Dead Ends

by JT Ellison

  “Mary always sends for clothes for me, and she gets my favorites in a bigger size, too, so I can have them later.” Lilith was holding Theresa’s hand again, but Theresa looked worried.

  “You two did ask Mrs. Trewlove?” I didn’t want this to be the start of some misunderstanding. The clothes were expensive, and certainly privately made.

  “They were in my closet,” Theresa said. “Lilith made me put them on. I didn’t want to, Mama. Lilith said I had to.”

  “Is this true, Lilith?” I believed Theresa, but we were in a precarious position.

  Lilith dropped Theresa’s hand. “That’s not the way to accept gifts, Theresa. You hurt my feelings.” Tears started in her eyes. “I suppose now you don’t want to be my friend. I guess you want to leave.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Theresa gave me a look that said she was feeling confused and helpless. “Mama?”

  Before I could respond, Molly interrupted.

  “Let’s have none of this foolishness. You look very nice, Miss Theresa. Mrs. Trewlove will be so pleased the dress fits you. Now, isn’t it time for lessons?”

  At that moment, the case clock on the wall struck eleven. Molly’s admonition obviously included us all, and I didn’t see how I could continue without appearing contentious. That Lilith was upset was distressing enough.

  Lilith proved to be an able student. If anything, despite the difference in their ages, she was well ahead of Theresa in mathematics. She also spoke French like a native—something that surprised me—though she said she had never lived in France.

  “Maybe your mother taught you?” I asked.

  Lilith shook her head, a violent no. “Not my mother. I don’t want to remember my mother.”

  That was exactly what she said, that she didn’t want to remember her mother. How strange it sounded.

  “Well, perhaps your grandmother, or one of your other tutors, then?” I wondered how many tutors had come before me.

  “Mary speaks French like me. Mary loves me.” She cocked her head to one side, and gave me a sweet smile.

  There was no getting a straight answer out of her.

  By the time lessons were over, I was relieved to see that she and Theresa had forgotten their disagreement.

  “Je vais t’apprendre à parler en français.” Lilith leaned her head against Theresa’s shoulder, and Theresa giggled.

  When Lilith said they would play outside in the garden after lunch, I remembered the madwoman. What might she do to the girls?

  “Why don’t you stay in this afternoon and make plans for your birthday, Lilith? And Theresa, please pick a special song to practice on the piano to play at the party. Do you both know what you want to wear?”

  It was the right thing to say. As they left the schoolroom for the kitchen, where Molly would give them a late lunch, they talked excitedly over one another.

  I went to the far window that overlooked the yews, and could just see the top edge of a pale red brick wall behind them. But I wasn’t high enough to see what was beneath the trees inside. Both times I’d seen the woman, she hadn’t been far from the garden.

  For those first few days, Mary Trewlove showed little interest in getting to know me. After three days of lessons, I asked her if she would like to review the academic plans I’d made, based on what I’d learned about Lilith’s skills. But she replied that she was sure whatever I came up with in the way of lessons would be fine, and only insisted that lessons continue through the summer, rather than be interrupted by a long break. It suited me because I had no money for summer travel, and it meant our daily lessons needn’t be too arduous.

  Molly, though, was friendlier. I sat in the kitchen with her often in the mornings or late afternoons. I quickly became used to the strong tea, and enjoyed her stories about the gossip in town. I thought it odd that she knew so much gossip despite rarely leaving the grounds of Trewlove Hall. She sent Jerome out with a shopping list every other day, and I could only imagine his terse requests at the butcher’s and the market. Surely he was no favorite.

  The next afternoon it rained, and so I didn’t have to worry about the madwoman bothering the girls, because they stayed inside. The other days, I went outside with them, and read in the sunshine while they played and chased each other around the animal statues in the front garden. I kept an eye on the woods, but the madwoman didn’t reappear. I hoped she had finally been apprehended, but I couldn’t help but remember how thin and disheveled she’d been. When had she eaten last? What if she were already dead?

  On Friday, the night before Lilith’s eighth birthday, Mary Trewlove didn’t come downstairs for dinner.

  “She’s poorly,” Molly said, helping Lilith put mashed potatoes on her plate. Every night we had some variation of potatoes, and beef, chicken, or lamb, with a meringue or Floating Island for dessert. There were never vegetables, or even fruit with dinner. I had never seen Lilith eat anything green, nor had Theresa and I had any fruit outside of breakfast. It was a strange diet, and I didn’t know how long I could bear it.

  “Shouldn’t we send for a doctor?” I asked. Across the table, Theresa looked weary, as though she might fall asleep in her chair. Were her eyes deeply shadowed, or was it a trick of the unreliable candlelight? Beside her, Lilith looked fresh and rested.

  “Oh, Mrs. Trewlove is happy to send for a doctor for Lilith, or Jerome, or me, but she doesn’t like them for herself. Says they’re know-it-all busybodies, and I can’t say I blame her.”

  Nevertheless, after supper I knocked on the old woman’s door. I’m sure I heard her tell me to come in, but she looked surprised to see me and struggled to sit up once I was inside.

  “Molly says you’re not well. Can I bring you something? Tea, perhaps?”

  Mary Trewlove wore an old-fashioned lace bedcap over her cropped white hair, making her face and nose look even thinner and narrower. The room smelled of minty ointment and lavender.

  “I want to have energy for the party tomorrow. I fear it will be the last birthday of Lilith’s I’ll see.”

  She picked at the blanket with one bony hand, not looking at me directly, but at the wall opposite the bed, where there was an enormous mirror hung with a mesh drape. I wondered if I would ever be so appalled at my own aging that I would cover my mirrors. I was twenty-seven years old then, and mirrors are usually kind to the young.

  “Molly said you prefer not to have a doctor. But maybe he could help you.” I wanted to add with the pain. I wasn’t so naïve as to think a doctor could much prolong her life.

  “I have… medication for the pain.” She waved a weak hand toward the tall brown bottle on her bedside table. “We have more if we need it.”

  I guessed that the bottle must contain a morphine solution.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Mrs. Ross. I know I’m dying.”

  It was a stark admission, and my chagrin must have registered on my face. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Of course you’re wondering what to do when I die. You’re worried that you’ll have to leave and find another job. Another place to live.” I tried to demur, but she raised a finger to shush me as though I were a child. “I want to reassure you that you and Theresa will always have a home here. I’ve already spoken to Molly. I learned all I needed to know about you through your letters and references. You will be an excellent guardian for Lilith, and I know she’ll be eternally grateful.”

  I was stunned. I hadn’t thought of staying at Trewlove Hall forever, and I wasn’t sure I could develop enough affection for Lilith to be her guardian. And as disloyal as it felt to dear Allan, I’d harbored hopes that I would eventually marry another man, someone who would be a father to Theresa, and a companion to me.

  “You don’t really know me, Mrs. Trewlove. Surely Lilith has other family? People who will want to take care of her themselves?”

  And what about that horrible feeling I had when we first saw the house? No, I can’t ever forget that.

  Mary Trewlove shook her head. �
�You’d be giving me a great gift if you and Theresa decide to stay. I’m so weary, and I want to make sure Lilith will be taken care of.”

  I wanted to say no, but the offer implied security, and might suit us until Theresa was married, or went to work on her own. She might even go to college. The pay here was good, and I really could save. I was torn.

  “Please come here, my dear. My eyes are bad, you know. Sometimes when I wake I can’t tell the difference between morning and evening.”

  When I reached her bedside, she held out her trembling hands to me. They were ice cold to the point of pain, and she gripped mine with more strength than I thought she could have.

  As I watched, her eyes miraculously cleared of their cataracts and yellow jaundice, and they were the bright blue eyes of a very eager young woman. Moist and pleading, they seemed to hold every emotion: from extreme joy to desperation to hope to resignation.

  “Promise me,” she whispered. “Promise me you’ll stay. You’ll take care of them. Don’t worry, you’ll know what to do.”

  Them? I didn’t need to be reminded to take care of my own daughter. Did she mean Molly and Jerome, as well? “Of course,” I said. “I promise.” It was the only answer one could give to a dying woman.

  A surge of heat passed through our joined hands, as though together we held burning coals. I think I cried out, but my memory isn’t clear. After what seemed a lifetime, she relaxed her grip. She blinked, and the jaundice and cataracts returned to her eyes. Closing them, she collapsed against the bank of pillows and dropped into a deep sleep.

  The night was cool, but not cold, and I put an extra blanket on the bed before opening the window. I hoped that the fresh air would cleanse my mind of grim thoughts of Mary Trewlove’s impending death. What had happened between us in her room? Everything was moving too fast. We’d barely arrived, and everything was going to change again, in ways I couldn’t predict. But if we left, where could we go? I lay, wakeful, missing Allan, missing our time together as a family before he’d been sent to war in France. We’d dreamed of going there together someday, but now he was dead, and all I had left was Theresa. Living here, in this strange place, there would be very little chance to make another marriage, little chance to find a man I could love even half as much as Allan. We wouldn’t starve here, but we wouldn’t really live, either.

  Finally, the cool evening air and the sound of the peepers in the woods worked their magic. I slept several hours, until there was a muted, frantic knock on my door.

  “Mama. Mama. Let me in!” Theresa’s voice was barely audible.

  I hurried from my bed to let her in, reflexively locking the door as soon as she was inside. She threw her small arms around my waist, and hid her face in my nightgown, breathing hard. I stroked her head.

  “Shhhhhh. Shhhhhh, darling. What’s wrong?”

  “I want to leave here. I want to go home!” She sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

  I held her close for a moment and, with a little difficulty, picked her up and carried her to the bed. We lay there for a long while as she cried. How could I reassure her? There was no home for us to go to.

  “What is it, love? Is it the house? I know everything feels different here.”

  Theresa shook her head.

  “Is it Lilith? Did you have a fight?”

  “I don’t like it here, Mama. Why can’t we go? We could go into town and take the train home again. It’s not right here. Nothing’s right. Molly’s not right, and Lilith…” She didn’t finish.

  “I’m sorry, darling. We have to stay here for now.” I couldn’t make her any promises. I couldn’t give her what she wanted. If anything, I felt like I was lying to her because I knew we wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long, long time.

  At last her tears stopped.

  “I wish I could make it different,” I said.

  Dissatisfied, she moved away, and turned her back to me. The nightgown she wore was unfamiliar, and I realized it must have come from Lilith. More often than not, she and Lilith wore matching outfits, dressing like twins. After a few minutes, Theresa’s breathing slowed, and I knew she was falling asleep.

  “Sleep well, darling.” I kissed her soft cheek.

  “Molly and Lilith never sleep,” she murmured. “Lilith only wants to play.”

  What could she have meant? I lay back on my own pillows, wondering. But I didn’t dare wake her to ask. Finally, I felt the bonds of sleep pull me under as well.

  Sometime near dawn, I dreamed of an animal running through the nearby woods, sporadic moonbeams illuminating its feathered yellow back like flashing lights. The scene was out of focus, but I could hear something roaring down from the sky, crashing through the upper branches of several trees, and I knew the yellow animal was in danger. It turned its shaggy, oversized head toward the oncoming sound and screamed in terror. In the dream, I looked away, but there was only darkness. Understanding I was in a dream, I knew I must wake to get away from the grisly tragedy. I opened my eyes to a pearly dawn, but the screaming continued outside the window, and its last anguished notes were terrifying. Worse was the brief silence that followed, a silence that was momentarily filled with faint notes of childish laughter. My heart was pounding, and I wanted to get up to look out the window. Had I been awake or asleep? The laughter stopped as suddenly as it started.

  I lay in bed, Theresa breathing softly beside me. There would be no more sleep for me—at least I can’t remember that I slept. When a clock in the hall struck five, I suspected I would not sleep for many nights to come.

  At last I rose from the bed, careful not to wake Theresa. As I completed my toilette and pinned up my hair, something oddly bright in the dull mirror caught my eye. I leaned closer. Was that a streak of gray in my hair? It didn’t seem possible.

  In the morning, as Molly put chocolate icing on the chocolate cake she’d made the day before, I asked her if she’d heard the screaming in the night.

  “Bless you, no I didn’t,” she said. “That must have been a fright. Those coyotes sound very like babies screaming. Maybe you didn’t have coyotes in the city.”

  “I can tell the difference between a human and a coyote,” I said. “It was definitely human. What if it was that woman? She might be hurt.” Something made me reticent to mention the laughter. “Maybe I should go into the woods and look. There’s a path, yes?”

  Molly shook her head. “I wouldn’t do it. But if it will ease your mind, you should go. I’m certain it was coyotes. Either way you might wait until after the party.”

  The birthday party started badly, and ended quickly.

  Oh, there were so many plans. Lilith and Theresa had made up a list of activities to take place after a lunch, which was to feature a special Saturday turtle soup, and a chocolate cake with strawberry ice cream that the girls helped Molly churn after breakfast. When they came down for lunch, they wore matching party dresses: white silk frocks that hung to just below their knees, with sky-blue satin sashes and bows of the same blue in their hair. I held out the white rose garland I’d made for Lilith, and seeing it, she snatched out her bow, and begged me to secure the flowers in her hair. When I was finished, she hugged me, looking up with adoring eyes.

  “I do love you, my Miss Susannah! You’ll be my friend forever and ever, won’t you?”

  I hugged her and laughed, but it felt forced and insincere. Theresa stared at Lilith from behind. The shadows beneath her eyes were deeper now. She’d slept hard and long that morning, as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. But it hadn’t refreshed her. If anything, she looked worse.

  I never learned what happened between the two girls. If only I had pressed Theresa the night before. But I’d felt too guilty, knowing we would be staying on. I hadn’t really wanted to know the truth, because I might have to choose between my daughter’s happiness and our security. Of course, that was exactly what I’d done.

  If only I’d been braver. If only I’d been the mother she deserved.

  Lilith turned around, ge
ntly touching her garland. “Look, Theresa! I’m like a flower fairy in a book.”

  Before that day, Theresa would have brightened or even agreed. Now, she scowled, and walked stiffly to her place at the table. Lilith watched her, then turned back to me.

  “We made place cards, so you have to find yours at the table, Miss Susannah. I mixed up everyone’s seats!” She looked at Theresa. “You are in the wrong place. You have to move.”

  Theresa picked up the place card in front of her, and traded it with the card at the next place. She gave Lilith a smile that I could only describe as cold.

  “You’re in Mary’s chair, Theresa Ross. You have to move.”

  “Your grandmother should get to sit at the head of the table, like she always does. Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you get to tell everyone what to do, Lilith.” Theresa crossed her arms in front of her.

  Now it was Lilith’s turn to scowl, but she was looking at me.

  “Make her move, Miss Susannah. It is my birthday, and she’s being horrible. She’s been horrible to me all day.” Her pale skin flushed with a shade that was more lilac than pink.

  I sighed, wishing I were anywhere but in this dining room, in this house.

  “Theresa, if you can’t be nice, then please go upstairs until I tell you to come down.”

  “I won’t!” She pointed at Lilith. “I hate her, and I hate this awful house. I want to go home!”

  There was a heavy silence that seemed to last for a long time.

  My head—indeed, I think, the entire room—began to fill with a strange, pounding pressure. I couldn’t move, and could barely breathe. Lilith was staring at Theresa, and Theresa stared back, defiant. But her defiance quickly fell away. Slowly lifting her hands in front of her face, she began to scream. The room’s faint sunlight changed to the cool blue light of a full moon, and Theresa’s hands slowly began to turn a mottled gray. First her fingertips, and then her palms, down to her wrists. Tears trickled down her cheeks. I still couldn’t move or speak, but my heart screamed for her.