The Haunting of Lovesong House

by G. F. Frost

“Come on, Jenkins. Let’s spare a squirrel today,” she said as she grabbed his collar and pulled him away from the tree. Jenkins resisted.

  “Want a treat? Treat?” Massey asked.

  Jenkins bounded from the tree and up onto the veranda. Nothing trumped a treat. Not even a squirrel. He scratched at the door as Massey opened it. He made her howl with laughter as he ran into the kitchen and slid on his butt into the pantry. Jenkins looked goofy as he regained his footing. Massey grabbed her belly and laughed again.

  “Here’s your treat, you awful animal!” she said as he grabbed the treat from her fingers.

  After lunch, Massey looked for the journal that she had gotten from a friend last Christmas. It was bound in leather and had the word “journal” punched into the leather front. It was nice. She thought that it would be the perfect place to record her dreams.

  After raffling through a few boxes in the pantry, she found it. I was just the right size to set on the nightstand beside her bed. She’d keep a good pen with it and jot notes of her dreams in it when she awoke from them. She wondered if the dreams would still come. She figured they would. Either way, she would be prepared.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, she began to write down all the memories of her dream from the night before. They were still so vivid. She was thinking how odd it felt to stand unmoving watching the lives of someone unfold before you. She felt like a bit of a voyeur. It was a strange feeling. She remembered trying to speak and move towards the house, but being unable to. Stranger than that was the feeling that she was meant to be there and see it. She jotted it all down, every part.

  Massey decided to give Father Patrick a call to see what he had found out. She hoped he would share his dream with her. She planned to share hers. She liked having it written down. That way she would not forget anything when telling him about it. She sat with the phone to her ear listening to the loud rings echoing.

  “Hello,” Father Patrick said.

  “Hi, Father. It’s Massey. I’m just checking in. Will you be coming by this evening?” Massey asked curiously.

  “Hello, Massey. I was going to call you later. No, I won’t be coming today. I have a lot to work on here, and the Acolyte class is this evening. I spoke to the Arch Diocese, but can’t see anyone for another week. I will call you tomorrow. Are you okay? Is everything alright there?” His voice sounded distant.

  “Everything is fine. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about the dream you had the other night. I know you were troubled by it,” Massey said.

  “I do want to talk about it, but not today. I’ll call you tomorrow. I hope you have a good evening. Massey, I’ve been meaning to let you know that you can call me or come here if ever you are uncomfortable there alone,” he said softly.

  “Thanks, but everything is okay for now. I’ll look forward to your call. Thanks. Bye,” she said.

  “Goodbye,” he said. He sounded tired.

  * * * *

  Massey’s walk with Jenkins was brief that evening. The cold winds were biting, and even though Massey wanted to stay out longer, she was chilled to the bone after just a short stroll. She called Jenkins to her side and into the house. Dinner was lonely and quick. She hoped that the History Channel had something interesting to offer tonight.

  Luckily, a program about the Knights Templar was scheduled, and Massey sat down with a cup of tea and her favorite throw. She could still hear Jenkins eating his food in the kitchen. The evening winds were whipping through the trees, and Massey pulled the warm throw close her chest as she listened to the windows slightly rattling against their frames. She looked towards the side window of the parlor as the winds swept across them, echoing and whistling through the porches. Massey felt the urge to walk to the window and peer out. She failed to resist.

  The edges of the blanket swept the floor as she stood and walked to the window. The coldness of the night air emanated from the old glass of the panes. The driveway lights shone like beacons, lighting the oaks and causing the gravel pathway to shimmer. Massey stood gazing down the drive thinking of how the tunnel of large, old trees seemed to shiver in the cold breezes of November as if they were ancient wooden giants hovering, bending, and sheltering the path to a magical kingdom. Her eyes drifted to the cemetery.

  There was no sign of a light above the tombstones tonight. The branches of the trees swayed as if dancing, sometimes nearly touching the tops of the stones. Massey thought of Marie and Joseph once more. There they lay, deep within the cold ground beside one another, forever. She imagined Marie yearning to reach for Joseph’s hand, to feel his warm and loving touch. She thought of how cold her bed would be tonight with Theo gone. She closed the blind tightly.

  There just weren’t enough programs on television this evening. To avoid bed, Massey watched everything that interested her and some that did not. She never minded staying alone while Theo was away, but this night was different.

  Summer nights were full of the sounds of birds and crickets and life. Fall and winter nights were empty except for the sad, lonely winds. The quiet was not comforting, it was unnerving.

  As much as she tried, she could not entertain herself enough, sleep had to come. Massey decided to leave the foyer and kitchen lights on, and she even considered leaving the television on as well, but didn’t. Even the warm bath was not soothing tonight, and the fluffy, coziness of her bed was not inviting. She would welcome big old Jenkins to the foot of the bed tonight. She was so grateful for his company, and she thought of how Theo, as usual, had made an absolutely perfect decision to get her the dog.

  * * * *

  Late into the night or sometime in the wee hours of the cold morning the dreams came again. Massey saw herself climb out of the bed and walk towards the mirror. She stood silent and still before the reflection as her own image faded into an image of the inside of her home. The house was brimming with people. The music of an orchestra was playing somewhere in the distance, and ladies dressed in laces and pearls danced gracefully in the arms of finely-suited gentlemen. The couples swirled along the length of the parlor and into the foyer. There were swags of greenery and lit candles adorning the house. Servants bustled about with shiny silver trays of fruits and meats and desserts.

  Massey could smell the fragrances of Christmas, the evergreens, the cinnamon, and the spice cakes. Laughter and conversation echoed throughout the rooms of the home. Her attention suddenly focused on the staircase. At the top of the staircase stood Marie. She was dressed in a long, full-skirted, elaborately adorned dress. Lovely patterns embroidered the golden silk fabric. Her coal black curls fell long and softly down her back and shoulders, and she wore a small diamond and pearl tiara atop her curls. Marie smiled at the guests as they looked up at the stunning hostess.

  As Marie descended the stairs, she nodded and spoke to the obviously adoring men and women she met. Strong, handsome Joseph stood waiting at the foot of the staircase. He reached out his gloved hand and took hers as she reached the last step. He bent as if bowing and kissed her hand and then her temple. As she looked at him, Marie’s smile broadened into one that spoke to his heart, and he smiled back.

  “My beautiful bride and I wish to welcome each of you to Lovesong once again this Christmas. May the blessings of our happy home touch each of you. Please, enjoy the music, food, and wine; and may this evening be a celebration of Christmastide that you will remember. Happy Christmas!” Joseph said as he handed Marie a glass.

  “Happy Christmas!” the group exclaimed as they raised their glasses.

  Massey watched the visions as if she were standing within the event herself. She listened to the conversations of the ladies as they spoke to one another of Marie’s dress, and the beautiful home. She watched as the men walked onto the porches and smoked cigars. She slowly moved her head from side to side as Marie sat at the piano and entertained all with one of her enchanting tunes.

  As Massey watched the festive evening unfold before her eyes and from within the depths of the old mirror, she
noticed the tender embraces and kisses exchanged at secret times between Joseph and Marie. He would approach her and touch her hand gently or tenderly stroke her cheek or hair as she spoke to her guests. Even as he conversed with gentlemen about crops or politics, he glanced from time to time towards her, making sure she was enjoying the evening.

  Massey was disappointed when the guests began to leave. She felt as though she was attending a party that she didn’t want to end. She watched as the servants handed the ladies their shawls and the gentlemen their tall hats. Carriages lined up at the door, awaiting the guests. Each person had a kind word of appreciation for the couple and a wish for season’s blessings. Joseph and Marie were the most gracious of hosts and stood at the large door waving until the last of the carriages had departed.

  After all the guests had left and the servants had retreated to the kitchen outside behind the barn, Marie flung her arms around Joseph and kissed his forehead. He took her hand, twirled her under his arm, and began to dance with her. She laughed.

  “Sing, my pretty love. We cannot dance without music. Sing to me, my Christmas Angel,” Joseph said as he twirled her around once again.

  Marie began to laugh loudly as he twirled her. He laughed with her. They danced and danced as she sang a Christmas carol. Joseph stopped suddenly and placed his hand to her mouth. With one finger against her lips, he quieted her and pulled a box from his jacket pocket. Marie let out a gasp as she rushed with the box to the stairs and sat down. She gently pulled the red ribbon from the box and opened it.

  Within the box, lying upon deep purple velvet was the locket. The gold was shiny and new. She carefully opened it and looked at the picture, reading the inscription as her eyes welled with tears. She leaned towards Joseph and pressed her lips against his. He sat next to her and pulled her tightly against him. The kiss seemed to go on forever. When Joseph opened his eyes, Marie was handing him the locket.

  “Here, darling, place it on me. I will never be seen without this now, not ever,” Marie said as he placed the locket around her neck.

  “Now, it is your turn to receive your gift from me, dear husband,” Marie said as she ran into the parlor. She went to the Chippendale desk in the corner and opened a drawer. Within the drawer was a small box wrapped in green paper with a bow atop it. She smiled and raised the gift to Joseph as he approached her.

  “What is this, darling? I have my Christmas Angel. What else could a man want?” Joseph smiled and took the box from her small hand.

  “Well, you will have to see for yourself. I made it myself, darling,” Marie replied.

  Pulling the ribbon from the box, Joseph discarded it and the paper on the floor and took the lid off the box. As he looked inside, he smiled. Reaching into the box, he pulled out a pair of tiny white crocheted booties.

  “I don’t think they’ll fit, darling, but the work is stupendous!” He laughed.

  Then he looked up at her tear-filled eyes and grabbed his wife by the waist swinging her about.

  “A child?” Joseph asked.

  Marie nodded as she laughed, tightening her arms around Joseph’s shoulders.

  “Finally, dear husband, we are going to have a child. Now, we can share our love with our child.”

  “I have so much love for you, wife, it could be shared with a million children and there would still be a heart full! What a magnificent Christmas gift!” Joseph laughed as he spoke.

  The image faded from the mirror and from Massey’s eyes as she awoke. She had a smile on her face as she lifted her head and looked through the darkness to see Jenkins resting near her feet. She turned towards the mirror. There was nothing there. Climbing out of bed, she threw her furry pink robe over her shoulders and headed downstairs. She could hear Jenkins jumping down from the bed as she reached the parlor. The couple was staring at her as she reached for the locket hanging on the picture frame. Massey opened the locket and looked at Joseph. She ran her fingers across the cool glass covering his handsome face. She read the words and remembered Marie’s expression as she had read the very same words for the first time. The sun was rising as she placed the chain on the frame again.

  * * * *

  The old oaks along the drive seemed happier the next morning. They swayed as if wishing Massey good morning as she walked with Jenkins down the drive to retrieve the morning paper. She could hear the sporadic traffic along the highway as people made their ways to work. Theo should be preparing to fly home tomorrow. She’d have to plan a good dinner for him this week. She knew he was missing the food; she hoped he was missing her. Massey walked toward the cemetery and peeked over the rusted iron fence at the headstones. She remembered last night’s dream.

  Thanksgiving was just around the corner now, and there was a lot to do. She’d have to call the market and order the fried turkey before it was too late. She was looking forward to having Sadie there for a couple of days. The house seemed happier when more people were there, she thought. She’d have to give Sadie a call and find out if any additional guests would be tagging along. The thought of spending time with her daughter made the sunshiny day seem even brighter.

  Massey had just finished writing notes in her journal about last night’s dream when she heard the knock at the door. To her surprise, it was Mrs. Purdue and Sandra. Massey was thrilled to see them and even more thrilled to have the company. She welcomed them in.

  “Why, my Lord, it is the same!” Mrs. Purdue said as her eyes scanned the interior of the house.

  “That’s exactly where the hall tree stood, and the foyer table was just where it is now. Lord, it brings back memories, so many memories” she said. “Here, honey. I made you some little apple pies.” Mrs. Purdue motioned for Sandra to hand Massey the large brown paper bag.

  Massey took the bag and thanking her, invited them into the parlor. Mrs. Purdue could hardly make the walk on her metal walker from the foyer to the parlor, but she did. She stood in the center of the huge room looking around as if she was inspecting every inch of it. Noticing the picture on the mantel, she made her way to it. With one hand on the mantel, she reached for the frame and brought it closer to her face. She shook her head. Then, she saw the locket hanging from the corner.

  Placing the frame back in its place, she lifted the locket from the frame and tried to open it. Her hands were too shaky. Sandra walked to help her.

  “Do you mind?” Sandra asked as she looked towards Massey.

  “Oh, of course not,” Massey replied.

  Sandra handed the locket back to her grandmother after she had opened it. Mrs. Purdue looked at the picture of Joseph and smiled.

  “He’s been visiting me in my dreams,” she said turning to Massey.

  Massey walked over and looked into the locket. Mrs. Purdue handed it to Massey and she placed it back on the frame. She didn’t know whether to question Mrs. Purdue about what she had just said or not. She looked at Sandra. Sandra just smiled and shook her head.

  “Momma, keep that Voodoo stuff to yourself, now. We discussed it already,” Sandra said.

  Mrs. Purdue laughed and nodded as Massey helped her to the sofa. She insisted that they try some of her pies, so Massey made a pot of tea and brought them each a small pie on a saucer. Mrs. Purdue didn’t say much while they enjoyed the snack. Massey could have eaten another, but decided to wait until lunch. She was impressed that Mrs. Purdue still cooked a bit, and she was touched that she had gone to so much trouble for her. She would have to think of something special to make in turn.

  After the last bite of pie and a last sip of tea, Mrs. Purdue ran the napkin across her lips and turned to Massey.

  “I made Sandra drive real slowly up that driveway. I can still see Miss Totti sitting there on the front porch watching me play and swing. I can still smell the camellias that bloomed here every summer. Why, I can even smell the soap I used to wash her sheets. I loved to hang them on the line out there by the barn. They smelled like pure Heaven!” She leaned her head back and took a deep breath as she spoke.
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br />   Massey listened as Mrs. Purdue went on and on about her childhood at Lovesong House. She remembered such detail. She talked about the important guests and colorful parade of characters from New Orleans who came to visit. She told Massey about the gifts Miss Totti would give to her for birthdays and holidays, and she related how she and a few other area children would hide in the bushes during the nights that Miss Totti had parties, peeping through the windows and giggling at the funny ways they talked and danced. She said that she knew Miss Totti knew they were there, but she never let on or ran them off. She told how they looked forward to the big holidays because Miss Totti purposefully ordered too much meat and candy and cakes so that they would have plenty left over for their home. Massey thought of the Christmas dream the night before.

  “Now, go get that other sack out of the car, Sandra,” Mrs. Purdue said as she finished her story.

  In just a bit, Sandra had returned to the parlor with another bag. Mrs. Purdue reached for it and placed it on Massey’s lap.

  “What’s this?” Massey asked with a smile.

  “Just open it, and see for yourself, honey,” Mrs. Purdue answered.

  Massey opened the paper bag and looked inside. There was something small wrapped in tissue lying in the bottom. She reached in and pulled out the light item. As she began to unwrap the bundle, her hands began to shake. Inside the tissue was the smallest set of crocheted booties for a baby. They were old and dingy as if they had been stored away forever in an old cupboard or truck. Moths had chewed one side of one of them, which now had a large hole in it. Massey nearly dropped them. She looked at Mrs. Purdue in amazement.

  “I found these in one of the boxes Miss Totti left Momma. See what the ribbon says,” Mrs. Purdue said smiling.

  Massey noticed the small ribbon tied to the end of one of the socks. There was faded writing along it, and she could hardly read what it said, but after putting on her glasses, she managed.

  Made by Marie Duseau for baby son Joseph

  Massey could not believe it. She was holding the crocheted booties that Marie had made for her son and given to Joseph at Christmas. She had seen these same little booties in her dream. She looked back at Mrs. Purdue, but before she could manage to get a word out of her lips, Mrs. Purdue spoke.