The Haunting of Lovesong House

by G. F. Frost

  As he returned to the pantry to replace the flashlight, he remembered the attic. He hadn’t gone into the attic. He decided that if he were to do this right, he would have to inspect it too. The barn and cellar would wait until tomorrow. They were too dark and cold to visit tonight, but he needed to see the attic. He had hated attics and basements as a child, but he wasn’t a child anymore, and he had a job to do. If the attic had anything that would offer any help to his mission, he would try to find it tonight. The thought of it made his heart beat a little faster.

  He checked the flashlight once again before going upstairs. He could hear Massey’s deep breaths as he passed the parlor. She was sleeping soundly thanks to the wine. The door to the stairs leading to the attic took a bit of tugging to pull open. The old hinges squeaked loudly and it opened, and he waited a few seconds, listening to make certain the noise hadn’t woken Massey. Father Patrick looked up the dark, narrow stairway. There was another door at the top.

  He slowly closed the small door behind him before switching on the flashlight. The beam seemed brighter than usual in the small space. The door at the top of the stairs opened easily, and Father Patrick shined the beam of light ahead of him into the room.

  The attic was enormous and expansive. He had not imagined the size of the space. It extended the entire width of the huge home. The old wooden beams above his head were heavy and huge. He could see that marks still remained from the hand hewing of the trees used to make them years and years ago. The timbers seemed as strong as the day they were placed there.

  Father Patrick shined the light onto each item within the room. The amount of antiques, portraits, trunks, and boxes amazed him. It would take months to go through all these things. As he walked through the room, he stopped at the portraits and looked into the faces. There was an unnerving quality about them. In the darkness of the attic, the faces seemed pale and lifeless, the eyes staring blankly at him. Father Patrick felt a chill on the back of his neck. He looked into a few of the trunks and thought of the safe that Massey had been searching for. In the far corner of the room was a metal frame of some sort. The shape was unusual. Shining the flashlight towards the corner, he walked closer.

  Tucked deep within the dark, dusty eave of the corner, sat a metal cradle or bassinet of some sort. It stood off the floor on an elaborate frame. It had been molded and shaped into a swan or stork. The details within the ironwork were incredible. The wings of the bird extended to form a hood over the bed.

  Father Patrick imagined white lace fabric hanging from the beak of the bird over the edges of the iron bed’s basket. The feet of the frame formed bird legs with claws that supported the frame. The rusty iron basket swung from side to side as he gently pushed it. He stood there rocking the metal basket from side to side as if there were a sleeping child within. Father Patrick wondered if this had been for Marie and Joseph’s baby. He took the flashlight and stopped the rocking.

  Once more around the room, and he was satisfied that he had covered all he could for the night. As he started to walk towards the door, it suddenly slammed shut before him. He jumped and shined the light on it. Turning quickly, he shined the light around the room as if searching for something there with him. He hurried towards the door and tried to open it. It wouldn’t budge. As the priest pulled and pulled on the knob of the door, he heard a scraping sound behind him.

  The door would not open. He could hear Jenkins barking downstairs. As his heart began to pound, he pulled harder. The scraping from behind came closer. He turned just in time to see the large metal baby bed moving slowly across the room towards him. At first, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, then he shined the light on it, and it began to move more quickly across the rough wood of the attic floor. Faster and faster, the bed raced towards him! Father Patrick jumped just in time to avoid it as the huge bird crashed into the door. It toppled to the left and fell on its side. Father Patrick lost his footing and fell with it. He let out a scream.

  Just as he regained his footing, Father Patrick heard Massey’s voice coming from behind the door. She was knocking hard as she called for him. Jenkins was barking and growling loudly. Father Patrick shoved the bed to the side and pulled the door open, rushing right into Massey. The two nearly fell down the steps as he barreled into her. Taking her hand, Father Patrick rushed down the stairs and slammed the bottom door behind them. He could not catch his breath.

  “What happened, what happened?” Massey asked.

  Father Patrick could not answer her. He ran down the stairs and into the foyer before stopping. He switched on every light that he could see. He was trembling from head to toe. Walking to the bottom of the stairs, he collapsed. Massey ran into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of wine. There was hardly anything left inside, but she handed it to him and he swallowed the contents wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

  “You know the baby bed, the one in the attic, the bird one?” Father Patrick asked frantically.

  Massey nodded.

  “It was, it was, a… It was trying to kill me! It was coming after me. I don’t know. It was moving fast and almost hurt me! It slammed into the door. It moved! It moved fast!” Father Patrick sounded a bit hysterical.

  He tried to suck another drink from the bottle, but there was none. He placed it on the floor. His hands were not trembling anymore, they were shaking wildly. Massey took them in hers and tried to calm him. He rose from the steps and looked towards the attic. He rubbed his head and reached for the crucifix. Rubbing the silver through his fingers, he returned to the kitchen.

  “Turn on the lights!” he said firmly.

  Massey walked to the switch and turned on all the kitchen lights. She pulled out a kitchen chair and walked Father Patrick to it. As he sat down, he turned to Massey with a look that she did not recognize. She felt nervous. She felt that he had taken all he could endure tonight.

  “I cannot believe this is happening,” he said as he looked into Massey’s face. “I am supposed to believe in unbelievable, but I cannot believe this.” He rubbed his head with his two hands.

  “Why don’t you go home, Father? The night is nearly over, and I’ve had sleep. Go home and rest. You can come back tomorrow.” Massey’s voice sounded kind and soft as she touched his shoulder.

  Father Patrick raised his head from his hands as she spoke.

  “I will never leave you alone in this house again!” he said. “There is something here, there is!”

  Massey watched as the priest began to pace the kitchen, back and forth. He looked as though he had so much to say but didn’t have the words.

  “Let’s go back in front of the fire.” Massey beckoned.

  Father Patrick followed as she and Jenkins slowly walked into the parlor. They sat quietly together for more than an hour before both fell asleep. Massey had watched as Father Patrick dozed off on the sofa, and she sat in Theo’s big chair hoping to stay awake but was soon fast asleep as well. Before the light of morning came, so did the dream, and so did the visitors. The darkness had more to offer before the sun’s rays purified the day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As she slept, Massey saw herself at the bedroom mirror. She knew that she had to look deep into it to see what they wanted her to see. There it was, the house, waiting for her to peer into the lives that were once there. There it was, waiting for her to witness the events exactly as they had been, or exactly as they were once again. She strained to see the figures in the mirror through the darkness of her bedroom.

  Massey could see her bedroom through the mirror. It was as it had been before, decorated in old fabrics and wallpaper. There were oil lamps burning beside the bed on the tables. People were milling about as if tending to something. She could see someone on the bed. A dark lady was bending over the person in the bed. The figure in the bed was tossing about as if in pain. She heard voices speaking.

  “Be still, Mrs. Marie. The baby will be here soon. Doctor Joseph will soon be back with the other doctor. They’ll help u
s. Calm now. Calm, Mrs.” The female voice sounded wise and certain.

  Massey could see the lady dipping a cloth into a basin near the bed. She wiped the forehead of the woman on the bed. She was moaning and turning as in agony. Suddenly she began to scream. Another dark woman approached the bed and held the shoulders of the lady lying there.

  It was Marie on the bed. Massey could see her dark hair and eyes in the lamp light. She was grimacing in pain. Her legs drew up close to her chest as she screamed. She tossed violently against the two women.

  “It’s coming! It’s coming now!” Marie screamed.

  “You’ve gotta hold on, Mrs. Marie. The baby’s turned wrong. We need to wait on the doctor,” the lady to her left said.

  Massey watched silently as the scene before her brightened. As the women bathed and rubbed Marie, she yelled and squirmed in pain. Within minutes, two men rushed into the room and pulled the two attending women back and away from Marie. Massey recognized Joseph but did not know who the other man was. The men pulled the covers from the bed and began to work on Marie. It seemed like hours of screaming and pulling and women rushing about with pails of water and cloths before the cries of a baby rang through the room.

  No more sounds came from Marie. She lay silent upon the bloodied bed sheets. Joseph motioned for the basin of water and held the baby in his arms as he washed the infant. Marie raised her head weakly. Joseph turned to her and placed the child in her arms. Massey watched as she kissed the baby and fell back onto the feather pillows. Joseph handed the baby to one of the ladies in the room and returned to Marie’s side. He lay beside her, caressing her head and kissing her.

  The doctor who had come in with Joseph was busy tending to Marie. He pushed the oil lamp closer to her and pulled her legs apart. Massey could not see what he was doing, but he took cloth after cloth to her and cleaned as the busy women handed him items. Before long, he handed the lamp to one of the ladies and told her to finish cleaning Marie.

  Joseph rose from the bed and pulled the doctor towards Massey. She stepped back as if they would see her, and listened as the doctor whispered to Joseph.

  “The baby is weak, and your wife has lost a lot of blood. It was breech, and when I turned him, he lost breath for a good while. I don’t know if either of them is strong enough to…” He didn’t finish his sentence before Joseph slapped the doctor hard across his face.

  “They will be fine. My Marie will live and be fine. You do whatever you can. Bring in anyone. I’ll pay anything, anything. She will be fine,” Joseph said as he rubbed the man’s shoulder in apology.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor Duseau, but she will never be able to have another child,” the man said rubbing his cheek.

  “Then, our boy will live and so will she. They will be well.” Joseph spoke with such conviction that the doctor nodded.

  Massey felt a tear roll down her cheek. She pushed closer to the mirror as Joseph returned to Marie and lay down beside her.

  “You will be fine, darling, and so will our fine son,” Joseph whispered into her ear.

  “My locket, they took my locket,” Marie said as she reached for the table beside her bed.

  Joseph rose and walked around the bed to the other side. He took the gold locket and placed the chain around Marie’s neck. She felt for the chain and looked down at it. She fainted into a deep sleep.

  As Marie slept, Massey awoke. She looked around the room. Father Patrick was still asleep on the sofa, his head back against the cushions and his mouth slightly open. The morning had not yet come. Massey turned towards the picture on the mantel. She noticed the locket. She shook her head. She closed her eyes once more and fell back to sleep.

  There was no mirror in this dream. Massey stood on the porch beside Joseph. She tried to speak to him, but no voice would come. She attempted to reach out to him, but she could not move. He did not see her. Marie sat holding the baby in her arms. She looked pretty in the warm sunshine of the porch. The baby was small and wrapped in light blue blankets. Marie was singing to him as she rocked. She stopped to kiss his small head, and then began to sing again. Her eyes never left the child.

  “You look strong today, my love,” Joseph said to Marie as he reached to take her hand. She nodded.

  “I don’t think the doctor knows everything. He’s looking stronger too, Joseph. Don’t you think so?” Marie asked as she looked towards her husband.

  Joseph bent to kiss the baby. He picked him up and carried him into the house. Marie followed. She seemed slow and weak. A pretty, African woman followed closely behind. Massey tried to enter the house, but she could not move. She watched as the sky darkened around her and winds swept up. The sun went down and rose again before her eyes. She could hear crying from inside the home. She stepped back from the porch and saw Joseph through the sheer bedroom windows. Joseph was pacing back and forth just as the shadow had. The crying became louder. It sounded like Marie.

  Again, the winds came and the darkness surrounded Massey. The morning came and she stood there before the house. There were black carriages around her. People were walking to the cemetery. A priest came out of the house followed by Joseph and Marie. The crowd of people had gathered around a grave. Massey walked closer. She tried to ask a woman in the crowd what was happening, but again no sound came from her lips.

  As she looked towards the cemetery, she saw the tiny coffin. She knew it was the baby boy. Joseph led Marie to the coffin. She was dressed in black lace from head to toe. A long black lace veil covered her beautiful face. She bowed her head and stumbled, even as Joseph held her tightly. As the priest spoke, Marie wiped tears from underneath the dark lace. Joseph took a handkerchief from his waistcoat and handed it to his wife. She leaned her head on his shoulder. The servant women standing near the house were sobbing.

  After the ceremony, Massey tried to walk towards the couple. They stood together, watching as the small casket was lowered by ropes into the hole. The crowd had left the couple and entered the house. The two began to cry together.

  “His stockings, Joseph, they forgot to place his stockings on his little feet. Will his feet be warm in Heaven? His feet are always cold. Why did they forget the stockings I knitted him?” Marie sobbed helplessly as she spoke.

  Breaking free from Joseph, she pulled up her skirts and ran into the house and into their room. She rushed to the crib and pulled out the tiny white booties the baby had worn. Joseph ran behind her. Grabbing his wife, he held her closely and let her fall into him. Her cries echoed throughout the house. Massey saw everything. Her heart was breaking for the couple.

  As the scene faded from her, Massey awoke. The sun was shining through the parlor windows and Father Patrick was not on the sofa. Massey sat up and looked around the room. She rose to her feet and walked to the mantel. Lying there next to the picture of Joseph and Marie were the tiny booties. They looked more tattered and dingy than they were in her dream. She held them in her hands and rubbed the soft yarn.

  * * * *

  The smell of coffee brewing was coming from the kitchen. Father Patrick was standing in front of the coffee pot watching as the dark brew dripped into the clear pitcher. He looked tired and worn. His hands trembled a bit as he reached for the pot. He hadn’t noticed Massey standing in the kitchen doorway. Jenkins was barking at the front door. As Massey turned to walk to the door, Father Patrick looked up at her.

  “You slept. Did you dream?” he asked, stirring the sugar around in the mug.

  “I dreamed and dreamed again. I have so much to tell you. Are you okay this morning? You slept a little yourself, didn’t you?”

  Jenkins bound into the kitchen when she opened the door, nearly tripping the priest. They both laughed as the dog slid across the floor and into the cabinet door. He was frisky early in the morning, and he always made Massey laugh at his clumsiness. She thought of how Jenkins had become her comic relief. Slapping her thigh, she summoned the oversized mutt to her side.

  “Lotta help you were last night. You’re not
a great guard dog. I don’t even know why you’re here. You silly thing!”She patted the dog’s furry head.

  Massey poured herself a cup of coffee and began pulling bacon out of the refrigerator. She knew Father Patrick would appreciate a good breakfast before he left for his office. They both devoured the eggs, bacon and toast as if they hadn’t eaten in days. Neither mentioned anything about the previous night. The two acted as though the terrible night had beaten them down. After breakfast, Father Patrick went into the parlor and packed his things into his small travel bag.

  “I’m going to the church office, and then I’d like to come back this afternoon, Massey. You should plan to tell Theo about everything. I know you think it will worry him, but I will be here to back you up, if need be,” Father Patrick said as he checked the batteries on his camera.

  “I’ll tell him, but not tonight. He’ll be so tired. I want to wait.” Massey folded the blankets on the sofa.

  Father Patrick agreed and walked to her. Placing his hands on both of her shoulders, he kissed her forehead. It made her feel warm and secure to know that he was there for her. As horrible as the happenings had become, she felt stronger knowing that he would never question her reasoning again. She knew they would have the bond of these nights forever.

  “I may return for the house blessing tonight, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I’ll come before Theo arrives home and be gone before then, if possible.”

  Massey followed him to his vehicle. He had not even bothered hiding it in the barn last night. As he drove away, she walked over to the cemetery. She brushed the leaves away once again, and she searched for the place where her dream had shown the baby’s grave. There was no sign of the little grave. A shiver came over her as she remembered Joseph and Marie’s grief.

  She had a lot of notes to write in her journal today. She sat and remembered each occurrence as accurately as she could before writing it down. After each line, she thought of what it all meant.