“I heard the noise and saw the fallen tree, but what on earth are you doing down here anyway?”
“We were looking for a vacant house for some friends who need to move. We wondered if you might put us up for the night?”
After a few moments of hesitation, “Well, I suppose so,” she said as she unlocked the screen door. “You say your mother is on my back porch?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, mercy sakes, let me go get her.” The rain had started again. “Come on in. I’ll be right back,” she said, stepping back to allow Addie to enter the door, then locking the screen again before shutting the door and locking it. “You wait right here while I fetch your mother.”
Addie was standing in a wide foyer, a stairway in front of her, and closed pocket doors on each side of her. There was no furniture, and the wallpaper was old and faded with water stains. The wooden stairs, the doors, and woodwork were darker than the worn, wooden floors, and a single light bulb hung from the ceiling. Even with the electric wires being down, Addie wondered if the woman had electricity.
She heard a couple of locks being unlocked, a door opening, then voices. Soon the woman was leading her mother into the dark hallway beside the stairs.
“Think nothing of it,” she was saying. “I don’t like the storm, but I’m glad it brought me some company. Don’t get many folks down here on the landing. Mrs. Johnson and that young delivery boy is about all. Don’t guess Mrs. Johnson will be back. Don’t have anything more she wants. I’ll miss the boy that drives that truck though. He’s so nice. Always want to know if there’s anything he can do for me while he’s down here picking up my pieces of furniture. I’ve seen the last of them, I’m sure. Only things left is two old chairs and a couple of iron beds. I don’t think the boy cares much for Mrs. Johnson. Says she’s cheating me. That my furniture is antique and Mrs. Johnson isn’t paying me enough for it. But, like my father used to say ‘ a thing is worth only what a body is willing to pay you for it’. She does pay, and I do need it.”
The three of them were standing in the foyer where the woman had left Addie. Della looked at Addie wondering if she had made the right decision about coming here?
“Well, let’s don’t just stand here. Come on in,” the woman said as she pushed back the pocket door on the right. The smell of the room reached out and engulfed them before they entered it.
Addie thought the odor almost sickening, and wondered if her mother could stand it? And the excessive heat of the room made the odor even worse, but Della followed the woman, who was explaining, “This is my living space. Just this one room and the kitchen – use-to be the dining room. Got two small gas heaters and water in the sink. All I need. Have a seat, have a seat,” she commanded after closing the door behind Addie and moving pillows and papers from a daybed under the front window for them to sit down.
The room was about fifteen by fifteen, Della figured, but it had wall to wall furniture crammed in it, making it seem smaller. An oblong, cloth covered table took up the space between the daybed and the outside wall. A straight back chair sat at the table, which contained a kerosene lamp, a sugar bowl, and salt and pepper shakers. At the right end of the daybed, a marbled top chest of dark wood held another kerosene lamp which was lit, a ticking wooden clock, a comb, hair brush, and hand mirror were scattered about with other personal items. A light blue, woven cotton spread was thrown over the daybed, and Della and Addie took their seats beside each other on it. A lounge chair loaded with articles of clothing, books, papers, and a wicker tray sat against the left pocket door. A tall bookcase, its shelves stuffed with everything, including a few books, filled the wall beside the doors. A highboy and a chiffonier filled the wall facing the doors, beside the fireplace.
Breathing rather shallow until she got used to the odor, Della said, “Mrs. Nelson…”
“It’s Miss, and it’s Neilson,” the woman corrected Della , and she apologized. “My father was Captain Jack Neilson, a ship’s captain, until he came home from his last voyage with some strange tropical fever. Doctors around here did all they could, but it didn’t do any good. He finally went mad, stark, raving mad. Had to be chained to his bed. He died the week of my fifteenth birthday. My stepmother, Elsa, stayed until my sixteenth birthday. Got up that morning – she’d left a note. Said I was old enough now to go to work. Left me a little money and the keys to the car. Been taking care of myself ever since. Not been easy, I’ll have you know.”
Della didn’t know what to say. “Did she just leave you and not come back?”
“Yep.”
“Miss Neilson, I was wondering if I might take off my wet shoes and dry my feet at your heater?”
“Of course, Mrs. Martin. Make yourself at home. I’ll get you a towel,” she offered, as she headed out the door.
“Mama, are you all right?” Addie asked in a low voice.
“I just need to get my feet dry,” she answered as she was removing her shoes and socks. “I feel rather chilled even though it’s unusually warm in here. I’ll be fine in a few minutes, when I get my feet dry.”
“I wish it would quit raining.” It was a steady rain now. “It’s probably going to rain all night.”
“It might,” Della said, as Miss Neilson came into the room and handed her a towel.
Della took the towel and began to dry her feet. “It’s so good of you to take us in, Miss Neilson.”
“Why don’t you call me Lettie, and I’m glad to have you. A body gets mighty lonesome when the weather is bad and you can’t get outside. Now I was about to fix me a little supper when you knocked on my door. I can make us a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s apple jelly. Make it myself from apples off a tree out back. Planted it myself. We can have an apple apiece too and a cup of tea or instant coffee. Keep a teakettle on top of the heater in the kitchen. Always have hot water. Need to add a little to it. We’ll have plenty then. How does that sound?”
“Some hot tea sounds great to me, Lettie,” Della said. “And please call me Della,” she added thinking she would have to replace the woman’s food if she ever got out of this place.
Addie was hungry. It was going on suppertime. “It sounds great to me too, Miss Lettie.”
“Have it ready in a jiffy. Make yourselves at home. Sure is good to have you. I’ve never had overnight company before,” she said, picking up the wicker tray from the pile of stuff on the lounge chair and took it with her into the kitchen.
Addie offered to help, but it was refused. By the time Della had her feet dry and her shoes and socks placed just so on the heater, hoping they would dry, Miss Neilson was back with the tray carrying their three cups of tea. “Don’t have any lemon or cream, but there’s sugar on the table there.”
Without lemon, Della didn’t want sugar, but Addie took some for her tea. “Have you always lived here, Miss Lettie,” she asked.
“Pa moved us here,” she said, as she sat on the edge of the lounge chair, her cup and saucer in her hand, “when I was ready for school. Up ‘til then, my stepmother, Elsa, and me lived in a boarding house in New York while Pa was at sea. Elsa didn’t like the landing. Wasn’t surprised when she left me. Fact is, would’ve been more surprised if she’d stayed. Was twelve houses on the landing when we moved here. Then that Baker family showed up one night in the middle of the river, their boat sinking and neither of them could swim.”
Wonder how long it’s been since she’s had someone to talk to? Della thought.
“Baker had come into some money, and had bought a house boat. Them, and their sixteen year old girl, had come down the river from where ever it was they lived. Not sure I ever knew where they came from. Right out there in the middle of that river, in the middle of the night, that boat began to sink. Never heard such screaming and yelling in all your days. Woke up the whole neighborhood. Gunnerson boys, and some of the men, who were here, rescued them. Gunnersons lived in the big house. They took the Bakers in. It was a mistake. Gunnerson had three boys – all in their
late teens. Baker got it in his head that one of them boys was sure to want to marry his girl. Decided he’d build a house on the landing.” She paused to drink some of her tea.
“Was only one house between us and the river then,” she continued. “Wilkins lived in it. Wilkins and all the other men warned Baker that it wasn’t safe to build any closer to the river, but he wouldn’t listen. Said Wilkins just didn’t want anybody between him and the water. Built himself a two- story house as big as the Gunnerson house. Made thirteen houses then – you know, a baker’s dozen.” She stopped for more tea.
“Baker had a big mouth – talked all the time. Got to calling the landing ‘Baker’s Landing’. Wasn’t long until the whole town was calling it that. People who lived here just called it the landing.
“Three years later, there came a heavy rain that lasted a whole week. Funny, but it had stopped raining the night it happened. Everybody was awakened in the middle of the night by a loud, rumbling, crashing noise. Baker’s house was sliding into the river and coming apart as it did.”
“Word got to Baker. He come barreling in here mad at everybody like some of us was responsible. Course, some folks said he’d been mad ever since he realized none of the Gunnerson boys was interested in marrying his girl, but I wouldn’t know about that,” she said.
“Should have been thankful they were not in the house when it happened, but not Baker. Tried to get revenge on the folks of the landing. Couldn’t prove it was Baker, but a couple of weeks later, woke up in the middle of the night to find the Wilkins’ house on fire. Fortunately, they wasn’t there at the time. Fire was on the river side, or the whole neighborhood would’ve burned down.
All the houses are made of wood, and all so close together. Took all the men on this end of town to put the fire out, and to save our house. Like I said. Baker did it, just couldn’t prove it.”
Della and Addie had enjoyed listening to Miss Neilson, and they told her so. “Time for sandwiches and more tea,” she said. “More water should be hot by now.”
Addie followed her into the kitchen. “Miss Lettie, tell us about the little house. Who lived in it? It looks only big enough for one person. And does somebody use it now?”
“Paul Gunnerson built the big house and the little house. They were summer folks like most the people of the landing. Nora Gunnerson was a beautiful woman. She was in a wheel chair. Her younger sister, Ellie Mae, lived with them and took care of the family. Them three boys would bring so many friends and cousins they’d fill that big house to bursting. It got to much for Ellie Mae, so Gunnerson built the little house for her. One winter Gunnerson died. The family never came back, but one summer Ellie Mae showed up and stayed in the little house until the Stonegate folks bought it. Ellie Mae loves the landing – didn’t want to leave it. She took the job of caring for the Simmons couple. They’re up in years now. Can’t do anything for themselves. They sleep a lot. Ellie Mae takes a breather when they take their afternoon naps – goes to the little house to soak in the tub and worship at Paul Gunnerson’s portrait. She was in love with her brother-in-law. Everybody knew it – even his wife,” she added.
“That Ryker fellow knows she uses it. She pays the light and water bills. Don’t suppose they mind.”
She was pouring more hot water in the cups and adding instant tea. “Don’t know what I’d do without Ellie Mae. She does my shopping when she does the Simmons. I go stay with the old couple while she’s gone. Guess we help each other.” She placed the cups on the tray with three sandwiches on paper towels, and three apples. She carried the tray to the table at the end of the daybed and sat it down.
The conversation turned to the weather while they ate. Then they each had one more cup of tea. Addie was still hungry, but she was glad to see her mother eat something. Miss Lettie was picking up cups and the tray when she said, “Listen! It’s stopped raining.”
“Yes. I believe it has. I hope it’s through for the night,” Della said.
“Me too,” Miss Lettie agreed. “Now, I turn in a might early for most folks, and I’ll confess my last cup of tea was not the same as yours,” she said to Della. It’s a special blend of herbs that I grow right out there on my back porch. Helps me to sleep nights. Either of you want some, I’ll fix it for you too.”
They declined her offer, but thanked her as she continued, “Now, at the top of the stairs, on the left, there is a room with a bed and a chair. That’s all. You should be able to sleep there. I’ll get you some sheets and pillows. Be right back.” And she left the room.
Della was putting on her shoes and socks. “Bless her heart. She probably hasn’t had anybody to talk to in ages.”
“I liked hearing about the little house and all of the rest she told us, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” Della agreed, and minutes later, they met Miss Lettie in the foyer with her arms loaded down with linens. They looked clean, but worn and smelling musty.
“Sorry I have only one blanket. Wish I had more. Living alone, you don’t need much. Never counted on overnight company. Don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a storm more. Sure hope you’ll come again. Bath is under the stairs there,” she said, pointing to a door, “and I’m going to get you a couple of candles in holders.”
Della assured her that they would be back to visit, as Addie took the armload of linens and pillows. “We’ll make out, Miss Lettie, and we certainly do thank you for your hospitality.”
“Hope you have a good nights sleep. You wake up early and don’t hear me about, but want to get on your way, feel free to do so.”
They thanked her again. She brought them two lit candles. They each visited the bathroom under the stairs and were soon on their way up the creaky stair steps.
The foyer and stairs were cool and drafty, and Addie saw the reason as soon as she entered the room on the left, at the top of the stairs. A windowpane was missing from the bare window across the room and a cool, damp wind was blowing in. The floor was wet where it had rained in. This would never do, she thought, dumping the armload down on the soiled, lumpy looking, mattress. The one chair was a straight back, but its’ back and seat were upholstered. She carried the chair to the window, but found the window ledge kept it from meeting with the window to cover the hole. She turned to see the miserable, hopeless look on her mother’s face, and she felt so guilty for getting them into such a situation. There was a door across the hall. She’d look in that room – see what it had to offer.
The candle shed little light, but there was an old iron bed without a mattress, and the mate to the other chair. Then she saw the draperies at the one window. They won’t be there long, she thought, as she placed the candle, in its pewter holder, on the floor, grabbed the chair and headed for the window. Just touching the draperies made the dust fly, and her sneeze. She’d have to handle them more gently, with as little movement as possible.
Carefully, she laid one panel on the bare floor and folded it gently into the shape and size of the empty window frame across the hall. She carried it to the missing window, stuffed part of it into the hole and pushed the back of the chair against the folded wad of material. It held. At least no more damp, cold wind on her mother.
“Thanks, honey,” Della said as she was spreading the blanket on top of the sheets.
“Back in a moment,” Addie said as she picked up her candle again and went to carefully pick up the other drapery panel. Della was taking off her shoes and leaving her socks on to get into bed when Addie returned. She tucked her mother in and covered the bottom half of the bed with the drapery. “This should keep our feet and legs warmer,” she explained as she blew out one candle, placed the other one on the floor just in case her mother needed to go to the bathroom before it burned down, and prepared to join Della.
She slid in between the musty smelling sheets and snuggled up spoon fashion to her mother. Even though it was early, it wasn’t too long until Della’s even breathing told Addie that she was asleep, and Addie was worried because she was so very tired. The
n she found that she too was drowsy. She was wondering if Miss Lettie even knew that the window was missing, when she heard it – a rattling noise. Now what? She wondered.
It seemed to come from across the hall. She had shut the door to that room. But there it was again. Rats? How could rats make a rattling sound? It was definitely a metal sound. Must be the wind somehow. It would stop. But the third time it seemed louder and it didn’t seem to be going to stop this time. But it was going to wake her mother.
Addie eased out of the bed, wrapped the blanket and sheet around Della, picked up the candle, crept out of the room and across the hall to the closed door. It definitely was in this room. She stopped before opening the door, afraid to open it. What a racket. That was loud enough to wake the dead! Well, she had to put a stop to it, whatever it was. She eased the door open slowly. She could see the window. The moon was shinning in the bare window giving some light to the room. She pushed the door a little farther. She moaned in disbelief of what she saw. “Mama is not going to like this,” she mumbled.
Chained to the iron bed was the figure of a bearded, older man in a uniform, the uniform of a ship’s captain from another time, and she could see right through him. He was banging the chain, that held him to the bed, against the floor. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
He seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him. “Banging this blasted chain on this floor to get my Lettie’s attention. Who are you?” His words were not audible. She heard them in her mind, as she had those of Julian Dane’s.
“Please don’t do it anymore. You’ll wake my mother, and she’s not feeling well. And you’ll never wake Miss Lettie. She takes an herb that makes her sleep.” Addie paused for a thoughtful moment. “And I have a feeling that I’m the only person who can hear you, or you would have already awakened them. Do you do this every night, Captain Neilson?”
“Yes. If you can see me, and hear me, why can’t my Lettie?”
The Daughters of Julian Dane Page 30
