Keepers Of The Gate

by E. Denise Billups

  “That’s so underhanded! With Grams and Papa gone, he knew he could infiltrate Twilight, a Trojan horse ready to cause mayhem. I’ll kick his narrow bottom into the storm right now!” Twyla exclaims, stomping toward the exit.

  Cristal grabs her arm as she steams toward the door. “No, wait, do nothing. He hasn’t voiced his intentions yet. Just wait and see, be hospitable, and as soon as I finish my workout, I’ll speak with Sky and Charlie.”

  Twyla grunts with a scowl. “All right, but if he says one thing wrong, I’ll throw him and his belongings into that angry storm. No one’s taking Twilight!”

  That high-spirited girl Cristal remembers, running around the inn butting into grownups’ conversations has grown just as gutsy as her Grams. “Wanna work off steam in the gym?”

  “Ha! I might break the equipment,” she declares with a peevish glance and smile at Cristal. “Ooh! That makes me so angry. The audacity of that man!” she says, blowing air through her lips. “I’m sorry, but that’s just devious,” she adds with a deep scowl.

  “I’m just as angry. But we have to wait until he makes an offer.”

  Twyla breathes deep, releasing tension, and taps her fingers on her opposite knuckle. The scowl fades as she stares at Cristal with narrowing eyes.

  “Do you want to ask me a question, Twyla?”

  “Um, well, maybe I shouldn’t,” she says, biting her lip.

  “No, please ask.”

  “It’s nothing,” she says, biting her lip and narrowing her eyes again. “Well, I’ve been curious and wanted to ask for years.”

  “Years? That’s a long time. What’s taken you so long?”

  “I didn’t want to be presumptuous and ask outright. It’s something Grams said years ago.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That you and Dante are special people and that one day I’d understand. What did she mean?”

  “Oh,” Cristal mutters, clearing her throat. “I seldom speak of this.” Cristal pauses briefly and sighs. This is not what she’d expected or wants to discuss. Only Dante, Tessa, and Ian were aware of her psychic abilities, although she despises that word, preferring hunches, or inklings. Her random visions are too infrequent to warrant her the title of a mystic. She has always been reluctant to discuss this with anyone except Ian and Tessa. Being their granddaughter, Twyla won’t be as judgmental as others. “Tessa meant my ability to see visions, divinations,” she explains, imitating a magic wand with a twirl of her index finger. Tessa’s constant reproof sounds in her mind. “Stop being self-effacing.” Her comedic response is not humility, but a knee-jerk reaction caused by uneasiness.

  Twyla smiles and studies Cristal’s droll expression, seeing her in a different light. “That’s incredible!” She exclaims with wonder. “But why keep it a secret?”

  “Ah, well, because I prefer my clients not get wind of it. Can you imagine a psychic lawyer? I’d scare my poor clients away,” she says with a chuckle.

  With her thumb and index finger, Twyla mimes a key, locking her mouth shut. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she says, narrowing her eyes with another question. “Earlier, you seemed dazed when I waved from the window. I thought maybe you hadn’t seen me.”

  Cristal recalls the girl at the window, but it hadn’t been Twyla. Uncertain, she didn’t wave back. “My eyes were hazy from lack of sleep. I couldn’t see you well.”

  “Oh, I thought you’d seen something,” Twyla says, recalling her odd glare in the Carriage House when she summoned Dante.

  Cristal frowns. “I did.”

  Eager to know what, Twyla stares at her in silence.

  “I believed the storm had distorted the windowpane because I saw a strange girl, then you.”

  Twyla suspects the girl was with her in sleep and, when she woke, at the window. “I used to sleepwalk as a child, but I haven’t in years until today. This morning I woke at the window and sensed something, or someone, with me. The girl…” she says with a deep stare, “…I saw her, too, and assume she’s why Mom fell earlier. Did Grams ever mention strange occurrences inside the house?”

  “Did she!” Cristal says with a chuckle. “But I’d sensed Twilight’s specters before Tessa ever spoke a word. I’m sure she mentioned mysterious smells and images in the parlor?”

  “She did, many times.”

  “I’ve had hair-raising moments, here and in the dining room,” Cristal says, recalling a fright she’d experienced one night.

  “What happened?”

  “Gosh, it was years ago.” She turns her head, gazing at the mantel. “One evening, Dante and I were chatting in this room with Tessa and Ian over drinks when we heard voices coming from the hallway. I assumed guests were celebrating, until Tessa explained, ‘No, just non-paying guests’ harmless play.’ Dante and I froze in utter shock when we entered the dining room, and phantom voices echoed around the walls. Amused, Tessa and Ian simply laughed.”

  “Oh, yeah. Grams mentioned the voices, but she’d said they occur at late hours and she’d only experienced it three times. The sounds didn’t bother her, but it frightened me. And thank goodness, one has never spoken in my ears. Have you had other experiences?”

  Cristal holds her gaze with reservation. Twilight isn’t just a place Twyla visits on weekends any longer, but her permanent dwelling. She doesn’t want to frighten her with more ghost stories. “Oh, you don’t…”

  “I’m not afraid,” Twyla interjects. “Twilight’s past fascinates me. So please tell me.”

  Cristal draws a breath and sighs, lost in thought, “OK. Ten years ago, around 11 in the evening, I’d wandered to the Main House for one of Tessa’s famous drinks. She used to make the best hot toddies with bourbon, honey, lemon, black tea and some other secret ingredient. I knew she’d be awake because she seldom went to sleep before midnight. And she never minded late requests for her drinks. That’s when a low hypnotic melody sounded from the parlor. The woman’s voice drew me straight to the room.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Tessa, I thought at first, but in my listless state, I didn’t bother looking, just wandered into the parlor, plopped on the sofa, closed my eyes, and said, ‘That sounds amazing.’ The humming stopped. Reclined, with my head back, eyes closed, I pleaded to hear more but there was no response. Then something stirred the air. I opened my eyes and stared toward the mantel, shocked to discover it wasn’t Tessa. The woman’s unnatural swivel paralyzed me to the sofa. Startled, her figure shimmied with surprise to see me. The instant I jumped from my seat, she vanished. I fled straight to the Carriage House.”

  Wide-eyed, Twyla stares at the fireplace with images of the boggy wraith in her room.

  “That’s terrifying,” she exclaims. “Did the woman ever appear again?”

  “No, only once. I’ve never visited the parlor alone at night again.”

  Twyla narrows her eyes, staring into the hall. “Something strange happened in the corridor right before I spoke to Harrison. I-um, OK, this might sound strange.”

  “Your experience can’t be any weirder than my singing ghost.”

  Yes, it can, she thinks, considering the strangulation upstairs. She rubs her neck, deciding to share that story another time. “The corridor transformed. It sounds far-fetched, but a chasm swallowed the hallway. I remembered experiencing this when I was four or five. I’d forgotten about it until that moment.”

  “Transformed? Into what?”

  “A log cabin and then a longhouse.”

  Cristal sighs and lowers her head into her hand. “So it’s true. I should have recognized the truth when Tessa told me, but it was too incredible, a corridor changing into her ancestor’s home.”

  “The longhouse appeared as vivid as you.”

  Cristal nods and says, “I believe you, Twyla.”

  “Why didn’t Tessa tell Skylar or me?”

  “Tessa always had her reasons. I suspect she wanted you and Skylar to love the home and not fear it, knowing one day you’d run the business.”r />
  “Humph, you might be right. She told a lot of stories, but I guess not everything.”

  “Do you know the history of Twilight? I mean, before its construction?”

  “Most of it. Grams kept a book on Geneva’s history before and after the war in the steamer trunk in the cellar. She’d said Twilight sits at the heart of Iroquois land, where Seneca villages stood before Sullivan’s Expedition destroyed the longhouses.”

  Cristal nodded. “I’m sure you’re aware Twilight’s foundation rests on sacred stones, well not stones, but a large slab of stone that runs the length of this property,” she said. “The first settlers didn’t have the means to excavate the ruins lodged beneath the ground, so they built their farmsteads on top of it. That stone is still here, beneath Twilight. A year before Tessa passed, she divulged an extraordinary secret that’s hard to conceive. But after everything that’s happened, I’m no longer a skeptic.”

  “What did Grams tell you?”

  Cristal puts a hand over her mouth and closes her eyes for a moment, trying to find the right words. The letter Tessa left said Twyla must discover her secret on her own. Removing her hand and peering at Twyla, she tells her a half truth, “Tessa said the stones allow her to visit ancestors’ past lives.” Cristal remembers Tessa’s girlish grin when she’d explained, “I’ve slipped through time’s doorway many times.”

  “Did she mean the visions, the specters around the house?”

  Cristal’s exact question to Tessa a year ago lingered around the dock as she waited for Tessa’s rejoinder. “Yes.”

  “Tessa wasn’t delusional,” Twyla retorts assuredly. “Her mind was sound right up to her death.”

  “Yes. As rational as ever,” Cristal agrees.

  They stare unblinking at each other for a moment. Cristal, afraid she’ll spill the weighty secret she’s yearned to unload for a year, drops her gaze to the floor. I made a promise to Tessa, she thinks, strengthening her resolve. Maybe a hint or a clue to inspire Twyla’s curiosity, a push to discover Tessa’s special place. She’s eager to see this enigma unfold herself.

  “You’re such a loyal friend to honor Grams’ wish,” Twyla says, taking her hand with an affectionate squeeze. “Hmm, I wonder why she wanted you to wait an entire year?”

  “I’m not sure, but, oddly, Harrison has showed up right on cue. Maybe Tessa expected him to arrive now. She gave me the original testament bequeathing this property to your ancestors.”

  “How did she get the original will?”

  “Mercy Dox secured the testament in a trunk for years. Tessa received it from her parents when they died. Twyla, I was skeptical, but after my experiences on this property, I believe Tessa. She’d explained the corridor changed when she wore something belonging to her ancestors, the pendant, or jewelry inherited from family. Were you wearing the pendant when the corridor transformed?”

  Twyla touches the locket. “I was, but I’ve worn it a year, and nothing ever happened in the corridor. Why now?”

  “I wish I knew. There must be a reason it happened today.”

  Twyla stares into the hallway, recalling Mystik pawing at the desk… the artifacts. She’d placed the choker in her sweater pocket. “I think I know why,” she says, pulling the choker from her pocket. “This,” she explains, displaying the artifact in her palm. “The bone choker was in the office desk. In my haste to find Mystik, I forgot to put it back. I believe Mom dug it from the ground this morning. I had it when the corridor changed.”

  “I wondered what she’d dug up beneath the maple. Hmm…” Cristal murmurs, looking closer. “The choker looks like genuine native jewelry and might explain the corridor’s transformation.”

  Glaring at the choker, Twyla recalls Skylar’s frighten face before she rushed on to the porch. “How did Mom know they were near the tree?”

  “I believe something led her outdoors,” Cristal says, recalling the vague image she couldn’t discern standing near the tree. At first, the figure appeared only whirling snow until Skylar approached, then it changed form.

  “It has to be our ancestors if it was on the land,” Twyla says. And the reason for the strange morning, she thinks.

  “Tessa often told stories of the Seneca village on this land and farmstead after the war. And she mentioned Gray Wolf and Mercy Dox’s part in building this home,” Cristal says.

  “Yes, Grams called him Mingin, but I prefer the Native American meaning, Gray Wolf. Grams loved to tell the story of his capture by Seneca natives who adopted him as their own son and how he embraced their lifestyle, never returning to his world after the war.”

  “He’s the reason your ancestors regained this land,” Cristal explains, lifting the coffee mug from the table. “Did she ever mention that soldiers of Sullivan’s Expedition received parcels of Iroquoian land and settled here after the atrocious act of destroying their villages?”

  “Yes… appalling.”

  “Well, Captain William Dox was one of those soldiers and one of Geneva’s original settlers after the war. He and his wife Mercy built a farmstead with a single-room log cabin, right here. Gray Wolf was his long-lost nephew.”

  “I grew up hearing Mingin’s story constantly. It sounded mythic, a fable, because of the dramatic way Grams told it. She admired Mingin and Mercy for reclaiming the family’s property.”

  “Kane Dox was Mingin’s birth name before he was captured,” Cristal says, pausing with a coffee sip, expecting Twyla to grasp the name’s significance. Her blank expression reveals she hadn’t. “When Kane’s parents killed a Seneca Wolf Clan warrior for trespassing on their settlement, the clan retaliated and killed them. Ten-year-old Kane was taken captive to replace their warrior, Gray Wolf, a common practice by the Iroquois. Assimilated into the tribe, Kane remained with them most of his life. After the war, he forged a bond with Captain Dox, and helped him build the farmstead on this property…”

  “And,” Twyla interjects, “when Captain Dox died, his wife Mercy, with Mingin and his adoptive Seneca family, maintained the property, and constructed this house from a log cabin over the years. I know that part of the story well,” Twyla says with a smile. “Mingin’s history intrigued me as a child. A captive at 10 –how terrifying.”

  “I suspect you saw remnants of the log cabin in the corridor.”

  “Yes, the house showed me two time periods,” Twyla murmurs.

  “Tessa explained she’d acquired Mercy Dox’s diaries from her parents and secured them in a special place. Have you ever seen them?”

  “No, never. They can’t be legible after years of storage.”

  “I believe they’re still here in the house. She kept them hidden because they contained important information about this property and something incriminating that she never disclosed about Mingin and Mercy Dox. Those diaries contain the history of the home and sacred ruins.” Cristal notices Twyla’s puzzled brows. “What’s wrong?”

  “Kane Dox… Dox as in Harrison Dox?”

  “The same family,” Cristal states, glad she perceived the connection but surprised she hadn’t earlier, knowing the story of Kane Dox so well.

  “How stupid of me! I should have recognized the Dox name the moment Harrison booked a room. Mingin’s actual name slipped my mind. Hmm, if Kane Dox accepted the Seneca ways, why did Captain Dox accept Mingin and his new family?”

  “Mingin was Captain Dox’s nephew for one, his brother’s son. He couldn’t turn him away. Remorse for his war actions against the Iroquois might be another reason.”

  “Grams said Jawanda, Garrentha, and Billy remained Mercy’s servants and caretakers until her death.”

  “And inherited the property.”

  “So Captain Dox is Harrison’s great, great, great grandfather?”

  “Or a distant uncle or cousin. Tessa wasn’t sure of Harrison’s lineage. She believed it stems from Captain Dox’s siblings in Virginia who later moved to Ithaca, New York where Harrison lives now.”

  “So why didn’t they inherit the l
and?”

  “Both Captain Dox and Mercy’s name were on the land deed. So, it was rightfully hers when he died. She entrusted the property to her faithful servants, your ancestors who owned the property until the 1930s. Anson Dox, Harrison’s great-grandfather, purchased the land. Right after his murder, Anson’s testament was found, bequeathing the land back to your family. Harrison’s contesting the will, claiming his great grandfather’s mind wasn’t right when he wrote the will. He also says Captain Dox borrowed money from his family in Virginia to buy the land. The loan was never repaid so the estate belongs to the Dox family.”

  “But Mercy’s name was also on the deed.”

  “Yes, but there’s no record showing she contributed money to purchase the land.”

  “Can Harrison claim the property without proof of her purchase?”

  “No, he can’t. Besides, documents Tessa gave me attest to his sanity and willingness to return the property to the Newhouse family, as endorsed by Dox’s lawyer and colleague. We have strong enough proof to stand up in court,” she states, touching Twyla’s locket. “I wondered a year ago who’d receive the pendant. After reading Tessa’s letter, I knew you’d inherit it. She left the locket to you for a reason, Twyla. It holds the key to Twilight’s history. You ever use the key?”

  Stroking the locket, Twyla flicks it open to the small brass barrel key. “Not yet.”

  “You should – there’s much you might learn about Tess,” Cristal says, expressionless, hoping that’s enough to provoke her interest. “Tessa ever mention Keepers of the Western Door or KWD?”

  “Yes, KWD were the Seneca tribe,” Twyla replies.

  “Tessa always maintained Keepers of the Western Door still guard the gate. I believe it’s true. Do you know how Anson Dox died?” Cristal asks.

  “His death is still an enigma to my family. He died from three arrows on this property near the private gated plot. Kids in town often joked when I was young and teased the Newhouse family will send an arrow through your heart if you make them angry. Kids are so cruel, but I didn’t allow the taunts to affect me. It’s astounding how locals perpetuated the story. It became part of the town’s folklore. Anyway, it kept the kids afraid and away from the property.”