Dress?
My mother’s wedding dress. The one I wore for the painting. I left it hanging in the closet along with the painting. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take it and be out of your way.
I’ll be finished with the house, soon now.
Good for you. I’m sure you’re eager to be rid of the Lovetts.
Oh, God, Annelise. How can you be so cold? Don’t you know how I feel about you?
Tears rolled down her face.
And I you, Seth, and I you, she said as she walked to his embrace and he buried his face in her hair.
What are we going to do?
I don’t know. I just don’t know.
Elise staggered to her room and collapsed on the side of the bed. She closed her eyes and lay there while she regained her composure. Taking a deep breath, she stood and hurriedly pulled on her shorts and sneakers, noticing how tan her legs had become. She tied a blue shirt in a knot under her bust and jerked the elastic from her ponytail, fluffing her thick blond hair with her fingers. As she hurried down the stairs, she called to her parents but was out the door before they could say anything.
Elise had never been the new girl in town before. She wouldn’t have imagined that as she watched the town’s residents, they were observing her as well.
From behind the counter, Peyton saw Elise coming down the sidewalk. “Walkingest girl I ever saw. Let me tell you, she’s wearing out some shoe leather.”
“You’ll have to sell her mother your store so she can afford to keep her in shoes, Peyton.” Bobby rather enjoyed the standoff between Peyton and Margaret and never lost an opportunity to remind Peyton of the business transaction Margaret had proposed.
“I’d rather sell it to the girl. Get her off her feet awhile,” he said with a laugh.
“Well, she seems nice enough,” Bobby said. “She don’t bother nobody. Maybe I’m crazy, but it’s almost like she belongs here. She don’t seem to be a newcomer like the rest.”
“No, she doesn’t, does she? Nothing like her mother coming in here like she owned me. I wouldn’t mind selling out so much if it wasn’t to the likes of her.”
“Did you ever meet the husband, Peyton? I wonder what he’s like.”
“Oh, he came in with her once. It was your day off. Big guy. Not the kind you’d care to cross. Didn’t say anything. Just stood with his hands in his pockets looking around. He was casing the joint. Didn’t fool me. Not a bit. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Look out, Peyton, here comes the daughter in the door. You make her a deal now. Offer to sell her the store.”
Elise didn’t need to buy anything, but she wanted to establish herself with the townspeople apart from her parents. She knew she was changing. It was almost physical. She was coming into her own, and she wanted to be a part of this town.
Peyton pretended to tip a hat when she walked in. She smiled broadly and saluted. Life was good! She looked around at the assorted merchandise—the purses, the racks of earrings and pins, a turnstile of sunglasses. Her mother would have called it a boutique. She felt sure that for Peyton it would never be more than a shoe store. Elise decided to buy a pair of sunglasses. She chose the most expensive pair she could find and took them to the register. “Sure that’s the pair you want, miss?”
“Yes, sir, I’m sure.” She tilted her head to one side and looked up coyly. “And that’s all I want. Not the entire store.”
Peyton laughed. “Thanks for telling me.” He wiped his forehead with his forefinger. “That’s a relief.”
“Mr. Roberts, I’m sorry if my mother offended you. That’s just her way.”
“Call me Peyton, darling. And don’t you let anything that passes between your mother and me worry your pretty little head. I got a tough hide, and I imagine your mother does too. Used to having her way, is she?”
Elise nodded, her long hair obscuring her face for a moment. “I know there are people here who resent the newcomers like my family, but I wouldn’t trade living here for anything. I hope I’ll come to be accepted.”
“You’re already accepted, darling. We could use a dozen more just like you.”
“I so enjoy exploring the town. It’s different, more real than anything I’ve known before. It’s more than glass and steel and highways.”
“See, I told you we could use a dozen more just like you. You see what the natives see and love. You’ll come to love it too.”
“Oh, I do already.”
“Then we can count ourselves lucky every day that you grace us with your presence.” Peyton didn’t smile and with all solemnity gave a deep bow.
Without meaning to, Elise found herself making a quick curtsy before she started toward the door.
Look at that baby. Annelise be only six years old and she curtsy as good as her mama.
Elise stopped and cocked her head to one side, listening.
“You okay, darlin’?” Peyton asked.
“Yes, thank you. Just getting my bearings.”
“Well, you come back soon now, you hear? Bobby and I would love to have you visit anytime, wouldn’t we, Bobby?”
Bobby looked at Peyton slack-mouthed but cleared his throat and said, “We surely would, Miss . . .?”
“Elise.”
“Elise?” Peyton said thoughtfully. “A beautiful name.”
“Thanks. I like it too. Well, I’ll be on my way and not take any more of your time.”
“I wasn’t joking, Elise. You come back now, you hear?”
“I will. I promise.” She stared at him a long moment. Does he know about the curse on our house?
Peyton cleared his throat. “Something more I can do for you?”
“No, sir, I was just remembering something.” She waved and left the store.
“Well, that beats anything.”
“What, Peyton?”
“I’ve sold a lot of sunglasses in my day, but that’s the first time I ever had a woman buy a pair without even looking at herself in the mirror.”
“Maybe she’s the kind that thinks she looks good in anything.”
“I don’t think so. Don’t think that at all. Just plain odd. But she seems nice enough. I’ll give her that. She’s a looker too, in her own way.”
Elise found a kind of contentment through walking. She lost her pallor and grew softly tanned. And she learned that people wanted to talk to her. It was difficult at first. People in her neighborhood in Atlanta weren’t inclined to idle chit-chat. She was learning, though. She remembered to wave and was comfortable speaking to strangers. They seemed to expect it, and gradually she did too.
Only Nadine Fletcher insisted she stop and visit awhile. Rain or shine, they sat on her porch. Today, she found Miss Nadine settled in her old padded rocker. The porch floor was a shiny gray that showcased multiple pieces of antique wicker.
Nadine didn’t go in much for flowers but had an assortment of ferns.
“I taught school too many years,” she told Elise, “to have time to fool with flowers the way some people do.” She gestured toward her neighbor’s garden. “I dealt with inquiring minds every day. I couldn’t be bothered with black spot and aphids and that nonsense.”
With the passing days, Nadine demanded more and more of Elise’s time. She assumed the role of teacher and treated Elise as if she were the pupil, never allowing her to leave without some parting bit of information. She took to calling her “Miss Gone with the Wind.”
“Well, Miss Gone with the Wind, I guess you think Atlanta has the corner on history.”
“You have to admit, Miss Nadine, it has its fair share. Gone with the Wind lingers like a promise on Atlanta’s tongue.”
“Huh?”
Elise shrugged. “I see things differently than other people.”
“Well, be that as it may, don’t ever sell Apalach short. But for Apalach’s own John Gorrie you wouldn’t be living in the comfort of an air-conditioned house. Bet you didn’t know that, did you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been to the G
orrie Museum. But, Miss Nadine, I’m wondering if we have something more than air conditioning in our house. Have you ever heard anything about a curse?”
“Curse?”
“Yes, ma’am, a curse on our house.”
“Where’d you hear that nonsense? I don’t know what you did in Atlanta, but we don’t practice witchcraft in Apalachicola.”
Elise shifted in her chair. The heat was building on the porch, and Nadine’s voice droned on like a mosquito buzzing in her ear. Elise nodded, aware of the changes she was making in her own life—one step at a time—as she explored Apalachicola. Unlike the street that ran past Miss Nadine’s house, some of the roads were still unpaved and dusted her shoes with a silky gray powder.
She saw homes that had been abandoned and others that should have been. Ragged curtains blew from unscreened windows. Broken lawnmowers and outboard motors littered rotting porches. Bit by bit, heat and humidity, Florida’s indigenous vultures, were eating the very hearts of the neglected shrines. Only half listening, she heard Miss Nadine say, “That big three-story house on the bluff overlooking the river is haunted, not cursed, mind you. Haunted.”
“Haunted?” Elise stiffened and pressed her fingers to her lips.
Nadine laughed. “Don’t you think every town should have a haunted house? Gives it a little character, makes a good thickening for the soup, I always say.”
Elise looked at Miss Nadine’s steel gray hair and square, yellowed teeth. You add your own bit of thickening, Miss Nadine.
“You must have noticed it. I haven’t been down there in years, but I wager it’s still an attention getter. My daddy used to say it was a real showpiece in its day. Even had a ballroom on the second floor. That’s where the tragedy occurred.”
“Tragedy?”
It was some minutes before Miss Nadine answered, and Elise was afraid she’d just stopped talking. She did that at times.
“Oh, yes, it was a tragedy all right. Some people invite tragedy, you know. Annelise Lovett drew it like a magnet. Story goes her first love was a murderer. He’d been accepted by the whole town until he was found out. Talented young man they say. Could draw and build like a master. Fled before the mob got him. She got over him though. She was young enough to forget and wed the man of her dreams.
“There was a fancy reception and dancing in the ballroom. She was so happy, so beautiful, dancing the night away when her long hair caught in the flame of one of the wall sconces.” Miss Nadine threw her arms high over her head, and Elise looked up, imagining the bride’s hair reaching out to the flame.
“The last dance of the evening and quicker’n she’d fallen in love, flames engulfed her, and she ran down the winding stairway heading for the river, for water. Her new husband finally caught her and smothered the flames, but he was too late. Drew tragedy like a magnet. Daddy said she lived less than twenty-four hours, and her husband never left her side, just sat there, telling her he’d love her for all eternity. Eternity.”
“How sad.” Elise felt a catch, nearly a sob, in her throat.
“I’ll say it was sad. Her family never recovered. Never. How could they?”
“Is she buried here?”
“Of course she is. This was her home. There’s an old cemetery some place. On the outskirts of town my daddy always said. They were looking for high ground, you know. Cemeteries need high ground. Even though I never laid eyes on her, I grieve for her anyway. So sad. Sad.”
Get away from my wife! How’d you get back here?
I’m smothering the flames, you idiot.
Coulton gave Seth a vicious push with his shoe and threw his own body on top of Annelise. When Mr. Lovett reached his stricken daughter, only Coulton was there.
Nadine shook her head. “Eternity’s a mighty long time. I’ve heard tell there’s still an odor of ashes, drafts of cold air, even screams.” Glad now to have Elise’s rapt attention, she added another tidbit. “The sound of her feet running down the stairs. Course, I never heard anything personally, but I do know that during the war . . .”
“War?”
“Why, World War II. You don’t think I meant the Civil War, do you? Back then we had blackouts. You know, practice in case of a real air raid. Jenny and Lacey . . .”
“Jenny and Lacey?”
“The sisters who live there, Annelise’s nieces, eccentric and suspicious as the day’s long. Anyway, they were always being cited by the air raid warden for having a light in the upstairs window. Oh, they were very indignant, insisting there wasn’t a light on in the house except where they had blackout shades. It got to be such an issue they started turning all the lights off and sitting in the dark until the practice was over. One night the warden saw a light and went inside to check. Sure enough, the place was dark as a cave, but maybe they turned the light off when they heard him coming. Who’s to say?”
Mesmerized by the story, Elise left Nadine’s in a daze. She walked past the three-story house on the bluff and stared at it a long time, wishing there were some way she could go inside. But unlike Miss Nadine’s friendly invitations, she feared none would be forthcoming from the sisters.
Disturbed by the conversation with Miss Nadine, her pace slowed but followed a direct line to the shoe store.
“Well look-a-here, Bobby. Twice in one day. Bet you didn’t like those glasses after all, did you?”
“Oh, no, they’re fine. It’s just. I . . .” She watched Peyton stare at her with a puzzled look on his face. She let out a heavy sigh and blushed. “The house down on the river. Is it really haunted?”
“That’s what I’ve been told. I can’t prove it, but then I can’t disprove it either.”
“Kinda like believing in God?”
“Yeah, I’d say so, just about like it, darlin’.”
“I’d like to think it’s haunted.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. It’d be exciting, romantic, completely unexplainable.”
“It’d be all those things and more. Sort of a second chance for somebody.”
“Oh, that’s it exactly.” Elise looked around and wondered if she should buy something else.
Peyton smiled, sensing her unease. “I’m an old timer here. Anytime you want to know something, just ask. If I know it, I’ll tell you. No secrets.”
“Thanks. Don’t be surprised if I’m back with more questions.”
“I’ll be waitin’.”
Elise’s imagination was fueled by the thought of a haunted house. She couldn’t quit thinking about it. It hadn’t taken any convincing on Miss Nadine’s part for her to believe it added to Apalach’s charm, but her parents didn’t share her view.
Edwin bristled. “You’re being ridiculous, Elise, listening to the morbid tales backward people tell. They’re trying to scare you. It’s a game to them. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
“But, Dad, I can feel it. I really believe that house is haunted. I’ve even heard our . . .”
“The only haunting,” her mother interrupted, “comes from those sick old women who live there. Why in the world would you want to believe in ghosts?”
“Why would you want to believe in God?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s no comparison.”
“Why not? They’re both belief systems. I’ve never seen a ghost. You’ve never seen God.”
“I can’t believe that you’re thinking, much less saying these things.”
Elise’s words seemed to hang in the air, truth swirling in dust motes of irreverence.
“Ghosts are imaginary,” Margaret said in a disgusted tone, “the stuff of fairy tales. God touches our lives, influences our behavior.”
“If you believe . . .”
“Just stop it!” Margaret interrupted. “I don’t intend to listen to any more of this nonsense. It’s creepy. You need to be in college, that’s what.”
At the mention of college, Elise started backtracking. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I brought it up. It just occurred to
me.”
“Well, don’t let it occur to you again.”
“Your mother is right, Elise. Don’t talk like that. People don’t know you here. They’ll think you’re strange.”
“I’ll try to be more careful.”
Edwin smiled, pleased that for once she was actually going to take his advice.
9
Elise widened her explorations, walking farther and farther past the outskirts of town, looking for a hill, for high ground, for a cemetery. That’s how she came upon the house.
Afterward she would remember that despite the warmth of a sunny day, she’d felt a chill and hugged her arms about her the first time she saw it at the end of the long, dusty road. There was a service station and a fruit stand and then nothing until she came upon the rambling two-story dwelling. It was on the outermost part of town, the road curving and climbing upward to the only home for miles around. There was an eerie silence, as though it was out of space and time, a black and white picture in a Technicolor world. It was a plain, serviceable house in need of a coat of paint. She’d seen other houses more ornate and beautiful, some more rundown; but this place spoke to her. It called to her as surely as if it had a voice.
She’d never approached any of the houses without having been invited, but without the slightest hesitation, she opened the gate and started up the steps. And then she saw him sitting in the porch swing and knew it wasn’t the house that had called to her at all. Her mother would think she was imagining things, but the moment she saw him, she felt her heart contract, and something inside her began to live, something no longer concerned with a cemetery.
He was a tall, slender man, with a look at once quizzical and amused. As so often happened lately, he seemed somehow instantly familiar. She noted the pale blue of his chambray shirt, the navy pants, and that his pale brown, nearly blond hair was thick and needed cutting, one lock hanging over his forehead. The hair was a perfect complement to his smooth, olive complexion. Embarrassed for staring, she stopped short halfway up the steps and realized he stared as intently at her, his eyes an incredible green, reminiscent of emerald roundels.
An older woman appeared at the screen door, wiping her hands on an apron.
House on the Forgotten Coast Page 7