The Haunting of Lovesong House

by G. F. Frost

  The small talk didn’t take Massey’s mind off the events of the day. She still had Joseph and Marie on her mind, and she couldn’t shake the vision of that shadow in the window. Theo joked with her through the evening and lightened the mood as usual. When he turned on his favorite television programs, Massey walked into his study and began to type on his computer.

  She tried pulling up everything she could find on the Duseau family, but not much more could be found. She looked through the pages and pages of notes she had brought home. There were census records and a few notable achievements and events, but not much more. Before giving up, Massey decided to key in “Lovesong House, Louisiana” and to her amazement a long list of sites emerged.

  Lovesong House often appeared under Haunted Houses of the South, Louisiana Haunts, and Louisiana Ghost Stories. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. It seemed that there was an old tale about a light in the old family cemetery, a singing lady, and a dark floating figure. Massey read for a few minutes more and slammed down the top of the laptop. She shuddered.

  Haunted? That’s all I need. I certainly won’t let Theo in on that. He’s got enough to deal with.

  “Huh, we don’t believe in that craziness anyway,” she whispered as she walked into the parlor and sat down on the sofa beside her husband.

  “Did you say something, sweetie?” Theo asked, never taking his eyes off the television.

  Massey shook her head. She decided to go take a long bath since Theo’s news programs didn’t interest her tonight. If it isn’t news or stocks, it’s bad reality shows. Massey tolerated them to spend more time with Theo, but she hated every one of them. Sometimes she’d get a good laugh over his responses and his loud laughter, but overall, she didn’t enjoy them at all. A good mystery or historical show is what interested Massey. Maybe that’s why her head was where it was, she thought.

  The long warm bath felt great tonight. Nothing relaxes you and puts you in the right frame of mind like a long, hot soak in the tub. She wrapped her hair in a towel and threw on her favorite pink robe. Reaching for the mirror above the bathroom sink, she wiped the fog from the glass. She stared into the mirror and reviewed all the little lines on her face. She wished she were young again. As Massey smeared the moisturizer across her face, she thought of Marie.

  She died so young, she thought.

  Rubbing the moisturizer into her hands, Massey walked towards the bedroom door. Without thinking, she glanced into the bedroom mirror. Only her reflection stared back at her. With her hair still in the towel, she made her way back downstairs and into Theo’s study. The light on the computer was glowing under its lid. She had not turned it off before leaving it earlier. Sitting down at the desk, she pulled the chair close and raised the top of the laptop. For some reason, Massey had to try to find out more. She read and read until Theo called for her to join him for bed, but she could not find what she wanted. Actually, she didn’t know what she wanted, but she felt compelled to search anyway.

  Chapter Five

  Again the dreams! This night had been the worst. As soon as Massey closed her eyes and dozed off into that lovely land of sleep, they came. The gauzy veil appeared and then the figures. Even in her dream state, she felt the sadness. The couple approached the veil again and closer they came to her. She could not move or turn her head from the figures. They slowly floated forward, pressing near her. They pushed into the veil, closer and closer, the two bodies, two faces. Slowly, a small white hand reached out to her, its fingers frail and tiny. It drew closer toward her.

  “Ahhhhhhhh!” Massey screamed.

  She awoke to Theo rubbing her hair. He was saying something about a bad dream. Massey trembled. The sweat was pouring from her head. Sitting up on the side of the bed, she noticed something in the mirror. She glanced down at Theo and realized he had fallen back to sleep. Sliding from the bed, she moved closer to the mirror. Something was there. As she moved even closer, again she made out the image of the woman.

  “Theo! Theo, wake up!” Massey shouted.

  Theo jumped up and out of bed quickly.

  “What, what, what?”

  “In the mirror, she’s there!” Massey pointed to the long dark mirror.

  Theo walked to the mirror and peered into it.

  “There’s nothing there, honey. It’s just a bad dream. It’s a dream, baby. Come to bed,” he said soothingly as he yawned.

  Massey looked again at the mirror. She walked to the wall and flipped on the light switch. Theo shielded his eyes from the brightness. Running to the mirror, she looked again, nothing. She stood there looking and searching over the glass until she heard Theo’s pleas to turn off the light. The bed felt warm and safe when she crawled back into it.

  Theo was already lightly snoring, but Massey could not close her eyes. Throughout the night, she checked the mirror for the image, but it never came again. She lay still on the bed until the sun showed itself the next morning. With the rising of the sun, she closed her eyes and slept. It was a dreamless sleep this time, thank goodness.

  * * * *

  Knocking at the front door forced Massey to get out of bed. She didn’t understand who would be calling at this time of morning; but then she didn’t realize it was almost noon. Massey ran to the bedroom window and looked out. She recognized the dark blue ford sedan. It was Father Patrick. Throwing on her robe, she ran down the stairs to greet him.

  “Oh, Father, I’m so sorry. Come in.” She sounded out of breath.

  Father Patrick smiled his handsome smile and walked into the foyer.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Massey, but I had to go by to see Mrs. White, and I thought I’d drop by,” he said as he glanced down at the fuzzy pink robe.

  Massey nodded and invited the priest into her kitchen for coffee. Of course, he was pleased to follow. She apologized again to Father Patrick and explained that she had not been sleeping well lately. He nodded slightly as he sipped the hot brew.

  “Father, do you know if any of the Duseau family is still alive and if they are living around here?” Massey asked.

  “Well, let’s see. There is Madeleine Deblieau. I believe she was a Duseau. She’s not in the church. I think she’s Methodist now, but I see her from time to time in Morgan’s Grocery. She’s a nice little lady, very sophisticated,” he said, stirring sugar into his second cup.

  “Do you think she’d know much about the house’s history?” Massey blurted.

  “I’m not sure, but you could ask her.”

  After thirty minutes or so of gossip and small talk, Father Patrick thanked Massey for the coffee and the visit, and then was on his way.

  She watched as Father walked to his car. He turned, giving a smile and wave as he opened the car door. He was a terribly handsome man with dark hair and bright blue, inviting eyes. Massey was taken aback the first time she attended Mass at the ancient little church and saw him appear on the podium. He was the kind of handsome that is usually only seen in magazines or in movies. His dark hair and darker lashes gave him what she considered a “dreamy” look. She remembered thinking to herself, Man, if he weren’t a priest and I were a little younger.

  Massey shook her head as he drove away, her thoughts making a tinge of guilt pass over her. She had to get back to the search. She didn’t waste a minute. Running upstairs, she threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, brushed her hair and teeth, and went into the study to look for the phone book. Luckily, there weren’t many Deblieaus in the book, so Massey began to call. The first family was not Madeleine’s, but by chance, Madeleine herself answered the second call. Massey didn’t waste any time. After introducing herself, she began to ask Madeleine questions.

  The conversation was friendly enough, but not long. Madeleine had never lived in the house herself, but she knew a few stories about the house. All her life, she had heard only rumors about the haunted cemetery, and the house being haunted. She did, however, know a very old lady whose family had worked in the house for years, and they knew much m
ore.

  “If you call Miss Anne Marie Purdue down the road, I’m just sure she’ll talk to you, dear. She’s old as the hills, but smart, and she has a memory like an elephant,” Madeleine said. Then, she wished Massey well and said goodbye.

  Massey did not hesitate. Grabbing the phone book once more, she looked up Mrs. Purdue. The phone rang and rang. Finally, she heard an old crackly voice on the other end.

  “Hello there,” she said.

  “Hello, Mrs. Purdue?” Massey asked.

  “Who is callin’?” the voice inquired.

  “I am Massey Fontenot from down the road. I live in the old Duseau house. Do you have any time for a visit this week?”

  “Why always, honey. I’m ninety-three years old, and I’ve got nothing but time on my hands now. You feel free to come for a visit any time. Is there something I can do for you?” she asked curiously.

  “Well, actually, I’m interested in finding out more about the Duseaus and my home, and I heard you can help. Is that right?”

  “Oh, yes, dear. I know a lot about that house and those people who lived there. I will try to tell you everything I can remember.”

  Massey asked to come by the following day and thanked Mrs. Purdue for her trouble. She was excited about the visit. Maybe now she could get down to the bottom of the mystery. Maybe Mrs. Purdue could tell her what really happened to Joseph and Marie.

  Telling Theo about her planned visit was probably not a good thing. He remained quiet during dinner and didn’t say much during the rest of the evening. Massey knew that he was concerned about her newfound interest. Maybe obsession would be the more appropriate word for it. Yes, she had become obsessed. It may have been the episode with the mirror, but he was quiet that evening.

  When Massey was taking her bath before bed, Theo came in and sat on the side of the tub. She knew he had something to say. He reached for the washcloth, poured the lavender gel into the cloth, and began to wash Massey’s back.

  “You know, honey, I am starting to worry about the nightmares. You were seeing things and that’s just not like you. Is there something bothering you that we need to talk about?”

  Massey turned her head towards her sweet husband.

  “I guess it’s a middle-age thing,” she replied. “I’m having crazy dreams and night sweats. Isn’t that part of it?” she asked, not wanting to tell him what she really thought.

  Theo leaned down and kissed her. He gave her one of his famous smiles and dropped the soaking cloth over her head. Massey screamed and threw it at him as he ran laughing out of the room. She laughed loudly.

  “Wish it had hit you in the backside!” she yelled. She could hear him walking down the stairs.

  Leaning back into the warm water, Massey closed her eyes and pictured Joseph and Marie. What were they like? She also thought of her husband, how he treated her, his kind eyes and loving kisses and hugs. She loved the way he called to check on her during the day, the way he loved Sadie, and the uplifting attitude he always showed. He was her rock. He was her constant. She couldn’t imagine loving anyone else. Maybe that’s the kind of love Marie had for Joseph? Massey hoped she would find out more from Mrs. Purdue tomorrow.

  She couldn’t help but check out the old mirror again as she dried her hair with the huge fluffy towel. Again, only her image was there. Massey wondered why she saw the lady in mirror. Was she losing her mind? Was she imagining it? She didn’t like questioning herself.

  The long bath had helped her relax. She felt like a new woman by the time she joined Theo in the parlor. He was sitting in front of his favorite program laughing wildly. Massey plopped down beside him. Theo turned towards her and placing his arm around her, pulled her against him.

  “What in the world were you singing up there?” he asked. “It sounded strange.”

  Massey pulled away from him looking puzzled.

  “I wasn’t singing upstairs,” she said.

  “I heard you, honey. You were singing and singing. I’ve never heard you sing such a song,” Theo replied.

  “It wasn’t me!” Massey snapped.

  Theo looked at his wife and shrugged his shoulders. Shaking his head, he placed his hand on her thigh and patted it.

  “I heard singing for a long while, and it sounded like it was coming from upstairs. Maybe you left the television on,” he said as he picked up the remote.

  Massey rose from the sofa and went into the kitchen. Her head was spinning. That was the third person who had heard a woman singing since they moved in. She washed the dishes and put them away. She had turned off the kitchen light when she noticed a white light out the kitchen window. Walking up to the window, she peered into the night and watched as a smoky light bounced around the old cemetery. She started to call for Theo, but she didn’t.

  The light moved slowly and deliberately around the graves. It was white but smoky like a glowing ball of fog swimming through the air above the tombstones. It floated from one grave to another as if searching. When it reached the back corner of the cemetery, it bobbed and slowly faded away. Massey stepped back from the window and contemplated whether to tell Theo. Considering the earlier conversation, she chose to keep it to herself.

  She decided to go on to bed early that night. She hadn’t slept much the night before. When she reached the top of the stairs, she turned on the lights of the landing. She turned on the bedroom and bathroom lights as well. She didn’t like to think that her house may be haunted, but she was beginning to consider it. For someone who didn’t believe in such things, she was certainly acting like someone who did.

  * * * *

  The dreams this night were different. The veil was gone and the two figures appeared in the distance. Massey could see that it was a man and a woman, but she couldn’t make out their faces. The woman was singing a sweet song. It was unfamiliar, but alluring and almost sad. When Massey attempted to walk closer to the figures, they vanished, and she awoke. She lay in bed covered in sweat, as usual. She did not look at the mirror, but nuzzled closer to Theo and pulled the covers up to her face.

  * * * *

  When morning came, the air was cool and brisk. Massey took her cup of tea with her as she strolled into the yard. The leaves were falling into colorful piles along the drive. Most of the trees on the property seemed colder. They didn’t have the welcoming fullness and rich greenness of the summer. Brown and orange leaves covered the small cemetery with the colors of fall. Massey walked over to it as she sipped the sweet brew. As she approached the two fallen headstones, she thought of the night before and the light. Bending down over Marie’s grave, Massey wiped away the leaves.

  “Are you trying to tell me something, Marie?” she asked.

  She was surprised at herself. Normally, Massey would never have done such a thing. She waited there as if she expected an answer. She heard nothing but the whining fall wind. Reaching down again, she rubbed her hand across the cold marble. The sadness came upon her again. Standing up, she sipped from her cup once more and pulled her robe up around her neck to block the chilly breeze.

  * * * *

  Massey was walking to her car later that morning when Mister Grant, the yardman, drove up.

  “Will you mind cleaning the leaves from the cemetery today, Mister Grant?” she asked.

  “I don’t like going in there, ma’am. I heard there’s haints in there,” he replied.

  “I’ll give you an extra twenty for your help?” Massey smiled as she spoke.

  Mister Grant leaned his head to the side as if he were thinking about it. Then, he nodded.

  “Thank you!” she yelled as she walked to her car.

  Massey was grateful for the navigation system in her vehicle. She couldn’t have found Mrs. Purdue’s house on her own. It was not far from Lovesong House, but it was deep in the woods down graveled roads that wound and curved like a brown snake through the trees. At the end of the dusty road sat a small frame home. The white paint had long since faded, but the yard was raked and neat. Massey wasn�
�t sure where to park, so she pulled near the ramp at the front door. Before she could get out of her car, a young African American girl pushed open the screened door and waved.

  “Hey, come on in!” she said nicely.

  Massey grabbed her notebook and pen off the seat of the car. The lovely young girl introduced herself as Mrs. Purdue’s granddaughter, Amelia. She shook Massey’s hand. Her smile rivaled Theo’s and Sadie’s. Asking Massey to wait on the screened porch, she left and returned pushing her grandmother in a large wheelchair.

  Mrs. Purdue wore a green dress with a scarf tied around her head. She had pale pink lipstick on her lips, and her eyes were the oddest shade of golden brown. For her years, she was still a lovely woman. Massey glanced down at the wheelchair as she reached her hand out to her host.

  “Well, aren’t you pretty,” Mrs. Purdue said as she grabbed Massey’s hand and patted it.

  “Now, sit down and let’s get to know one another,” she said in her old squeaky voice.

  Massey sat facing her in an old rocker that had a cushion in it.

  “I thought we’d sit out here, because there won’t be many more days like this in the next weeks. Now, I’ve hunted up some things that I thought you’d like to see.” Mrs. Purdue pointed to a large cardboard box across the room.

  Massey smiled. After a brief history of herself and her family, Massey began ask Mrs. Purdue what she knew about the Duseaus.

  “Why, I guess I know more than anybody about the Duseau family, dear. My grandmother worked for Mister Duseau in the eighteen hundreds, and then my momma worked for his sister. I’m ninety-three years old, and I spent many a day in that old house. It’s a lovely old place, isn’t it?”

  Massey nodded again.

  “Well, my grandmamma was a very young girl when she went to help keep the house for Mrs. Marie. She said that Mrs. Marie was the greatest and grandest lady in the South. She treated my grandmamma kindly too. My grandmamma helped with everything that went on in that house. They paid her too. Mrs. Marie would throw fine parties and people from New Orleans and Natchez and all over would come. She said they would dance all night. Grandmamma would clean the rooms and help decorate the house, and she’d take care of all Mrs. Marie’s needs. She’d dress her and care for her when she was ill. Why, she even traveled with her when she went to Natchez or even Natchitoches and all the way to Atlanta once. Grandmamma called them ‘sunny days.’