I decided to put off getting dressed until after I’d found a solution to the bubblegum debacle. After slathering my head in any kind of oil, I’d been spending some time in the shower anyway. I put on my slippers, brushed my teeth and headed downstairs.
Brr…it’s cold down here too. Well, what do you expect in a big house like this, Carrie Jo? I reasoned with myself, knowing full well that I was sensing something other than your average draft.
“Kate? Are you here?”
I walked to the kitchen and ransacked the cabinets, but all I found were vegetable, canola, olive and sunflower oils. Not a drop of coconut oil in sight. I guess I could use baby oil, but man, that takes forever to get out of your hair. I tapped my lip with my finger and decided to call Detra Ann. Thankfully, Chloe was having a good morning, judging by the lack of screaming on the phone. That child was not a morning person. My friend chuckled at my predicament and agreed to come over right away.
“Lucky for you, I took the day off. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
I thanked her, hung up the phone and heard a door squeak somewhere nearby. “Kate? Is that you?” Then I heard another door bang shut. But these weren’t familiar door sounds. That wasn’t the heavy front door closing or one of the sliding pocket doors like the ones in the ladies’ parlor. But it was definitely a door. There was no denying that.
Somebody was in here that shouldn’t be in here!
I scurried to the front window and took a quick peek outside but didn’t see any vehicles. Ashland and I usually parked in the back now, and he and AJ were out anyway. I quietly went through the foyer and down the hallway. Both parlors were dark since I hadn’t opened the curtains yet, but there was a sliver of light shining in from the Blue Room. That in itself was not unusual, as the curtains were rarely pulled closed in that room, but this was a different kind of light—this was blue, kind of like a bright LED light. As quickly as I saw it, the light pulsed once and then vanished. Stepping out of my slippers to keep my footsteps quiet, I tiptoed to the door and put my ear to it.
I could definitely hear movement inside, not footsteps but the swishing of cloth—like a skirt. A heavy skirt, the old-fashioned kind that Calpurnia and Lafonda wore. I slowly twisted the doorknob. Did I really want to do this? Shouldn’t I wait for Detra Ann or call Ashland? Or maybe the police?
No. I wouldn’t wait. I couldn’t. There was talking, whispering, but it was too fast to understand. The whispers were too frenetic to have come from living people. They talked over one another; in fact, it sounded like they were saying the same words over and over. I tasted metal in my mouth, and my skin was icy again. These were ghosts! There was only one way to find out who or what was on the other side of that door.
Holding my breath, I opened the door and stepped into a dream.
Chapter Two—Lafonda Delarosa
The rain splattered my face as I raced toward Seven Sisters. I had unwisely lost track of time during my secret visit with Philip in the Moonlight Garden, and now I could barely see my hands in front of my face. Like the gentleman he was, Philip offered to walk back with me. But as Mama hated him so much, even blamed him for Jonatan’s death for some reason I could not fathom, I dared not let him accompany me. Truth be told, it was not so much Mama’s wrath that I feared, but I felt such guilt from being absent and unavailable to Papa, who seemed to need me more each day. Papa had taken to seeking me out in the evening; sometimes he liked for me to read to him, and other times he merely wanted to talk. Funny how he never spoke to Mama nor she to him. It was as if they existed in two different worlds and had pledged never to allow their paths to intersect. Lately, Papa liked to tell me about his beloved Spain, and he recounted memorable days from his childhood and even occasionally mentioned his brother.
I hoped Papa had not come seeking me out while I had been away. Philip had been waiting for me, as he always did. I loved those moments when I first walked up on him. He was always pacing, thinking and dreaming. As always, when he spotted me, he called me Lady of the Garden or assigned me some such romantic title. Yes, those were always pleasant moments. And afterward, after our conversations and walks, I hated returning to the dreary house, and I hated passing through the dead gardens even more; but for Papa, I would probably never return.
I could not stand to visit the Rose Garden; it was as if nothing wanted to live here anymore. Even though I understood that roses went dormant in fall and winter, I hated the sight of the bloomless bushes and the endless rows of brown vines and evil-looking thorns. Despite the heartbreaking sight and the perpetual sadness, I could not leave Papa even though Philip suggested that I do just that. He had not gone so far as to ask for my hand, but I assumed he eventually would.
Since Papa sold his portion of the shipbuilding business—or was forced to do so by his partners, if one believed Mama—and as our family had plunged into scandal, we were now in dire straits. Although Papa would not confess this to me, I knew we were in trouble financially. How soon until our coffers were completely empty? We employed only two servants. Lettie remained with us, but she was the only servant in the house; Caleb cared for the grounds. Papa’s horses were being sold off one by one, as were other things that I was not supposed to know about such as Mama’s silver and some of the bronze statues that had littered Papa’s bookshelves. How was it that in such a short time we’d fallen from such great heights? Once upon a time, the Delarosa family had been rising stars amongst Mobile’s elite, but now our names were spoken only in whispers. Like the Cottonwoods before us. We’d all fallen into a deep, dark well called scandal.
I did not want to return to the house, but there was no hope for it. Where else would I go? Even Philip, my friend, my only friend, didn’t like coming to Seven Sisters despite having been such a fan of the place in the beginning. He rarely mentioned his Beaumont connections of late. I would never forget the first time I saw him in the Moonlight Garden. Had that really been two years ago?
I gathered up my skirts and ran as fast as I could in hopes of avoiding becoming completely drenched by the clouds that thundered above me. Blue lightning etched across the black sky, and I swallowed at the sight of it. What a foreboding sign!
I slowed as I approached the back of the house. There were no candles lit, which seemed strange to me. But it was probably for the best. Yes, it was best that Mama not know I’d been visiting with Philip, a man she sternly disapproved of. I could not imagine her reasons except to say that in her despondency she blamed him for Jonatan’s death, as she blamed everyone but herself. Even in death, Jonatan meant more to her than I ever had in life.
And then the rain began to fall even more heavily as I reached for the doorknob. It was as if the rain too were saying, “Don’t go in there! Stay outside!” Stepping inside, I clumsily closed the small door that led into the Blue Room and stood dripping on the carpet.
I had every intention of slipping upstairs to change my clothes before seeking Papa, but a strange sound caught my attention and drew me away from my plan. It was the sound of voices, many voices, and they were coming from somewhere in this room. I leaned against the door and peered into the darkness. I could see no one, no one at all, but I heard chanting. And I heard Mama! Who were these people, and why was she amongst them?
She was crying and mumbling, and then the chanting faded. I heard footsteps, and they were getting louder. They sounded like steps on wooden stairs. How could that be? This was not a familiar sound to me. I raced across the room and hunkered down behind the blue sofa. I hated thinking that I might damage the blue velvet or that the carpet would be ruined by my dripping skirts, but I felt compelled to hide. Some primal instinct drove me to the shadows. I got very still so that whoever approached would not hear the sounds of dripping water and wrinkling fabric; I was a mess of wet silk. Then I heard a clicking sound, a soft clicking like a latch on a panel door or perhaps a window latch. Mama was still crying, but there were other voices too, a woman’s voice and also a man’s. Who were these people? H
ad I been so long from the house today that I’d missed the arrival of these visitors? Surely that must be the answer. As if it heard my internal questioning, the clock on the mantelpiece began to chime. How could it be nine o’clock already? And then the footsteps were in the room!
Peering under the sofa, I squinted but saw only the hems of two skirts. There was no man here, just two ladies. Mama was speedily exiting the room; it was easy to identify her as she constantly wore black now and her sobbing was so familiar to my ears. But who was her friend? I could not discern the color of the woman’s gown, but this was clearly not Lettie because the fabric was too fine for her. The stranger was humming now as if she were quite pleased with herself. She paused with a candle in her hand, and the light flickered in the room. How I wanted to look at her face! I felt as if I should know it, but I did not move to get a better look. I could not be detected.
Does she know I am here? I held my breath as if the stranger might hear my breathing or my heart pounding. The woman blew the candle out, and we both remained in the dark. She waited another moment and then walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. I sat up and clutched the back of the couch, the wood comforting beneath my cold fingers, and waited for what seemed like an eternity.
Mama and her friend had not come from the outdoors. They must have been in one of the secret rooms, one that I had known nothing about until this very night. After Jonatan ran away with Memphis, I figured out that there were hidden passageways in our home, but I clearly had not successfully navigated all of the secret spaces. I wanted nothing more than to investigate now, but my wet skirts and shivering body prevented it. I waited at the door, hungry, tired and hoping that the stranger wasn’t prowling on the other side. I was sure that she’d known I was here in the Blue Room. But how could that be? Whoever this person was, I knew that I would not like her.
I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart. The air smelled sour and sickly, and my stomach flipped as I reached for the doorknob. It creaked as I opened it, but I peered out and saw that the hallway was empty. Seizing the moment, I left the door open and ran up the stairs to the comfort and safety of my room. I closed the door behind me and waited, listening to Mama crying and calling for Jonatan. I did not hear Papa, but I did hear something else.
I heard the sound of laughter, soft feminine laughter. And then a door closed, the guest room door across the hall. Who was our mysterious guest? Yes, there was an unwanted visitor here at Seven Sisters, and I would soon discover who she was and what she wanted.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that our lives depended on it.
Chapter Three—Carrie Jo
The dream faded around me, and I found myself standing in the doorway of the Blue Room. Lafonda was nowhere to be seen, but I could still feel her cold skin like it was my own and experience her emotional conflict in the wake of discovering the presence of a mysterious guest and a secret room.
Shaking my head to clear the remaining memory cobwebs, I blinked my eyes too. There was a secret door in here somewhere, and that thought disturbed me. I thought I knew every inch of this house, but Seven Sisters apparently had not given up all her mysteries. Not yet. I walked over to the wall where Lafonda had witnessed the woman with the candle appearing and saw the figures fleeing. I searched using my hands and pushed on the wooden panels but found nothing to indicate there were any hidden spaces in here. Well, that scene had taken place over a hundred years ago. It was totally possible that the panel had been locked and screwed shut since that time. Had I really expected to find it so easily?
What was going on in Lafonda’s time? Ever since the tragedy, seeing Jonatan take Memphis’ life, I had purposely shut myself off from dreaming about them or dream walking here at Seven Sisters. I had witnessed enough tragedy for now. Austin had been right all along. I had grown into this dream walking and had gotten stronger, much stronger. And since seeing Lafonda, my curiosity had been stirred and I couldn’t help but feel that the young woman wanted me to see what was happening to her.
You are probably making too much of this, Carrie Jo. And you have other things to think about right now. Like the massive hunk of gum in your hair.
Right on cue, I heard tapping at the front door. With a sigh and one last look around me, I headed off to open it. As expected, it was Detra Ann and her sidekick and daughter, Chloe.
“Whoa. You look terrific. Come on, Chloe. We have major work to do.” Detra Ann’s beautiful daughter made raspberries at me and clutched the plastic zippered bag that her mother held up to me. “I have everything we need right here. Let’s get you fixed up, girlfriend.” She hugged my neck, completely oblivious to the stickiness I felt, the residue of the dream world that I’d walked into. It happened every time, this strange feeling that I’d taken a bit of the past with me into my present. I smiled at her and pretended that everything was okay, that I hadn’t been interacting with ghosts or watching a mystery unfold that threatened to pull us all into its web. At least Detra Ann was happy today. For a long time, she’d been in a bad place. She was eventually diagnosed with postpartum depression, but the truth was she had been struggling with her mental health before the pregnancy. But everything seemed good now. She and Henri loved spending their days at Cotton City Antiques, and I was glad that Henri had so successfully escaped his legal troubles.
“We better work in the kitchen. There’s probably better light in there than in the bathroom,” I suggested as we headed in that direction. “Thanks for coming on such short notice. I can’t imagine why my son did that. I swear that kid has a candy addiction.”
As if I’d said some kind of magic word, Chloe began to whine and repeat the word “candy” over and over again. “Not you too. How about a gummy snack? Can she have some gummies?” I asked my friend as she put the wiggling baby on the floor and began arranging her “hair emergency” kit on the bar.
“Sure, but not too many. Hey, did you decide if you’re you going to bring AJ to gymnastics? Polly is holding a spot for him.”
I laughed at the idea of my son doing gymnastics. Then again, it would be a good way for him to burn some energy. For a little while, things were normal. Detra Ann chatted about life and her latest antique acquisitions, which included a collection of blue glass. I tried to stay focused on the conversation, to be present in the moment, but my mind was drifting back to the dream walk. Occasionally, I tossed in a “That sounds interesting” and an “Oh, really?” My blond-headed friend didn’t seem to mind at first, but then her own supernatural powers kicked in and she walked around to face me. You could never lie to Detra Ann Devecheaux.
Still holding the fine-tooth comb in her hand and shaking her small bottle of mineral oil, she asked, “What is going on with you, Carrie Jo?”
“What do you mean?” I laughed nervously, remembering my promise to Henri that I would not involve Detra Ann in anything paranormal or supernatural.
She’s just not strong enough right now. CJ.
“You can’t lie to me, girl. Why are you even trying? Out with it.”
I shrugged and handed Chloe another gummy as she paused her play activities. “I would love to tell you, but I’m under strict orders not to do so. Sorry, Detra Ann. It’s not a big deal anyway.”
She stomped her leather-clad foot and said, “My husband thinks I’m a fragile flower. But I’m not—you know I’m not. I am stronger than he believes, and I’ve been getting better every day. Lots of people go through a bad patch every now and then. I mean, he’s not one to be throwing stones. I could go on and on about his imperfections.”
I patted her hand and said, “He never said you were a fragile flower, Detra Ann. And I sure he has loads of imperfections; so does Ashland, even though you don’t believe it. But really, I think Henri was just trying to look out for you. You and I both know how hard it’s been on you since everything with TD went down, and so many things have happened to us all since then. Never believe that any of us think you are weak. I sure as heck don’t.”
“But you can’t do everything by yourself, Carrie Jo. It’s not healthy. Wait a minute. I have something for you. I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while. Hold this.” She handed me the grungy comb and set the bottle on the table as she dug through her very stylish leather purse. Detra Ann was the classiest, best-dressed lady I knew. I sensed the air becoming ooey-gooey, kind of open for a dream walk. I hoped it stayed that way because I desperately wanted to go back and see what Lafonda saw. Yes, I would do that as soon as my company left. She removed her wallet from the purse and dug through a stack of business cards before finding the one she was looking for. She handed it to me, and I gave her the comb back.
“Gulf Coast Paranormal? What’s this for?”
“It’s a paranormal group and a very reputable one. They are friends of Henri’s. They’ve been doing a lot of work around Mobile. And did I tell you I have a friend who owns a building downtown? Well, these guys helped him and his wife figure out what was going on there, and the activity eventually stopped. The guy’s name is on the card. Midas, that’s it. You should call him, Carrie Jo.”
“Why? We all know that there is paranormal activity going on here. Or have you forgotten running out of the house with Mr. Cottonwood’s ghost chasing us?”
She stopped her combing and said, “Of course I haven’t forgotten that. And I haven’t forgotten the chandelier or the possessed ballroom or anything else…I just wonder why things like that keep happening here. Maybe these guys can help you figure that out. I mean, wouldn’t you like to put these ghosts to rest once and for all?”
Return to Seven Sisters Page 32