As she wiped her eyes, the car door suddenly opened. It gave her such a fright she jumped back in her seat. A scream caught in her throat when she heard a familiar voice.

  “Good grief, Andrea, how did you manage this?” John peered in at her. “Are you all right?”

  Unable to speak, Andrea nodded.

  “Are you all right, Andrea?” he asked again, his voice tense with concern.

  This time, she managed to speak. “Yes… I’m all right. I’m not hurt.”

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get up to the house. My car is right over there.” He pointed to where he’d parked when he’d seen her in the ditch.

  Andrea waved her hands and shook her head. “I don’t want to go in there. Please, John, don’t go in there,” she pleaded.

  He help
ed her out of the car and held her by the arm to steady her. “What is the matter with you? Why don’t you want to go into the house?”

  “Please, John, listen to me,” she insisted. “There’s something in the house. We can’t go in there.”

  He dismissed her pleas. “Never mind this nonsense. Let’s get inside, then you can tell me what happened.” He took her hand and led her to his car. “Just get in. Everything will be all right.”

  She got into John’s car, shaking all over. Once again she tried to convince him not to go.

  “Don’t drive in, John. Let’s leave.”

  “You’re just upset about your little mishap with your car. Where the heck were you going when this happened? You must have been coming out of the drive pretty fast.”

  Rather than answering him, she closed her eyes as the car approached the house and wondered what he would do when he saw the frost that covered the windows and filled the rooms. When the car came to a stop, Andrea opened her eyes and looked up at the house. All of the windows were clear. She could hardly believe her eyes.

  John came around to the passenger side to open the door for her. “Come on, Andrea. I’ll call a tow truck to get your car out of the ditch. We can’t leave it there all night. Don’t be upset. I don’t think there’s any damage. At least it doesn’t look like it.”

  They walked up the front steps. The door stood slightly ajar, and John pushed it open all the way. “Come on,” he urged.

  Cautiously, Andrea walked into the foyer. She scanned the interior of the hallway. Everything looked normal — no frost, no cold. She stood for a moment in wonder before going into the living room. Feeling more at ease, she sat down on the sofa. John kept an eye on her as he stood by in the archway. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She took a deep breath before she answered. “Yes, John, I think I’m okay now.”

  “Let me fix you a drink before I call for a tow. You look like you could use something.”