CHAPTER ONE- THE MANSION1064Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡizZ3SRe24Y
1064Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOC5tPlRGfZ
Louisiana heat sticks to Elizabeth’s forehead as she saunters by the iron fence beside the main road. She slumps her shoulders, sighing. The only exciting thing on the sidewalk is a pine cone, which Elizabeth kicks, watching it roll from side to side as she continues. There is nothing for her in this town, save for her new friend, Mr. Pine Cone. She wishes that she is back in Talisheek, taking in the warm summer air as she wades her feet in the lake near her home. She knows, without a doubt, that moving to Madison Lake is breaking her heart, bit by bit. Hot, stinging tears well as she sniffles.
How far is it from Madison Lake to Talisheek? I can’t remember. It can’t be that far.
The parade of homes that stretch down Main Street are different, too different from the homes she’s used to. Little shacks and scatters of farmhouses are her comfort, her joy. The homes here look befitting of the wealthiest people. Her heart sinks. Though they look resplendent to the eyes, there is something missing. There is the lack of character that she longs for in what she considers a good home. Besides, these homes are far too close to the road — and to each other. She feels cramped even looking at them. How can children of her age even play outside? She glares, thinking of her own home. Where are all the children? This town is far too silent, save for the automobiles that are occasionally barreling down the road, honking at her when they notice her presence on the sidewalk. They leave traces of dust, mucking up Elizabeth’s gown.
She realizes that this dress is too nice for an outing like this. Her mother is right. She frowns, but continues on her walk.
Elizabeth stops in her path. There is an old mansion, perhaps once white in better, more glorious days. Even though it is still standing tall and erect, there is an air of blackness all around it. Elizabeth cannot tear her gaze away from it — even for a moment. She studies it so intensely, that she is afraid that it will crumble to bits; that some terrible disaster will occur and it will fall to the ground. Though it is derelict, with cans and litter scattered over the property leading up to her feet, she comes to the conclusion that the mansion is abandoned. Elizabeth gasps, curiosity filling up in her mind. What if someone is still living in the home? She conjures a monster in her mind, prowling about the corridors of this home. This monster is preying on all the vermin that dwell within its walls. Her heart races at the disgust of it all, but the excitement is overtaking her intellect. She cannot think of anything else. This mansion is the best thing she has seen since she has moved to this God-forsaken town. All of her sorrow seems to wash away with the thought of sneaking her way inside this place. What goodies must be in it. Treasures, pictures, things that probably have been abandoned for centuries must be in there. Maybe she could take some of these things and bring it to Ma. That way, Ma can afford to pay for coffee beans; or even flour.
She is now standing at the front gate, the handle broken and the lamps on both sides are cracked. There are bird’s nests inside them. Spider webs are on the inside of the bars. Elizabeth studies their intricacies and smiles. Spiders fascinate her and she actively searches for the bug so that she can study it with her own eyes. There is no trace of an insect. She slumps her shoulders and brings her gaze back to the mansion.
Should I open the gate? If I go in, I’ll be late for supper… But I want to see what’s in here! It wouldn’t hurt to go in, would it? Elizabeth thinks as she bites her lip.
She almost acts on her desire, but someone coming from the left comes into her peripheral. She turns to see the figure of a man approaching her. He is tall, dark-skinned and is carrying a small dog that looks like she is from the North Pole. She is puffy, like white snow. As the man comes closer, Elizabeth gulps. Is he going to shoo her away? The look in his eyes tells her the affirmative. Another, perhaps more grim idea crosses her mind. What if he is the owner of this land? Her eyes widen at the thought.
“Excuse me, young miss,” he says when he is finally close enough to speak directly to her.
“Yes?” she says, feeling faint. Her heart is thundering.
The dog looks at her with its small, almond brown eyes. It seems as if the creature is smiling at her, with its tongue hanging out, her panting rhythmic. The dog began limping closer to her feet, whimpering as it looks up. It is one of the first things that Elizabeth notices about this dog — its limp.
“Celie,” the man says, “Calm down.”
“H-hello, puppy!” Elizabeth says, bringing her knees down to the dog’s level.
“Celie loves to be pet,” he says.
“She does?” Elizabeth smiles, gently stroking the dog’s back with her trembling hands.
“Of course. Celie’s a sweet dog. Say, what is a girl your age doin’ out here? The sun’s just about to set. Shouldn’t you be at home with yer parents?”
Elizabeth looks up at the sky. Sure enough, the man is correct.
“God’s painting the sky!” she exclaims.
The other man cocks his head, looking at her for an explanation. “Heh?”
“Oh,” Elizabeth says, standing up after finishing her interaction with Celie. “My Ma is always sayin’ when the sun’s about to go to sleep, that God’s painting the sky! Don’t you see?”
Elizabeth points out the way the blues, purples and oranges mix together in the sky. She tells him how this time is when God is painting.
“It’s like a gift, my Ma says. It’s God’s present to us for the day. So that we can have the memory in our minds before we go to bed.”
“Hmm,” he says, nodding in understanding. “Yer Ma seems like a wise lady.”
Elizabeth nods. “I think she is. I really do.” Elizabeth turns her gaze to the mansion.
“Curious about it?” he asks.
She nods, a smile forming at her lips.
“Best stay away though.”
“I was only —”
He smiles, shakes his head. “I know what you kids want. Y’all wanna go in and see the place. There ain’t nothing worth anything in there.”
“But what it this place?” Elizabeth asks, the curiosity of it all too much to bear. This man obviously knows something. He can tell her about it.
The man ignores her question, making Elizabeth even more irritated and frustrated than before the conversation with him.
“You should go on home now. There’s nothing to see here.” The look in his eyes, is serious. Almost like he’s giving her a warning.
Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. “Is it… haunted?”
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “You ask too many questions. Go on home.”
“I suppose so…” She doesn’t meet his eyes. “But I kinda forgot where home is…”
“How can you forget your own home?”
“I just moved here, sir. I dunno where anything is…”
“Any idea which direction?”
She stops, points her finger in one direction, then in the other. She blinks several times, thinking long and hard about it. She bites her lips, trying to come up with the memory in her mind’s eye, but her visual is too muddled with the image of the mansion. It is too strong in her mind.
“I’ll just walk you home, then.”
Elizabeth nods, allowing herself to walk on his right side. Celie, the dog, whimpers again, rubbing her face against Elizabeth’s leg. She giggles at the tickling sensation and looks down at the creature.
“She wants you to hold her.” He says, his gaze still facing forward.
“She does?”
“Celie’s lame. It’s hard for her to walk. She’s used to being held. She definitely ain’t gonna bitecha.”
They both continue walking down the road. Soon, they pass an oak tree behind a white picket fence. The homes are beginning to look more familiar to her. The home near the oak tree is redolent of a home in Talisheek, one that Elizabeth thinks of with fondness. It’s a beautiful home. Rustic. Lovely in personality. Flowers are lined up neat along the pathway which leads to the front steps of the home. The two-level home must have so many stories to tell.
“That’s my house,” he says.
“It is?”
“Yep,” he nods, the action languid. “Born and raised in that very home.”
“It’s nice.” Elizabeth smiles. “It reminds me of Talisheek.”
“That’s where you’re from?” He nods and smiles. “My Ma was born there. She still lives with me.”
Elizabeth smiles and says, “Really? What’s her name?”
“Evelyn. Evelyn Guillory. Though her maiden name is Augustin…”
“Oh. I don’t know any of those names.” She frowns, the familiar name she hopes for never escapes from the mouth of this man walking with her.
“And your name?”
“Paul.”
“Alright,” she says.
A soft breeze from the river kisses Elizabeth’s face as they continue walking down the sidewalk. It is nice that the sun is finally setting and it is cooling down. Still, Elizabet is pining for Talisheek. For its comfort, its security. This new place, even though the mansion is the only thing worth thinking of, is something that she feels she will never be accustomed to — no matter how hard she tries to acclimate herself to these new surroundings. She looks up and feels the breeze again — the leaves of the trees are gently swaying, as if dancing. She closes her eyes just for a moment and pretends. Pretends that she is not in Madison Lake. She is home now. She imagines herself walking up to her front porch, seeing her Father reading the newspaper as he is smoking his pipe, the puffs rhythmic. She can almost smell it — that manly aroma that she connects with her father’s almost indelible presence.
Then, without warning, her comforting image fades into that of the mansion. Its ugliness, the spider web, the birds nest all amalgamate together, forming new thoughts. She quickly opens her eyes and once again, that innate curiosity is building up and swelling within her. If only there was a way that she could get inside the place — without this Mr. Paul man knowing about it.
But as she realizes how late it is getting, she knows that opportunity is hopeless. Maybe another time. Maybe another time.
“There it is, sir.” She points to the house she recognizes as her own.
“The one behind that oak tree?”
“Yup.”
Once they are both on the front porch, the man knocks twice on the door. The first time, there is no response. He tries again. The door opens.
He clears his throat and says, “Hello, ma’am. I’m Paul Guillory. Terribly sorry to disturb ya, but I have your child here. Found her walkin’ the streets alone. And she got herself lost.”
She opens the door and Elizabeth listens to the familiar, low, almost guttural groan the door makes. Her mother walks out, her hair a shambles and her eyes bloodshot. She glares at her and Elizabeth feels the burn singe into her body — no, her soul. She gulps, thinking of several explanations as to why she is here with Mr. Paul Guillory. But she cannot come up with a single one.
“Care to explain, Beth? Care to explain why you left the house when I told ya not to? You know it’s Saturday, child. It’s baking day — and I needed your help in the kitchen. I can’t do it on my own. You know that. And what on God’s earth were you doin? Look at your dress! Your brand new dress that I spent hours stitchin’ up for you. Look at it.” There are tears clouding her mother’s eyes.
Elizabeth’s insides contort. The lump is rising to her throat. “I — I’m s-sorry, Ma…” She hangs her head low, not meeting her mother’s gaze.
Her nostrils flare as she bites her lower lip. “You better be sorry. Now thank you, Mr. —”
“Guillory. Paul Guillory, ma’am. I’m sorry to be an inconvenience. I only thought it right to bring your daughter safely home.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you.”
“Goodbye,” he says, smiling, nodding his head.
“No,” Elizabeth’s mother says, looking at him, “Please stay. Would you like some fresh brewed sweet tea? It’s already been iced. You can bring your pup in too.”
“Well, I appreciate the kindness but —”
“Oh don’t worry about it, it’s alright then.”
“Well, you know, I suppose I could stay for tea.”
Elizabeth walks in quickly, imagining herself drinking tea. She’s always adored the way her mother prepares iced tea. When her lips meet the cold liquid, it is like heaven enters the room, even if it just for a few moments. Her mouth begins to water.
“Beth, you don’t get any. And you know why.”
Just when she thinks she’s getting off easy. She slumps her shoulders, ambling down the foyer and making her way towards the kitchen area. The aroma of fresh biscuits brings her right back to Talisheek. Elizabeth bites her lips and closes her eyes. Why did this have to happen again? Why did she have to miss it so dreadfully? Elizabeth remembers the music her father would play. Scott Joplin and his Maple Leaf Rag. It is almost like she can hear it, distantly, in her ears. As if her father is playing piano in some other room. But it is impossible — they have no piano. Her heart sinks at the thought.
“Y’all have a piano?” Elizabeth hears Mr. Guillory ask.
“No, it’s a Decca Portable. We don’t have a piano at the momet. It’s coming in from Covington. It belonged to my —”
Elizabeth watches her mother stop, bite her lip and say nothing at all. The Maple Leaf Rag fades into Entertainer. Elizabeth, while standing against the wall, taps her fingers against her knee. She closes her eyes, imagining herself sitting next to her father, tickling the ivories with him. She sees his smiling face, his words of encouragement, words of pride for his only child. She cannot help but smile.
As she loses herself more in the moment, her mind naturally falls to the mansion. The thought that someone dwells inside there makes Elizabeth want to march right out the door and find the mansion again. But why does Mr. Guillory not want her to go inside?
“Elizabeth!” Her mother’s voice drowned her thoughts. “Tend to the man and give him a glass of tea. What are you doing just standing there? I wish your Pa never got that darn Decca. You and him both.” She shakes her head and turns away, raking her hands through the top of her head. She is trembling, breathing deep.
“Ma, your hair is messy now.”
“I suppose it is,” she says. “Can you get that glass to Mr. Guillory? He’s waitin’ for it.”
“Yes, Ma,” she says, nodding as she walks to the cupboard to retrieve a glass. “Is he in the dining room?”
“Living area, I think.”
Elizabeth hears her mutter something under her breath. “Did you say something?”
Her mother shakes her head, her eyes not facing her daughter. Elizabeth, glass in hand, watches her mother walk past the table and looks out the window. The sun has finally set. Elizabeth frowns at the thought of God no longer painting the sky. Instead, it will be black soon. Elizabeth hates the night — more than hate. She wishes it could die a brutal death several times over. That way the sun would always stay in the sky — and both she and her mother would be happy all the time. Not this. She hates seeing her mother, standing outside the window, looking at the sky, just waiting for the sky to become nothing. Elizabeth isn’t even expecting that there will be visible stars in the sky.
“Ma,” Elizabeth says. “Can’t you come with me?”
Her mother remains standing there like a statue.
“Ma?”
There is still no answer. Elizabeth thinks that it is hopeless. She walks out of the area and into the room where Mr. Guillory is seated. He is scoping the room with his eyes.
“Here’s your tea.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widen when she notices where he’s sitting. She knows that chair like the back of her hand. It is the same chair that belongs to her father. She marches and says, “Hey, you’re not supposed to be sitting here!”
Elizabeth’s eyes are filling up with hot tears.
“Why not?” his eyes show confusion mixed with shock.
“Because that’s my Pa’s chair!” She stomps one foot in front of the other and points to him. “No one sits there but Pa!”
“Elizabeth!” her mother’s sharp voice enters into the room. Her voice almost stabs Elizabeth in her side. She looks at her mother with wide eyes. Her mother grabs her by the shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the confusion, sir. You may sit there, if you’d like.”
“No,” he said, standing up. “It’s my fault. I had no idea. And I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. I hope you both have a great evening. And little girl,” he says, pointing at her, stomping, as if mocking her from earlier, “don’t you go in that mansion, now. Ya hear?”
“Yes sir,” Elizabeth mutters.
Mr. Guillory says his goodbyes with Celie in his arms. He is outside within minutes. It is at this time that Elizabeth feels her mother is going to tell her. She is only waiting for that moment where she turns, looks at her with an intensity of ten-thousand suns and says those dreaded words.
“Never do that again. You are grounded.” Her mother’s back is not facing her.
“Y-yes, Ma.”
“What could have happened to you, huh?” she asks.
“Ma, I was just out walking.”
“No. You could have been injured. You could have gotten yourself lost for more than a few hours, had Mr. Guillory not come in.”
“But Ma, I really was just having lots of fun. It’s boring here in Madison Lake. I just —”
“No!”
“Don’t be like this, please…”
“Don’t you have any idea what would happen if I lost you?” Her mother brings her daughter to her chest. Elizabeth feels her mother’s chest heaving she she sobs, those kinds of silent ones. Elizabeth remembers something that her grandmother told her before she passed back in 1927.
“Elizabeth, when someone is sobbing all quiet like it means that they’re soul’s hurting. If you ever experience this, hug that person and let them know it’s going to be alright.
“Ma?” Elizabeth’s lips tremble. “Is it ‘cause, ‘cause of P-Pa?”
Elizabeth disentangles herself from her mother’s embrace. Her mother says nothing, but brings herself to her knees and rocks herself gently. Her sobs are no longer quiet. They are loud enough that Elizabeth soon feels the trickles of tears in her eyes turn into rivers. Nothing else is said between the two of them.
As Elizabeth lays down for bed, she thinks of her father. If he hadn’t died, would he have still moved to Madison Lake with both of them?
“Pa,” Elizabeth whispers, the lump rising to her throat. “If you’re up there, please make Ma happy. Please make her wishes come true and come back to us.”
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