What Happened to Anna?

by Jennifer Robins

  Using all of his strength, John gave a final pull. He fell backward to the floor, bringing Andrea down with him. He pulled her away from the dark opening of the tunnel, scooting fast on his knees. Andrea cried out, her fists swinging in all directions. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I have you. You’re safe now.”

  Andrea struggled to keep from fainting. Terrified, the couple sat on the attic floor near the top of the stairs, holding each other. Andrea buried her head against John’s chest, and he nuzzled her hair. He needed to get her down the stairs and out of there. When he looked up, the tunnel had disappeared. The attic had begun to warm up again.

  A figure suddenly appeared in the dark. In the dim light from the round window, the silhouette of a woman appeared where the tunnel had been. Andrea brought her head up from John’s chest and looked straight ahead at the female figure standing there. “John, look.” She pointed.

  He squinted as he stared at the form standing in front of them. He rose to his feet. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  The figure stepped closer to them. The woman wore a ruffled white silk gown that hung to the floor. Her long, dark brown hair fell down around her shoulders. John and Andrea stared at her in awe. As the woman moved closer to them, they could see her face. Andrea knew that face very well—it was just like the one she saw in the mirror every day.

  Anna spoke in a soft voice, “I tried to warn you, my dear. You were so attractive to him because…” She paused. “You are my great-great-granddaughter. Many years ago, my father made a pact with the evil one. Every hundred years, the demon searches for one of his descendants. In return, he gave my father the great powers he coveted. You have now broken that pact and released me from an eternal hell. Our future descendants will never be faced with the evil one again. Now I can go on. I am forever grateful to you and your husband.”

  Anna began to fade. Her voice became weaker. “There is no more time to talk, but I will watch over you as long as you live, and someday we will meet again.”

  Andrea slowly stood up as Anna stepped back into the shadows. “Anna, wait.”

  The white gown fell to the floor. Anna was gone.

  John took Andrea by the arm and led her slowly over to the garment lying in a pile on the floor. Beams from the morning sun had started to flow in through the round window, bringing light into the attic. With great anxiety, John bent down and lifted the gown. There, on the floor, lay the remains of Anna — her skull and bones in a heap among the dust.

  John let the gown fall from his hand, paralyzed by this extraordinary and unbelievable event. Andrea wept as she looked at the skeletal remains of her great-great-grandmother. Holding onto John’s arms, she cried uncontrollably. Without turning around, John began to back up. Step by step, he pulled gently on Andrea’s arms, bringing her to the top of the stairs. Taking a last look at the placid bones of a woman who’d cried so often, who’d tried to stand between Andrea and her doom, they turned and went down the stairs to the hallway.

  John led Andrea to the bedroom and helped her lie down on the bed. He sat next to her, holding her hand. She looked up at him. “Oh, John, all those awful things we read in the ledger… they’re all true.” She sat up, throwing her arms around his neck, and began crying again. “I was so foolish. I almost ended my life for an evil thing like him.”

  He held her tight for several minutes. Finally, she stopped crying. The horror of what just happened lingered in John’s mind. He looked into her eyes. “What do we do now?” he asked. “I still want to move out of this house. This whole thing is too hard to believe, and I don’t know if I can stay here after this. What just happened up there is the last straw.”

  Still shaking, she spoke with assurance. “Think about what Anna said, John. She told us the pact is now broken. It has to mean that the evil one will never come back again.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You know how much I love this house.”

  “Andrea, I don’t know about that. I have my doubts. How can we be sure?”

  She took his hand in hers. “I am sure, John. It’s really over.” She went on to talk to him about how she’d always wanted to know her biological family. Adopted as an infant, she’d always wondered who her birth parents were. Now she would have the chance to find out. “I want to know more about my family, John. I’d like to stay here and trace my family, starting with Anna.”

  He put his arms around her again and rocked her silently, lovingly.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  John spent the day home with Andrea while they discussed what to do, especially about Anna’s remains. They agreed it would be proper for her to finally be buried in her grave. Too many years had passed for it to be something to report to the authorities. What had happened a hundred years ago would not matter now. Though they both wished there could be some other way, burying her in that lonely grave seemed like the best thing to do.

  Later, in the dark of night, they took their tools and Anna’s remains out to the old cemetery. Andrea brought the ledger and the ring with her. “No one must ever know about any of this. We’ll bury it all with her,” she told John, laying them on the ground so she could spread the blanket out and get the lantern burning.

  It took only a short time to open the grave. The ground was still loose and easy to dig. John lowered the box containing Anna’s remains and set the ledger on top of it. Broken pieces of the rotting wood from the casket had fallen inside, but John was able to rest the box firmly in the middle of the debris.

  Andrea stood at the edge of the open earth, looking down into the dark, exposed grave. Slowly, she took the ring off her finger and held it up over the cavity. With a little hesitation, she let it drop from her hand into the darkness. It was over. Anna was now truly buried where she belonged, and the ring would be with her forever. She could finally rest in peace.

  After they filled the grave in again and covered it with grass and weeds, they got in the car and went home. It was five in the morning. They were both exhausted, but John wanted coffee and something to eat. Though every muscle and bone in her body ached, Andrea went to the kitchen and began to make toast and coffee for her husband. She knew they would have to talk about things, and now would be a good time. The main topic would be the house, and whether or not they would stay.

  Andrea was sure it was finally over, and John was too tired to argue with her. He agreed to give it a while and see what would happen. They finally went to bed and slept until late morning.

  In the days that followed, Andrea talked to her mother about her adoption, and made calls to the agency who had handled it. Andrea’s parents had never kept her adoption a secret from her. They’d told her from the time she was three years old.

  John continued to worry about her. She’d lost a noticeable amount of weight, and still looked pale and weak. “When this is all over and you clear up these mysteries about your bloodline, I want you to see a doctor,” he insisted. “I know you won’t go now, but after this, you are going.” Andrea agreed.

  The adoption had been a private one, handled by an attorney in New Jersey. She needed to talk to him. John took Friday off from work, and they drove to New Jersey for the weekend. The elderly attorney, Mr. Richard Jenkins, had retired several years earlier. He still maintained a small office in the building where he’d been a partner for many years. He didn’t do much, just an occasional will or deed. He had the adoption files ready for them when they arrived at his office.

  Andrea learned her mother’s name was Katherine, and she’d been only sixteen when Andrea had been born. An unwed mother with no way to take care of a baby, she’d given Andrea up for adoption. Andrea’s maternal grandparents were listed as American citizens, but her great-grandparents had come from England. Her mother was the grandchild of Sarah, Anna and Joseph’s youngest daughter.

  Andrea wanted to go to England and find out about her ancestors. She just had to know all about them. John agreed to the idea. He thought the trip might be good
for her, and for himself as well.

  ****

  Andrea felt ill most of the time on the plane. She had trouble eating, and even threw up when she tried a cocktail. “Your nerves are shot,” John told her. “You’re going to see a doctor as soon as we get back home.”

  Once they arrived in England, Andrea began her search. Their archives were very complete, and she had no trouble finding information about her family. Records showed that Anna’s father had been convicted and executed for murdering his partner in a gambling business. She could learn nothing more about him, but she remembered what Anna had told them, and was convinced the man had been of an evil and criminal nature.

  After they returned home from England, John insisted Andrea see a doctor, and would not take no for an answer. She put off making an appointment for a few days, but finally he nagged her into it. She had to admit he was right. Nothing seemed to make her feel right. She had nausea and headaches continually. On John’s advice, she was keeping busy and eating better. She’d even joined a church group and would be starting a ceramics class the next month. There had been no disturbances in the house. Andrea was still feeling sick.

  On the fifteenth of September, she had her appointment with the doctor. It was late in the afternoon by the time the doctor finished with her examination. He was very thorough, taking blood for tests. He scheduled her for another appointment the following week.

  Andrea wasted no time in getting back home. When she arrived, she came into the foyer and set her purse down on the small table near the door. She walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. She leaned her head on the back of the sofa and closed her eyes.

  Her thoughts were going wild. She began to think of the demon in her dreams, how he’d made love to her while disguised as a handsome man. He’d seduced her, but… How could I have done that? I cheated on my wonderful husband. I let that horrible monster make love to me. The thought was devastating.

  Terror struck her as she lay down and buried her head in the arm of the sofa. Hugging a pillow tightly in her arms, she began to cry. Through her sobbing, she whispered, “Please, no.” She knelt down on the floor and began to pray. “Please, let this baby be John’s. What will I tell him if it isn’t? We wanted a child so badly. I can’t tell him this baby might not be his. I just can’t…”

  About the Author

  After spending many years in the business world, Jennifer Robins took up the pen and started to write about what she found to be the most interesting subjects, the paranormal-super-natural. Her family grown, she finds time now to pursue a career in writing.

  She attended Tri-C College for business and went on to be successful in the real estate business in her hometown, a small suburb of Cleveland.

  She lives with her husband and her wonderful dogs and cats. Loves music, art, gardening and plays the piano, paints in oils and enjoys the company of her son’s and daughters and the families they now have.

  Every day brings a new idea, a new adventure in research and stories that take up her daily thoughts.

  Also by Jennifer Robins:

  PROLOGUE

  Fort Stanwix, a colonial outpost on the site of Rome, New York, controlled a principal route from the Hudson River to Lake Ontario, a French trading center built by an English general in 1758. The fort fell into despair until early in the American Revolution, when it was rebuilt by the patriots and called Fort Schuyler in 1777. The fort held against British and Tory forces until reinforcements came to help the siege. Fort Stanwix is a national monument and marks a battle won by the Continental Army.

  Those who fought to keep the freedom they came to this new land to find followed directions given mostly through means of the drum.

  The drum controlled a soldier’s day. The drummer in each regiment played different beats to tell the soldiers where they should be and what they should be doing.

  “Reveille” was beat at sun-up. It meant it was time for the soldiers to get up and get ready for the day. Sometimes “The General” was beat instead of “Reveille.” That meant soldiers needed to take down their tents and be ready to march from the camp.

  Troops were summoned at eight in the morning during the summer and at nine in the winter, with the sound of the drumbeat calling them to gather or assemble so the officer could call the roll and inspect the men.

  “Retreat” played at sunset. The roll was called again, and orders were given for the work to be done the next day. The soldiers would then have dinner and time to clean their equipment or to mend their clothing. They played games, cards, and dice, and they pitched pennies. Gambling was not allowed, but…

  “Battle” beat was an unlucky day. The soldiers might fight in a battle, so the drum signaled the army where to march, which way to face and when to fire. The drum was used because it could be heard over human voices and the noise of battle.

  Benedict Arnold lied to the British about the size of the American army: The Battle of Oriskany August 6, 1777.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Still buzzing with phone calls and paperwork, Beth hurried to finish for the day so she could enjoy the weekend. When the phone on her desk rang, she almost didn’t answer it. “Hi, Carl. I’m getting ready to leave. What’s going on?”

  “Thought we could go up to the mountain this weekend before winter sets in. I’ve already packed a few things. How about it?”

  The last thing on her mind was a weekend trip to their little summer retreat on a chilly fall Friday. It meant leaving the office early, which her boss frowned on, but it was the only way she could get home to get ready for the trip before dark. “I guess we could. It is the last chance we have to go up there, so I’ll be home soon to help get things together. Make sure we have enough soda and include some treats. I’m gonna chill out with a good book.”

  She looked forward to getting out of her tight skirt, white blouse, and those nasty clinging panty hose that already had a run in them. A quick slip of the hand, and the unfinished file on her desk went hidden in the top drawer. She knew only too well it would be added to the stack of work she’d have to face on Monday morning.

  A few minutes past four, Beth was on her way out the door, heading for the elevator, purse in hand with an eye out for anyone who might catch her early departure. Once she pressed the down button, she glanced in the mirror on the wall at a bright wide smile. Her long auburn hair swung back away from her face as she shook her head to the side to send it away from her bright hazel eyes. She leaned her trim body up against the side wall of the elevator while she rode down to the first floor. The thought of a wonderful weekend in the mountains had her feeling pretty good even though she hadn’t planned on it.

  The ride home had her thinking of their great little cottage they’d bought up in the Catskill Mountains campgrounds. Afternoon sunshine promised a great day to drive up there.

  She pulled into the drive of the apartment building to see the minivan out front with its hatchback up. Carl was busy loading things in the van. He even had Tabitha’s carrier lined with a soft cushion in the back seat, ready for her to accompany them on their adventure—it was a common thing for their three-year-old cat to go along with them whenever they took off for a little R and R. Like the child they didn’t have, this furry orange tabby fuzz ball filled the void for them.

  Beth gazed at her husband—a great specimen of tall masculine muscle, busy at the task of getting ready for the trip. Carl worked out at the gym three nights a week, and it showed.

  Offering him a quick wave on her way past, Beth hurried inside. He rolled his brown eyes at her and brushed his dark wavy hair away from his forehead as he held an open hand in the air and waved back.

  The kitchen erupted with the fresh aroma of recently brewed coffee. Carl followed her and they went straight to the pot on the counter. “Want a cup?” He poured his and glanced at her. “We better take along warm blankets; it’s getting cold at night. I’m not sure what we have up there,” he told her. “Oh, and by the way, your mother called. I t
old her we’re going to the cottage this weekend, but you should call her before we leave.” Carl took a dishcloth and wiped the counter where he’d spilled some of his coffee. “I know your dad hasn’t been feeling too good lately. Hope he’s okay.”

  “I will as soon as I get out of these clothes and take a shower.” Beth set her purse on the kitchen counter then removed her suit jacket. “Did Mom say anything about Dad? He was supposed to see the doctor. We’re so busy, I feel guilty we don’t get over to see them as often as we should.”

  “No, she didn’t say. She only wanted to talk to you.” He took the thermos out of the cabinet and set it on the counter. “I made this hot coffee for us to have on the way, but there’s enough for both of us to have a cup now.”

  “I need about a half hour, so don’t get too anxious to go. You called at the last minute to let me know you wanted to go up there. I’m not even ready, so let me have some time.” Laying her coat over her arm, Beth picked up her purse then headed toward the door to the hallway. “I left some unfinished work at the office so I could leave early. I could get in deep doo-doo for that.” She started to leave. “Oh yeah, I’ll have a cup of that coffee after my shower.”

  “Go ahead, but make it snappy so we can get going. I don’t want to drive up there in the dark.” Beth turned around to give him a grin before she went on her way. He waved his hand at her and laughed.

  * * *

  It wasn’t long before they were on the highway. The sun rested lazily on the edge of the western horizon, creating shadows of the trees alongside the road that danced across the four lanes.