Loxley Belle

by M. L. Bullock

  I peeked at Harper, who rubbed at her bloodshot eyes with a handkerchief. There were real tears there; I don’t know why that surprised me. Aunt Dot sat beside her, the two of them holding hands, but I kept my hands in my lap. I didn’t want to hold anyone’s hand or be comforted in any kind of way. The longer I pretended none of this was happening, the longer I could avoid the inevitable truth. Ann Marie Belle was alive somewhere, surely. Why else weren’t we allowed to see her? But that couldn’t be right because I heard Momma crying. This all seemed so surreal, like a bad dream. Momma just couldn’t be lying in that powder blue casket. Surely, she’d done something shameful to herself. I had the sneaking suspicion that that was the case indeed. What had she done to herself? Why wouldn’t anyone tell me? I’d read the obituary, but it offered me no clues, no evidence of Momma’s death. It’s like she was never really here…except she was because I was here, and Harper was here too. And then, just like that, we were being asked to approach the casket. Someone handed each of us a white rose and prompted us to place them on the casket. I didn’t want to give the rose away. What was Momma going to do with these flowers? She was stuffed in the casket and never coming out. Why can’t I see her?

  And then the weight of the world felt as if it landed on my shoulders. Right square on my shoulders. All my sorrow bubbled out of me, and I clutched the flower so hard a forgotten thorn stabbed me. I placed the flower on top of the casket as Harper directed me to, and I felt my sister’s arms around me. I buried my face in her coat and cried. Harper didn’t cry now; she let me do all the crying as she whispered, “I love you, Loxley.” After a few minutes, Aunt Dot led us both to the waiting car. It was a big black sedan, not the convertible we usually drove around town in. I was glad we weren’t in the convertible today. I didn’t want to be seen, and I’d had enough of sympathetic family friends. Through blurry eyes, I could see lines of cars hugging the curb. I’d never seen so many cars, except at our high school football games. Everyone came out for those. I would never have guessed that so many people remembered her. I guess the Daughdrill name still had some pull in our county. Surely, they weren’t here for us. Folks from everywhere had come to pay their respects to Momma. It was an amazing sight considering she didn’t really have any friends. None of us Belles did except one another. These weren’t our friends either, just looky-loos who came to see if Momma was truly dead. If the mad, beautiful Ann Marie Belle had finally succumbed to her own madness. I could almost hear them whispering now, just like the girls at school, whispering away.

  “Loxley, let’s go home, dearest,” Aunt Dot said softly, and I obeyed her without argument. The ride home was long, and I laid my head in Harper’s lap. With loving hands, she swept my hair out of my face. Her hands weren’t cool like Momma’s had been, but at least she loved me. “One of us needs to go to the hospital, Harper. People will want to come by the house, though, mostly the ladies from the church who insist on dropping off food. I don’t want to leave Loxley alone.”

  I didn’t like that my aunt talked about me as if I were a child, as if I weren’t there at all, but I didn’t have the energy to protest her proposal. I couldn’t shake the image of Momma’s coffin being lowered into that dark pit. I didn’t actually see that, but I knew it would happen as soon as we left the graveside.

  “I’ll stay with Loxley, Aunt Dot. You go be with Addison. You’re right that someone should be there to welcome the baby,” Harper said as she continued to stroke my hair.

  “Thank you,” Aunt Dot answered as she pressed her twisted hankie to her nose and stared out the window. It had begun to rain, and the sky was as gray as any I’d seen. The car dropped us off at our aunt’s home and drove away. To my surprise and relief, there was no one there to meet us. No helpful neighbors with armloads of groceries or piping-hot casseroles. Not that I could stand to eat anything. Aunt Dot was delusional if she thought anyone cared about us. Nobody cared. Nobody loved us Belles. I shoved the key in the door, and we hurried inside to avoid getting soaked through. “I’ll make us some supper,” Harper offered. “Why don’t you make us both a glass of iced tea? I’d like lemon in mine, if you have it.”

  “We don’t have any lemon, and I don’t want any supper, Harper,” I said as she ignored me.

  “You never could say no to my buttermilk biscuits.” She smiled knowingly and began ransacking the cabinets for the ingredients. She was right, of course; I couldn’t say no to Harper’s biscuits. “Do you have any peaches?” We always had peaches when we lived at Summerleigh. It was a wonder we weren’t pure-dee sick of them. Harper usually put them up, but she always allowed me to add just a touch of cinnamon.

  “I think so. Aunt Dot and I put a few jars up last year.”

  “Only a few?” Harper asked as she reached for the glass bowl and heated up the oven.

  “Yes, just a few she got from the produce stand in town. I told her there were oodles of peaches at Summerleigh, but she wouldn’t let me go pick them. Imagine all those peaches falling to the ground, just rotting away with no one to eat them. Momma would have a fit if she knew about it. How many times do you suppose we climbed those trees, Harper?”

  “More times than I care to remember. Do you remember when Jeopardy chased that cat up the big peach tree?”

  And so the conversation went for a while. By the time Harper made the biscuits and set the cast-iron skillet in the oven, my stomach was rumbling with hunger. My grief had not dissipated, not in the least, but I felt comforted by Harper’s presence and the promise of buttermilk biscuits. Of course, I was painfully aware that she wouldn’t be here long. Just a few more days, if that. And then I would be alone with Aunt Dot. I only ever saw Addison occasionally, and that was before Momma died. With her two boys and one more child on the way, Addison stayed busy. Too busy for her little sister. Plus, her husband—who I secretly called Skinny Frank—didn’t like me being around much. I couldn’t think why.

  Unless he knew I was crazy too. Crazy like Momma.

  Harper and I chatted until the biscuits were ready, and as soon as she slid one on my plate, I opened the jar of peaches and piled some on the piping-hot biscuit. My fork broke into the crust, and I took a bite and then another until the biscuit and fruit were gone. I was still hungry for more when Harper offered me another, and I didn’t say no.

  “Thank you for this, Harper. Are you going to stay with us a while? Do you have to go back right away? I thought you would be finished with college by now.” I could see a strange expression flutter across her face before she quickly smothered her surprise.

  “Aunt Dot didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what, Harper?”

  “I would have thought she would have told you.”

  Harper’s question surprised me. I experienced a strange mix of concern and fear. Fear that some other terrible thing was hovering near me. Naturally, I was concerned for my sister, but I was also afraid. Was she going mad too? Did that mean I was doomed to follow in Momma’s footsteps? Was Harper suffering from a similar malady?

  “Harper? Tell me.”

  Her face paled, and she put her fork down. “It wasn’t anything important, just my leg. I broke it, and it wouldn’t heal properly. But I’m much better now.”

  Harper was lying to me, right to my face.

  “You lie, Harper Belle. There are too many secrets in this family! Like what happened to Momma. Do you know what happened to her? Why couldn’t we see her? And Aunt Dot wouldn’t take me to visit and I wanted to go! Momma came here crying, Harper. After she died. Just ask Aunt Dot! She was crying for me!”

  “Loxley…” Harper began when the doorbell rang. She put up her hands as if to instruct me to calm down. That was the story of my life.

  Be quiet, Loxley. Don’t make a fuss. Calm down!

  Harper went to answer the door, but I had had enough of her too. The only way I was going to get some answers was to talk to Momma. Surely, she would be at Summerleigh. I thought Aunt Dot had left the convertible keys since she wa
sn’t driving it today, but they weren’t on the ring where she usually hung them. She must have them in her purse. But I had to go. I had to get out of here and go find Momma. I would walk if I had to. Stupid idea, Loxley. It would take you all day and half the night to walk from here to Summerleigh. I put my hand on the back door, but I didn’t have a chance to leave undetected.

  “Loxley, where are you going?” Harper put the plastic Tupperware bowl on the counter. “Please, don’t leave.” And then her hand quivered and she began to tremble all over. This wasn’t merely a case of nerves or something like that. “Lox…ley,” she whispered in a rough, broken voice. Harper staggered forward as if to take a seat in the chair, but she didn’t make it.

  I screamed in horror as her blue eyes began rolling back in her head.

  Chapter Five—Jerica

  I kept my vision of Loxley to myself. There was too much doubt and unbelief coming from my husband to encourage me to tell him anything much. I could not understand that at all because Jesse knew as well as I did that ghosts did indeed exist and that they had once called Summerleigh home. All the Belles had secrets, in one form or another, but Loxley—I never imagined that she would need my help. From what I knew about the youngest Belle sister, she had been happily married to a young man from Mobile and, besides seeing a few ghosts during her formative years, nothing much troubled her. She seemed so peaceful and happy.

  But obviously, I had been wrong.

  I managed to fall asleep after seeing her fleeting vision in the mirror of my bathroom. I’d been in absolute shock but managed to keep my composure. Jesse had stayed up reading a crime novel while I tossed and turned. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, I settled down to sleep deeply enough to dream. And in that dream, I wandered about Summerleigh, only I wasn’t alone. There were others with me. And then I was somewhere else. But where and with whom? My first thought was, “Marisol!” but it wasn’t my daughter at all. I was standing next to Harper and Loxley, although seeing the younger Belle as a teenager was quite a shock. I’d been in the kitchen, but not our kitchen, a smaller one with a shiny red toaster and vintage cherry wallpaper. The girls were arguing, and Harper very clearly had a seizure. In life, I’d never known Harper to have seizures, and I had been her nurse for years. Although that had been a disturbing scene to witness, I knew my old friend had survived and lived many years afterward, but Loxley… The dream only lasted a few seconds and I could hear nothing, only watch the scene unfold. My heart broke for the girls, and I had to get to the bottom of Loxley’s sudden appearance in my bathroom and now in my dream. Clearly, Harper wanted me to help her sister. Why else would she come to me like this?

  Luckily for me, Jesse’s answer to strange things like my seeing our son’s carrier slide across the floor or feeling cold spots throughout the house was to offer to take Jordan out for a bit of father-son time. Our son was far too little to comprehend the concept, but I was grateful that Jesse wanted to give me a break. “The gang at the diner would love to see Jordan.” He chuckled good-naturedly like we didn’t have a care in the world. Like our peaceful home didn’t have a half-dozen guests coming in two days. I got the feeling that he wanted to prove to himself that he could actually do the dad thing without Coach Jerica making suggestions. Truth be told, I had been a bit of a Helicopter Mom lately, but that was no reason to completely dismiss my experiences.

  “Hey, Jess. Don’t let Renee give him tea or soda.”

  “What about beer?” he said with a grin as he shook his head in disbelief. I guess he thought I was joking.

  I decided not to argue with him even though I’d personally seen Aunt Ree-Ree attempt to tap a sweet-tea-filled straw near Jordan’s mouth. “You two stay out of trouble. What time do you think you’ll be back?”

  “In a few hours. You know how us Clarke boys run. We’re wild ones. Right, Jordan?” he asked as our son yawned his answer. Both of us laughed at that.

  “Wow, you’ve got a live wire on your hands there, sir. Don’t make me break out bail money for you two.” I kissed Jesse’s cheek as I slid the diaper bag up on his shoulder. “Look out, ladies.”

  Jesse lugged the carrier out to his truck, and I watched them from the doorway. Normally I’d walk the pair out and then supervise the strap job on the car seat and then remind Jesse to drive ten miles under the speed limit, but I didn’t do that today. I decided I’d give him the benefit of the doubt even though he hadn’t done me the same favor.

  Strangely, I felt relieved when they drove away to enjoy their outing. Jordan would be out of harm’s way, and I could do what I needed to do to put my mind to rest. And maybe help Loxley.

  I bit the inside of my lip as I thought about it. It had been Loxley’s name carved in the desk that sparked the first thought of her. The shack, as we now referred to Jesse’s newfound writing space, seemed like the natural place to start. Yes, that’s what I would do, go back to the shack and check it out without Jesse standing over my shoulder. I didn’t want to come off as a snoop—I couldn’t care less about his dusty old books and folders stuffed full of notes—but I could feel my senses tingling. And although I wasn’t as adept as Hannah with this whole supernatural thing or as in tune as Renee, I trusted my gut. Jesse informed me this morning that Hannah had gone on some kind of retreat. There was no way to get a message to her, and I wouldn’t try. Interrupting someone’s spiritual retreat was just wrong. Yes, my gut was worth trusting and had not let me down thus far. Bad things happened when I ignored my intuition. Besides, I had to help Loxley, and this was the only way I knew to get started.

  I slid on my tennis shoes and dug around the mudroom for my gardening gloves. It was a nice long walk, but I had a wheelbarrow and dozens of flowers to plant. That had been my idea; I just knew some pops of purple and red color would make the shack really look inviting. Might as well plant them this morning while it’s not too hot. After I check out the shack. The flowers were right where I left them in JB’s potting shed. I loaded the wheelbarrow, grabbed my tools and headed down the dirt path to the shack.

  Now that we knew the little building was on the property, I couldn’t miss it. It’s like we always knew it had been there, hidden behind the giant magnolia and a dense forest of shrubs. I was still curious about what this little place had been and who used it. Besides Loxley. Whoever carved that threat into the wood knew she’d see it, and that meant something.

  By the time I got to the shack, I was sweaty. I wiped my hands on my cutoff jeans and grabbed my water bottle. After taking a few swigs of water and wiping my brow, I climbed the three steps and went inside to check the place out. As I opened the door and stepped inside, my eyes instantly fell on the big wooden desk. The thing was a monstrosity, really, too big to be in this tiny space. But I knew Jesse would make the most of it. Immediately I made my way to the desk and rubbed my fingers over the carving.

  YOU’RE MINE, LOXLEY.

  Who would take the trouble to carve something like that? It wasn’t a heartwarming message. In fact, it gave me chills. That read like a threat, not a sweet endearment. Not like initials and a heart or an “I love you.” That would have been better.

  “Loxley, I don’t know if you can see me, but I’m here. It’s me, Jerica. I helped Harper and Jeopardy. I want to help you too if you’ll let me. I see the carving, and I know I saw you in the mirror. Is there something you want to tell me? What can I help you with, Loxley? Show me, please,” I pleaded with the image of the teenager that I summoned in my mind.

  I didn’t take so much as a footstep for fear of setting off a creaking board. If Loxley did make contact with me, I didn’t want to miss it. Shoot. Nothing. I paced the room and took a look at Jesse’s handiwork; he’d done a marvelous job of replacing boards and sanding damaged pieces. His work had really improved the place already. I tried again and again to make contact with Loxley or Harper, but apparently, nobody wanted to talk to me. Or I wasn’t as sharp, in a supernatural sense, as I believed myself to be. With a sigh of frustratio
n, I left the shack and closed the door behind me.

  Might as well plant those flowers. I reached for the hoe and began hacking at the hard ground in front of the porch. Jesse and I had removed the overgrown bushes that were clogging up the view, but the ground had been unworked for a while. Probably since John Jeffrey Belle passed away. From the look of the place when we first stumbled on it, Old Ben never so much as stepped inside.

  Ah, finally. There was good ground out here after all. My back began to ache, but I ignored the pain and knelt on the ground with the first plant in my hand. With my small shovel, I created a four-inch hole and eased the flowering bush out of the container and set it in the opening. With some excitement, I arranged the freshly turned soil over the roots and patted around it. Shoot, I’d forgotten all about water. Well, luckily the soil had some moisture in it from the rain we had earlier in the week, but I’d have to do something about getting these watered down. I went on to the next plant and then the next. Each time, I used the small shovel to make space for the new plants. Jesse would be tickled to see this newly planted flower garden. I smiled to myself as I did my best to put Loxley out of my mind, at least for a little while.