Whispers Beyond the Veil

by Jessica Estevao

  “I’ll need a description of the man you saw. But first, I need to attend to this young lady.” Yancey slipped his hands beneath the girl’s head and turned it slightly, looking for blood or a bump. Her eyes fluttered a bit but did not stay open. He scooped her up and stood. The crowd parted and watched him as he strode up Old Orchard Street toward the new police station housed in the first floor of the Odd Fellows Hall.

  • • •

  Someone was draping something cool and moist across my forehead. A spot on the back of my head throbbed dully. I winced when I reached up to feel a small lump I couldn’t remember acquiring. At first my thoughts were jumbled and came in images. Then, as the pictures in my mind of the train, of Johnny, of my hasty departure from my father sorted themselves into proper order I remembered my predicament. I creaked open one eye and then the other.

  My worst fears appeared realized. A man wearing a police uniform sat opposite me, staring directly into my eyes. My heart beat so fast I was certain he would hear it as he leaned forward to adjust the cloth. I could not fathom how the police could possibly have caught up with me so quickly. I wouldn’t put it past Father to have alerted them to the possibility of my arrival.

  “You seem to have gotten yourself into some difficulty. Do you know where you are?” he asked.

  “Last I knew I was in Old Orchard, Maine.” I offered the gray-eyed policeman a weak smile. My instincts told me to play the part of the damsel in distress and to see where it led. There was no sense in giving up until forced to do so.

  “You still are. A little while ago I brought you to the police station. I’m Officer Warren Yancey. Are you feeling well enough to tell me about the incident?”

  “Other than a bit of a headache, I feel fine, thank you. However, I am not sure which incident you mean.” I removed the cloth from my brow and handed it to him, hoping to gain a moment to gather my thoughts. Life in the medicine show had trained me to avoid and distrust officers of the law, as we are so often on opposite sides of it. Even without the harrowing events of the previous hours, awaking to find myself in the company of the police rattled me good and proper.

  “According to witnesses, you were accosted near the train station by a man determined to relieve you of your purse.” It appeared my visit to the police station was wholly unconnected to Johnny. My relief was so profound I felt myself becoming faint once more. I sagged back against the chair and shut my eyes.

  “I meant to cause no distress. Please, take your time.” He leaned away from me and settled back in his chair. I took the opportunity to decide on a story. I marshaled my thoughts to the pickpocket.

  “I’m happy to tell you what I remember. I left the train station and had gone no further than a few steps when I felt tugging on my purse. I turned and saw a man, somewhere around thirty years old, trying his best to rob me.”

  “A witness stated that you gave a full measure of resistance.”

  “The purse happens to be my favorite.” Not to mention it contained the entirety of my worldly goods. I looked down, hoping to see my purse sitting in my lap, but found it empty.

  “So you raised your parasol and commenced beating him about the head with it?”

  “What else could I do?”

  “Did he seem surprised by your forceful reaction?”

  “He did. He released his grip on my purse so abruptly I keeled right over and cracked my head against something hard. I do hope I didn’t end up losing it anyway.”

  “After witnessing your willingness to protect it, I believe any spectators would have been too frightened to try to snatch it from you even while you were rendered senseless.” Officer Yancey deposited my satiny bag into my hand. “Could you identify this man if asked at a later date to do so?” After years of reading crowds in the show, I had an eye for faces. Even without any special experience, the man would be easy enough to recognize. It’s hard to forget a man sporting two gold front teeth. However, I wanted nothing to do with the police and saw no reason to continue my involvement. After all, as I had not lost my purse I needn’t aid the authorities in its recovery.

  “Everything happened so quickly I’m not sure I could. Although it might improve my memory if I were allowed to thrash any suspects with my parasol once more.” The policeman smiled and I felt a little safer, for the moment at least.

  “I would like to give such a man a good thrashing myself although I doubt my weapon of choice would be a parasol. I shall need your name and your address in order to contact you if necessary.” He leaned over to a large wooden desk for a notebook and a pencil.

  “My name is Ruby Proulx.” The truth felt sticky on my tongue. Father and I never used our real names in the show, hardly even with each other. We had used so many false names my real one felt rusty with disuse. As a reminder to myself of my intention to go straight I had decided during my long train journey to use the name my mother had given me. If I had known the first person I would speak it to would be a policeman I might have been tempted to hold off on my rehabilitation.

  “And your address?”

  “I’m not certain of my address.” I once again felt the gnawing concern that had accompanied me on the journey from New Brunswick to Maine. The rashness of my journey occurred to me once more. In the cold light of the police station I felt foolish for fleeing from the life I knew with nothing but a photograph tucked into a letter sent to my mother twenty years earlier.

  “It needn’t be the one for a hotel here in Old Orchard. I shall need a permanent address as well.”

  “I haven’t one of those, either. I’m here in search of someone but I am uncertain as to her exact address.”

  “If she’s a full-time resident of long standing I expect I can help you to locate her. What’s her name?”

  “Honoria Belden.”

  “Of the Hotel Belden?” Officer Yancey’s eyebrows shot upward, then scrunched back down as he squinted and scrutinized my face.

  “I believe so.”

  “How do you know Miss Belden?”

  “I don’t.” I loosened the ties on my purse and withdrew a much-handled envelope. “This letter and accompanying photograph were amongst my late mother’s things. I believe Honoria Belden is my aunt.” I handed the papers to Officer Yancey and watched as he handled them carefully. He inspected the address on the envelope and then removed its contents. He read aloud from the card enclosing the photograph.

  “‘I am certain they have softened. Please come home. Your devoted sister, Honoria.’”

  “I knew you reminded me of someone. And not just because of your unorthodox use of a parasol. The family resemblance is marked.” He handed me back my things and I glanced at the photograph again. I had lain on my cot every night for years imagining what the inside of the hotel was like, what surrounded it. But most important, I wondered about the women in the photograph and whether or not I would ever meet Honoria.

  “Is Miss Belden expecting you?”

  “I would be very surprised if she were.” I felt my stomach lurch with nervousness. If Honoria refused me I would need to call on all my skills to keep body and soul together. The purchase of the train ticket had eroded my savings. I doubted I had enough money left for more than a single night’s stay in a hotel and certainly nothing left over for food.

  “Then I’d say both of you are in for quite a surprise.” Officer Yancey seemed amused by something, and I must confess it left me with an even greater sense of unease than before. What about a hotel was cause for such a knowing smile? “As soon as you are feeling able I will take you to her myself. It is but a short walk from here.”

  • • •

  With my hat pressing uncomfortably against the bump on my head, we set out for the Hotel Belden and whatever might await me there. The sun blazed hot above us as we made our way downhill and toward the ocean. Seagulls circled daringly, one even snatching a bit of food right ou
t of a small boy’s hands.

  “Is this your first visit to Old Orchard?” Officer Yancey asked.

  “Yes, as well as my first visit to the ocean. I was determined to make straight for the beach to see it but didn’t manage to get there before I met the pickpocket.” Officer Yancey proffered his arm.

  “If you look straight ahead you just glimpse a slice of the water.” There lay a sliver of it in front of me, glittering and deeply blue. I felt a tugging in my heart as if something I hadn’t realized I wanted was suddenly offered to me. Like I had been hungry but had no notion of it until I had taken a bite of food.

  “Just ahead is one of our newest hotels, the Alberta House.” I followed his pointing finger to an enormous four-story wooden building with a wide porch and a central tower. As accustomed as I was to large crowds and a carnival atmosphere, my experiences were limited to tents and makeshift stages. Here hotels the size of entire blocks, photographic studios, and livery stables lined the street. People swarmed in and out of carriages and restaurants. Young men swooped past on bicycles. The salt-scented breeze carried sounds of laughter up to us from the shore.

  “I was imagining the view from that tower when your welcoming committee grabbed my purse.”

  “The view from there certainly is something worth seeing. But wait until you overlook Saco Bay from the veranda at the Belden.”

  “How can all this be justified?” Everywhere I looked crowds streamed and swelled. Another train pulled into the station as we approached and dozens more people alighted.

  “The Old Orchard Pier Company is accountable for the current influx. This town has been a popular tourist destination for decades but with the construction of the pier, interest has reached a fever pitch.”

  “Is that it up ahead?” I asked. Stretching in front of us was a partially completed steel structure.

  “It is. When it opens in a few weeks it will be the world’s longest pleasure pier. They say it is an engineering marvel but I’m reserving judgment until it’s made it through a few nor’easters.”

  “How long is it?”

  “Approximately eighteen hundred feet, or just over a third of a mile long. The builders have even planned a miniature train to carry dancers to the ballroom at the end to spare the ladies’ feet.”

  “How extraordinary.”

  “You’ve picked quite the time to visit. Every hotel room has had their reservations completely booked for months.” I hadn’t considered there might be no room for me. I only hoped there would be some way for my aunt to squeeze me in somewhere.

  “You shouldn’t worry though. I’m certain Miss Belden will find room for you. After all, you’re family.”

  “You seem very sure. Are you well acquainted with my aunt?” Just saying the words “my aunt” felt strange, like I was speaking a foreign tongue. There had only ever been “my father.” Anything else felt awkward on my lips.

  “Everyone in Old Orchard is acquainted with Honoria Belden, or at least with her reputation.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Officer Yancey more than made up for the attempted purse snatching. His enthusiasm for Old Orchard made him seem more like a small boy than a policeman. All along our walk down Grand Avenue he pointed out the merits and histories of each hotel and eatery we passed. When I commented on the depth and breadth of his knowledge he dismissed the compliment, saying he had lived in town all his life. Then, all at once he stopped and pointed to a white clapboard–covered building.

  “Here we are. This is the Hotel Belden.” While it was not so large as many of the magnificent hotels we had passed, like the Sea Shore House or the imposing Old Orchard House, with its grounds running from the crest of the hill all the way down to the sea, I recognized it immediately from the photograph. Turrets, gingerbread railings, bay windows, and window boxes spilling over with pinks and forget-me-nots bedecked the outside of the building. At the top of the house ran an observation platform that must look out over the sea.

  “It’s even lovelier than I had imagined it,” I said. Roses scrambled along the foundation, flourishing lavender sprawled along the walkway. Officer Yancey steered me up the porch steps to the door. He held it open for me and I felt a rush of nerves akin to stage fright. I assured myself it was a natural response. This was certain to be the most important performance of my twenty years. Certainly it mattered more than convincing yokels and rubes of the merits of Running Bear’s Miracle Elixir.

  Officer Yancey stepped in front of me, approached the long oak reception desk, and tapped firmly on the bell. I could feel myself holding my breath as I waited to see who would appear to receive me. I forced myself to silently exhale, chiding myself for hiding behind a policeman. I peeked around his back just as a slim blond man emerged from a room behind the counter.

  “Hello, Ben. I’ve brought a visitor for Miss Belden,” Yancey said. “She’s a personal visitor, not a hotel guest. Is Miss Belden in?” The man looked me up and down slowly with the palest blue eyes I had ever seen. In the medicine show I had suffered a generous share of unwanted appraisal of my person by strange men. It was almost always unpleasant and invariably easy to interpret. This gaze was far more intense and I had no idea whatsoever what to make of it. He silently nodded at Yancey and then motioned us to follow.

  The man strode so smoothly and silently ahead of us it was as though he were gliding down the long hallway rather than walking. He led us past sitting rooms and a library filled with books. Halting, he pointed to a midnight blue portiere hanging in a doorway at the very end of the wide corridor. He waved his hand to show I should enter. When Yancey made to follow me, Ben laid a restraining hand on his arm. Yancey shrugged and let loose another smile that suggested I was in for a surprise.

  I slowly slipped between the brocade folds of the portiere and found myself in a room shrouded in darkness. Heavy drapes hung at the windows and blocked out any sunlight. A solitary candle flickered on a table at the center of the room. In its wavering glow I made out four shapes seated around the table. It appeared their eyes were closed, their hands linked.

  “I feel a presence. Has a spirit come to us from the other side?” A deep, rich woman’s voice whispered out from the gloom. I squinted at the table, hoping to get a better look at the speaker. I stepped toward the table and as I did so the woman opened her eyes. “Someone has joined us. Come closer, if you are able.” Her voice came out even more quietly. I stepped into the edge of the candle glow’s reach, my heart pounding almost as hard as it had when I found myself awakening in the presence of a policeman.

  Each of the people seated around the table opened their eyes and turned in my direction, their mouths circles of surprise. It was a look I’d seen almost daily at the medicine show when Father had orchestrated perfectly rehearsed miracles in front of the crowds.

  “Delphinia?” The woman’s voice cracked and she dropped the hands on either side of her as she rose to her feet. “I hardly dared hope you would come.”

  “I think there’s been some sort of a mistake ma’am,” I said. The woman lurched against the table, and a man jumped to his feet to offer her a steadying arm. The others leaned forward in their seats to get a better look at me. “I’m looking for my aunt, Honoria Belden.” With more speed than I would have expected from a woman of her formidable size, the lady appeared at my side and wrapped her fingers firmly around my upper arms.

  “George, the drapes,” she said. A figure moved to the curtains and yanked them open, bathing the room in light. Standing there with a crowd of only four strangers I found myself at a loss for words. The woman grasping me did not. “Let me get a good look at you.” She held me at arm’s length and searched my face. I was familiar with scrutiny and skepticism during my tarot card readings and performances at the show and I expected to see it here, too. After all, what proof did I have that I was who I claimed to be? Goaded by the fear of sleeping on the beach with a rumbling bell
y I found my voice.

  “My mother’s name was Delphinia. At least that’s what my father said. Mine is Ruby Proulx.”

  “I dreamt she’d come. Haven’t I always said so, George?” The woman gripped me with even more enthusiasm.

  “You did indeed.” The man near the window took a step closer as if to assure himself of what he was seeing.

  “My dear friends, please excuse us.” She turned to the others. “This young lady and I have so much to discuss.”

  • • •

  With that, the woman I assumed must be Honoria swept me out through the portiere and down the hall. Officer Yancey was nowhere to be seen but Ben stood silently, as if awaiting a verdict, in the passageway just outside the doorway. Honoria stopped in front of him.

  “Ben, I am certain you recognized Ruby on sight,” she said. He nodded wordlessly. “Then you will, of course, understand that unless a mermaid appears at the front desk requesting a room you should not allow anyone to disturb us.” She gave him a hurried nod, then drew me by the arm toward a wide and curving staircase. Light streamed in from a window above. When we reached the landing I could not contain a gasp. A window spanning two stories gave a view of the beach and beyond it the ocean.

  “It’s astonishing,” I said, looking out across the flashing water.

  “Have you never seen it before?” Honoria asked, pausing to allow me to admire the view.

  “Only a glimpse up near the pier as I made my way here.” I had longed to see it, dreamt of it, even. But every time the medicine show traveled toward the coast, Father’s feet had begun to itch and he sought out a new group of performers to join, invariably farther inland.

  “Then this is a day of wonders for us both.” She tucked my hand under her arm and led me to a room at the far side of the second floor. She eased herself onto a violet-colored settee and patted the space beside her. “I shall, of course, wish to know how you came to be here, but what I really desire to know is what is your gift?” I felt a total fool and utterly without manners of any kind. In my haste and reduced financial circumstances I had not given the slightest thought to a present for my hostess.