The Ghosts of Peppernell Manor (6 page)

“Carleigh, that ceiling is a work of art,” Cora-Camille gushed.

“It certainly is. In all my years here I've never seen the ceilings on the first floor look better,” Vivian agreed.

Graydon folded his arms over his chest. “Carleigh, honey, I'd say you've outdone yourself,” he boomed in that thick Southern drawl of his.

Evie beamed. “I told you she'd do a great job, didn't I?”

But I couldn't rest on my laurels for long. I needed to get started on the walls. The morning after I finished the ceilings, I dropped Lucy off at school and returned to Peppernell Manor to clean up all the materials I had been using and to disassemble the scaffold. I was done a little while before I had to pick Lucy up at school, so I decided to drive into Charleston to visit one of the paint stores I would be using. Ruby asked me if she could ride along, since she had to visit a baking supply store near my destination.

“Sure,” I told her. “I'd love the company.”

I tried to make small talk with Ruby in the car on the way into Charleston. She told me about a couple of new cake recipes that she wanted to try and asked me about the colors for the rooms downstairs in the manor.

“What color is the dining room going to be?”

“Cora-Camille said that the dining room used to be wallpapered,” I answered. “So we'll try to find something that looks like the original paper, if we can find a sample of it, and go from there. If we can't find something similar, we'll use wallpaper that would have been popular during the mid-1800s.”

“What about the drawing room?”

“That's going to be a coral color. Big rooms like that in plantation homes used to be painted bright, cheery colors. There's some evidence that the drawing room used to be coral. Your mom and I are going to come up with a custom coral color.”

“That sounds pretty. What about the ballroom?”

“I don't know yet what we're doing with the ballroom. Cora-Camille decided she wants me to do the drawing room and dining room first. Then the entry hall, then the ballroom. I'm hoping to get those rooms done before Christmas because of the big party that Graydon and Vivian throw every year for the holiday.”

“That party is fun. The ballroom always looks beautiful.”

I smiled. “That's what I've heard. It sounds wonderful.”

“Sarah was never invited to parties in the ballroom.”

Sarah again. I didn't really know how to respond. Did Ruby believe in ghosts, too? “She wasn't?”

“No. She was a house slave. House slaves were not allowed at parties, except to serve people.”

“Hmmm.”

“You haven't met Sarah yet. She's Phyllis's great-great-great-great-great-grandmother,” Ruby noted, counting five “greats” on her fingers.

“She sounds interesting,” I commented. I didn't know what else to say. After all, she was talking about a dead woman.

“She is.”

By that time we were at the baking supply store, so I let Ruby out and told her where I would be, just a few doors down the block. I watched Ruby as she, clad as usual in a pastel shirtwaist and a huge straw hat, entered the store with a big smile. I then drove to the paint store and parked outside.

I had to wait a short time for the owner to finish up with another customer. When it was my turn, I talked to her about paint colors and finishes, and we spoke at length about the paint color for the drawing room. We were engrossed in a number of books, flipping back and forth between books and pages and paint swatches, when Ruby came in.

“Hi, Ruby,” I greeted her. “I'm going to be a few more minutes. Do you want to have a seat and wait for me?” I looked at my watch. “Oh, wait. I have to run over and pick up Lucy from nursery school.” I turned to the shop owner. “Can we continue this in about fifteen minutes?”

“Of course,” she answered. I grabbed my car keys from the counter and started out the door, but Ruby touched my arm.

“I can go get Lucy,” she told me shyly. “I know right where her nursery school is.”

Ruby's past struggles with anxiety sprang to mind, but then I thought of all the times she had been gentle and good to Lucy since we arrived at Peppernell Manor. I didn't want her to think I didn't trust her. I must have hesitated a moment too long, because she hastened to assure me, “I'm on the list of people who are allowed to pick her up, right? I'll hold her hand and bring her back here.” She looked at me with pleading eyes and a hopeful smile.

“All right,” I decided. “I'll be done soon, so you don't even have to bring her back here. Just wait right outside the school and I'll pick you up.”

“Okay.” She strode out the door, a woman with a purpose.

But I never should have let Ruby pick up my daughter.

I
left the paint store about ten minutes later, laden with paint swatches and books that I was borrowing from the shop owner. When I swung into a parking spot in front of the school, Lucy and Ruby were nowhere to be seen. I walked into the school, assuming that Lucy had insisted upon using the bathroom before going back to Peppernell Manor. She loved the nursery school bathrooms, with amenities sized just right for little girls and boys. But when I pushed open the bathroom door, all I heard was my voice echoing in the tiled room.

I hailed a teacher in one of the classrooms. “Have you seen Lucy?” I asked her. She sent me to the director, who was in the office.

“Ruby Peppernell picked up Lucy today,” she replied in answer to my question, scanning the day's sign-out sheet. “She had identification and she is one of the people authorized to pick up Lucy. Aren't they out front?”

“No,” I replied, swallowing hard. My voice and knees started to get a bit shaky. Why had I ever put Ruby's name on that list? Why had I allowed her to get Lucy?

“Don't worry. We'll find them in a jiffy,” she assured me gently. She talked quietly to another teacher on our way out the door, and that teacher joined us, walking around the corner of the building when we got outside.

I was becoming frantic.

I started yelling, “Lucy! Ruby! Lucy!” The teachers soon joined in my shouts. But there was no response.

I needed to do more, faster. I said to the teachers, “You keep looking. I'm going to take the car and start driving up and down the streets nearby. They can't have gotten very far.”

The teachers agreed and I sprinted to my car. I gunned the engine and pulled out of my spot with squealing tires. I drove quickly up the block, then turned and slowed down to search both sides of the street for my missing daughter and Ruby. Tears were blurring my vision and I had to keep wiping my eyes with my T-shirt. I was yelling for Lucy and Ruby out the open window, but hearing nothing. Passersby looked at me as if I was crazy, but I kept shouting.

I swung the car into a parking lot to turn around when from a half-block away I saw a woman wearing a large straw hat walking through a wrought-iron gate. I raced forward in the car only to see the woman disappearing into a house. I was trying to decide whether I should knock on the door to the home when I saw another woman walking up ahead. She too was wearing a large straw hat. I drove forward and sobbed with relief when I saw that it was indeed Ruby. She was holding Lucy's hand. Both had ice cream cones. I screeched to a halt.

“Lucy!” I screamed. My daughter turned around. She waved. “Hi, Mama!”

I choked on my tears as I dropped to my knees and hugged Lucy fiercely. She was bewildered.

“Mama, why are you crying?” she asked, clearly alarmed.

“I couldn't find you,” I sniffled.

Ruby looked on, her face becoming red. “It was my fault, Miss Carleigh. I thought we might have time to get ice cream before you came to pick us up.”

I looked at her angrily. “I told you to wait for me outside the school!” The tears started again. “Didn't you realize how terrified I would be?” I screeched at her.

Then Ruby started to cry. People were watching. I didn't care. “Get in the car,” I ordered her. I strapped Lucy into the back and returned to the nursery school. While Ruby and Lucy waited in the car, I went and explained to the teachers, who were still outside looking and yelling, that I had found them and that we were going back to Peppernell Manor. I also asked them to remove Ruby's name from the list of people authorized to pick up Lucy.

Ruby cried all the way back to Peppernell Manor. I didn't speak to her. I didn't try to make her feel better. I wanted her to experience some of the pain I had just felt. It didn't take long for Lucy to start crying, too. She was obviously upset by the tension in the car, and I waited until we were in our room in Peppernell Manor to explain why I was angry at Ruby.

“I told Ruby to wait for me outside your school. She was not allowed to take you for ice cream,” I explained. “I do not want you to go alone with Ruby anymore.”

“But I love Ruby!” Lucy wailed.

“You can still play with Ruby, but you have to stay in the house with her. You can't go anywhere with Ruby unless I am with you. Do you understand?”

She nodded mutely.

I left her in our room to rest while I went in search of Ruby. I had calmed down considerably and I wanted to talk to her about her mistake.

I found her in the kitchen, furiously kneading bread dough. “Ruby, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked softly.

She shook her head.

“Please listen to me, Ruby,” I urged. “I've had a chance to calm down and I want to talk to you.”

She sighed. “Okay.” She stopped kneading for a moment.

“Do you understand why I was so upset?” I asked her.

“Yes. I shouldn't have taken Lucy out for ice cream. But I thought she would love it.”

“I don't mind if Lucy has ice cream. That's not the issue. I was upset because I couldn't find her. Or you. I asked you to wait outside the nursery school for me and you didn't. I didn't know where you had gone and I was very worried.”

She hung her head. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“I know you are,” I told her gently. “I know you'll never do it again.”

“I won't,” she assured me.

“Friends again?” I asked with a smile.

“Yes,” she answered, her eyes downcast. I left the kitchen as she got back to her bread-making. I wasn't ready to get back to work, so I asked Evie to keep an eye on Lucy, then I wandered outside. The shadows were lengthening as the sun sank lower in the sky. I let my feet take me where they wanted; they led me to the quiet of the woods and the old slave cabins. I pushed open a creaky door and stepped gingerly into the first cabin. It smelled musty, like wet earth and mildew. The walls were made of horizontal wooden slats; thin ribbons of light peered through the cracks between the boards. A few pieces of paper fluttered from the walls. The room was divided in half by a brick fireplace. Small heaps of leaves and other detritus littered the corners and from one of the piles there came a small rustling sound. I had apparently disturbed a mouse's peace. A few lopsided hooks hung on the walls and one hook hung on each side of the fireplace.
Probably for hanging cooking utensils,
I thought.

A knock sounded softly behind me. I turned to see Phyllis step into the cabin. I was surprised to see her.

“Hi, Phyllis,” I greeted her.

“I saw you come out here,” she answered. “Sarah does not like this place to be disturbed.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I just wanted a look inside. I was thinking about how I would love to restore these cabins.”

She stared at me, mouth agape. “How could you even think about restoring these homes?” she asked angrily.

I blinked in surprise. “I thought you'd like to see them as they would have been in the mid-nineteenth century.”

“Do you know the heartbreak that took place in these homes?”

“Well, I've read a lot about it. It was horrible. That's part of the reason they should be restored, don't you see? So people can understand what life used to be like for the slaves on these Southern plantations. So people can see how different life was for the slaves than for the master and the mistress who lived in the great house.”

Phyllis shook her head. “You want other people to see where the slaves lived? You want people coming through here to
learn?
” she jeered. “It would just be white people making money off the backs of the slaves . . . again,” she added in disgust. “Do you know what stories Sarah could tell you about the things that happened in these little cabins? They'd curl that pretty red hair of yours.”

“I've been wondering how Sarah speaks to you,” I said.

She gazed at me for a moment before answering.

“The same way you do. With her mouth. But only when I'm alone.”

“Oh. Will you tell me some of Sarah's stories?” I asked.

Phyllis walked to the door and sat down in the doorway, hugging her knees. She closed her eyes. “Sarah told me this once. Her daddy knew that he was going to be sold off to a plantation many miles away from here. He was scared. Sarah's mama cried and cried. The sale was going to take place the next day. He wasn't going to be able to see his family anymore. He would rather have died than be separated from Sarah's mama and their babies, but see, that's what was going to happen. So that's what he did. He died. He shot himself right in that cabin,” she said in a faraway voice, pointing to the cabin next door. “That's what he did.”

We were both silent for many moments. Then I asked Phyllis, “Why do you stay here?”

She looked at me almost pityingly. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

“I stay here because this is where I can take care of my family's memories. That's all they left behind. Memories and stories. If I'm not here to take care of them, what's going to happen to them? They'll fall silent, just like those slave owners always wanted. I can't let that happen. So I stay. Sarah tells me the stories and I tell them to others.”

“Does Sarah ever tell any happy stories?”

“Sure she does. Some nights the slaves would fiddle and dance right here in the dark in front of their houses. If they couldn't be heard up at the great house, it was okay. No one stopped them. They had songs that belonged only to them, and they would teach the kids the songs and the fiddle. Those things got passed down from one family to the next.

“But mostly Sarah's stories aren't happy. She was a house slave, so that meant she had to work up in the great house, doing laundry and cooking and cleaning and watching the kids as if they were her own. And she was at the mistress's beck and call all the time. Then when she went to her own home at night, she would have all those same things to do for her own family. The same with the men and boys who worked in the fields. They would work all day from before dawn until after dark and then they'd have to go home and do all their own chores before they could go to bed.

“Did you know that slaves were beaten more often for being tired than for doing a poor job at their work? They just worked and worked until they were ready to drop. When they did sleep, it was on a dirty pile of rags or straw.”

“I don't know what to say, Phyllis. I don't think there are adequate words. I'm so sorry that Sarah had to go through those things.”

Phyllis had a troubled look in her eyes. “So am I.”

She seemed to shake off her melancholy then, perhaps deciding that she had confided too much in me, a virtual stranger. She rose to leave. “I don't know what you have planned for these slave cabins, but I won't stand by and watch them turned into a tourist trap like the rest of Peppernell Manor. They are part of history. My history.” She turned and I watched her make her way slowly back to the manor.

I knew I wanted to restore these old cabins. Now I had a mandate, unwittingly given to me by Phyllis. And Sarah. Make the cabins real, make them true to their original inhabitants and their lives and hardships. Make a different kind of memory for Phyllis and Sarah.

I peeked in the other cabins before returning to the manor. They were much the same as the first one. Cracks in the walls, hillocks of leaves in the corners, a palpable sense of decay and sorrow. The second cabin had dark stains on the floor. I wondered with a shudder if those stains were from the blood of Sarah's father.

Back indoors, I went right upstairs to check on Lucy. As I was walking past Vivian's room I could hear her talking to Harlan. The door was slightly ajar, but I was sure they hadn't heard my footsteps in the carpeted hallway. Though I felt like a naughty schoolgirl, I stood listening to their conversation for a moment.

“I think your idea is very wise, Harlan.”

“Which one?”

“The one to tear down those ugly old slave cabins and make that area the gift shop. They're nothing but an eyesore on this lovely property and we don't need a constant reminder of this home's past.”

“The problem is going to be Gran, Mother. She just doesn't understand that this will be the best thing for the family after she's gone.”

“Maybe your father and I can have a talk with her. She'll listen to him. Of course, he doesn't understand why this is the best thing for the family, either. I'll need to sit down and have a talk with him first.”

I walked quietly to my room and slipped inside. If Phyllis didn't want me to restore those old cabins, I was positive that she would be furious if she knew of the plans that Harlan and Vivian had for her ancestors' homes. This would be devastating to her. And I couldn't imagine Cora-Camille liking the idea one bit, either. Somehow I had to get them both to see that restoring the old cabins could be done respectfully and responsibly.

Lucy wanted to go outside for a walk, so we strolled around the house, smelling the jasmine and roses and chasing butterflies. I hadn't forgotten the prank phone call and I was careful to stay close to the house as long as Lucy was with me. We had fun playing outside until dinner was served. It was a rather quiet meal. Harlan was there, but he didn't say much and left soon after he was finished eating. Vivian obviously had something on her mind and ate in silence. Ruby stole frequent glances at me and smiled shyly at Lucy, but said nothing. She still seemed shaken, as I was, over the events of the afternoon. I felt a bit guilty that she apparently hadn't yet recovered from my outburst and lecture, but on the other hand, I was glad to see that she hadn't brushed it off as unimportant.