Return to Seven Sisters

by M. L. Bullock

  Doorway to the past…yes, that’s right. And I’m walking through it.

  Chapter Thirteen—Lafonda

  Mama gripped my wrists as she dragged me close to her. “How could you invite him here? Into our home, Lafonda? You betrayed us all!” Lettie lingered in the doorway but did not come to my aid.

  “Me? How could you, Mama? You are the betrayer here, and what has your conniving accomplished? This is all your fault. All of it! You murdered Max—you put our feet on the path of destruction. Now Jonatan and Memphis are gone! How could you do this?”

  Her hand crashed into my face with sudden ferocity. On top of the pain I felt at my neck, her hand stung my skin. But Mama’s painful blow did more than hurt me physically—it crushed my soul. It was further proof that she had absolutely abandoned me. I knew then and there that she would never love me as she loved Jonatan. I would never measure up to his beauty, never be worthy of her love.

  “Evil child! I did nothing but try to help your brother find happiness! That is all! I told you what kind of man this Max Davenport was and how he threatened me…how can you assign all the blame to me, Lafonda? He threatened me because he wanted to possess you! And I put an end to him. I did it because of you. If you have anyone to blame, you should blame yourself! As I do!”

  Stepping away from her toward the door, I pushed Lettie to the side and nearly knocked the woman over. She made no effort to stop me, contrary to Mama’s orders. My eyes were full of tears, and Mama’s terrible accusations pounded into my brain. I could not unhear them, even though I did not truly believe them. As all children did when they heard terrible things spoken about them, I felt every word.

  Mama screamed and began to wail, and I could hear Lettie comforting her with kind words. And who did I have? Who could I go to now for kind words? Mama was right about at least one thing. Philip had betrayed us all…but me most of all because I loved him. I had every intention of marrying Philip—or whoever he was. Who was he?

  “Papa!” I whispered between ragged breaths. “Papa, help me,” I called as I dashed up the stairs and hurried to his room. The hour was late, but he would have time for me. He would understand it all. And if anyone could make Mama apologize, make her repent for her deeds, it would be him. He alone could correct her, and I would insist on it. And he had to know what Mama had done. I believed he did know, but I would make sure.

  “Papa!” I cried as I opened the door to his room and closed it behind me. He was propped up in bed in his nightclothes, and a few candles burned on the small round table beside him. The room smelled bad, as if he had not bathed and as if his chamber pots had not been emptied. That was not like my father. Not at all. I could not see him clearly from my vantage point. I rounded the bed tugging the lace that hung from the canopy to get a better view of him. Was he sick? He wasn’t moving, not even a little. “Papa? It’s me, Lafonda. I have to talk to you.”

  I heard a sound, a kind of moan, and it was coming from the bed—from Papa. His leg moved under the covers, but it was an awkward movement. He did not seem to be trying to get up; it was more like he was convulsing.

  Something was very wrong.

  I cleared the bedpost and muffled a scream with my hand. Papa’s handsome face was twisted into a gruesome mask. His left eye and the left side of his mouth were tugged high, as if he were a puppet on the end of a string controlled by a terrible puppet master. His eyes moved rapidly, and he groaned again; his mouth did not move, but the sounds he made became louder as I drew closer.

  “Papa? Oh, Papa,” I cried at the sight of him. I fell on the bed beside him and took his hand. How cold it was! So cold! Colder than my own had been when the ghost had molested me. “What has happened to you? Who has done this?”

  In another strange motion, his right hand came up and gripped my sleeve. He wanted so desperately to tell me something. At least this hand was warm—yes, only the left side of him was sickly. What could this mean?

  “…ee…”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  He repeated himself with more effort and volume, but the meaning was no clearer. Then I felt cold metal and looked down to find a black metal key tied to a string in my hand.

  “Key? You want me to have this key?” He tried to nod his head and weakly closed his eyes. Still, he did not let go of me. “Papa, please…what must I do? What can I do to help you?”

  His hand released me then, and I realized he had fallen asleep…or fainted, I could not tell. I heard the door to his bedroom open, but I could not look away. How long had he been like this? How long, and why did Mama not tell me about his condition?

  “You should not be here, miss. Leave before your mother finds you. Go now. You cannot help your father—no one can, I am sorry to say.” Lettie’s hand was on my shoulder, but I was in no hurry to leave. What else could Mama say or do to me? What other arrows could she sling at my heart?

  “I will not leave him, Lettie. What is wrong with him? We should call the doctor—if anyone ever needed a doctor, my father does!”

  “You will get no argument from me, miss, but no doctor will come. No one will come here again. We are shunned, all of us. Nobody wants to step foot in this horrible house.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose on her sleeve.

  “I am not going to leave Papa. I will help you take care of him. He shouldn’t be left alone, Lettie. Not for one minute.”

  “We need more help, miss. I cannot tend to both your mother and your father, and you cannot help with either of them. I do not know what we shall do now.”

  Papa began to snore, and it was a gut-wrenching sound. I rose from the bed as I covertly slipped the key into my pocket. No one could know what Papa had given me. How he managed it, I could not venture to guess, but I would not let him down. He wanted me to go to his cabinet, the hidden one in his library, the one in the bookcase that Mama could never find. He hid his wealth there, and whatever was left he was entrusting to me—not Mama. Not anyone else. I would see what it was he wanted me to see, know whatever it was he wanted me to know. In this I would not fail him. The weight of the moment fell on me like a brick wall collapsing to the ground. All of our care depended on me now, for Mama would certainly put us even further in harm’s way.

  “Where is Mama, Lettie?”

  “She has gone to bed. Weeping herself to sleep, no doubt. I would not wonder that she is deep into her wine bottle by now.” Lettie’s miserable expression spoke volumes. Ah, that explained so much.

  I quickly decided on my course of action. “Please empty the chamber pots, Lettie, and open a window. That one at the far side of the room so the draft doesn’t worsen his condition. You won’t have to care for Papa alone. I will help you. No argument now. I am going to prepare some supper for us, but I will return soon.” Lettie breathed a sigh of relief. I was thankful that she did not argue with me. “You should have told me about this, Lettie. You know Mama isn’t well. No more secrets. I am the mistress of Seven Sisters now. Do you understand?”

  Lettie cast her eye at me over her bony shoulder as she dabbed Papa’s forehead with a damp cloth. “Your mother will not like to hear you say that.”

  “Are you so afraid of her?” I asked as I swirled my skirt behind me, my anger pricking my heart. I felt it hardening as each second passed.

  She did not give me an answer, and I did not demand one.

  I had one purpose in mind—to keep us all alive.

  I blinked as my eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness. Papa’s study was blanketed in black, but I knew almost every nook and cranny by heart. I felt alongside me, searching the doily-covered tiger stripe table for a box of matches. The table was one of Papa’s treasures, a gift from a former friend at the shipbuilding company that he helped command for so many years. My hand quickly found the matchbox, and in a few seconds I lit one lamp here and another on his desk. Closing the door behind me to preserve the secrecy of Papa’s cabinet, I quickly returned to the bookcase that housed his small safe. It had been original t
o the house; Papa had been delighted to find it but swore me to secrecy about his discovery. It was a secret I happily kept.

  I removed the key from my pocket and slid books out of the way. There it was! My fingers searched for the keyhole, and I shoved the key into the lock and turned it quite easily. I was surprised to see only a modest stack of cash, but there was also a blue velvet bag that contained a few rings I had never laid eyes on before. Stuffing the treasure in my skirt pockets, I turned my attention to an envelope. My name was carefully written on the front in handwriting I did not recognize. With trembling fingers, I opened it and arranged the papers on the desk.

  Dear Lafonda,

  You do not know me, but I am a friend. I am writing you to warn you.

  It was signed “CJ.”

  Chapter Fourteen—Lily

  I liked the feel of the marbles in my hand. The way they rolled, how cool they felt and how pretty they were to examine—and I did examine each one. I never played with marbles before, since my mother would’ve considered them a “boy toy,” but I loved them and felt lucky that I’d found them. I couldn’t believe someone left them in a glass jar in the attic; I wasn’t sure where they’d come from, but I didn’t try to hide them. I asked if I could keep them, and Uncle Ashland said it was okay.

  I wasn’t even sure how to play a game of marbles—he promised to show me when it stopped raining because apparently you played them outdoors—but I liked rolling them down the stairs, and the house had a big staircase, kind of like one you would see at a fancy museum. That’s kind of what this place felt like except for a few rooms where there was lots of warmth and sunshine.

  Uncle Ashland gave me a red suede bag for the marbles, and I dropped them all in the bag except for one that I kept in my pocket. It was called a “cat’s-eye,” and it was my favorite. I wasn’t sure why, but maybe it was because I liked the name of it so much. Uncle Ashland told me that cat’s-eye marbles were the rarest. That was pretty neat.

  Today everyone was busy downstairs, so I walked up to the top of the stairs and took a seat. This spot and the couch in the Blue Room were my two favorite spots outside my room. There was no better place than my desk, but I’d run out of stickers and paper. Again, we were waiting on the rain to stop before heading off to the store to do some shopping.

  I liked the view from the top of the stairs because you could see anyone coming into Seven Sisters. The only downside was you never knew where the ghosts were going to come from. They rarely used doors. I never saw ghosts until I came here, except in my dreams. But now I saw them whether I was awake or asleep. I tried not to think about the ghost with the black eyes. She was always talking, always whispering, calling my name nonstop whenever I tried to fall asleep. Aunt Carrie Jo seemed to know about the problem I was having, and she’d given me a set of purple headphones and a music player to use for bedtime. They helped drown out the voice a lot.

  I rolled the marble between my hands. It moved perfectly. A perfect circle. Man, I wished I could draw a perfect circle. It was harder than it sounded. My favorite teacher, Mr. Landry, was a science geek, and that was one of the things he taught us. No human being can draw a perfect circle. It might look perfect to you, but it’s actually not. I’d taken this bit of information as a challenge and spent a lot of time in my bedroom trying to draw the perfect circle that school year.

  I had no idea that would upset my mother so much. Although I was only eleven, things had always been weird between us, and the drawing of circles was apparently something that mothers didn’t like. Or at least mine didn’t. And I didn’t think she really liked me anyway. Not that she was mean to me or anything. She didn’t hit me or lock me in a closet. That happened to a girl at school. Her name was Brenda, and her mom locked her in closets all the time. I dreamed about her one time.

  I tried to explain all this to Mr. Landry once, but he didn’t want to hear about it. In fact, I think the whole line of conversation about my parents not liking me made him uncomfortable, so I never spoke about it again. Beyond him, there wasn’t anyone to talk to about anything.

  And I had so much to talk about, so many questions to ask, but there had never been anyone who seemed remotely interested in answering them. I was just the ugly weirdo with hair that was too curly and eyes as green as a cat’s. Nothing to make her extraordinary at all. I couldn’t sing, I hated dancing, and forget cheerleading. The only thing I could do on a consistent basis was have weird dreams. That wasn’t talent show material. Maybe if I had a little brother or sister, I would’ve been good at being a big sister, but I would never know.

  My parents were gone, and they were never coming back.

  I knew this to be true beyond anything else, but I still thought about them every day. I tried really hard to dream about them, but I could never find them. I loved them and hoped one day they would forgive me for being so weird.

  Releasing the marble, I watched it roll down the steps. It rolled across the stair and went kerplunk, and then it rolled across the next stair and went kerplunk. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never get the marble to go all the way down the stairs. Sometimes it stopped on the seventh stair and sometimes on the tenth, but as Mr. Landry would’ve pointed out, I had to continue adjusting my force and angle if I was going to achieve the desired effect in this experiment.

  Aunt Carrie Jo walked by once and glanced up from her tablet to smile at me. “What are you doing?”

  “Conducting an experiment.”

  “Okay,” she said as she tapped on her screen. “Good luck with it.”

  I smiled back as I dug in my bag. “Thanks.” Maybe I should change out marbles. The blue and yellow cat’s-eye was my favorite, but maybe it wasn’t a perfect circle. Hmm…that was a possibility. I imagined I could hear Mr. Landry reminding me that there were no perfect circles. Is that just with drawings, Mr. Landry, or does it apply to marbles too?

  I reached for the only steel marble in the bag. It wasn’t my favorite. It didn’t have pretty colors, but it was larger than the rest of them and felt heavy. Solid. I tossed it up and caught it. Yep. This is the one. So, if I dropped it here and gave it just the tiniest bounce….

  But it’s not going to bounce, stupid. Steel doesn’t bounce.

  Like I often did, I ignored my own advice and gave the ball a little bounce as I dropped it on the first tread. Wow, that was a loud sound. I hoped it didn’t hurt the wood. I knew my aunt and uncle loved this house, probably as much as they loved AJ. And maybe me. Yeah, they loved me, but I couldn’t figure out why.

  Kerplunk, kerplunk, kerplunk.

  Yes! It was going all the way. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve…and then it stopped at the thirteenth step.

  Why? There was only one more to go!

  Well, this is the price you pay when you do an experiment. I’ll do it again but drop it on the right side of the stair this time. I was so close to success now! I retrieved the marble and walked back up the stairs. With my tongue poking out, which always helped me concentrate, I dropped the marble. This time, I dropped it on the right side of the stair, not the left.

  I held my breath and watched it roll and drop, roll and drop. Yes! This was going to work! It would work this time! I clapped my hands as I watched the ball. Only two stairs left now. Twelve, thirteen…shoot.

  Stopped again. Well, at least I figured out that the marbles rolled better on the right side than on the left. Maybe the red one would roll smoother. As I dug in my bag, I heard a sound.

  Kerplunk.

  The marble wasn’t on the thirteenth step anymore. It was on the twelfth! No, it was on the eleventh! The marble was coming back to me! I scrambled to my feet and stepped back from the staircase. How was this possible? How? Gravity wouldn’t allow that. It pulled things down, not up.

  Kerplunk, roll, kerplunk.

  Someone, some invisible hand, was rolling the marble back to me.

  I took another step back because the marble was about to be at the top of the stairs right next
to me. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t speak, and I was curious to see what was going to happen. I watched the steel marble come closer, and then it rolled to the edge of my tennis shoe and stopped. My heart was beating so fast, faster than when I ran track at school. I reached down to retrieve the marble when it began to move again.

  “Stop!” I yelled at whatever invisible hand had control of my marble. “That’s mine.” It kept rolling down the hall and came to a stop at the attic door; to my surprise, the door opened and the marble rolled out of sight.

  I suddenly needed to pee, but I also wanted my marble. These were my marbles! I hesitated for a few seconds and considered telling my aunt and uncle about this weirdness, but I worried that I would never be able to find the marble if I poked around too much. I tied the bag of marbles and set them on the table where they would be out of the way.

  As quietly as I could, I followed the marble into the darkness.

  Chapter Fifteen—Carrie Jo

  “Hey, have you seen Lily?” I asked. “Last I saw her, she was on the stairs with her marbles.” Ashland was studying our house plans. The idea of another undiscovered room bothered him immensely. What if one of the kids stumbled onto one and got lost? I agreed with him, but right now my focus was on finding our niece who had a habit of exploring and losing all track of time. I really hoped she would have accepted Rachel’s invitation to spend the day at the movies with her and AJ, but she’d nixed that idea. It was almost like she was afraid to leave the house. Or maybe she wanted to be here in case her father returned. I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t mind her looking around, but I didn’t like the idea of her going so long without checking in.

  “No. She hasn’t been in here. She does love that bag of marbles.” He glanced up from the plans but only briefly. Once again, Seven Sisters had revealed another secret, but it wasn’t one we welcomed. And we weren’t quite sure what we were going to do about that room. Nail it shut like the rest of the secret passageways? Ashland had removed all the items from it; the creepy tiny room was empty except for that horrible mirror. He put the table on the burn pile since it was falling apart anyway and sent the “bones” to his connection at the local police department—unfortunately, we had a few—for further analysis. All the other odds and ends weren’t worth much. Unless you believed in magic. I prayed that we were wrong…those couldn’t be leg bones, could they?