The Ghost of Kathleen Murphy

by Vickie Carroll

Hours later in the middle of the night, Cassie rolled over and reached out for Jacob because in her dreams he was there beside her. But he wasn’t there. They had spent hours talking about the castle and monastery history, local myths, legends and their lives until the early hours of the morning. They both held back on giving up their personal feelings as if testing the waters. It was almost as if they were holding a part of themselves in reserve, afraid to reveal too much, just yet. At some point they both surrendered to sleep. Cassie sat up and looked around but she was alone in the room. Then she noticed the balcony doors were open. Jacob was standing on the balcony looking at the moon.

  “What are you doing out here on the balcony?”

  “Something woke me and then I realized the French doors were open and I got up to close them. Then I thought I saw someone out there, or something. It was a dog or a rabbit, I’d bet. It was just a flash of white running through the garden.”

  “You saw the child.” The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “What child?”

  “The ghost-child, the one that haunts the castle, and the monastery, Jacob. I have seen her, and April has seen her, and now you have seen her. This is what I wanted to tell you last night but lost my nerve.”

  “There are no ghosts, Cassie.” Jacob turned, brushing past her, and went back into the bedroom.

  “You saw her, you just said so. How can you say there are no ghosts?”

  Jacob didn’t answer; he stumbled around looking for his shoes.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home, I need to go before daylight.”

  “Okay, I will see you Saturday then. Can you find your way out?”

  “Yes.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  And then he was gone. Cassie crawled back into bed and lapsed into an exhausted and dreamless sleep.

  Sometime later Cassie woke and for a moment she wasn’t sure where she was. Then she remembered dreaming she was at her old office in Atlanta. She sat up in bed not ready to face the day. She knew she needed to sort out the events from the night before. Her time with Jacob was in its on category of things to consider. The thing that stopped her in her tracks was how to come to terms with the reality of this child, this ghost-child. Jacob’s refusal to believe in ghosts was understandable. She thought the same until it happened to her. Jacob needed to be convinced somehow. Maybe he could admit he saw something if not a ghost. Was she losing sight of how crazy that sounded? The old fear rose inside her making her doubt herself, her very sanity, and she shivered. Maybe this place was not so good for her after all if she was already seeing ghosts.

  Cassie looked at the clock and was shocked to see how late it was. She shook herself from her daydream fog, which had cost her breakfast. There was no time to eat now, she was due in the archives in twenty minutes. She plugged in the kettle to heat water for tea, and stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. Afterward, the contrast of the steamy bathroom, her chilly bedroom sent her running for her robe. She dug inside her travel bag hoping to find a protein bar. “Yes!” She considered this a good omen. She grabbed the bar, and threw on a pair of jeans and an old sweater. It was chilly in the newer part of the building but it was downright cold in the old castle part where she was. The old castle walls were so thick nothing could penetrate them, not even the sun. She sat at her little work table and gulped her tea, burning her tongue a little, and stuffed a bite of the protein bar in her mouth. She felt somewhat revived after her tea, and even looked forward to her work in the archives. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on the old monastery records. She ran a brush through her hair as she put on her shoes. Time to play detective, she thought.

  When Cassie got to the archives April was already there with Bernadette. The work table was set up and separate from Bernadette’s project. There were four stacks of files, each representing fifty years of the old monastery history. There were files containing minutes, bank records, news clippings, photos, and journals. Cassie couldn’t wait to dive in. But of course, she was looking for the 1920’s files and must wait until Bernadette left before digging into that file.

  April looked up and smiled as Cassie came around the table to sit beside her.

  “Good morning Cassie. I hope you slept well.”

  “Yes, thank you, April, I did. Looks as if we have some work to do here.”

  They were both very aware of Bernadette’s presence in the room and were careful with their conversation.

  Bernadette picked up her stack of materials. “Your task is to scan and log the documents into the computer, and print out the log at the end of each day. I’m going to go with the others and our retreat guests for our outing today, but if you have any questions, write them down and we will go over them later.” Bernadette gave them a long look and left.

  “Thanks, we will.” Cassie exhaled in relief. She could see April was fidgeting like crazy, dying to ask her about Jacob. She must have known he stayed over pretty late because she didn’t come knocking on her door for breakfast. She didn’t want to talk about it yet, so she gave her no encouragement.

  “Let’s see what we can find from the 1920s, April. I want to know when the school opened and when it closed, but more than anything, I want to know what the record can tell us about Maeve and Kathleen.”

  “Way ahead of you Cassie, I came down last night and went through the files.” April pulled out a dark green expanding file and handed it to her.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “Funny thing; it was hidden in a box labeled tax records, 1919. Somehow, I knew it wouldn’t be in the regular files. I thought if I were hiding it, I’d put it in a file with a different name.”

  “You are one smart cookie, April.”

  “I think I want to be a detective. Where does one go to school to be a detective?”

  Cassie laughed. “In America we have a police academy. I don’t know about here. But finishing college first is the best idea.”

  “I plan to, of course. I know I have a lot to learn.” April moved some papers over so they could spread out the contents of the green folder.

  The first thing Cassie saw was a yellowed photo of the first class of girls. The date was September 1920, and about twenty girls stood in front of the Sisters. It was hard to make out the faces of anyone, but the girls looked as if they ranged in age from about six to thirteen. The younger girls were in front wearing what appeared to be white smocks over a darker dress. The older girls didn’t wear smocks. They were wearing long and dark dresses, buttoned up to the neck. Cassie scanned the photo in search of Kathleen’s face, but the photos were too faded.

  April read her thoughts. “Yes, I know, I looked at the photo over and over hoping to make out a familiar face.”

  “Are there more pictures?”

  “Yes, here is one that might help us. It’s a newspaper clipping in 1919 when Father Dunn came to visit before he moved here. There is a big story about it and another photo of the girls. I think I know which one is Kathleen.” April’s hand shook a little as she gave Cassie the folder.

  Cassie peered into the faces, scanning across the years, looking for a sign of recognition. It was difficult. The photo was old, the paper yellowed and it was a black and white picture. But at last, there she was. It was Kathleen, there was no doubt. Cassie looked up to see April watching her.

  “You see her don’t you?” April whispered.

  “This proves it, April. Neither of us have ever seen a photo of this child before yet we both picked her out because we have seen her ghost.” Cassie sat back in her chair and closed her eyes.

  “But Cassie, what does this mean? We can’t tell.”

  “It means we keep looking until we find out what happened and if the story is true.”

  “And if it is, then what?”

  “I don’t know. It could mean a lot of trouble and embarrassment for the church and for any family Father Dunn has left, or the creepy Edwin. Not to mention s
tirring up all this again for the family of Maeve and Kathleen, if any of them still exists.”

  “But Cassie, Kathleen won’t rest until the story is told and her sister’s body is found. I just know it. I know the retreat owners won’t appreciate what we are doing either, but I think it needs to be done.”

  “Let’s keep digging. We’ll figure out the rest as we go along.”

  Cassie pulled a legal looking document from the folder. It was something to do with the forming of the school. She pulled out and then discarded one old yellowing page after another until finding the one she wanted. There it was, a list of the girls’ names and where they were from, and as a bonus, a short history of each girl’s family. On the next page, there was a list of the classes taught and the teachers who taught them. She scanned the list and tried to stay calm.

  “Here it is April, Kathleen was eight and Maeve was eleven when their mother first applied to the school to enroll them. Father listed as John Patrick Murphy, deceased, 1919 and their mother listed as Mary Elizabeth O’Hara.”

  “Here is a copy of a report to the Bishop from Sister Agnes in December 1920. It is about Father Dunn and his assistant! She writes about her reservations regarding their suitability to supervise the curriculum, and to teach the girls.” April handed the papers to Cassie.

  Cassie read on, but there was no mention of allegations of misconduct, but she ended by saying that she felt Father Dunn’s personality, and especially those of his assistant, were not suited to teaching children.

  “She wanted the Bishop to read between the lines, April.”

  “Too bad he did not, or he chose not to be involved.”

  Cassie pulled another pile of papers out of the stack. “Let’s see if we can find anything about Maeve’s death or disappearance and Kathleen’s death. We need to hurry though, because when Bernadette comes back and we have scanned and entered nothing she will wonder what we have been doing all day!”

  “Here it is!” April waved an old file folder.

  Cassie now exhaled with great relief. It was an old news clipping attached to a report to the Bishop, again sent by Sister Agnes.

  April read out loud from the news clipping: December 15, 1921. Maeve Mary Murphy, age thirteen, was reported missing from Rosehaven Monastery today. The Sisters reported she disappeared sometime during the night, and the authorities believe she ran away. A search will continue and her family has been contacted.

  April held up another page. “Here is the report, ten days later. Sister Agnes reported they are satisfied Maeve Mary Murphy ran away from the monastery since no one has heard from her since. It is the Sisters’ hope she will be found soon and returned to the school. They just gave up on her.” April chewed on her lip so she wouldn’t cry.

  “She was just one poor little girl listed as missing during a hard economic time. People were trying to care for their own families and feed their own kids I expect. No one would challenge the Sisters and certainly not the priest during that time, even Maeve’s own mother,” Cassie said.

  “So this tells us the story may be right. Father Dunn’s assistant, Edward, killed her and she is buried here somewhere.”

  “Maybe, April, but we can’t make the big jump just yet. Let’s look farther to see what else we can find about Kathleen.”

  Two hours ticked by as they picked up and then cast aside more and more files. “I am going blind trying to read all these old documents,” April said.

  “Keep going, we have to use the time we have in here.”

  “Okay, but…oh wait, oh no, a newspaper obituary; it’s Kathleen’s death announcement. It reads: January 22, 1922. Kathleen Murphy, a student at Rosehaven Monastery, died yesterday from complications of pneumonia. She is survived by her mother… Oh, and Maeve is not on the list as surviving siblings.”

  Cassie took the paper from April. “So now it’s been almost three years since their arrival at the school and they are both gone, both dead.”

  “What have we gotten ourselves into, Cassie, and now can we just leave it alone?”

  “I’m not sure where this will go, but we have to see it through to the end. We know too much now and we can’t drop it. We can’t forget about those girls like everyone else did.”

  “I agree, Cassie, but you know we are in for some problems to say the least. I’m in for whatever it takes.”

  “Oh April, maybe we need to consult someone we trust about all this. I mentioned something to Jacob and he was not open to it at all. I think he saw Kathleen in the garden too, but he won’t admit it.”

  “Oh, I may know why he doesn’t want to think he saw anything. His wife, Lydia, told the Sisters and Jacob about the girl. She even wrote about her in her journals. She said the ghost-child told her what happened, and then asked her to look for her sister, Maeve.”

  “How do you know this and why are you just telling me now?”

  April took a deep breath. “Well, after Lydia died, Sister Inez told me. She said Lydia shared the story with her, but she didn’t believe her. In fact, the Sister called the doctor and told Jacob about it too. Poor Lydia was so crazy on medications then, I am not surprised she killed herself. Sister Inez blamed herself afterward. One night a couple of summers ago when they opened the monastery for the last time for a fund raising event, Sister Inez drank a little too much wine when we were playing scrabble, and she told me.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Sister swore me to secrecy, Cassie, and I didn’t see how Lydia’s death was connected at first. Also, well… I was afraid if I told someone they would blame the Sister, and she’s an old sick lady now. Also, I didn’t know you as well as I do now, and I was afraid. Later, when I saw you liked Jacob, well, I was confused about it all. Sorry, Cassie. I didn’t speak up before as I meant to, but I had to make sure I could trust you because it involved so many people. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, April, I suppose I do. You were a witness to what happens to someone when they tell something that seems impossible to others, like poor Lydia. I can’t blame you for being careful about what you say.”

  “Maybe there will be an end to all this pain when we prove what happened and make it public. As awful as it will be for some people to hear again, it will clear the air, and end the curse or whatever it is holding Kathleen bound here. It is awful to think something someone started back in 1919 is still causing misery today,” April said.

  “With your detective skills and my nosey journalist skills, we will find out what happened, don’t worry.”

  “It does make one think this place is cursed, or at least, there is a dark cloud hovering over it. Truth will wash away the sins as they say, or something like that. We are in it now regardless, so what is our next step, Cassie?”

  Cassie ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know, but back to the real reason I came here, I want to write my own book about a myth or legend. The more I get into this, into Kathleen’s story, Maeve’s story, the more I can see it is their story calling me to write it. This will be my book, April, The Ghost of Kathleen Murphy!”

  “Brilliant, Cassie. At last, there will be someone to tell Kathleen’s story, and Maeve’s story, too. Maybe they will be able to rest in peace, along with Lydia.”

  “Maybe.” Cassie yawned and stretched. “Yikes, look at the time.”

  April gathered up the papers and made copies of the items in the green folder and returned it to the place she found it. They worked for a while longer and took a break for lunch. When they were done, they were both tired but very pleased with everything they accomplished, for the retreat center and for their own special project.

  “Are you seeing Jacob tonight?”

  “No, we are going to dinner tomorrow night, in Dublin.”

  “Oh Cassie, tricky. Will you tell him about any of this?”

  “No, I think not yet. There is no point in upsetting him. Talking about ghosts does upset him. At least now I see why, the connection to his wife’s death.”


  “Speaking of ghosts, I have been thinking…we need to go into those rooms and have a look around. It’s important to find the room of the horrid old priest, don’t you agree?”

  “April, you read my mind. I had the same idea the other day and was going to ask you if you knew where to get a key. Do you know which room or rooms belonged to the priest and Edward?”

  April lowered her voice to a whisper. “No problem about the key. I can borrow one easily enough, but I will have to sneak into the main office to figure out about the priest’s room. They have an old map in there with the layout of our wing. The living quarters of the priest was on the fourth floor. There was a huge apartment up there and a library too. Edward had rooms there as well. During the construction they changed it all but I think the bedrooms were at the very end of the hall on the top. I have not been in there because of the construction, and before, it was all closed up and no one could get up there.”

  Cassie rubbed at her tired eyes. “See what you can find and maybe we can go exploring one dark night.”

  “What did I ever do for fun before you got here, Cassie?”

  “I’m not sure what I did for fun either. What did Lydia look like, do you recall?”

  “I saw her a few times over the years. She was a bit of a mystery woman to me. The last time I saw her she was with Jacob walking the grounds. She had long hair and it hung over her face as if it was a curtain protecting her. I remember how she never looked at anyone when she talked to them, including me. She was always painting or drawing. The next to the last time I saw her was at her easel out in the garden. She was painting flowers. It was my first time here for the entire summer without going home. When she was here after she got so sick, and when she died, I was in school except for the one time I was here during a holiday. That was when she told me those things.”

  “Is there a way we can get a photo of her?”

  “I’m sure Bernadette has one. They are still gone; do you want to go into her room and have a quick look around?”

  “The idea is a bit terrifying but almost irresistible, let’s go, April.”