by HR Mason
Aubrey placed it on her right hand as she met her father’s gaze.
“I think my mother would be happy to know we finally found each other.”
“I know she would be.”
Anson rose to leave, and Aubrey led him to the front door. Not sure what to do, she gave him an awkward hug. The gesture was new and uncomfortable, but she hoped it conveyed her desire to start fresh.
Once he was gone, she went upstairs to her room. Hank wouldn’t be back until much later, but she was exhausted from all the unfamiliar emotions.
She sat on her bed and let out a sigh. Glancing at the bedside table, she noticed a journal. Like all the objects she found there, it had appeared out of nowhere.
She grabbed the book and opened it, immediately recognizing the sloppy, slanted handwriting to be her mother’s. It was the same penmanship she’d seen on the suicide note.
Aubrey flipped through the pages, and as she did, a photograph fell out. It was a picture of Anna, who looked exactly like Aubrey, and a younger version of her father, Anson.
The camera had caught the young couple in the middle of a private moment. Anson was looking down at Anna, and she was facing the opposite direction. Pure love and adoration were written all over Anson’s face, while Anna’s conveyed confusion and sadness. The faraway look in her mother’s eyes made Aubrey wish she could read Anna’s mind.
Aubrey flipped through the pages of the journal and skimmed over one of the last entries in the book. It was dated 1994, the year she was born.
Aubrey is such a sweet baby. I don’t know why my parents can’t see that. They live to torment me. Their hatred knows no bounds. What kinds of monsters lock their daughter and granddaughter in a room in order to get their way? They want me to give Aubrey up, but I could never do that. She’s the only thing that matters to me besides Anson, and my parents have made sure we can never be together. I have to get away from here.
Aubrey felt her mother’s pain tugging at her through the pages, sensed the desperation and fear Anna had endured.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Aubrey slipped the photo back inside the journal, opened the drawer of the bedside table, and gently tucked the treasure next to the rest of her mementos.
31
The next day, Aubrey pulled the BMW into the parking lot of the Rossdale Community Library. Hank placed his coffee mug in the cup holder and dropped his cell phone into his pocket. He’d been checking emails while Aubrey drove them into town, but he’d decided the task at hand deserved his full attention.
“Are you ready for this, babe?” Hank knew she was nervous, and he wanted to assure her that he was there for her, no matter what they might find.
“Yes. I’ve been putting it off, but I know if I want to find answers, I have to follow the paper trail.”
“True, but I also know you’re scared.”
“I’m terrified. It’s all becoming way too real.”
“I know. I’m right here with you.”
“Clara Millburn said on the phone yesterday that she has an entire section dedicated to Desolate Ridge and the Ross family.”
“Your family is pretty notorious in this town,” Hank chuckled.
“It seemed strange at first that there would be an entire section dedicated to the Rosses, but I guess since the town was founded by and named after my family, it makes sense for there to be a ton of records.”
“True. I told you I barely scratched the surface when I was here before. It’ll take months to go through them all.”
“Well, I don’t have months. I need to hit the jackpot a little sooner than that. I just have to figure out which direction to go with my snooping.”
“Do you know what you’re looking for?” he asked.
“I have no idea. I hope I’ll know it when I see it.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Well, that makes one of us.”
Aubrey followed Hank into the library and shook Clara’s hand as he introduced them.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Ms. Ross. Is there something specific you’re looking for?”
“Oh, you know, just the usual. I’m hoping to find the information I need to break a family curse.” Aubrey smirked.
“A family curse? I see….”
The librarian paused for a moment, as if contemplating Aubrey’s strange words, then led them into the research room and gestured toward a large row of bookshelves.
“These are all files pertaining to Desolate Ridge and your family, Ms. Ross. I’ll leave you alone to browse. Please feel free to find me if you have any questions,” the older woman said with a nod and a smile.
“Thank you. I appreciate your help,” Aubrey replied.
Hank and Aubrey looked at the mountain of information and felt completely overwhelmed. They had no idea where to begin.
“Well, I did say I wanted information,” Aubrey laughed.
“Ask and ye shall receive.” Hank smirked.
They decided the best option was to divide and conquer. Hank started on old newspaper articles, and Aubrey opted for birth and death records.
Thirty minutes later, Clara stuck her head into the room. “Do you two have any questions for me?”
“I do, actually. I’m reading obituaries and death records, but I realize I have no idea where my family is buried. Do you know?” Aubrey inquired.
“Of course I know. It’s my job to know.” Clara grinned. “The Ross family members have always been buried in their private cemetery.”
“Where would that be?”
“It’s on Desolate Ridge property, located somewhere behind the house, my dear. Haven’t you seen it?”
“No, I haven’t. But I’m certainly going to go looking for it.”
After two hours of perusing records, Aubrey felt like her head was going to explode. She couldn’t believe what she’d found. The troubling information once again led her to even more questions.
“I’ve been scouring these birth and death records, Hank, and things just don’t add up.”
“What things?”
“Well, the causes of death for all these women are more than a little suspicious. For example, Annabelle Ross supposedly fell asleep and drowned in the bathtub, and Catherine Ross apparently died in an accidental fire in the sitting room caused by an errant candle. She tossed her young son through the window to save his life. Emilia Ross tripped and fell over the railing of the second-floor balcony, and the list goes on and on.”
“I agree that their deaths sound a bit suspect. But just to play devil’s advocate, it could all be true. I mean, people could actually die that way.”
“I know, Hank, but….”
“But what? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Aubrey wrestled with the idea of revealing her vivid experiences with the women’s deaths. Although she couldn’t explain it, she knew she had felt them all die. She’d gone through each horrific moment in her own skin while seeing it through their eyes. Aubrey understood that each and every one of these women had been murdered.
“There’s something I need to tell you, but I don’t want to do it here. I’ll make copies of all these records, and then we’re going to go home, and I’ll tell you a story you’re probably not going to believe.”
“I’ve believed all your stories so far.”
“Yes, I suppose you have.”
Aubrey made copies of all the pertinent information, thanked Clara for her time, and then she and Hank drove out of town toward home. The butterflies in her stomach reminded Aubrey of what she had to do. She needed to tell Hank about what she’d experienced, but she was afraid he wouldn’t believe her spectacular tale. It was pretty far-fetched, after all, and there had to be a limitation to what a man was willing to accept with no proof to back it up.
She pulled the car into the garage, and they went inside. She rehearsed in her mind how to begin the conversation that would undoubtedly convince Hank she was certifiably insane.
“You didn’
t say a word all the way home. What’s on your mind, Aubrey? You know you can tell me anything.”
“I really want to believe that, Hank. But I’m not sure I can tell you this.”
She busied herself in the kitchen making coffee while Hank started a fire. In usual Hank fashion, he didn’t push her to talk. In fact, he didn’t say anything. He simply sat at the breakfast nook reading the paper while she worked up the nerve to speak.
When the coffee had finished brewing, she poured them both a mug, carried it to the table, and sat down.
“Thanks, babe,” Hank said with a smile.
“You know I’m stalling, don’t you?”
“Of course you are. Take your time.” He grinned.
“What I’m about to tell you is out there, and I mean it’s so far out of the realm of possibility that I don’t even want to say it out loud.”
“You’ve told me some pretty unbelievable things so far.”
“I guess I have.”
“Remember when you said a ghost tried to drown you in the bathtub?”
“That’s right. You already know that part, don’t you?”
Aubrey had forgotten she’d told Hank the truth that night. She’d been so afraid, and it had all been such a blur.
“I promise to listen with an open mind.”
“Well, just remember you asked for it.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“What would you say if I told you the incident in the bathtub wasn’t the only death I’ve experienced since coming to Desolate Ridge?”
“You mean that’s happened to you before?”
“Well, not that exact thing, but….”
He wrapped her hand in his. “Don’t be afraid of how it’s going to sound. Just say it, Aubrey. You know you can trust me.”
“Fine. The women I was talking about in the library? My ancestors? Well, I know their deaths weren’t accidents because I’ve seen each one happen, Hank. I experienced the moment they were murdered, through their eyes, but in my own skin.”
“Like when you were almost drowned? You were experiencing something that happened to someone else?”
“Exactly. See, I finally understand what happened that night. The records show Annabelle Ross fell asleep and drowned in the bathtub, but I know that’s not true. She didn’t fall asleep. Annabelle was pushed under the water and held there until she died. I know it, because it happened to me, except I didn’t die. I saw it all through her eyes.”
“Okay….”
“And not long after I arrived at the house, I was peeking over the railing on the second floor, and I distinctly felt two hands trying to push me over the edge. Emilia Ross died from a supposed accidental fall from the second-story balcony.”
“Anything else?” Hank asked, eyes wide.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. The very first death I experienced was Marie’s. I felt her being strangled when I was on the airplane coming to Rossdale. She was rocking her baby in the attic, and she was killed. I saw who did it.”
“You’ve said Marie Ross has appeared to you several times.”
“She has. She wants me to figure this out, Hank.”
“I see.”
“And remember the night I called you because the sitting room was on fire? Well, the records say Catherine Ross died in a fire in the sitting room after she tossed her young son through the window to save his life.”
Hank shook his head slightly. “I hear you, babe, but that’s….”
“Crazy. I know, Hank. But it’s true.”
“Have you experienced other strange things?”
“You mean besides the fact that I have regular conversations with a two-hundred-year-old ghost?”
“Yeah, besides that.” He smirked.
“One day I came into the kitchen and found a muddy shovel propped against the kitchen sink. I was the only one in the house, and I didn’t put it there.”
“A muddy shovel?”
“Yes. It was really old and caked with fresh mud, like someone had been digging giant holes or something.”
“That’s bizarre.”
“Also, strange objects keep showing up on my bedside table at weird times. Each one seems to appear when I have a question about something. It’s like the house is trying to answer me.”
“I told you this house was haunted.”
“Then there was the day I felt absolutely compelled to go into the rose garden. When I got there, I was completely overwhelmed by a wave of sadness and grief that I still don’t understand. I found six headstones that belonged to babies who died before birth.” She looked down, the memory overtaking her for a moment.
“That’s really sad and creepy.”
“No kidding. I don’t know what it all means. I have no idea where all of these things fit into the picture, but somehow they all do. It’s like the house itself and the ghosts who haunt it are trying to tell me the truth of what happened to the Ross women.”
“It certainly seems that way.”
“You’re saying you believe me, then?”
Hank smiled. “I’ll always believe you.”
“I guess the problem is I have a hard time believing it myself.”
“It’s not an easy pill to swallow. But maybe that’s why you’re here. Maybe the house has been waiting all this time for you to unlock the mystery.”
“Marie’s ghost keeps saying it all ends with me. You have something to do with it too, but I don’t know what that is yet.”
“Maybe you’re the one who can finally break your family’s curse.”
“But what if I don’t believe in curses, Hank? Isn’t it a requirement of a curse breaker to believe there’s a curse to begin with?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve never broken a curse.”
“I doubt many people have. I keep telling myself that none of this can be real, but the evidence keeps piling up in my mind.”
“I feel like we’re closing in on the answers. We just have to keep digging.”
Hank leaned across the table and kissed Aubrey softly. She caressed his face with her fingertips and wondered for about the thousandth time how she’d gotten so lucky. She knew she couldn’t do any of this without him. His belief in her bizarre stories gave her the strength to keep pushing forward to find answers.
Aubrey took a large sip of her coffee as Hank’s phone rang. He spoke quickly, hung up, and rose from his chair.
“I have to go to work.”
“All right. I’ll see you later on?”
“Of course you will. I’ve barely spent any time at my house the past few months. Not that I’m complaining.”
“I’m not complaining either. It’s nice having you here.”
Aubrey kissed him goodbye and walked him to his car. As she watched him pull out of the driveway, she made a spur-of-the-moment decision. She went inside, grabbed her coat, and put on her boots. Clara Millburn said the family’s burial plot was located somewhere on the grounds of Desolate Ridge, and Aubrey knew the time had come to find it.
It was raining, but she didn’t care. She pulled her hood over her head and tromped across the backyard, climbing a small grassy knoll and walking toward the rose garden. She felt the same intense sadness as she glanced at the trailing flowers, but she continued past it.
“I know it has to be around here somewhere,” she said quietly to herself.
She walked a bit farther, and suddenly it came into view. Gasping, she spotted a black wrought iron fence surrounding a grouping of headstones. That had to be the Ross family’s burial plot. She shivered as a thick fog rose from the ground below, obscuring the names on the stones. She needed to go inside the fence to get a closer look, but that was the last thing she wanted to do.
Her hand trembled as she flipped the latch securing the old iron gate. It creaked loudly, moaning like a lamenting widow as she opened it and stepped inside. She jumped as a crow cawed loudly. Glancing above her, she saw seven black birds circling over her head.
As she watched, six of the birds continued to fly in a ring, while one angled its body to land, came to a stop, and perched on the fence. The single crow sat there, staring at her curiously. Aubrey trembled under the gloomy bird’s close scrutiny. From somewhere in the recesses of her memory, the words to a creepy old nursery rhyme resurfaced:
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.
* * *
Aubrey shivered again. It wasn’t yet dusk, but the dreary rain had darkened the sky, coloring the whole world in gray. The fog rested on the ground, giving the graveyard an otherworldly ambience.
Not wanting to spend an unnecessary amount of time in the cemetery, Aubrey took a quick stroll through the grounds, reading aloud the names and dates on the graves. She connected each one to the death records she’d discovered only a few hours before.
She also took note of the ones who weren’t there—the women who had supposedly disappeared, vanishing into thin air. She didn’t believe for a second that they had run away. There was more to their stories. Aubrey felt it in her bones.
She ran her trembling fingertips across each name, etched so permanently into the headstones. These women, her family members, had all died long before they should have. They had been robbed, taken from the world in the prime of their lives.
They hadn’t had the opportunity to see their children grow. They hadn’t understood the mental illness that clearly ran rampant through the veins of those children. They might have been able to help them if they had lived longer. They might have been able to alter the circumstances of the past. The women didn’t live long enough to break the curse that had strategically strangled the life out of the entire Ross family.
But Aubrey was different. She was a fighter. Every difficult thing in her life had prepared her for this moment. She had survived unimaginable things, and she hadn’t ever quit. She was determined to get to the bottom of all the secrets.