by Jane Toombs
"You're cutting teeth, little one," she said soothingly. "Another day and they'll pop through. You'll feel better then. It's high time you got some teeth, you know."
By dinner time, Johanna had been bathed and fed and was sleeping again, so Vera went down to the dining room, hurrying back as soon as she finished, carrying Johanna's next bottle and a small bottle of oil of cloves that Irma had given her.
"For teething," Irma had told her. "Rubbed it on my little one's gums--worked like a charm."
In her room, Vera had no sooner settled down to read the second journal, this one with a green plush cover, than Johanna began whimpering. Vera decided the oil of cloves couldn't hurt the baby and might help her. Bringing the journal with her and laying it within easy reach of the rocker, she picked up the baby, sat down and tried Irma's remedy, using her finger to rub on the dark, fragrant oil. After a bit, the baby quieted, snuggling against Vera. She picked up the journal and began reading the now familiar script.
"March 14, 1872. Hallow House has survived a terrible earthquake, leaving my prayers for its destruction unanswered. A great crack in the front parlor ceiling was the only lasting damage."
Vera rocked the baby and read on. Tabitha rarely mentioned her son Micah, dwelling instead on the lost one and speaking of secret journals she kept hidden. Once she spoke of Alicia's "little daughter Celia," making Vera wonder if this was the Celia that Micah had grown up to marry.
Her eyelids kept drooping and, finally the book slid to the floor and, holding Johanna close, fell asleep in the rocker...
She knew she was shut in a featureless room with gray walls. She disliked being even though aware she was safe as long as she stayed inside. A knocking began, low and persistent, and she realized someone wanted in. Danger waited outside the gray walls, it would be folly to answer the tapping, and yet she longed to...
Vera woke with a start, her heart thumping so hard she could feel the pulse in her throat. Someone at the door? She sat frozen a moment, sorting dream from reality. Finally she lay the sleeping baby in the crib and walked to the door of her room, flicking on the dresser lamp as she passed.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"John."
Vera's breath caught. She twisted the key and opened the door.
"I thought you had the other key," she said as he entered.
He closed the door. "I didn't want to frighten you by using it."
"I'm so glad you're back, she blurted, trying not to stare at him, afraid her feeling for him would show.
"Vera," he said, tilting her chin so she had to look at him.
A thrill shot through her at his touch.
"I'm going to have to send you away." He spoke gently, but the words hit her like blows.
"Why?" she managed to ask.
"Because someone means you ill. I'm afraid of what will happen to you if you stay here."
"Who is it?" she cried.
"I wish I knew. Someone here. It could even be a member of my family."
"You can't send me away. What will become of Johanna?"
"I'll find another nurse for her. She's not the important one--you are."
"But don't you see?" she said desperately. "If I go Johanna won't be safe. Another nurse won't realize what might happen. Another nurse won't, won't.... To her distress she burst into tears.
John put his arms around her. "I can't let anything happened to you."
She pulled back, tears streaking her face. "How will you feel if Johanna is--if she dies? Someone wants her dead. Please, don't you see?"
"Oh God," he said and caught her to him. He kissed her and his lips were so warm and tender she melted against him, wanting to stay in his arms forever.
His arms tightened around her, his kiss seeking something from her she was completely willing to give. Strange new sensations uncurled inside her.
When his lips moved to her throat, sending a series of electric shocks along her nerves, she forgot everything but him. "I love you," she whispered in his ear.
He released her abruptly and strode to the window where he pushed the shade aside to look out into the foggy night. "I can't marry you," he said without turning.
Vera, already feeling bereft, put a hand to her heart. Marriage? She hadn't thought as far ahead as marrying John, thought about becoming Johanna's mother in earnest.
"I'll never marry again," he added.
Pulling herself together as best she could, Vera stammered, "I--I know the thought of Delores' death must--"
He spun around and glared at her. "Don't speak of Delores."
Her face flushed. "I'm sorry."
What a fool she'd made of herself by blurting out that she loved him. All he'd wanted to do was kiss her and now she'd ruined even that, embarrassing both of them.
"I want you to leave as soon as possible," he said.
Her chin thrust up and she looked him in the eye. "I won't go until there's someone else to take care of Johanna. Someone I can talk to before I leave. Someone I trust."
"I don't think you understand," he said.
"You're wrong. I understand quite well. You don't need to worry, there'll be no repeat of--of tonight." She looked away, afraid she might begin to cry again. "As far as I'm concerned you don't even have to talk to me."
He sighed.
"We all make mistakes," she added, holding onto her composure with iron will. "I try not to repeat mine."
"Nor I mine," he said. "I'll attempt to find a replacement for you immediately." With one hand on the doorknob, he paused. "Vera, I--I’m--"
"Good night," she said firmly. After she'd locked the door behind him, she flung herself onto her bed and cried until no more tears came.
In the morning, Vera woke early and discovered Johanna had cut two teeth, lower incisors on each side. With that accomplished, the baby was her own happy self again.
"Aren't you the clever one," Vera told her, wondering how she could bear to leave her.
Forcing back tears, she busied herself getting both Johanna and herself ready for breakfast. She put on the blouse, she liked least, the white one, worn with the inevitable black skirt, and yanked her hair more tightly than usual into her braids.
After she'd fed Johanna in the kitchen, she found she was still a bit early for breakfast. Geneva carried the high chair into the dining room and, while she was putting Joanna into it, Marie came in--the first one to arrive.
"Don't look so surprised," Marie said. :I occasionally get to meals on time," She wore a long, flowing gown of pale yellow and looked very attractive.
Vera, all the more conscious of her utilitarian appearance told herself it didn't matter. Not any more.
"I must say you look washed-out this morning," Marie went on. "Have a late night?" She smiled knowingly.
"I'm fine."
"I thought perhaps you didn't get enough sleep."
She must have seen John come to my door last night, Vera decided, and had reached the wrong conclusion. Which made no difference any more.
"Johanna cut two teeth," she said. "Would you like to see?"
Marie held up her hands. "Spare me."
John came in next with Stan.
"You're home!" Marie cried, "What a pleasant surprise." Vera couldn't help but wonder if Marie ever spoke honestly to anyone.
"I came in late," John said. "The fog was nasty."
"What's going on in the city?" Marie asked. "Did you do anything exciting?"
"Business meetings only, I'm afraid."
"Oh, come on, you can't fool me. Vincent told me--"
John cut in coldly. "I suggest you shut up."
Marie lowered her head, but not before Vera saw her satisfied smirk.
If he did have a woman in San Francisco, Vera thought, more fool she. What did it matter? She had to leave anyway. Nothing mattered.
Sergei and Samara sat in their places and, last of all, Vincent.
"Ho, the prodigal son hath returneth," he said to John. "Or no, I have that wrong. I believe
the prodigal son is my role. I must see to going out into the world and spending my talents."
John eyed him grimly. "Any time."
Stan poked John's arm.
"Don't pay any attention to Stan," John told Vincent. "He'll tell you times are bad. But my offer holds. Just let me know."
"Not quite yet," Vincent replied. "But I'll keep it in mind."
Though she was aware of the undertones, Vera wasn't sure what to make of the exchange. Samara, across from her, kept her face down so it was hidden by her hair, as usual. Vera felt a pang of regret that she wouldn't be around to try to help the girl. She would, though, try to talk to John about a boarding school before she said goodbye to Hallow House.
Johanna banged her spoon on the high chair tray. "Mama," she said clearly.
No one spoke for a moment, then John said, "Miss Morgan will be leaving us after Christmas."
Those at the table remained silent.
"I called Sister Mathilde this morning," he went on. "She can't send a replacement before then. I thought it best to make the announcement to you all ahead of time." As he spoke, his gaze went from one face to another, sliding past Vera without meeting her eyes.
Vincent winked at her. "Smart girl. Will you be going back to San Francisco?"
“I don't yet know," she answered. Actually she had no choice. But she didn't want to think about leaving Hallow House and Johanna.
And John.
Chapter 17
The next day Vincent was gone, with nobody knowing just when he'd left or where he'd gone. November became December and still he didn't return.
"Vincent goes his own way," was John's only comment. December was foggy, sunny and cool in turn and the days slipped past while Johanna grew plumper, more like a seven- month old should look. Her hair had grown enough to form a blonde halo and even Marie admitted the baby was "beginning to look human."
Since the announcement about Vera leaving, Marie's attitude toward her had changed, becoming almost amiable. Vera found it easier to respond in a friendly fashion than to bear a grudge and the result was, whether she wanted to be or not, she became Marie's confidante.
One afternoon near Christmas, Marie knocked on her door and asked her to help go through the tree decorations to have them ready for Christmas Eve, complaining that no one else cared enough to give her a hand. Vera invited her in. Christmas had always been important to Vera and her father. She'd enjoyed every moment of the preparations and it was hard for her to believe the twins wouldn't want to be a part of it.
"Have you asked Samara and Sergei?" she said to Marie.
Marie shrugged. "Samara said she might help. Sergei says he's too busy. He's always involved in some project or another. He's picking Stan's brains these days--all that occult nonsense. John doesn't seem to notice. If Vincent was here he'd put a stop to it." She glanced at Vera. "It's just as well he isn't, though."
"Why?"
"They don't get along, Vincent and John. There's always tension in the house when they're both here. Delores told me Celia made a pet out of Vincent, in contrast to his twin Vladimir. Then when Vladimir died and Celia burned to death, the nanny they got for Vincent spoiled him rotten. Everyone felt sorry for the poor little boy who'd lost both his twin and his mother."
"Celia was John's mother, too."
"Yes, but John was eight when the twins were born and was expected to be nice to them. It seems Celia blamed John for Vladimir getting bit by that rattlesnake. Which reminds me--I think that stuffed snake you found in Johanna's crib was that very rattler. Delores told me once that Micah had had it preserved after it was killed."
"No!" Vera was horrified. "What a thing to do."
Marie shrugged. "Anyway, when they were kids, John must have resented Vincent being everyone's favorite. Then later on what Delores did was no help."
Marie paused and eyed Vera. "I suppose I shouldn't tell you all this, but there isn't anyone in this damn place to talk to with Vincent gone. I fight with him, but at least that's something."
"How long have you lived here?"
"Five years, God forbid. Delores asked me to come to keep her company. She had her good points. We'd never been close, but she knew I was in a bad way financially. We were only second cousins, but she'd didn't have any other relatives except for an old grandmother or great-uncle or something. Yes, Delores was okay. She should've known better than to get involved with Vincent, though. Poor taste, bad manners-- right in the same house with John."
This information shocked Vera more than Micah stuffing the snake that had killed his son. All she could do was shake her head.
"Oh, yes," Marie assured her. "The word for Delores was nymphomaniac. She just couldn't stay away from men. Vincent was certainly not the first, merely the handiest. Until Willie came along. She and John had a huge row over Willie. I guess that's when she found out he knew about Vincent, too. The upshot was that Willie stayed on as the twin's tutor but had to move out of the house. Delores went around cursing John for weeks after she knew she was pregnant."
Vera couldn't make the connection. "Why?"
Marie laughed. "She claimed he raped her because he was angry--her own husband. Can you believe it? The funniest part of the whole thing is he's convinced Johanna isn't his. Now she may have played around, but she did so carefully--you know? You must, since you're a nurse. Johanna is John's baby all right--practically over Delores' dead body." Marie's smile faded and she put her hands to her lips. "I didn't mean--that is, I wasn't referring to her suicide."
Vera changed the subject, not wanting to hear any more. "Do you think Vincent will be back for Christmas?"
"Are you interested in him?"
"No, not at all."
"Because he's bad news. I wish I didn't--" Marie stopped and began a different sentence. "Vincent gambles away every cent he gets from the business. Luckily Micah's will left John in control and he sees Vincent doesn't get too much at one time. Another thing--Vincent has a rotten temper. I'd steer clear of him if I were you."
Deciding it didn't matter any more if she admitted it, she said, "He asked me to go away with him once."
"And you said no? Well, of course you did. You're still starry-eyed about love. I'm old enough to know money's more important, But Vincent's no good either way." She sighed. "I don't think he's capable of loving anyone. But he does hold grudges. Come to think of it, if you turned him down, some of this crazy stuff going on here may have been his way of retaliating. Scaring you."
Vera gaped at her. "Do you really think so?"
Marie nodded. "I don't put much past Vincent. Don't forget Delores was his brother's wife--it wasn't only Delores who was to blame."
Is that why nothing has happened to Johanna during the past few weeks? Vera asked herself.
She'd thought it was the locked door and her vigilance, but just maybe she and Johanna were safe with Vincent away.
Two days later, on the twenty-fourth, Vera confronted John. They'd all said their farewells to Stan, who was returning to New York, and she knew John was driving him to Tulare to catch the train. She waited until John came back and cornered him in the library where the radio was playing Christmas carols.
"We three kings of Orient are," a choral group sang.
"I think I know who's been frightening me," she said.
John looked startled. "Who is it?
"Vincent."
John stared at her.
She hurried on. "You didn't know, but soon after I arrived, he asked me to leave here with him and I turned him down. I didn't--I couldn't believe he was serious, and even if he had been I wouldn't have accepted."
"He propositioned you?"
"Following yonder star," the voices sang.
Vera nodded. "Marie told me Vincent is the kind of person who never forgets or forgives. Isn't it possible he's tried to scare me away from here to get rid of me, so he wouldn't have to face my rejection of him?"
She could feel her face flushing, but plowed determinedly on. "N
ow that he'd been all this month, not a thing has happened to either Johanna or to me. To test my theory, I've even left Johanna alone for short periods when she wasn't behind locked doors. No one tried to harm her. Of course, I was really watching from a hiding place."
"I told everyone you'd be leaving so you'd be safe," John said. "That's why you have been."
"Vincent heard you," she pointed out. "He knew he'd won so he left Hallow House until I was gone. Why won't you listen to me?"
John shook his head. "There's no real proof. And it's not like Vincent."
"Sorrowing, sighing, breathing, dying," sang the chorus.
"I don't want to leave here," she said.
"Sealed in stone cold tomb," a baritone soloed while the other voices harmonized in the background.
"Sister Mathilde says your replacement will be here January first." John's voice was matter-of-fact. "She hopes you'll return to St. Sergius."
"This has been the Mormon Tabernacle Choir bringing you a Christmas Eve program of--" John clicked the knob and shut off the radio.
Vera looked away from him, the ache in her throat spreading until her whole chest hurt. Heartache, she thought. There may be no such thing in medicine and yet my heart does ache.
She'd meant to mention sending Samara to a boarding school to him, but she doubted she'd even be able to speak at this moment. Turning from him she marched from the room.
Dinner was early because everyone except Adele and Theola were going to help decorate the tree. Earlier Marie had cajoled John into making a party of it, saying she'd already invited William Grosbeck to stay over and had asked the servants to participate.
Despite everything, Vera felt a flutter of anticipation. A Christmas tree carried the promise of unexpected delights. And the huge pine dominating the living room would make a fabulous one.
Across the table from her, she noticed Samara's eyes sparkling. "Excited?" she asked the girl.
"I can hardly wait to--" Samara broke off abruptly, her gaze going past Vera.
