Vandem House – Past

 

     For two weeks, Cecily and Meg had basked in the simple peacefulness of being left alone. Their days had been spent in picking wild flowers, helping Bonnie bake, and riding Jumper, the beautiful Palomino mare that had belonged to Meg’s mother. In their daily games, they had been in and out of nearly every structure and room on the vast property. Now, on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, they stood in the upstairs hall, in front of the doors to the room they most longed to enter.

     “We can’t, we just can’t,” Meg said, taking a step back.

   Cecily turned to her then clasped her cousin’s hand. “Don’t you want to see?”

     Meg swallowed hard as she stared at the large set of French doors, but then she nodded. Cecily reached out and turned the knob, and a moment later the two girls entered the forbidden room. It was unlike any other room in the house, and they stood mesmerized for a moment as they took in the space filled with plush chairs and decorative pillows. Colors of pink, gold, and cream splashed the walls and carpets, and a large blue vase filled with exotic feathers sat on the floor near a white marbled fireplace. Cecily was the first to cross the room; heading straight for the heavy, floor-length curtains and slowly pulling them apart. The cousins gasped in unison as the light flooded into the room, showering it in a thousand tiny dust sparkles. Meg, standing in the center of the room, held out her hands as if to catch one of the shimmering beams. Cecily walked around, looking at the pictures on the wall, most of them were paintings of flowers or gardens. Crossing to a small writing desk in the corner, she picked up one of the frames.

     “Meg, come and see,” she said, her voice shaking with excitement. “It’s my mother, and yours, too.”

     Meg was across the room in an instant, and Cecily handed her the small painting of the likeness of their mothers. The older girl tenderly traced the outline of her mother’s face. “Look how happy they are.”

   Cecily smiled and nodded. “Just like us right now. I wish we could have our picture taken.”

     Meg hugged the picture to her chest then turned to Cecily. “I think they would be happy that we’re together. Bonnie said once that she’d never seen two sisters that were as close as our mothers.”

     Cecily laid her head on Meg’s shoulder. “I wish it could have been the other way around. That my parents hadn’t died and you had come to live with us.”

     “Me too,” Meg replied softly.

     The two girls spent a good amount of time pouring over the various trinkets and looking at all the beautiful items decorating the room. They were about to leave when Meg spotted a delicate looking porcelain box on the fireplace mantel. Cecily scooted a chair over and, climbing up, carefully lifted the box down to Meg. She hopped off the chair as Meg opened the box, and instantly, it began to play a haunting little melody.

     “Oh, Meg,” Cecily cried. “It’s a music box. Listen to how beautiful it is.” Cecily glanced up at her cousin with a smile and was confused by the sight of tears in Meg’s eyes.

     “I . . . I’d forgotten,” she said, brushing a tear from her cheek. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard music.”

     Cecily began to sway to the tune, and a moment later, took her cousin’s hand and beckoned her to dance. Meg hesitated for just a second before following her cousin’s lead. The two girls continued to dance and giggle in the sunlight until a dark shadow suddenly fell over them.

     “How dare you?” Meg’s father stood in the doorway, shaking with rage. “How dare you come into this room—touch these things, and this . . .” He was across the room in a stride and yanked the music box from Meg’s hand. You two are no better than the thieves I sentence in my courtroom.”

     The girls stood frozen to the spot, too terrified to move or speak. Never before had Cecily seen her uncle so angry. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet. Why, oh why did he have to come now? Cecily felt a moist droplet hit her hand and glanced up. Meg eyes were pooled with tears, but she wasn’t looking at her father; she was fixed on someone just past him. Cecily’s heart began to thump wildly when Mr. Denton stepped out from behind her uncle.

     “Now, Judge,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “It’s not as bad as all that. They didn’t actually take the music box from the room.”

     Cecily glared at the man her uncle called friend, a man whose words always appeared kind, but who she knew secretly delighted in their misery.

     The girls waited in silent agony, longing to flee, but not daring to move so much as a muscle. Every infraction, no matter how minor, was always met with painful discipline, and Cecily couldn’t begin to imagine what they were going to have to suffer for breaking such a large rule.

     The judge took several deep breaths, visibly working to calm himself. Snapping the lid shut, the music came to a sudden stop, and the girls flinched. Crossing to the mantel, the judge replaced the porcelain box, and then turned his eyes on the two young girls in his charge.

     “Let’s go,” he said. Taking the girls each roughly by an arm, he pulled them out into the long, dark hall.   His grip was tight, and Cecily bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out as he dragged them swiftly down the hallway. When he came to the attic door at the end, he opened it and shoved the girls ahead of him up the stairs.

     “You’ll remain here,” he said. “I’ll deal with you after our company has left.”

     Cecily could just see Mr. Denton in the hall at the bottom of the stairs. He’d followed them. She took some satisfaction in knowing that at least he wasn’t going to be around to see them punished. Her satisfaction was short lived however, when a moment later, the attic door slammed shut and they were enveloped in darkness.

     “Meg?” Cecily called, already frightened. Something brushed across her hand, and she screamed.

     “It’s me, Cecily, it’s just me.”

     Cecily fell into her cousin’s arms and dissolved into tears. “What’s going to happen to us, Meg? What’s he going to do to us?”

     “Hush now,” Meg said, though her own voice shook. “Close your eyes. What do you see?”

     “Nothing. I can’t, I can’t.”

     “Yes, you can. What do you see?”

     Cecily forced herself to close her eyes and begin describing the patterns the lights behind her eyelids made. Meg took a turn next, and soon the girls felt calm enough to sit down on the wooden floor. Clinging desperately to each other, they continued their made up game. Cecily hated the attic, full of mice and roaches and completely and utterly dark. Her only solace was that she was near Meg.

     Time dragged on endlessly for the two girls locked in each other’s arms. Cecily nearly fell asleep as Meg stroked her hair, but then the door rattled and she sat up with a start.

     “Meg? Meg!” She couldn’t stop the tears from coming as the door at the bottom of the stairs opened, and she blinked rapidly against the light. Meg had no response this time, lost in her own fear, all she could do was step closer to her cousin.

     “Come with me,” the judge said.

     Cecily forced her legs to obey, and she and Meg slowly descended the stairs. Her eyes were riveted to the riding crop her uncle held in his hands.

     “Into my office,” he said, and Cecily’s knees nearly gave out. She’d only ever been sent into his office once before, and the experience had burned itself into her memory. The two girls dragged their feet as long as they dared while he held the door open. Just before the door shut, Cecily caught a glimpse of Gabe standing in the hall, and her eyes sent him a silent plea. Once the door was closed, the judge again took their already bruised arms and propelled them to the middle of the room. That’s when Cecily saw it, and a cold chill swept down her back. A rope dangled from the ceiling, a small stool placed beneath it. Meg had seen it, too, and the older girl instantly began weeping. The judge released Cecily and pulled Meg over to the stool, lifting her to stand on it. Cecily began to cry, and she brought her hands up to her mouth to keep herself silent. If she cried for Meg, it only made things worse.

     “Do you girls know what happens to thieves?” the judge asked, bringing his hands behind his back and drawing himself up. When neither girl answered, he pursed his lips and continued. “They either go to prison, or they hang.” With these words he stepped up behind a trembling Meg and pulled the rope down and over her neck.

     “Daddy, please,” Meg sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

     Cecily crammed her fists into her mouth to keep her own sobs quiet.

     “That’s what the men in my courtroom always say when I sentence them,” the judge answered. “But it won’t do you any more good than it does them—evil must be punished.” With those words the judge drew the rope up higher, forcing Meg onto the tips of her toes. Her crying turned into strangled gasps for air and Cecily, suddenly feeling sick, turned away, retching onto the carpet near her uncle’s desk. But then her head jerked back around at the sound of a crack and Meg’s anguished cry. Her uncle was whipping the back of Meg’s legs with the terrible crop. The girl danced around on her tiptoes, dangerously close to the edges of the stool. Cecily watched in horror; too shocked even to cry. The stool began to wobble and, for one terrifying moment, she thought Meg was going to fall. Before she even realized what she was doing, Cecily had flown across the room. Grabbing her cousins legs, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and turned her back to her uncle.

     “I’ve got you, Meg, I’ve got you.”

     The first crack of the whip across Cecily’s back nearly caused her to scream, but instead she kept repeating the words out loud. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” The whip continued to fall, much faster than it had been with Meg a moment ago. “I’ve got you, Meg. I’ve got you.” Cecily began to feel sick again, and a blackness was threatening to overtake her. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Just when she felt she couldn’t stand a moment longer, a loud penetrating sound filled her ears and the whip stopped. What was that sound? Her ears were ringing. It sounded like the bay of a hound . . .

     “Blasted dog!” she heard her uncle say. “Gabe! The dog’s loose. Gabe!”

     And then he was gone. The office door remained open. The ringing in her ears was getting louder, and the pain, it burned. Her back, her legs, they were on fire. She still clung to Meg. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Then Gabe was there, he was trying to lift her. “No, I have to hold Meg.” He picked them both up. Cecily cried out. Meg was quiet. He put them both in Meg’s room on the bed.

    “Gabe!” She could hear her uncle’s roar through the open window.

     “I gotta go now,” Gabe said. “Stay here. Stay quiet.”

     He was gone. The door was closed. They were alone, and then the blackness came . . .

 

 

Charlottesville, VA – Past

“ . . . Tell me, Sissy. What are you so afraid of?”

Sissy looked into the eyes in front of her, eyes filled with love and concern . . . and she remained silent.

How could he possibly understand?