Hattie looked up at that, and a softness came into her eyes. “Let’s take a look at the room, then we’ll have some tea, how about that?”
Erielle exchanged a glance with Samson as this time, his mother led the way through the foyer and into the library, without being told where to go. Erielle noticed she held her purse a little tighter to her side, ducked her head a bit as she entered the hallway, though she had plenty of room. Erielle felt like she should be up in the front, but the other women followed, Sam last of all.
He hadn’t replaced the busted bulb, but somehow it was intact overhead. Allison inspected the jars on the wire shelf, Leslie and Marie were at the workbench, and Hattie inspected the paintings. This time she did touch the bottom painting, and a smile curved her lips.
“Miss you, Angeline,” she murmured.
“She’s been gone seven years,” Marie said, her voice low and respectful. “That seems about right.”
“What does?” Erielle was reaching the end of her patience.
“Let’s go have a seat in the kitchen. You can make us all some iced tea, can’t you?” Hattie replied, putting a hand on the small of Erielle’s back to guide her out. Well, not gentle enough to guide. More of a push.
Twenty-One
The women settledin chairs around the table, not touching the napkins in their disquieting shape. Samson scooted the painting to the center, placing Erielle’s sketch on top of it. Her hands shook as she poured out the tea into plastic cups because she hadn’t washed the glasses. Sam was beside her in an instant, clearly reading her nerves, and helped her carry the cups to the table, careful not to disturb the napkins. His mom’s fingers toyed with the edge of one of the napkins, smoothing it anxiously.
“Why don’t you start?” Marie said. “Tell us what has been going on in this house.”
Erielle glanced over at Sam, who leaned against the counter, his hand tight on his flimsy cup. He shrugged and gestured for her to go ahead.
Though there was a remaining chair for her, she didn’t sit down. She told the women of her dreams, of the picture moving on its own, of the whispers of her name.
“Then last night, Samson stayed over, because I’d been sleeping in my car,” she said, her face heating although nothing had happened between them. “I was asleep, dreaming.” Her face heated because her dream had been about Samson, but she wasn’t going to reveal that. “And suddenly I was cold, like I’d been plunged into a frozen lake. I woke up, and she was standing over me.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Sam said, edging down the counter so she could see him, not just sense him behind her.
No, they hadn’t really talked about what exactly had happened last night, both still reeling. She shook her head, not wanting to veer off from her story.
“She said something, but I’m not sure what.” It had sounded like, “Not him.” But she didn’t want to go down that road, either. “I was too busy screaming and trying to get away.”
She had thrashed about, trying to get off the stupid air mattress, away from the apparition. If she closed her eyes, she could see the filmy skeletal face, the bony hand reaching from a tattered sleeve.
So she didn’t close her eyes. Instead, she watched the other women exchange looks before turning their attention back to her.
“And then Sam was there, and he went through her, or she went through him. She was trying to keep him from me, is all I know. We couldn’t get out the front door no matter what we did, so we ran to the back, and out of the house.”
Mrs. Guillory turned to Sam. “Is that how you remember it?”
“I was down here.” He gestured in the direction of the living room. “I heard her scream and I ran up to help. Yes, I went through her, and like Erielle said, it was like being dumped in a frozen lake. Like, the whole thing. Vision got blurry, hearing was muffled. I felt like I couldn’t move, but I knew I had to. So I did. I think it surprised her, because she didn’t immediately come after us.”
“And you saw the same thing? The woman in a white dress?”
He swallowed, gaze sliding aside. “Yeah.” He nodded. “I saw her.”
Hattie set her cup down. “Have a seat, Samson.”
The only chair remaining was leaning against the far wall, the rung broken, so he hopped onto the counter instead.
“So Phantom Bayou was founded as a timber town,” Samson’s mother began once she saw he was settled. “There was a mill and everything. Families moved in, men worked at the mill, made lots of money for the mill owners. There were some beautiful houses in town, in those days. The mayor and his family had this house built. And because they were the richest, well, they kept getting elected, generation after generation. The town was bigger then, but not big enough to produce prospective brides. So the young men of the Clarke family would go to New Orleans for their brides. Some of the brides were happy to leave the city. Some were not. The one you met last night was not.”
Erielle’s pulse picked up. “How do you know who it was?”
“How many ghosts do you think live in the house?” Hattie asked, setting her cup down and leveling a look at Erielle. “I thought you probably would have met her when you were a child, but maybe not. Maybe she was protective of you. Or maybe…” Her voice trailed off. “She hated being here, you know? Kind of like your mama and aunt. They wanted to be near the city, experiencing what other young girls did. The mayor’s wife, Millicent, wanted to be in the city, enjoying the money and privilege she had grown up with. Word was that she had a lover there, but of course she and the mayor denied it.”
“They had twins,” Marie picked up. ”Their parentage was in question, by those who suspected the lover in the city, but the mayor treated them as his own, was just as proud of them, though he had to know what the town was saying. But apparently, privately, she begged him to let her go back to the city, back to her lover. And when he didn’t, she killed the children.”
”Oh my God!” Erielle slapped her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t imagine how deranged the woman had to be in order to do that. She didn’t want to know how, hoped the women wouldn’t tell her.
