A Sound Among the Trees (13 page)

“That’s … that’s absurd,” Carson muttered, but Marielle sensed a hint of guardedness in his tone. “I really don’t think it’s wise to head down this road with Pearl. Or Eldora. You take either one of them too seriously and they’ll start up again with it. And I just don’t see what’s the good in that.”

“Start up with what again?”

Carson turned on his side, drawing up an arm under his head. “The whole wanting-to-set-Susannah’s-ghost-free thing. Pearl and Eldora were all over it when Eldora came here. It was ridiculous.”

“Were you and Sara here then?”

“Eldora came just a few weeks before we moved here. Before Adelaide had her heart attack and we came to care for her after her surgery.”

Marielle thought for a moment. “Wait. You’re saying Adelaide had a heart attack right after Eldora toured the house?”

Carson paused for a second. “Come on, Marielle. Don’t even start with that.”

Marielle folded her arm and positioned her head on her pillow. “I was just kidding. So have you ever met Eldora?”

“No.”

“Did Sara meet her?”

Again, Carson paused before answering. “Yes.”

“She did? Did … did Sara think Eldora was the real deal?”

Carson sighed. “I don’t know. We’d heard that Eldora had helped the cops find a missing person a couple of times. But there were also times when she couldn’t. Personally I think she just got lucky the few times she was able to help them.”

“What did Sara think about her?”

Carson didn’t speak for several long moments. “Honestly, Marielle. Does it really matter?” His voice sounded sad.

Marielle knew she should drop the subject, but she had to know one more thing. The topic might not come up again for some time. And it was such a trivial thing. Tiny compared to the other unasked questions she had.

“Did Sara know about letters Susannah wrote to her cousin in Maine during the war? Adelaide gave them to Caroline before Sara was even born. But now no one knows where they are.”

“Where’d you hear about those?”

“I read a newspaper article about Adelaide and asked what became of them. I was thinking if Caroline had given them to Sara, maybe they’re still here somewhere.”

“What difference would it make if they were?”

“Well, the article says they prove Susannah was just a girl in love, not a spy. I just think it’s interesting that the one thing that could clear all this up is missing. Maybe if Sara had known—”

“Is this really that important to you?”

She heard in his voice a heaviness, a weight she had not felt before and which startled her. A bubble of heated fear rose within her. Small but distinct.

“I just want to know if Sara ever mentioned the letters. And if Caroline still had them.”

Carson exhaled heavily. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think she knew if Caroline still had them?”

“It’s not like it was a topic that came up when Caroline would drop in out of the blue. Sara never mentioned she knew where the letters were, if that’s what you mean.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Where are you going with this?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “If the letters exonerate Susannah, then she had no horrible crimes against this house,” Marielle replied. “And if there are no crimes against the house, then there is no ghost.”

“Well, of course there is no ghost,” Carson said gently. “You don’t need letters to prove that.” He kissed her temple and then turned over to face the wall. He pulled the covers over his bare shoulders. “I’ve actually got an early day tomorrow.”

Marielle frowned. “So we’re done talking about this, I guess.”

Carson lifted his head from his pillow but didn’t turn around. His voice was kind but tired. “Aren’t we? I mean, what’s there to talk about? I don’t know where the letters are. Nobody does.” He paused, waiting for her to acknowledge him. “Okay?” he asked gently.

“I just don’t see why people think the way they do about this house when no one really seems to know what happened in it.”

He turned, reached for her cheek, and touched it. “Don’t worry about it so much.” Then he turned again to the wall.

Marielle lay on her pillow, feeling decidedly not sleepy. Her thoughts began to somersault inside her brain. Maybe Caroline hadn’t destroyed the letters—what would have been the purpose in that? Caroline only had the letters for a year when she ran away from home, most likely without taking the letters with her, which means she left them here. And it seemed unlikely to Marielle that Caroline had sold them for drug money. The collector who bought them wouldn’t have kept them a secret. So if Caroline hadn’t disposed of them, then didn’t it stand to reason the letters were still inside Holly Oak somewhere? Hidden. What if it were the letters Eldora
sensed when she had been inside the house? Not Susannah herself, but her letters.

If the letters were found, perhaps the elusive sense of peace that the house or Susannah needed would be granted. If, of course, Marielle decided to even believe the house or dead Susannah were capable of needing anything …

Finding those letters would at least lay to rest the cursed house rumors, even if only for her.

But where could the letters be? And what kind of shape would they be in?

The minutes ticked away as Marielle lay sleepless on her bed, a few too many thoughts tumbling in her head. Next to her Carson’s breathing had become low and rhythmic.

The rest of the house she knew also lay in quiet slumber.

Adelaide. Hudson. Brette.

She was alone in the house, but not alone.

Marielle sat up in bed, highly aware of the deep silence in the house. She suddenly had the uncanny and impossible sensation that she was being watched. Evaluated.

She swung her legs to the side of the bed. The notion was ridiculous. She needed air. Outside air. She needed to fill her lungs with air from the world outside this house.

Marielle stood, slipped into a pair of flip-flops and grabbed a cotton bathrobe from the chair beside the bed. She began putting it on as she walked toward the door.

The second-floor landing and stairs were tinged with tiny bursts of amber radiance from night-lights that glimmered from several electrical sockets. But the air seemed deathly still, the very antithesis of luster.

Marielle took to the stairs and was in her office off the kitchen in seconds. She flipped on a light and headed for the door to the outside that Carson had just repainted a robust red. She opened it and felt a press of
moist night air, still warm from the hours-gone day. The curtain of sticky air surprised her. The desert in Arizona left few vestiges of the sun’s relentlessness when night fell. But here in the South, there was never a night off from the contest of wills. She breathed in deeply anyway, closing her eyes and pretending for a moment that she was back on her balcony with a view of the Sedona mountains embracing her. She imagined the sand still warm but purple now in the night’s palette of midnight colors. She pictured saguaro cactus, tall as giraffes, saluting the sky. And she imagined she could hear the far-off call of a coyote and the sound the wind makes when there are no trees to slam against. Marielle opened her eyes and looked skyward, but the massive oak in front of her marred her view, the only one of its size and age in the yard. She stepped out onto the brick walkway and walked briskly to the patio for an unobstructed view of the stars. A few stray fireflies sparked in the distance.

She passed the locked doors of the cellar, angled to greet her and pale white in the moon’s glow, and made her way to the open patio. Below her, the old slaves’ quarters shone in the moonlight. Sara’s old art studio.

Caroline might have handed the letters over to Sara at some point, and Adelaide just didn’t know that she had. Perhaps Sara had stashed them in the studio …

Marielle wondered if there would be any resistance to getting a key to look inside. Carson had said he needed to clean it out but still had done nothing toward that end. If she asked for the key to look for the letters, it might hasten that little project, which was actually not a bad idea.

She sat down on one of the patio chairs and stared at the black faces of the studio’s two windows. Would he ask her to let him do it by himself? She certainly hoped he wouldn’t insist on doing it alone. But what if he did?

Marielle shook her head to dispel thoughts she had no cause to ponder.

She sat back in the chair and again tried to picture the expanse of the open desert spread out all around her. She tipped her head back to gaze at the night sky.

Nothing looked familiar.

It was as if all the stars were in the wrong places.

udson sat cross-legged on the parlor rug, his back against a table leg and a gaming device in his hands. Blips of melodic tones pinged from the tiny console as he worked the controls, a frown creasing his lips. Adelaide sat in a chair next to him, hemming a pair of uniform pants.

“I hate this game!” the boy moaned.

“Then why do you play it?” Adelaide guided the needle into the fabric.

“Because I want to win.”

Hudson bent forward, punching the buttons with fervor.

“I thought you were supposed to be upstairs packing for New York,” Adelaide said.

“I’m done.”

“Did Marielle help you?”

Hudson sat back against the table leg again and drew his knees up against his chest. “I didn’t need help.”

“Did she offer to help you?”

“I don’t need help, Mimi. I’m ten. I know what to pack. Besides, Brette wanted her.”

The needle slipped into the fabric and out again, silent and purposeful. “She might have liked to help you, Hudson. She’s never packed a boy off to spend three weeks with his grandparents before.”

“But I didn’t need help.”

Adelaide let it go. “So who is watching your rabbit while you’re gone?”

“Marielle said she would. I showed her everything.”

“That’s very nice of her.”

The boy shrugged. “I guess.”

She set the pants down on her lap. “Well, isn’t it? Isn’t it nice?”

Hudson poked at the buttons and cocked his head. “But isn’t that what moms are supposed to do? If my real mom was here, she’d take care of Ziggy and nobody would say, ‘Oh, that’s nice!’ You wouldn’t.”

“Hudson.”

He looked up at her. “What?”

“Might I suggest you use the words ‘first mom’ not ‘real mom’ around Marielle?”

He blinked. “Why?”

Adelaide picked up the pair of pants and the needle. “Because no one likes to feel like they aren’t real.”

Hudson went back to his game. “I guess.”

A moment later Carson stepped into the parlor with keys in his hands. “You all set?” he asked Hudson.

“I’ve been ready for a long time.” Hudson stood.

“Give Mimi a hug good-bye, then.” Carson spun out of the room and headed for the stairs, calling for Brette.

Her great-grandson turned to her and put his arms around her neck. She inhaled his clumsy boyness. “Be careful, Hudson. Remember what we’ve told you about strangers. Be nice to Brette. Don’t fight with her. Watch out for her. Come home safe.”

“I know all that, Mimi.”

“Yes, but I need to say it.”

A moment later Brette was in the parlor with her arms around Adelaide. “Bye, Mimi!”

“Good-bye, sweetheart. Mind your grandma and grandpa.”

“Okay.”

The girl dashed away, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and chasing after Hudson to be the first in the car. Adelaide stood and walked to the foyer to say good-bye to Carson. He had Marielle in a tight hug, and Adelaide looked away until they parted.

“If the traffic’s not too bad I might try and make it back by late tonight, but I’ll call you.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek, mindful, it seemed, of Adelaide’s presence.

“Don’t drive it if you’re tired,” Marielle said. “I know your parents want you to stay tonight with them. Mimi and I will be fine.”

Carson looked past Marielle to Adelaide standing at the doorway to the parlor. “I’ll play it by ear. You ladies have a nice day today.”

Adelaide tipped her chin. “Say hello to your parents for me.”

“Will do.”

Marielle looped her arms through his. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Adelaide watched as the couple walked away. She went back into the parlor and resettled into her chair to hem the other pant leg.

Several minutes later she heard the door to the outside open and shut. And then Marielle was at the parlor entrance, her arms crossed easily across her chest. She leaned against the door frame.

“Can I get you anything, Mimi?”

“No, dear. I am fine. Thank you, though. You going to work in your office today?”

Marielle nodded. “I have some proposals to write and my Web site to work on. It will keep me busy, I think.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

Marielle lingered at the door.

“Something on your mind, Marielle?” Adelaide asked.

“Actually, yes. I’d like … Would it be all right if I got the key to Sara’s studio?”

The needle slipped a bit, and Adelaide grazed the tip of her finger.
“And I suppose you kindly waited until Carson and the kids were all gone for the day before asking for it.”

“Yes. I didn’t want them to … I didn’t want it to be awkward for them. I just want to see inside it. I want to see what Sara was working on. You know, what she found interesting.”