by CeeCee James
“You’re in your gear,” she noted. Their hug felt awkward with the various police equipment poking into her, and Brad’s chest stiff with armor.
“Just about to start my shift and wanted to stop by.” He looked up the stairwell. “Come on, show me.”
She grabbed his hand and led him up.
“Where’s Myrtle?” he asked, his heavy boots clumping on the polished stairs.
“Watch out for the—”
Too late. He hit the creaky step and jerked at the sharp sound. “Geez!”
“I tried to warn you.” Elise paused next to the statue. “So, here is one of the missing items.”
“Did you ask anyone where it could be?” he questioned, pulling on a pair of leather gloves. Squatting next to it, he examined the base of statue.
“No, not yet. I just noticed it last night.”
He stood again and ran a finger around the empty hands of the fairy. Nodding, he said, “Okay. What’s the next thing?”
Together, they examined the line of portraits, then on to the dollhouse. He ducked under the yellow tape and glanced around the room and then the bathroom where the murdered gardener had been found. After he was satisfied, he crossed the hall to her room. He tested the lock on her bedroom door and made sure the windows were secure.
“You make sure you lock this at night.” He scooped her into his arms and gave her a hard stare. “I’m already worried about you.”
“I do, and don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
He arched an eyebrow and gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I think I’ve heard that one before.”
“I swear, I’ll be fine. Now come on.” She walked him back out to his car.
“So,” Elise hesitated as Brad jiggled his keys. Neither one made a move to leave. “Do you think Aunt Myrtle’s crazy?”
Brad’s eyebrow jerked at the word. He ran his hand over his chin and glanced up at the house. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I think that woman is as sharp as a tack.”
“Even though she’s insisting her sister’s haunting her?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t say I haven’t heard strange stories like that before. She may be a little off there, but something is going on. Something I don’t like you being in the middle of.” He hooked his fingers around hers and smiled. “Have you given any more thought to that defense class?”
Elise shook her head. Just the mention of it had her on edge. “It’s just not me.”
“What part’s not you? The defending part?”
“I think I could do pretty good on my own. I don’t feel like getting up in front of everyone to yell and attack someone.”
“Yeah, but they’re all there to do the same thing. And it’s the instructor’s job to come under fire like that.”
“He’ll be yelling back.” She rubbed her neck as sweat broke out. “I don’t know. I just can’t do it.”
Brad nodded. “Well, I know you can do it. You’re a lot stronger than you think. Look at you, swimming in the Atlantic ocean.”
Elise snorted. Over near the driveway’s edge, a Canadian goose landed with its partner. They waddled and honked, their beaks turning over dead leaves for insects. Ignoring the distraction, she turned back to Brad.
“I was pretty drugged up, remember?” she responded. “And my training kicked in.”
Brad let go of her hand and reached around her shoulders. “That’s right. You proved my point.” Elise groaned as he went on. “Defense training is the same way. They’re just tools that kick in when you need them.”
“Fine. I’ll think about it.” She sighed, with a reluctant half-smile.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He pulled her in closer and tipped his head down, giving her a kiss. Her fingers wound their way into his hair and she melted into him.
He pulled away with a satisfied smile. “Keep thinking about it. I’ll see you in a week.”
“Think about what?” she joked back as he climbed into his car. She waved as he backed out of the driveway.
Elise jogged up the porch steps grinning to herself.
Back in her room, Elise grabbed the diary and stuck it in her pocket with the full intent of finding some cozy spot outside to read it. Instead, curiosity grabbed her and she ended up walking towards the parlor.
There was a room on the other side she wanted to explore. As she entered, she was filled with delight. It was the library.
Inside the door sat a bust of Cleopatra. Her hair swooped in ivory curls over her left shoulder as she stared straight ahead. Elise couldn’t resist touching it, smiling a little at the cool stone.
Built into the tower, the library walls curved around her, stacked with shelves of books. Overhead was a chandelier that lent a sparkling warm glow throughout the cozy space. The entire room was small; it only took her ten steps to cross over to the bookshelves on the other side.
Leather bound books stood at attention, in colors of red, brown, and black. She perused the titles and let out a soft chuckle. Titles reminiscent of her awkward pre-teen years were like old friends. Anne of Green Gables. Little Women.
She stooped to examine the lower shelf. Here were children’s books, standing in line like a colorful rainbow. Probably kept at this height by Aunt Myrtle’s father hoping to entice his children. She looked higher and there were the more serious titles; a book of Atlases, Ulysses, books on war, and the Bible.
A nook filled with cushions enticed her and she meandered over. Settling down, she glanced out the latticed window at the rolling green lawn and the driveway lined with maples. So peaceful. I bet Myrtle was the reader. I wonder how many times she sat here herself?
Elise pulled the diary out from her pocket with the feeling like the sunlight sifting through the window was turning back time. It could have been seventy years ago. Everything still looked the same.
A thread dangled from where she’d left it on the last page she’d read.
Dear Diary
Today was a lovely day. The Christmas festivities were in full swing last night with the tree lighting and Christmas caroling. I accompanied the family to keep an eye on Myrtle. The sweet little thing was all bundled up, and still her nose and cheeks were red.
And I was even surprised by Mr. Montgomery with a pair of slippers! My first pair. I can hardly believe how soft and warm they are.
I did get to go home for a quick visit, but it was much too brief. Still, I was able to hug Charles. He was thin but looked so good. Mama and Papa looked good too, as well as Elizabeth and her husband and children. I confess, I can’t wait to get married one day and have a brood of my own.
Still, I don’t mind if that day stays a bit in the future. I absolutely adore Myrtle. She is a bit precocious but absolutely precious. She made me an embroidered handkerchief, and I will never treasure a gift more. I know well how much she detests sitting still and the poor cotton square is dotted with her blood.
I am a blessed woman.
Yours-
Constance
A throat clearing jarred Elise. She jerked up from the book, feeling slightly bug-eyed.
“I wondered when I’d find you in here.” Aunt Myrtle stood in the doorway staring at her curiously. She toddled forward, her cane tapping on the old, polished floor, her knitting in a satchel over her arm. “This was one of my favorite places growing up.”
Elise shifted her feet to the floor and sat up, trying to surreptitiously hide the diary. “I can see why. It’s so beautiful and peaceful.”
Tap. Tap. Tap. Aunt Myrtle crossed over to the book shelf. As she looked up at the books her face softened with a wistful yearning. Elise could almost catch a glimmer of the little girl she’d once been.
“I’d come in here with Papa. He’s the one that put all of these books on this shelf for me. Every year for Christmas, he’d add three more.” She read off a few of the titles. “Robinson Crusoe. Oliver Twist, Moby Dick. Doctor Dolittle.”
“D
id you read all those?” Elise asked, replacing the diary in her pocket.
“I did, many times over. Sitting right where you are now.” Aunt Myrtle ran a shaky finger down the edge of the shelf. “These are dusty.”
“I noticed the stairs are as well. I was thinking of going over them for you.”
“They are?” The old woman pressed her mouth together, and lines like cat’s whiskers formed at her lips. “My vision isn’t what it used to be. Those two flibbertigibbets. They come and go around here.”
“Your housekeepers? Are they new?”
“New enough. They stay long enough for me to properly train them, then off they fly to get married, or some convoluted thing like that.” Aunt Myrtle sighed. “I supposed I’ll have Hamilton speak to them. Though why he hasn’t yet, I’ll never know. He’s been off his game too, lately.”
“Maybe…” Elise swallowed and then finished with a rush, “the death of the gardener has them shaken?”
“Could be true. You can’t get used to seeing death no matter how many times it happens.” Aunt Myrtle thumped over and sat in the wing-back chair, dropping the satchel on the floor next to her. “Speaking of such, I saw you had a copper here again today.”
“Oh, that was my friend. He was just saying goodbye before he took off for training.”
“Your friend, huh?” Aunt Myrtle sniffed. “Or, is he your romantic interest?”
“Oh,” Elise couldn’t help the smile. “You could say that, but it’s new.”
“My parents had plans for Shorty to be my intended paramour. But I had other ideas.”
“Other ideas, like Mr. Kennington?” Elise smiled.
Aunt Myrtle chuckled. “New York City in the ‘50s was a thing to behold. That man knew how to cut a rug. Won me over before the jitterbug ended.” Her smile fell away. “This place hasn’t been the same without him.”
Elise looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Oh? What are you sorry for? It’s the way of life. It’s just that since he’s been gone, Anna’s been back with a vengeance.”
Elise’s chest tightened at the name of Aunt Myrtle’s sister. She spun her earring a few times. “That brings up another reason why my friend came this morning. There’s been something else that’s disappeared. He wanted to see if he could find a clue as to where it went.”
Aunt Myrtle shifted in her chair until she could see Elise. She held her cane in both hands. “What’s missing?”
“Um,” Elise swallowed, unsure of what the older woman would think. “You know the fairy statue?”
Aunt Myrtle closed her eyes. “I’m listening.”
“The blue globe that one of the fairies was holding has disappeared.”
Aunt Myrtle sighed and turned away, but not before Elise noticed the older woman’s bottom lip tremble. “That was my favorite statue. Papa bought it for me as a wedding gift, along with the one for my dollhouse. The blue sphere was my favorite color, and stood for hope and valor.”
The older woman sniffed and reached into her pocket to retrieve her lace hanky. Patting under her eyes, she continued, “Does that mean my hope is gone?”
“No, no. Of course not.” Elise stood from the window seat and walked over to wrap her arm around Aunt Myrtle’s shoulders. “Do you have any idea who would have done such a thing?”
The old lady pressed the cotton square to her mouth and closed her eyes tightly. She seemed to be holding her breath to try and keep her emotions contained. After a moment, she nodded, just a stiff bob of the head.
“Who?” Elise pressed.
“Anna. She was always so jealous of me.”
This was the second time Myrtle had mentioned her sister’s jealousy. Elise couldn’t understand it. Jealous of what? Of a little girl with scrapes on her knees constantly getting into trouble with their mother?
“Do you know why?” Elise asked again.
Aunt Myrtle cleared her throat and with a slight motion of her shoulders, shrugged Elise’s arm off. She stuck her chin in the air. “Anna was jealous of Papa’s and my relationship. She never could see how Papa adored her, too.” Aunt Myrtle glanced down at her handkerchief and proceeded to refold it. “Of course, with her being his first child, and always under Mother’s thumb to be a proper lady, I don’t deny he was awkward with her. He hardly knew what to do with a young woman about to be presented to the world. He worried for her match.” Aunt Myrtle looked at Elise. “But me, I was easy for him. I was rough and tumble and covered in dirt.”
“It sounds like maybe he treated you like a son?” Elise murmured.
“Perhaps that’s how he saw me.” Aunt Myrtle tucked the folded linen square back in her pocket. “But all that changed after Anna died. Papa left for his business. That’s why that statue was so important to me. Because he brought it to me when he came back home for good. And he came back in every way.”
“In every way?” Elise felt confused at the wording.
Aunt Myrtle nodded. “Yes. When he left he was a shadow of his former self, but when he came back, he was his normal loving and enthusiastic self. He used to play with Stephen—this was before Caroline was born— and they played all sorts of spy games together, with pretend pirate treasure. Papa used his coins, you know, that he had collected throughout the years. The two of them would hide the coins and pretend people were out to steal them.” She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “He sure loved that boy. Poor Caroline, she missed so much. She was only a baby when he died.”
Elise settled back in the window seat. Rain lashed against the window pane. “Your father sounds like a wonderful man.”
“He was.” Aunt Myrtle agreed. “And then he was gone. Then Mother was gone, and it was just me and Mr. Kennington. And then he was gone too.”
Elise felt her heart squeeze at so much loss being rattled off like a grocery list. “I’m so sorry.”
Aunt Myrtle sighed and reached for her glasses. She perched them on her nose and scooped up her knitting onto her lap from the satchel at the foot of the chair. “What can you do? It’s the way of life. You live. You die. You’re supposed to move on.” Her lips silently moved as she counted her stitches on the needle. “Which is why it’s so torturous that Anna has not.”
13
The two sat together in the quiet of the library for about twenty minutes, Aunt Myrtle knitting and Elise watching the rain out the window. The cuckoo clock chimed two o’clock, making both women look up.
“Well, I’ve had just about enough of this,” said Aunt Myrtle, winding up her yarn and tucking it back into the basket. “I’m feeling a bit peckish. Care for a bite to eat?”
Elise stood up and stretched, surprised at how cramped her legs suddenly felt. “That sounds great.” She yawned with her arms still in the air.
Aunt Myrtle pursed her lips. “You keep your mouth wide open like that, you’re liable to catch a bird. In my day, ladies did not stretch like lumberjacks.”
Elise dropped her arms immediately from the sting of the scolding. She followed the elderly woman out of the room and down the hall.
When they passed the dining room, Elise arched an eyebrow in surprise. Aunt Myrtle led her down the hall and through the kitchen, past the counters stacked with various kitchen gadgets, past the hanging shining copper pans, until she finally stopped at a bay window off to the side. A little round table with two chairs sat there.
“This is where I like my special tea,” Aunt Myrtle said primly as she rested a trembling hand on a ladder-back chair. She dragged the chair out, frowning as the wooden legs jittered on the floor from her shaking.
“Here, let me help you,” Elise pulled it out carefully so as not to knock the old lady off balance.
Aunt Myrtle’s lips tightened and she didn’t acknowledge the help. She sat as soon as the chair was out and propped her cane on the side of the table. “Now, let’s have some tea and talk a spell.”
Cookie came over with a tray holding a china tea pot dotted with tiny pink flowers, two cu
ps and saucers, and a cream and sugar set. The cook’s face was flushed and tiny gray curls escaped around the edges of her mop cap. “Good afternoon, mum. Fancy seeing you here today. Summer’s come twice since you were here last.”
“Well, it’s still my favorite place. And don’t you forget it,” Aunt Myrtle snapped. “Now, where are my fresh flowers?”
Cookie looked even more flustered and hurried across the kitchen to hold a fiercely whispered conversation with Charlotte. The young maid looked chastised as she bobbed her head and fled the room.
“They’re right on their way, mum,” Cookie assured, walking over to the bread box. She returned with a plate filled with dainties: little cookies with maraschino cherries pressed in their centers and crescent shaped biscuits dipped in powdered sugar and sprinkled with shaved almonds. The cook set the plate down before turning it in a more pleasing direction towards Aunt Myrtle and stood back with her hands clasped behind her. “Will there be anything else, mum? Shall I make some cucumber sandwiches?”
Aunt Myrtle picked a flake of almond off the plate and brought it to her mouth. “No. This will be enough. Thank you, Cookie.”
The cook bobbed her head, seeming out of breath, and went back to the other end of the kitchen. She pulled a silver bowl from where it had been tucked in the corner and removed the cheese cloth covering it. After assessing the dough’s condition, she proceeded to flour the counter and upturn the contents onto its surface.
Aunt Myrtle filled the china cups with tea. Her hand barely shook as she held the lid tight on the teapot. “This was always my favorite place,” she said, setting the pot down. She moved her cup closer and reached for an almond biscuit. “Right here, right at the heart of the house. I used to come here when Anna was with Mother. And, I came here even more after Anna died. It was here that I found life.” She dipped the biscuit into the tea and took a tiny bite.
“It’s a lovely place.” Elise admired the nook that looked out at a small herb garden. Rain pattered against the basil leaves. “Very welcoming.”