The Bell House

by Lori Titus

  Damn what anyone says about things unseen, she told herself. It’s the living folks you have to worry about.

  It was barely past seven, but she climbed into bed anyway, gratefully pulling the comforter up to her chin. Maybe she’d get up later, but tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about leaving this house for good.

  As she drifted to sleep, an orange cat jumped down from the edge of the roof and settled onto the porch. A gust of cold wind rushed past the feline. It hissed and ran away.

  Jenna’s eyes grew heavy, and she thought of Stephen.

  One morning he had lain with his back to her, and she noticed a scar on his back. It was shaped like a backward “C” lying against his shoulder blade.

  “How did you get that, baby?” she whispered, tracing the mark with her fingertip. She pressed her lips to this newly discovered spot. He chuckled softly.

  “Oh, I have had that since I was fourteen,” he said. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you one day. It involves stupidity and a dirt bike.”

  THOUGHTS OF STEPHEN’S scar brought up another memory and the odd way that she came to hear of it in the first place.

  Jenna and Amanda had been sharing a plate of curly fries at Finny’s. The two women made time for a lunch date once a week, and this had been their usual outing. Amanda sat with her chin propped up on her elbows. “Well, Jenna. How do you even react to something like that?”

  “Look, I don’t take a lot of stock in this fortune crap. It was just weird how it happened.”

  “Well, tell me again.”

  “Okay. It was after school and the children were being picked up. I was standing outside the class and this woman just walks towards me and says, ‘Excuse me, Miss, I’d like to talk to you.’ ”

  “She was one of the kid’s mothers?”

  “Yes. She had her older daughter in my class the year before too, but to be honest I didn’t recognize her at first. She was one of these women who looks radically different every time you see her. She was wearing her hair long and red this year, but last year it was a short blond cut. She gave me her name again and briefly mentioned her child, and I was sure she was going to tell me there was some kind of problem. I was getting my hackles up a little bit because I don’t like to get sidelined by a parent without warning. I was about to tell her we should make an appointment to meet later when she says ‘No, Miss Bell, this is about you.’ ”

  “I couldn’t imagine what she wanted to discuss. Her children were both very respectful girls, and there hadn’t been any issues with either of them that I could recall. Maybe one of them didn’t like me? I was ready for something odd, but what she told me knocked me completely off guard.

  We sat down, and she smiled at me. And she said, ‘I don’t often do this, but I sometimes have a feeling that I need to stop someone and give them a message. And I need to tell you some things right now.’ ”

  “What did she say then?”

  Jenna sighed. “She told me about my ex. I mean personal things. I can’t really explain how anyone would know them. There were a couple of family secrets that I knew about him that she mentioned. Stuff that I only heard myself during—well—pillow talk.”

  “I hope she knew he was a jerk and it was a good thing that you left him,” Amanda said, grabbing another French fry.

  “Yeah. I believe she was gentler about it, but that’s the gist of it. And then she went on to talk about me and how I have a certain amount of fear about marriage.”

  “Oh, you mean the whole divorced kid thing? Figures. I can only count a handful of people whose parents are still married.”

  “She said that I had been proposed to twice and that while either of those men would have been okay, I wasn’t ready. She gave me their names, Amanda.”

  “Well, shit. First and last names?”

  “First names. But I wasn’t even living in Chrysalis when I was proposed to either time. And remember, these were proposals anyway, not engagements. There would be no paper trail anywhere. And one thing about being a teacher in a small town like this one, you really don’t share personal stories with anybody.”

  “How come I don’t remember hearing this before?” Amanda said.

  “Probably because I didn’t tell you.”

  The women laughed, nervously. The waiter brought them an order of Buffalo wings, which gave them a distraction for a while.

  “You think she’s legitimate?”

  Jenna met her eyes. “I think so.”

  “Okay, so there is more. Tell me.”

  “She started telling me things about a man I haven’t met yet who I will supposedly marry. She told me he makes his living caring for people and that we won’t date for very long before we marry. She said that I will know it’s him when I see a scar on his back—on his right shoulder blade. She said the scar would be made like a ‘C’. Something he got in an accident when he was a young boy. There were a lot of good things she had to say about him.”

  “Okay, well she’s not all doom and gloom then.”

  Jenna shook her head. “Not all. But she said that he would die young.”

  A THUDDING NOISE SHOOK Jenna from sleep.

  She sat up slowly, pushing hair back from her forehead.

  A night light was usually on at the top of the stairs bathing the hallway in a gold, ambient glow.

  It was pitch black instead.

  A second thud, this one louder than before, sounded from downstairs.

  The doorway.

  Barely conscious, tongue dry and swollen, and her stomach threatening to lurch, Jenna lay back down. She pressed her eyes shut and thought to herself, It’s Diana trying to bother me again, and if I lay here quietly, she’ll go away.

  A third, powerful knock sounded, this time hard enough to shake the house. Realization flooded over her like a tide of ice water. That can’t be Diana—she’s in the hospital.

  Up and on her feet, Jenna flicked on the light at her bedside table, expecting her cell phone to be there.

  She remembered. It was downstairs in her purse.

  RAQUEL HAD JUST FINISHED cooking dinner. Taleya and Maya were at the kitchen table, talking between mouthfuls of macaroni and cheese. Raquel stood in the corner of the room nervously checking her messages. She hadn’t heard anything back from Jenna or Connie.

  When the phone rang, she jumped because she was still holding it. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, but it was a South Carolina area code.

  “May I speak to Raquel . . . Bell?” A female voice flowed over the line, formal with a hint of trepidation.

  “Bell is my mother’s last name. What can I help you with?”

  “My name is Nurse Richards, and I am calling from St. Matthew’s. I’m afraid I have some news regarding your mother . . .”

  CONNIE WAS BEGINNING to fear what might have happened to Jenna, who hadn’t returned any of her calls or messages. So, as nightfall approached, Connie took her keys and went outside.

  The air was oddly warm after the rain that had swept in earlier. The dampness clung to her skin, hung around her neck like a damp blanket. The skies were a vivid blue gray, perhaps promising another burst of rain before the night settled in.

  Connie slipped behind the wheel of her car and paused for a moment before turning the ignition.

  She knew what she had to do, but that didn’t keep her from dreading it.

  SUMMER, 1969

  And somewhere down the avenue, he’s waiting, and I’ve waited too, honey. He comes to hold me near. He sighs deeply in my ear. How long you been lovin’ him? How long you been untrue? Honey, tell me now. Tell me what they said ain’t true . . .

  The old blues melody drifted in through an open window, and Travis slammed it shut. He’d only had it open a few inches, trying to catch the cooler air of nightfall.

  Apparently, someone was feeling lonely and had decided to broadcast it to the entire neighborhood. He’d heard this melody before, sung by one of the greats, though he couldn’t place
a name to the voice. It seemed that those women were always tragic, succumbing to the bottle, the pill, or worse. Some pretty brown girl with a heart riddled with cracks too deep to fix.

  It was June when the heat was at its worst. Travis’ head had throbbed all day, but with the onset of night, he felt a bit of relief. After his third beer, he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

  Humming.

  Who was humming?

  He opened his eyes.

  She sat on the edge of her bed, legs beneath her, wearing a long diaphanous gown that showed the outline of her body.

  “Willow?” the word choked from his throat. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing or that he’d even spoken her name. He’d tried not to let the word pass his lips since her death, fearing it was some sort of bad omen.

  She continued to hum, unfettered by his shock or the way he called her name.

  A moment passed, and he just stared. He did the math in his head. How many pain pills had he swallowed? He couldn’t remember taking any since mid-morning. And he hadn’t had that much beer. There was scotch in the kitchen cabinet, but he hadn’t touched the stuff since the night before. Maybe, he thought, the brain injury was worse than anybody guessed.

  “Don’t be shy,” she said, leaning forward. Her face was caught in the shine of his bedside lamp, and the light radiated through her skin. Though he could see that she was not a solid form, she was so beautiful that he held his breath.

  “How can you be here?” his voice came in a whisper.

  She reached out and touched his cheek. He cried out in pain as her fingers clawed through his flesh like talons, scraping the bone beneath. She laughed, a sound like ringing bells. His heart pounded.

  As quickly as she appeared, she was gone.

  Travis ran to his bathroom mirror expecting to see blood running down his cheeks. His flesh was intact but ice cold where Willow’s fingers had torn into him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jenna managed to get down the stairs without a light to see by.

  The pounding continued, but she didn’t dare get close enough to identify the source of the commotion. She didn’t want to be seen, and the light from outside would illuminate her face behind the glass. She had her gun at her side.

  She fumbled for the wall switch and found it, but the lights didn’t come on. What were the chances that the inside lights would all be out while an intruder pounded at her door? And if there had been an outage, why were the porch lights still on?

  Her purse sat in the middle of the couch, just where she’d left it. It took a moment for her hand to find it, but the phone was in the inside pocket where she expected it to be.

  The pounding did not stop, and standing within a few feet of the doorway, she could see that the door trembled around the hinges.

  “What do you want?” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She dropped the phone and held the gun in front of her.

  The pounding stopped.

  Jenna held her breath. She didn’t hear retreating steps or anyone moving at all. Taking a step towards the doorway, she kept her gun trained on the door.

  When the door burst open, she fired a shot.

  A powerful gust of wind knocked the door open, blowing in leaves and twigs from the yard. The cold air washed over her skin like cold water.

  Some animal instinct kicked in, and Jenna turned around, sensing a presence behind her. But she wasn’t fast enough to stop the blow to her head.

  “GET UP, BITCH.”

  Jenna opened her eyes. There was a shoe next to her face. She was lying on the floor.

  Panicking, Jenna looked around for the gun. It had slid under the couch, a few feet out of her reach.

  “I said get up!” came the voice again.

  Jenna looked up to see her sister standing above her, hands on hips. Her eyes were lit with fury. She wore jeans and a plain white tee, an oversized one that had belonged to her husband and came halfway down to her knees.

  Pulling herself away from Diana’s feet, she tried to sit up and fell back down. Pain flared through the back of her head.

  Jenna screamed. “What do you want?”

  Diana bent down and grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulling her up to her feet. Jenna turned and slapped her face. Diana’s hands fell away from her, but she stood there and laughed.

  “You think you can hurt me? You fucking idiot.”

  Jenna backed away. Looking across the floor, she saw her gun half hidden under the couch. Only the muzzle stuck out.

  “I don’t know what you’re so mad about,” Jenna edged backwards. “I haven’t done anything to you!”

  “What haven’t you done? Coming here all high and mighty. Living on my land. I want you to get gone, and you’re gonna do it tonight. Fuck you and your sob story and your pouting and sitting around here doing nothing. It’s your fault they are all mad at me. It’s why they took my Ahmad away and why Raquel came and took my girls! I’m gonna give the Ancestors what they want so they can leave me and mine alone.”

  “You’re crazy! Why did they even let you out of the hospital?”

  Diana didn’t answer. Instead, she turned towards the kitchen.

  Jenna got to her knees and pulled the gun from its hiding place.

  Diana came back and stood at the threshold of the living room, smiling now. Her silhouette was lit by the porch light, a thin, amber glow. The door was cracked open and the leaves were kicking up a stir.

  Jenna raised her gun.

  “You’re not going to hurt me again. This is my house.”

  “Really?” Diana smiled. “I’d think before I fire that thing.”

  Diana made a gesture, a curtsey, to bring Jenna’s attention to what she held in her left hand. She took in the shape with a blink of her eyes, and in realization, a moan escaped her lips.

  A gasoline can.

  “You shoot that gun, and this place just might blow. Not that it matters, because I’ve got matches.”

  Without a word or a blink, Jenna raised her gun and shot.

  “CONNIE! I THINK SHE’S coming around.”

  Raquel was sitting left of Jenna’s bedside while Connie dozed in a chair by the window. She roused herself and walked over just as Jenna opened her eyes.

  “What happened?” Jenna asked. Her voice sounded scratchy. She sat up and looked around the hospital room. There was a pitcher of water on the tray beside her, and she suddenly was thirsty.

  “How are you feeling, honey?” Connie asked.

  “A little dizzy,” Jenna said, placing her hand on her forehead. “Diana hit me in the back of my head.”

  “What?” Raquel said. “You mean Mama hit you?”

  “Yes,” Jenna said. “Can I have some water?”

  Raquel frowned and poured her a glass. There was silence in the room as the ice tumbled inside the plastic pitcher. Jenna looked from once concerned face to another and panicked. “I’m pregnant! They didn’t x-ray me or anything while I was under? Nothing happened to the baby, did it?”

  Raquel’s eyes slid away from her as she passed her the cup. Connie put her hand on Jenna’s shoulder and squeezed it.

  “No, we told the paramedics we thought you might be pregnant. The doctor ran some tests while you were unconscious and said everything is fine with the pregnancy. You do have a slight concussion and some minor smoke inhalation.”

  “Smoke inhalation?”

  “You don’t remember the fire at all, Aunt Jenna?” Raquel asked, wide eyed.

  “Well, no. Diana came by my house, and she hit me in the head. I passed out. When I woke, we were arguing. And she had a gas can . . .”

  Raquel and Constance exchanged a glance.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Constance said. “Listen, I was worried about you. Raquel had been trying to call you all day, and so had I. I decided to drive out there and see if you had gone back home. When I got there the fire had already started and you had collapsed just inside the front door. Your neighbor and I pulled you
outside and called 911.”

  “How did you know I’m pregnant?” Jenna asked. “My doctor just told me this afternoon.”

  “You have Taleya to thank for that,” Raquel replied. “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you about that later. What you need to know for now is that . . . Mama died in the hospital around three in the morning yesterday. So you couldn’t have seen her just a few hours ago.”

  “You have a head injury,” Constance added. “So one could say you thought you saw her there. Even though we know better.”

  “The guest house,” Raquel said. “It’s gone now. It burned down. Mama’s house is still standing. I’m sorry, Aunt Jenna. But maybe it’s for the best. Something is wrong with that place.”

  Jenna leaned back against her pillow, and closed her eyes. “I need to sleep for a while.”

  “Alright,” Raquel said. “We’re gonna go get some coffee, Auntie, but we’ll be back.”

  ONCE RAQUEL AND CONNIE were gone, Jenna turned her attention to the shadow that hung behind the door of her room.

  It gathered, like so much tar, and formed itself into the shape of a being.

  Diana stood before Jenna. This was not her sister as she was alive but some dark, twisted thing that looked as if its flesh were made of slime. The eyes that stared back into hers were red and held no trace of humanity.

  Diana looked upwards.

  Jenna could not help but follow her gaze.

  From the ceiling an ashy substance moved in a swirl, a vortex. It settled over Diana’s head and rained down on her body. She screamed and kicked, stomping her feet and flailing her arms as it pulled her down through the floor.

  Diana’s screams sent chills through Jenna’s flesh as the rest of the hospital remained in unaffected quiet.

  After a time, Jenna took another swallow of her water, soothing her irritated throat. She was not able to sleep again that night.