The Visitor

by Amanda Stevens

“Yes, ma’am.” Quickly, I wiped my shoes on the mat before stepping into a large foyer with aged pine flooring and thick plaster walls. A ceiling fan stirred currents of chilled air and I had to suppress a shiver.

  “Wait right here while I go fetch Miss Vinnie.” I had a feeling the woman wanted to caution me not to touch anything but managed to curtail the impulse by tightly pursing her lips before she turned and disappeared down a long, spacious hallway.

  Left alone, I gazed around curiously, craning my neck to see into the well-appointed parlor on one side of the stairs and the dining room on the other. I would have expected to find family portraits lining the magnificent walls, but the artwork was mostly equine in nature. Through a row of French doors, I spied a peacock strutting across the lawn, and beyond the garden, a horse and rider jumped hedges at the edge of a pasture.

  I watched for a moment, mesmerized even from this distance by the grace and symmetry of both animal and human before turning back to my immediate surroundings. I couldn’t help wondering if Ezra Kroll had once lived in this house and if he had ever regretted leaving behind such a comfortable life for the meager existence of the commune.

  “Miss Gray?”

  I whirled at the sound of my name.

  Louvenia Durant had come through the dining room while my attention had been diverted and now she stood in the large doorway observing me. As our eyes met, I had the unsettling notion that she knew exactly what I had been thinking.

  “Your trip over was pleasant, I trust.” Her gaze was very direct and vaguely anxious.

  “Yes, it was a nice drive, thank you.”

  “I’m sorry my assistant wasn’t able to reach you before you left Charleston.” Her face darkened as her gaze went to the window that looked out on the front grounds. The rider I’d glimpsed earlier had left the pasture and now walked the magnificent chestnut sedately up the long drive. For a moment, Louvenia seemed struck by the sight and then she collected herself. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”

  “Oh?”

  “Something unexpected has come up. A family matter that can’t wait. Our meeting will have to be postponed. I’m terribly sorry. I can’t apologize enough for the inconvenience.”

  “No worries. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  “That remains to be seen,” she murmured, her gaze darting back to the window.

  The rider was still some distance away, but when he removed his helmet, I saw the spill of silvery-gold curls across his forehead. I sensed a mounting tension in Louvenia as Micah Durant drew closer.

  “My grandson,” she finally said. “He’s only been back a short time and already he has the household in an uproar. Not to mention that poor horse in a lather.” Her lips thinned in disapproval as he steered the chestnut off the road, taking a shortcut across the lawn to the stables. She tore her gaze away and offered a strained smile. “I’ll be tied up with family business for the rest of the afternoon, but I’d like to reschedule our meeting as soon as possible. That is, if you’re still agreeable.”

  “Of course,” I said, trying to curtail my disappointment. Or was it relief? “Shall I call you in a day or two to set something up?”

  “I don’t want to wait that long. I feel that time is of the essence and we should get started on the restoration as soon as possible.” She brushed her hands down the tail of her shirt, a nervous tic that made me wonder what was going on inside her head. “I know this is terribly presumptuous of me, but I wonder if you’d be willing to come back in the morning. Say around eight?” Before I could answer, she quickly added, “I don’t expect you to drive in from Charleston at that hour, but maybe you’d be willing to stay over. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging accommodations for you in town at my sister’s bed-and-breakfast. Dr. Shaw and his associate are occupying the upstairs guest rooms, but there’s a small cottage in the garden that I think you’ll find cozy. And of course, I’ll be more than happy to reimburse you for your time.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Mrs. Durant.”

  “I’m a businesswoman, Miss Gray. If I were in your shoes, I would expect no less. Please do consider the offer. As I said, I’m anxious to get started on the restoration. I’ve put it off for far too long, but now that I’ve made up my mind, I find myself impatient to have it done with.”

  “I’ll make a call and see about rearranging my schedule,” I said, mentally going over my commitments for the rest of the week. “Will it be all right if I let you know later this afternoon?”

  “Yes, of course. Just leave a message with Grace Anne. She’ll make sure I get it.”

  I nodded my agreement. “I won’t keep you, but may I ask a favor before I go?”

  She lifted a curious brow.

  “I understand Dr. Shaw has already begun his investigation at the cemetery. I’d like to drop by there to see him this afternoon if you’ve no objection.”

  “I’ve no particular objection, but the cemetery is difficult to get to. Are you sure you can find it on your own?”

  “Dr. Shaw gave me a map and I can always call him if I get lost.”

  She gave a brief nod. “You’re anxious to see Rose’s grave, I expect.”

  “I’m interested in the whole cemetery, but I can’t deny a fascination for a grave with my name on it.”

  “You do look so much like her,” Louvenia mused. “At least, the way she looked when she first came here.”

  “Miss Toombs said she and her twin were very devoted to Rose.”

  “They adored her. She was always so gentle with them and so very protective. I’m thankful they had her in their lives, even if for only a short while. God knows they had little enough joy. People can be so unspeakably cruel.”

  “Yes, unfortunately that’s true.”

  She glanced at me with a frown. “You must know about my sisters. It seems you’ve spoken with Nelda at length.”

  “She mentioned they had a difficult childhood,” I said carefully.

  “To put it mildly. In this day and age, my sisters would be favorable candidates for separation since they shared no vital organs, but back then surgery on conjoined twins was tricky. We were told the lengthy operation might result in one of their deaths. How do you choose?”

  It was a rhetorical question so I said nothing.

  “Mother wouldn’t accept the risk,” Louvenia went on. “Had she lived, things would have been easier—on all of us—but after she passed, the care of the twins fell to Ezra and me. When he came back from the war, he could barely look after himself. I’ll be the first to admit that I should have been a better guardian.” Her fingers tangled in the tail of her shirt as if she were trying to wipe away something unpleasant from her hands.

  “I’m sure you did the best you could,” I murmured.

  Her smile was wan. “You’re very kind to think so. My only excuse is that I wasn’t much more than a girl myself and wrapped up in my own affairs. Rose offered the twins sanctuary. A safe haven where they didn’t have to worry about being bullied by the other children.”

  “Your sister said Rose was their tutor.”

  “She was so much more than that. I believe they came to think of her as a surrogate mother. I’m certain they would have gone to live with her if given the opportunity. As it was, they spent every waking moment thinking about her, talking about her, making little gifts for her. It was a harmless obsession. Nelda was always the stronger of the two. The dominant twin, I suppose. Someone at the Colony built a little device, a sort of cart with a special harness so that she could pull Mott along behind her. Off they’d go. Sometimes at night, I can still hear the squeak of those wheels.” She paused and I could have sworn I saw a shudder go through her. I, too, suppressed a shiver as I remembered the metallic sound from my garden.

  “They must have had a very strong bond with Rose,” I said
.

  “A bond,” Louvenia mused. “Yes, that’s an apt way of putting it. I think in some ways, Rose clung to them just as tightly. I often wondered if she’d lost a child of her own before she came here. There was such a sadness about her.”

  “Your sister mentioned that Rose became ill.”

  Louvenia nodded. “When she got really bad, she’d wander the countryside at all hours, mumbling to herself, pointing to things that no one else could see. It was really quite eerie. And the way she would look at you. As if she could see all the way down into your soul.” Louvenia closed her eyes. “The memory of it still brings a chill.”

  “Who took care of her during her illness?”

  “Nelda did what she could, but she was still so young, only fourteen or so, and the surgery after Mott passed left her weak. A local doctor looked in on Rose from time to time, as did I, but there was no one else. Most of the townsfolk were afraid of Rose. And of Nelda, too, I think.”

  I was hesitant to pursue the conversation. How much did I really want to know about Rose’s descent into madness? But I couldn’t leave it alone. I couldn’t ignore the squeamish details when there might be a chance I could learn something that would keep me from the same fate. “Did Nelda arrange for Rose’s burial in Kroll Cemetery?”

  “There really was no other place for her,” Louvenia said.

  “Because of the suicide?”

  Another hesitation. “Yes, of course. The suicide.”

  Before I could say anything else, the front door opened and a man breezed in with a leather overnighter strapped over one shoulder. His slacks and shirt were neatly pressed, his loafers polished to a high gleam. He turned his back to me as he closed the door, but I knew who he was at once.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Owen Dowling called over his shoulder as he hung the bag on a hook near the door. “I had to take care of a few things before I left Charleston. I’m afraid Micah may not be our only problem—”

  He turned toward the foyer and froze when he caught sight of me.

  His sudden appearance seemed to have rendered Louvenia speechless. The fingers of one hand tangled in her shirt while the other hand crept to her throat.

  Thirty-Two

  “Owen,” she finally managed. “I— You surprised me.”

  “Really? Aunt Nelda told you I was coming, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, of course. I guess I lost track of the time. Anyway, I’d like you to meet Amelia Gray. She’s the cemetery restorer Nelda and I met with the other day in Charleston.”

  “I’ve already had the pleasure,” he said with a flash of his usual charm. “I’d like to thank you again for returning the stereoscope to my great-aunt. She was quite overcome with emotion after you left the shop.”

  “I’m happy it’s back with its rightful owner,” I said.

  “What’s this about a stereoscope?” Louvenia asked.

  “I’ll explain later,” Owen said. “No need to bore Miss Gray with a story she already knows.”

  “No, of course not,” Louvenia murmured. She seemed subdued, perhaps even a little cowed by Owen, but I found that hard to imagine from a woman who had managed a sizable estate and run a successful horse farm for most of her adult life.

  “So you’re here about Kroll Cemetery,” Owen said. “It really is nice of you to come all this way. My aunt tells me that we’ve another visitor from Charleston. A ghost hunter and his assistant have taken rooms in her B and B.”

  That seemed to rouse Louvenia from her daze. I saw a flare of the same impatience she’d shown Nelda that day at Oak Grove. “Dr. Rupert Shaw is not a ghost hunter. The work he does at the Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies is highly regarded all over the state.”

  “I meant no disrespect,” Owen said gently.

  Louvenia was not appeased. She lifted her chin. “You’ve been listening to Nelda, haven’t you?”

  “She’s expressed some concern,” Owen admitted.

  “I’m sure she has. She thinks I’m a fool or even worse, demented. But I’m telling you something is out there.” Louvenia seemed to be addressing Owen, but her gaze was on me. “How do you explain the fact that no horse or dog will go near that place? Or birds. You won’t find so much as a wren’s nest in the trees growing around the wall.”

  “Now, Louvenia,” Owen soothed. “I wouldn’t go getting all worked up about it. Especially when we’ve other things to worry about at the moment.” He gave her a meaningful glance.

  “I warned you. I warned you all,” she said with mounting agitation. “You shouldn’t mock things you know nothing about. I don’t like it and neither do they.”

  Owen shot me a look. “Of course you’re right, but perhaps this is a subject best discussed later. After all, you wouldn’t want to frighten Miss Gray away, would you?”

  “I was just leaving,” I rushed to say.

  Louvenia seemed to have forgotten my presence. She stared at me blankly for a moment before the fog lifted. “If you still plan to go out to the cemetery this afternoon, please take care,” she said, slipping back into her cordial if somewhat reserved demeanor. “It’s a very disorienting place and the woods that surround it are dense. You might find yourself lost even with a map.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised.

  “Are you headed out there now?” Owen asked. “Why don’t I walk you to your car and at least point you in the right direction?”

  “I won’t put you to the trouble,” I said. “I’m certain I can find the way.”

  “It’s no trouble. I need to fetch something from the car anyway.” He turned to Louvenia. “I’ve brought you a gift. Just a little something from the shop I think you’ll enjoy.”

  She nodded absently. “Make sure you tell her about the maze. And the latch on the gate. There’s a trick to both of them. And please let me know if you decide to stay over, Miss Gray. I’ll make sure my sister takes good care of you.”

  “I will. And thank you for the chat,” I said.

  “Oh, it was my pleasure. I hope to speak with you again very soon.”

  With that, I followed Owen Dowling out the front door and across the wide veranda. We were both silent until we reached the steps and then he stopped and turned to me with an apologetic smile. “Louvenia tends to have some strange notions. I hope she didn’t scare you away with all that talk about something being ‘out there.’”

  “No, of course not.”

  “I didn’t think so, but some people are easily spooked. I guess when you work alone in abandoned cemeteries you can’t afford to let your imagination get the better of you.”

  “I take it you don’t think there’s any basis for her concern.”

  “Why, Miss Gray,” he said in a teasing voice. “Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.”

  “I try to keep an open mind.”

  “Please don’t tell Louvenia. She doesn’t need the encouragement.” He glanced worriedly over his shoulder. “Normally, she’s the most down-to-earth, business-minded person I know, with the possible exception of Aunt Nelda. Both of them are extraordinary entrepreneurs, Louvenia with the farm and Aunt Nelda with all her little businesses. But ever since I can remember, Louvenia has had an almost pathological superstition about that old cemetery.”

  “Is that why her grandson is against the restoration?”

  “You’ve met Micah?” Owen asked in surprise.

  “Not formally, but I’ve seen him around.”

  He lifted a brow. “May I ask where?”

  “He was at the cemetery in Charleston the day I first met with your aunts.”

  “Ah. Well, to answer your question, I doubt his motives are at all altruistic. I’m quite certain he has his own agenda. Which is another reason Aunt Nelda and I are so worried about Louvenia. If she gets too caught u
p in that old cemetery again, she’s apt to overlook the real threat that’s living right here under her nose.”

  “You think her own grandson would try to harm her?”

  Owen paused. “The problem is none of us really know Micah anymore or what he’s been up to. Even before he left, he was a troubled young man. In and out of institutions since boyhood.”

  “I see.” I put a hand to the back of my neck as my skin started to prickle.

  “Is something wrong?” Owen asked.

  “I didn’t notice all those bees at the end of the veranda earlier. But their drone now is really distracting.”

  He listened for a moment before turning back to me. “Louvenia keeps a number of colonies around the farm. The family has a long history of beekeeping.”

  I took a few steps into the yard, distancing myself from the incessant buzzing.

  “There’s no need to worry,” Owen said. “Bees aren’t aggressive when they’re swarming. Unless they feel threatened, of course. I suppose that’s one of the good things about Micah’s return. Possibly the only good thing. He’s taken over the beekeeping duties. It’s very hard work and Aunt Louvenia has never been one for delegation. But Micah has always had a way with the bees. A rapport. The most successful beekeepers do, you know.” Owen’s gaze shifted away from me and he frowned. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered.

  I turned to find Micah Durant staring across the lawn at us. He’d removed his shirt and I could see the outline of his ribs along his emaciated torso. The back of my neck still tingled as if a bee had crawled inside my collar. I resisted the urge to put up a hand because I somehow knew that was what Micah wanted.

  I must have made some involuntary sound or movement because Owen said, “Yes, he’s always had that effect on people. It’s really quite disconcerting the way he stares you down like that.”

  I wanted to turn away, break eye contact with Micah Durant, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Lifting his face to the sky, he slowly unfurled his arms and froze in that rapturous pose while Owen and I stood enthralled.

  All of a sudden, the droning in the flower beds became so loud that my first instinct was to run for cover. I started to flee to my vehicle but halted when a cloud of honeybees rose from the blossoms and flew across the yard toward Micah. Within a matter of seconds, every inch of his scrawny body was covered in thousands of droning, crawling honeybees until he no longer resembled anything human.