by HR Mason
When Hank left, he’d told her he wouldn’t be back that night. He’d made the excuse that he had too much work to do, but Aubrey knew better. The fact that one of her family members had killed his and buried him in the yard wasn’t something they were going to be able to get past.
Whatever they had been building together was over. Hank blamed her, and he was right. Her family was crazy. They had schemed, plotted, and murdered one another, generation after generation. The Ross DNA coursed through her body, and eventually the curse would catch up to her. Why would Hank want to tie himself to that? No man in his right mind would.
Aubrey’s phone vibrated on the table beside her. She glanced at the display and saw it was Clara Millburn. Surprised, Aubrey answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Ross. I’m sure you’re exhausted after such a long and terrible day, but I’ve found something I wanted to share with you.”
“You’ve found something else?”
“Yes. Do you remember the first day we met, when Hank brought you to the library?”
“Of course I do.”
“When I asked you what you were looking for, you said you were trying to break a family curse.”
“Yes, though I’m not sure why I said that. I suppose I was trying to make light of a difficult situation.”
“Well, when you mentioned a curse, the wheels in my librarian brain started turning. I looked into the Ross family’s genealogy.”
“You did? What did you find?”
“I deal in facts, Ms. Ross, but I have to say that what I uncovered about your family gave me pause, to say the least.”
“What is it?”
“I dug through the Ross family tree, back before they came to America.”
“You were able to find that?”
Clara scoffed. “My dear, if it exists, I can find it. Anyway, Cullen Ross, Marshall’s father, was born in a small village in Scotland in 1760. That particular village had a knack for exemplary record keeping. I was able to find a journal entry that was preserved in the town’s records.
“You have my attention,” Aubrey replied.
“Apparently Cullen Ross was quite a wealthy man, accruing his power throughout the years by questionable means.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“Cullen’s money and power led him to believe he could have anything he wanted, including the most beautiful girl in the village, Ione.”
“That was Marshall’s mother’s name.”
“Ione’s beauty and kindness were apparently legendary, and Cullen decided she should be his. Ione didn’t want to marry him, but Cullen persisted. He told Ione’s mother, Annis, that he would marry her daughter, whether or not she agreed. Annis was the village wisewoman, and she didn’t want her daughter marrying a wicked man like Cullen.”
“I can understand that.”
“One night, Cullen went into Annis’s home and took Ione against her will.”
“This is unbelievable.”
“Annis, the village healer, was also considered by some to be a witch. Cullen and Annis argued, and Cullen killed her. Before Annis died, she cast a hex on Cullen, cursing both him and the Ross family. Because of his greed, Annis told him each generation of his family would be blighted. The Ross brides would all die young, and diseases of the mind would run rampant through their veins.”
“That all sounds eerily accurate, Clara,” Aubrey breathed.
“It’s not a happy story, to say the least.”
“Did you find anything about how to break the curse?”
“The story the villagers told said the curse could only be broken by one whose heart wasn’t ruled by greed. When the circle was complete, it would all end.”
Aubrey sat in silence, holding the phone to her ear, trying to grasp the threads of the unbelievable tale.
“Aubrey, are you still there?” Clara asked after several moments.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m still here.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in. It’s a bit far-fetched, but I figured you’d want to know.”
“I can’t believe you were able to uncover that story. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“Like I said, if there’s information to be found, I’ll find it. I’m not one to put much credence in curses or ghost stories, but it was interesting nevertheless.”
“Interesting is an understatement. Thank you, Clara.”
Shocked, Aubrey hung up the phone. Clara’s tale, seemingly nothing but a superstitious fairy story, had accurately described everything Aubrey had discovered about her relatives. She knew without a doubt that the Ross family curse was real.
There was a knock at the door, and Aubrey rose from her chair to answer. Opening it, she was surprised to find Mr. Bonaventure standing there. Although he had been in her house on an almost daily basis, she had spoken very few words to the caretaker, who also happened to be her grandfather.
“Hello, Mr. Bonaventure. What can I do for you?”
“I would like to have a few words with you.”
His request and timing seemed strange, but Aubrey thought he was probably curious about the discoveries of the investigation. Or maybe he wanted to try to make amends with her.
“Come in.”
She gestured for him to enter and led him into the sitting room.
“I apologize for all the candles. It’s been an exhausting day, and I was trying to relax.”
Aubrey turned around to face Mr. Bonaventure, only to realize he had a gun pointed straight at her head.
36
“What are you doing? Why do you have a gun?”
Panic seized Aubrey as she took full stock of the situation. Mr. Bonaventure stared at her, his lip curled into a sneer. His steady hands gripped the gun, aiming the firearm directly at her.
“Why did you come back to Desolate Ridge? Why couldn’t you just stay gone?”
“What are you talking about?”
“All you had to do was stay away. It wouldn’t have had to come to this.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re just like your mother, trying to ruin everything.”
Aubrey had no idea what was going on, but insanity was visible behind the man’s cold dead eyes. He had clearly snapped. If she didn’t want to meet a bullet, she needed to keep him talking. She had to find out what he knew, and why he wanted to kill her.
“What did my mother ruin, Mr. Bonaventure?”
“She tried to ruin my son’s life.”
“You mean because she got pregnant with me?”
“Of course that’s what I mean, you stupid girl,” he hissed.
“So you knew all along that Anson was my father?”
“Yes, I knew.”
“You and your wife both knew, and you didn’t tell Anson?”
“He didn’t need to know. Your mother wanted to destroy his life. She got herself pregnant, hoping to trap him. The two of you would have ruined him. But I took care of it.”
“You helped Stuart get rid of us.”
“Who do you think kept you and your mother locked in that room? It certainly wasn’t Stuart Ross. He liked to keep his hands clean.”
“You knew Aubrey was mine, Dad? You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”
Anson’s voice sliced through the tension in the room like a knife. Both Aubrey’s and Mr. Bonaventure’s heads whipped around in surprise.
“Anson, what are you doing here?” Mr. Bonaventure asked.
“I came to talk to Aubrey. What are you doing here? And why are you pointing a gun at my daughter?”
“You need to leave, Anson. Turn around and get out of here. Forget what you’ve seen, son,” Mr. Bonaventure stated.
“That’s not going to happen.”
Anson walked across the room and stood next to Aubrey, whose eyes were wide with shock and terror. He planted his body directly beside hers, standing so close that their shoulders touched.
“Put the gun down, Dad,” A
nson instructed.
“I can’t do that, son. It’s too late.”
“What’s going on in here?” Mrs. Bonaventure screamed as she ran into the room.
“Why are you here, Coral?” Mr. Bonaventure snapped at his wife.
“I knew something was wrong when you left, so I followed you. What are you doing?” Mrs. Bonaventure’s voice shook as she took stock of the situation.
“I’m solving the problem. One I thought was solved a long time ago.”
Mr. Bonaventure adjusted his stance and pulled the hammer of the gun, locking it into place.
“You don’t have to kill anyone, Dad. What you did in the past doesn’t matter. I forgive you. I forgive you for knowing about Aubrey and not telling me,” Anson pleaded with his father.
“All she had to do was stay away. She made a mess of everything when she came back to Desolate Ridge,” Mr. Bonaventure repeated.
“I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” Aubrey asked.
“You ruined everything!”
“All I did was what I was instructed to do. They told me to come to Desolate Ridge. They said that everything was mine,” Aubrey stated emphatically.
“It shouldn’t be yours! It was supposed to be mine!” Mr. Bonaventure screamed.
Everything grew quiet as his words exploded into the room like a hand grenade tossed into battle.
Suddenly it all made sense. Aubrey remembered the conversation she’d had with Mr. Lemon. She had asked the attorney who would have inherited the Ross fortune if she hadn’t returned. He told her Stuart Ross named a beneficiary, but Mr. Lemon was unable to disclose the name.
Mr. Bonaventure had worked for Stuart Ross his whole life. From the sound of things, he had been more than just the caretaker. He had been Stuart’s cleaner, the man who made all of the problems and evidence magically disappear. In return for his years of service, Stuart had promised Mr. Bonaventure a fortune.
Then Aubrey showed up, not only bringing to light the fact that she was Anson’s daughter, but ensuring Mr. Bonaventure would never inherit a cent.
“What are you talking about, Michael? Please tell me none of this is true.” Mrs. Bonaventure’s voice quivered.
“For years I worked for that man, doing anything and everything he told me to do. I never questioned him. I just did it. He promised me that someday, as long as Anna never returned, it would all be mine.”
Mr. Bonaventure’s eyes took on a faraway gaze. His hands, still holding the gun, began to tremble as he continued.
“I thought all the loose ends had been tied up when Anna disappeared with Aubrey. I thought the problem had solved itself. But then I got scared that the spoiled little brat would come back when she figured out she couldn’t do it on her own. If Anna returned, I would get nothing.”
“What did you do, Dad?”
Anson’s voice shook as understanding dawned. Aubrey reached over and gripped her father’s hand tightly inside her own.
“I did what needed to be done, son. It wasn’t all that hard to find Anna, and everyone knew how troubled the girl was. It wasn’t difficult to make it appear that she’d killed herself.”
“You killed Anna? You killed the woman I loved?” Disbelief and pain enveloped Anson’s words as he lashed out at his father.
“I did it all for you. You didn’t need that girl. Or her daughter.”
“No, Dad, no. Please tell me you didn’t do it.”
“They were standing in the way of our fortune. Don’t you see, Anson? All of this was supposed to be ours.” Mr. Bonaventure pulled one hand away from the gun and gestured around the room.
“You killed Anna for money?” Anson’s voice dripped with sadness and disbelief.
“I would have given everything to you, you crazy old fool! I never wanted any of this. Don’t you understand? I don’t want it! You’re as sick as my grandparents were. I hate money! It makes people insane,” Aubrey screamed.
Fueled by anger, Anson ran across the room toward his father, slamming his body into the older man’s. The impact knocked the gun out of Mr. Bonaventure’s hand, and it clattered to the floor, firing off a shot in the process. The wayward bullet sailed across the room, hitting Mrs. Bonaventure in the head. Her body slumped to the ground.
Anson scrambled to his feet and ran to his mother. He rolled her body over, but one look was all it took for him to understand it was too late. She was dead.
“What have you done? You killed her!” Anson sobbed as he cradled his mother’s lifeless form in his arms.
Mr. Bonaventure stared in disbelief at his wife, limp in his son’s embrace.
“I… I didn’t mean for her….”
Mr. Bonaventure stood to his feet and paced back and forth across the sitting room. He ran his hands through his hair as his crazed eyes settled on Aubrey, focusing on her with tunnel vision. Aubrey was stunned, frozen in place, unable to fully take it all in.
“This is your fault. All of it. Everything that’s gone wrong has been because of you.” Mr. Bonaventure spoke slowly and deliberately as he stooped down, grabbed the gun, and pointed it at Aubrey once again. He pulled the hammer into place, and the clicking sound reverberated throughout the room.
Aubrey, too shocked to move, watched everything as it played out in slow motion.
As Mr. Bonaventure pulled the trigger, Anson sprinted across the room, flinging himself directly into the path of the gun, shielding his daughter’s body with his. The bullet hit him straight on, ripping into his flesh. Stunned, he crashed into Aubrey, the impact bringing them both to the ground.
Anson’s body smashed into the table, knocking over all the candles in the process. He landed on top of Aubrey, pinning her beneath him.
“No. No. No. Anson!” Mr. Bonaventure screamed.
In one swift movement, Aubrey saw Mr. Bonaventure look back and forth from his wife’s motionless body to his son’s. Without hesitation, he stuffed the barrel of the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger. His large body hit the floor with a thud.
The flames from the candles spread quickly, and soon almost the entire room was on fire. Aubrey scooted her body out from beneath her father’s. She glanced down at her clothing, realizing she was covered in blood. She didn’t know if it belonged to her or to Anson.
Smoke billowed throughout the room, and Aubrey coughed and sputtered. She felt lightheaded as she noticed a large stream of blood spurting out of her leg. She had also been hit by the bullet.
She crawled over to her father and rolled his body over, placing him on his back. Resting her head on his body, she listened for breathing. His chest was moving up and down slightly. He was still alive.
Anson had taken the brunt of the bullet’s impact. It had ripped through his chest, tearing skin and tissue, passing through his body before lodging into her leg. He was in far worse shape than Aubrey was. Her father had taken the shot for her, and he was paying the price.
The blood was gurgling out of his chest in a steady stream, a puddle forming around his body. Aubrey forced herself to choke down the bile in her throat. She had to help her father. He had lost so much blood.
“Anson… Anson, wake up. We have to get out of here,” she pleaded as she ripped off the bottom of her shirt and placed it on his wound, applying pressure.
“Aubrey….”
“Yes, I’m here. But we have to get out.”
Knowing she needed him to listen to her, she released the pressure on his wound and gripped his face between her hands. His eyelids fluttered open and he looked at her, locking his eyes on hers.
“My daughter….”
“Yes, yes. Look at me. Stay with me.”
“Love you… so… much.”
“Look at me, please.”
“Anna….”
“Don’t leave me.”
“So… sorry….”
“Stay with me.”
“Sorry… love… you.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You saved my life.”
Blood trailed from Anson’s mouth and his eyes began to glaze over. The gravity of the situation nearly slapped Aubrey across the face. Her father wasn’t going to make it. He was going to die.
Aubrey threw her body over his and sobbed. It wasn’t fair. She’d spent her life without a father, and just when they’d found one another, he’d been ripped away from her once again.
“Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you… Dad.”
Aubrey heard Anson take one last rattling breath. His chest rose and fell a final time, and she knew he was gone. She held him closely, not wanting to let go.
Aubrey began to cough and wheeze as her head grew light. She looked around the sitting room, now completely engulfed in the blaze. Her leg was bleeding profusely. She’d been so focused on her father that she hadn’t realized she’d lost so much blood herself. She tried to stand, but when she put pressure on her leg, her body collapsed beneath her.
Losing her balance, she fell, hitting her forehead on the edge of the corner table.
Aubrey crumpled to the floor, her body lying in a puddle of blood as the smoke began to overtake her. She coughed and sputtered, her ragged breaths growing increasingly shallow. She touched one shaking hand to her forehead, feeling the blood pour from the open wound.
The flames grew larger, consuming everything in its path. She knew there was no escape. Her eyelids fluttered open and shut as she drifted in and out of consciousness.
She saw her mother, young and alone, cradling her closely as she ran away from the horrors of Desolate Ridge.
“I love you, Aubrey. I always loved you,” Anna whispered.
“I know that now. I love you too, Mama,” Aubrey answered.
Aubrey closed her eyes. Nothing had ended the way she’d hoped, but she finally understood her role in her family’s story. She’d done her part. She’d found the truth and dug up the secrets. She’d unearthed the past.
She had broken the curse.
Aubrey’s eyelids fluttered open again, and she smiled weakly as the women filed past her, one by one: Ione, Eleanor, Emilia, Anne, Catherine, Elsie, Annabelle, and Elizabeth. Each one smiled as she vanished into the smoke.
“I told you it all ends with you.” Marie knelt beside Aubrey and caressed her cheek tenderly.
