Back to Madeline Island (9 page)

“It is odd.” Howard comes to my side. “Not the bird, cardinals don't migrate, but this place—not one of the windows seems to be broken and I bet it's not been ransacked—I mean, who would even know it's here?”

“I think we're supposed to go in,” I say. “What do you think?”

“I think we should be careful,” Ruby says. “The floor may be gone or—oh look—matching rockers.” She points to two wooden rocking chairs leaning this way and that on the porch.

“I don't think they have much
rock
left,” I say, carefully lifting myself onto the first step, creaky, but holding. At the top of the porch, I turn and look back at the group and beyond. “You can't see the lake at all, not even the barn. We aren't that far back, though. Having the creek in your front yard, that's too sweet.”

“It really is a whole different world over here,” Ruby says, joining me on the porch. “Kind of mysterious, and listen to the racket the black birds are making.”

“The flooring seems solid enough,” Howard offers. The boys join us on the porch.

I reach over to the rusted doorknob and give it a turn. “I'll be damned, look at all these locks.” Above as well as below the doorknob are big, rusted locks.

Luckily, I did bring the massive key ring, so I take it out and start trying keys. Howard takes them from me and gives the situation more study, comparing the type of lock to the keys. I have no patience to be so focused, but it pays off, and before you can say “how many locks is too many,” he pushes open the door and then steps back. It creaks open so loudly, we all nervously chuckle.

“Now I don't know”—Ruby cautions in a hushed tone—“how safe…this has got to be ancient. It's rather shocking it's still even standing…really. Just because we had the correct key—why—it could be a
ghost
trap of sorts, you know.”

“It seems perfectly solid,” I say, tapping the floor with my toe and then stepping inside. “Trap—for heaven's sake, girl.”

Ruby follows me, stepping gingerly over the threshold; Howard and Johnny are right on her tail. We stand very still and look all around us in hushed amazement. It's one large room, much bigger than it seemed on the outside. The furnishings are really very simple. Several straight-back chairs face the stone fireplace. An old faded kitchen table and two chairs sit off to the left. The tablecloth hangs in ragged strips as if slowly melting. In the center of it is a vase holding sticks covered in spiderwebs.

A bed slouches in the right-hand corner; its quilt and pillows look ragged and dusty, yet it was left all tucked in and almost cozy looking—hmmm. Beyond the kitchen table, next to a long porcelain sink hanging beneath a window, hulks a blackened stove. Oil lamps hang from the rafters; one starts swinging in the breeze from the open door. Suddenly it slams shut with an enormous BANG!

“Jesus Lord God,” I bluster out and everyone joins with a few choice “adjectives.”

“Well.” Ruby adjusts her hair and we all let out a nervous laugh. “Let's do snoop, since we're here and all—I mean, what the hell?”

Ruby and I head over to the kitchen area; the boys check out the fireplace. There's a curious-looking wooden cupboard with glass doors that I know Ruby is dying to peek into.

“It's just like somebody left for the day,” Ruby half whispers. “They seem to have left everything behind, it's so odd. Feels haunted to me. Ed and I always meant to do something with this place; it's really very lovely, in its way. Needs a good going over, though.” She runs her finger over the countertop and shows me the grime.

“Does seem weird,” I say, “that all this stuff is still here. Look, even flour in the bin.” I open a drawer full of utensils, and, taking a big fork out, I touch the pale white lump in the tin flour bin. “Rock solid.”

“This china is lovely, an English pattern…Spode,” Ruby says, lifting plates and looking at the names on the back. “I bet it's right off the boat, too. Used to be, you only had one set and every woman laid out a
perfect
table every meal, can you imagine?”

A habit of hers I have finally gotten used to. All the years I've known her, I've had to make sure the coast was clear at dinner parties so she could check under the hostesses' dinner plates to see what company was providing that evening's dinnerware. We've been busted many times. Most people got used to it; come to think of it, most of them bought the stuff from her in the first place. Used to, anyway; years ago, she owned Eau Claire's finest china and silverware shop.

“Sounds horrible,” I say, “eating on china every day…”

“Smart alec,” Ruby says and turns her back to me, reaching for another plate.

“Hey,” I comment as the boys come over for a look. “Now I know what's missing—the fridge.”

“No electricity,” Howard offers, “back then. Ice delivery out here was probably not an option either. I bet there's a root cellar somewhere and, I would wager, an outhouse as well.”

“Suddenly,” I reply, “the sound of a flushing toilet is right up there with the blow dryer. I doubt if this thing works…” I pump the ancient hand pump in one corner of the porcelain sink. “Oh man, rust and goo and…hey, it's clear now.”

“This baby,” Johnny says, “is worth a fortune.” He sidles up to Ruby's side. “An original dry sink and not a thing wrong with it. I can't get over this, every drawer is full of normal things, knives, forks, a glass juicer—it's like looking through someone's stuff, you know? Like, if it wasn't for all the dust and spiderwebs, you'd expect someone to walk in the door any minute.”

“This is such a
lovely
set,” Ruby gushes.

I wonder where we'll find room. She holds up a teacup for closer inspection; the woman is drooling.

I walk over to the bed. Since the fireplace takes up the entire middle of the wall, the bed is in a snug corner to the left. Hanging along the right side of it is a floor-to-ceiling curtain. Looking up, I spy a looping wire that circles tight around the bed's three sides. Must have been for privacy. I touch the curtain and it disintegrates in my hand.

“Johnny.” Howard beckons him over. “Wonder what's in this.” They're standing in front of an imposing, dark mahogany wardrobe. “The doors are locked tight. Let's check around it for a key or something.”

A cedar trunk squats at the foot of the bed. Stooping down, I undo the metal clasp that holds it closed. Cautiously, I lift the lid; I've seen enough leaping mice and am not taking any chances here.

“Look at all this stuff in here,” I say as I carefully reach into the trunk and pull out a folded piece of fine lace. It falls into tiny pieces in my hand, leaving behind a small key. “My, my—a key. It's one of those skeleton kind.”

Johnny comes over and takes it out of my hand. “Just maybe.” He gives it to Howard; they shrug. He puts it into the wardrobe's keyhole and both doors click open.

We all gather around it. There's not much clothing, but some, and there's a lot of stuff on the shelf above.

“Good heavens,” Ruby mutters. She reaches in and pulls out a beautiful black beaded dress. “Just gorgeous and look.” She holds it up to herself. “Must have been Adeline's. Why in the
world
would she leave this here?”

“Did you guys,” I slowly say, “feel that? Like something passed by us, but didn't.” I'm getting creeped out.

“I felt—something,” Johnny says. “But I think we're okay, 'cause the temperature hasn't gotten suddenly cold. Look.” He blows out air. “Nope, at least there's not any, like, devils here or…I do feel odd, though.”

“I don't feel anything,” Howard offers. “Let's see what's up here.” He rummages around on the shelf. “Look, an old hatbox.”

He brings down a big round box covered with black silhouettes of women wearing huge, elaborate hats in loads of sizes and shapes. It's also covered with French words, in artful script. It's held closed with a dark red ribbon, and instead of a bow, it's knotted tight. Underneath the ribbon is an envelope. Howard slides it out and hands the envelope to me.

Suddenly the front door flies open and a gust of warm air surrounds us.

“What the—” I sputter out.

“Perhaps we shouldn't,” Ruby suggests. “Could be an omen of sorts.”

“I say,” Johnny says, “open it!”

Turning over the envelope, I notice a wax seal. “It's the letter P in the yellowed seal, Prévost, I'd bet. Well, here goes.” I slide my finger, the seal gives way easily, and I pull out a card that's blank on the outside. A picture flutters to the floor. “Whatever this note says, it's all in French. Anyone read French?”

“I do, a
bit
,” Ruby says, taking the letter gently from me. “It was when I attended university and was only an introduction. Oh dear me, I can make out that this has something to do with a tragedy—an unexpected wretchedness or some such. Honestly, my French is long gone, I'm afraid.”

Howard thrusts the hatbox into my hands, with very raised eyebrows.

“Look at this,” Johnny says, handing the picture to Ruby. We crowd around her for a good look.

It's an old-fashioned photo of a couple, very posed and with no smiles. Never understood that, all those old pictures marching up and down the wall back at the cottage and in not one of them does anyone smile.

“That's Adeline and Gustave,” Ruby informs us. “Must be soon after they arrived here, or perhaps this was done over in France.” She turns it over. “Nineteen-oh-six, way before Ed's father was born, and I'm sure before they came here. Look—she's got on that black dress. So lovely, she was a beautiful woman, there was such an elegance about her, but a melancholy, too.”

“Quite the mustache,” I say. “Look at those lips of his. I bet he was a great kisser.”

Howard and Johnny lean in for a better look. I move over to the kitchen table and clear a place for the hatbox and then go and root around for a pair of scissors.

“I for one,” I comment, coming back to the table, scissors in hand, “will not be able to sleep until I know just what the devil”—I shoot a look toward Johnny—“is in here. Anyone care to do the honors?”

Howard goes and closes the door, then rejoins us. “In case something—or someone—wants to get in here.”

I go and open it up again. “In case something wants to get the hell out! Now, anyone? Thought not. Here it goes.” I cut through the heavy ribbon and it falls away.

I lift the cover off, handing it to Ruby. She holds it like a shield. We all lean over and peer inside.

“A tiny quilt of some sort,” I whisper and give it a poke. Then I reach in and lift out the bundle and place it on the table. Then little by little, unwrap it. The quilt falls away.

Ruby lets out a screech. Howard and Johnny gasp really loud and I just stand there in shock.

“A baby,” I choke out.

I
t's a little past nine in the morning, and the gang of Ruby's Aprons is all assembled in the front room of the boathouse. Lilly and Sam have been listening to us recount our excursion to the cabin with bated breath and countless
gasps
.

“Then,” Ruby explains, “smart alec Eve simply unwraps the poor child's burial shroud—I couldn't do a thing but—”

“Scream her damn head off,” I finish for her, blowing smoke out the screen door. I snub out my hundredth cigarette (this has really got me rattled) and head over to my cutting table to hold court.

“Land.” Sam shakes her head, huge hoop earrings making little smacking noises against her cheeks. “I told you all, nothin good was going to come with your poking your noses around over there.”

“Shouldn't you call the authorities?” Lilly asks.

“What for?” I ask back. “Whatever happened to that little baby—happened almost a hundred years ago. Isn't the statute of limitations more like seven years? Besides, if we can decipher the note, maybe the whole thing will be solved and then we can—”

“Do the proper thing,” Ruby adds. “A funeral of sorts, I mean, we simply can't just let things be.”

“No ma'am,” Sam says. “Once the door is opened, you gotta finish what you set into motion.”

“If you were to
see
the skeleton,” Johnny carefully asks Sam, “could you maybe tell who or—”

Sam holds up her ring-covered hand in protest. “I took this job 'cause I could sew real good and the belly dancing is a fine bonus, but I don't wanna be looking at a pile of bones that will haunt me the rest of my days, no way—no how—no sir!”

“I'll take that as a
no
,” I offer and we sort of chuckle. Howard's back in the office seeing if he can translate the note—I'm losing my mind. “Check this out; talk about the universe sending mixed messages!” I hold up the ream of fabric I was about to start cutting into apron pieces; it's covered with storks carrying little naked babies. I decide on a bolt of red-checked gingham instead.

“I've got it!” Ruby proclaims, heading over to the deer-head phone. “Give that Ryan a ring; he's busy getting his doctorate in forensics. Perhaps
he
can help us.”

“I'd really hate to involve him,” I say while cutting away. “I mean I'd really prefer to keep this here, you know? 'Course, maybe he
could
tell us something and don't they take some sort of oath of privacy or something like that?”

Howard walks into the room. His normally broad shoulders are slumped, and instead of wearing a grin, he's obviously upset. “I've finished translating the note,” he flatly announces. “I think everyone should hear this.”

The sewing machines come to a stop. Lilly takes her bifocals from her nose and positions them into her extravagant hair. Sam sighs and Johnny goes over to stand next to Howard, who is not enjoying this. Ruby turns off the Ink Spots CD and comes over to my cutting table and then Howard clears his throat.

“It took me a while to translate the note, mainly due to the writing being so small and some of it was faded in places, which I later decided were from her tears. But you won't believe this and I swear I didn't make it up.”

“Oh Lordie,” Lilly mutters.

The room falls silent and then Howard reads from the note. “‘The year is nineteen-oh-eight, it is late autumn, and I was once again with child. Our firstborn, Thomas…'”

“Ed's father,” Ruby quietly says. “He was an only child, or so we…”

“Ruby—c'mon, let him finish,” I say and she nods.

Howard resumes. “‘Our firstborn, Thomas, brings us such joy, but not only was my daughter born dead, but she was not Gustave's. You see, sometime before we left for America, I learned my husband, as many Parisians do, had a lover. Instead of behaving as most women and ignoring the situation, I took a lover as well. He was from the African country Niger.'”

“Oh boy,” Sam utters, “that was one
black
baby.”

Howard clears his throat. “‘Gustave became enraged. Not only was the child born dead, he screamed, but black as ink as well. Darkness came to this cabin. He refused to let me even bury my baby and wanted only to banish the memory. I was told to take very little. The cabin was filled with evil, he raged to me. In a matter of days, we were to move into the now completed main house. I was forbidden to speak of it ever again'…She underlines the word
jamais
'—which is French for
never
—‘many times, and you can tell she was really upset, the writing is so shaky. Anyway, where was I…‘for the two remaining nights here, I dreamt of an angel with curly red hair, who promised to one day give my daughter an honorable funeral. I can…'”

“What the hell?” I say, octaves higher than I thought possible. “This
can't be
!”

“I'm almost done,” Howard says and then finishes with: “‘I can only pray for this, as I am too afraid to cross Gustave. I have never seen him so mad with anger and I fear for both Thomas and me, as I cannot do what is proper and dignified for this innocent soul. I beg you to bring peace and an end to this most tragic event. In God's name, I am Adeline Prévost.'”

“The poor dear,” Ruby says. “But there
must
be some mistake. Eve's not even a real redhead!”

 

“I just don't know,” Ruby says. Her hip closed the fridge. “Isn't it illegal to bury someone without asking the cemetery first? I mean, people would be over there digging holes for just
anyone
, I should think.” She chops onions with more zest than ever.

“We'll go there at night,” I plead my case. “You're the one who told me Adeline and Gustave are buried here on the island and—”

“Eve, darling, I certainly don't want that bloody Gustave character haunting this place because we decided—
you
decided—his wife's illegitimate child's soul won't leave the earth plane until she receives a proper burial. Have I got it correctly?”

“More or less.” I nearly give Rocky a kiss, then remember the breakfast mishap and pat him on his purring head instead. “And here we thought he was such a looker. Well, he was, but to be so cold—so hypocritically nasty. What a mean man.”

“Give us a bit of that, eh?” Ruby's knife points to my cigarette.

Walking around the stump table, I put it between her lips and she takes in a good drag. I follow suit. My nerves are all prickly. Just the thought of that peculiar hatbox over there holding that tiny little skeleton and—I shudder recalling—the ominous note.

“Are you chilled, darling?”

“In a way—adult beverage?”

I select two stems from our collection and pour. We almost clink, then decide not to.

“Hang on a second.” I head into the living room, over toward the hi-fi.

I pull out an LP of Doris Day's
Greatest Hits;
we need something soothing and what could be better than Doris. Once the tubes have warmed up, she croons, “When I Fall in Love.” I sigh and then trot back into the kitchen.

“I can't help but wonder,” I wonder, plopping down onto a stool, “if Adeline really
did
mean me, in her note, I mean. I
used
to have red hair and I
certainly
am an angel.”

Ruby looks over toward me, shakes her head and then snaps open a quart jar of homemade pasta sauce.

“You certainly are, darling—perhaps she
did
mean you. You know, I
am
learning that we all are more connected than meets the eye, and perhaps life—and death—all
does
follow some sort of pattern or order. I think you've shared that sentiment with me, and the more life I experience, as I get wiser, well, it simply makes sense.”

“What gets me, well, there's a lot, but mainly, to leave a little baby in a hatbox and just—
leave
! But they only moved here. I mean, I bet you could see that place just by looking out the back door. You can't now with all those trees and brush and all. But good God, talk about
torture
.”

“Times were different,” Ruby adds. “Women had no rights—none. I only wish I'd had an inkling…that I'd gotten to know her better. She outlived her husband, her son—and his wife as well. She had such an air about her; now I can begin to understand why.”

Ruby climbs up the stepping stool, selects a sauté pan from the rack suspended over the stump table and then sets it over the flickering flame. With the knife blade, she scrapes the chopped onions into it, swirls olive oil over them, a bit of salt and then turns up the flame, making a nice sizzling sound as they begin to brown.

She rinses her hands, adjusts the collar of her cashmere sweater and regards Rocky and me. “Why is it, do you think, that even today, nearly a hundred years later, we
still
treat one another so—with such
prejudice
? From skin color, for pity's sake, to whom you love? I'm finding it harder and harder to stomach.”

“Good,” I reply. “Means you're not going to just sit back and let things be. I think it's when people stop caring that nothing changes and sometimes things get worse.”

“Perhaps you're right.” Ruby takes a sip of wine and resumes her cooking. “What time are we meeting the boys?”

“You mean you'll come?” I say, heading toward the phone.

“Of course, darling. It can't do any harm, and perhaps it will clear the air for Adeline, and really—we can't leave that poor child's bones over there. It simply wouldn't be proper. Now what in the world does one wear to such an event?”

“Pearls,” I say and dial the boys next door.

We decide on basic black. Ruby's idea of anything basic means a beautifully tailored coat over silky pants and—of course—pearls. Me: black bulky sweater, black jeans and Doc Martins; someone is going to have to dig and I'm not so sure I can count on Howard. He did mention he'd whipped together a small wooden box, so I'm not going to complain.

It's dusk, the sun is just beginning to slide into the lake, and seeing as none of us wants to go anywhere near the little cabin in the dark, the four of us decide to head over there now. We're in my van and I'm just driving over the bridge. I pull over a bit beyond the creek and we all get out.

“We look as though we're going to a punk bar or something,” Ruby says. “You boys look terribly dashing in black.”

“I had to tell Johnny,” Howard informs us. “This is not a leather pants affair; besides, we
do
think this is the right thing to do. I only wish we knew exactly where Adeline and Gustave are buried.”

“The thought,” Johnny adds as we file along the path leading to the cabin, “of searching around in the dark for their graves is a little disturbing.”

“Actually, comrades,” Ruby offers, “I accompanied Ed, of course, when we put his grandmother to rest and have a very good idea of where to look. What was the name? Oh yes, Greenwood Cemetery.”

“Hey,” I say as we approach the sagging porch. “We've been there. It's tucked among a grove of enormous white pines. Just like this place is.”

We're huddled at the base of the stairs. Several loons call out and we look around, half expecting someone. It's a haunting sound and this is definitely a haunting situation.

“Here.” I hand flashlights all around. “I'm not about to go in there alone and Ruby—didn't you want that china?”

“You know, darling, I think perhaps I'll pass for now.” We nervously titter.

I step up onto the porch, the rest reluctantly follow. Shoulder to shoulder, Ruby and I cross into the cabin and head over to the kitchen table. The box is there.

“What the?” I say in the half-light. “Look—holy shit!”

The hatbox has its top back on, but the weird part is that the ribbon that I had cut through—is knotted back into place!

“You
all
saw me.” I look from astonished face to astonished face. They all nod.

“I think”—Ruby steps over and carefully lifts the box—“we should be on our way, don't you?” She turns and quickly heads to the door. “Howard, be a dear and relock the locks, will you?”

“Um, sure.”

With Ruby in the lead, we file down the stairs and along the path, toward the van.

“Johnny, would you be a love,” Ruby asks, in a hushed tone.

He opens the cargo door and lifts the top off the miniature coffin. Ruby gently sets the hatbox inside and then he replaces the cover. We all clamber into my van, and boy, could I use about fifteen cigarettes right about now.

I drive through the gate and head down North Shore to the cemetery. We checked the map before leaving the cottage, so I'm pretty sure where it is. Since we're
very
creeped out, the van is silent. I'm doing my best trying
not
to think about, you know, how the ribbon might have retied itself. That would have had to happen after the ribbon
healed
itself and that could only mean—maybe I should think about something else, like how bad I have to pee. There, that did the trick, sort of.

After going up and down and around this curving roadway, I signal a left and also turn on my headlights as dusk is coming on. There's not a car in sight; that's good.

“I think we're coming close,” I say. “Keep your eyes peeled, I believe the entrance will be on my side.”

“We just passed it,” Howard informs me. “I think I saw a truck parked in there, too.”

I hang a U-turn and drive us back to the cemetery's entrance.

“If I'm not mistaken,” I say, “isn't that—”

“Why look,” Ruby says as I pull over and park beside the truck. “It's Sam and Lilly, too. How in the world?” Ruby and I look at one another and raise our freshly tweezed brows sky-high.