House at Whispering Oaks

by Hargrove Perth

  “We are golden.”

  “Good, see you at the house.”

  Cordie walked to the parking lot and smiled when she saw the old Ford waiting for her. New spark plugs, a new alternator, and a new battery had fixed the old girl. There was something about the truck Cordie just loved. She couldn’t explain it even if someone asked her why. It was old, had primer on it, and didn’t even have electric windows. None of that mattered to her. What mattered was it had been her uncle’s farm truck and he had given it to her without a second thought.

  She drove at a leisurely pace, thinking about the questions she wanted to ask Petulia and how to do it without Cricket and her aunt thinking she was insane. Before she knew it, Cordie was pulling up to the little house with the wrought iron fence. Cricket was sitting on the steps with a blade of grass between her teeth smiling.

  “You drive slower than my grandmother,” Cricket said laughing.

  “Whatever,” Cordie said as she smiled, slid out of the truck, and closed the door.

  “So what is for dinner?” she asked while following Cricket inside.

  “Is that you Cordie?” Petulia called from the kitchen.

  “Can I help with anything?” Cordie asked, before sitting her purse on the couch and walking to the kitchen. She found Petulia kneading a fresh batch of buttermilk biscuits.

  “I never knew people made home biscuits till I came to Savannah Oaks. Ours always came out of a can.”

  “Out of a can, now who eats biscuits out of a can? City folk, I guess,” Petulia said and smiled. “Be a dear and hand me the flour.”

  Cordie picked up the flour container and handed it to Petulia then decided to set the table.

  “So do you know how Jon died, Petulia? I mean, there isn’t anything in the archives on the microfilm at the library.”

  “I can’t say that surprises me since the only papers that probably survived were the ones out of town, once Sherman was done burning Savannah to the ground, not that it would matter. What is important and what is the truth doesn’t end up in the paper anyways.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said that boy, to you, was as real as me, right?” Petulia asked as she began to roll out the biscuits just as Cricket walked into the kitchen and tried to reach around her aunt and steal a piece of the topping off the peach cobbler.

  “I need some heavy cream. Would you run to the market, Cricket?”

  “Sure, you need anything Cordie?”

  “No, I’m good, but thanks.”

  Petulia waited until she heard the screen door close.

  “I asked you that for a reason. Spirits don’t linger when their lives ended with purpose, when they were doing good like defending their family. Those Blue Coats came down to Savannah Oaks a few weeks before Sherman arrived, went out snooping about, and ended up at Schelling House. The story told round these parts is Jon died defending his family. I don’t believe it in the least.” Petulia paused to look at Cordie. “Something bad happened to that boy, maybe at the hands of his brother, Carter, maybe at the hands of those slaves out there. I don’t rightly know, but this I can tell you, Jon can’t rest because he was wronged.”

  Cordie was silent, not really knowing what to say. She had to ask the inevitable question.

  “Can a mirror be a portal to another time? she asked.

  Petulia stopped and sat at the table.

  “Now what would make you ask that?”

  “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was snooping through my aunt’s secret room and the next I was laying under the old oak with Jon standing over me. My aunt said I was only out for thirty minutes, but I spent at least six hours with him and his mother.”

  “You didn’t eat or drink anything did you?”

  The urge to hide the truth from Petulia came forward.

  “No, we just talked.”

  “Do not ever step in front of that mirror again, Cordie. You could become trapped. Mirrors are gateways and are fickle little beasts. One moment they let you in, the next they trap you forever. Promise me you won’t do it again.”

  “I promise,” Cordie lied.

  “Good, then let’s consider this a closed matter.”

  Just as Cordie was about to argue her point, Cricket returned. Cordie finished setting the table and dinner was served shortly after. Cricket talked most of the way through dinner while Cordie was silent and forced herself to eat. As soon as dinner was over, she did the dishes and made an excuse to leave.

  “I hate to eat and run, but Uncle Jesse said I had to come home before eight. Thank you for dinner, Miss Petulia. That was the best fried chicken I ever had.”

  Cricket walked her to the truck. Cordie climbed in and started the truck.

  “We still on for Sunday?” Cricket whispered, knowing her aunt had said something to make her friend so quiet.

  “You bet!?” Cordie said softly. “See you tomorrow.”

  Cricket waved as Cordie pulled out of the driveway and started down the road. She drove much faster on the way home, wanting to get there as soon as possible. As soon as the truck was parked, Cordie grabbed her backpack and ran inside.

  “Hi Uncle Jesse, I am home and going to do my homework.”

  “Okay,” Jesse shouted from the kitchen.

  She ran to her room, closed the door, and opened the double doors leading to the balcony.

  “Jon,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

  Her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of him, but Cordie saw only the sun that was quickly setting.

  “It’s the only way,” she whispered, opening the door to her closet and removing her great-great grandmother’s dress. Not bothering with any of the undergarments, but the chemise, Cordie quickly dressed and stepped in front of the mirror.

  “Please take me back to him,” she whispered, closed her eyes, and waited. She opened her eyes only to discover the surroundings had not changed. Cordie went to the balcony and again searched for Jon. “Maybe it only works in the daytime,” she whispered before giving up.

  She walked inside, took off the dress, and fell onto her bed, listening for the soft, melancholic sounds of Jon’s harmonica and quickly fell asleep.

  “How was your evening,” Sadie asked her husband as she undressed.

  “Uneventful. Cricket asked Cordie over for dinner so I let her.”

  “Jesse, it’s a school night,” Sadie protested.

  “Come on, honey, she has had a rough time of it. Not to mention she feels like she ruined your night after you introduced her to the Daughters of the South. I can see it in her face every time I look at her. She’s just a kid. Let her be one, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Is she asleep yet?” Sadie said as she slipped on her robe, ignoring her husband’s protesting. “I want to say good night.”

  Jesse followed his wife down the hall to Cordie’s room and peered over her shoulder as Sadie cracked the door.

  “She’s fast asleep,” Sadie whispered and began closing the door then paused. “Did you hear that?”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Jesse said as he reached for the door to close it.

  “Are you sure? I could have sworn I heard a harmonica being played?”

  Sadie pulled the door closed. The minute it was closed, Cordie opened her eyes, and rolled over to see Jon standing in the doorway leading to the balcony. Without a second thought, Cordie jumped out of bed and then wondered why Jon turned away.

  “Oh,” Cordie said, reaching for her robe, realizing she was still only wearing the thin, nearly see through chemise. “Is it customary for you to just show up in someone’s room?”

  “I am not in your room. I am on the balcony. There is a difference.”

  Cordie ushered Jon to the end of the balcony, far away from her aunt and uncle’s room, afraid they might wake and somehow overhear her speaking to Jon.

  “I only desired to see you made it home safely,” Jon said. “Now I know that you have.” He turned away from Cordie as tho
ugh he was going to leave.

  “Wait, I looked for you earlier.”

  “I know.”

  “Where were you?”

  “How I wish in the deepest recesses of my heart our time together could be different.”

  Cordie noticed Jon was wearing a faded jacket, one she had not seen him wearing before tonight. He was also holding his side.

  “Fate was not so kind to me, Cordelia. Were time not our enemy, I would ask for permission to court you, but my time is not yours,” Jon said and winced.

  “What is wrong,” Cordie asked, reaching for his coat, pulling it aside, and revealing a large, gaping wound.

  “Oh my gosh, who did this? I need to take you to the hospital,” Cordie said without thinking.

  “That would not be a wise choice, after-all, they could not see me.”

  ‘Oh, yeah,” Cordie whispered, then giggled at her own silliness. “You need help. You should let me,” Cordie began, but Jon placed his forefinger to her lips.

  “This love I feel for you, it was not meant to be, Cordelia.”

  Jon disappeared, leaving Cordie alone with tears streaming across her cheeks. She paused to wipe the tears on the sleeve of her chemise.

  “I will find out what happened, Jon Pembroke Schelling, and stop it if it is the last thing I do,” Cordie whispered as she saw Jon appear beneath the old Live Oak. “Maybe this is my destiny. All this had to happen to bring me here, now, because I was meant to save you,” Cordie whispered before stepping inside and closing the doors behind her.

  As she lay on her bed crying, the same sweet melody Jon played the first night she arrived drifted into her room, providing Cordie with little comfort.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bingo?

  Church, Cordie thought as the alarm sounded. What Petulia had said to her kept replaying over and over like a broken record. She just couldn’t believe all this weirdness didn’t have a purpose.

  “Cordelia, are you up?” Uncle Jesse asked as he tapped on the door.

  “I’m awake, Uncle Jesse. Be there in a minute.”

  Cordie sat forward and stretched. Church was not something her family did when she was living in New York. They went to mass on Christmas, but that was about it. Her father was too busy with his work in the District Attorney’s Office, and her mom taught school, leaving Cordie alone the majority of the time. When she was younger, the nanny sometimes took her to church, but that didn’t happen all that often either.

  “What to wear?” Cordie said as she looked in her closet. She rifled through the dresses they had bought when Cordie first arrived. “Jeans are not for God,” Sadie had told her the first Sunday she took Cordie to church. “Blah. I hate dresses,” she grumbled and pulled a plain dress off the hanger.

  Much to her aunt’s dismay, Cordie bounded down the stairs wearing a plain, black knit dress, with colored scrunched up knee socks, and combat boots.

  “Really?” Sadie said, pointing at the stairs.

  “She looks fine. Let her be herself,” Jesse said and patted Cordie on the head. “The good Lord likes individuality.” Jesse winked at his niece and smiled.

  “I suppose,” Sadie said. “I have a meeting after church, so you will be riding to church with Jesse.”

  Cordie’s heart soared. Yes! She won’t be home!

  “Ok,” she replied, attempting to hide her happiness. “Is it okay if Cricket comes over for a while after church? We were going to walk around and take pictures for our Civil War project.”

  “Sure, honey.” Sadie smiled at her niece, happy she had bonded so closely and had a friend to talk to instead of only having her and Jesse.

  Breakfast was light, biscuits, butter, and jam. Cordie piled into her truck next to her uncle and followed Sadie to the church. As soon as they arrived, Jesse saw Cricket waiting next to her car.

  “I am glad you made a friend, Cordie. Don’t take Sadie too seriously. She is just trying to do her best at being a mom.” Jesse made quotation marks in the air like he had seen Cordie do once, and she laughed.

  “I know she isn’t trying to butt in, Uncle Jesse. I’m just not used to it.”

  “Yeah, me neither. She still bosses me around too.”

  Jesse and Cordie had a good laugh before exiting the truck and walking to the church. He went inside while Cordie talked to Cricket.

  “Did you see him, you know?”

  “Yeah, you have to swear on your life that no matter what I tell you, Cricket, you will never tell your Aunt.”

  “Sure, but why?”

  “She doesn’t want me to see him anymore, and I don’t want her telling my aunt and uncle. They will think the stress of everything made me crack and before you know it, I will be the newbie in the psyche ward.”

  “Got it,” Cricket replied and opened a pack of gum. “It’s the third Sunday, so today’s sermon will be short. Bingo afterwards,” she said and laughed.

  “Bingo?”

  “Do they do anything normal in New York? It’s a game where they call out numbers, and you mark your card, then you win prizes.”

  “Oh, that sounds fun.”

  “Come on, the last thing you want to do around here is to be late for church. We’ll be the talk of the town for months.”

  Church lasted for an eternity. Cordie fidgeted in her seat. She wanted to explore the Schelling House with Cricket. As soon as the sermon was finished, Jesse walked Cordie outside.

  “I have to do some repairs on the barn today. I thought you could help me.”

  She looked at Cricket, who was busy shaking her head no, but Cordie knew her uncle would be able to see them from the barn. They would get caught and there would be no explaining.

  “Cricket, Uncle Jesse needs me to help him, so can we make plans another day?”

  “Sure,” Cricket replied, defeated.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ruby

  Cordie could barely contain herself. She had finally set up a date with Mrs. Ruby and couldn’t wait to ask all the questions that pulsated through her mind. She was hoping that Ruby would be the key to this mystery.

  When she arrived, Ruby had already sat out delicate little appetizers and gathered all the family’s old belongings for Cordie to peruse. She almost salivated, as she looked at all the journals and old photos that lay before her.

  “How is your tea?” Ruby asked as she took a seat on the white, flawless couch opposite Cordie.

  “It’s wonderful,” Cordie smiled. “Thank you again. This really wasn’t necessary.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ruby smiled. “This is the way a proper southern lady entertains a guest.

  Cordie smiled.

  She flipped through journals from Carter’s wife. She wrote of how emotionally abusive he was towards her and the children. She worried for their lives at times. Towards the end of the journal, she wrote about a great secret that would tear him in two.

  “Mrs. Ruby, do you know what this big secret is that Mrs. Schelling kept referring to. She mentions it several times, but it never says,” Cordie asked.

  “There’s really no telling. Men that came back from the war buried all sorts of secrets. They had failed to protect their friends, their brothers, and sometimes their families. They had so many losses during that time, and they just internalized them. Many of them felt it was their fault when a fellow soldier went down.”

  “This seems to be something big and specific,” Cordie pointed out, handing the journal to Ruby.

  “Hmm…” She paused for a few seconds, which felt like an eternity to Cordie.

  “You know, Carter had a brother that was killed protecting his family. Perhaps he felt guilt over not making it home yet,” Ruby suggested.

  “That’s not really A SECRET,” Cordie suggested.

  Ruby nodded, still trying to remember any stories that her grandfather had told her about his father.

  “Oh look at this,” Ruby said, breaking the silence.

  She pulled out a picture of the entire S
chelling family at that time. Jon and Carter stood proudly behind their seated parents. Jon had a light in his eyes, a twinkle, just like she knew he had always had. Her heart fluttered lightly at the sight of his photo.

  She quickly turned her attention to Carter. He looked proud, but more than that, prideful. He looked like he was jealous or angry… hostile almost. His eyes were devoid of the love that shown through so clearly in the rest of the family.

  “Why does he look almost angry?” Cordie asked, still trying to make sure her questions focused on Carter and not Jon.

  “Well, from what I understand, Carter felt a little resentment towards his brother. His brother was a brilliant young man and he had planned to attend medical school. When the war broke out, his father signed up immediately. He insisted his sons sign up as well. Boy of that age don’t understand the political issues that lie behind it. They see it as a sense of duty. It was their destiny to protect their homes, their families.” Ruby explained.

  “But, Mrs. Mable Schelling wouldn’t have it. She protested Jon’s interest in joining the battle. She swore she would not send her entire family out to be slaughtered. She insisted that Jon should stay behind, tend to the slaves and the family. She felt that his extensive knowledge should not be wasted. She believed that someday he could fulfill his dream of being a doctor.”

  Cordie listened and imagined what Carter may have felt about all of that. If he was a spiteful man, this final push for Mable Schelling wanting her younger son to stay home may have been what pushed him over the edge. But to what end? If Jon had been at the estate when they were under siege, how could Carter feel guilt about that? Unless… Cordie’s train of thought was interrupted by a realization concerning Carter.

  Cordie’s breath caught in her throat. Carter must have had something to do with Jon’s death. She wasn’t sure how but if he had always resented his little brother and believed he was the chosen one of the two of them, it only left to reason that Carter would want to take Jon out of the equation. Riddled with madness from the war, he must have decided to take his vengeance out on his brother. But why? She pondered.