House at Whispering Oaks

by Hargrove Perth

  Cordie walked to the car and got in without saying a word. She really didn’t know what to believe.

  It does explain his strange clothing. I meet a guy, the perfect guy, who makes my heart flutter and he’s a ghost…just my luck! Cordie thought while looking at her friend.

  “Are you going to be ok?” Cricket asked.

  “I think so, I mean, I’m not really sure what to think.”

  “Yeah,” Cricket said.

  “What did he say to you?” Cricket asked, hoping Cordie would tell her more.

  “He was just very polite and walked me home.”

  “Jon walked you home!” Cricket exclaimed and pulled the car off the side of the road. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I thought he was just a guy, you know, maybe the caretaker or something. My aunt told me that someone comes periodically to mow the grass over there, so I thought that was who he was.”

  “Wow,” Cricket whispered as she shifted the car into first gear and pulled back onto the dirt road.

  They drove without talking until Cricket pulled into the circular drive in front of the Bolivar Estate.

  “Look, don’t tell anyone what I told you. The last thing I need is for everyone to think I’m a freak.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

  Cordie opened the car door to see her aunt standing on the porch.

  “I have to go. I will call you when they leave. Maybe you can stay the night if my aunt doesn’t mind.”

  “Sure,” Cricket said, but she had the feeling Cordie was going to be busy all evening by the number of cars parked in the drive.

  “Cordie, you are going to be late,” Aunt Sadie called out.

  “Coming,” Cordie said reluctantly before waving goodbye to her friend.

  “I can’t wait for you to see what I have for you,” Aunt Sadie said as Cordie stepped onto the front porch. “I am sure it is just your size.”

  She followed her aunt inside and up to her room. Cordie’s mouth dropped open as soon as she stepped into the bedroom. On her bed, was the most lavishly beautiful dress she had ever seen, dark blue with lace trim and white petticoats, and to the side sat the hoopskirt to fill out the fullness of the bottom of the dress. Cordie suddenly realized it was meant for her, and she grimaced.

  “It was your great grandmother’s. I found it in the hidden room and thought you would like to wear it tonight.”

  There was no doubt the dress was beautiful, but it wasn’t Cordie’s idea of the dress she would wear to meet the other Daughters of the South. She was hoping for a nice black dress and pearls.

  Oh God, she wants me to wear that uncomfortable contraption, she thought.

  “It’s lovely,” Cordie lied and forced a smile. “But I have no idea where to begin.”

  Sadie smiled and hugged her niece.

  “Here,” she said, handing Cordie a thin chemise. “Put this on and we’ll start with the corset.”

  Chapter Ten

  Daughters of the South

  Cordie emerged from her bedroom, unable to recognize herself. She gazed over the bannister into the foyer of Whispering Oaks. Hoop skirts swayed and women chattered away about the weather, the past, and a hundred other things Cordie couldn’t care less about. She was uncomfortable and itching from her garments… and completely in denial about what she had learned at Petulia’s house.

  “Well, come on, child,” Aunt Sadie motioned from the top of the staircase.

  Cordie carefully made her way to stand by her aunt, fidgeting as she became accustomed to the dress. She would endure this ridiculous affair. She would walk around and talk to the friends that had gathered. She would do all of this for one reason. Cordie intended on finding out more about Jon. Someone in this room had to know more about the Schelling family.

  While Aunt Sadie would be the best person to ask, Cordie planned to save that as a last resort. Aunt Sadie had been so incredibly protective since she had moved in; she wasn’t going to bring it up again. She certainly didn’t want to give Aunt Sadie something else to be worried about.

  As her feet hit the main floor, Cordie scanned the room. Her aunt smiled at her and made her way to greet her guests. Cordie stood dumbfounded. She had no idea how to emerge into this culture. She wished so badly that she had listened to her father. He had actually seen Jon. It would have been incredible to hear the story.

  Cordie’s stomach churned with nervousness. She had never quite experienced the level of anxiety that went along with being in this strange new place with these strange new people. She eyed the spread of food by the parlor and decided she would just fill a plate, find a seat, and eat while she scoped out the room for potential candidates to interview.

  She observed the assortment of hand cut sandwiches… cucumber and cream cheese, cherry tomato with pesto, ham, and mustard. She placed a couple of the delicate rolls on her plate and moved along with the line. Scones of every sort adorned the table. Plates of assorted veggies with dips were placed in the center. Cakes and éclairs sat at the end of the table.

  Cordie filled her plate and found a seat in the corner of the room with the best vantage point she could find. She quietly chewed her food as she observed the women carry on with one another. Part of her wished she knew them better, but she wouldn’t give up her time in New York with her parents for anything in the world.

  “Hello, dear,” said a woman suddenly beside Cordie.

  “Hi,” Cordie replied nervously.

  “This must be a lot to take in after living in the city,” the lady with kind eyes, whispered, as she took a seat by Cordie.

  “It’s different. That’s for sure,” Cordie replied.

  The elderly lady stifled a giggle and made herself comfortable. Cordie watched as she straightened her dress with unyielding grace and adjusted her posture. Her lavender frock was perfectly pressed and the beige lace that trimmed her neck was subtle and beautiful. Cordie wondered for a moment if the lace was supposed to be beige or if the dress was so old that its white lace had faded.

  “I suppose we don’t really have much to talk about,” the lady laughed. “You just look so familiar to me. In that dress, you look like you stepped right out of a portrait.”

  “Um, thanks,” Cordie said. “What’s your name? I’m Cordie… or Cordelia.”

  “I know who you are, dear,” the lady said. “I’m Ruby.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ruby,” Cordie replied. She still wasn’t sure how to strike up a conversation with someone she had never met, but she was making an effort lately. For the sake of her aunt, she was trying to be a proper lady.

  “Who in your family was in the war?” Cordie asked, unsure if she had even worded the sentence correctly.

  “It was my great grandfather,” Ruby said with a smile. “I never got to know him. My grandfather would tell me stories. I know he was a war hero, but my grandfather told stories of a surly man. He was unkind to his wife and children, very strict and seemed to harbor some great secrets of the war.”

  Cordie listened intently. Ruby sighed.

  “War is not romantic. It’s not the grand spectacle they make it out to be on the television. Those men see their friends die. They bury their fathers. They see things they will never forget, and have to cope with those visions the rest of their lives.” Ruby spoke, her eyes misty.

  “I’m sorry,” Cordie replied.

  “You have nothing to apologize for, dear,” Ruby answered. “My grandfather was kind to his children because he didn’t want them to live in the same environment he was raised. So, my father, and his three sisters were loving individuals. I grew up in a very happy home, and I’m thankful for that. Everything happens for a reason, I suppose.”

  “I really need to believe that,” Cordie said.

  “I always tell my grandson this. And now, I will tell you. It’ll all come out in the wash.” Ruby smiled.

  Cordie liked the expression, and she thought for a moment it may be true. Time had the ability to hea
l wounds, to a certain extent. Ruby seemed like a thoughtful lady. Her slight, elderly frame didn’t keep her from holding her shoulders back, drawing her hair into a cascade of perfect, silver ringlets, or applying her makeup perfectly. Cordie noted that she was the most beautiful elderly woman she had ever seen. She hoped she could be half the woman Ruby was.

  “Are you married?” Cordie asked, not ready for the conversation to end.

  “I was,” Ruby said. “I lost Monroe a few years back. But, we had a long, happy marriage. Our son lives in Charlotte with his wife, and his son is an adult now. He recently went through a terrible divorce. I suspect my granddaughter will be coming to stay with me for a bit. I don’t get to see them much. ”

  “That’s so nice,” Cordie smiled.

  “It’s hard to let your children go, but really, all you ever want is their happiness.” Ruby nodded. “I hate to see them in pain.”

  Cordie smiled. She knew her parents would want her to be happy. She so wished she could bring herself to make them proud. She missed them so terribly.

  “I have another question if you don’t mind me asking,” Cordie added.

  “Sure, dear,” Ruby obliged.

  “I’m doing a report for school, and I just need some more information,” she stammered nervously. “Do you know anything about the Schelling House? My friend and I chose it to do our history report on.”

  Ruby’s face lit up.

  “What?” Cordie asked.

  “My dear, I know quite a bit about the Schelling House. My great grandfather was Carter Schelling. He was the sole heir to the estate after the war.”

  Cordie gaped at Ruby. Sole heir. Jon had died somehow and Carter must have been his brother, Cordie thought while looking at Ruby.

  “Wow. Looks like I hit the history report jackpot,” Cordie said.

  A rich laugh escaped Ruby’s lips. Cordie’s mind raced. She was uncertain of what to ask. She didn’t even know where to start. Ruby obviously didn’t KNOW them. Nobody alive would know them at this point. This would be the closest she would get.

  “Perhaps we should make a date to talk about this further,” Ruby suggested. “I have some old pictures of him at my home… and it looks as if your Aunt Sadie is ready for the guest speaker.”

  Cordie looked to the parlor. Guests filed into the room as the head of the historical society set up his display.

  “That would be great,” Cordie agreed.

  “Your aunt has my number. Just give me a ring and we’ll set up a time. I believe I may even have one of his journals in the basement. I will get it all together for you. Just say the word and I will tell you all about Carter Pembroke Schelling.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The Secret Room

  Cordie was enthralled by the guest speaker at the Daughters of the South event. The historian spoke about the artifacts he had brought, including many things he had gathered from secret rooms in the area.

  The thought of the secret room, a mere feet above her, made her heart race. She wondered what was in there. What sort of family secrets could be uncovered by a little investigation?

  She reached deep and exhibited her best behavior for the rest of the party. She made sure to speak to a few more ladies and thank them for coming. Before she accompanied Aunt Sadie onto the porch to bid farewell to their guests, she found Ruby and assured her she would be calling soon to set up their date.

  Aunt Sadie beamed with pride as Cordie made her way onto the porch and thanked the guests for their attendance as they parted. Cordie knew this was her chance. After a big event, Aunt Sadie always wants to take a break from the kitchen and go out to eat. She would simply decline and use the time alone in the house to snoop.

  True to form, Aunt Sadie emerged from her bedroom, normal clothing intact, and walked up to Uncle Jesse. “Dear, I sure would like a break tonight. Do you think we could go up to the Dixie Barn for dinner?”

  “Sure can.” Uncle Jesse smiled.

  Cordie hurriedly hung her dress up and walked into the hallway. “Aunt Sadie, where do you want me to put this?”

  Aunt Sadie smiled proudly. “I will put it away in my walk in closet. These hoop skirts need room to breathe.”

  “Thank you,” Cordie replied, turning slowly, hoping for more conversation.

  “You did great today, Cordie,” Aunt Sadie added.

  Cordie grinned as she turned to face her aunt. “Thank you. I had fun.”

  “Uncle Jesse and I were just talking about going to the Dixie Barn for dinner. Grab your shoes and we will head out,” Sadie said.

  “Actually, Aunt Sadie,” Cordie began. “I’m pretty exhausted.”

  Cordie smiled her most honest smile. “Is there any way I can sit this one out? I’d just like to rest.”

  Sadie looked to Jesse, who shrugged. “I don’t guess that’s a problem,” Sadie answered. “But what are you going to do for dinner?”

  “I can just make a sandwich,” Cordie suggested.

  “Oh, that’s no sort of dinner, Cordie!” Aunt Sadie said.

  Cordie lowered her head. “I wouldn’t be totally opposed to you grabbing me a burger from somewhere on your way back.”

  Sadie and Jesse both burst into laughter. Cordie was glad she had pleased them both that day. “You got it, kiddo,” Jesse laughed more as he passed her.

  “Thank you again for your help today, Cordie,” Sadie said, giving her niece a peck on the cheek as she descended the stairs.

  Cordie waited patiently as her aunt and uncle got into their car and started down the road. She was anxious to get into the secret room. She had watched them carefully as they left. Aunt Sadie had her purse. Uncle Jesse had his wallet. There was nothing they could have forgotten.

  She started up the stairs and opened the small door that led up another narrow set up stairs, accessing the door to the secret room. She crept up the stairs and pushed on the wall. The door made a heavy creaking sound as it gave way to the mysteries that lay ahead.

  “Wow,” Cordie breathed.

  Stacks of photographs and photo albums lay across the top of every flat surface. Trunks with clothes spilling out of them sat sporadically on the floor. The musty smell of the forgotten room made Cordie sneeze. She walked over to a gorgeous, ornate full-length mirror. Cherubs adorned the edges and the piece had been maintained throughout the years.

  Carefully pulling the burlap from its face, the image of herself staring back revealed a trunk close behind her. She turned and opened the dusty trunk, pulling out the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It didn’t look uncomfortable at all.

  Forsaking the reason she entered the room at all, Cordie strummed her fingers over the dark green fabric. The black laces in the front met in a bow at the neck. It was breathtaking. She couldn’t help but eye her combat boots for a moment, thinking about how they would be perfect with it. If she could find a way to tell Aunt Sadie, she had gone snooping in the secret room, perhaps she could wear this to the next Daughters of the South event.

  She pulled her sweats off and tossed them to the wooden floor. She pulled the dress on and laced it up. It was perfect. Dark and refined, comely and modest, Cordie thought while admiring the refinement of the dress. She spun around to watch herself in the mirror. Suddenly, she felt faint. She tried to steady herself, gazing into the mirror, and fell again. This time, unconscious.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bolivar Plantation at Whispering Oaks

  1864

  Cordie looked across the sweeping land surrounding the plantation, wondering what happened, and paused to look at the towering oak over her.

  “Everyone is gone,” she whispered. “I hope I didn’t ruin everything for Aunt Sadie.”

  “Lord Almighty! You alright child?” is said with a deep, distinctive Southern accent.

  Not wanting to look like an idiot for obviously passing out in the middle of an afternoon tea service, Cordie attempted to stand but finds her footing is not sure.

  “I will handle it fr
om here, Hannah.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hannah said before turning away to walk to the main house.”

  Jon Pembroke Schelling stood over Cordie, staring at her with a slightly perplexed look on his face.

  “Your clothing is much different than last I saw you,” Jon said, still confused how the woman he saw standing on the balcony at Whispering Oaks could now be lying in the grass, dressed in the splendor of a fine Southern woman.

  “How did I get here?” Cordie asked, placing her hand to her now throbbing head.

  “That was something I was hoping you could explain, Cordelia.”

  “You aren’t part of the Civil War Reenactment, are you? What Petulia said is the truth.”

  “You must have struck your head, Miss Cordelia. Brain fever is now a possibility. I must get you home.”

  “NO!” Cordie shouted, knowing if Jon took her to Whispering Oaks no one there will recognize her, and with her distinctive accent, they might arrest her as a Yankee spy. “I mean, I prefer to accompany you to Schelling House.”

  “How, if I might inquire, did you come here, Cordelia?” Jon asked before kneeling in the grass alongside her.

  “I’m not sure to be completely honest.” Cordie reached over and placed her hand on Jon’s forearm to see if he was real, to see if he was the same as he had been the night she met him at the Schelling estate on the porch.

  “I have only seen one other like you,” Jon said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “One who could see me the way you can, but he never came here.”

  “Oh,” Cordie said not really knowing what else to say.

  “He might have been a relative of yours. You resemble him. It seems ages ago, when once I watched him walk the plantation, late at night, the same as you do.”

  Daddy? Cordie thought but was afraid to say it out loud.

  “But you’re dead,” Cordie blurted out and grimaced. “I have got to stop doing that,” she whispered.

  Jon laughed, then smiled at Cordie.