by M Jet
"Now, Danielle, I know this is a lot to be taking in. And I know you're in mourning. But just be aware, we are going to need to know as soon as possible where you stand with the company and what is to become of all this." He smiled kindly and continued. "And dear, just know we'll be right here with you every step of the way. Whatever decisions you make, we'll support you, help you, and make it all as easy as possible for you."
Soon they left her, telling her they'd give her time to review the files in private. But once the door closed behind them, she gave the files one sideways glance and then turned to go back to her bedroom.
Tomorrow, she thought. I'll deal with real life again tomorrow.
***
Danielle returned to work at The Washington Post the next morning. She'd promised herself only one day after the funeral to wallow and then back to business as usual. When she entered the news room, the din diminished noticeably. She noticed people trying not to notice her. People didn't know what to say. She understood. She herself found it difficult to deal with the raw edges of the grief of another. She would rather not be bothered or reminded anyway. She would rather get back to the news. However, when she reached her desk, there were several bouquets and baskets there waiting. And this was in addition to the many gifts that had been sent to the funeral from her colleagues. Danielle took a deep shuddering breath and decided to chase the elephant from the room so that she and everyone else could get on with it.
She turned to face everyone else in the room. "Um, thank you guys, for these lovely gifts and the ones that came to the funeral. I couldn't ask for a more outstanding support system. Listen, I want you all to know, I'm just fine, and we can all just go on like always, OK?" Danielle received many sympathetic smiles. People stood to give her hugs and express their caring for her and then it was done; the news room sprung back to life.
Relieved, Danielle took a seat at her desk. She pushed aside the flowers to have access to her computer. She fired it up and began her work day by catching up with her email. However, she wasn't very far into the task before another colleague approached her.
"Hi Dani," came his familiar resonating bass voice. Danielle's spine went ridged. She slowly swiveled in her chair until she looked up into his flawless, tan face. Dennis Fox was gorgeous, to be sure, in that perfectly manicured, perfectly coiffed, perfectly fictional type way. How he'd once made her swoon; turned her into an inept, awkward, school girl. And now she looked at him and saw nothing authentic. A Greek godlike snake in the grass.
"Dennis," she replied curtly.
Dennis visibly squirmed and she reveled at the thought of making him uncomfortable. "I, uh, wanted to offer you my condolences."
A vibrant flash of anger warmed Danielle through and through. It made her remember she was alive. "Dennis, really don't bother," she spat.
Dennis' jaw dropped and he stared blankly at her. "Well that was rude, Dani," he growled in a sinister voice much more fitting of the man she'd come to know.
Danielle laughed and leapt from her seat. Though he was a head taller than she at least, she wasn't intimidated and she stood inches from his face. "You know what's rude, Dennis?" Danielle seethed. "What's rude is not coming to pay your respects to the people who put your sorry ass through college. What's rude is not saying goodbye to the people who MADE you. What's rude is that we've only been divorced FOUR WEEKS and not only are you already REMARRIED, your new WIFEY apparently couldn't let you support the woman who stood by you back when you were NOBODY! THAT'S all pretty fucking rude by way of thinking, DENI!"
The uncomfortable hush had once again transcended over the office and this time Danielle didn't care. Dennis was still standing speechless when Danielle spun and stalked from the news floor into the office of the Editor and Chief. She burst through the door and slammed it shut behind her.
"Margo," Danielle began, addressing her boss. "I'm sorry. I thought I could do this today, but I was wrong," she lamented, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving.
Margo Applegate sat propped on the edge of her own desk, arms crossed across her Chanel suit. She nodded, always the cool one. "I understand completely, Danielle. You are under no obligation to return so soon."
"Well, see, that's the thing," Danielle continued. "I don't think I can do this at all anymore. I think I'm done…"
Margo's face creased with a sympathetic frown. After a moment of contemplative silence, she responded. "You've been a great asset to this team, Danielle. Though I'll be sorry to see you go, I certainly can't see how anyone would blame you for wanting to go. Given the… Circumstances. Anything at all you need from me, you've got it. And I wish you the best."
***
Danielle left The Washington Post furious in a way only Dennis Fox could make her. She really couldn't believe she'd quit her job over that prick, but she felt phenomenal about it. She laughed while she cried on the short drive home.
Dennis Fox was Danielle's high school sweetheart and the only lover she'd ever known. At one time they'd been best friends and fantastic lovers. He was perfection. And she had been equally gorgeous with her curvy body, black hair spilling to her waist, wide dark eyes and full rosy lips. Additionally they shared a passion and talent for writing, investigation and news. Together, they'd been unstoppable.
They'd married with the full support of both their families practically as soon as they crossed the stage for their high school graduation. He came from a working class family with a loving mother and father and a slew of siblings; the polar opposite of her own family. She came from old money and a family that had died off completely save herself and her parents. Part of what she'd loved so much about Dennis had been his boisterous family life.
Her parents had generously put them both through college where they excelled and graduated with honors. Through those years there were many requests for grandchildren. Dennis had pressured her as well for kids. Though she wanted children very much, she was driven to launch her career first.
And launch it she did. Danielle had a penchant for broadcast news. She'd virtually risen to stardom over night as the gorgeous Gypsy like news anchorwoman that everyone craved. And Dennis had equal or greater success as a newspaper reporter, writing controversial posts in newspapers and magazines all over the country.
Finally, once she was well established in her field she and Dennis happily decided to get pregnant. Everything went smoothly and she'd conceived easily; a baby girl. Once she decided she was ready for a baby, she couldn't be happier about being pregnant. She had a wonderful pregnancy full of love, laughter, and late nights spent talking to the baby growing inside her. Danielle couldn't have loved her more if she'd held the baby in her arms already.
They had been on top of the world until one snowy night changed it all.
Just weeks before the baby's due date, alone in her car, driving back into the city from her parents' country estate; Danielle was t-boned by a drunk driver. She never saw it coming, and remembered nothing about the accident. But when she came out of the coma two weeks later, half of her face was burned, and the baby was gone. Among other surgeries, she'd required a complete hysterectomy because of injuries sustained in the accident.
Her baby girl was dead and she would never have children.
At first Dennis had played the part of a loving and devoted husband. He'd played the press expertly as well when she'd lost her status as a TV broadcaster because of her scarred face and had to move to the written news. He even got her a job at The Post where he worked. For a time they worked together as a team in the public eye, but behind closed doors, Danielle knew something was wrong. And it wasn't long before she figured it out. He was leaving her. By the day their divorce became final; his other woman was already eight months pregnant.
And Dennis and her replacement married the very next day.
Then right on the heels of her whole world crumbling, her parents were gone too. The only bright spot she could find was that when you're alone in the world, there isn't anything to be afr
aid of…
***
Danielle went straight back home. She sat at her dining table and spread Jackson's files in front of her. She began to examine the file of properties her parents owned. Most everything she knew about. But, she was intrigued by a property she'd never heard of in her life. It was a plantation in St. Francisville, Louisiana; minutes away from New Orleans. It was one of the few properties in the file with no photos attached. Danielle couldn't imagine why she'd never been to it or heard of it, or why her parents had never mentioned it. Both her parents were French and she wondered if the property was somehow connected to her family heritage. A plan began to unfold in her mind.
By the time two weeks came and went, Jackson was hard at work putting Danielle's plans into action. She pieced out the company among the board members, retaining only one percent interest for herself. She donated all the proceeds from the sale of the company to charity, and she trusted Peter Davis implicitly to honor her parents' in the running of the company.
She began selling off and donating all the properties, including her own condo. She didn't even keep her belongings. Most of them had been things acquired during her joke of a marriage and she wanted nothing more than to say goodbye to it all. The one thing she held onto was the plantation in Louisiana. Mantagne Winds.
And as soon as everything was in order, Danielle bought a one way ticket and got on a plane.
Part 2: Cleanse
Danielle couldn't explain what was pulling her to Louisiana. She'd never been there in her life and knew nothing about the property. Neither Jackson nor Peter had much information about it to impart either. She didn't bother to do much digging for information, just decided to go and see for herself.
She took a taxi from the airport in New Orleans to the property outside of St. Francisville. After about a half hour, she was being deposited with her three suit cases at the end of a lane that disappeared into thick overgrowth. Through the fringe of lush foliage, Danielle couldn't see even a hint of a house, though there was a decrepit weathered sign dangling from an iron post with the words "Mantagne Winds."
The driver, a friendly old Creole man, got out of the cab to open the door for her and unload her bags. "Sorreh thare, miss," he said with a rich Southern drawl that almost sounded like a different language. "Ah'm afraid Ah can't get the car back there, you'll have to walk." He tipped his hat to her and gave her a wide grin full of sparkling white teeth. "But, Ah'd be happeh to escort ya! Hate to see a ladeh walkin' lone through these woods!"
Danielle smiled warmly back at the man, already in love with the slow pace and dapper charm here. She thanked him, tipped him generously, and assured him he didn't need to hike through the Bayou with her.
His face fell, and a hint of something she couldn't quite place flashed in his eyes before he recovered his smile. "But ma'am, don'cha know, the Bayou ain't no place for a ladeh to go wandrin' alone! Never know what lurks out there? And what of your luggage? I surely don't mind tah help ya!" He worked to keep his voice upbeat, but she detected an odd note of real concern. She knew the house couldn't be too far back, and if she couldn't manage all three bags at once, she'd just make trips. How nice of these Southern gents to actually CARE what happens to women. But, she assured him again that she'd be just fine and bid him farewell. Then she made off into the trees.
***
Though it was only mid-May, it was already nearly one hundred degrees of humid sticky heat. Danielle was wringing wet with sweat by the time she emerged through the willows in front of her new home. She dropped her bags and stared open mouthed.
The sprawling white home was massive. It was comprised of a wraparound porch, balconies, pillars, dozens of windows, and ornate wrought iron trim. The once white home was pealing and greyed from generations of weather. Spanish moss, rose bushes, and climbing vines draped it. The sun that poured into the clearing glinted off the ancient window panes, many of which were broken. The plantation in the clearing sat alone, forgotten by time, and silently lingering waiting to be rediscovered. Though there was no noise other than the breeze in the trees and the song of the Whippoorwills, Danielle imagined she heard remnants of music that must have been played here long ago in the plantation's heyday. She stood drinking in every detail of this setting, totally isolated from the world, and all hers. Then, she giggled joyfully and ran for the front door.
She let herself in with keys Jackson had secured for her. "Woooowwww," she murmured, as she stepped in and looked around. She was standing in a grand entryway. Even covered in dust, with pealing wallpaper and a winding stairway that was falling apart, the entryway was incredible. Everywhere Danielle's eyes laid, she saw what it once was and missed the disrepair. She found a light switch and pushed the black button to see if the chandelier thirty feet above her head worked. As promised, Jackson had the utilities to the old mansion turned on and the colorful crystals shone brilliantly through the rain of dust she'd stirred up with her entrance.
Danielle explored every nook and cranny of the home despite the wretched heat. She wrestled with the huge windows as she went, stuck after years of remaining sealed shut. Soon, she had air moving through the lofty house. After she finished exploring she called Jackson and asked him to make arrangements to send her a car, and somebody to cut back the brush over the driveway so the car could get in. "Nothing too fancy, please," Danielle instructed kindly. She was grateful for all the gifts her parents had provided her in her life, but she tried not to flaunt her blessings.
Within an hour the driveway was clear and a new Camry was delivered. Jackson was a remarkable man who made magic happen. Though Danielle hated to leave, she decided to take off for town, do some exploring, and buy herself some supplies to get to work on her new world.
***
Danielle made herself busy in her new world all day exploring and cleaning. She found a wealth of treasures along the way; old clothing, journals, and countless interesting items. By the time the sun began to sink in the sky, she hadn't even made it out of the house yet to explore the property. As it grew dark, she continued to work, dancing around to the music blasting out of the small stereo she'd purchased earlier in the day.
Danielle was taking a break, having some noodles at the kitchen table around nine p.m. when the power went out and the massive house fell dark and quiet. Danielle's heart raced; startled by the sudden quiet. She strained her eyes to see in the dark, unnerved at being blind in this unknown place. When she realized the power wasn't going to come right back on immediately, she decided to try and find some candles she'd seen earlier in the pantry. She stumbled through the pitch dark kitchen.
"Shit," she growled as she jammed her toe against an island in the middle of the kitchen.
She finally made her way into the pantry, found a thick white candle and matches, and lit it. The darkness definitely slowed her work and her mood had changed entirely. Danielle had always been firmly rooted in reality, and wasn't one to scare easily. However, everything seemed different about the place when the lights went out. The air was thick and heavy. The hairs on her arms rose as she began imagining a million out of place noises in the dark country night.
Danielle decided to call it a night. She made herself a make shift bed in the kitchen, which was the only room she'd gotten really clean. She unrolled a sleeping bag and placed some pillows on the floor with it, all of which she'd bought that day. She pulled a book out of her suitcase and settled down onto the floor next to the candle. However, the book she'd packed was a horror novel.
"Great," Danielle muttered. "That'll help my little freak out."
She read the book anyway, against her better judgment. Luckily, she found herself exhausted and was soon fast asleep.
***
Danielle woke with a start to the sound of a baby crying.
She lurched up on top of her sleeping bag, looking around frantically. In her disoriented state, she at first couldn't tell where the sound came from and her anxiety level exploded. The candle had gone out and the ki
tchen was washed in an eerie pale glow from the moonlight streaming in the open windows.
Danielle jumped up and began stumbling around the downstairs trying to determine where the noise came from. Trying to still her racing heart. Trying to fight back the automatic response of tears at hearing a crying infant.
Finally, the sound led her out the back door. It was coming from the trees in the backyard. Danielle was frantic as she stumbled through the dark yard toward the sound of the distressed child.
SLAM
With a start, Danielle whirled around toward the back porch.
SLAM
The back door had flown shut with a violent crash. One by one, the windows in the back of the house began crashing shut. The sound of the baby crying ceased, and Danielle stood trembling in the back yard.
***
Eventually, Danielle found an old discarded tool on the back porch and pried open the back door. She was furious after it took a half hour to break into the house, having no idea why the doors and windows had slammed shut or why they wouldn't open. She also half convinced herself she'd imagined the baby crying all together and decided she might be losing her shit.
Once she was inside again, she cautiously made her way through the house in the dark, re opening the windows. Then she settled back onto her sleeping bag. Just as she was drifting off to sleep once more, the sound of a crying baby drifted out over the night.
She pulled her pillow over her head and tried to ignore it, fighting back the tears.
***
The sound of the old house roaring back to life when the electric powered back on woke Danielle again just after sunrise. She sat up and blearily rubbed her eyes. Madonna was blasting out of her stereo, but her sleep deprived mood sharply contrasted the bubbly music. She rose, showered and dressed grumbling the whole time.
