“Why? What wouldn’t Uncle...her husband...give her what she wanted so badly? What was it?” Randy asked.
“That, I cannot tell you. All I know is that he had something she desired most ardently, and he refused to give it to her. I believe it was quite valuable.”
“Valuable? What was it? You’re sure you don’t know?”
“No, child.” A slight shake of the head. “But, I believe it had something to do with...the lost Miranda Bainbridge.”
At the mention of that name, Willadee moaned. Randy grabbed her cousin’s hand and squeezed it. “Miranda? The lost Miranda? What could Elizabeth want so badly that had to do with her missing sister-in-law? Did she know where Miranda was? Is that why Elizabeth walked out into the marsh and committed suicide? She knew something about the missing girl? Unbelievable. In fact, the whole thing smells worse than marsh mud, if you ask me.”
Sister Luke seemed to levitate from her chair. “Oh, sweet child...you are mistaken. I gave Elizabeth a charm...yes. It was a charm to help her find something. Perhaps it was the lost Miranda she found.” The woman’s full lips lifted in mirth. “However, since I do not know this absolutely, I shall not pursue it. What takes place in that house of evil is not my concern. No, my dear ladies, I do not know what it was she wanted. That, I think will have to come from asking her shade.”
“Shade?”
“Yes, shade or spirit, if you will.”
Randy met the woman’s black eyes—great pools as deep as the universe—and fought the desire to look away. “Thank you, Sister Luke. For the information, I mean. We’ll go now,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel. “I appreciate your talking to us.”
Pulling her cousin along, Randy left without a backward glance. Determined not to run or give the appearance of panic, she maintained a steady stride and squeezed her cousin’s hand whenever the other showed signs of breaking into a run.
When they reached the main road, Willadee, her teeth chattering, managed to get a few words out. “S-so, wh-what are w-we going t-to do now? G-go home?”
“No, we aren’t going home. It’s only 12:43. Let’s walk back into town, have lunch, some ice cream, get the few things I have to get at the drugstore to make the outing legit, and just plain have a good time. Besides, we have to do some serious talking.”
“How-how can you b-be so blasé? I’m scared sick.”
“Of what? If there is a ghost...and I’m not saying there is...she’s not here in town. Let’s eat something and talk it through. Okay?”
Willadee nodded in resignation, and together they headed back into the charming and blessedly serene sea island town.
THIRTEEN
Over shrimp burgers, smothered in tartar sauce, and crisp seasoned fries, Randy and Willadee discussed what they’d gleaned from Sister Luke. Willadee was still somewhat shaken from the ordeal, but Randy reassured her that the woman was nothing more than a poor actress putting on a cheesy show. Willadee wasn’t so easily convinced.
“But, Miranda, you said yourself that you saw Elizabeth’s ghost. Remember?”
Randy licked ketchup from her fingers then took a long sip of her Coke. “Nooo, I said I saw someone who I thought was a woman, but in no way did I intimate that the woman was Elizabeth.” She leaned back in her chair. “Okay. Before we go any further, let’s get one thing straight, once and for all. My name. I know that Auntie insists on calling me by my baptismal name, Miranda, but I flinch every time I hear it. My name is Randy. R-A-N-D-Y. Randy. Not Miranda. Would you please call me by my real name? I mean, it’s not like…”
Willadee appeared so startled by this that Randy hastened to add, “I realize it sounds like a totally childish complaint in the midst of what we could consider heavy drama, but…” She stopped as Willadee broke into a sudden spasm of giggles. It was the first time Randy had heard her cousin act anywhere near normal. “Okay, okay, enough already.” More giggles. “Jeez, what did I say?”
Willadee stuffed her napkin against her mouth and waved her other hand. “Oh...that was so...funny.” She hiccuped. “I’ll...I’ll try to remember, Randy. But, please...don’t get mad if I forget once in a while.”
“Awesome,” was all Randy could think to say.
By three o’clock, the cousins were no longer obsessed with the subject of ghosts, but were laughing uproariously over shared tales from their respective schools. Each tried to outdo the other with animated accounts of situations concerning the opposite sex that were embarrassing as well as hilarious. With a double-scoop ice cream cone in hand, they took their time—pausing frequently—as they strolled to the grocery store for their rendezvous with Uncle Arthur.
As expected, their elderly uncle was on time. The girls climbed into the backseat, careful not to drip ice cream. Their uncle nodded once then rolled onto the main road. No one said much during the short ride back to the house. Both aunts, however, were more than eager to hear about their day, and were stationed in the foyer, waiting to greet them.
“Did you eat a good lunch?” Aunt Amanda wanted to know.
“Did you see all the shops?” was Aunt Carolina’s question.
Willadee told them about a display of sea-glass jewelry they’d seen in one particular shop, and Randy regaled them with a minute-by-minute description of their lunch. Satisfied that the cousins had, indeed, had a wonderful day, both were excused. They nearly collided with one another in their haste to get away and dashed upstairs before one or the other of the adults could call them back.
“Willadee...we have to plan,” Randy said before her cousin escaped to her room.
“Plan? Plan what?”
“Our next move. Somehow, we’ve got to catch whoever is walking around in the dead of night pretending to be someone’s ghost and find out the reason she, or he, is doing it.”
“But what if it is a real ghost. It’s bad enough dreaming about them. But to actually speak to one. I went along with you this far. Why won’t you just leave it alone? We’re playing with fire, Mir-uh-Randy.”
“Sister Luke didn’t hurt us, did she? I told you, she’s harmless, unless you buy into all that stuff about charms and curses.”
“Randy, I’ve seen how it works, remember? And...and she called our house ‘evil’. Oh, I know she hexed me two years ago.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Did you ever stop to consider that you just had the flu, and what happened after your visit to Dr. Spook was a coincidence?”
“No...I suppose you could be right...but the dream was so real...so frightening.”
“Yeah, but when you’re delirious, no telling what nightmares you can have. Ask any doctor if you don’t believe me. Let’s wash up and talk about it later. You can have the bathroom first.”
The girls went their separate ways—Willadee to shower and Randy to read some more of her mother’s diary. Curling up on the window seat, Randy turned again to the back of the book.
…I thought about telling Mama but then decided it wouldn’t do any good. They are all saying that Elizabeth is moody because she drinks too much because she’s bored. Maybe. Arthur took her up to Asheville for a long weekend and they wined and dined and everything. She came home smiling and laughing and we all thought everything was going to be all right but after only a week she began to play those awful songs on the piano again, complain about everything and fight with Arthur…
Randy stopped reading for a minute and stared out the window. From her position, she could see the ocean, a lot of the marsh, and Henry at the other end of the expansive yard, clipping away at some bushes. How could it be so beautiful here, and at the same time so dark and brooding? She continued reading.
…Now I know I’m going to marry Cam. Not only do I love him to pieces, I have to get as far away from here as possible. Of course I know I have to finish college and Cam still has law school but as soon as we can we are going to get married…
“Cam,” Randy said aloud. “My mother called Dad, Cam. Not Cameron. That’s sweet. Cam…” She let the nickname
roll over her tongue. The whole idea made her mother come alive.
…When I asked Elizabeth why she was crying one day, she looked so angry that I began feeling prickles up and down my spine. Then she told me about Miranda, or, I should say, Miranda’s ghost. Elizabeth said she’s haunting this house and she (the ghost) wants to be found. She said that Arthur had the ‘key’ that would unlock her prison and release her confined spirit but was too selfish—too much a coward—to do anything about it. I’m so confused. I tried to confide in Colton, but he only told me to mind my own business; that married people’s concerns were not mine. Anyway, Colton is so wrapped up in his new love that he couldn’t care less about any of us here…
Randy eagerly turned the page to read more, but to her dismay, there were no other entries. She closed the book and got up to open the window seat and put the diary where she’d found it. It was hers. She didn’t want anyone else to read it. Closing the lid and setting the cushion back in place, a thought hit her. Did all the bedrooms have built-in window seats? Maybe Elizabeth kept a diary or a journal and hid it in the window seat like Emily had done. It was worth a try.
She found Uncle Arthur in the library—a room she’d yet to visit. Situated behind the living room, it doubled as a library and a den or office. Uncle Arthur spent most of his time in this room—doing what, Randy hadn’t a clue. Knocking on the closed door, she waited to be acknowledged.
Receiving permission to enter, Randy walked in. The room was a veritable shrine to an era that had ended over a hundred and fifty years ago. Pictures of famous Confederate generals graced one wall, a large map of South Carolina, another. On the third wall hung a large flag that Randy didn’t recognize. A white crescent moon and white star rested on a red background. Uncle Arthur interpreted her confusion. “That, my dear, is what we call the Secession Flag of South Carolina. Lovely, isn’t it?”
“Oh. I’ve never seen anything like it. Interesting.” Her hand swept the room. “This is a great room, Uncle Arthur. You’ve got a regular museum going here, don’t you? I suppose, being a native, you’re interested in the Civil War…”
“The War of Northern Aggression, my dear.”
“Oh...sorry. Well, like I said...it’s interesting.” Deciding it was time to change the subject, she directed her brightest smile at her uncle, who sat behind a large, highly polished desk surrounded by an amazing pile of paperwork.
“Uncle Arthur, I won’t take any more of your time. I just want to ask a quick question.”
“Certainly, my dear.”
“Do you have a built-in window seat in your bedroom?”
He looked confused. “A, uh, window seat? In...in my bedroom, you say?”
“Yes. A built-in window seat, you know, under the big window?”
“Can’t say, uh, maybe...I don’t think so...why?”
“Oh, I was just curious. I have one in my room, so I just wondered whether all the rooms had them. That’s all. Thanks.”
Randy left the room before her uncle could ask her any questions she didn’t want to answer. She ran back upstairs and peeked into the bathroom. Seeing that Willadee had finished with her shower, Randy tapped on her cousin’s door. Willadee opened it, her long, brown hair, still damp.
“Willadee, listen. You’ve got to help me do one quick thing.”
“What?” Her cousin’s voice bordered on a whine.
“Just stand at the top of the stairs and listen for anybody coming upstairs. I’m going into Uncle Arthur’s room to check out something very important.”
“Randy, you can’t. You can’t just go into somebody’s room without permission.”
“It’s an emergency. I swear. It’ll only take me a sec. Just be my lookout.”
Before her cousin could say another word, Randy opened the door to her uncle’s bedroom. Uncle Arthur and Aunt Amanda had their rooms next to their mother’s—the opposite end of the long hallway from the rest of the family. Randy paused for one heartbeat then hurried into the dim room. The heavy, brocaded curtains were drawn and the place, though clean and dust-free, smelled stale and the air felt thick and heavy.
Surveying the room, Randy spotted the window seat and dashed over to it. Lifting the cushion, she examined the wooden seat for a knob. She found it and gave it a twist. The lid of the seat moved and she pushed it up. The hollow seat was empty. The only thing lying at the bottom was a shriveled carcass of a spider—its dried legs curled against its thorax. Disappointed, Randy closed the seat and replaced the cushion.
Willadee was waiting for her out in the hall. “Well? Did you find what you so desperately wanted?”
“No. Let me think a minute… Will, do you keep anything in your window seat?”
“In my what?”
“Your window seat. You must have a window seat in your room. You know, built in, under the big window?”
“Yes, I have a built-in window seat, but what do you mean by keeping anything in it? Don’t you mean on it? I do have a stuffed elephant.”
“Oh my gosh. Don’t tell me that you didn’t know there’s a compartment inside the window seat?”
“Th-there is? No, I didn’t know. The seat doesn’t move or anything.”
Randy pulled Willadee into her room and over to her window seat. Her stuffed elephant, dressed in a pink tutu, sat primly on a flowered cushion. Randy wasted no time in tossing the chubby ballerina and prissy cushion out of the way. Finding the tiny knob just where it should be, she turned it and lifted the seat with an exaggerated flourish. “Ta da.”
Willadee gasped in astonishment. “How did you know the seats were hollow?”
“Just by accident. But never mind. Look. There’s tons of stuff in here.” Randy chortled as she reached in. Her hand found a large, flat book, bound in printed fabric, and pulled it out. Opening it, she read the first page aloud.
“’A Journal for My Thoughts’, signed ‘Miranda Pauline Bainbridge’,” Randy’s voice quivered. She looked at her cousin in disbelief. “Miranda’s journal? I can’t believe this. What is it doing in your room?”
“Didn’t you know? This was originally Miranda’s room,” Willadee’s voice was feathery-soft.
FOURTEEN
Randy stared at her cousin with excitement. “Oh, this is too awesome. There has to be an answer in here to the Miranda question. There has to be a clue. Hurry up, read the first page.”
* * * *
For the next hour, the girls pored over the old journal. Although not a diary, it was filled with hand-written thoughts and dreams and ideas—even a sketch or two—from a teen-aged girl who’d disappeared over forty years ago. The cousins read page after page—chuckles escaping now and then as they each grew more acquainted with a long-lost aunt. They’d just finished reading the last page when the dinner bell sounded below.
“Oh, no, it’s dinner time, and I haven’t showered or changed or anything.” Randy moaned.
“Well, we can’t be late. That’d be the crowning insult in Auntie’s book. Come on. We’ll give them a convincing reason why you’re not ready.”
They trouped downstairs and into the dining room. Aunt Amanda’s eyebrows shot up two inches, and her mouth opened to reprove, but Willadee spoke first.
“Y’all please excuse us. I took more time than I should in the shower, and then Randy and I got so absorbed in talking about our day, that we lost all track of time.” She sounded so sweet and contrite that even Randy bought it. Apparently, so did their elders.
“Oh, I think we can excuse you this time, don’t you agree, Amanda? I am so happy that you two cousins are gettin’ along so well. Aren’t you, Colton?” Aunt Carolina beamed.
Willadee’s father nodded. “Yes, they’re coming along.” He winked at the girls. “You two cooking up some mischief? You look like two cats who’ve swallowed a couple canaries.”
“For heaven’s sake, Colton. What a thing to say.” Aunt Amanda reproached.
Colton only chuckled and Carolina’s lips twitched. Somewhat mollified,
Aunt Amanda nodded her head toward the girls and said, “All right. This once, we will overlook your negligence. However, in the future, ladies, please be more cognizant of the time.”
The cousins demurred and the dinner progressed with congenial comments made concerning each one’s day. As soon as they’d eaten dessert, Randy and Willadee excused themselves and strolled at a slow pace until they were out of sight. Running the rest of the way, they dashed into Willadee’s room and closed the door.
They retrieved everything hidden in the hollow seat and spread it out on the floor. Besides the journal, there were two birthday cards—both from Amanda—a ticket stub from a Broadway play, some letters from a pen pal in London, various photos of the family, and a battered teddy bear.
“Gosh,” Randy sat back and sighed, “there’s nothing here. No clues whatsoever. Darn. I was so sure we’d find something.”
“Yes...all we’ve learned is that Miranda was a fairly normal, happy young woman. Some of the things she’s written remind me of you. I think you two are a lot alike. You are both adventurous, love doing things outside, and are high-spirited. From reading her journal, she seems so alive to me now.”
“Yeah. Not the type to run away just because she had a tiff with her sister...certainly not over something so trivial as a sweater. Right?”
“Yes, I agree. So where do we go from here?”
Sitting on the floor with her back against Willadee’s bed, Randy closed her eyes to think. “Okay,” she said, her eyes still shut, “let’s make a list. I’ll brainstorm and you write it all down. Okay?”
Willadee scuffled for pen and paper then waited, pen poised to write. Randy opened one eye, saw that her cousin was ready and began. “Okay. Number one: Miranda disappears forty years ago. Number two: Elizabeth gets all moody and belligerent. Number three: everybody here is repressed and depressed.” Catching her cousin’s frown, Randy quickly amended. “Okay, some of the people here are repressed and depressed. Number four…”
Shade and Shadow Page 9
