The Haunting Of Bechdel Mansion

by Roger Hayden

  Curtis jokingly scoffed. “We’re trying to fit in. It’s that simple.” He slowed the car and turned into the parking lot as Mary’s could feel her heart rate increasing. The church seemed inviting enough, maybe it would be good for them. She knew that she needed to shake off her suspicions and embrace the small-town life before them. Something, however, kept holding her back.

  They parked in the far corner where Curtis had found a spot. They exited the SUV and walked hand in hand toward the church where they could hear the faint hum of an organ playing inside. A sloped cement walkway with a railing running up the middle led to the double doors of the church, with two elegant door handles on each side. Curtis pulled the door open for Mary, revealing a red-carpeted lobby where an older woman was seated in one of two chairs separated by a glossy table with bouquet arrangement. The woman looked up and smiled at them, her white hair trim and her large glasses magnifying her pupils.

  Behind her was a window with vertical blinds open, revealing the backs of the congregation standing at the pews and holding hymnals and singing together. Mary approached the woman first as she stood, holding a leather-bound hymnal out for the taking.

  “Welcome to the First Christ Church of Redwood,” she said with a smile and hushed tone. “My name is Barbara.”

  Mary took the hymnal and introduced herself as Curtis approached from behind. A water cooler in the rear corner of the room bubbled. The surrounding white walls were adorned with paintings of historical saints and a door to the side led to a darkened room with books in the window identified as the Reading Room.

  Curtis shook Barbara’s hand and apologized for their tardiness. She waved him off and then told them that they could go inside once the hymnal was done.

  “You recently moved here, yes?” she asked.

  “We sure did,” Curtis answered.

  Barbara looked them over and then asked if they were the couple who had purchased the old mansion on Weatherford Lane.

  “That’s us,” Curtis said.

  “Wow,” Barbara commented. “I didn’t think anyone was going to buy that old place.”

  Curtis was quick to respond. “Trust me. It’s taken us a lot of work.”

  Barbara turned to Mary with a smile. “I hope you’re planning to stick around for the barbecue. It’s our first one this year.”

  “We’re looking forward to it,” Mary said.

  The signing died down and the congregation as the congregation took their seats. Barbara turned to the window and then approached the door to their right, opening for them. “Enjoy the service,” she said.

  Mary and Curtis thanked her as they walked inside, heads turning as they searched for a place to seat. Mary went immediately to the third pew to their right which had a spot right at the end. A stained-glass window shielded the bright rays of the sun and Mary looked ahead as the organist switched off the organ and Pastor Phil approached a podium overlooking the crowd. Curtis smiled at an older couple seated next to them as he sat with Mary at the end. They had made it this far, she thought. The worst was over. She sat there as the room went quiet and Pastor Phil, wearing a beige suit and blue tie adjusted his thin rectangular glasses from the podium while looking down at his marked bible below. He looked up and seemed to make sudden and direct eye contact with Mary, causing her to look down.

  The seated patrons consisted of adults of all ages, however, most of them older and gray. Pastor Phil spoke with clarity and conviction, and Mary could tell he had been doing this for a while. He gave blessings for the peaceful Sunday morning and then read from the scriptures, discussing faith and sacrament.

  “It is our duty to love one another while adhering to the message of our Lord and Savior.” He paused, holding a finger in the air. “Let us never forget the sacrifice bestowed upon us in this world of sin. Let us come together under the banner of truth and love, of which are natural elements of His plan.”

  As his sermon proceeded, Mary’s mind couldn’t help but wander. She thought of the diary back home and how she had neglected to do her due diligence and research everything she had checked out at the library. It had been an exhaustive, busy week and she couldn’t blame herself entirely. The pieces were there. All she had to do was to put them together. Pastor Phil continued on as his audience sat silent, seemingly captivated by his small-town charm and charisma. Mary could see that he was an experienced speaker with a smooth gravelly voice that invited calmness with his careful, measured words over the speakers in the ceiling.

  She looked around the room and its stained-glass windows, wondering how long the church had been around. Ultimately, she just wanted the entire affair to be over with. They were newcomers to the town and the thought of putting on a friendly face and making a good impression among strangers was nerve-racking in itself. Perhaps she wasn’t completely out of her funk just yet. She noticed an elderly couple turn their heads in unison from three pews ahead and make eye contact with her. They nodded as she smiled in response. She turned to Curtis whose eyes were forward, trying his best to pay attention to Pastor Phil’s seemingly endless sermon.

  On the wall next to the organ was small board with three hymn numbers listed on it. Pastor Phil took a step away from the podium, holding his own hymnal in hand and instructed the congregation to prepare to read from page 115. The organist began playing as the people rose from their pews. Mary and Curtis stood up as well, sharing the hymnal and signing in a barely audible tune. As the congregation broke out in chorus, it was clear that their arriving guests were new at this. Mary looked down at the page of as the words in the verse made little sense to her. Her lips moved, but barely a sound came out. It was going to be a long morning.

  ***

  The Sunday service had ended with most of the congregation convened in the field behind the church with picnic tables aligned and hot dogs and hamburgers smoking on a nearby grill. There were several families out, wearing their Sunday best. Children played together, running around with colorful streamers as Mary and Curtis made their way outside, slightly overwhelmed with close to a hundred people mingling together.

  Mary walked along with Curtis by her side, feeling almost invisible to everyone. Pastor Phil was talking to a young couple under a canopy which offered much-needed shade from the sun and waved at them to come over.

  They approached with Curtis outstretching his arm to shake Pastor Phil’s hand.

  “So nice of you two to make it,” Phil said with a tight, firm grip. He shook Mary’s hand more delicately while complimenting her dress.

  “Thank you,” she said. “We’re glad to be here.”

  Wearing dark shades, Phil signaled to the smoking grill as his smile extended. “I hope you brought your appetites. Looks like we have more than enough food.”

  “That’s great,” Curtis said. “Excellent sermon by the way.”

  Mary thought he was laying it on pretty thick, but Phil seemed to take the compliment in strides.

  “Thank you so much,” Phil said. He then looked at Mary, half expecting additional praise, and then signaled to the couple standing next to him. “This is Lucille and Steven Hardwick. They moved here roughly six months ago.”

  The attractive couple turned to Mary and Curtis and shook their hands. The woman was short and petite with long red hair and freckles. Her husband was much taller and lanky with curly blond locks. “Welcome to Redwood,” he said.

  “It’s a pleasure,” Curtis said. “I just love this town so far.” He looked at Mary as her tight-lipped smile began to wane. “We really struck gold with this find. That’s for sure.”

  “I heard you bought the old Bechdel mansion,” Steven said.

  “Sure did,” Curtis responded. “Looking to be the best investment we’ve made so far.”

  Suddenly, the woman, Lucille, took Mary’s hands in hers and spoke. “I simply have to show you around. These are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”

  Mary nodded and then looked to Curtis nervously as Lucille began to pull her a
way.

  “Go meet some of the folks,” Curtis said, clearly more interested in engaging the newly-introduced man before him. “Enjoy yourselves.”

  Mary reluctantly gave in and allowed Lucille to guide her to other couples as the aroma from the grill made her stomach growl. They approached a group of five women in their Sunday dresses standing around a picnic bench in the shade of a tall oak tree, fanning themselves in unison.

  “Ladies, this is Mary Malone,” Lucille said. “She just moved her from…” Lucille paused and turned to Mary. “Where is it that you’re from?”

  “Chicago,” Mary said to the group.

  The women nodded back with inviting smiles as Mary shook their hands. They were middle-aged, slightly older than her, and distinctively reserved like something out of the Victorian age. Their husbands, its seemed were gathered around the grill behind them, in their own huddled conversations full or cheer and laughter.

  The women introduced themselves accordingly as Trish, Ellen, Madison, Bridget, and Allison. They each had a fair amount of makeup on with sparkling earrings dangling from their hair lobes. Two of the women looked nearly identical in both physical appearance and clothing. They also both brandished sun hats and wore large designer sunglasses. Mary glanced at them a little too long, their shoulder-length auburn hair, slender necks and matching pearl necklaces, when Ellen, the woman to her right made a comment.

  “Yes, we’re twins,” she said. “But our matching wardrobes were not planned, I can assure you.”

  Her sister, Madison, tilted her head back with laughter, touching Mary’s hand. “Do you have any siblings?”

  “Yes,” Mary answered. “One brother and one sister.”

  Madison leaned in closer with a crooked smile. “So you can understand what it’s like. We’ve had this problem since we were children.” She paused, shrugging. “After a while, we just embraced it.”

  Mary was curious. “You mean to tell me that you dress alike without even realizing it.”

  Ellen Stepped in. “It’s like looking in a mirror sometimes, I tell you.”

  Madison waved her away as the other women laughed. “Of course, I’m the more attractive one.”

  Mary smiled as the group continued laughing. A pack of small kids ran past them with their dress clothes slightly downgraded. They were the same bunch she saw running with streamers only minutes ago. They were all boys, elementary school-aged, and that’s when it dawned on Mary that she hadn’t seen a single young girl in the crowd anywhere.

  “Tell me, Mary. How are you and your husband settling in?” the older of the women asked. Her gray hair was permed and she had a rose emblem pinned to the chest of the dark blue blazer over her flowered dress. Her face was caked in bronze make-up with dark mascara around her blue eyes. She had the brightest of bright red lipstick Mary had ever seen any woman wear. Her eyes remained on Mary with intense, unblinking focus.

  “Just fine,” Mary replied. “It’s been a very busy week and we’re just glad to get out and meet some of the townspeople.”

  “Tell me, love,” the woman named Bridget belted out suddenly. “What are you and your husband going to do with all that space?” She was a short frumpy woman whose eyes were also concealed behind dark sunglasses. As she had feared, Mary felt immediately uncomfortable with the question.

  “It-It’s daunting, that’s for sure,” she said.

  “What made the two of you want to move into that old place in the first place?” the woman asked with her hands out and chubby digits extended.

  “Bridget, please,” Lucille said.

  With the soft curls of her faux bob bouncing as she waved Lucille off, Bridget leaned closer to as though she were addressing Mary in confidence. “You do know what happened there, don’t you?”

  “Bridget! That’s enough,” Lucille said with conviction.

  Bridget paused and looked around at the faces of disapproval surrounding her. “Sheesh. It was just a question.”

  “What do you know about the Bechdels?” Mary asked abruptly to the group as a whole. She received stunned silence in return.

  “That’s not really appropriate church talk if you don’t mind,” Lucille said in a polite but stern tone. She then took Mary by the wrist and began to lead her away from the group as the women waved.

  “Don’t mind, Bridget,” Lucille said into Mary’s ear. “What she lacks in simple tact she makes up for it with some of the best peanut butter cookies this side of the state.”

  Mary turned back to glance at the women as she was guided through the crowd, faces growing blurry and ominous in their quick pace.

  “Here,” Lucille said. “I want to introduce you to some of the other ladies here.” They reached a group of outside the crowd sitting at a bench under another canopy setup, all older than the ones Mary had just been introduced too. They sipped from bottled water and with fruit plates resting before them displaying watermelon and strawberries. Their long, sleek, glittery dresses looked the height of elegance. Their jewelry added to the picture of prestige with golden necklaces, bracelets and earrings. Mary glanced down at her own arms realizing that she forgot to wear any jewelry at all. The small diamond on her wedding ring sparkled in the sunlight, the only thing she had to show for herself.

  The gray-haired woman, all but one who had fashioned an orange tint over her perm, looked up at Mary as she approached. They smiled as Lucille introduced her with enthusiasm.

  “Mary, these lovely ladies run the local chapter of the Redwood Women’s Association.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Mary said, shaking their hands one after the other. The generic name sounded prestigious enough, but Mary could tell just by their posture and demeanor alone that they fancied themselves as power players in their own regard.

  Sylvia, the woman introduced as the president of the local chapter, looked up at Mary and spoke with a low, scratchy voice.

  “You and your husband are quite the word around town,” a taller woman in the middle of the bench said, pulling out a cigarette from a silver case.

  “I suppose so,” Mary said. “I ran into Pastor Phil just the other week, and he seemed to already know our names.”

  Sylvia shrugged and lit her cigarette as a bearded man with an acoustic guitar took center stage fifty feet from them on a wood platform with haystacks behind him. Lucile turned to the stage and signaled Mary to follow. It appeared as though she didn’t like to be in one spot for too long.

  “You have to hear Randy play. He’s so great!”

  Mary waved to the table of apparent aging socialites as they waved back. A sizeable crowd had already gathered around the stage, plastic plates in hand, digging into their grilled grub. The flannel-wearing guitarist stepped aside and introduced Pastor Phil who soon took the stage to enthusiastic applause.

  “Welcome all. Thank you for being here,” he said with his arms outstretched in typical oratory fashion. He then lowered them with a slight laugh. “Now why you’d want to hear me speak again after an hour long sermon is beyond me, but here we go.”

  The crowd laughed in response as Mary looked around, searching for Curtis. She caught a glimpse of him in the back near the grill, having joined the huddle of men deep in conversation. It looked as though he was making friends just fine. Mary, on the other hand, felt overwhelmed with all the unfamiliar faces. Lucille seemed nice enough, albeit a tad pushy.

  “I’m glad to see so many smiling faces here for our Redwood Annual Summer Barbecue Kickoff!” Pastor Phil continued, swinging an arm through the air as the crowd clapped and hollered.

  “I just love him,” Lucille said loudly into Mary’s ear. “Isn’t he just the best?”

  Mary nodded, feigning a smile and feeling slightly dizzy with all the commotion around her.

  “Now we’ve got plenty of food and drinks for everyone. Games for you and your kids or tables to sit and take in this beautiful nature that surrounds us. And before ol’ Randy plays us some lovely tunes, I want to welcome the newest addit
ion to our lovely town, Curtis and Mary Malone! Everyone welcome them with a hearty applause.” He looked downward, arm outstretched to Mary, zeroing in on her from the crowd. She looked around nervously with a wave as the crowd cheered.

  “Let’s show them how we treat each other here in Redwood,” Phil continued, “with love, kindness, and respect for each one another. The way neighbors are supposed to be.”

  The cheering continued as Mary looked around for an out. She was packed in and it was getting more and more difficult for her to move. Phil said a few more words and then introduced the guitar playing who began to strum away in the glow of morning sun. “I need to find Curtis,” Mary said to Lucile as she worked her way out of the crowd. Lucile nodded, distracted by the music and subsequent signing emitting from Randy’s baritone crooning. Mary snuck away as Lucile continued clapping, squeezing herself through the crowd and excusing herself along the way.

  She broke free and quickly moved to the grill where Curtis handed her a plate with a hot dog on a bun, beans, and coleslaw.

  “Dig in,” he said, bobbing his head along with the music.

  She took the plate, thanking him. She felt flushed and a bit light-headed as the music continued on in the distance. Curtis must have took notice of her growing paleness and asked her if she was okay.

  “I want to go home,” she said. She looked over his shoulder past him, and for a minute it seemed as though all heads were turned in their direction, staring at them. She squinted her eyes shut and rubbed them. Upon, looking again she saw no such thing. No one was watching them. All attention was on the stage.

  “You need to meet some of the guys first,” he said. “Bob’s around here somewhere. The realtor, remember?”

  “I remember,” she said. “Maybe some other time.”

  Curtis gently placed his hand on her shoulder as his smile faded, replaced with concern. “What’s wrong, Mary?”

  “Nothing. I just… I’ve had enough for now and would like to go home.”