The Girl in the Lighthouse (Arrington)

by Roxane Tepfer Sanford

  I closed my eyes and dozed. The rattle of the windows and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach kept me from resting peacefully. I was grateful when the train came to an abrupt halt and we were finally allowed to get out of the stuffy car, but the fresh air was not much better. It was heavy and moist. It didn’t seem to affect Daddy as he hurried us to a carriage that took us to the cemetery where Momma was recently laid to rest.

  The breeze on the carriage ride helped move the air around, and I began to feel better. Though the ride was long and bumpy, I enjoyed taking in the new sights and smells. It was as if I were transported straight into summer. The sun blazed high in the southern sky and scorched the soil. Along the way, I noticed several plantations with abandoned colossal mansions set back from the road—many destroyed and burnt to the ground, the only remains six or seven chimneys standing tall and proud amongst the ruins.

  Daddy didn’t say anything until we reached the cemetery. Then he said, “This is the place. Let’s go say goodbye to Momma.”

  The grounds along the river were full of live oak trees, red cedar, and azaleas. It was the largest cemetery I had ever seen. We took the long walk to the north end until Daddy found the spot where Momma had been laid to rest. Daddy knelt on the fresh dirt, his hat in hand before her tombstone, and began to weep. I stayed back, twisting my hair around my finger, trying to contain my tears. His moment with Momma was private; everything around him disappeared, including me. Daddy was visibly lost without her; he was half the man he had been when she was near. I waited for him to call me over so I could pay my respects and give her a final goodbye. After we returned to Jasper Island I would not be able to see her grave again for many years, I thought. I wanted to make my farewell momentous; I needed Momma to know I would miss her, too. It wasn’t just Daddy who suffered over her death.

  When he eventually stepped aside, I made my way over. I was surprised that I held back my tears and was able to speak to her without sobbing uncontrollably.

  “I will miss everything about you,” I began. “I will miss your beautiful smile, your loving eyes. I will hear your angelic voice when the sun rises and sets each day. I will always remember how much you loved me. Even through your madness, I know you still loved me.”

  Daddy came over and placed his warm hand on my shoulder then I turned and fell into his arms. We cried together for the first time, and for the last time. I clung to Daddy, and he held me tight, sobbing, and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  I lifted my head from his chest and looked up at him, not understanding what he would be sorry for. After all, it wasn’t his fault that Momma had died.

  He was staring ahead, and I turned to see what had caught his attention. An aristocratic, aged woman wearing a black crepe dress and black gloves, holding a cane, stood a few feet away from Momma’s grave. She was tall and regal, her hair silvery gray, with matching eyes as cold as stone. In the distance was her carriage and a Negro man—her driver. Daddy stood tall and sucked in his breath, then turned me around, placed my hand in his, then approached the woman. She stood like a statue with no emotion as Daddy formally introduced me. My mind scrambled to figure out who the woman was, why she was at the cemetery, and how Daddy knew her. Their eyes locked and held for a moment. I could see they had no fondness for one another.

  “Eugenia, this is Lillian.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, and she gave me a brief look then said to Daddy in a cool, unaffected way, “She looks normal.”

  Daddy took immediate offense and snapped, “Of course she is normal.”

  “This is only temporary, you understand?” She had an accent, but it wasn’t like the others in the South. She spoke like many of the English sailors Daddy had rescued over the years at Rock Ledge Island.

  Daddy nodded to her, and she hastily took hold of my arm. I went to pull away, suddenly afraid of her, but Daddy nudged me forward, and without meeting my eyes said, “You will be staying with your grandmother for a while, Lillian.”

  In confusion and fear, I pulled away.

  Daddy came to me, fell to his knees, and made me look at him. “I love you with all my heart; you must believe me,” he said with great earnestness.

  I frantically tried to read him; I wanted to know how he could abandon me and leave me with a complete stranger, a grandmother I didn’t even know existed. He began to explain why he needed to leave me behind in an unfamiliar place.

  “I have been reassigned to another station, a place more desolate than Rock Ledge Island. It’s no place for you, Lillian. You need someone to look after you; I just can’t do that right now.” Daddy pleaded for me to understand, to accept his helplessness, and do as he asked without putting up a fight.

  “I want to stay with you, Daddy. I can help you at any station, you know that!”

  “Not now. Give me a few months,” he said, then took hold of my hands. “I promise I will come back for you.”

  “Enough of this,” the grandmother spat, pulling me away from Daddy. “You must leave now. You’re making matters worse. Go back to your Yankee life!”

  Daddy stood to go, then placed a quick kiss on my cheek. I reached for him, but he walked away, and I was held back from running after him.

  “Daddy, please don’t go; please don’t leave me here!” I screamed. “Daddy, please!”

  Grandmother called for the driver to help her take me. I protested, and when she wouldn’t let me go, I kicked her so hard she had no choice but to release her grip on me. I ran, ran as fast as I could to Daddy. He stopped, spun around, and swept me up into his arms. I was certain he had changed his mind, realized what a terrible mistake he had almost made. But then, to my dismay, he carefully lowered me to the ground and let go. I saw it then, in his tired, defeated face, without any doubt—he wasn’t taking me back with him.

  I cried, begged, and pleaded for Daddy at the top of my lungs as he climbed onto the carriage that had waited for him. Then it sped away. The grandmother’s driver awkwardly took hold of me and carried me into their carriage then we took off in the opposite direction. When it finally sank in that I had been deserted by Daddy, that he wasn’t going to take me with him, I sat back, stunned and dismayed. I had no fight left in me.

  Grandmother kept a trivial smirk on her face that sent shivers through me. She was nothing of what I’d expected if I ever did have a grandmother. There was nothing kind or sweet about her. She obviously didn’t have a loving bone in her old body.

  She didn’t say a word to me as we made our way down the dusty roads until we came upon a formerly glorious plantation. Above the long, live oak-lined entrance was an iron arch with the name Sutton Hall impressed on it. The two and a half-story stucco-brick mansion was ahead, surrounded by an abundance of fragrant magnolia trees, which must have been grand before being ravaged by the war. There were thick, green vines growing along the columned facade and double-wide front galleries. Some of the windows were broken, and all of them were filthy. The gardens were overgrown and full of weeds.

  The driver stopped in front, and Grandmother hurried me off the carriage. She pushed me forward and I fell out and down into the only puddle I had seen since my arrival in Georgia.

  “Get up!” she commanded.

  I was covered in mud and she had no sympathy for me. However, I could see some pity in the driver’s face, the Negro man Grandmother called Hamilton. I slowly rose, followed her up the stairs to the front entrance. Hamilton unhitched the horse and led it to the stables.

  “Take off your dress,” she said before we entered. I then realized Daddy had forgotten to give me my bag. I had nothing to change into.

  “But I have no clothes,” I said, choking back my tears.

  “There are clothes in your mother’s old wardrobe. Now do as I say!”

  She wanted me to undress out in the open. I was mortified. When I hesitated, she began to forcefully unbutton my dress. She became impatient and violently stripped off my dress until I was in nothing but my chemise. I tried to cover myse
lf with my hands, fearing the whole world was looking at me, and I hid my tears with my long hair.

  “Now get on with it,” she hissed, and pushed me inside. The mansion in which she had insisted I not wear my muddy dress was empty and dirty. The wide wooden floors were covered in dust and mud. I didn’t understand why she made me undress.

  This was once my mother’s home, I thought. The woman that appeared to loath me had given Momma life? I couldn’t believe it.

  “Upstairs with you,” she said, ushering me up the enormous grand staircase, which was broken and missing balusters, to the second floor. Down the long, bare hall she led me until she stopped at the furthest door, and then said matter-of-factly, “Here is where you’ll be staying.”

  She unlocked the heavy wooden door to reveal a drab, dark room with a four poster bed and an armoire in the corner. There were no bed clothes, only a coarse mattress. There was no other furniture, except the lone armoire.

  “You will find what you need in the armoire. You look the size of Amelia the day she ran off with your dishonorable father, except,” she said, gazing down at my developing bosom, “your mother was much more voluptuous.”

  Grandmother stepped back towards the door as I tried to find words to speak. I was distraught, so much so that I didn’t know how to ask the questions that burned in my mind. Was she really my grandmother? Did Momma really run off with Daddy when she was thirteen? She frightened me; she looked at me as though I were one of the freaks in the sideshows of the circus Heath, Ayden, and I went to long ago.

  “I will have your food sent up to you later,” Grandmother said, then closed the door and locked it. The sound of the key turning the lock sent my mind screaming. I was being locked away, just like Momma. I wasn’t out of my senses. Why was I being shut away? I could do nothing but bring my hands to my face and cry. Sobs filled the room and bounced off every wall. It was the worst day of my life.

  Never before had I felt so unloved and unwanted. I craved Daddy; I missed Opal, the woman who had become like a mother to me. I longed for Ayden to cheer me up with his silly antics, and most of all, I missed Heath. If he knew what had happened to me, for sure he would tell his father to have Daddy come get me and take me back to Jasper Island. I didn’t know what to think and could only fall onto the bed and curl up in a ball, wishing myself away. I wiped my tears and closed my eyes and thought back to my last day at the lighthouse station. That day had changed the entire course of my life. I had planned to end it, yet here I was, in a new place with new, unbearable beginnings. Heath and I had parted on adverse terms, and I regretted not listening to him and causing him to be angry with me. I missed him terribly, so much so it hurt my heart just to envision his handsome face in the back of my mind. I was so emotionally drained, so tired from regrets and incomprehension of what had just happened to me, that I wasn’t aware I had fallen asleep until I was harshly shaken awake.

  Grandmother towered over me holding a candle in one hand and a plate of food in the other. The glow of the flame cast an eerie shadow over her that made me instantly sit up and back away to the farthest part of the bed.

  “What aren’t you dressed?” she demanded. “Get up and get dressed!”

  I flew up and ran to the armoire and pulled out the first dress I got my hands on. I was shaking so terribly that I couldn’t get the dress over my head fast enough. With fury in her eyes, she spun around and left, again locking the door behind her.

  “Wait!” I called, running to the door. The room was black; there was no table or lamp in the room.

  “Please don’t keep me locked in here!” I wailed.

  There was no answer; there was not one soul that would come and help me. My heart pounding in my chest and my stomach in knots, I felt my way around the room with my hands pressing up along the dust-covered walls until I finally found the heavy drapes to the window. I pulled them back to reveal the moon. I was so thankful that there was a full moon and clear skies, allowing just enough moonlight to fill the room. I slumped down to the floor and again curled up, trembling and trying to rock myself calm. How could Daddy leave me in such a place? What was I to think? What would I do without him? He had promised it would only be for a little while. I hoped and prayed I could last until Daddy came to take me away from my hell on Earth that was Sutton Hall.

  _______________

  Chapter Fourteen

  For two nights and three days, Grandmother kept me locked up without food or water, punishing me just because I existed. I couldn’t imagine what I did to deserve such torture; I couldn’t understand how Daddy could ever think being in the care of my grandmother, who hated everything about me, could be better than living with him on a remote lighthouse station.

  During my isolation I spent every hour that I could trying to remain asleep. There was no reason to rise when the sun came up; one day was no different from the next, until finally the door unlocked, and Grandmother declared that I was now allowed to eat. I was so sick from lack of nourishment that I could barely rise when she came in to leave the plate on the floor. She didn’t stay, but she had Hamilton come in and remove my chamber pot. He tried hard not to look at me. He was a very large older man with salt and pepper hair. His face was wrinkled and very worn. And just as I thought he was turning to go, he picked up my plate and kindly laid it beside me on the bed. Then he hurried out before Grandmother saw that he had helped me in any way. He was frightened of her—that I could see.

  On my plate were two pieces of a kind of corn bread. That was all. I was fortunate to have a glass of milk, also left on the floor. I was able to keep down the food in my stomach, and by the time I drank the milk, I felt somewhat better. With some energy returned, I was able to get up and go over to the wardrobe. I was curious to see what it held, if anything other than a half-dozen beautiful dresses. I moved them aside, and to my delight, I found a rag doll, a candle, some matches, several books, a slate, and one small piece of chalk. It didn’t take me long to open one of the books and begin to read The House of the Seven Gables.

  The book immediately drew me in, and I found myself passing the hours, my mind completely captivated by the story. The chilling tale reminded me all too well of the gypsy I met years before and Momma’s fear of witches. This, after all, was Momma’s book. Was that what instilled her fears? Was there even more to the story that correlated with Momma’s life than I could have ever even imagined? Was Sutton Hall anything like The House of the Seven Gables? Would Sutton Hall reveal ghosts and witches and family curses? The thought frightened me. I hoped never to find out; I planned to be long gone before the ghosts of Sutton Hall had any chance to reveal themselves. Daddy would come to bring me back with him. He would realize he had to live without Momma, but he certainly didn’t have to live without me. Daddy would soon need me by his side and return me to the only place I would ever feel safe. The lighthouse.

  It didn’t matter where the lighthouse was—on a remote and isolated stretch of land far out in the Atlantic Ocean, or with any luck, back on Jasper Island. I had taken my world, my life, for granted. Maybe I should have appreciated Momma more and understood Daddy’s loss. Perhaps I could have been more understanding with Heath and given Ayden more attention. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would in a second. I wished and wished each night that I lay alone in the eerie old mansion, that the day would come that I would have the opportunity to see them all again.

  I read book after book, and a week at Sutton Hall passed. Grandmother sent my meager food up only once a day, and I lost weight rapidly. If she noticed, she didn’t say. Every time she entered the room to deliver the plate, I begged for my freedom, pleaded with her to telegram Daddy and have him come and get me. She ignored my cries; she refused to look at me.

  “Why am I here if you hate me?” I asked one hot afternoon in the stuffy room. She was there to retrieve the plate and then leave. When she didn’t answer, I stood and demanded she let me out of the room. “You can’t keep me locked in here forever!”
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  Even Momma, who was completely out of her mind, managed to find a way out, even if that meant she had to be sent to an asylum.

  Grandmother’s eyes narrowed and she took several steps towards the bed.

  “Oh, can’t I?” she hissed. “I learned something from your mother, and that is that all girls, when they start to come into flower, should be locked away. If I had only known better, I wouldn’t have the burden of you today.”

  I didn’t know what she meant. She saw my bewilderment.

  “Amelia was a beautiful girl; every man desired her. I warned her. But she was wild and full of sin; she didn’t heed my warning, and it wasn’t long before she was with child from a most unholy union.” Her face twisted in disgust, and she looked at me, shooting daggers with her stone-cold eyes.

  That child was me, but I wasn’t unholy. I was as pure as their marriage, as wholesome as their love.

  “Without a doubt, you are the exact image of your mother—inside and out,” she said. She made an about-face and slammed the door behind her. I didn’t believe what Grandmother said had an ounce of truth. Momma was wholesome; she only had eyes for Daddy. Indeed, she was beautiful, much more beautiful than her own mother. Maybe that’s why Grandmother hated Momma and made up terrible lies about her—because she was jealous. I was fortunate to be just like Momma; there was no reason for me ever to take Grandmother’s words as an insult. The next time she came to the room to deliver my meal, I would tell her so.

  Hours passed slowly, and even though I spent most of my time reading, which helped take my mind off my dreadful imprisonment, I wanted more than anything to be free. It was difficult to concentrate on anything but that. Between reading and sleeping, I devised plans to escape. I thought of climbing out the window, but it was high up, and I was afraid of falling and breaking all my bones. I could tackle Grandmother, knock her down, and run out of the room. But there was Hamilton, who would be there to catch me and bring me back. My options were limited, my boredom was excruciating, my life dismal. There was a chance I could go mad, just like Momma. There was nothing else to do but lose all sense of reality in such circumstances.