Somewhere Between

by Patty Wiseman

  “Thank you so much. I’ll take great care.”

  “Good, I’m sure the children await their lessons. We’ll see you when we return.”

  She curtsied again and turned to leave, relieved no mention of the previous night’s melee was made.

  The children resorted to fidgeting during class time. She chalked it up to excitement of the up-coming trip and allowed them a little slack.

  Elizabet’s face beamed when the lessons concluded.

  “You’re excited to see your great-aunt this weekend, Elizabet?”

  “Oh yes, she’s my favorite. Her house is big, with a huge porch that goes all around the house. I love to play there. She has two dogs. I especially like fishing because I always catch the most.” Her enthusiasm rushed out of her.

  She smiled. “It all sounds wonderful. Have a good time.”

  “You aren’t coming with us?”

  “Not this time, dear. I’ve lessons to prepare for next week.”

  Elizabet frowned, slightly, but the smile returned in an instant.

  Phebe hugged each of them as they left.

  From an upstairs window, she watched the carriage pull away with Mr. Powell at the reins.

  Now, she had the opportunity to look around, and maybe, find clues to Edmund’s dilemma. He’s looking for a diary. Maybe he’s looking in the wrong place.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairway.

  Winston’s white head popped into view. “Mrs. Powell asked me to give you the key to the library. She said you liked to read.” He held out his hand.

  She took it. “Yes, thank you. I’ve almost finished Moby Dick. I’ll have two long days without anything to pass the time. They were gracious to allow me permission.”

  “See that you’re careful. Mrs. Powell has worked extensively to preserve the collection they’ve gathered over the years.”

  “Of course, Winston. I love books as much as they do.”

  He nodded and left her by the window.

  Fatigue suddenly overwhelmed her. She decided to skip lunch and treat herself to a nap. She sighed as the soft bed embraced her and fell asleep immediately.

  When she woke, the sun was down, light in the room dimmed.

  How long did I sleep? The clock showed five-thirty-five.

  She hurried downstairs.

  A note pinned on the cupboard caught her attention in the empty kitchen.

  Winston and I go home to our families on this weekend. Since you didn’t come down for lunch I didn’t have a chance to tell you. We’ll be back Sunday eve. Hope you rest well. There’s plenty of food in the ice box. M.

  The light in the window faded, as did her resolve.

  I’m completely alone.

  She scurried around to light a large candle on the table, fumbling for the match box by the stove. When light illuminated the room, her courage returned.

  I have no idea how to use the gas lights in this house. I must rely on the candles.

  At the table, she watched the flame dance, casting shadows across the walls.

  “Silly me, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I’m starved. First thing is to get something to eat.”

  A roast beef sandwich on sourdough bread satisfied her immediate hunger. She noted there was plenty to last for two days. “Bless you, Myrtle.”

  She picked up the candle and headed into the great hall. The library door across from the study beckoned to her, but the key was upstairs.

  The house was eerily quiet, despite the creaking timbers and the wind blowing outside. The larger candles were kept in the bottom kitchen drawer. She retrieved several and made her way upstairs.

  The key fit perfectly in the small pocket of her dress. A quick pat of the pocket and armed with the biggest candle, she set off.

  Heavy green drapery gave the library an eerie feel. Not one ray of moonlight peeked through. The candle provided just enough light to see the titles as she skimmed across the rows.

  So many wonderful literary works here. I’m in heaven.

  Each book she pulled from the shelves made her heart flutter as she thumbed through pages she only dreamt about reading. Sometimes, she sat down and read a few passages of a particular volume. Excited to find even more treasures, however, she lay each book on the desk for future exploration.

  The flickering light cast shadows on the walls, but she hardly noticed, lost in the joy of being surrounded with so many great works. She wasn’t sure how much time passed, hours maybe, until the wind rattled the windows and caught her attention. A storm was blowing in. Suddenly, she remembered.

  Edmund!

  THE STORM ADVANCED QUICKLY, MAGNIFYING every sound, every shadow, as Phebe hurried to stop Edmund’s inevitable onslaught. The candle threatened to extinguish in her haste. She cupped one hand around the bobbing flame and continued.

  On the second floor, thumping broke the silence.

  He’s here!

  Her pace quickened until she stopped in front of the sky-parlor door, gasping for air. She pushed it open.

  “Edmund. Stop.”

  He stared at her, a book in each hand, brows knit. “You?”

  “Yes, I’m late, but I’m here.”

  He stumbled over her name. “Phe…be? Ms. Phebe. I thought you weren’t coming.”

  “I said I would.”

  He looked at the books on the floor. “I can’t find it. I must find the diary.” His eyes glowed, his body was slightly transparent, but the sadness on his face expressed utter pain.

  “I know, Edmund. We must figure this out. I’m here to help you.”

  “But, how? I look every night, but never find it.”

  “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place. Why do you always look here, in this room?”

  His brow furled, he squinted, as if seeking an answer. “I don’t know. I’ve tried to leave, but I can’t. The knob won’t turn, I can’t grasp it. I’m trapped here every night.”

  “But, I’ve seen you in the cemetery. I know you can appear in other places.”

  “It’s Mary. I can go see Mary’s grave.”

  “Any other graves?”

  “No, only hers.”

  “None of this makes sense, Edmund, but I’m going to try. You are stuck in the room where you died.”

  “Where I was murdered.”

  “Yes, murdered. You visit Mary at her grave. You are stuck in a pattern of some kind. Maybe I’m supposed to disrupt it.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a ghost before, only heard stories. My brothers used to scare me with frightening tales of spirits lurking in the woods, but to no avail. My personality isn’t bent toward things of this nature. I’m a no-nonsense type of person. Practical. Logical. So, if I can see you, something is afoot. A mystery needs to be solved. It’s the only explanation.” She put the books back on the shelf and took her seat in the rocking chair.

  Edmund followed suit, settling in the winged-back chair. “I’ve never seen anyone in all this time, only this room and Mary’s grave. I do play the scene, over and over, in my mind, however.”

  “The scene?” She leaned forward.

  “Yes, the night he poisoned the sherry.”

  “So, it was poison. And Jonathan did it?”

  The room shook, Edmund’s eyes took on the familiar fierce glow, the amber shards sent shocks of light around the parlor. “It had to be him.”

  Phebe tried to calm him. “Mary, think of Mary. She wants you to be in control while we figure this out.”

  Slowly, his eyes returned to their normal color, the amber darts retreating into a sea of green. The room ceased to vibrate. He whispered, “Mary.”

  After he took on a solid form, she resumed, “Did you see him put the poison in the glass? Was he in the room when you drank it?”

  He frowned. “I didn’t actually see him pour it. We talked of my wedding. Mary’s and mine. I shared our happiness, our hope for the future, talked of her beauty. He didn’t reply, just observed me with the dark h
ooded look he gets when he’s up to no good. Eyes half closed like he’s bored to death. I don’t know why I told him. He was always jealous of me because I was older.”

  “So, he offered you a drink and you took it.”

  “Not exactly, I poured the sherry. But, he was there.”

  She scratched her head. “Why does Mary keep telling you to find the diary?”

  He blinked several times. “She says the answer is in there.”

  “Answer? Then, she knows it was your brother who murdered you?”

  “I don’t know. She always persists I find the diary, that it tells of something I should know.”

  “Are you able to see Mary, talk with her?”

  The amber light in his eyes dimmed. “No, I don’t see her. I hear her voice. It whispers to me.”

  “So, she’s unable to cross over to you, I suppose. Stuck in time, perhaps?” She walked to the door. “We don’t have much time. The family will return Sunday evening. We only have two days to figure this out. Come. Let’s try something.”

  He followed her. “Try what? What can we do?”

  “Try to step over the threshold. The door is open now, so no problem with the doorknob.”

  The floor held his attention, eyes fixed on the doorstop. He looked up briefly, then lifted his foot.

  “That’s it, go ahead and cross over.”

  A slight buzzing filled the room. His foot stopped just short of the open door.

  “I can’t. Something is pushing me back.”

  As soon as he lowered his foot, the buzzing stopped.

  Phebe stepped over the threshold. “Nothing stops me. It has to be from the other realm.” She re-entered the room. “So, we’ll have to try something else. Where is Mary’s bedroom?”

  “To the right, two doors down.”

  “I’ll be right back. Please don’t throw any more books on the floor while I’m gone.” She started to leave.

  “Wait.” He took her hand.

  To her surprise, the connection was instant, his hand was warm and strong. She trembled.

  “Why are you doing this, Phebe? I’m nothing to you. Why would you take a chance for me?”

  Their eyes locked. The green brightened when he looked at her, the amber flecks danced. His intense scrutiny burrowed into her soul.

  Breathless, she whispered. “It seems I am the one chosen to solve this mystery, and…because you deserve to have answers.” Carefully, she extracted her hand and tried to slow her heartbeat, looking past him to the winged-back chair. “Wait over there. I won’t be long.”

  The darkened hallway made her pause and grab the candle from the table. A lightning bolt lit up the sky and thunder rattled the windows. The storm didn’t appear to phase Edmund as she glanced back at him. He sat straight in the chair, hands on his knees, looking at the bookshelves.

  Why am I doing this? He’s a ghost.

  The touch of his hand stirred emotion in her. She never had a beau. Her life was complete caring for children. But somehow, his touch awakened an emptiness she long buried.

  Too late for me, but at least, I can help Edmund and Mary reunite in the afterlife. I must find that diary, so he can go to Mary. She hurried forward, looking right and left. Do other ghosts inhabit this house? Are there more secrets hidden up here?

  The door to Mary’s room squeaked when she pushed. She held the candle forward to light the room, peeked her head inside, and let her eyes adjust.

  A large canopy bed draped with rose cloth at the corners caught her eye immediately. A chaise lounge sat on the left wall, a rocking chair on the right, both covered in a beautiful rose pattern. Beside the bed was a lovely, white bassinet.

  A baby. No one mentioned a baby. The cemetery showed Mary and Jonathan married after Edmund’s death. They must have a child together.

  She whispered to the empty room. “How very odd. Everything in the parlor is covered with dust. There isn’t any in here. Someone is taking care of this room. But who?”

  She glanced to the left. A large bookcase stood in the corner. “Ah, here we are. I bet the diary is here.”

  Flashes of lightning added some illumination. She held the candle in one hand and ran her index finger over the books, one by one, hoping to discover the diary. Row by row, she continued, her left-hand fighting fatigue from the weight of the large candle. The bottom row was impossible to see. She placed the candle on the floor and knelt on the cold wood floor. Still no sign of a diary.

  She retrieved the light, knees protesting as she stood. “Now what?”

  A slow scan of the room revealed a nightstand by the bed. The small drawer opened at her touch. She glanced inside. “Notepads, writing utensils, a scented sachet…”

  Shadows danced across the walls as she moved from the drawer to the center of the room. “If I were Mary where would I hide my diary?”

  She looked at the bed, the bassinet, the book shelves. “Under the mattress, maybe.”

  Nothing.

  Then, she spied a small travel trunk in a corner beside the chaise.

  The latch wasn’t locked, and the lid lifted easily. On top lay neatly folded dresses, under those, lace undergarments. Shoe boxes rested on one side. Baby things on the other.

  “Someone packed for a trip. Could the diary be…” She slid her hand deeper under the clothes and wiggled around until her fingers hit a solid object. A book.

  She pulled it out, opened it towards the middle, and read, Dear Diary. Jonathan confessed to me today.

  A LIGHTNING BOLT FLASHED AND bathed the leather cover of a well-used journal in a bright light. An ominous clap of thunder followed as the light faded.

  Phebe said aloud, “I found it.”

  She flipped it open, but immediately snapped it shut. The words she read hung in the air. Dear Diary. I met the most wonderful man today. His name is Edmund.

  “This is wrong. These are Mary’s innermost thoughts.” As she struggled with the pang of conscience, she rationalized. “The answers are here, but how can I intrude in this dead woman’s past? Her confessions are not meant for other’s eyes. I can’t do it.”

  The book lay lightly in her hand. The journal wasn’t fancy, simply plain and ordinary.

  A shadow crossed the window.

  She shivered. A dark cloud. The storm must be over.

  The wind ceased, thunder rolled in the distance, but outside, the rain stopped and calm replaced the rampage.

  “Edmund must see this. He’ll be so pleased I found it. It’s his to read, not mine.”

  She closed Mary’s door and hurried to the sky-parlor.

  The door hung half open, but the room was dark even with the candle. There was no sign of her ghostly friend.

  “Edmund?” she whispered.

  No answer.

  “He’s gone.” She studied diary. “Will he come back? What am I to do with this?”

  She waited in the doorway, hoping for his return, but finally returned to the rocker. “I’ll wait. Maybe the storm scared him off.”

  An hour passed, still no sign of him. The temptation to open the journal and read more almost took over in the eerie silence, but she held firm.

  “Edmund must read it first.”

  Another half hour passed.

  “He’s not coming back tonight.”

  Reluctant to leave, she stood and walked slowly to the door with one more hopeful glance behind her.

  In her room, she put the book on the nightstand and stared at it. “What if finding the diary sent Edmund back to the unknown? What if he never comes back? Do I dig deeper or do I put this back and forget it exists?” She paced, shaking her head, trying to reason. “He appears because Mary told him to find the diary. If I put it back, he might reappear. Oh, what shall I do?”

  A decision must be made before the family’s return. If finding the diary freed Edmund from the nightly agony he’d suffered since his murder, then maybe the purpose was fulfilled. But, to what end?

  “This isn’t my business. Thi
s family has secrets, but it’s not up to me to reveal them.”

  Instead of sleep, she tossed and turned, wrestling with the heavy weight on her shoulders. “Myrtle did warn me to mind my own business.”

  The next morning, it was hard to open her eyes against the sun streaming through the window. “But, I must start the day. I’ll worry about the journal tonight.”

  Downstairs, a knock interrupted the meager breakfast she managed to scare up. After a last swig of milk, she opened the door to Jake.

  “Good morning, Ms. Phebe. I watched the family leave yesterday and didn’t see you with them. Cook and Winston always go home on these weekends, so I figured you must be all alone. Thought I’d stop by and see how you are faring in this old house, all alone.”

  “Hello, Jake. You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes. My first night alone was a bit intimidating, but I got through it. Come in. I was finishing breakfast.”

  For the first time, he smiled at her, restoring a more childlike countenance, casting away the more serious man-of-the-family look.

  “Don’t mind if I do. I could use a cup of milk.”

  “Good.”

  She poured as he perched on a stool.

  He took a big gulp. “Anything you need help with? I’m done with my chores. I’ll be back this afternoon to feed the horses again.”

  “I could use some help with the gas lights. I fumbled through the night with candles.”

  He laughed. “With the storm and all? You’re one brave lady.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I survived.”

  He slid off the stool. “Well, let’s get to it. Maybe tonight won’t be so scary.”

  After the lesson, Jake bid her goodbye. “I can come back tonight if you like.”

  She hesitated. It would be nice to have company, but what if Edmund comes back?

  “Thanks so much, Jake, but I’ll be fine. If I can get through a night with a storm using only candles, I can make it tonight. You’re needed at home.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, leave a note in the barn by the first stall. I’ll come running.” He opened the door and was gone.