The Cornelius Saga Series (All 15 Books): The Ultimate Adventure-packed Supernatural Thriller Collection

by Tanya R. Taylor

  Matilda sat up slowly, unsure of the reaction her confession might bring. “I was.”

  Stephen sighed. “Has this ever happened to you before?”

  “You mean… the bed?”

  “Yes. Yes!”

  “Never.” She shook her head. “I… I don’t know why...” Then she remembered something. “Wait, I was dreaming of when Carrie and I were children – when she asked me to cause our mother’s wash tub to levitate. That must’ve been why our bed did the same thing. Maybe the emotions attached to the memory were strong enough to enter my reality.”

  Stephen was bewildered. “What?”

  “I’m sorry, Stephen. I certainly didn’t mean to cause you such stress.”

  He returned to bed and held her. “There’s no need for you to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

  “You are too nice, you know?”

  “It’s not that,” he said. “You cannot be blamed for something you had no control of. Should I tell you not to dream?”

  She grimaced.

  “Exactly my point, my love. We’re in this together. I may not understand some things, but I know one thing for sure – that I love you.”

  She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the top of it.

  A few hours remained until dawn and neither of them managed to get back to sleep.

  6

  _________________

  The next day, George and Stephen started out on their trip to town. George had suggested Buster join them while the younger children, tag along with their mother and Matilda.

  The women and children climbed into a separate carriage and started their tour downtown. Scarface Jack, Ann’s occasional yardman was their chauffeur. Tall and lean with straggly, blonde hair, he had been branded “Scarface” due to the long scar that stretched from just below his left eye all the way down to his chin. He had earned it in a fight over some woman who was playing the field.

  Matilda had a good feeling as they traveled about, stopping at various stores, as well as the farmer’s market. Ruth was dressed in her favorite peach, sleeveless dress and Bradley wore brown, knee-length shorts and a white, linen shirt.

  There were at least ten vendors on site at the local farmer’s market and each had their share of customers. “What’s your favorite fruit?” Matilda asked Ruth, who had walked with her the entire time.

  “I like apples,” Ruth said.

  “And what’s your brothers’ favorite?”

  “Brad likes oranges and Buster doesn’t like fruits at all.”

  “None at all?” Matilda asked.

  Smiling, the girl shook her head.

  Matilda turned to the bubbly young lady at the stall and purchased two bags full of apples and oranges, and handed them to Ruth. “These are for you and the oranges are for your brother.”

  “Why, thanks, Miss Matilda.” Ruth skipped over to give Bradley his. He was standing a few feet away from his mother, who was busy chatting with one of the vendors.

  “Matilda!” Ann called. “Please come here. I’d like for you to meet someone.”

  Matilda hastily heeded the call.

  “This is Daisy Hopkins,” Ann told her. “She heads our church’s Sunday School Department. Daisy, this is my new neighbor and friend, Matilda Curry. Isn’t she lovely?”

  “Indeed she is. Very pleased to meet you, Matilda,” Daisy said. Middle-aged with streaks of gray around her hairline, Daisy stood at six feet tall and was firmly built.

  “The pleasure’s all mine,” Matilda replied.

  “Do you have any children that I may invite you to bring out to Sunday School tomorrow?” Daisy asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Ann answered for Matilda. “I’m sure she will meet the perfect gentleman in good time and all of that will be possible.”

  Matilda forced a smile.

  “Well then, be sure to come to me for all your fresh produce. I see you purchased something from Francene over there,” Daisy now spoke in a lowered voice.

  Matilda looked back awkwardly to where she was referring.

  “Her fruits are never as fresh as mine. She’s not a good Christian either, you know? She’s something of a trollop. If you ask anyone around here, they’d tell you...”

  Ann was nodding.

  “Has six children with three different men! Imagine that!” Daisy continued.

  “I understand,” Matilda said. What she wanted was to tell the meddling woman to mind her own business, but she knew it wasn’t a good move. Definitely too early to make enemies.

  When they finally left the market, Matilda was relieved. That Daisy Hopkins woman had already managed to boil her blood, as she found people repulsive who dared to judge so harshly. The fact that she had been judged all of her life stood as the primary reason for her disgust.

  Sitting next to her in the carriage, Ruth asked, “Are you all right, Miss Matilda?”

  Matilda had no idea she had been wearing her emotions on her sleeve and she immediately attempted to compose herself. “Yes, I am, sweet child,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, I guess.”

  Matilda smiled and lifted Ruth’s chin. “You’re such a considerate child. I hope one day when I have a daughter of my own that she’ll be just like you.”

  “What a lovely thing to say!” Ann remarked. “And Ruth’s observant as well. Quite an observant child.”

  Matilda nodded, then looked out of the window as they headed for the eastern side of town.

  * * *

  A few hours later, Stephen returned home and the smell of supper cooking immediately greeted him. He hung his hat on the rack and tiredly walked into the kitchen.

  “How did it go?” Matilda asked, at the stove.

  He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and plonked himself down. “Quite well, I suppose. George took me around and introduced me to some of his buddies at the dock and at a pub they frequent. Met this guy, Russ – somebody. Kind of a loud mouth, but I guess he’s okay.”

  Matilda smiled.

  “George even managed to get me a job at the factory out east.”

  “That’s great!” Matilda said excitedly. “Second day here and you’ve already landed a job. What type of factory is it?”

  “It’s a coat factory. Didn’t know they had any factories in this town. Uncle John never mentioned it.”

  Matilda was now scooping up their servings of peas soup and dumpling, an old recipe she had learned from her late Grandma Edna.

  “Looks delicious,” Stephen said.

  “After landing a good job, you don’t look so thrilled.” Matilda rested down the pot spoon.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know… there’s something kind of bugging me about Buster.”

  “Buster? Ann’s boy?”

  Stephen nodded.

  “He just seemed so distant today; barely spoke a single word for hours. I tried to engage in conversation with him, but it was nothing like how it was when I first met him.”

  “You just met him, Stephen.”

  “I know, but I mean… he was a bit friendlier, it seems, when we first got to the house yesterday for supper. It was only when George showed up that I noticed the difference.”

  “I noticed it too, but with all the children,” Matilda noted.

  “I wonder what makes them uneasy.” A frown appeared at the top of his forehead.

  With eyebrows arched, Matilda reached for a couple of glasses from the cupboard. “I don’t know if uneasy is the appropriate word for what the children might be feeling. Maybe they were taught to respect adults and being quiet around them is the way they show that respect.”

  “It wasn’t quite that way with us though. I kind of got the impression that Buster had something strong on his mind. Anyway,” he sighed, “maybe it’s nothing. Maybe he’s just a shy boy.”

  “Yes, that’s probably it.” Matilda set the food on the table and pulled a chair out for herself. “You know, I think we’re going to settle nicely int
o this town, after all. We might even like it. As much as I miss my mother and sisters, maybe this is where you and I were meant to start our life together. I believe you were right about that.”

  Stephen reached across the table and caressed her slender hand. “Do you believe in fate?” He saw the sparkle in her eyes.

  “You know I do.”

  “You and I together here and now, and what lies in our future are precisely what’s meant to be. Just shows that we can face anything together – no matter what.”

  Matilda smiled. “No matter what.”

  7

  _________________

  Two and a half years sailed quietly by and Stephen, Matilda, Ann and George had forged a good friendship over time. Matilda and Stephen had also adjusted to the daily routine of Stephen going off to work every day, except for Sundays, and Matilda remaining at home and taking care of the needs of the house. She was grateful that they did not have the added expense of paying rent where they lived since the house was owned by Stephen’s uncle, who resided in Mizpah. Matilda had quickly transformed it into a cozy dwelling by decorating as best she could and adding nice furnishings.

  After school, Ruth and the boys often wandered over for cakes and soft drinks, only returning home after Ann got off from work and sent them in to do chores. Ann worked as a mid-wife at the local clinic for at least a decade and George, whom she had tied the knot with four months after Stephen and Matilda arrived in town, worked at the flour mill.

  “How about you and I put our feet up and have a glass of our favorite strawberry lemonade?” Matilda said to Ann one afternoon after Ann arrived home. As was sometimes the case, Ann had stopped there at Matilda’s first before going into her house to cook supper.

  “I can certainly put my feet up after a hard day’s work,” Ann replied. She remained outside on the porch while Matilda brought out the refreshments.

  “I love these relaxing moments you and I enjoy throughout the week,” Ann remarked. “Aside from this, I’m afraid I don’t know what relaxation is all about! Who knew that taking care of a husband would be such hard work?” She chuckled.

  “You mean taking care of children?” Matilda thought it was a slip of the tongue.

  “No – I mean husband! The children are easy to deal with. It’s that man I have to please even at night when all I want is sleep!”

  Matilda nearly choked on her drink. “You are too much! How dare you discuss such things, Ann? It’s not ladylike.”

  “I’m sorry, but I had to get that out. Seems like a woman’s work is never done. You get married to have a life partner and enjoy your twilight years together, but it becomes a chore.” She whispered. “A pleasant chore, nonetheless.”

  “Stop it!” Matilda slapped Ann’s hand. “If Daisy Hopkins heard you, you’d surely be labeled an unsaved woman.

  “She’s always talking about who’s a good Christian and who’s not, but if she’s the example you and I, and everyone else around here is to follow, I’d rather look away – that is, to say it nicely.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “What she needs is a husband to keep her busy like George keeps me. That way, I doubt she’d have the time nor energy to run off at the mouth the way she always does,” Ann said.

  “I thought you liked her! You certainly seem to agree with everything she says.”

  “Well, I don’t like her. She’s nothing more than a Jezebel. I only keep the peace with her because she gives me all my produce at half price.”

  “Oh, that’s the secret!” Matilda giggled.

  “Surely is! But I’m serious about her needing that husband. She’ll be a lot more contented, in my humble opinion.” She paused. “Speaking of husbands, you’ve been here for almost three years and I’m sure you have a lot of lookers. I haven’t heard you mention anyone of interest out there. And what about Steve?”

  “Neither of us have found anyone of much interest to date,” Matilda responded.

  “That’s too bad. You two must not be so picky and choosy. Before you know it, you both will be a very old bachelor and spinster still living together in this old house with only each other to look at for the rest of your days. Scary thought, isn’t it?”

  It was surely frightening for Matilda to think how their friends and the townspeople would view them when they found out that she and Stephen were not as they presented themselves to be.

  * * *

  Two days later…

  2:12 p.m.

  She heard a crashing noise and loud shouting next door. Matilda dashed out of the house and just as she reached the edge of the porch, Buster came running out of their house in a ripped tee shirt, screaming expletives and threatening to kill someone. He was no longer attending school as he had just turned sixteen that April. George rushed out behind him and on seeing Matilda, stopped abruptly in his tracks.

  “What on earth’s the matter?” She grabbed Buster who was now silently fuming.

  “I’m gonna kill him!” he replied, glaring at George.

  “You settle yourself down, ya hear?” George snarled.

  Matilda could hear the slur in his voice which indicated he had been drinking. “Come inside with me, Buster. I think George, here, needs a little time alone,” she said.

  “He lives here, Matilda! You come back in here, boy!”

  Matilda stood in front of Buster to guard him. “George, please go inside and cool down. In a little while, I’ll send him back over.”

  George did not move. Instead, he stood there and stared at the boy as if a good whipping right then would serve him right. “You keep your mouth shut, ya hear?” Without awaiting a response, he backed away and closed the door behind him.

  Matilda took Buster inside with her.

  “What happened, child? I never once heard you use such language.” She looked him over. “Are you hurt?”

  Tears were streaming down the boy’s face. “I swear I’m gonna kill him! For what he’s done to me… he deserves to die.”

  She sat him down on the couch. “Did he whip you?”

  Buster slowly shook his head.

  “So, what has he done? What on earth could prompt you to say such serious things?”

  “Nothing,” Buster replied. “You won’t believe me anyway.”

  “Try me, child.” Matilda hoped the sincerity in her eyes would convince him.

  “He’s been...touching me.”

  Her eyes widened and heart sank by what she thought he might be insinuating.

  “Touching you? You mean…”

  “He’s been raping me – he has been ever since I was thirteen!” The tears flowed even more heavily and his voice broke.

  “My God!” Matilda gripped him by the shoulders. “Buster, please say this isn’t true.”

  “It is, Miss Matilda! It is! I’m never going back home. I’d die or kill him first. I can’t take it anymore!”

  “So, he tried to rape you just now too?” she asked. “Is that why your shirt’s torn?”

  The boy nodded.

  Matilda stood up and grabbed him by the hand. “Let’s go! We’re going over there right now!”

  “But I don’t want to!” Buster protested. “Can’t I just stay here until Mommy gets home?”

  Matilda thought for a moment, then shook her head. “We have to deal with this now. If George has been violating you in that way, I must confront him and you must say in front of both of us what you just said to me.”

  With Matilda leading the way, they hurried next door and as the door was unlocked, they walked right in. George was lying on the couch in the main room with his eyes shut.

  “George...” Matilda started.

  He opened his eyes and smiled wickedly. “So you’re back with the boy.”

  “I’m afraid, he’s not here to stay – at least not while his mother is not at home.”

  George stood up. Although he had taken a few shots of alcohol earlier, he was not sloppy drunk. “What are you talking about, woman? You had bet
ter remember your place.”

  “My place?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Well, I’m not here to argue over what you think is my place. Buster here told me you were touching him. Is that true?”

  George’s eyes widened and for a moment he had the look of a deer caught in headlights. “This is the nonsense you told her, you frigging punk?” He looked at Buster. “I come into this family and become your father for you to turn around and accuse me of utter nonsense?”

  “You’ll never be my father. My father is dead!” Buster lashed out. “Besides, you know it’s the truth. You kept coming in my room at night while Brad was asleep and took me to the basement and...”

  “And what?” George had an obnoxious look on his face.

  “And whenever you got off work early, like today… every chance you got, you’d rape me. You dirty...”

  “He rushed up to the boy and punched him to the floor, busting his upper lip in the process.”

  “You call me another name and I’ll finish you off!” George yelled.

  Buster sprung up off the floor to get at him and Matilda quickly stood between, trying to keep them apart. But being bigger and stronger, George got the upper hand and continued beating on the boy like he was nothing more than a punching bag.

  “Stop it, George! Leave him alone!”

  George was not having it. His attack was fierce and relentless. Then suddenly, Matilda suffered a heavy blow to her arm which knocked the wind right out of her and she landed to the floor. As she struggled to her knees to again, defend Buster, she saw blood spewing from his face and knew she had to do something quickly before that beast of a man actually killed the child.

  She finally got up and with arms spread like that of an eagle’s wings, she uttered in an almost guttural voice, “Stop it!”

  With an arm now extended in front of her in George’s direction, she raised it slightly and tightened her fist, which lifted George inches off the floor and freed Buster of his merciless grip. The man’s eyes widened as confusion as to what was happening to him invaded his senses. Matilda then shifted her arm upwards, and pushed her hand forward, which sent George flying through mid-air and ultimately crashing back-on into the wall. Buster and Matilda heard a snap as he was planted into the standing concrete. He was pinned there for what seemed like hours, yet only moments had passed. Sitting on the floor, Buster watched in awe, all the while wondering if what he was witnessing was real or if the whole matter, including the beating he got, was just a horrible nightmare.