by Evie Nichole
Selene watched Betty’s reddish-gray head lower and strained to hear the next statement.
“Yes, I’ll call again, but I don’t know when. You know how it is; Barkley surrounds himself with his surrogate servant family. Besides, Sarah’s replacement is with him.”
Selene liked the tone of Betty’s voice even less than her actual words. Sarah’s replacement? It was a pithy statement made with a bitter voice.
Betty barked a laugh that made Selene jump. “Last? No. I don’t think so. She’s a nice enough woman, but…I’ll just leave it at that.” There was silence, long silence, and Betty finally promised the unknown person that she would call as soon as she could, and said her goodbye.
Selene kept her eyes on Betty’s still-turned back as she eased her way silently back around the corner. She didn’t know what to think. She wanted to put on her happy face and go back around the corner to wish Betty a good morning, just to see her reaction, but MJ came rolling away from the barn in a golf cart of all things. He threw a long arm in the air.
“Good morning, Gisele! Ready for that tour?”
Selene looked over her shoulder. She turned back to MJ with a smile.
“Absolutely.”
Selene spent the next hour with MJ, riding through horse fields and having near hilarious collisions. Selene found herself relaxing under his endless barrage of jokes and stories. She found that even though he was a flirt, he was also a kind, life-loving man.
“I want to show you something really special.” He grinned at her, his dark eyes crinkling in a pleasant way. Selene couldn’t think of a better reason to have crow’s feet other than a life of laughter and smiles.
“Let’s go then.”
MJ drove the golf cart past the right hand side of the barn and kept going towards the tree line. Selene yelled in mock horror as it appeared that they would just crash though brush and possibly a tree. She soon realized that there was a barely detectable path.
“There’s no way you’re going to get this thing through there.”
MJ laughed loudly, turning the golf cart off. “No, ma’am, we’re walking from here.”
They walked into the woods, the thick mass of trees and underbrush causing the temperature to drop a couple more degrees. Selene rubbed the sides of her arms.
“Cold? You can take my jacket.” MJ didn’t wait for her to accept or deny the offer before he stripped it off and put it around her shoulders.
“Thanks,” Selene said, gratefully sliding her arms into the soft sleeves. “So, where are we going?”
MJ held a branch for her so she could duck under it. “I’m going to show you a piece of history.”
They walked another hundred yards or so, by Selene’s estimation, until the trees and underbrush thinned into a small clearing. The clearing was just a circle of sorts in the middle of the woods, but there was a blackened chimney standing amongst the charred rubble of a house long ago burned.
“What is this place?” Selene whispered. She had once been to a mausoleum for the funeral of a good friend of her mother’s. The place was hushed and hairs had stood up on her neck and arms. They listened to a priest speak Latin before the casket was pushed into its final resting place. Where she stood in that small clearing evoked the same response. It felt like a place of death.
“This here was one of the slave quarters for the plantation. There used to be three houses, all just alike. When the fire happened”—he lowered his head, hand to chin, in thought—“it was about nineteen fifty, I think. The houses were burned to the ground by the Klan.”
Selene’s eyes grew large as she whipped her head towards him. “The Ku Klux Klan?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said solemnly. “One family stubbornly remained, but they received the same treatment.” He sucked in air through his teeth. “This time it left a boy, barely into his teens, hanging from a tree.”
Selene shuddered. Her mind involuntarily flashing to a bloated-faced woman, hanging from a light pole in Afghanistan. Her bloody burka had hung off of her listlessly. Her crime hadn’t been the color of her skin; it had been her choice of religion.
“That’s awful.”
“Yes. But I didn’t bring you out here to make you sad. I just wanted you to see it. I wanted to share it with someone who might appreciate its significance.”
“Why did it happen? If they lived out here peacefully?”
MJ picked up a rock and tossed it towards an old stone well, the rope pulley and bucket long gone. “Rumor has it that the old man who owned the house, and Barkley owns now, wanted to leave it to the families living out here in the woods. He died from cancer right after changing his will. Rumor also has it that he was fussing with his family a bit, but they felt like the house and land should be theirs anyway.”
“So, what happened?”
“Well, the woman and her two sons who remained, took over the manor house. She had been looking after the man anyway. Cleaning his house and all. She had been since she was a teenager herself.”
“Were they able to stay? I mean, did those people leave them alone?”
MJ shook his head. “They had a right hard go of it.” He picked up another rock. “No one would sell to them in town. You know blacks were free back then, but everything was still segregated and stuff.”
“Yes.”
“So, the woman eventually died, and her sons took over, but they had to sell some of the land off to survive. At one time the entire property was about two hundred and fifty acres. The family never gave up. The next two generations kept trying to buy the place, but it was somehow always kept away from them, either by will or a crazy asking price, or the seller refusing to sell to that particular family.” He looked at Selene, his wide bright smile back in place. “It’s a crazy kind of feud where no one is sure who the real enemy is.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“I was surprised when Barkley bought it and hired me and the Sanders on. He really didn’t want it from what I understand, but he seems to enjoy having it now.”
Selene walked to the well chewing on his last statement. A musty sickly smell wafted up gently from the dark recesses.
“Why wouldn’t he want it? I was under the assumption that it was his idea. He seemed really proud when he talked about all the renovation work.”
“I heard, but don’t quote me on it, please, that Sarah was the one so gung ho to have it.”
“Sarah,” Selene said, flatly.
“Yeah.” MJ came up behind her and peeked into the well.
“Is there still water down there?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied, eyes straining into the dark space.
“Has Barkley ever been out here?”
“No. I kind of keep this place to myself, but the other servants know about it.” He laughed embarrassedly. “It was kind of a gossip topic for us for a while. You know, end of the feud finally. The Sanders knew about the rumors. They grew up around here like I did. Plus, rumor has it that the boy who was hung here was actually a mixed child. That he belonged to the man. Some say all of her kids belonged to him.” He shrugged. “I brought Betty out here once.” He looked at her slyly. “I tried to steal a kiss, but she slapped me.”
Selene giggled and play shoved him. “You know she’s too old for you!”
“She’s only about fifty-five now. I’m only fifty. Not so bad. But I was just kidding about the kiss part.” He walked a tight circle with his hands on his hips, taking in the small area with one long sweep of his eyes. “Couldn’t ever figure out why she was so pressed to see it. She’d known about it for nearly three years, then one day, boom, she asked me to bring her out here. I didn’t even think she liked anything but cooking and Barkley.”
“Odd.” Selene agreed. “Someone should clean up back here and make a memorial or something.”
“That would be nice and all, but a place like this should be left alone.” His face was smooth with uncharacteristic soberness.
“Why?”
&n
bsp; He turned his head slowly, his eyes full of deep troublesome things. “Because the dead should be allowed to rest.”
***
Selene had an uneasy feeling that she couldn’t shake. She wanted to attribute it to the horrific story MJ had shared with her, but she didn’t think it was just that. The best way to describe it was a sweater that was unraveling in many places at once. It felt like the threads were separate yet still a part of the whole.
Barkley called her cell phone a little past three.
“Hey, baby, I’ll be done here in about an hour. Are you getting ready for tonight?” he asked happily.
“I will be soon.” She wanted to tell him about where she had been, but didn’t want to dampen his good mood. “How are things going there?”
“Really good. We’re making a lot of head way.”
“Hey, could I use one of your computers?”
“Sure. What do you need it for?”
“I just want to do some research about the history of your house. It kind of interests me.”
“Oh. Sure help yourself. Do me a favor though and use the silver one. The black one has most of my gaming stuff on it.” He hesitated. “I hate to keep bringing her up, but it is kind of a shame Sarah can’t talk to you about the house. She and Lucas knew so much.”
Selene felt her blood quicken. “She and Lucas?”
“Yeah. Hey, look, babe, I need to get back. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”
Selene had to sit down. In two sentences he had told her something possibly damning about Lucas Mitchell and his daughter, and he had declared his love for her. It had been almost boyish, saying it just before he hung up, not giving her a second to respond.
Selene put her thumb in her mouth and bit gently, a smile curving behind it.
He loves me. He loves ME!
Selene didn’t waste a moment and went straight to the library. She opened the silver computer and waited impatiently for it to boot up and connect to the Wi-Fi. She was surprised Barkley hadn’t taken one or both computers with him, but then she remembered that something was sent to Tim Stevens and the unknown people before he had gone to bed the night before. She blushed when she thought of the night before. She hoped he would feel equally romantic this evening as well.
She wasn’t sure how much she would be able to get offline, considering the length of history she needed to research. She guiltily looked through the top center drawer of Barkley’s desk to find a piece of mail with the physical address. After thirty minutes of dead ends, she finally found what she was looking for. The county website, one she had overlooked earlier in her search, offered a detailed history of the home and landowners.
Betty entered the library, a glass of iced tea in her hand.
“There you are.” She smiled. “I made some tea. Would you like some?”
“Yes, thank you.” Selene smiled in return.
Betty glanced at the open computer, her smile faltering.
“Does Barkley know you are using his computer?”
Selene leaned back in the chair. “He called earlier. I asked permission.”
“Busy catching up on emails?” she asked, attempting to peek at the computer screen.
“Actually, I’m researching the history of the house.”
“What on earth for?”
“Just curious.” Selene kept her voice neutral. “A home this old is bound to have a colorful history, don’t you think?”
Betty shrugged indifferently, moving away from the desk. “I suppose. Seems like a boring endeavor to me.” She turned halfway to the door. “I’ll have your tea in a jiffy.”
Selene watched her leave, taking note that she had left the library doors open. Betty’s protectiveness for Barkley was becoming even more evident. It didn’t help Selene’s uneasiness in light of the things MJ had told and shown her.
Selene pulled a pad of paper from Barkley’s desk and began taking notes. She opened another tab on a hunch and simultaneously began a search of marriage, births, and deaths.
Betty returned almost thirty minutes later, a glass of iced tea as promised and a warm piece of the bread Selene had seen earlier, with a glaze of some sort on top. She left the tea on a coaster at the edge of the desk beside the cake, giving Selene and the computer another worried glance, before leaving as silently as she had come.
It took Selene a bit longer than she had hoped, but she was able to begin piecing together the home’s history.
The original home was built in 1851, the owner, a man named Charles Lyle Taylor. Charles married Gladys Mary McCall the same year and the year after that they had a daughter named Victoria Francis Taylor. A list of stillborn deaths followed for the Taylors until the final one took Gladys from the earth in 1861.
Selene racked her brain, but finally gave up and looked up the years of the Civil War. It looked like Gladys died the year the war began. Records indicated the home was a tobacco plantation, but the only indicator that Charles Taylor was not weathering the war very well was a deed of sale for fifteen acres in the northern part of the property.
The next owner for the land and home was listed as Victoria Francis Taylor. Selene frowned as she jumped between now multiple tabs trying to piece together Victoria’s past. She finally found records, as well as an old newspaper article, telling of how a woman had beat the odds and reopened her childhood home. No longer a tobacco plantation but instead she had opted to try corn and wheat.
Selene thought perhaps she had become an old maid, but found a marriage record. It showed she had married one Thomas Franklin Mitchell in 1881. They had a son and a daughter. Thomas Franklin Mitchell the second born in 1883 and Francis Lenore Mitchell born in 1884.
Selene’s hands froze. Mitchell. She swallowed. It had to just be coincidence. It just had to be. She reluctantly began typing again.
The home and land obviously was bequeathed to Thomas, who married his second cousin, Jenny Marie Mitchell. They also did not have a large family. A son, Samuel Maximillian Mitchell was born in 1904. Samuel took ownership of the house at the young age of seventeen after his mother and father were killed in an automobile accident.
Samuel’s marriage record could not be found, and there didn’t seem to be record of him having any children at first glance. After some more careful digging, Selene was able to find a birth record for a boy born to Samuel and a woman named Sophia Mitchell. The only thing she could figure was that Samuel had married her overseas for some reason. The son was born in 1928; his name Reuben Maximillian Mitchell.
These people and their repeat names.
There was another deed change in 1951. Samuel Mitchell had died of cancer and the home went to one Ruth Taylor.
Selene sat back and rubbed her face. Ruth Taylor. Maybe MJ was wrong. It sounded like Samuel left it to a family member. A great grandparent would have been a Taylor after all. But where had Sophia and Reuben gone? Plus, Samuel wasn’t exactly an old man like MJ’s story, but maybe the story had evolved over the years, people only remembering an old man because Samuel’s body was being ravaged by cancer.
Selene stopped rubbing her face and peeked through her fingers, an old history lesson coming to mind. Many slaves were given their master’s last names. The Taylors would have had slaves to work a plantation of that original size.
A light came on in the library. Barkley leaned into the room, his tie askew.
“Hey, I thought you were going to be ready.” His look of disappointment stabbed at Selene.
“I’m so sorry, Barkley!” she said, quickly bookmarking all of the tabs, and cutting the computer off. She ripped off the pages used on the notepad and folded them into a square, before she came around the edge of the desk and marched to the door. “I became engrossed with the research.”
He laid a hand to her forehead. “Are you feeling alright? You look pale.”
Selene kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Yes, just hungry, I think. It’s made me a bit dizzy.”
“Get dressed then!” He laughed an
d swatted at her behind.
***
The restaurant Barkley had chosen was an Italian place called Gordo’s back in the town he had just left.
“You’re going to be exhausted from the driving.”
“No, it’s fine.” But Selene could see that he was tired. She made a promise to herself that she would fend off all romantic gestures once they were back and would let him get a good night’s sleep.
The restaurant sat near the banks of a rocky river, and Barkley had reserved them a table that afforded a descent view of the water.
“I wish we could have come earlier, the daylight is almost gone.”
“It’s fine.” Selene assured him. “There’s plenty to look at inside.” The restaurant décor was fabulously done up in the red, green, and white colors of the Italian flag. The tables were rustic as well as the floor, but it was all vibrant color everywhere else.
“Are the owners actually Italian?”
“They are. The man for sure. His wife might be from Spain, but that’s just a hunch.”
“Why is it a hunch?”
“I heard her speaking Spanish once.”
“Oh.” Selene laughed.
Barkley and Selene talked about his day as they ate their way through a fried calamari appetizer, and through the main courses of Fettuccini Alfredo with salad and melt in your mouth garlic knots. Selene wanted to eat more, but her appetite seemed to be waning the more she actually tried to eat. Her stomach crampy. She wouldn’t burden Barkley with it. The nausea and cramps were sure to pass.
“You were right, this place is really good,” Selene commented as the waitress came to clear the dirty dishes.
“Dessert?” Barkley asked, reaching for the small dessert menu.
“Do you have Tiramisu?”
The waitress nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll have that, but bring a to-go box just in case.” She hoped she could eat at least a little, it was her favorite dessert.
“Sounds good. Bring two, please.” Barkley turned his attention back to Selene. “So, what fascinating facts did you discover about my second home?”
