“I think it’s not beautiful, but rather eerie.” The wind gusted, and at that moment I heard the loud clamor of wind chimes, and I looked to see two large ones dangling from the roof.
She laughed. “If you live here long enough, you will come to love them. They control the mosquitos and other pests.”
We were quiet for a few minutes, each lost in our thoughts. I fiddled with my mother’s ring at my neck. Finally, I spoke. “I wonder why Ma never said anything to me about the family.” Before my aunt could answer me, I had another question. “Do you know why our ancestor left the group?”
“Why else? Love. She met a man who wasn’t part of the sect. And left, and once you are gone, you are dead to them. They don’t tolerate outsiders.”
It seemed that I was full of questions. “What about you? You never married or fell in love.”
Her milk-colored eyes stared out into the darkness and I knew she was seeing her past. “Oh, I fell in love once. But no, I never married.”
I sensed from her tone that it was a story for another night. She turned to me. “How about those dishes? I’ll take you up on that offer of help now.”
But I had one last question. “Do you think we can see the ocean one day?”
“Of course. It’s too far to walk. We can go by the river though. There’s a canoe buried somewhere in the reeds around here. Of course, I haven’t used it in years. The river meanders for about two miles or so, before spilling into a marsh, and then just beyond it, the Gulf of Mexico. That is if the river hasn’t changed its course. The Suwanee River can be unpredictable, you know. I suppose I’ll need to come with you because it’s easy to get lost in the marshland. I can’t see, but I’m still a good paddle. If you explain to me what you are looking at I can guide us easily, tell you which channels to take. I’ve been here my whole life and know it as easily as I know my own house. The river is freshwater, but it leads to a brackish marsh and then small channels lead to the ocean. Of course, we have to pass by their place, so it is possible to get a peek at the mansion.”
I thought of the tower that I had seen earlier in the day, when I rode with the sheriff. “Is it very scary up close?”
“The river takes us by only the front, but once we break out onto the marshes, you can see the gardens as they stretch toward the water. I remember shrubbery blocked everything else, and I was never adventurous enough to pursue it.”
Chapter Four
I rose the next morning in the sort of daze that one often does when waking in a new place. Remembering all the events that brought me to the little cottage, I spent a few moments absorbing my new surroundings. There was a small dresser next to the bed, and a braided oval rug upon the wooden floor. A breeze gusted through the open window and below me on the porch I heard the wind chimes clatter in protest.
I looked out at the stretch of thick green trees. From the second floor the river was only barely visible as a dark thread running through a sheet of green. It would be a good day to go exploring, with thin high clouds in the sky and the sun not overly warm.
I put on my dress. But instead of stockings, which it was too hot for, I went barefoot. Downstairs, I was greeted by the sight of my aunt in the kitchen, standing before the stove with a spatula in her hand. In front of her, a skillet sizzled with bacon.
I marveled that she could be so proficient without vision. She must have sensed my presence, for she turned in my direction and said, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I replied in a cheery tone.
“The bacon’s almost done. If you’d like to help yourself to some coffee in the meantime. And I do have a quick favor. Would you mind heading down to the bridge and drawing some water for us? The cistern is low and the sheriff isn’t checking on me again until Sunday. There are yellow jugs outside in the shed. Each jug holds about five gallons. Should be enough for us for more than a few days.”
Feeling free for the first time ever, I left the cottage without putting my shoes on and set out. The morning was bright, lit by shards of sunlight that dappled the path. The river oozed along beside me. It made me a bit uneasy, the water pressing against the banks, rolling along with gentle ripples. I decided the safest way to gather water was to pull it from the bridge area, where the riverbank had the least amount of undergrowth. I could lean over the side of the bridge and scoop up the water.
I came to the bridge and just beyond it the forbidden gate. But, with no one around to discourage me, I indulged my curiosity and walked right up to it. In the center of the gate, a wreath had been forged. It depicted in the center a man sitting on a throne, and people kneeling around him handing him offerings of grain, wheat and corn. The offerings were not the dark iron, but golden colored, and I imagined that they were covered in a gold leaf.
What a strange group indeed. I peered down the road. There was nothing exceptional about the path that led into the forest of cypress and live oak. It was beautiful, the trees lining the road, the moss skirts of the oak trailing the ground and dancing in the wind. But it was exactly the same scene that I just walked upon from my aunt’s cottage. They were identical. Perhaps it was the gate itself that tempted me. Maybe I craved the forbidden. I eyed the lock. The gate wasn’t merely shut, it was chained and locked. Remembering the dark-haired man from yesterday, another possibility came to me. Perhaps his words acted in the same manner as the gate, unwittingly sparking my curiosity though nothing could come of it.
I went to the bridge, took a few steps onto it, lay down on my stomach, leaned over the side and dipped the jug into the river. I watched as the water filled the container, and as I did so, I heard the distinct clank of the chains from the gate rattling. I wanted to look up, but I risked falling in if I did. I had to wait for the jug to fill, and then I reached with both hands to lift it. I heard the sounds of an engine, and peered up to see Navarre unlocking the gate while his motorcycle waited behind him.
I tried to pull up too quickly and foolishly dropped the heavy jug into the water. It slipped from my fingers and splashed into the river sending a rooster tail of water up into the air that splashed over my face and dress. Worse, the yellow jug was already sinking into the water and I was forced to dash over to the other side, lie down and stretch as far as possible so that I could scoop it up. It was sinking as it moved along and I almost had to dangle from the bridge to retrieve it.
I was too busy focusing on saving the jug and was surprised to turn around to see Navarre standing and staring at me. He had a strange expression on his face, something close to concern.
“You’re too thin to dangle over the edge. You should be careful the water doesn’t take you in and pull you away.”
“You should be careful not to stare.” I wiped some of the water from my face and picked up the jug again, determined to regain at least some of my dignity. “Or give advice when none is asked.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you just did? Give me advice?”
“Maybe.” I took a few steps, holding the jug with both hands as the sloshing water pulled me in different directions. He tried to help me with the jug, but I twisted away from him and in a fit of anger I let go of the jug suddenly. It slammed to the ground. “Can you just leave me be? I thought you don’t like strangers.”
But he had a strange expression on his face. He stepped closer, reached out and lifted the ring that hung around my neck. I almost jumped to feel him touch me. He examined the ring, pulling the necklace so tight I couldn’t move.
When he spoke his voice had a strange quality. “Where did you get this?” He was intently focused on the ring, rolling it between his fingers as he studied it.
“What does it matter to you?” I tried to pull away.
He shot out an arm and held me tight by the shoulders, forcing me to stand there. He stared at me, his eyes glittering. “Tell me how you got this.”
“It was my mother’s,” I said. “Please, let me go.”
His look was cruel. “You have no idea what you w
ear around your neck, do you? A girl like you shouldn’t have something like that.”
“A girl like me?” I said hotly.
“Yes. Like you. Half-starved and afraid of everything. Quivering. This ring is meant for a woman.”
His words made me red-in-the-face angry. “I’m not afraid. Or quivering. And I am a woman.”
“You’re afraid. I can see it in your eyes. You’re scared of your own shadow. You’re scared of the wind.”
I felt like he was toying with me now, drawing me in. But for what purpose? A new sensation fluttered inside me, and I felt very uneasy and strangely very excited, too. I put on a show of bravery and said hotly, “I’m not scared. Not even of your crazy drums that I heard last night as I tried to sleep.”
“So you heard those?” His expression changed. He took a step forward and stood right in front of me, inches from my face and stared straight into my eyes. “Were they calling you?” he said. It was hard to decide if he was threatening me or toying with me, but he seemed interested in what I had to say.
I thought of the drums, the cries of…ecstasy? Passion? I wasn’t sure. “No,” I whispered.
I looked toward the entrance, at the strange golden wreath. He followed my gaze and said in a somber tone, “You don’t know anything about us. And you never will.” He walked back to his bike, turned around and said to me, “Curiosity is a dangerous thing, Zara.” Then he jumped on his bike, started the engine and sped away.
I walked away without turning back and listened as the motorcycle roared down the road. As I passed the gate, something caught my eye. I turned and saw a woman staring at me. She had dark hair that fell loose past her shoulders and thin legs that stretched up and disappeared under the hem of her dress—conveniently unbuttoned above her knees. She caught me assessing her and gave me an unkind, knowing smile. I saw her sharp, pretty features clearly. There was a disheveled languidness about her, a bedroom sort of beauty. “You shouldn’t speak to him that way,” she said. “If you knew who he was, you’d be more careful.”
“I already know who he is,” I said exasperated by the whole endeavor. “He’s crazy.” I stepped carefully, feeling the weight of the water pulling at me as it sloshed around in the jug.
“Crazy isn’t the right word, is it?” She grabbed on to the iron bars, and spoke a bit louder now as if she were pleading her case, “You know there’s something about him. All women seem to know that.”
I let go of the jug, and it slammed to the ground. I looked at her again, but instead of seeing her, my eyes were drawn to the golden wreath that had been designed into the gate. It was a wreath of wheat, and I recognized it from the fertilizer bags that we used at our farm.
Her whole demeanor changed. “What’s your name?” she asked coyly, and then added, “I’m June.”
“Zara.”
“Zara, take it from me, one woman to another. That’s not a man you want to tangle with.”
“Well, you don’t have any worries then.”
I walked away from her and didn’t look back. I carried the water back to Aunt Cleo, poured it into the cistern. I tidied the upstairs, which wasn’t as neglected as my great-aunt had feared. After that, I helped prepare for the laundry. Aunt Cleo had no clothesline; she normally hung the items from the porch. But I didn’t want the clean clothes to soil on the wooden posts, so I found a rope in the shed, a bit thick, but it would do the job, and ran it from the easiest spot—just outside my second-floor window, down to a pine tree near the road. Then my aunt called me in for breakfast. I poured a cup of coffee and we sat down together to eat. “Aunt Cleo,” I asked between bites, “How do you stay so independent?”
She laughed. “The one gift of getting older is the years of routines that I’ve built up. I count on those routines. I know this house inside and out. I know how long it takes to cook bacon, to fry an egg. Beyond that, the sheriff checks in on me and helps with whatever I need. He also drives me to church on Sundays.” Looking up from her meal, she added, “Church is in three days. I do hope you’ll join us.”
“Of course,” I replied. Remembering my wish from earlier I asked, “Do you think it would be okay if I explored a bit today? Had a look around?”
“Of course. I think you’d really enjoy that. You might want to go and walk upriver. It’s away from the town, too, and should be quiet for you. Have a mind, though, dear to stay away from the compound next to us.”
“Are they really that bad?” I couldn’t help but to ask.
“Yes, Zara. They are.” She set her coffee cup on the table. We finished our meal in silence.
I was lost in thought. There was so much about my mother’s family that I didn’t know. My mother was always so reluctant to speak of her childhood. Now I couldn’t help but wonder why.
After breakfast, I cleaned the kitchen while my aunt gave me directions.
“You won’t get lost. It’s very simple,” she said.
I set out for my adventure right afterward. My stride was brisk. After years of enduring, of simply surviving each and every day, a day to myself was a luxury. Even the world around me seemed to celebrate my lighthearted mood. Patches of sunlight danced on the ground and birds chatted happily all around me.
I came upon a heron standing still as stone and winter white as it stood on one leg in the water. As I watched, the bird darted its head into the river and emerged triumphant, a wiggling fish in its beak, which it tossed expertly into the air before swallowing it whole. The poor fish created a wide bulge in the bird’s neck, but the heron didn’t seem to mind the wiggling lump, and it resumed its frozen stance.
As I approached the gate to the Lucians compound, I grew more somber. The massive brick fence shielded so much from my view. I had only the small window that the gate provided me to peer through as I passed by. I wondered what could be so very terrible about the things that occurred beyond our sight. What did the sheriff and my aunt fear about them? About Navarre?
If only I could be a bird and fly above the compound! It would at least satisfy my burning curiosity. I would linger in the air until I knew all their secrets. But right then my destiny was only to set out on a light adventure.
I made my away across the bridge hesitantly, hoping one day I wouldn’t be so frightened of it. Before I knew it, I was on the road and walking north. My feet crunched on the gravel and far away I heard the muted horn of a train passing by.
I was soon drenched in sweat, swatting at mosquitos, and wondering why I had been so foolish to want to explore. I walked beneath the trees next to the water, and to my surprise came upon a man at the water’s edge. Vials and bottles were strewn around him. He turned and watched me approach.
“Hello there,” he called out in a friendly voice and took his hat off to wave. He was very tall, with coppery blond hair and a sunburned face.
I was startled, but recovered quickly and waved back to him. As soon as I did he approached me. He wore a khaki uniform, and I recognized the emblem on his chest. He worked for Roosevelt, for the WPA, same as my father did.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” I said.
“Not to worry. It’s a nice surprise to see another person when I’m working.” He held out his hand, then thought better of it, took it back and wiped it on his pants before extending it once again. I laughed and shook it. Then rather sheepishly he said, “I just saw you right now, and sometimes I don’t think before I act. Name’s Everett. Everett Karst. I work for the WPA, and I’ll just say right off the bat, I’m a Roosevelt man.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry. I like Roosevelt, too. I’m Zara Pendleton. My father works for the WPA, too, fighting the drought.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, he’s planting trees. We…he, I mean, was a farmer. Before the dust storms came. And all the financial troubles.”
“I’m a geologist myself. And I probably wouldn’t have work if wasn’t for the WPA. So, don’t look ashamed when you speak about a man finding work. We’re all in the same bo
at. Me? I’m just happy that I make a wage doing what I love.” He spoke with a boyish touch of pride. “As a matter of fact, that’s why I came over to say hello. The WPA is doing a geological survey in this part of Florida. We’re mapping all of the tributaries and streams. Maybe you can answer a few questions? I’m trying to prove a theory. It’s just a hunch, but I’m excited about it.”
“I don’t know what help I’ll be to you. I only just arrived in Florida. So, I’m not a local. But, I’m happy to assist if I can.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Even if you just keep an eye out it might be helpful,” he said in a reassuring voice. “All I’m asking is that you watch out for something.” He dug in his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card and handed it to me.
I looked at the card. “What do you want me to watch out for?”
“It might be best if I showed you, rather than explained it. But, remember, either ring the department or drop me a postcard if you come across anything unusual at all. I don’t know if my notion will pan out.” He shot me the most expectant look. “I hope it does, though. I would be the happiest man around.”
His excitement was contagious and I found myself rooting for him without yet knowing what his theory was. I stole another quick look at him and realized he was probably five or so years older than me, maybe twenty-five. Fresh out of college, I reasoned, and I reminded him gently, “Are you planning to show me what your theory is?”
He slapped his hand against his forehead. “I forgot. Of course.” He walked over to a rough trailhead and held aside the branches. “It won’t take but a moment.”
“You expect me to follow you into the bushes?” I shook my head.
He laughed. “Aw, don’t be skittish. I gave you my card, you see my uniform. I’m official, and besides, I wouldn’t hurt a fly. Really, it’s just up the way, not two minutes farther up the trail. I promise you’ll be wowed.”
Harlequin E Shivers Box Set Volume 4: The HeadmasterDarkness UnchainedForget Me NotQueen of Stone Page 44