Return to Seven Sisters

by M. L. Bullock

  I felt like I needed to comfort her, but I didn’t have a clue what to say. “I don’t think I agree with that. Death took Max Davenport, remember? Max died, and not by your hands. Whoever killed Max is the one who started all this, not you. But I agree with you that your husband isn’t the same man. The real Ashland would never say some of the things he’s said or expressed his thoughts in such a…well, let’s just say he’s not the same Ashland.”

  She leaned across the bar and laid her head on her hands. She didn’t cry but sighed deeply.

  Then I had an idea.

  “Tell me, Carrie Jo. What do you know about this Max?”

  Chapter Five—Carrie Jo

  My eyes widened at his question. “Uh, not much, really. Do you think he’s influencing Ashland?” I hadn’t thought of that, but it might be a possibility. At least it was a better theory than I had—that my husband had secretly been a jerk all this time and I never knew it. The antique cuckoo clock in the kitchen sounded off and surprised the heck out of me. That had been Ashland’s idea. He had found it somewhere and instantly fell in love with it. The bird made a terrible racket now, as if its batteries needed replacing.

  Both Henri and I glanced at it. He raised an eyebrow but then said, “Maybe Ashland’s condition is just some sort of residual effect from his illness.”

  How strange to hear my suspicions confirmed. And now I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe this was the real Ashland. The inappropriate, unfeeling jerk. “Maybe what we’re seeing now, the way he’s behaving, is who he really is. Maybe…”

  “That’s bull, and you know it. I would say he’s under the influence of someone—a dead someone. Likely this Max guy. Sure, you probably did change things when you interfered with Lafonda and Jonatan’s situation. No, don’t get mad at me. You know I’m telling the truth. But I think what’s happening with Ashland is more than that. I think there’s a spirit here, moving behind the scenes and working hard to further its own agenda. I’m glad Austin is trying to help, but his help has not been a rip-roaring success so far. Let me help you, Carrie Jo. Let me set up some cameras and digital recorders around the house. Let me see what I can capture. Maybe I’ll get some clues about who we’re dealing with.”

  “I know you want to help, but Ash will never go for that.”

  Henri smiled patiently. “I think you’re wrong, but I can be discreet.”

  “Fine, but keep it to yourself. I don’t want to stir up any trouble with Ashland.”

  “I’ll do it now. I’ve got some stuff in the car. It would be ideal to take care of this while Austin has Ash occupied.”

  “All right, but hurry up. I’ll go check on Detra Ann.”

  “She’s in the Blue Room, last I checked. Staring out the window.”

  “What’s up with her?” He just shrugged, and I walked out of the kitchen as he disappeared out the side door and went to his car. “Detra Ann?” I called out. Poor thing. Of all of us, she needed this drama the least. She’d had a hard pregnancy already. “Detra Ann? You in here?”

  I walked through the downstairs rooms wondering where she could have gone. I checked in the Blue Room, the ladies’ parlor, the men’s parlor and the downstairs study. Finally, I headed for the ballroom, the place where she and Henri had tied the knot. That’s where I found her.

  She was sitting on the floor, barefooted, with her back turned toward me, staring up at the ceiling as if she could see something I could not. I glanced up at the massive crystal chandelier but didn’t see a darn thing. Without looking at me, she said, “I think Muncie is looking for you, Carrie Jo.” Her voice sounded kind of sing-songy, like she was hypnotized. What in the world? I felt my skin creep up my back.

  “Detra Ann? Are you okay?”

  She didn’t turn around to meet me and kept staring up. “Yes, but I did see him. I see things once in a while; I just don’t like bragging about it.” Geesh, that was hurtful.

  “Detra Ann, look at me. Please…” She didn’t turn to face me, so I walked around to see what the heck was wrong with her. I squatted in front of her and stared into her beautiful eyes. That’s when I saw them. Her eyes had changed—they were solid black and staring at me now. Then she blinked, and they were back to normal. She was Detra Ann again, reminiscing about her beautiful wedding. I nearly passed out from the scare.

  That was as weird as the afternoon got. Austin and Ashland came inside and declared the maze and the rose garden ghost-free. I could have told them to save themselves the trouble because we had a ghost right here with Detra Ann, but why stir up a hornet’s nest? At least the two guys were getting along. For the moment.

  “What do I do now, Austin? What’s the next step? We managed to get Lafonda back in her body, but for how long? She’s suffering, and if we can’t figure all this out, we can’t guarantee she’ll live long enough to play her true role in it all.”

  “It’s certainly complicated, but I’m visiting a friend this evening who may have some advice for me.”

  “Thanks so much for helping us. I’m sorry about Ashland’s behavior. He’s normally not this abrasive, but I guess you know that.”

  Austin hugged me before he left, and thankfully Ashland didn’t see him—he was too busy hugging up on Detra Ann, who plainly wanted to be left alone. Henri came in and whispered that he’d finished setting up his cameras and stuff. After about an hour, we were saying our awkward goodbyes. I hated that nobody made the same old stupid inside jokes, that my husband was calling me “honey” instead of his usual “babe” and that Detra Ann seemed so miserably lost. I hated all this. I would never have dreamed that returning to Seven Sisters, this house I loved with all my being, would be such a sad thing.

  “Good night, y’all!” I called to them as they walked down the drive to leave. Ashland was watching television in the living room, and I came back in and reached for my purse and keys. He looked up and patted a spot on the couch beside him. “So, hon. You want to go upstairs and talk about whatever comes up?”

  “No, I want to go pick up our son, in case you’ve forgotten about him.”

  “Hey, that’s not cool. Like I’d forget my own son. Give me the keys; I’ll go get him.”

  “No thanks. I’ve got this.”

  “Why don’t you go unwind or something? You’ve been acting uptight all day. You’d think you would be at least a little happy that I’m not going to die.” Suddenly he was standing in front of me, towering over me. “Is that what you want, Carrie Jo? For me to die?”

  For a moment, my vision blurred, completely transforming Ashland’s face. The effect lasted only a few seconds, but I swore I was staring at Max Davenport! It was true! Henri had it right…Ashland was being influenced. Did Max want to possess him?

  Dumbfounded, I didn’t speak. Ashland grabbed the keys from my hand and snapped, “I’m sure the drive will do me good.” Without another word, he walked out of Seven Sisters and into the muggy Alabama air. I waited around for a few minutes, thinking he would be right back with AJ, but he sent me a text about thirty minutes later: Taking Junior to the Dairy Queen. You want something?

  Junior? What the… Calm down, Carrie Jo. I told myself. I texted back: No thanks. I’m going to take a bath. Drive safe.

  Climbing the wide staircase that led to Louis’ room, I said a quick prayer asking God to watch over them and bring them both home safely. And to bring Ashland back to me. I loved the claw-footed tub in the master bathroom. It was one of the treats I loved most about this place. I loaded it up with bubble powder and waited for the bubbles to appear.

  I shed my clothes and slid into the warm tub water. I welcomed the quiet, but I wished I’d thought to close the bedroom door. There was quite a draft blowing through now. It was getting dark out, and I could see the moon rising perfectly from the big window. I leaned back in bubbled bliss and breathed a stress-relieving sigh. I imagined I heard footsteps in the hallway once, but there was nothing else after that.

  Baby Boy would be home soon, and I would ha
ve to kiss the face of my child and look into his wrong-colored eyes and know all over again that I did that to him. And if I changed that, what else had I changed?

  I couldn’t cry. I was emotionally exhausted. The day had started horribly. The doctor had me convinced that Ashland was near death, but when the second test came through they knew something miraculous had happened. And what would happen if we changed it all back? I couldn’t say—I didn’t know anymore.

  Suddenly, I felt tired. Very tired. Then that warm honey hue wrapped around me and I wasn’t in my tub anymore. I was standing outside Callie’s door.

  No, this was Lafonda’s door now.

  Yes, this was a for-sure, true enough Carrie Jo dream. At least while I was dreaming, I could only watch and observe. That was a relief. Now, why was I here?

  I had to know what was happening in this house—both then and now.

  Chapter Six—Lafonda

  I dreamed about a train last night. It looked very much like the L & L, the black and gold one we’d taken from Virginia to North Carolina. In my dream, Jonatan sat beside me, hopping up and down as he always did when we sailed through the countryside. He did so love a good train ride.

  “Now Jonatan, sit still and I will share my bag of sweets with you.”

  I thought Jonatan would say something silly like, “Yes, please, Miss Delarosa,” or “Miss Fancy,” as he liked to call me when he wanted to insult me. I didn’t think it much of an insult, but Jonatan had never been terribly creative when it came to insulting people. He just didn’t do it. Until now. The dream-Jonatan let out a string of profanities, words I was sure that my brother never knew and certainly never said. Stunned as the dream-Jonatan began to shake my shoulders, I woke up screaming to find a bald-headed man who smelled of liniment and peppermint tugging at me.

  “Miss Delarosa, I’m Dr. Farnell. You have to wake now. I’m here to help you. That’s a good girl. I have something that will ease your pain, a medicine that will help you. Sit up now.”

  I could barely move as excruciating pain gripped my head and neck, but I mouthed the words, “Thank you.” My mother and Lettie propped up my head, and then the doctor fed me a spoonful of sour-tasting medicine. I collapsed back on the pillow, my damp hair sticking to my face. The liquid burned my throat but also numbed it as it made its way through my body.

  The four of them hovered around me like nervous angels dressed in black. As if by some miracle, the nasty medicine began to quickly do its work. I felt better than I had in days. Had it been days? Exhausted, I closed my eyes for a second, just to rest, and quickly dozed off.

  But it was a strange sleep. Very strange indeed. Thankfully, I was not on the train again, yet I imagined I could hear it whistling softly in the distance.

  I heard Mama whispering to Papa about me and then about Jonatan. Mama’s voice betrayed her worries for her son. He was not where he should be—he’d disappeared, and he and Memphis had not returned. So it was true? It wasn’t just a horrible dream? My brother was lost to me forever.

  “Jonatan…” I whispered, and Mama quickly quieted. I heard Lettie tidying the room and overheard the doctor’s stern warning concerning laudanum overuse. Through the cloud of memories, I imagined that my father stroked my forehead. He rarely did anymore but had done so quite often when I was a child. I welcomed being treated like a child again. I wished that I were a child, Jonatan and I, two children with no worries in the world.

  I don’t know how long I slept, but I woke feeling the ache in my head returning. As I found myself alone, I reached for the small green bottle on the table beside me and fed myself another spoonful of the medicine. My hands shook, but compared to the pain that threatened to overcome me again, I didn’t fancy the idea of waiting on Mama or Lettie.

  Yes, this was sweet relief. I felt lighter, light as a feather. So light that perhaps I would float to the ceiling! Maybe I could. Oh goodness, what if I took too much? How would I know what the proper dosage was? I didn’t care. I was free! Free from pain!

  I called out for Lettie again, but she didn’t come. Thirst drove me to leave my sweaty bed. On weak legs, I staggered to the table near the door and poured myself some water. I managed to get some in the cup and drank it quickly. My tongue felt thick and dry, so I drank more. Feeling refreshed now, I went to my door and opened it when I finally remembered how to turn the knob. For some reason, doing so brought a smile to my face.

  I stood in the hallway now; it was empty and dark, except for a lone lamp shining on the table. What time was it? How long had I been asleep?

  Leaning against the cool wall, I gasped for breath. I felt as if the walls were closing in on me. Were they shrinking? I thought perhaps they were. And I was getting larger! Oh, God! Would the walls smother me? I crawled on my hands and knees now to avoid getting pressed down by the ceiling. It sagged deeply, as if it would collapse at any moment!

  I have to get out of here, go outside and step in my garden. I need to count the roses! Why do I feel this way? I have to go outside…but not down the front staircase. Down the servants’ staircase. From there I can go left and through the Blue Room. Then to my garden!

  ***

  Lafonda! I thought as she disappeared before me. I had every intention of following her down those stairs, but she was gone. Yet I was still at Seven Sisters, and this was not my time period. The Montelimar clock and the thick Persian rug were proof of that.

  Then I heard another voice. A man’s voice, deep and husky. I followed the sound to Jonatan’s room, a room Ashland and I now used as storage for seasonal displays.

  But that was not what I saw now.

  From my vantage point, I saw a young woman’s naked body. And there was Max Davenport sitting on the edge of the bed tenderly stroking her bare ankle. She giggled softly in appreciation.

  “Jonatan, I want to introduce you to my friend. Her name is Patty.”

  “No,” the girl said with another giggle, “it’s Maggie.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Maggie. This is my friend, Maggie. Come say hello to her. It’s rude to dawdle, Jonatan.”

  Then I saw Jonatan, clearly agitated. I was so close I could see the stitching on his dark pants and tan shirt. “She has no clothes on. Make her put on her clothes, Max.”

  “Maggie, do you want to wear clothes?”

  I couldn’t see her face and didn’t hear her voice, but I assumed from her laughter that she did not. Jonatan continued to pace, and as he walked past I could see that he had his hands over his ears.

  “Come now, Jonatan. You can’t be rude to a lady. The lovely Maggie has something she wants to show you.”

  “I don’t want to see it. Make her put on her clothes!” Jonatan’s ragged fury surprised me.

  “Fine, fine. Dear Maggie, will you please cover up? Your naked beauty is too much for my friend. He seems to be the epitome of rudeness tonight.”

  I smelled cigar smoke and watched Max light one as he leaned back in the chair opposite the bed. The girl had covered up with a flimsy sheet but so far hadn’t moved.

  “What are you going to do when you are married, Jonatan? Fumble about in the dark? Am I not your friend? Haven’t I told you the truth, always, about everything?”

  “Yes,” Jonatan answered him, his head still turned away from the girl on his bed, “but I want her out of my room. Girls don’t come in my room, except my sister. Make her leave, Max. And she has no clothes.”

  He rocked back and forth now in the straight-backed chair. The girl mumbled something derogatory, for which she was given a slap. After administering her punishment, Max strode back to his chair and crossed his legs. I could see his shiny black shoe dangling.

  “Don’t speak so rudely about my friend. Don’t forget you are a guest here, dear Maggie. Now get dressed. You will find your payment on the table beside you. Be sure you leave using the back stairs, or I’m afraid you might encounter Mrs. Delarosa. That would be a mistake.”

  The young woman quickly dressed and kept her mou
th shut. I gasped as I saw her walking toward me. What do I do?

  “No, wait. On second thought, go this way.” Max rose from his chair, and the girl came to him as he pushed open a hidden wall panel. “Step through and go to the end of the corridor. Take a left and then go down the stairs.”

  She hesitated and complained in a whiny voice, “But it’s dark in there.”

  “I’m sure a lady of your sort needn’t be afraid of a little darkness. Off you go now.” He pushed her through and closed the door behind her.

  “Max, you can’t speak to ladies that way. It’s not proper. I know that.”

  “What am I going to do with you? How can I be expected to teach you anything about women if you are afraid of a little girl? I didn’t do anything to her that she didn’t want. And she wanted you, just as Memphis wants you. You must learn how to give ladies what they want.”

  “I don’t believe it. Ladies aren’t like that…girl. Memphis would never do that.”

  “Oh, but she would. Yes, she would for you. You have no idea how beautiful you are, Jonatan. How lovely you are to women. And others.”

  Jonatan giggled to hear that, sounding much like the hireling who had just left. “My mother says I am the most beautiful man in the world. I think she is wrong.” Then he carefully added, “Only women are beautiful. Men are hand-some.”

  “Men can be both. So can some women. It’s a matter of taste, really. But you are wrong about ladies, Jonatan. They like showing men their bodies. If a woman shows you her body, she wants you to do certain things. She expects you to show her your appreciation for her beauty. It is the social expectation. You must be prepared to please Memphis, if this type of opportunity should arise with her.”

  Suddenly, Max turned his attention from Jonatan and stared at me full on. There was no doubt that he knew I was there.

  “And see? Here’s another lady itching for our attention. Ah, I warned you not to come back here. But here you are…” He walked toward me with a lewd grin on his face, his cigar dangling from his fingers. I screamed as hands grabbed me.