The Ghost of Jeopardy Belle

by M. L. Bullock

  Hannah closed the door and rolled the window down. “When you’re ready, just ask.” Then she drove away.

  I brushed a tear from my eye and decided not to wait for that walk. As my father used to say, “There’s no time like the present.” I stuffed my cold hands in my pockets and kicked a rock in my path. With a glance at the looming mansion behind me, I turned away from the house and tried to ignore the feeling of eyes watching me.

  I didn’t shake the feeling until I reached the river.

  Chapter Six—Harper

  I pleaded with Aunt Dot to let us stay the night at her house, but I didn’t quite come out and explain why. What would I say? Mr. Daughdrill makes Momma cry and wants me to call him Grandfather now. Like Jeopardy used to. As always, my sunny aunt didn’t want to hear anything negative about her sister, but then again, Aunt Dot was a glass-is-half-full kind of gal. Even though we couldn’t stay the night, she did take us shopping; I didn’t get the exact outfit that I saw in the magazine, but Aunt Dot bought me three scarves and two new skirts. Addison and Loxley got new dresses and shoes. With a trunk full of packages, we headed down Highway 98 back home to Desire.

  The closer we got to Hurlette Drive, the more Addison rubbed her stomach and the whinier Loxley became. Couldn’t Aunt Dot see how upset we were?

  “Let’s sing a driving song,” she said to me with a big smile in the rearview mirror. I wanted to smile back but didn’t have the energy to summon one. “The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round.” Nobody joined in. Aunt Dot’s smile disappeared, and for the first time, I understood that my aunt was nervous too. She didn’t want to leave us at Summerleigh any more than we wanted to go.

  With a sigh, she eased into the slow lane and said, “Girls, you know I would take you all home with me if I could. But I can’t. What about your Momma? She’s a handful at times, but she has a good heart. I know she’s moody and unreasonable, Harper, but you have to remember she’s lost a husband. And with Jeopardy being gone, Ann is a broken soul, and we’ve all got to be patient with her.”

  I didn’t bother answering her; she’d made up her mind not to see the bad things. Not to know that we were hungry and hurting. She didn’t want to see how completely abandoned we all felt. It was easier that way, I guessed. Still, despite her naivety—I never believed I’d ever use one of my vocabulary words in a sentence—I didn’t hate her. One could only love sweet Aunt Dot. I gazed out the window at the trees as we rushed past them. The shadows were gathering, and it would be time for supper soon. I wondered what I’d find in the refrigerator, if anything. There were some jars of tomatoes in the pantry. Maybe I could whip up some tomato gravy and biscuits. We had flour; I knew we had flour.

  “Harper, are you listening, dear?”

  “Yes, Aunt Dot,” I lied as she talked about how things were going to get better, how things would turn around for us Belle girls. She wasn’t fooling anyone in the car. Except maybe Loxley, who joined her in singing “When We All Get to Heaven.”

  “How about I pick you girls up for church on Sunday, if your Momma is still too ill to go? You haven’t been in almost a month of Sundays.” She chuckled as if she’d made the biggest joke ever. I didn’t have the energy now to appease her determined sense of humor. I suddenly remembered that I wasn’t wearing my hose. I’d stuffed them in my purse at school and forgot to put them back on. I hoped Momma didn’t notice. It would be bad if she did.

  “That would be fine, Aunt Dot.” Addison glanced back at me as if she were expecting me to say something too. I couldn’t. I was too busy counting. The car turned down the drive. I counted the seconds from the turn. It was twenty seconds from that turn until the first glimpse of Summerleigh. As we got closer, I felt sicker. Despite the presents and the renewed friendship with Arnette Loper, I wasn’t any happier than I had been when I left home this morning. Funny how I’d almost become accustomed to the gloom that had fallen on Summerleigh, how differently I felt about the place now that Daddy would never return to bring her back to life. And I missed Jeopardy with all my heart.

  Momma wasn’t alone at the house. Thankfully, Mr. Daughdrill’s car wasn’t there, but a rusty red truck sat in the driveway. Aunt Dot’s car crept to a stop, and she turned off the radio. She slid the gearshift into park and stared at the vehicle and then at the brightly lit parlor. Wait a minute. I recognize that truck. It belonged to Dewey Landry, Aunt Dot’s sometime sweetheart! The curtains were open, and I could see Momma and the dark-haired man sitting on the couch together. Momma’s legs were curled up under her dress, and she was smoking and laughing like everything was hunky-dory.

  “Who is that? I can’t see his face,” Addison said to no one in particular.

  I knew, and apparently so did Aunt Dot. She didn’t take her eyes off the window, and all four of us watched as Momma whispered in Dewey’s ear and he slapped his knee at her joke. I was completely shocked. Jeopardy had always claimed that Momma had “friends” coming to the house at late hours, but I’d never seen one myself. It wasn’t that late now, but it was Dewey Landry. What was she thinking? With his slicked-back brown hair, plain white t-shirt and blue jeans, Dewey was practically naked in our parlor. I didn’t know which I found more troubling, Momma entertaining Dewey like she was a teenage girl and he her high school crush or my aunt’s teary-eyed expression.

  Aunt Dot opened the car door. “You girls stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  “Yes, Aunt Dot,” we said in unison. Count Basie blared from the radio in the parlor, and Momma’s laughter escalated like it always did after she’d had a few drinks. I knew this song, “Take Me Back, Baby.” We weren’t allowed to listen to it at home, but the kids at school loved it. Tony Harvester liked playing Basie as loud as he could on his car radio. For the hundredth time today, I thought of Jeopardy. What would she think about seeing Momma in the house with a man who wasn’t Daddy? I told you so, Harper. Momma ain’t nothing but a w-h-o-r-e. Wait until I tell Daddy.

  “Harper? I’m afraid,” Loxley whined as she poked her head over the back seat for a better view.

  “That’s Dewey Landry,” Addison declared finally. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Maybe he’s here to fix the refrigerator. He is a repairman,” I lied to my little sister too easily. Addison sneezed again in the front seat. I watched in horror as Aunt Dot cleared the distance between the car and the house and walked right into the parlor. Clearly, she was yelling at Momma and Dewey, but I couldn’t hear her over the radio. Like a cornered wildcat, Momma sprang to her feet and threw her glass on the floor. I’d have to clean that up, and the carpet. And then Dewey was up, his hands in front of him as if he believed he’d be able to control the situation. What a fool he was to think he’d be able to calm those two. Next thing I knew, Aunt Dot and Momma were tussling. I couldn’t tell who threw the first punch because Dewey blocked my vision. He was still trying to break them up.

  “We have to stop them, Harper!” Addison was out of the car without waiting for an answer. Loxley began to cry beside me, and I held her, still too shocked to move. Seeing Addison running through the yard clutching her stomach stirred me—I couldn’t just sit here like a bump on a log and let her get hurt. That’s when I saw another car roll up behind me. I knew the shape of the headlights immediately. This was none other than Mr. Daughdrill in his Chevy Master DeLuxe.

  “Holy smokes,” I said as I tried to sink down in the car. I don’t know why I tried; it was impossible to hide from those lights, which shone like two white suns. Mr. Daughdrill wasted no time running to the porch and ordering Addison to stay outside. He stepped inside just in time to see Aunt Dot slap Dewey across the face as Momma collapsed on her red velvet sofa in a crying heap. In a few steps, Mr. Daughdrill crossed the room and unplugged the radio, then slung Dewey Landry out of the house. Both of his daughters stood up and faced him, screaming words we weren’t allowed to say, being Baptists and all. Then Mr. Daughdrill struck Momma across the face, and she hit the
ground. He grabbed her by her blond hair, just like she’d done to me, and struck her again. I had never seen such violence. Aunt Dot crumpled back, obviously too frightened to intervene.

  Before I knew it, I was screaming, “Momma!” I ran to the house with Loxley in my arms. I don’t know how I managed to climb out of that back seat holding her, but I did it. She’d peed on me as she cried, but I couldn’t stop and change her clothing. Addison trailed behind me as we raced inside. Loxley was weeping loudly, and she ran to Aunt Dot as soon as she saw her.

  From some place unseen and unknown within me, anger exploded and I yelled at Mr. Daughdrill, “Don’t you ever hit her again!” I picked up the poker from the fireplace and held it in my hand. I was no small girl, and I had quite an arm on me. He might be six inches taller, but I would strike him as sure as I was standing here if he hit Momma again. “Get out of our house now! Get out of here, you mean old bastard!” I’d never used that word before, and it shocked everyone into silence. Except Aunt Dot.

  “Harper Louise,” she said in a steady, quiet voice, “Put the poker down. It’s all over now.”

  “Girl, don’t you ever threaten me again. I see now what a horrible mother you are, Ann. Here you are, rollicking like a harlot with a two-bit grease monkey, and now your children disrespect me. I will not tolerate this any longer. There will be order.” He grabbed Addison’s arm—for what intention, I did not know, but his words broke me. That was the last thing Mr. Daughdrill said to me because I struck him hard across the opposite arm. He let go of Addison, who scrambled to Aunt Dot. Every feeling I had, all the grief and sadness, exploded into uncontrollable anger, and I struck him not once or twice but at least a half-dozen times.

  And nobody moved to stop me.

  “That’s enough now, Harper,” Momma said in a whisper. She lifted her bruised face to me. I couldn’t discern her expression. Was it relief? Anger?

  My hands stung, and I could see that I’d bruised them. I dropped the poker. It landed on the carpet with a thud, and I backed away from the sight of Mr. Daughdrill bleeding on the parlor floor.

  “Look, he’s breathing,” Addison said as she craned her neck to see him.

  “Girls, get in the car. We’re leaving,” Aunt Dot whispered as she held Loxley tighter.

  Momma began to cry, but she didn’t argue about it. I don’t think she was crying because we were leaving. I felt sure she was crying because I almost killed her daddy. Or something. Or maybe she was crying because we saw her fooling around with Dewey. I couldn’t be sure. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t leave her alone. Not now.

  “I can’t go, Aunt Dot. I have to stay and take care of Momma,” I said in a wooden voice. I couldn’t believe my own ears. What was I saying? I’d been praying for weeks—no, months—to get away from Momma, to leave Summerleigh forever. Now here was my chance and I couldn’t do it.

  Aunt Dot’s mascara ran beneath her eyes, and her hat was crooked from the earlier melee. “No, you don’t have to stay. I’m sorry I didn’t listen before. Come with me, Harper Louise. I won’t let you go through this another day.”

  With all my heart, I wanted to leave with her. I wanted to burn Summerleigh to the ground, along with every sad memory I had of this place, but I couldn’t leave Momma. She’d have no one if I left. No one at all.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Dot. I can’t go.” To my surprise, Addison took my hand. She didn’t speak, but I squeezed it back.

  “All right,” Aunt Dot said sadly. “Ann, I’m leaving with Loxley. I’ll make sure she gets to school.”

  Momma nodded and reached out her hand to me. Her beautiful face was the picture of sadness, as if all her hopes were now pinned on me. Aunt Dot and Loxley left, and I heard the car pull out of the driveway.

  The blood around Mr. Daughdrill pooled, but he was still breathing.

  I took Momma’s hand and helped her to her feet. She fell on my shoulder and cried like I was her best friend, but I knew better than that.

  I wasn’t her friend. I was her prisoner.

  Chapter Seven—Jerica

  John Jeffrey Belle had been right. The pond was nothing more than a glorified mud hole except for a few ducks that called it home. I walked farther, deciding that I would go down to Dog River and look at the water there. Jeopardy Belle used to love going down to Dog River. I remembered Troy Harvester’s description of her rising out of the water “like some kind of siren.” I wanted to see it for myself again. I’d been down there once before and had seen my daughter briefly. She’d been playing with Loxley Belle. In retrospect, I think Marisol wanted me to know that she was happy here at Summerleigh. She liked that I was here, but now I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t feel her like I used to. I didn’t see her, and I couldn’t understand why she was being so elusive.

  And then it dawned on me. Maybe the boy with the black eyes forced her to leave Summerleigh. Maybe he was keeping her away from me. Maybe he wanted to keep me all to himself. Yes, that could be it. Marisol was scared and hiding from him. All the more reason to get rid of him.

  “Marisol, honey,” I said with my eyes closed and my face turned up to the sun, “I’ll never let anything happen to you. Never again. I failed you once before, my baby, but I’ll never do it again. Trust Momma, please. Can you hear me?”

  Then as clear as a bell I heard a splash in the water. Not a fish jumping or a pebble plunking into the water but a splash as if someone had jumped in. I twisted around on the rock and looked over in the water just in time to see a spray of bubbles appear. I waited and waited, but nobody emerged from the murky water. I looked around and stood up on the rock to see if I could locate anyone near me. I searched for any evidence that someone was down here on this part of Dog River besides me but couldn’t see a soul. Scanning the banks again, I checked for clothing or a boat but saw no one. And then the water stopped bubbling, the ripples ceased to move, and it was as if it never happened.

  I know that just happened. I know someone dived in. I heard it with my own two ears. Oh, God! What if he was in trouble?

  Without taking off my shoes or emptying my pockets, I dived in. Fear and urgency overwhelmed me. I swam with all my might, and when I got to the spot that I believed I’d seen the splash, I dived down in a panic.

  Beneath the surface, the water wasn’t as murky as I expected, but it was much deeper than I had believed. Under the top layer of brown water, the bottom part of the river was clean and crystal-clear and fast moving. I swam about, looking for someone, anyone to rescue. I was running out of air, so I swam quickly back to the surface and sucked in a breath, then dived again and swam down a few feet. For one fleeting moment, I thought I saw a figure, but then it was gone. Someone was down here! My lungs burned, and I breached the surface again to catch my breath. I had every intention of diving back down until I saw a man standing on the shore.

  The sun was behind him, so I couldn’t see his face clearly. “Hey! Help! I think someone is drowning,” I shouted. An icy-cold chill passed over me, and I slunk down in the water a bit. I peered hard at the man, but he didn’t seem to hear me.

  Oh no. I know who he is, but that can’t be possible! It was Mr. Daughdrill, Harper’s long-dead grandfather! I raised my hand to my eyes to shield them from the sun, but I still could not see his face. I had no desire to swim to shore and see the ghost face-to-face. What do I do? I can’t swim to the shore as long as he’s standing there. How is this possible? Treading water furiously now, I thought about my options. I could swim downstream and then find another way home. Or I could stay in the water until someone else showed up. Surely someone else would come.

  “Marisol!” I whispered. “Stay away.” The man didn’t move. The wind blew, but his hair and clothing did not. He wore the same loose gray suit that I’d seen him in before, in Harper’s memories. Yes, that was Daughdrill. Who else could it be?

  And that’s when I felt the tug on my foot. A strong tug. I screamed in surprise and tried to swim away. That was not a branch or a piece of debris—th
at was a hand grabbing me! I screamed, but the scream was choked out with water as I was plunged beneath the surface of the suddenly violent waves. Let me go! I tried to yell, but no one could hear me. I thought I would drown as the hand gripped my ankle tighter. The last thing I wanted to do was see who or what had me, but I had no choice other than to swim down. I had to get free! With my last bit of oxygen, I released a bit of air and dived down to face the bloated white face that met mine.

  This was the boy with the black eyes, the one from Summerleigh!

  He was here in the water, and he wanted to drown me. He wanted me to die. I kicked at him so hard with my other foot that I felt his slippery skin move beneath my foot. I gagged at the sight of pieces of his flesh floating away in the water. He let me go and disappeared as he fell down further into the river. I launched to the surface, breathing in air as quickly as possible. A scream erupted from my lips, and I swam to the other side of the river, screaming and crying all the way. I had to get away from the boy. I prayed as I swam. Looking over my shoulder once or twice, I realized that no one was there. Daughdrill was gone.

  I eased up on the muddy bank of Dog River and held my ankle in my hand. It was clearly bruised but not broken. I was a nurse after all; I knew what breaks looked like. I got up on my feet as quickly as possible—I had to get away from this hellish river.

  I thought I would have a peaceful day out here, spend some time in nature and get away from the ghosts of the house. Maybe see Marisol again. Unfortunately, the ghosts had come looking for me.

  Hannah was wrong. I was not protected, and the boy with the black eyes was not going away easily. And he had an evil friend. I left immediately and began walking along the opposite bank until I came to a bridge that would lead me back to the other side of the river. The road was lonely, and I suddenly realized this was the road where Jeopardy had gone missing. This was the road where Daughdrill had done his last Horrible Thing—he took Jeopardy’s life right here. I paused, feeling sick. I heard a car approaching but didn’t stick around to see who it was. I hurried through the woods back to the cottage.