by Gene Baker
“Harley Baldwin.”
“Harley? Like the motorcycle?”
“Like the first name of the motorcycle company, yes.”
“That is a cool name!”
Harley had little to no patience with people when they danced around a subject or question. She had a tendency to be brutally honest and direct. This was a part of her nature that did not win her many friends.
“Now that we know each other’s names, what is it you really want to say?” She looked more closely at the boy named Cody as he fidgeted, trying to come up with an answer. He had a short, bad haircut that was obviously done at home by someone with shaky hands. Thick, black-rimmed glasses, the kind usually provided to poor children through government programs, saddled a narrow ski slope of a nose. His clothes were obvious hand-me-downs from a shorter person with a stockier build. His appearance virtually shouted, “Poor, neglected, and abused!” As Cody reflexively pushed his glasses back closer to his coffee brown eyes, he stuttered an answer to Harley’s question.
“That house you moved into. It has a pretty weird and dark history.” He turned his head slightly to be able to see the girl as she responded to his next question. “Did anyone tell you about it?”
A pang of empathy for the lonely boy washed over Harley. She was also more than a little curious about what he might tell her.
“Not much has been said to us but, sometimes, you don’t hafta be told anything. The house speaks for itself if you know how to listen.”
Cody’s heart started to beat faster and hammer the wall of his chest when the girl turned her head and smiled at him. She had an ever-so-slightly heart shaped face with a dimpled chin under full, pink lips. There was also a small, slightly upturned nose between cheeks lightly touched with freckles. Her long curls of auburn hair were pulled back behind her head in a ponytail that ended almost at the bottom of her back. However, what stood out most about the girl named Harley were her eyes. The irises were the same color green as the crystal pendant she wore around her neck and their mesmerizing effect burned into Cody’s brain as the sunlight sparkled in them. He was so taken by the vision that he almost didn’t hear what Harley was saying next.
“What ya’ got in the box?”
“What? Oh, not much. Just stuff that I thought you might be interested in if you want to know the real story behind the Hale House.”
Nikki Baldwin knew when Harley was reading her. The subtle changes in the girl’s eyes were all she needed to know that her daughter was seeing the disturbing news she had discovered. To change the unspoken subject, Nikki asked, “What’s in the box you have there?”
“You first, Mom.”
“Harley Elise, I am too tired and I really wish you would just answer my question, please.”
With a heavy sigh of annoyance, Harley sat down at the parlor table across from her mother.
“I told you about that dream I had last night and how real it was? Well, I went down to the creek and found everything that I had dreamed about just as it was!”
Moving her hand in a whirling motion to indicate that she was getting impatient with her daughter’s beginning to a drawn out explanation, Nikki grumbled.
“And?”
“I’m getting to it, Mother!” Harley growled. “I met that boy that has been hanging around watching us.”
“Shit, Harley! Didn’t that visit by Gaielos click with you? What if he had been an axe murderer or something? You can’t always rely on your aura vision to keep you safe!”
“Calm down, Mom! He has more to fear from others than we do from him.”
“You aggravating little shit!”
“Yeah, I know. I ‘lucked out’ this time. But, it all worked out for the good. He let me borrow this box of things he’s collected about this house, and Edwin Hale in particular.”
“And you don’t think that is just a little too creepy?” Nikki asked as she drew her best “angry face” closer to Harley’s.
Mimicking one of her psychologists, the younger Baldwin girl replied, “With what he goes through at home, I think he kind of admires Edwin as some kind of hero.”
“So, what you’re going to tell me is this Edwin Hale wasn’t the homicidal maniac that we have been led to believe?”
“What I’m saying is there is more to his story than what has been told. He was what he was made to be. Edgel Hale was the Doctor Frankenstein who created the monster that eventually killed him.”
Nikki glowered across the table at her hard-headed daughter. Once Harley got something in her mind that was the way it was going to be, just like her father.
“What is his name? This psychopath you have befriended?”
Harley saw her mother’s aura as it fluctuated between red hot anger and a much more pink tone of concern. She decided to appeal to Nikki’s motherly instincts.
“His name is Cody Taylor and he is a terribly neglected and abused boy just like Edwin was. Unlike young mister Hale, however, he can still be saved with a little friendship and trust.”
Nikki sat back in her chair.
“What’s in the box?” she asked tiredly. Harley turned off her aura vision and smiled.
“Lots of good stuff! Newspaper articles from the time, and get this!” Harley leaned closer to her mother and as if she were sharing a dark secret said, “Cody’s great-great grandfather was the doctor who did the autopsies on the Hale family!”
“Do you think he would let us copy these things to put in a display?” Nikki asked, trying not to show too much excitement over the prospect.
“I’ll ask him, but I’m sure he would be okay with it.”
Nikki began moving her finger over the camera screen in front of her.
“Excellent! Now, before we go any further, let me show you what I found! With the electricity coming back on, I decided I’d go up and take some pictures in the attic. Using a floodlight, I found something that we weren’t able to see yesterday. Ah, here it is, check this out!”
Nikki turned the camera’s high resolution screen around so that her daughter could see the image on it. The picture was of the rafter with EAH+♡+MVA carved on it. A faint brown stain that had not been clearly visible before was all-too evident now. With a slight quivering to her voice, Nikki asked, “What do you want to bet that is blood spelling out the word ‘Forever’ across there?”
3
June 5, 1952
My heart feels like it is being tore up inside of me. Mother told me and Penny that Janelle Weaver has died. Nearly six months to the day after her mom died. I showed Penny the letters that Janelle had written to me before she got sick and had to go into the hospital. Penny told me she hoped that someday someone would love her as much as I loved Janelle.
Edwin Hale was no stranger to falling in love. He couldn’t even remember having the “yuck, girls!” phase that most boys go through. At five years old, he experienced a lot of firsts because of it. That was when he got his first kiss from the prettiest girl in his kindergarten class, Odette Lewis. They had ducked behind the bushes on the playground when the teacher wasn’t looking. He remembered how quick and passionless it was. Just two kids experimenting at the rituals their parents performed when they showed affection. It was also his first betrayal of trust. The other kids teased him relentlessly when Odette confided the incident to her friends. It was all made worse when a seven year old, Steven Bell, bragged that he had gone even further with the girl than just kissing. He claimed to have “gotten in her panties and both of them had touched each others’ privates.” That led to his first full-on fistfight and subsequently, his first parent/teacher meeting. Of course, his mother had been shocked and disappointed that he had gotten into a fight in the first place. His father had just the opposite reaction; he had actually been proud that Eddie had left the other boy sobbing and bleeding on the ground. That became the first argument that he could remember his parents having over something that he had done.
Edwin completely forgot the harsh lessons of that first love w
hen he met Janelle Weaver four years later at Christmas. His mother organized this first annual party for her husband’s mill employees, and Janelle’s father was the foreman. Being a year older, Janelle was also enrolled in a different school than Edwin, so it was no wonder that they had never met before. The instant Edwin was greeted by the ten year old girl he was smitten beyond anything he had ever felt before. Her long curls of brunette locks floated around her head every time she moved. Her soft grey eyes swallowed him and wouldn’t let him go. He hung onto every word the little chatterbox said as she led him by the hand into her own private world.
It was Janelle’s job to keep the Christmas music playing from the old, windup phonograph. Both children were completely oblivious to the angry, drunken stares of Jack Weaver. Anezka, however, was not, and wondered why such innocent joy would elicit such darkness. Janelle’s mother, Wanda, next attracted Annie’s attention as she sat alone in a corner chair. Anezka had noticed the black eye barely concealed behind pancake makeup and it had made her angry. She had wanted to slap Jack Weaver and stand there, daring him to violently respond. The coward would not have been able to do anything to his boss’s wife in retaliation for his public humiliation. It was Christmas, however, and it would have just made things worse for Wanda at home. So Mrs. Hale went and placed herself in the empty chair next to Mrs. Weaver. For a few moments nothing was said between the two women. Then Wanda turned her head away from watching her daughter and Edwin as he proudly related Czech and other European Christmas traditions. Looking down at the polished oak flooring between her feet, Wanda spoke in a high pitched, squeaky voice. The kind of sound a wounded woman makes when she holds in her tears to the point they almost strangle her.
“You have a wonderful family, Missus Hale. You got to be very proud of your children.”
“Call me Annie, if you please, and I’ll call you Wanda if that is fair with you?”
“Wouldn’t be respectful, ma’am. Would look like I was tryin’ to get above my raisins.”
Anezka had learned shortly after arriving in Silver Thorn that there was a very strict caste system here that dated back hundreds of years. When she had addressed this social discrepancy with her husband, he had paraphrased the old saying, “Wolves don’t lose sleep over the concerns of sheep.” Then, turning his attention from the workers toiling in the mill yard below his office window to stare directly into his wife’s eyes, he continued.
“Annie, we are wolves. The sooner you learn and accept that, the better off you’ll be.”
She had been young and newly married then and still hoped that her love would be enough to change her husband’s outlook on life. Anezka had been terribly wrong.
“I hope I didn’t upset you ma’am.” Wanda spoke softly.
“No, Wanda, you didn’t upset me.” Anezka smiled and said jokingly, “The only ‘raisins’ I know about are dried grapes!”
The attempt at humor slid right past Wanda as her attention was taken by the stumbling approach of Jack Weaver. Ticking his head in the direction of Edwin and Janelle he sneered and spoke in booze-soaked tone.
“They could be brother and sister, those two! Don’t ya’ think?”
With no response forthcoming from the two women, Jack continued, “Same brown curly hair. Close to the same face. Just the eye color is different.”
Anezka Hale stood up and raised herself as straight as the highest quality board her husband’s mill could produce. She had heard the scurrilous accusations of promiscuity and adultery against Edgel from both before and after they married. In particular, that the totally unqualified Jack Weaver had attained his position as a result of granting his boss unrestricted access to his attractive wife’s body.
All eyes were fixed on the pair of antagonists including those of the children. Instead of the anticipated verbal brawl however, Anezka smiled and said loud enough to be heard by everyone present, “All of us are brothers and sisters in Christ on this holiday, Mister Weaver! Including the beautiful children He has blessed all of our families with!”
As the music faded and people started for their homes, Annie followed the sounds of childish laughter and found the kids under the Christmas tree. Penny was sound asleep and curled up around the tree’s base. Edwin and Janelle were lying on their backs, side by side, looking up through its branches at the multi-colored lights and tinsel while giggling uncontrollably. After taking a whiff of the empty cups that had obviously held some Rum-laced eggnog, Edwin’s mother smiled and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Okay you two, time to go your separate ways and sleep it off.”
Little did she know what alcohol-lowered inhibitions had led the children too. Edwin Hale would certainly never forget the way it felt when Janelle’s seemingly tiny tongue had touched his lips. It had sent an unfamiliar, yet exhilarating, wave of emotional and sensual sensations through his entire body as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Janelle whispered to him just before he crawled slowly out from under a strand of bulbs.
“I love you, Edwin Hale.”
Edgel stood behind his desk in the manor’s study perusing the daily business section of his newspaper when Anezka and Edwin entered the room. As soon as he heard Bobby shut the double doors, the master of the house put down his paper and addressed his wife and son perfunctorily.
“I heard from my employees that the party was a success and everybody had a good time. Especially you, son!”
“Uh . . . yes, sir.”
“That rum can get the best of you sometimes. From the look of your eyes, that ole demon booze kicked your ass!”
“Yes, sir, I guess so.”
“I also heard from Jack Weaver that you and little Janelle got busy under the Christmas Tree!”
“Edgel Hale!” Anezka shouted. “Don’t be so crude!”
Edgel ignored his wife and continued.
“She’s a pretty girl, sure enough. Are you thinking that you might like to see her again? Maybe you think you’re going to ask Jack Weaver about courting her?”
Edwin blushed bright red and looked down at the floor.
“Maybe,” he said simply.
“Well, don’t be getting too serious about that girl.”
Edwin looked up nervously.
“Why not?”
“Well, let’s say that you two did end up getting together, maybe even married—your children would be retards!”
“Why would that happen?” Edwin asked with a cracking voice.
“I would like to hear the answer to that myself!” Annie grumbled loudly as she silently asked, “Is he really going to confess, here and now, that Janelle is really Edwin’s half sister?”
“Don’t give me that double barrel look of mean with those eyes, Anezka!” Then turning back to his son, Edgel lowered his voice and said, “Those people are not like us, Edwin. They are your inferiors. They are for putting their backs into labor, but they have not got the brains to run a successful business like the one I’ll be passing down to you one day.”
“I gave him permission to phone her now and then. To write her, too, if he wants,” Annie interrupted.
As Edgel sent his wife an angry sideways glare, he growled.
“I haven’t got a problem with that as long as the boy understands the way things are.”
It had been more than ten months since Edgel Hale had given even a second thought to the relationship between his son and Janelle Weaver. Now, he held in his hand a black and white crime scene picture of what had once been the very pretty Wanda Weaver. The entire top of her head was separated from the rest of her and splattered on the tile bathroom wall behind her. A single remaining eyeball rested on her right cheek. He looked up at the beer-bellied Sheriff of the county the Weavers lived in.
“Sheriff Morris, Jack was always troubled, even as a kid. His old man was a real asshole who would smack the boy and his mom around. Jack must have gotten his old man’s bad blood, because he started hanging out in bars after work, coming home, and beating up on Wanda. What I see here is
that she must have gotten enough of it all and blew her brains out in the bathtub.”
Morris retrieved the photograph from Edgel.
“It is very unusual for a woman to kill herself like that,” he mumbled. “Pills and booze, maybe, but not by putting a shotgun in her mouth and pulling the trigger. One, even the ugliest woman wants to look good at her funeral. Two, they don’t want to leave a bloody mess for someone else to clean up. Three, and most important, they wouldn’t want the kid to come home from school and find her that way, which is just what happened. Just about any mother would take the kid and run.”
Hale rolled his eyes.
“What happened with Janelle? My wife and kids were friendly with her.”
“She’s in the hospital in what the doctor says is a catatonic state. She’ll never be right.”
“So, you think that Jack Weaver killed his wife and made it look like a suicide?”
“Well, he would be the most likely suspect. Can you account for his claim that he was at work when it happened?”
“As a foreman, he doesn’t punch a clock like everyone else. So, the answer to your question would be no.”
Edwin finished winding the portable record player and set the arm down onto the well worn 45 rpm. As “Some Enchanted Evening” sung by Perry Como played, he wiped away the tears that couldn’t seem to stop. Then, there was “Too Young” sung by Nat King Cole. They had slow-danced, or at least tried to, at the last Christmas Party they attended together. Janelle acted just the opposite to what she had before. To Edwin, it had seemed that he was forced to pull a smile and some hint of joy out of her. When the lateness of the night forced them to part, the girl had held onto him as if her very life depended on it and they would never be together again. In their phone calls and letters, there had been nothing to indicate any problems she might be having. Edwin heard whispers and rumors about her parents, but nothing negative about her life had been divulged by Janelle.
