The Haunting of Lovesong House

by G. F. Frost

  The detail and thought Marie had put down in the thick little book amazed Massey. She perfectly described every piece of clothing, every day in class, walks with her friends in the city, food, and every aspect of her life as a young teen. It seemed like a world of make believe to Massey and so far removed from this day and time. The girls never left school without a chaperone, they were taught to speak and read in Latin and French, they learned delicate needlework, and they were taught how to dress, eat, entertain, and socialize as “well-bred” ladies.

  Some of the descriptions made Massey laugh. She imagined imposing thoughts and restrictions of that caliber on teenage girls today, there would be a revolution! The fine young ladies of that era were definitely kept in a fishbowl and treated as a lovely, delicate species to themselves. No one would ever consider that they were equal to men in any way, shape or form, especially when it came to the important matters of mind. The Catholic Finishing School that Marie attended charged high fees to bring up the young ladies to be chaste, charming and agreeable; and the nuns at Saint Alphonsus took their responsibilities seriously, after all, they were in charge of making sure these girls attracted men of the highest caliber for marriage.

  Laying the book on her knees, Massey smiled. She used to think that it would have been wonderful to have lived in the Gilded Age, but it seemed to be “gilded” for only men. She looked at her sleeping husband and felt grateful that she could speak her mind. As opinionated as Massey was, she knew she would have been locked away at a young age for speaking her mind if she had lived during those times. She turned to the picture on the mantel and noticed again how Marie’s head tilted just slightly towards her husband, and she had just a hint of a smile on her pretty lips. Massey thought of how Marie must have wanted to smile and even lay her head upon her husband’s shoulder, but that would have been unacceptable. Shaking her head, she began to read again.

  By the time Theo stirred on the sofa, Massey had read through Marie’s early teenage years, and she was just at the part where she met Joseph. Massey looked up as Theo sat up on the sofa.

  “We’re having leftovers, is that okay?” Massey asked, knowing the answer.

  “Sure,” Theo said yawning.

  He had been asleep for over three hours and Massey hoped he wasn’t coming down with something.

  “How’s the book?” Theo asked as he headed for the bathroom.

  “It’s good, sheds a lot of light on how she grew up,” Massey replied.

  Theo nodded.

  It was a good thing that they were having the leftovers. Massey reheated everything, threw the food on the table with a pitcher of iced tea, and sat reading the diary while Theo ate. He looked up at her from time to time, but didn’t interrupt. He remembered how she used to fuss at him if he read emails on his blackberry during their meals together. Tonight he understood why it had peeved her.

  Marie’s writings about meeting Joseph and their courtship were engrossing, and so were the parts detailing the wedding and honeymoon to Europe, but Massey read through each page quickly hoping to soon get to the parts about Lovesong House. There just wasn’t enough time tonight though. Her eyes were getting tired and sore from the hours of reading, and she was sleepy.

  She stayed in the bath until the water began to cool, she didn’t want to get out. Dragging herself to the bed, she crawled in and looked at her sleeping husband. How he could be sleeping after that long nap, she didn’t know.

  Theo had gone to bed without turning off the landing, hallway or bedroom lights, he never did that. Massey sighed deeply and got out of bed to turn out all the lights. She felt pretty sure that he was coming down with something. She felt his forehead as she climbed back into the bed, he felt cool. She stayed on her side tonight just in case. As she laid her head on the fluffy pillow, she thought of last night’s dream and prayed that they wouldn’t come again. The rhythmic sounds of Theo’s breathing soon sang her straight to sleep.

  Night passed smoothly and quietly, no dreams, no nightmares, no one standing over Massey in the darkness. Theo woke early and had the coffee brewing by the time Massey got out of bed. She hurriedly prepared a lunch for Theo and rushed Jenkins through his morning yard break. She had to get back to Marie’s diary. Mister Grant was piling firewood on the back veranda when she poured her second cup of coffee. He knocked at the door and asked to bring in wood for the fireplace; cold weather was on its way.

  Massey stood and watched as Mister Grant piled a small heap of freshly chopped wood beside the hearth in the parlor. He didn’t say anything as he made a few trips to the back porch returning with the armloads of oak. The wood came from an old tree that had fallen on the property during the heavy fall rains and winds. Massey stacked a couple of logs in the fireplace and turned on the gas starter to light it. She stood warming her back as he dropped the last load neatly on the pile.

  Massey gave him a nod and thanked him as he left the room. As the logs crackled and popped in the flames of the fire, she settled into Theo’s chair and began to read. Marie had written about visiting Lovesong House as it was being built. She told of Joseph making contracts with the most talented artisans to design and build the home and its furnishings. She was surprised to read that Joseph’s sister Tattienne moved into the house with the young couple as soon as the house was completed.

  Marie wrote a lot about Tattienne, she seemed to love her sister in law deeply. They were the closest of friends. Tattienne kept Marie company while Joseph was away. She accompanied Marie on her visits to neighboring plantations for barbecues and lunches with other Southern ladies. Tattienne and Marie took daily walks along the farmland and in the forests, and along the bayou and the river. They read books to one another and did elaborate needlework side by side at night. It was Tattienne who sat day and night by Marie’s side during the birth of baby Joseph and after his death. The diary revealed that she was more of a sister to Marie than an in-law. Except for her entries about Joseph, Marie wrote most lovingly about Tattienne.

  Massey was intrigued to read that there was more to Tattienne than she had imagined though. Marie made referrals to her sister in law’s “inappropriate associations” and her interest in Voodoo. She wrote about Tattienne’s interest in healing herbs and nightly trips into the deep wood clearings to watch the servants dance and drum vulgarly into the late hours. Marie noted that she had often heard Tattienne chanting unfamiliar tunes in her room at night. She had also found dolls made of clay and horsehair and straw tucked away in Tattienne’s dressers.

  Marie’s writings about her beloved sister in law seemed concerned for her well-being. She often wrote that she prayed that Tattienne would give up her secret interests and invest more time in the Church. She felt that Tattienne’s favorite servant woman Cammie and the young Jenkins had lured her into their practices. Even people in the highest circles were beginning to whisper about Tattienne’s reputation as being some sort of witch.

  Massey read on as Marie described how all the plantation families accepted the African beliefs as part of their world, but it was not taken on by the ladies or gentlemen. They would call upon the servants to use their potions and magic to help with problems or illnesses, but never discussed it with each other. >From Africans to Creoles and Whites, everyone from South Louisiana accepted Voodoo as part of the culture, but it was something used and referred to discreetly. Marie felt that Tattienne could ruin her reputation and chances of a good marriage if she didn’t leave it be.

  Massey was amused at the way Marie wrote of Tattienne’s dabbling. The wording was delicate and sensitive, it was respectful and yet concerned. Massey wondered if Tattienne’s servant lady who practiced Voodoo was Mrs. Purdue’s grandmother. She wished Marie had named her in the book.

  As Massey read on, she discovered that Tattienne had performed a ritual in the woods outside Lovesong House when Marie lay near death after the birth of the baby. Then, she ran the doctor out of the room and fed Marie herbs and potions. Soon afterwards, Marie began to get stron
ger. Marie spoke of Tattienne as the one who saved her, and she didn’t write of the Voodoo anymore.

  Massey sat back and pictured Tattienne sneaking into the woods to watch the servants dance to the sounds of African drums. She smiled to think that Tattienne defied the stigmas at the time and associated with people of a different class. Massey knew that race never really played a big part in associations in Louisiana though. There were Indians, French, Canadians, Africans, Italians, and Creoles in every community, so there could be no way to discern. Louisiana was always different, it was more European than American in many ways. The people were accepting and free-spirited. Catholicism was the predominant religion and a degree of decadence was acceptable. Massey thought of how it’s still the same today. Maybe that’s why she had wanted to get back so badly.

  The boring little spinster image that Massey had once tagged Tattienne with had now dissolved. She had an entirely new idea and image of Tattienne and her life at Lovesong House. Maybe that’s why Tattienne socialized so much more after Joseph and Marie died, maybe she didn’t want to disgrace Joseph’s memory by being shunned by the upper classes. Massey wondered what Tattienne’s later years must have been like without any family or husband, alone at Lovesong House. Maybe that’s why she had such good relationships with her workers; they must have been all she had.

  Massey wondered what had happened to Joseph’s brother Pierre’s children and why Marie never mentioned any of them. She would have to ask Mrs. Purdue about that. Maybe she would remember something. Massey read on.

  After she read a few of the pages that Marie had written during her time in bed recuperating from the birth of baby Joseph, Massey laid down the book and rubbed her eyes. She laid her head back and closed her eyes listening to the crackling fire. She felt warm and cozy with big old Jenkins at her feet.

  She fell into a deep sleep and began to dream. In her dream, she floated from the chair high above the furniture up the stairs and into the bedroom. As she floated into the room, she noticed Joseph lying dead upon the bed. Massey landed softly on her feet and looked towards the bed.

  Marie sat beside Joseph. The slits in her wrists were pouring dark red blood with every beat of her heart. Marie looked helplessly at Massey as she reached both of her slashed bloody wrists towards her. She turned her head towards the baby crib, which was draped in black. Marie turned her eyes again on Massey then pointed her dripping arm towards the crib. Massey tried to move towards it, but she froze in place. She could hear the low tiny cries of a baby coming from the crib.

  Marie’s eyes darkened, her face transformed from sad and desperate to pale and wicked. Her beautiful delicate features melted into something harsh and skeletal, she bared her teeth and growled at Massey pointing towards the crib. Massey tried to close her eyes to black out the monstrous face, but they would not close. She watched in sheer terror as the layers of black lace began to rise above the crib. Marie held out her fleshless skeletal arms as the lacey covering dropped to the floor and a baby skeleton floated to its mother’s boney arms.

  Massey tried to scream as Marie’s lifeless corpse sat holding the dead baby. Marie looked down at her child and looked at Massey; she opened her mouth and squealed a howling tortured scream towards her. Everything went black.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Massey awoke in a panic. She could not catch her breath. She tried to stand up and walk to the downstairs bath to wash her face, but collapsed on the parlor floor. She lay there unaware of anything for several minutes. In the distance, she could hear a very faint whining, it sounded like Jenkins. She tried to open her eyes, but she couldn’t, her breathing was shallow and stressed.

  “Miss Massey! Miss Massey!” Mister Grant yelled.

  He ran into the parlor and began to sit her up. He patted her face, watching as her eyes flittered and opened. She looked up into his troubled face. Massey didn’t know what had happened. She tried to sit up and fell back as he caught her. She closed her eyes again.

  “Don’t move, Miss Massey. Lie here and I’ll go get a cold cloth for your head. Does anything feel like ya mighta broke it?” Mister Grant asked as he stood up.

  Massey shook her head and lay back on the pillow he had tucked beneath it. Within seconds, Mister Grant returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water. He sat Massey up and gave her the cloth. She rubbed the cool cloth across her forehead and reached for the glass. Mister Grant steadied the glass in her shaking hand as she took a sip. Once she had her bearings, Massey stood up and Mister Grant helped her to the chair.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I stood up and the next thing I know, I’m on the floor and you’re calling my name. I must have fainted,” Massey replied. “How did you know?”

  “That crazy mutt of yours nearly tore the kitchen door down. I was in the barn looking for a spade when I heard loud bangs and scratching on the kitchen door. Then I heard whining and then barking. Before I made it to the door, he nearly tore that thing off its hinges. You’re probably gonna have to buy a whole new door. It is torn up!” Mister Grant looked at Jenkins.

  Jenkins was standing beside the chair licking Massey’s arm. She looked down at him and patted his head. She still felt light-headed. Mister Grant could tell by her eyes that she was still weak. He offered to take her to town to see the doctor or call Theo, but Massey kept insisting that she was okay. Hesitantly, he walked to the barn to find something to temporarily repair the kitchen door. He told her that he would check on her later and he wasn’t going to leave the property until Theo made it home.

  Massey tried to relax and close her eyes until she felt stronger, but as soon as she closed her eyes, she remembered her dream. She sat up in the chair and called for Mister Grant. He came running from the yard throwing the hammer on the kitchen table.

  “I still don’t feel well, do you mind sitting with me a while?” Massey asked.

  She felt bad about lying, but the horrific nightmare had left her so terrified that she couldn’t stand the thought of being alone. Mister Grant nodded, but looked around the room as if unsure where to sit. Finally, he decided to sit in a small antique rocking chair in the corner opposite Massey. He didn’t know what to do or say. He just sat there and looked at his feet.

  “I think I may have gotten up too fast and the blood rushed to my head,” Massey offered.

  Mister Grant nodded.

  “I get drunk feelin’ sometimes when I am bent over a long time workin’ and stand up straight too fast,” he said never looking at Massey.

  Massey smiled. She knew he didn’t feel comfortable at all.

  “You can go ahead and work on the kitchen door, just stay in the house for a little while if you don’t mind,” Massey said.

  Mister Grant nodded and rushed into the kitchen to work.

  Massey sat looking at the book lying on the ottoman. She thought of how scary her dream had been and remembered the horrifying vision of Marie holding her dead child. Thinking of it made Massey cringe. She would be glad to hear Theo coming in the door. She was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to shake image from her mind. Massey didn’t want to read the diary anymore today; she didn’t want to think about anything to do with Marie and Joseph.

  Massey had walked over to the coffee table to get the remote control when Mister Grant peeked in to check on her.

  “You feelin’ okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. If you want to go home, that will be okay. Theo will be home soon and I’m feeling just fine,” Massey said as she plopped down on the sofa.

  Mister Grant looked at her and decided to stay until Theo arrived. He knew that he’d feel bad if something happened to her after he left. Massey smiled when he told her that he still had a few things to do before leaving. She knew he didn’t want to go until he knew Theo was there, and it warmed her heart. She nodded as she turned on the television. She didn’t care what programs were on, she just didn’t want to think of the dream.

  Massey sat watching televis
ion, and Martha had made a pot of clam chowder, homemade stationary and planted annuals by the time Massey heard Theo’s truck. It was the most wonderful sound she had ever heard. No dream had ever frightened her like the one today; each one seemed to have gotten more horrific and vivid. Massey didn’t want to remember it though; she looked back at the television and watched as Martha appeared after the commercial with a parrot on her shoulder.

  Mister Grant met Theo in the front yard and filled him in on Massey’s fainting episode. Theo rushed into the house and walked over to her raising his large hand to her forehead.

  “How do you feel, honey? What happened?” he asked.

  “I think I just stood up too fast and blacked out.” She smiled at her husband.

  Mister Grant stood peeking into the parlor.

  “Ya feelin’ better?” he asked with his crooked smile.

  “Thank you for looking after me, Mister Grant. I’m feeling much better,” she said as she smiled back at him.

  Theo looked concerned as he sat down on the sofa next to her. He had never known Massey to have a fainting spell.

  “The flu is going around in the city. You don’t think it’s that, do you?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, honey, no chills, and no fever. It’s not the flu, don’t worry,” she said assuredly.

  Theo covered Massey with the throw from the back of the sofa and told her not to worry about dinner. She hadn’t even thought of it. He walked into the kitchen and looked around as if he were on another planet. The coffee pot was the only thing that he knew how to work. He opened the refrigerator looking inside for things to make a sandwich. Massey listened from the parlor as he moved things around, looking for lunch meat and cheese. She had to smile.