by Jane Toombs
The writing grew less legible as Tabitha became less and less in touch with reality, culminating in the piteous recording of Tabitha wandering the grounds searching for her "other child."
"Micah is my darling boy, but how can I enjoy him until his lost twin is found? By night the lost one calls to me in the darkness. By day they lie to me and say there is no other child. I hate them all, even Alicia who once was my friend."
There were no further entries in this particular journal, though, according to the old ladies, there were others.
Had Delores read these same entries and worried when she was pregnant with Samara and Sergei? Or hadn't she been superstitious? Sister Mathilde was right--legends and myths are in the same category with superstitions, tales that need not be taken seriously.
I may have heard the same words as Tabitha when I arrived at Hallow House, she told herself, but anyone might have read this journal. Someone was either playing a cruel joke or trying to frighten off the nurse who'd come to take care of Johanna.
Superstition aside, the reality was grim enough. What might have happened behind the black door if John hadn't heard the baby's cries and come to their rescue? Would either she or Johanna be alive now? Who wanted them dead? The shiver she'd repressed earlier returned with double force.
Feeling very much alone, she went into the nursery and, seeing Johanna was waking up, gathered the baby into her arms and held her close.
"All we have is each other," she murmured. If only John were here she wouldn't be so afraid. Wouldn't be alone and afraid. Not of myths and legends but of someone at Hallow House.
At dinner time Vera left Johanna with Adele and Theola. The baby had been fed and greeting the old ladies with a smile.
When she reached the dining room, she noticed a stranger at the table. No one offered an introduction but when he caught her glance, he nodded and, half-rising from his chair, murmured, "William Grosbeck."
The twins' tutor. Not old at all, as she'd suspected, perhaps Vincent's age. He was quite attractive with blonde hair and blue eyes.
"I'm Vera Morgan," she told him. "Johanna's nurse."
"How is the child?"
"She's gaining weight. I think she'll be back to normal soon."
"That's good to hear."
Marie gave a sharp laugh. "How can anyone ever believe that baby will ever be normal?"
Vera's mouth tightened. "Johanna is as intelligent as any six-month-old. Perhaps more. She is not mentally retarded. Physically, yes--due to malnutrition which is rapidly disappearing."
"You sound like a textbook," Vincent said. "Retardation, malnutrition."
"How fortunate you've come to be Johanna's nurse," Mr. Grosbeck said. "You're already proving your efficiency."
"Thank you," Vera said, wondering why a tutor should feel called upon to compliment her on her nursing care. He sounded almost lord-of-the-manorish. Vincent's raised eyebrows told her that he'd also noticed.
"I wasn't talking about intelligence," Marie said. "Why do you all try to cover up what that unnatural child has already done? She killed Delores are surely as if she'd held the knife. You all know it's true, you all know Johanna can reads minds, can influence people. It that isn't abnormal, what is, for God's sake?"
Vera couldn't believe her ears. Glancing around the table she saw Samara's head ducked down, hair covering her face. Sergei smiled wryly and shook his head.
Stan leaned forward and spoke to Marie. "So you sense the psychic currents, too. His voice held a certain satisfaction. "Are you by any chance a sensitive?"
Marie looked at him blankly. "I've no idea. What's a sensitive?"
He waved impatient hands. "Someone who communicates with unseen forces, who can feel their presence."
"I never have before," Marie said. "Not until I came to Hallow House. Since Johanna was born. Why won't the rest of you admit what she is?"
"I've already explained to John and Vera that the baby is a witch," Stan said calmly. "Is that what you mean?"
"Come now, Stanley," William Grosbeck said. "Witches don't exist. I realize some people may believe that they are witches, but Johanna can hardly be guilty of that error at her age."
"Witches have always existed," Stan countered. "I don't mean three old crones about a bubbling cauldron on Macbeth's heath. I'm referring to individuals who are born with special powers--I believe Johanna to be one such. I was told her great-grandmother, the legendary Tabitha, had the characteristic gray witch eyes. Note Johanna's--a true silver-gray. with no blue in the iris at all."
Vera had heard this before and considered it superstitious nonsense. Though she'd meant to curb her tongue, she opened her mouth to speak.
Marie beat her to it. "Well, maybe so, but Delores was no more a witch than I am," Marie said. "I can't understand how she could possibly have had a baby like Johanna."
"Half of the baby's genes come from the Gregorys, which means, of course, also from Tabitha Woodward. And she, as we all know, was odd, to say the least." Stan looked around the table as though to solicit agreement.
"I've heard enough of this discussion," Vincent said bluntly. "I've seldom listened to a more ridiculous lot of twaddle. I fear the rest of us have become quite bored with it."
William Grosbeck nodded his agreement.
Stan shrugged, spread his hands and went back to his dinner.
Marie glared at Vincent, but said nothing more.
Vera, trying to eat, thought her stomach didn't yet feel completely settled, soon became conscious of Will Grosbeck's gaze. He seemed to be watching her. Heading off unease by a mild confrontation, she asked, "Are you staying at Hallow House, Mr. Grosbeck?"
He shook his head. "I have my own place in the hills near here. I find I need solitude to complete my book."
"You're writing a novel?"
"No, not a novel." His tone indicated his distaste for fiction. "What I'm attempting to do is a definitive study of the Bokninuwad tribe, a division of the Yokut."
"He's talking about Indians," Sergei put in. "The ones who live around here on the reservation."
"I didn't realize there was a nearby reservation," Vera said, thinking of Tabitha being accosted by "a savage" so many years ago on the grounds of Hallow House.
"The Tule Indian Reservation," Will said. "Part of my study explores the social configuration resulting from reservation living compared to--"
"Please, Will, another time," Vincent begged. "I really can't face hearing about the Yokut this evening. Save your thesis to impress the charming Miss Morgan at some future date." He grinned at Vera.
Will flushed and she felt sorry for him, pedantic though he might be. "I'd be interested to hear about your Indian study some other time," she told him.
He nodded, saying nothing more.
As they left the table, Vera noticed Stan take Sergei aside and hear him tell the boy he had time this evening. "If you're still interested, that is."
Apparently Sergei was because he followed Stan.
After Vera collected Johanna from Adele and was closing the door to the old ladies' suite, she looked up to see Samara. The baby caught sight of her sister and smiled. Samara smiled back at her, then ducked her head and tried to hurry past.
"You didn't eat much dinner," Vera said. "In fact, practically nothing. Do you feel all right?"
"I'm fine, I'm okay," Samara muttered.
"I'll admit the conversation at the table almost took away what little appetite I had," Vera said. "I hope you weren't upset by it."
Samara shook her head. "I've heard Uncle Stan talk lots of times."
"Is he your real uncle?"
"No, a courtesy one. Uncle Vincent is our only real uncle. If his twin had lived, we'd have had two."
"Vincent was a twin?"
"Yes. The other was Vladimir, but he got bit by a rattlesnake when he was two and he died. My brother and I are the first twins in the family who've survived this long."
What a morbid thought. Samara would be far better off at
a boarding school, away from the atmosphere at Hallow House. Some ought to tell John so. Maybe she would do that when he returned.
"Have you and Sergei ever been away to school?" she asked.
"No. Mother didn't want us to leave her. And Daddy says the public schools in the area are too far and not well thought of. So Mr. Grosbeck teaches us."
"Was he always your tutor?"
Samara's expression grew more animated. "We used to have Nana when we were little. Not really our grandmother, but old like one. "She was nice. But then she got sick and had to go into a hospital. Then Miss DuBois came. She was pretty and really friendly and she took us all sorts of places because she could drive a car. Sergei liked her even more than I did and everything was wonderful for a while."
Samara sighed. "But I guess Mother didn't like her. What she said was Miss DuBois wasn't teaching us anything-- she was, really--so she had to leave two years ago. Aunt Adele says Miss DuBois was too pretty and Mother didn't want Daddy and Uncle Vincent paying attention to her. Mother liked Mr. Grosbeck lots better."
Adele ought to keep her mouth shut, Vera thought
"Would you like to help me put Johanna to bed?" she asked Samara.
The girl darted a quick, seemingly fearful glance around. "Maybe I could."
While Sergei acted his age, or older, Samara acted younger than she was. Vincent had hinted she couldn't keep up with her brother. If that was true, all the more reason to think about a boarding school for her.
"Johanna really is fatter," Samara said when they were in the nursery and the baby Vera had disrobed the baby for her bath. "And her rash is all gone." She gave Vera a grateful look.
"Would you like to bathe her?" Vera asked.
"Could I? I never did, I was afraid to. Mother wouldn't even let me feed Johanna her bottle."
How strange. A teen-aged girl would have been a lot of help caring for a baby.
"I wasn't Mother's favorite, like Sergei was," Samara added. "Sometimes I thought she didn't like Johanna either."
"Was Sergei allowed to feed the baby?"
Samara nodded. "Mother let him do anything he wanted to. It's because he's smarter than me and stronger and better looking." Her voice was flat, without any emotion.
"I think you're every bit as pretty a girl as he is handsome for a boy," Vera said. "I'd certainly expect him to be stronger--men are usually stronger than women. As for intelligence, it could be that the two of you have different interests."
"Maybe." Samara didn't looked convinced. "Sergei can keep at things longer than I can, though. He's got more--I guess it's will power. He says I'm just not a leader."
Vera liked what she was hearing less and less. No wonder Samara was always trying to hide behind her hair.
"So you're his follower?"
"Sometimes, yes, maybe most of the time." She glanced at Vera, then quickly away.
"You don't have to lead or follow, you know," Vera said gently. "You can try just being yourself."
Samara didn't answer, concentrating on the baby. After a few minutes she said, "Johanna's getting so cute. Don't you think so?"
"She's a little sweetheart."
"I wish you'd stay. She really needs you."
Vera smiled. "I plan to stay."
Samara swallowed. "You won't be able to," she said. "Nobody wants you here."
Chapter 16
In the nursery, Vera stared at Samara as the girl thrust the baby at her. "What do you--?" she stared to say.
"I have to go," Samara cried. She rushed to the door, shot the bolt, opened the door and fled down the hall. Holding Johanna, Vera shut and rebolted the nursery door before sitting in the rocker with the baby. As she absently crooned a lullaby, she tried to understand what Samara had meant about no one wanting a nurse here. Because surely, it had to do with the fact she was a nurse. Johanna's nurse.
She'd already realized at least one person didn't want Johanna protected. But Samara had included everyone. Was that true?
On the personal side, Marie might wish Vera Morgan would leave, but did that have anything to do with Johanna? Vera didn't think so. She'd decided Marie disliked her because she was young. She was almost certain if she'd been middle-aged, Marie wouldn't mind a bit if she were Johanna's nurse. For some reason, her youth was a threat to the woman. Why? Because Marie was eager to marry either one of the Gregory men and wanted no possible competition? Though Vera didn't feel she was competition, Marie obviously did.
How about Stan? Vera couldn't believe he cared one way or the other whether she stayed or left.
Vincent had already tried to lure her away, probably for his own reasons. But she'd have to leave a question mark here.
Sergei had given no indication he didn't want her at Hallow House. She'd been rather touched that he'd shown her his mother's room.
In one breath Samara had wanted her to stay, in the next she was telling Vera nobody wanted her here. Something was clearly bothering the girl, otherwise why did she flee so precipitously?
Adele and Theola? Other than the fact they'd warned her in their own way not to become a Gregory bride, what reason would they have to resent her?
John. What did he think about her presence in his house? Vera couldn't believe he'd want her gone.
Once the baby fell asleep, Vera checked both the doors to make certain they were locked, then took her worries to bed with her. Despite this, sleep overwhelmed her immediately.
She woke to a sunny morning with fragments from an unpleasant dream clinging to the edges of her mind. She was glad she couldn't make any sense of them--to remember a bad dream was to experience it twice.
After they'd both eaten, she took Johanna outside for the first time. Jose had unearthed an old baby carriage which Blanche had cleaned so Vera felt like an English nanny pushing an entranced Johanna along the cobblestones of the front walk.
That turned out to be the high point of an uneventful day that passed slowly. It wasn't until evening that she realized she was waiting for John. Time seemed to suspend itself while he was gone. But he didn't return that day, nor the next.
On Saturday the fog came back. In the morning, Vera found a wall of gray outside her bedroom window when she pulled open the shade. The fog seemed to settle like weight atop the house and Vera felt a corresponding heaviness inside herself.
Johanna woke fussy and stayed that way, worrying Vera. The only time the baby stayed quiet is if she was held. After eating a hurried breakfast with Johanna in her lap, Vera didn't go down at all for lunch, even though she'd finally got the baby to sleep, because she didn't want to leave her. Irma personally brought her up a roast beef sandwich and coffee later.
"Wanted to make sure this didn't get tampered with," Irma told her grimly when Vera opened the door to her knock.
"I do appreciate it, but you didn't have to go to so much trouble," Vera told her as Irma set the tray on her dresser.
Irma clucked her tongue. "I know who does the work around here. You more than earn your keep, unlike some others we've had." She struck a pose, hands lifted breast high, head tilted to one side, and began to talk in a high- pitched voice, speaking the words with a deadly sweetness. "Oh, Irma, if you could fix us just a tiny little picnic lunch--sandwiches, a simple salad, perhaps a teeny dessert. We'll need something to drink--iced tea would be nice. And fruit of course. You will have it ready by ten, won't you?"
Vera couldn't help smiling. "I get the picture, though I'm not sure who you mean."
Irma's voice dropped to her normal range. "You weren't here then. That was Annette DuBois with all her fancy airs. Thought she'd land Mr. Vincent, but she didn't. Liked the men, she did--rolling her eyes at Mr. John as well. The missus sent her packing."
"I did hear a Miss DuBois had been the twin's tutor."
"I'm not saying Mr. Vincent didn't go along with her ways," Irma went on. "We all thought he sort of fancied her. Still, he never said a word when she left. Unless that's who he goes to see in Frisco. I wouldn't put it past
her to let him visit her there--she was an out and out hussy."
"Samara said she and Sergei liked Miss DuBois."
"She was nice enough to them, give the devil his due.
I doubt much teaching got done, though, what with all them outings. Mr. Grosbeck makes them toe the line, like as not they're not so fond of him on account of it."
"Samara did mention that her mother liked him."
Irma flashed her a quick glance. "The less said about that the better. Still, it's all over now." She sighed. "How's the little one?"
"She's sleeping. She has a slight fever. I hope I won't have to take her to a doctor."
"Likely she's teething," Irma said. "My little ones were always miserable then. Don't fass yourself. If you want your dinner on a tray, you let me know and I'll bring it to you."
Vera's thanks was heartfelt. "I'll try to come down for dinner," she added.
After Irma left, Vera sorted out her impressions as she ate. Had William Grosbeck and Delores had an affair as Irma had hinted? If John thought so, perhaps that's why he imagined Johanna wasn't his. The baby was fair, like William....
Vera shook her head, telling herself she had no right to speculate, yet she couldn't shake her thoughts. If he and Delores had been estranged for some time, if Delores had been consoling herself with another man, this would explain John's lack of grief....
Stop it! Because you're already in love with John, don't encourage yourself to believe he feels the same. Delores has been dead no more than two months and she was his wife for sixteen years. Besides, you know how well John usually controls his emotions. No matter how he feels he wouldn't sit around and mope. You have no idea what he maybe going through.
Because she had nothing else to distract her--she really must borrow some books from the library--Vera decided to risk visiting the two old ladies so she could exchange Tabitha's first journal for another one.
When she returned, Johanna was whimpering so she set the journal aside and picked up the baby. Sitting in the rocker, she ran her forefinger over the baby's gums and, sure enough, both lower regions near the molars were hot and swollen. On the left side, one edge of a tooth scraped against her finger.
