“Girl! You gave me such a fright! Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine, Gran. How did you know I was here? Angus tell you?”
“No, that boy didn’t tell me anything. I just knew. I’ve been feeling the house pull at you for weeks now. I figured eventually you’d answer the call. Come on, let’s go home. That fog is as thick as pea soup out there and not likely to dissipate anytime soon.”
“What do you mean the house pulled at me? And how did you know?”
She wore a rain slicker even though it wasn’t raining, a bright green one with a blue whale border at the bottom. With a shiver, from either the fog or something else, she said quietly but firmly, “We shouldn’t speak of such things here. It isn’t safe.”
“I agree,” Ashland said. “And no, it is not safe. Not in the least. Please, Carrie Jo, Rachel. Let’s talk somewhere else. Our house is just around the corner. I’ll make us a drink.”
To my surprise, Rachel didn’t put up a fight. Instead, relief washed over her. “A drink sounds good.”
“Don’t worry about the lights, Rach. I’ll pop back in the morning and turn them off. Or someone will.”
It must have been Providence that arranged for baby AJ to spend the night with my mom. I came home and turned on all the lights and some soothing music. Ashland poured whiskey over ice for Rachel and me. The younger woman took a few sips, then we sat back and waited for Jan to spill the beans. I had to admit I was just as curious as Rachel was. This time I didn’t rush the conversation.
“A few weeks ago, Rachel, you asked me who you were. At the time I pretended not to understand the question, but I knew. I knew all along. You are a sensitive, and you come from a long line of Kowalski sensitives.” To us all she said, “The Kowalskis are an ancient family. We can trace our Polish heritage back to the first millennium. Who else can do such a thing? And for as long as I can remember, there have always been mystics in our family tree. Don’t let the name fool you, most of us were not strange pagans but Christian believers with supernatural powers. There are some people who say that ghosts are nothing more than demons, but we do not believe that. Yes, there are demons in the world and yes, they can trick you, but what I felt in that house was not a demon but ghosts. Many ghosts.” She took her granddaughter’s hands and said, “And there will be more because of you.”
“Why have you never told me about this, Gran?”
“I am telling you now, Rachel. The time is right.” To Ashland she said, “You are a seer of ghosts but beyond that, your skills are limited. Do you know why that is?”
“No, but I’m all ears.” He was on his second drink now. His cheeks were flushed pink. I cuddled up in his arms on the couch.
“You see and can sometimes hear spirits because you were cursed, but you were lucky. You broke that curse. Now it is difficult to see what you saw easily before. Isn’t that true?”
“Yes, it is true. How did you know?”
She didn’t answer but tapped the side of her nose with her finger. Then she continued, “Your gift is fading. You have done nothing wrong, and you cannot do anything about it. Soon, you will renounce that gift. You will see something so horrible that will make you never want to see another ghost again. And when you pray for that gift to be taken, it will be gone in an instant. But beware, young man. You may come to regret that decision in years to come.”
“And me?” I said, feeling brave for all of about two seconds.
“Your path is hidden from me. You have someone in your life who can tell you everything you need to know. You must ask her to tell you.”
“She has amnesia. She doesn’t remember quite a few things,” I said honestly. And I had so many questions to ask her, like who the heck was Chance Jardine?
“When she remembers, you’ll know all. Are you ready for that? You may wish you didn’t, but you can’t unring the bell. You can’t unknow the knowing.”
Rachel interrupted Jan’s flow with a question. “That girl, the ghost girl, she wants me to help her, doesn’t she? That’s who’s calling me?”
“There is more than one ghost in that house, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you met them all at some time or another. This will be your first true test, Rachel. But as I told your friend, once Pandora’s box is opened, there is nothing for it but to see the job through. Are you willing to do that?”
“I’m not sure,” Rachel confessed. “If I understood it more, maybe so.”
I cleared my throat. “I can tell you what I know. I think I know what’s happening at the house. At least one part of it.”
“Tell me, Carrie Jo. I have to know what to expect, what to do.”
Ashland poured another drink. I watched him curiously as he kissed me on the top of my head. “Babe, I’m tired, and the baby will be back home in a couple of hours. I’m going to bed. I have to get some rest.”
“Night, babe.”
“Night, ladies.” Ashland walked upstairs and left us alone.
Jan whispered to me, “Has he been propositioned by a woman recently?”
“Um, yes, actually. Right here in our home.”
“Watch out for her. She’s a witch. She’s got her eye on him. She wants him and is willing to pay whatever price necessary to have him. I don’t feel any curses on you—apparently you have some powerful protection and prayers covering you—but that doesn’t mean she’ll stop. If I were you, I’d get to church more often and burn some candles yourself, just to be sure. I burned a candle earlier this evening, a prayer candle, and for a while it kept the spirit away. Until someone blew it out.” She eyeballed Rachel, who blushed instantly.
“Libby? A witch? You have to be joking, right?” I had to ask.
“Why? Because she doesn’t have a wart on her nose or wear a black pointy hat? There are fewer things more dangerous than an unsatisfied witch. Do what I’m telling you, young lady. All will be well.”
“Jan, I’m surprised to hear all this from you. I knew nothing about any of this. I mean, I knew we were weird, but this is totally weird!”
“Ha! You haven’t heard anything yet. But that’s for another time. Let’s hear about your dreams, Carrie Jo. What have you seen?”
For the next forty-five minutes I told them everything I’d seen, from the attempted suicide of Tallulah to her actual demise. According to the records, not my dreams, she’d hanged herself in that same tree, the one that Trinket tried to talk her out of just a few days before. I told them about the tension between Aubrey and Percy, Percy’s devastation over Tallulah’s death and Bridget’s utterly evil obsession with fairies.
“What about Michael?” Rachel asked me. “Have you dreamed about him?”
“Only in a peripheral way. When I dream about Trinket, I know that she is afraid of him. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with her disappearance, but I can’t be sure. In my most recent dream, Trinket found a letter from Aubrey to Tallulah. It warned Tallulah to marry Richard Chestnut and leave Idlewood, preferably before Percy and Aubrey returned. As unhinged as Tallulah was to begin with, that might have been just enough to push her over the edge. She could very well have taken her life because of that letter. It was cruel to say the least, and of course Percy knew nothing of it. He never found out, as far as we know.” I chewed on the inside of my lip as I paced the room.
“So how do we help her? How do we help Trinket?”
“I think we have to do two things. Trinket wanted to prove that Tallulah’s death was an accident because she didn’t want her to be damned forever. Secondly, she wanted to acknowledge her sister and tell her she loved her. I think we help her by finding that letter or, if we can’t do that, by telling her what happened and encouraging her to say Tallulah’s name. Only by doing that will she free herself.”
“And the man who pursues her? Is it Percy or Michael?” Rachel asked, her tired eyes puffy from the liquor.
“Personally, I don’t think it’s either one. I think the person who most wanted Trinket dead was A
ubrey—she would never have wanted Percy to know what she’d done, and Trinket did know. He would always believe his Dot, that’s what he called Trinket, over Aubrey. Always.”
Suddenly Jan slapped her knees. “I’m tired and ready to go home. I’d like to sleep on all this and figure out a way to help. I can’t let Rachel go back to that house without the proper protections, but I know she’ll go with or without my permission.” She patted her granddaughter’s hand. “Let’s do things the right way. Let Carrie Jo dream and see what she can see. Take my advice, though, CJ. Keep your husband home. He’s in so much confusion right now that it would be hard for him to help. And he’d want to with all his heart.”
“No problem. I think I can do that.” I walked the women to the door and said goodnight to them.
As I turned off the music and the lights, I began to think about Trinket. I needed to see the letter. I needed to see that “magical place” where she’d hidden it.
Then and only then could we set her and her sister free, and maybe find her little body.
I walked up the stairs wearily, sadness overwhelming me. I didn’t want to do this. I knew that tonight, after I closed my eyes, I would witness the death of a little child with sad eyes and sweet bow lips. A life cut short by someone who hated her enough to kill her and steal that life away from her.
I didn’t bother changing clothes. Ashland was snoring, but I didn’t care. I would sleep anyway. I cuddled up to his back and enjoyed the feeling of his breath rising and falling.
Rising and falling.
Rising and falling.
And suddenly, I was falling.
Chapter Eighteen – Trinket
My knee bled terribly, but I picked myself up from the dirty path and kept walking. Bridget was here somewhere in this tangle of trees, shrubs and flowers. This narrow trail led past the sunken garden and through a wild bramble of blackberry vines that had completely swallowed an abandoned corncrib. A rabbit bounced across the path in front of me, and for a moment I considered chasing after him. But I slid my hand into my pocket and remembered why I made this trip to begin with. There were no berries on the vines, it was still too cold for that, but they’d come in soon. The cascade of white flowers covering the abandoned building signaled that. Perhaps the bunny would have better luck finding a snack then and I could come back and see him, with Old Tramp, my favorite dog.
“Bridg-et!” I called into the trees just beyond. Better to let her know that I was on the way than to just show up and put myself in a precarious position. The Queen of the Fairies had a mean streak an acre wide, and it wouldn’t do to upset her, not when I needed such a favor. I already dreaded hearing the price I would be forced to pay for asking, but the fear did not deter me. This was for Tallulah!
“Bridget, please! I need your help!” As if by magic, she stepped out from behind a tree.
“Why are you here, Trinket? I want to be alone.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but I need your help. I need some…some magic.”
Bridget folded her arms and peered down at me with her all-knowing dark eyes. She’d forgotten her flowery crown today, but there were leaves in her hair as if she had rolled in the grass. She wore a brown dress, nothing flamboyant or colorful like what she normally wore. She looked serious today. Not flighty at all. Just when I needed her to be. Just when I believed in her.
“You suddenly believe in magic?” She leaned against the tree, her hands behind her back now. I stole a peek at them. I saw no sharp knives, needles or hatpins. I swallowed and carried on.
“I need to hide something. I want you to help me, with your magic. It’s for Tallulah.”
“Our Golden Sister asked you to hide something?” She smirked at me, but at least she didn’t remind me that Tallulah was dead.
“No, she didn’t, but it could set her free, Bridget.”
“What is it, and who are you hiding it from?” This entire conversation seemed strange. Bridget’s serious demeanor disturbed me, but I couldn’t stop now. I sighed and took a few steps toward her. I dug in my pocket and pulled out the letter. Bridget accepted it with a suspicious glance. I watched with trepidation as she read it. Who was to say she wouldn’t destroy it? After a minute she folded it and slid down the tree, staring at me. “So you admit I have all the power? I have the power to set Tallulah free? You admit that and are willing to pay the price?” I nodded glumly and stared at my dirty black shoes. “I want to hear you say it, Trinket. No more running from me when I need your blood. You will give it to me when it is required, and you will always remember that I have all the power. You won’t refuse me again?”
My rebellious soul did not want to agree with her. I didn’t want to tell her what she wanted to hear. She was a cruel, hateful sister, but she was the only one I had left. Tallulah was gone from me. “You have all the power,” I said as a fat tear landed on the top of my dusty shoe.
“And…”
“I won’t refuse you. You can set Tallulah free.” If only Percy had been at the house, but he was gone. He’d fled Idlewood after his argument with Aubrey. I had no doubt that even now my sister-in-law was tearing up the house looking for the evidence of her cruel betrayal.
Bridget took my hand, and I followed her, nearly tripping over my own feet. We walked through the woods, and a cold trickle of sweat ran down my back. To my surprise, she had made a house out of branches and stones. It was small, but there was a fire burning outside of the structure, and on the ground I noticed rabbit fur. I wondered what evil things she’d done here. Beyond the house was a small clearing, and I noticed tiny arrangements of furniture, tiny enough for Bridget’s fairies.
“Are there fairies here?”
“Of course there are. Can’t you see them?” she said snippily as she dug through a wicker basket of dried flowers.
“I’m trying,” I said, squinting and staring as hard as I could. I thought I saw movement, but it was only a curious dragonfly. “I think I see something.”
“You lie. They aren’t here right now. They always hide when interlopers come near.”
“I’m no interloper!” I shouted at her angrily. I wasn’t sure what an interloper was, but I didn’t like the sound of it.
“You dare argue with me after your pledge?”
“No, Bridget. I’m sorry.” She handed me back the note. “Wait, aren’t you going to help me?”
“Yes, I am. But you know the price.” Then I noticed the small blade in her hand. She licked her lips as she stared at my fingers.
“Oh, wait.” I pulled up my skirt and showed her the wound on my knee. The blood had flowed down into my sock. “Can’t you use this? It’s fresh.”
With a delighted smile she slipped her knife in her pocket and reached for a small glass bottle. I recognized it as one of mother’s old medicine bottles; she’d complained for weeks that someone had stolen it. She had been correct. There was already a dark liquid in the bottle, but Bridget squeezed my wound and forced a few drops of blood into the bottle as I yelped. Popping the cork in the bottle, she shook the liquid together and handed it to me.
“What do I do with this?” My nose crinkled as I frowned at the nasty-looking concoction.
“You drink it, idiot. Drink it and then hide the note wherever you like. The potion will give you the magical ability you need to cast the protection spell.”
“Oh.” I stared at the bottle again. “What do I say?”
She tapped the cleft in her chin and smiled. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t make my skin crawl. Well, it wouldn’t, would it? I was evil now too. I was making a pact with the Queen of the Fairies. “Let us find a good one.” She went inside her makeshift hut and came back with one of her books. It had been a gift from our uncle. He’d encouraged her to read the books and often took her searching for fairies in the woods. I never liked our Uncle Preston. He never wanted to take me fairy hunting.
She flipped through the brittle yellow pages. She continued to search until she found the charm s
he wanted. “Here it is.” She tapped on it. I tried to read it, but the writing was complicated and I could read only a few letters. We had not had a governess in over a year. Tallulah was to teach me, but she often forgot and I never reminded her.
“What does it say, sister?”
“You are stupid, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you can’t read.”
“I can so read. I read this letter, didn’t I? But those letters are hard to read.”
“That’s because it is calligraphy, special writing for magic people. I will read it for you, but you must memorize it. Think about a hiding place. Tell no one where you will hide it. Hide the letter, drink the potion—it will give you power—and say the spell. The spell is good only once, though, and you must think of the item while you say it. Once you remove the letter from the hiding place, it won’t be protected anymore.”
“That’s okay. I just want to hide it until Percy comes home,” I said honestly, happy that she didn’t call me stupid again.
“Okay, remember this spell. You must say it correctly. Africanus objecticus, ublius shamara!”
“What?” I said stupidly. She shook her brown head and tapped the spell with her dirty finger. It bothered me that her nails were dirty, as if she’d been digging in the earth. Mother would never approve.
“Say it with me, Trinket. Africanus objecticus, ublius shamara!” After about five times, I got it right. When she was satisfied, Bridget waved me away. “Now go. Cast your spell. Your letter will be safe, no matter where you hide it.”
“And you’re sure this will work?” She stood now, and her mood darkened quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m going. Thank you, Bridget. Sister. Queen of the Fairies!” I bowed a little to her. If this really worked, then she would truly be a magical creature and worthy of a good bow. She smiled now, showing her lovely dimples. Then she turned back to her business, and I ran home.
When I made it back to Idlewood, the place was in a stir. Aubrey was yelling at my mother; Michael, the servants and I were steering clear of the argument. I didn’t understand the reason for their most recent disagreement, and I didn’t want to know. Michael closed the door to the study. He stayed there quite often now, poring over Father’s accounting books with Mr. Quigley, the attorney. Father’s death had taken a toll on my brother. Any small amount of kindness within him died with our father. All he ever wanted was Father’s approval. Now he would never receive it. Since Percy largely abandoned us so frequently, all the decision-making fell on Michael’s shoulders. For many weeks Mother and Aubrey were forbidden to purchase dresses until Michael squared things away. Now that he had gotten a handle on the accounting, everyone was given an allowance. This irked Mother greatly, but what could she do about it? Father had left everything to his sons. Nothing for her at all, beyond Michael’s generosity. Her Golden Son had turned his back on her, she bemoaned loudly. Now Michael alone received all her undying love and affection.
The Ghosts of Idlewood Page 13