"Oh, child, I'm sorry. For a moment, I thought…" Her words trailed off and she appeared uncertain. "Well, come along, child, dinner's waiting." Turning abruptly, the old woman tried to control her amazement at Ariel's appearance.
Ariel followed, wondering who Amelia was.
11
After dinner, instead of discussing the house and its unusual history, Miss Josephine sat in silence for nearly ten minutes. As the minutes ticked off, she grew more and more pale until she was almost green.
Ariel wondered if her dinner wasn't sitting well. She had the same pained expression Eleanor Harrell had worn last year at school just before she would race to the bathroom to puke. That was before it became common knowledge that Eleanor had gotten herself "in the family way". Ariel wanted to help her, but didn't have a clue what topic she wanted to bring up.
Finally, Miss Josephine spoke. "Tell me about your mother. About your family."
"There's not much to tell. My mother wasn't married when she had me. I don't know anything about my father. Mama abandoned me when I was about four. I bounced from foster home to foster home. After about two dozen homes, I was labeled a troublemaker and too much of a problem to be handled in a regular foster home. When I was fourteen, I threatened my social worker and was sent to the training school near Asheville. I trained to be a housekeeper. And a waitress. And a bartender. I have my GED and am trained to work in any hotel, restaurant or bar. The teachers told me if I straightened out my attitude, I should be able to find and keep a job.”
The old woman remained silent, waiting for the girl to continue. So she did. “I’ve worked a number of jobs, but I always knew there was something else I should be doing, someplace else I should be.”
“Rightly so, my dear. You’ve done a superb job here. This is not your normal everyday household, and you’ve adapted well to our eccentricities. But what of your mother? Do you remember anything about her, where she might be, what happened to her? Anything at all?” Miss Josephine leaned forward, her eyes pleading for Ariel to give her the answers she was looking for.
"I don't remember anything about her. The welfare people and social workers told me she was a hooker, a whore," Ariel elaborated when the confused expression crossed her employer's expression, "but I don't think so. I think she was just mixed up and not on the right track. According to the short note attached to my shirt, her name was Amelia and I was named for my grandmother who named her for her great grandmother."
"I do have one thing they never took from me. It was wrapped around my neck three times when I wandered into the police station beside the police officer who found me. It's the only thing I had that belonged to her."
"What is that?"
"A necklace. An old pearl and diamond and gold necklace. It's the only thing I have left. No matter how hard times get, I’ll never sell it. Someday I'll give it to my daughter, if I ever have one."
“Hidden inside the jewelry box I recently found a photo of a woman who looks like me. She’s sitting on the front porch.” Ariel hoped this information would jog some memory, but she wasn’t planning on it. “The front porch of this house.”
“Photo? What is this photo?” Miss Josephine looked blank for a second before asking. “Might I see your necklace? I just love old jewelry. Maybe I can tell you something about it.”
Ariel was silent for a moment. Something in Miss Josephine's eyes compelled her to share her only family treasure. Something bigger was at work here.
"All right. Let's go upstairs."
Miss Josephine followed her up the stairs. But she didn't enter her bedroom. She stood in the hall just outside while Ariel fetched the leather box from the bottom of her dufflebag. Carrying the box to the dresser, she opened it, extracting both the necklace and the photograph before she turned to Miss Josephine.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she said, holding up the long necklace.
The gold had mellowed with age, and the pearls had grown more translucent, but it was obvious someone had taken care of the necklace. Miss Josephine's eyes widened as if she recognized the piece of jewelry. A mysterious smile crossed her lips before she spoke.
"Yes, my dear, it is beautiful. And from the style and use of the pearls, I'd say it was more than a hundred and fifty years old. A beautiful piece and in excellent condition. It is truly a beautiful heirloom to pass on to your daughter. Thank you for sharing it with me." She nodded to herself.
“This is the photograph,” Ariel extended the paper. Miss Josephine studied the image, but did not touch it.
“Oh, that’s Annabelle. She was here two, or was it three, caretakers ago. She couldn’t handle our secrets and left in the middle of a hurricane. I never did hear what happened to her.” Miss Josephine turned away. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll retire for the evening.”
"Good night, Miss Josephine."
“Good night, my dear.”
Ariel placed the necklace back in its box, then returned to the living room. The storm hadn't hit yet, but the air was heavy. Ariel was lethargic, but knew she wouldn’t sleep. She sat on the horsehair sofa, lost in thought about the issues Miss Josephine had brought up with her questions. What about her mother? Who was she? Where was she? Why was Miss Josephine interested? Did she know something Ariel didn't about the necklace? If so, would she share the information if Ariel asked?
Her thoughts drifted until the Major joined her. The drapes across the room shifted and swayed, as if someone had pushed them aside to gaze out the window. Ariel put it down to the blustery winds outside, though all the windows remained sealed. Frowning, she wasn’t surprised when the masculine scents she identified the Major by surrounded her; horses, tobacco, leather and healthy male.
How did he do that? She worried that question a moment before she felt his heat as a warm palm curled over her shoulder. The hand moved down her arm, coming to rest over the hands she’d folded demurely in her lap. The warmth covered her hands for a long time. He remained silent, there beside her if she needed him, but content not to break the silence for now. A moment later, Ariel almost wished she'd retired with Miss Josephine. Heat caressed her face as if he'd pressed a kiss to her cheek, then a second to her temple.
The man was a ghost, yet he was boldly making a pass at her. If only she could see him. She’d like to be sure it was his lips that were brushing against her, not just the strength of her daydreams.
"Major?" she whispered, breathlessly.
"Yes, love?" The voice was hushed. His voice seemed to be becoming more concentrated in one spot, as if he were growing stronger.
"Can you make yourself visible? It frightens me to have a ghost in the room and not know where you are." She sounded breathless. His ghost kisses and caresses caused her body to betray the hunger she felt.
Never before had she experienced such strong desire. At least not with a living, breathing male. Was she destined to be the next Josephine Best, residing among ghosts because they were the comfortable, loving companions she'd longed for her entire life? Or would she, once things were straightened out here, be able to go back out into the world and find a man as warm and as caring as the Major seemed to be?
"If the conditions are right and I feel the need to show myself I can. But I don't want you to see me as a spirit. I'd rather you see me as a flesh and bone man when we meet for the first time." The tone was soothing, but Ariel only heard his refusal, not his dream. His warmth trailed up her arm and brushed against the side of her breast.
Feeling betrayed and at the same time as if she were betraying Miss Anna, she jumped to her feet. He would never have attempted such liberties with Miss Anna. Why would he try such things with her? What was he pushing for? To what lengths would he go to get what he wanted?
She meant to flee the room but paused at the doorway. "Show yourself, Major. Maybe then you won't scare the help spitless when you decide to pop out of nowhere." Her voice broke as she screeched angrily at the seemingly empty room.
Silence met her demands. She tur
ned and bolted toward her room. Halfway up the stairs she jerked to a halt with a muttered curse. The candle Miss Josephine lit each evening to light the living room during their talks was still burning. She hadn't blown it out. If it burnt all the way down or tipped over, a fire could burn the old house to the ground in a few minutes. She had to go back and douse the flame. Instead of escaping to the relative safe haven of her room, she turned and dragged herself back to the living room.
Pausing in the doorway, she scanned the room. She wasn't sure what she expected, but the room appeared empty. And there, on the low round table next to Miss Josephine's chair, the candle burned a bright, flickering flame in its fancy brass candlestick.
She crossed to the table, her intention being simply to snuff out the candle. Then she would retrace her steps as fast as her size eights would carry her. Once she reached her safe haven, she would bolt the door, draw the drapes and quietly have a long awaited nervous breakdown.
Halfway to the table, she paused, her attention drawn from the flickering flame to the leather chair to her right. There, in the corner, deep in the shadows, something moved. Was it the Major, or was John in the process of fulfilling Mamie's prophecy of coming for her? Turning only her head, she focused on that dark area just beyond the candlelight's fluttering reach. The flickering light and dim shadows obscured her vision, but she was certain she saw an outline of a man, standing tall and proud.
"Major?" Her voice was too weak and hoarse to carry beyond the tip of her nose, but she just knew the Major had taken it in his head to prove his worth.
The corner remained silent. Was the shadow nothing more than a figment of her imagination? Or had he really been there? Had the Major just shown her he valued her? Or was she dreaming yet again?
Suddenly a whole new series of questions and concerns hit her. If the Major could rejoin body and soul, then what of Miss Anna? Could she enter the body of another? Or would only her body do? Was that what she'd been hired for? Was Mamie planning to replace her life spirit, her soul with Miss Anna’s? Was that how the lovers would be reunited like Miss Josephine said?
Turning, she raced up the stairs so fast she wasn't sure she'd touched a single step. Once in her room, she slammed the door, then pulled the rocker from the corner and shoved it under the door handle. Would that provide any protection? Would it even slow down an intruder?
Once the door was secured, she pulled the drapes closed, shutting out the flat black-gray skies that continued to pop and crackle and rumble with thunder and far off lightening. Ariel stripped off the beautiful gown and pulled on her own clothes; her favorite jeans and a Biltmore House T-shirt. She needed the comfort of her favorite, well-worn things. Then, pulling out the pocketknife she'd bought herself before leaving Asheville, she took up a defensive position against whatever may come after her.
With knees pulled protectively to her chest, she began her vigil. She wrapped her arms around her knees, all the time holding tight to the knife, praying the small blade would defend her against whatever might come through the door. Or the wall. Or the floor.
As minutes turned into one hour, then another, tension drained away and lethargy snuck up on her. Shaking her head several times, she straightened her legs and arms, stretching cramped muscles and reviving body parts that had begun to tingle and fall asleep with lack of blood.
Sleep refused to remain at bay. Another few minutes passed before her head dropped to her knees and her grip on the knife loosened. The hunk of metal dropped noiselessly to the bed.
When she woke, the drapes were open, allowing the early morning sun to stream in. The rocking chair was back in its corner, facing the windows. Her knife was closed and sitting on the dresser. She was under the covers of her bed, still wearing her clothes.
It was the heat that woke her up. Jumping out of bed, she stripped down to her racy, but sensible, white cotton panties. After she'd cooled, she pulled on the first thing within reach, a lemon yellow cotton gown. She felt cooler and more comfortable immediately, as if her jeans were the foreign clothes to wear, not the nineteenth century gown.
At breakfast, she tried to broach the questions of the Major's appearance, body takeover, spirit splitting, and the rearranging of things in her locked room with Miss Josephine, but clearly the old woman’s attention was directed elsewhere.
"I'm not at all sure about these powers you claim Mamie might possess. You'll have to speak with her about what you believed happened." The woman stopped shoveling food into her mouth just long enough to answer.
More and more it seemed that Miss Josephine's entire reason for living was to devour as many of Mamie's delicacies as possible. It amazed Ariel every time they ate to see the amount of food this tiny bird of a woman could pack away.
Once she'd cleared her plate for the third time, Miss Josephine swept away, disappearing up to her room as she did every day. Ariel remained at the table a few minutes longer before entering the kitchen. She wasn't sure what she might learn, but she knew in her heart that something momentous was just over the horizon and bearing down on them like a speeding eighteen-wheeler with a trailer full of lead weights.
When she entered the kitchen, she wasn't sure she wanted to ask the questions that didn’t make any sense to her. Certainly the answers would be even more confusing. What she wanted to know this moment most of all was where she fit into the puzzle. Perhaps that should be her tact today. What was her part in Mamie's magic?
But Mamie wasn't in the kitchen. She wasn't in the enclosed yard behind the house either. Ariel looked everywhere, except in the tiny hut the trio of slaves called home. That was their place and she would never invade their privacy without an invitation. Since she couldn't find Mamie, she backtracked through the enclosure to the barn. The kittens were now big enough to stray from their mother's side so she settled down and let them climb on her.
When the kittens tired of her company and scrambled back to mama for their next meal, she left the roughhewn building. She crossed the enclosure toward the kitchen, her head bent to brush the dirt from her dress. The wrestling match of the three kittens had left her pretty dress covered with tiny paw prints.
As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, she wondered if she should return to the barn for a while longer. Mamie was slamming pots and pans around as she muttered under her breath. Obviously something had not gone according to her plans.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" She took one step further into the kitchen, hoping that an offer of assistance would calm the aggravated woman.
Mamie turned from her work and examined Ariel, taking in her disheveled hair, dusty dress and dirty hands. Bare toes peeked out from under the hem of her dress. "Oh, my, ain't you a sight! Miz Josephine was sure you'd up and disappeared beyond dem bushes. I kept tellin' her that you was safe. Now git on upstairs and clean yo'self up."
Ariel allowed herself to be shooed from the kitchen. Before the day was out, Ariel vowed that she would understand the happenings of the house. She'd let things go for too long already.
After lunch, Ariel helped Etta carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen, then settled into the straight back chair in the corner of the kitchen. This was the signal to Mamie that she needed some of her special brand of counseling. The black woman studied her for a moment and nodded. A few minutes later, she eased her bulk into the stout rocking chair.
"So, Miz Ariel, you have mo’ questions for old Mamie, eh?”
"I had another encounter with the Major last night. He told me that he could make himself visible, if he wanted. I asked him to show himself, but he refused. I left the room but returned a moment later. I thought I saw a man in the corner. Could it have been the Major?" Ariel's voice was low and husky.
"It coulda been da Major, or it coulda been just a shadow. If the Major wanted hisself seen, you'd see him. Don't badger da man, soundin' like an old fishwife. You jes’ gotta be mo' patient and believe."
Ariel had only one question burning her brain. "Where do I fit into this mag
ic of yours?”
12
"Why, Miz Ariel, you is da magic, the final ingredient. You gotsta be here for da magic to take hold. All I needs is yo' trust and believin' that what happens is a powerful gift, not just ole Mamie's hocus pocus. You must believe the Major's body and soul will be reunited.” Mamie spoke as if she took great delight in confusing Ariel with her non-information and riddle-like statements.
“But, Mamie, the Major and Anna were meant to be together. If the Major is to reenter his body, what will become of Miss Anna? Will she be taking over my body? Do I have to die so she can have my body? I don't want to die, Mamie.”
Ariel knew she was begging, but she couldn't help herself. She had so many things she wanted to do with her life. She didn't want to die so that her physical body could become a container for someone else's spirit. Someone who lived so very many years ago. How would Miss Anna survive in the twenty-first century?
"Now, Miz Ariel, that's not what's gonna happen, so you jest settle yo'self down. You ain't gonna die. Miz Anna don't want to kill yo' spirit. You're the stronger one and she knows dat. Maybe that's why she was kilt..." Mamie said, then was silent for so long Ariel knew she'd fallen asleep.
A nap seemed like a good idea. Especially after the strange events of the night before, and the even stranger things Mamie spoke of. She didn't tell Ariel what her role would be, she’d claimed Ariel was the magic.
But how could that be? She was just a street-wise kid who'd experienced more of the dark side of life than most. She wasn't technically skilled, but she knew how to protect herself. Until now that had always meant staying away from emotional entanglements. But she couldn't do that any longer. She was drawn to this place, to the house and to the Major. What would Miss Anna do to her if she found out they were attracted to the same man?
Instead of resting, Ariel sat in the rocker in her room, watching the breeze play through the treetops outside. The landscapers had finished this side of the yard and were working on the other side of the house, out of sight of her room. She didn't have to see John, thank goodness.
Magic and Shadows: A Collection of YA Fantasy and Paranormal Romances Page 122
