Reign of Silence

by Tony Martin

  “Uh … what are we doing?” asked Christine, holding back.

  Meredith didn’t answer. Instead, she walked over to the largest tombstone, that of Eleazar. She leaned against the stone, resting her cheek on its rough surface.

  “Here’s where it all began,” she said.

  “Where what began?”

  “Everything. All of it.” Meredith gestured grandly, toward the house, the fields, the ruined outbuildings. “I’m a product of all this. I’m who I am and where I am because of the people buried here.”

  “What are you getting at?” Christine asked. She could feel her pulse beating in her temple.

  “Christine,” said Meredith, “I’m the last of the local Duboses. I’m not so naïve as to not know about the history of my family. Mamma and Daddy never talked too much about any of it, but I knew anyway. I knew my grandfather was not a nice man. I know he died when I was little, but I still remember him. And it seems like my family has had this dark cloud over it for years and years and years.”

  “But Meredith,” said Christine plaintively, “all of our families have things we’re not proud of, things that were wrong. We’ve all got black sheep.”

  “Yeah,” said Meredith, “but how much of what they did still lingers to hurt us? My ancestors were great ones for keeping secrets. They had this fine reputation to uphold in St. Helena.”

  “You aren’t responsible for what anyone who came before you did,” said Christine.

  “Maybe not, but they’re responsible for who I am,” said Meredith.

  “Meredith, that’s not so,” said Christine. “You’re responsible for who you are. Besides, your parents were great.”

  “How do you know?” asked Meredith bitterly. “We’ve always done a good job at keeping secrets. It’s almost as though the Duboses have just let darkness reign in our family … we’d rather die than to let others know the truth.”

  This took Christine aback. “Sis … I don’t know what to say.”

  Meredith relaxed a little. “You don’t have to say anything. You’re right. My parents were the best imaginable. But there’s a lot of rumor about my ancestors – some, if not most of it, true.”

  “So what?” asked Christine. “That was then – this is now. What good can come of looking backwards?”

  “Nothing,” said Meredith, shrugging. “Not a thing.”

  “Can we go now?” asked Christine. “You’ve got your car.”

  “Yeah. Fine,” said Meredith. She walked to Christine’s side, closing the gate behind her.

  As the two girls made their way to their cars, Christine happened to glance up at the back of the house. She felt the blood drain from her face. For there, for the briefest of moments, she had seen a man’s face peering at them from a second floor window. She knew it was not her imagination, nor a trick of light and shadow. The man was laughing at them.

  Without a word to Meredith, Christine moved briskly to her car, with Meredith close behind. Thankfully, Meredith was engrossed in her own thoughts – she’d not noticed Christine’s sudden panic, nor, apparently, had she seen the face at the window.

  Christine slid behind the steering wheel, hands trembling as she fumbled for her keys. She resolved not to say a word to Meredith – nor to say a word to anyone. Perhaps she’d talk to Joshua later.

  But she knew, as she drove down the driveway beneath the overarching oaks, that she had to accept the unthinkable. What she had accepted and assumed as reality – the tangible, flesh and blood, substantive world she’d known – no longer had a foundation. For all the horror movies she’d seen, from the ghost stories she’d heard from childhood, she had to wrap her mind around a blazingly inarguable fact – she was experiencing the supernatural firsthand.

  Joshua came home from the church and collapsed in his recliner. He pulled off his shoes and dropped them to one side. He closed his eyes. Bethany came and stood over him.

  “I got a call from Mrs. Dale just before you got here,” she said.

  “And?”

  “Well, she just wanted to let you know the Braggs were upset with you, because Kathleen Bragg had open heart surgery in Dothan today, and you didn’t even call, much less go see about them.”

  “Mrs. Dale is a busybody,” said Joshua.

  “Maybe. But you still should’ve at least called.”

  Joshua opened his eyes to see Bethany glaring at him. “I’ll call them right now,” he said, reaching for the phone.

  “Joshua,” said Bethany, “I knew this would happen. You’re so engrossed in this whole Dubose thing that you’re letting other things slip.”

  “I’ll try to do better,” Joshua said, avoiding her gaze.

  Bethany squatted by his chair, coming to his eye level. “You need to hear something about yourself, my dear.”

  Joshua laid down the phone. “What?” he said.

  “You may not be able to tell a difference in yourself these past few days, but I sure can,” said Bethany, her voice level. “You’ve been distant and preoccupied. You’ve only acknowledged me when it suited you. I don’t begrudge you for wanting to help. But it looks like I’m the only one in your life right now who can steer you toward looking after yourself. This is becoming an obsession.”

  “So what do you want me to do? I can’t quit!”

  “Take some walks with me. Call some guys and play golf. Something.” Bethany shook her head. “I know you can’t quit. But you can get a little balance, can’t you?”

  Joshua thought about this a moment. “Well, I am getting some help. Al’s cousin from New Orleans is willing to come and give us some direction.”

  “Is he a minister?” asked Bethany.

  Joshua laughed wearily. “No, not exactly. He’s a paranormal investigator.”

  Bethany rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother,” she said. “What will the neighbors say?”

  “The neighbors don’t need to know anything,” said Joshua. “Al knows, since he pointed me in his cousin’s direction. The Tracys will know soon enough – Jimmy’s gonna love this. And Meredith, of course, will be in on it.”

  “What ever happened to the idea of calling your seminary prof?”

  “That’s on hold,” said Joshua. “I want to give Precious a chance first because, well, this is what he does.”

  “Precious?”

  “I didn’t name him. Look, we’ve got something going on in the Dubose household that I’m obliged to classify as paranormal. Call it a haunting, a possession, whatever – but it’s not something like I’ve ever seen. I preach this sermon on Saul and a witch, and doggone if some of the elements in that story are coming to light in my own life.” Joshua softened his voice. “And I need to know you’re being supportive, and can let me work through this in a way that seems right to me.”

  Bethany took his hand, held it. “Man, you sure know how to disarm a girl,” she said. “I’m right here with you. Always. But I’ve got to play Jiminy Cricket, too – when your conscience isn’t working so good, I can kick in, can’t I?”

  “I don’t think my conscience is the issue here. Sanity, maybe.”

  “You are such a goober,” said Bethany. “You’re all but drooling in anticipation. This stuff is right up your alley.”

  “Right up my alley to a dead end, maybe,” said Joshua. He closed his eyes again.

  Bethany kissed him on the forehead. “So, do I have your permission to worry about you, just a little?”

  “Fret not thyself,” said Joshua.

  “Call the Braggs and make things right,” said Bethany.

  “Yeah, right,” said Joshua, reaching for the phone again. In moments, he was finessing his way out of an embarrassing mistake, and once more, Bethany marveled at what a clever man she’d married, in spite of herself. She couldn’t help but wonder if his cleverness would serve him in the situation with the Dubose girl.

  Bethany wondered for a moment if Meredith hadn’t been so unspeakably pretty, Joshua would be investing so much energy in her. But she let t
he thought pass.

  Chapter Ten – Chance Meeting

  Joshua’s night was troubled by incoherent dreams, and he awoke the next morning sluggish and disoriented. Typically, he took Fridays off, but over breakfast, told Bethany he was going in to work for a while.

  “Suit yourself,” said Bethany. “I’ve got to do some shopping. See you around lunch?”

  “Yeah,” answered Joshua. “Lunch is good.”

  Pulling on jeans and a light sweater – there was a chill in the air – Joshua went to the church. He told Gretchen that he’d only be there a while, and should anyone call, to tell them that he would be away from his desk most of the day.

  “You sure are being sneaky these days,” said Gretchen.

  “I’m on a mission from God,” Joshua said sarcastically. “Seriously, I need to massage my sermon a little.”

  Joshua pulled his notes together for Sunday morning’s sermon, but try as he might, he had no focus. He flipped through commentaries, books of illustrations, and finished roughing out an outline.

  “Well, God,” he said, “You’d better show up, ‘cause I’m not up to snuff on this one.”

  Joshua worked halfheartedly for a half-hour, still trying to get his thoughts to cooperate with the task on hand. He was struggling. His mind kept turning back to the whole bizarre situation surrounding Meredith Dubose. He asked the age-old existential question: “Why?” Why Meredith? Why now? And why the strange attraction toward Meredith?

  This last thought troubled Joshua. He reminded himself that he had the best wife imaginable – he called her his “righteous hottie.” He couldn’t be more contented. Yet there was a constant gnaw at the corner of his conscience; he kept reconstructing Meredith in his imagination, and while he wouldn’t have classified these thoughts as fantasizing, he knew that unless he guarded his mind, he’d move into a dangerous area.

  “What is it with you men?” Bethany asked him once, after she had rebuffed him for getting too physical on a date. Joshua, embarrassed, made some unconvincing excuse about men being hormonally driven; it was, for whatever reason, how God had made us, he reasoned. And while Joshua and Bethany had drawn clear-cut lines about what was appropriate physically prior to their wedding, they both struggled – Joshua being the instigator, Bethany being the “watch it, buster,” voice of conscience.

  And now, after years of a great marriage, for the first time, he found himself tempted by another female. Actually, as he tried to mentally organize his feelings, it wasn’t a sexual temptation (was it?) as much as it was an encroaching obsession – a misplaced desire, perhaps, to “fix” things. This whole situation, he recognized, was taking more and more of his time, and even if he were about other business, he constantly thought about Meredith.

  Joshua’s fascination with the situation had boomeranged. When he first preached his Samuel sermon, it was a fluff message. He simply wanted to tackle a difficult passage and use the account of Samuel and the medium as a vehicle to show how easy it was to step out of God’s will. When confronted with the Dubose situation, he kicked into full-fledged skeptic mode. After all, no rational person believed in ghosts! What’s more, his theology didn’t accommodate “hauntings.”

  Now – did he believe? How could he explain all he’d seen and heard?

  Wearily, he reached for the phone and called Al. “Al,” he said, “I’m asking Precious to come and work with the Dubose situation.”

  “Josh, I think you’re wise, even if it doesn’t seem ‘right,’” said Al. “Just let me know later when he’s coming, and I’ll give him a call. He can stay with us.”

  “Fine. Thanks.”

  Joshua found himself hesitant. Bethany kidded - “what would the neighbors say?” – yet he knew that most of his congregation would never understand how their pastor could actually believe in all this nonsense. He realized he would have to be very careful, even deceptive.

  Seeing that his sermon wasn’t going to complete itself, Joshua returned to his notes … for every bit of five minutes. Disgustedly, he shoved his work in a folder, found Precious’ number, and called.

  “Precious,” said Joshua, after reaching him, “I think I want you to come give us your assessment of this situation.”

  “Outstanding!” Precious was delighted. “I’ll give it my best shot. Just keep an open mind, OK?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Fine. Now, I’ll leave New Orleans early Monday morning, and that should get me to St. Helena in the middle of the afternoon. I’d like to take an initial look at the property, without using any equipment, and then we’ll start in earnest Tuesday.”

  “Sounds fine.” Joshua continued to grapple with what was forthcoming.

  “In the meantime, I want you to put together a team of observers. I’m guessing you want to keep this in the family, so to speak?”

  “Of course,” said Joshua. “I don’t need to involve people who aren’t already in the loop. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Absolutely. If you can put together a group of seven or so, then we should be able to go from there. Make sure the group has males and females.”

  “And skeptics?” asked Joshua. “Do you want folks who believe in all this, or do you want those who can’t accept any of it? I mean, will skeptics, uh, mess up the vibrations or whatever?”

  Precious roared with laughter. “It doesn’t matter – skeptics, believers, whatever. You don’t want anyone looking for attention or publicity, though. Obviously, Meredith will have to be part of the group. Just recruit them – all they’ll need are notepads to journal what they experience. I’ll provide the rest.”

  “OK,” said Joshua. He felt queasy. “See you Monday, then.”

  Joshua hung up, feeling thoroughly overwhelmed. He got up, stretched, and then on impulse went into the outer office. “I’m going on a quick visit,” he told Gretchen, not giving her a chance to respond.

  Climbing into his car, Joshua felt an urge to get away from town for a few minutes. Joshua loved to drive; in his single days, he was prone to hit the road without any thought as to where he was going. He enjoyed following the old rural farm market roads wherever they took him. He’d stop at little churches, spend a few pleasant minutes prowling the old graveyards, looking for Confederate soldier graves and sentimental epitaphs. Perhaps, he thought as he left town, some idle time might give him the opportunity to get his bearings, get a touch of pragmatism and reality, which had seemed to leave him.

  Joshua drove for almost a half hour without meeting another car. He saw the occasional farmhouse, a pack of feral dogs tussling and snarling by the roadside, and buzzards feasting on road kill. Abruptly, he looked around and realized he had no idea where he was.

  “Yikes,” he said, looking for something to help him get his bearings. While being lost in Pelham County was certainly no emergency, he did realize that he’d promised Bethany to be home for lunch – and he wasn’t sure which way home was.

  Traveling on instinct, Joshua drove until he came to a crossroads with a dilapidated country store. An askew Coca-Cola sign, mottled with rust, announced that this was once P. J. Beckham’s Store. A Colonial Bread Company screen door hung from one hinge. Joshua felt a lonely twinge at seeing what was once a thriving little community. Such was the rural south.

  Joshua stopped, then turned right, feeling one direction was as good as the next. He felt he was somewhere north of town, and hoped that at some point soon he’d recognize some landmark. Not wanting to get in trouble with Bethany, he pulled out his cell phone – and, to no surprise, he saw he had no signal.

  After a few miles of no civilization, he was delighted to arrive at a familiar location – this county road ended at Alabama Highway 187. Joshua knew he could take 187 back to town. Thankful to have his bearings, Joshua turned right toward town. Within a couple of miles, he came up on another familiar sight – the drive leading to the Dubose mansion.

  Joshua realized he still had a key to the mansion and, almost as though his ca
r was on autopilot, he found himself turning down the drive to the house. He swallowed hard; he had no idea what he would do once he arrived.

  Compulsively, Joshua pulled up behind Bernadine’s car, left earlier. Exiting his own car, he stepped back, taking in the façade of the house. In the bright morning sun, the home looked unexceptional. A few crows circled and cawed above; otherwise, it was perfectly quiet.

  Joshua took the house key from his pocket, idly twirling it around his index finger. “Think I’ll have a look around,” he said, unlocking the door. Absurdly, he had no idea why he was here, or what he might be looking for – but it just seemed to be the thing to do.

  He was surprised that his hand was trembling as he unlocked the front door. “Anyone home?” he asked, entering the great hall, and thinking he’d have a coronary if he’d heard an answer.

  Joshua walked into the parlor, then back to the library. Generations of Duboses scowled down at him from gilded frames. He noted by the unique leathery smell of old books, wishing he had the time and inclination to peruse the hundreds of old volumes shelved to ceiling height. Absently, he wondered if he might be trespassing … and noticed how quiet and normal everything was.

  He looked in the two downstairs bedrooms, strolled nonchalantly through the kitchen and two dining rooms, and caught himself whistling. Going upstairs, he didn’t go in what he knew to be Meredith’s room, but did peek into the other bedrooms, all neatly kept.

  On the second floor landing, around the corner toward the north bedrooms, Joshua noted the small staircase that led to the attic. He surprised himself by climbing these stairs, dimly lit by one low-wattage bulb. At the top of the stairs was a locked door. Joshua rattled the doorknob, decided he could force the door if he really wanted to, and then thought better of it.

  Joshua went back downstairs to the kitchen. He wondered what Precious would make of all that had happened, and how he would approach this particular house. He found it hard to believe that someone could invest their lives in such a bizarre endeavor – that of paranormal investigator – then thought that there were plenty of jobs no less odd.