by G. F. Frost
Massey lifted her head. “Father, I’ve tried to think of every rational explanation in the world!” she barked.
“Just let me finish, Massey. Let’s go over each incident one at a time and discuss it. Let’s try to think hard about reasons and answers, then, we will take it to the next level. You know I am bound by an oath to keep all your words to me confidential, so you can rest assured that you can tell me all and everything you think, feel, and know without a worry. Now, let’s start at the beginning,” he said calmly as he pulled a small note pad and pen from his jacket pocket.
“It all started when we moved in this house. It’s all about this house!” Massey replied.
Father Patrick began to make notes on the pad. They went over each incident as thoroughly as Massey could recall. She tried to include every dream and every episode. The priest stopped writing from time to time to listen carefully. After two hours, Massey stopped.
“I think that just about covers it,” she said as she rose to fill his cup again.
“Okay, Massey. I’m going to go back home and pray over this. I want to have the right answers when I come back. I don’t know if I’ll have the right answers, but I will ask for them. We will seek the answers together, and I will see you through this, I promise. I know you have been through an ordeal, real or imagined, and I am going to help you get to the bottom of it.” His voice was soothing and kind.
Massey felt as if he had lifted a huge burden from her. She leaned across the table and kissed Father Patrick’s cheek. He smiled and closed the little note pad placing it and the pen inside his jacket. Carrying his coffee cup to the sink, he reached over and patted Jenkins on the head.
“I’ll call you tomorrow and check on you, Massey, but I want you to do me a favor. I want you to make an appointment with a physician and have a checkup. In the meantime, I’m going to be doing some research and leg work. I’ll be praying every day for you. Hang in there, and never question my trust in you. I know you are not crazy. We’ll figure this out together with God’s help.” He headed for the door.
“Thank you so much, Father. I’ll look forward to talking to you tomorrow, and I’ll call the doctor in the morning even though I know this is something hormones can’t fix. You’ve already helped me more than you’ll ever know,” Massey said gratefully.
She and Jenkins stood on the porch watching the priest drive away. Since it was getting dark, she decided to wait there on the veranda for Theo. It was good to have Jenkins there beside her. She had forgotten how much company a dog brings when you’re alone. Looking down at the big furry pet at her feet, she wondered what sort of sad life he had lived before finding his way to her. She couldn’t imagine. He glanced up at her as if he knew what she was thinking and wagged his tail. Her hand made its way to his head and stayed there stroking him gently between his eyes until Theo arrived.
Chapter Eight
Massey decided not to tell Theo about Father Patrick’s visit. She was keeping a lot from him lately, but she thought it best for now. She stood up and walked onto the steps to greet him as his truck drove up. Theo handed her the bag of food and gave her a huge kiss before turning his attention to Jenkins. After a few kind words and a pat or two, the three of them went into the kitchen to enjoy a good bowl of seafood gumbo. Massey didn’t think it was a good thing to share with Jenkins, so she tossed him a milk bone from the pantry after they finished their meal.
Theo would be leaving at the end of the week for Europe, and Massey knew she would have plenty of time to spend on her investigation. She hoped that there would be no more dreams. She dreaded the thought of having the dreams only to wake to an empty bed, but she understood that nights alone were part of her life as the wife of an oilman. She knew that Theo dreaded the trips just as much as she did, but it was just for a few days.
She didn’t leave Theo’s side that night. She sat with him through all his corny reality shows and laughed with him. She nuzzled close to him during the commercials, and asked him about his work. Theo told her just what he thought would interest her and made sure to avoid anything boring or droll. He always thought of her, and she knew it. Sometimes, she would sit beside him on the sofa and watch him as he laughed or dozed off to sleep, and she would think about how much she loved him and how lucky she was to have him. She never took him for granted. She felt blessed.
That night Massey waited to take her bath until after Theo went up to bed. She thought that it would work better that way. By the time her hair was dry, he was fast asleep. Jenkins looked tired lying on the cold bathroom floor. She knew he was ready to curl up on the pillow she had placed beside her bed. She, herself, was beginning to dread sleep. More accurately, she was dreading the dreams.
It took forever for her to fall asleep that evening. She was going over everything Father Patrick had said to her. She couldn’t help but wonder what he really thought of it all, but he had said all the right things. She would keep her promise to him and get her doctor to check her out that week. If only she could sleep without the dreams. She felt drowsy enough to close her eyes, but before she did, she glanced over at the old mirror. She tried to keep herself from it, but she would do it just the same. Happily, she saw nothing but blackness. Sleep soon followed.
* * * *
Her relief at finding no image in the mirror was short-lived because as soon as she dozed off into a deep slumber, they came once more. The dreams, the figures, the sobbing Marie. Again, they walked to her. Again, they approached her with their sad, dark, and pleading eyes. Again, Marie reached her pale hand out to Massey. This dream was different though, Marie spoke to her.
“Help us, Massey.” Marie’s small southern voice whispered through her sobs.
Massey awoke. She was too frightened to move. She didn’t go to the bathroom to wash her face. She didn’t look into the mirror. She shuddered in utter fear and pulled the covers up to her chin, digging herself as closely under Theo as his body would permit. She didn’t sleep anymore that night. The night went on and on and Massey lay awake waiting for the sun. As before, only the sunlight would let her rest.
* * * *
The ringing of the phone woke Massey. She hadn’t even heard Theo when he left. Rolling over, she noticed Jenkins standing by the bed.
He must be dying to go outside, she thought.
“Hello,” she said sleepily into the phone.
“Massey, hi, it’s Father Patrick. I just wanted to check on you. Were you sleeping?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t sleep much last night again,” Massey answered as she rubbed her eyes.
“I was hoping we could get together after your doctor’s appointment.” Father Patrick said.
“I’m going to call him today. I’ll call you after I see him.”
“Bad dreams again?” he asked softly.
“Uh huh,” she answered.
“I hate to hear that. I was hoping my prayers would start working right away. Sometimes prayers are answered in their own sweet time, but I’m sure it will come.” He sounded confident.
Massey thanked him for the call and hung up. She had to have a cup of tea and call the doctor. It was later in the morning than she had thought. She was surprised when she called the doctor’s office to find out that they could see her that afternoon. Small town conveniences, she thought.
By the time she had gone out with Jenkins and had her tea, it was time to get dressed and go to her appointment. She had called the local doctor’s office when she moved to Lovesong House to see if they took her PPO. Luckily they did, so she was anxious to meet the doctor. She drove into the small town and had no trouble finding the office. There was a main street and a town square around an old lovely courthouse. The old movie theater looked as if it had been closed for years. There were a few restaurants, two grocery stores, a sporting goods store, a feed and seed store, two banks, the doctor’s office, a video rental store, a few salons, and of course a Wal-Mart out on the highway past the town. There were just enough busines
ses to suffice. Anything not found in the little village was just over the bridge in New Orleans. It was quaint and perfect to Massey.
The doctor put her through the basic yearly physical examination and asked a million questions. Massey didn’t offer anything that he didn’t cover. She mentioned the menopause thing, and he handed her a pamphlet. What he lacked in personality, he seemed to make up for in presence. He was getting on up there in age and wore a bow tie and suit under his white jacket. He wore glasses that must have had frames from the fifties. He spoke with a very sophisticated southern drawl that Massey loved. He never smiled until just before he walked out.
“Looks like you’re going to be here a little while, Miss Massey. I’ll get Margaret to call you with your blood work results. I haven’t met your husband, but I’ve heard about you both. You go to church with my daughter, Patricia LeBlanc. I’m not much of a churchgoer since my wife passed. That house you live in is the belle of this area. I used to be friends with one of the Duseau boys who lived there in the fifties, grand old place, grand. My daddy wanted to buy it once for his practice and to have our home upstairs, but the Duseaus wouldn’t sell it to him. By the time they’d all died off and had it up for sale, he was long dead. I couldn’t afford it when I opened my practice. It’s a grand house though and built by an old Louisiana family. You enjoying it there?” He spoke with the most monotone voice.
“Yes, we love it. We are thrilled to have it and feel that we have a responsibility to keep it going. Those old homes need to be kept going,” Massey said as she climbed off the examining table.
The doctor nodded and reached out to shake Massey’s hand. She replied and thanked him.
“See ya, stay well,” he said as he walked out with her file under his arm.
Massey was happy to have a clean bill of health, and couldn’t wait to call Father Patrick. As soon as she got into her car, she phoned him. He seemed to be waiting to hear from her. They decided to get together the day Theo left for his trip overseas. Doctor Wells didn’t seem to find anything that would make her psychotic, so she hoped Father Patrick would take her word for it all now.
The house looked warm and welcoming to her when she drove up the drive. She knew Jenkins would be waiting at the door for her, and he was. She squatted down and hugged him. It felt good to have a good friend meet her at the door. She threw her purse and keys on the foyer table and walked Jenkins out into the yard. She let him do his thing and romp and run while she walked over to the cemetery. She walked all around the graves again. She couldn’t imagine where the baby was buried.
Massey decided to call Father Patrick back to ask him to check the old church records. Maybe they could shed a light some things. As she approached the front door, Jenkins darted past her and directly to his water bowl. She smiled as he lapped up the cool water.
Father Patrick answered the phone himself this time. Dorothy was probably cleaning the church. He agreed to look through some of the old birth and burial records for Massey.
“Thanks, Padre!” Massey said happily. She felt good to have him in on it with her, then static came over the phone.
“What did you say, Massey?” he asked.
Once again the static came, then the low sound of a female voice.
“Help us, Massey,” the voice said but louder than a whisper this time.
“What was that, Massey?” Father Patrick sounded concerned. “Was that you, Massey?” he asked.
“Father, Father, did you hear that? It was her, it was her. Please, tell me you heard it!” Massey yelled.
“I’ll call you back, Massey,” Father Patrick replied as he hung up the phone.
Massey slammed the phone shut. She couldn’t believe it. She could hear it as plain as day.
How could he not have heard it? How? Why is this happening to me?
* * * *
The dreams came again, the same as before. Massey wanted to stay awake all night to avoid them. They didn’t come if she slept during the day. She always fell asleep though. She even tried drinking coffee late at night, but eventually, she would fall asleep. Eventually, the dreams came again.
The day Theo left, Massey felt sad and a bit nervous. She hadn’t stayed there alone since they had moved in. Theo hadn’t had to travel for the last few months since he had just transferred, but now he would begin to travel more. She had to get used to it. At least she had Jenkins. Father Patrick was also just down the road. It would be okay.
It was storming the day Theo flew out. He hated to fly in the rain. Massey said a prayer that he would be safe, and she clung to him after he kissed her goodbye.
“Stay safe, darling. Come home as soon as you can. I am going to miss you more than ever,” Massey said as Theo reached for his suitcase.
He winked at her and gave her a long kiss. Before she knew it, he was driving off into the storm, and Father Patrick was knocking on the door. She was glad to hear the knock. Stormy days were always gloomy to Massey, but stormy days at Lovesong House could be bothersome. She was at the door before his third knock. His blue eyes were glowing under his dripping black locks. Massey smiled and hurried him in out of the storm.
He shook off his jacket and hung it on the hall tree in the foyer. Massey had a pot of coffee and a chocolate cake waiting for him. As he followed her into the kitchen, he reached for Jenkins’ head. He’d obviously decided that he liked the big, scruffy dog. Jenkins wagged his soggy tail. Massey poured the coffee in a huge mug and set a plate of cake on the table. As the priest sat down, Massey began to talk.
“Father, have you found anything helpful?” she asked anxiously.
“Well, most of what I’ve found, you already know. The Church records show that the baby of Joseph and Marie died a few weeks after birth. The notes just said that it was born small and sickly and that the parish priest sent for two nuns to come from Saint Urseline’s in New Orleans to help care for it. They brought two young girls with them to attend to Marie and the baby, but all went back the following day. The family charged a house worker with caring for the ill mother and child along with a prominent physician from New Orleans, but they couldn’t save the baby. The parish priest attended the rites for the baby’s funeral, but it was not buried in the Church cemetery, so it had to have been interred somewhere else. I would guess here at the family cemetery because it had been consecrated years earlier.” Father Patrick pulled his small note pad out of his shirt pocket.
“I can’t find the grave. Is there any way we can find out for sure?” Massey asked.
“I doubt it. Records were not as organized then as today. I had to pull a lot of old church records to find what I found,” he said as he put on his glasses.
“When I called you the other day, did you hear her, Father?” Massey asked.
Father Patrick pulled the glasses from his face and looked down.
“Let’s talk about some other things first, Massey,” he said somberly.
Massey looked at him curiously and placed her teacup on the table. She didn’t want to go over everything again. What was the point? She wanted him to believe her and help her. She began to feel that he was going to avoid discussing the uncomfortable parts of it all. She looked at him as if he were a stranger. He felt her disappointment.
“Now, I’m here to help, Massey. Just humor me for a bit,” he said with a smile
Massey nodded reluctantly.
He began by bringing up the nightmares and the possibility that they were just that, nightmares. He speculated that the figures in the mirror were just reflections and that the light in the cemetery was car lights reflecting off the trees. He gave an explanation for each and every incident that Massey had told him about. He glanced down at his notes from time to time to remind him of what to say. He didn’t sound as if he believed any of it though.
“What about the singing when no one is in the house? I’ve heard it, Theo’s heard it, hell, even Sadie heard it. It’s not a radio or a television, and we’re not close enough to hear our neighbors
even if they screamed their lungs out. What about the voice in the phone?” Massey sounded angry.
“Okay, but we’ve got to do this. We’ve got to think it through. Not all things are supernatural. I’m a priest. I believe in the unbelievable, but some things are explainable. Some things are just sounds and reflections or bad dreams. They don’t have to mean or be anything.”
“You heard her. I can tell. You don’t believe that bullshit anymore than I do. I can tell you heard her voice on the phone. Tell me. Why won’t you tell me?” Massey asked defiantly.
“I don’t know what I heard, Massey. Sometimes cell phones can pick up conversations of others. They can be heard on others phones, I mean,” he said nervously.
“This is not the nineties! Cell phones don’t pick up other phones’ conversations. You tell me you didn’t hear a woman’s voice when I spoke to you. You tell me!” Massey demanded.
“I did hear something. I’m not saying I didn’t. I just cannot say what I heard,” he answered.
“You know there’s something going on here, don’t you? You just don’t want to get involved. You know the church would not like it. You’re supposed to be helping me. Are you my priest or not?”
“Alright, what do you want me to do?” Father Patrick asked.
“I want you to say that there is a possibility that what is happening to me is real. That’s what I want!”
Father Patrick stood up and began to walk around the kitchen. He paced back and forth looking out of the windows as in deep contemplation. He rubbed his hands together and looked at Massey. He acted as though he wasn’t sure what to say to her. Slowly, he walked back to the chair and sat down at the table.
“I am supposed to do what is right. I’m supposed to offer you wise and rational advice. I am not supposed to encourage anything that may be detrimental to you. You are asking me to defy what the Church advises and tell you that I think your house is haunted, that I think two dead people are coming to you in your dreams and floating above graves in your yard and talking to you on your cell phone? Does that sound rational to you? Would I be doing the right thing by supporting you in this?” Father Patrick looked into Massey’s eyes.
