Chapter 31

 

Pennsylvania, April, 2005 CE

It was a month before she finally sent for me. We hadn’t spoken at all, and then plop! some money for plane tickets and a note asking me to come just showed up in a FedEx envelope. I was used to this by now though and was sick of sitting around at home all the time, so I booked the first plane out the next day.

You build up mental images of places when you hear about them. For some reason I had it in my head that the house in Pennsylvania would be one of those sprawling, piecemeal farms that you see in paintings; a small house with an obvious addition, a barn in the back to one side. But the place was huge, spread out across a hilltop at the end of a tree-lined gravel drive. It had a very Victorian look to it, but there was a wrap-around porch with a large balcony overhanging it. Each end of the house was marked with big, multi-windowed rooms. As the limo pulled around the driveway I also saw a modern-looking barn and what looked like a corral. When the driver parked in front of the house I saw her coming across the lawn on horseback.

She trotted up to us as the driver dragged my bags out of the trunk. I had to admit she handled the horse like a natural. The grey Arabian seemed a little big for her, but she sat on it like a queen. Somebody who’d never grown up around horses probably wouldn’t even notice how well she handled it or how the animal seemed to respond to her so eagerly.

“You ride an English saddle?” I asked, by way of greeting.

“When I’m riding for pleasure, yes. You’re a rider?”

“Grew up in Texas,” I answered and she simply nodded. She seemed a little stiff, like she wasn’t real happy to have me there.

“You get settled in,” she said diffidently. “The kitchen is well stocked so help yourself if you’re hungry.” She gave the horse a little nudge with her heels. “I’ll join you later,” she said as she rode off.

I was a little uncomfortable being dumped at the front door like that. I stood there wondering what to do with myself until an older black man showed up at the door. He introduced himself as George and took me to a room where I unpacked.

After unpacking I found myself wandering around the house. George, who appeared to be like a butler or house manager, seemed to go out of his way to avoid me as the old house’s floorboards creaked under my feet. It wasn’t much of an exploration since I avoided going into most of the rooms, but it was enlightening. The house was old but there had been lots of renovation. The bathrooms were laid out in early Victorian style, but everything was brand new, including the pull chain toilets and claw-foot tubs. The light fixtures looked like they could be oil lamps and all the switches were discreetly tucked away where they wouldn’t jar with the old-fashioned style of the place. That pretty much described the whole house, Victorian style, modern convenience.

About an hour after arriving I found myself in the kitchen. Like the rest of the place, it had a pleasant old-fashioned feel but with modern conveniences. There was a Dutch door that opened on to a patio behind the house, so I headed outside.

The property was huge. The lawn was carefully mowed about a hundred yards out from the house, but past that was tall grass, then trees surrounding everything. I decided to explore. As I wandered around I found traces of the past strewn about; an old hand lever pump set in a concrete slab, installed in 1936 if the date written in the concrete was right. There was some rusting farm equipment and the crumbling remnants of what looked like an old Ox yoke.

There was a small, fenced in area further back. I was just heading that way when an old woman’s voice spoke to me.

“So you’re Jenny’s new friend?” she said.

Startled, I turned and discovered a small, elderly woman, bundled up against the light chill in the air, grinning at me from under a heavy, wide-brimmed hat. She was round-faced but otherwise wiry and small. Her pale blue eyes sized me up and she seemed excited and guarded at the same time. Her hands were perched on top of a simple cane and she seemed to be leaning towards me like she expected great things from my answer.

“Yes,” I replied, smiling I offered her my name and stuck out my hand. She took it in a surprisingly tight grip. “I’m guessing you’re Edna?” I asked.

“The one and only,” she said with a laugh in her voice, “Edna Carstairs. So, what d’you think of the place?”

“Honestly? I was expecting an old farmhouse, not this…”

“Mansion? I understand, but it really was a farm, you know. Family grew feed corn here up until the fifties… oh, here she comes.”

Edna pointed and I followed her gesture to see Zsallia approaching on horseback across the grassy field, moving at a canter. Once she reached the lawn she slowed to a trot, bringing her mount to a halt beside us.

“Edna…” she began with an odd inflection to her voice, “do you think it wise to be out back here? The grounds really aren’t up to snuff yet. I’d hate to see you take a fall.”

Edna scowled up at her. “If I take a tumble and break my fool neck out here then it’s just my time, isn’t it? I already go to bed at night tellin’ the Lord that if He calls me home I’m ready to go and no complaints. So why get all worried about it? Besides, you’ve got enough hired hands loafin’ ‘round. I expect one of ‘em’d pick me up.”

I had to chuckle at the matter-of-fact way Edna said that, but then I saw Zsallia’s reaction. She slumped and went a little pale, and then caught me looking at her and straightened up. What happened next just about floored me.

“Please,” she said in a whisper, “Edna… don’t talk like that.”

It came out as a plea and I was seeing things in her face that I’d never seen before. It was like she was at war with herself, trying to keep from showing her feelings in front of me, but incapable of doing it in front of this woman. Suddenly I was more certain than ever that Edna was somebody I needed to talk to.

“Dearie,” Edna replied, “you just stop worrying about me. I’ve taken care of myself good enough for ninety-nine years. I think I can make it across the back yard. Are we still on for our bridge game tonight?”

Zsallia smiled broadly and nodded. “Yes indeed!”

Edna turned to face me again. “It’s been nice meetin’ you, sonny. Maybe we’ll get a chance to chat later.” And with that Edna just wheeled around on her cane and started off towards the patio. Zsallia dismounted and took the reins in her left hand as she watched Edna. She kept careful watch until Edna finally entered the house, then she sighed.

“Sometimes she can be a handful,” she said, looking at me again, “I suspect she’ll be talking your ear off once she gets the chance.”

“I can’t wait,” I replied. “I’ve been waiting nearly a month to meet her.”

“Yes, I know,” and she sighed again, looking at the ground as we began walking towards the barn with the horse in tow. “I apologize for making you wait so long. I didn’t expect it to be so hard for me to bring you here.”

“I was wondering about that. I started to think you’d decided to drop this all together.”

“Well, try to remember that a month is not a terribly long time to me.”

It was her standard I’m 3500 years old, so get used to it tactic, but it was delivered with no enthusiasm at all, so I didn’t wisecrack with her. Soon we reached the barn and she handed the Arabian off to a pretty blonde girl who might have been eighteen at most. Then we returned to the house. She left me in the library while she disappeared upstairs for a shower. I thought about seeking out Edna but Zsallia seemed to want me to just wait there, so I did.

The library was a pretty impressive room. It had a high ceiling, maybe thirty feet long by twenty feet wide. The walls were covered in books except near the doors and the large fireplace. Most of the books seemed to be brand new, even if the titles were old, although a few were pretty beat up and looked as old as the house.

I took one of the battered old ones down and read the title: The Wide Wide World. The author’s name was Wetherell. I’d never heard of her. The pages were very old and I opened it carefully. There was a note written on the first page. It had faded quite a bit, but I walked to the window and it was easy to read in the sunlight:

Catherine,

Please do give this to your young Alice when she is old enough, for it is an engaging story, even if a bit dark upon its start.

With Love,

Elaine

I found the printing date inside: 1851.

“I received it from a woman who’d just arrived in Boston from London. She’d had it for the trip across the Atlantic and she made a gift of it to me when I noted my niece…”

I hadn’t even heard her come in, but she stopped talking when I turned to face her. She was wearing blue jeans and a sweater, her hair still wet and pulled back into a ponytail. She looked miserable. I closed the book and set it on a nearby table.

“Zsallia, what’s wrong?”

“Not Zsallia. Not here. Genevieve, please, or Jenny. I… I’m sorry I’ve been so off today, it’s just that…” she paused again, laying her hands on the back of the chair before her like she was using it as a shield. “I know we have spoken together of many things… some horrible things, and I know at those times you sometimes felt as if you were engaged in a violation, as if you were forcing things from me I did not wish to share, but that has never been the truth. Not until now. Not until today.”

Well, what do you say to that? “I don’t have to be here,” I said, trying to sound neutral. “I can get a room in town…”

“No,” she stopped me, raising her hand, “that’s not it. Truly, it’s not. I just need you to leave me to myself today… I thought you might not come until the weekend and I… I should have been more… I just need to accept that you’re here and I’m not ready. Not today. Tomorrow I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Sure,” I said, but I wondered.

“I have another idea however. Tonight I have plans with Edna. But there’s time yet in the day and perhaps it’s time you talked to my lawyer, her son Joshua. I’m sure you have many questions you could ask him.”

I was a little surprised. “Well, yeah, I hadn’t thought about it but… sure.”

“Excellent,” she said crisply. “I’ve already taken the liberty of calling him and saying you’d like to meet him. His schedule is clear—he’s semi-retired anyway—and he asked that you meet him at his office.”

“Well, okay…” I said, feeling a little lost.

“No worries my friend. I have it all planned out. George has the keys to a car you may borrow and a map with names and phone numbers for Joshua, for me, for the local garage if you should get in trouble and so on. Please feel free to come back this evening… after dinner. There’s a fine diner right next to Joshua’s office.”

I laughed. “Don’t rush off but here’s your hat,” I said, grinning. She looked at me mutely and gave a brief gesture of apology. I relented. “Okay, you had plans for tonight, I don’t mind. I’ll talk to Joshua and see you after dark.”

“Splendid,” she said. Her smile was a little forced but also a little grateful. Well, what the hell I thought and headed off to find George and his map to Joshua.