Anna chose to ignore the fact that she was an adult who didn’t need to be scolded like a child, even if she was a houseguest. “I was up at the church doing some work.” She moved toward the stairs, but as soon as she touched the newel post at the base of the staircase, her aunt spoke.
“Who was with you outside? I heard a man’s voice.”
Anna pressed her eyes and lips closed, gathering herself before forcing a smile and a pleasant tone as she turned around. “That was Mr. Charlie Beck. I felt unwell, so he escorted me home to ensure my well-being. He’s very kind and gentlemanly.”
“I highly doubt that, and I suggest you stop associating with him, seeing as he’s the son of a scoundrel.” Aunt Wilma crooked one eyebrow so high that it was a wonder it didn’t disappear into her hairline.
“Why do you say that?” Anna asked airily, then had to clench her teeth. She would rather have stormed up to her bedroom, but Aunt Wilma had a way of keeping someone in place when she wanted to speak to them. Besides, Anna wanted to hear what she had to say, if only to defend Charlie. Even if his father had done some bad things, that didn’t mean his son automatically followed his footsteps.
With a dismissive snort, Aunt Wilma returned to her embroidery and to rocking her chair. “I thought you of all people would have heard about the Beck family, seeing as Howard Beck broke your mother’s heart and ruined her life.”
A fire sprang to life in Anna’s chest. “My mother’s life was not ruined.”
“Funny you’d say that, seeing as how she didn’t live long enough for you to hear such things from her own lips.”
Anna forced herself to keep quiet; she needed a room to stay in until she could support herself, and putting Aunt Wilma in her place would make life utterly miserable. Her grandparents had told stories of her parents’ courtship and love for each other. But doubt entered Anna’s mind. She’d grown up with her paternal grandparents. Would they have known details about their daughter-in-law’s past? Why would Aunt Wilma say such things about her own late sister? Anna had to find out more, no matter how much she wanted to flee. If she left now, she’d regret it. She didn’t ask for the story, but her silence must have been enough for Aunt Wilma to consider it a request.
“Howard Beck was your mother’s beau, and she loved him with a depth I’ve never seen before or since.” Aunt Wilma sighed. “I admit that at times, I envied her. I was the elder sister, and I had no young men clamoring for my attention. But somehow, whenever I saw them together, the jealousy melted away because they were so perfect together. Looking into her eyes, you could see the pure joy he brought her. Ellen was happy.” She stopped rocking, and her embroidery fell unheeded to her lap. She gazed into the dying embers of the fireplace, seeming to be in another world. The house had radiant heating, so the fireplace wasn’t precisely necessary, but it did add a homey feel to the autumn evening.
Anna’s attention had caught on more than the fireplace, however. In her presence, Aunt Wilma had never before referred to her late sister as anything other than your mother. But she’d just called her by name— Ellen.
A not uncomfortable silence settled over the sitting room. Anna stepped away from the stairs and walked to the settee beside the rocking chair, where she sat and asked quietly, “What happened?”
Somehow, she didn’t feel angry or defensive anymore. She genuinely wanted to know what had happened, as much for understanding her mother as for learning about Charlie and what his family had to do with hers.
“I don’t think any of us will ever know precisely what went wrong,” Aunt Wilma said with a far-off gaze. “I remember the day he called on Ellen and broke her heart. He accused her of awful, unspeakable things. Said she’d betrayed him with another man. He wouldn’t listen to her protests, wouldn’t let her explain anything. He believed the words of some supposed witness, but he wouldn’t say who that was, either.” She blinked, seemed to come to herself, and looked at Anna with tears in her normally crabby eyes. Anna couldn’t help but feel compassion and sadness for her aunt— and for her mother.
“I’ve long believed that Howard Beck simply needed an excuse to move on. He’d had his fun but wanted to sow his oats, so to speak. A story from a ‘witness’ was plenty excuse to toss her out of his life. She cried in her room for a solid week, then moved north to live with extended family we’d never met. That’s when she met your father.” Aunt Wilma put a hand on Anna’s knee, and added, “Your father was a good man, and he brought her back from complete heartbreak.” The familiar hard edge returned to her jaw— and to her voice. “But I’ll never forgive Howard Beck for hurting her in the first place.”
“I had no idea,” Anna said. That was both a truthful and a safe thing to say. She paid careful attention to not add opinion or commentary as her mind tried to rewrite history, adding this new information. Aunt Wilma couldn’t know the entire story, and even if she did, Howard Beck’s actions and character— assuming he had cruelly cast aside a woman who’d loved him— had no bearing whatsoever on the person his son had become.
After a moment, Aunt Wilma let out a weary sigh and returned to her stitching. Anna took the action as a sign that she might leave without offending.
“I’m quite tired,” she said. A yawn confirmed her words. She covered her mouth and stood. “Thank you for telling me about my mother.”
“I loved her dearly,” Aunt Wilma said without looking up again. She focused on a rose petal in her design.
“Good night,” Anna said, stepping away. “I hope you sleep well.”
“Good night,” Aunt Wilma replied absently. Then under her breath, almost too quiet to make out, she added, “I hope the dead, too, rest in peace tonight.”
A shiver went through Anna at the mention of the dead, even though her aunt likely referred to Anna’s mother. Considering the events of the last few hours, though, it was no wonder that talk of the deceased made her uneasy. She made her way up the stairs to the landing, where three tall, narrow windows looked out at the carriage house and gardens. Anna wanted to linger in case she could see Charlie, although he’d probably walked in another direction. She quickly changed her mind, in case she’d end up seeing something else— like Nanny Mae’s ghost.
Anna climbed the second flight of stairs and went to the northeast corner room, which overlooked both Main Street and 100 West, where she and Charlie had said goodnight. Normally at this hour, Anna would have gotten ready for bed, but tonight, she felt restless and paced the room, which was almost fifteen feet long both directions— much larger than any bedroom she’d ever had, and it wasn’t the largest of the house. Back and forth she went to the wide windows covered in lacy drapes, to the closet, and back again. She couldn’t think of sleep, not after learning about her mother when she was about Anna’s age. And with that information came questions about why her mother and Howard Beck were in a photograph with Nanny Mae.
That thought was quickly followed with reminders about how many times Nanny Mae had touched her life that very day. And Charlie’s. She’d even said the same words to each of them.
Maybe we aren’t the only ones. She could have appeared to any number of people who simply haven’t spoken of it. That made sense and eased Anna’s nerves. It would mean that the ghost’s appearance wasn’t necessarily connected to Anna and Charlie.
At one point when she turned from the window, she studied the closet door. Nanny Mae had once slept in this room. A shelf in the closet had a stack of old notebooks, Anna suddenly remembered. What if...
She walked to the closet with purpose and pulled the door open. Before the butterflies in her stomach got the better of her, Anna reached for the notebooks and pulled them off the shelf. She found three— fewer than she’d thought— and blew a slight layer of dust off the top. After taking a seat on her bed, she turned on the electric lamp on her nightstand and opened the top notebook. It held recipes in Aunt Wilma’s hand. The second notebook appeared to be a journal written by Aunt Wilma’s daughter Cora. It was set asid
e along with the recipes. The bottom notebook had no writing on the worn brown cover, but Anna instinctively knew it was what she was looking for, and that the moment she opened it, her life would never again be the same.
With her eyes closed, she lifted the cover. Before looking down, she licked her lips, said a quick prayer, and finally opened her eyes. A journal. Anna didn’t recognize the handwriting, but perusing a few pages was plenty to confirm that these were the words of Nanny Mae Workman, many of which she’d written while staying here.
Anna read, sometimes skipping past records of daily minutiae to longer passages, where Nanny Mae became contemplative. Her final days were filled with sadness and regret. Her final entry was only about halfway through the book, dated exactly a year before— the night she died, Anna realized with a start.
31 October, 1923
I’ve been here only two months, but the hatred I feel from Mrs. Ingersoll is almost more than this old woman can bear. I fear she knows the part I played in her family’s drama. If so, I cannot blame her for despising me. I’ve come to despise myself. Just think: the actions of an impulsive young woman who intended to create her own happiness instead created misery and unhappiness. At first that unhappiness was reserved for Howard and Ellen, but they healed of the wounds I inflicted. It is I who have paid the price for decades. I lost the man I loved, even though he never belonged to me. I lost the trust of the community. No man would court me. I lost the opportunity to have children. And now I face my final days.
I pray they do not last long. I pray even more fervently, every night, that when I am dead, I may have the opportunity to set right what I made wrong— that I may bring together the families I so cruelly separated.
Foolish, foolish girl. If I could go back in time, I would warn the slip of a thing that I was to stand back. To hold her tongue and not spread vicious lies in the form of idle gossip. Lies I didn’t know then would have such a horrible effect.
As unhappy as I am living here, I have not asked the bishop to move me. I have already been too much of a burden to the congregation. I also know that I deserve any bitterness thrown into my path. Perhaps some of what I have endured will count toward any suffering God will require of me to atone for my sins.
May God have mercy on my soul.
Anna slowly raised her gaze from the book. What precisely did that last line mean? Had Nanny Mae killed herself? Had she thought her past actions particularly heinous? Both?
Anna closed the book and thought through what she knew of Nanny Mae. She filled gaps with what Aunt Wilma had told her. The picture it created was simple yet sad: Nanny Mae had fallen in love with Howard Beck and wanted him for herself. But he’d had eyes only for Anna’s mother. To separate them and diminish Ellen in his eyes, Nanny Mae went to Howard and told him lies about Ellen. He was foolish enough to believe them.
Based on Nanny Mae’s words, at least some of the truth had come out, and she’d been shunned by the revelation of what she’d done. Possibly by exaggerations of the truth as well. By then, Ellen had gone to Idaho. Anna knew that her parents’ courtship was a quick one. Now Anna had a feeling that her mother had been so desperate for love and acceptance, so anxious to escape the rumors and Howard’s disdain, that she’d married as quickly as she could. Even if Howard had had a change of heart, it would have been too late.
Anna couldn’t help but wonder about Howard. Did he hear of her mother’s marriage when it happened? Did he know of her death only two years later, when Anna was days past her first birthday?
Her vision blurred, and she found tears spilling down her cheeks at the lost opportunities, the heartbreak, the sadness. All for nothing.
A voice seemed to speak to Anna then, not so she heard it, precisely, but she felt the words as strongly as if someone had placed them in her mind.
I hope I did not scare you. I came only to fix what I made wrong.
Any fear or trepidation Anna might have felt at the thought of a ghost now melted away in the face of an intense, warm love encircling her. The voice spoke again.
Your mother was a wonderful woman. I hope you forgive me.
Anna wiped her cheeks and gently closed the journal. She fell asleep with it under her pillow, still in her work dress.
Chapter Six
Anna awoke with a start the next morning, opening her eyes and looking about, feeling disoriented. I had the strangest dream last night, she thought, then rolled to her back and realized that she wasn’t wearing her nightdress. She looked down; she was still fully dressed, down to her boots.
Then it wasn’t a dream.
She rolled to her side and adjusted her pillow. Her fingers touched a notebook, and everything rushed back— sorting through Nanny Mae’s belongings in the church, seeing the photograph of her with Anna’s mother and the man she now knew was Howard Beck, who looked like a carbon copy of his son, Charlie.
Charlie!
Anna sat bolt upright at the memory. His dark hair, kind eyes, strong arms. His sense of humor. How they’d both seen Nanny Mae. How they’d both known that the experience was significant in some way.
And now I know why.
She got up and changed into a fresh dress. She brushed through her hair and braided it, finally flinging it over her left shoulder. Not until she looked at her reflection did she realize that she’d copied Nanny Mae’s style. Anna’s hair wasn’t as long, but the effect was strikingly similar.
I never wear one long braid, Anna thought, running her fingers down the silky twists. Instead of taking it out, she decided to keep it for the day as a tribute to the ghost who’d stepped into her life.
As promised, Charlie arrived at noon. Anna had packed a basket with a picnic lunch for them. She’d slipped the journal inside and a blanket over the top. She came out from the kitchen door to meet him with the basket over one arm. He looked wan, almost ash-faced. And no wonder. They’d parted after discussing an unsettling circumstance.
Wearing her broadest smile, she crossed to him. “I have just the thing for us to do first,” she said cheerfully. “And I promise that I’ll turn that frown the other way ’round by the time lunch is over.”
That alone eked a tentative smile out of Charlie. “Oh?”
“Oh yes.” She turned to call through the kitchen door to her aunt, who was reading in the sunroom. “I’m going out with Charlie Beck. Don’t expect me back until evening.”
“All— all right,” came the response, one that made Anna breathe a sigh of relief.
That morning, she’d explained what she could to her aunt— nothing about the ghost of Nanny Mae, of course, and attributing everything Anna had learned to the journal.
She closed the door and slipped one hand around Charlie’s elbow, and they began walking.
He peered about Main Street and asked, “Did you have a place in mind for what I presume is a delicious meal?”
“Well,” Anna said, unsure how to broach the subject. “I suggest we walk up to the cemetery and pay a visit to Nanny Mae Workman’s grave.”
Charlie’s step stopped cold. “Surely you’re joking.”
She shook her head, unable to stop smiling. She kept walking and tugged his arm so he’d follow. He did, and they crossed the street, heading in the direction of the cemetery. “I unraveled the mystery about our ghost.”
“Shh,” Charlie said. “Don’t say that word so loud. People will talk.”
Spoken like Aunt Wilma, Anna thought with a silent laugh.
“Last night, I learned some interesting things from my aunt, as well as from reading a journal written by none other than Nanny Mae Workman.”
Charlie stiffened but didn’t stop walking, which Anna took as a good sign.
“I learned that my mother and your father once courted.” Out of the corner of her eye, she waited for Charlie’s reaction. His eyes widened as she’d expected, so she hurried on. “Nanny Mae came between them. You can read about it all in her journal. I brought it along.”
“What does that
have to do with you and me? Why is she haunting us?”
“She simply wants to right a wrong,” Anna said. “She recognized us because we both look much like our parents, and she hoped that perhaps she could intervene in such a way as to...”
“Play matchmaker from the great beyond?” Charlie finished.
“In a manner of speaking.”
He shook his head and laughed. “I’m still not sure if you and I really are daft and imagined seeing her. I have no idea if my father courted anyone before my mother— they won’t speak of those times. Which in itself is a bit suspicious, now that I think of it.”
When they reached the cemetery, Charlie led her up a grassy hill to Nanny Mae’s grave, still new enough to have a headstone without chips or weathering. They stood before it in quiet acknowledgment of the woman who had lived her life hating herself for a poor decision she’d made one day as a young woman.
Eventually, they sat on the thin blanket that Anna had folded into the basket, and they ate lunch under a sky remarkably clear and warm for late autumn.
“So what now?” Charlie asked before popping a grape into his mouth. He chewed it quickly and swallowed, then added, “Are we now obligated to do Nanny Mae’s bidding?”
“You mean by having a— a future together?” In spite of herself, Anna blushed. “Of course not. The mystery is solved, and that’s enough.” Not entirely the truth; she’d found herself dreaming of a future with Charlie. Of staying in town rather than applying for positions elsewhere. But she wasn’t about to say so. “Nanny Mae must know by now that one cannot force matters of romance, and that—”
She couldn’t finish her sentence because Charlie leaned in and stopped her words with a kiss. After a second of stunned surprise, Anna thrilled to the feel of his lips on hers and wished the moment would never end. Charlie pulled away, and her eyes fluttered open to look into his.
When he spoke next, his voice was soft, warm, and filled with unspoken emotion. “Would you be entirely opposed to seeing whether Nanny Mae is right this time?”
All Hallows' Eve Collection Page 9
