Hallow House - Part Two Read online

  HALLOW HOUSE: PART II

  By

  Jane Toombs

  ISBN: 978-1-926965-72-7

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Books We Love Publishing Partners

  192 Lakeside Greens Drive

  Chestermere, Alberta, T1X 1C2

  Canada

  Copyright © 2010 by Jane Toombs

  Cover Art © 2011 by Michelle Lee

  Chapter 21

  By the time John returned, Samara had fallen asleep on Vera's bed. Though exhausted, Vera lay with her eyes open, the small cuts on her body smarting, unable to stop thinking about what had happened.

  "Johanna?" she asked, sitting up carefully so as not to rouse Samara.

  "Irma's bringing her up. I though Johanna should wake in her own crib." He glanced at the sleeping Samara.

  "Poor child, none of this is her fault," Vera said, her voice low. "She blames herself, but "

  "I blame myself." John shook his head. "I've been blind to everything but my own misguided hatred." He touched his daughter's hair lightly. "he tried to talk to me about Johanna and I hardly listened. The baby was an annoyance I was sorry existed."

  "But you did hire me," Vera said.

  He put his hand to her cheek and she saw his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Vera...: He his words trailed off and he removed his hand as Irma came into the room with Johanna."

  "She's still sleeping, poor little tike," Irma said.

  John held out his arms. "I'll take her." They disappeared into the nursery.

  "Needing to see with her own eyes that Johanna was all right, Vera slipped out of bed and followed them.

  Before she reached the crib Irma stopped her. "I thank the Lord you're all right. Was it the boy all this time?"

  Unable to speak, Vera nodded.

  Irma sighed. "What a terrible night." Her eyes focused on Vera and she drew in her breath. "He hurt you."

  "Not seriously, I'll be fine."

  "Best you get right back into bed and rest."

  Vera put an arm around Irma's shoulders, leading her gently from the nursery toward the door of her room. "You must get some sleep, too. You've done more than your share, keeping the maids from hysterics, taking care of Johanna and Samara."

  "Little enough," Irma said, looking gratified. "You were a gift from God to this house," she added as she left.

  If only I could have found a way to help Sergei before it was too late, Vera thought, knowing in her heart it had already been too late before she ever set foot in the house.

  As she walked back into the nursery, the image came back to her of Sergei reflected in the mirrors as he laughed and brandished the knife and she shuddered, wishing she could banish the memory forever.

  Then she noticed John standing beside the baby's crib and joined him,

  "Johanna sleeps so soundly." A thread of worry ran through his words. "She's so tiny, so fragile."

  Vera felt for a pulse in the baby's neck. Strong and regular. "I don't think she's in danger. The drug wasn't meant to harm her, just keep her quiet. At least she won't remember tonight."

  John turned to her. "If you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to help you forget tonight, Trying to help us both forget."

  Her heart went out to him. Would he ever be able to forget he'd killed his own son, no matter how accidentally?

  "I love you, Vera," he told her, "The hardest thing I've ever done was to arrange for you to be sent from me. Now I know I can't let you go. I offer you my love and..." Sadness lined his face, grief shadowed his eyes. "And my family's legacy of strangeness and death."

  "You're the only man I'll ever love," she said. "And I don't believe in your legacy. Death finds us all in time. Ours will come, too, but not ahead of time. There'll be no more strangeness in Hallow House, There'll be love." Her voice was fierce. "Happiness. Johanna will grow to laugh. Samara can learn to smile--it's not too late."

  He smiled, but his smile didn't last. "Do you think evil can be banished so easily?"

  "Sergei wasn't evil, only mentally sick."

  "Evil haunts that room."

  Vera shook her head. "A room is only a room. Lock it forever if you must, but don't believe it's evil."

  He reached for her, pulling her close. "Ah, Vera, you almost make me believe I have a chance to start over. Help me keep from the same mistakes."

  Johanna stirred, whimpering in her sleep. They both looked down at her, then Vera's gaze met his, a question in her eyes.

  "Johanna?" he said softly. "It makes no difference who her father is, I've come to realize that. She's an innocent, a person in her own right--not an object for bitterness. You love her. I can, too. She'll be our child."

  Our child. Because she comes from neither of us? Vera wondered. Perhaps John never would accept Johanna as his own seed, yet he was willing to accept the baby with love--wasn't that enough? Then, with his mouth on hers, there was no time to think.

  He kissed her lips, her face, her throat, then pulled away abruptly, horror in his eyes. She felt her throat, saw blood on her hand and realized the touch of his lips had made the knife prick start bleeding again.

  Suddenly dizzy, she sat down in the rocker. He stood over her a moment, then dropped to his knees, buried his face in her lap and wept. Vera held him and tried to remember it would be all right, everything would, in time.

  Chapter 22

  Frances Cabell, Johanna's new nurse, arrived on the first day of 1936, exactly as scheduled. No one in the house had recalled she was due or had thought of her at all. When she phone from the train station in Tulare, Vincent, fully recovered, offered to pick her up and drive her to Hallow House.

  Sergei's funeral had been the day before. The county sheriff was a man of common sense who'd known John for years. There was to be no court case.

  Frances was fifty, looked fifty. A large-boned woman, she had dark hair streaked with gray and honest brown eyes. She also spoke the truth as she saw it.

  "Whoever let this poor man drive all that way to get me" she asked John after introductions had been made. "Why, he must have taken a terrible clout to look like he does,:

  Vera glanced at the green and yellow fading bruise that covered half of Vincent's face. He did look awful, but they'd gotten used to it.

  John raised her eyebrows.

  "No one tells Vincent what to do," Vera put in hastily. "He insists he feels fine."

  Vincent grinned at Frances. "Had to fight her off to keep her from commandeering the wheel on the way back. " He shot Vera a sly look. "Reminded me of someone else."

  "I'm happy you're here," Vera told Frances. "Although I won't be leaving, we--John and I--want you to stay on."

  "Vera and I will be married in a few month," John said. "We'd like you to stay and look after Johanna while we're on our honeymoon."

  Frances glanced from one to the other. "Of course I'll stay. If I knew you better I'd offer my congratulations on the coming marriage. Still, you appear to be sensible people and so I've little doubt it'll work out well for you both."

  "Thank you," Vera managed to say.

  John bowed slightly, a smile hovering on his lips. Vincent, Vera saw, had fled out the front door, where she suspected he was doubled up with laughter.

  "I'll take you to your room," Vera told Frances, "and you can meet Johanna." As they climbed the stairs she added, " Your room is odd the nursery. It was mine, but when we realized you--when we thought about you coming, I felt you should be next to the baby so I moved to another room."

  Vera thought of the hasty move this morning after the phone call from the Tulare train station, she, Blanche and Geneva carrying her belonging down the hall, changing the bed linen, cleaning.

  "Mr. Vincent told me
about the boy's death," Frances said. "Accidents are difficult for the survivors."

  "Yes, very."

  "He mentioned the boy had a twin sister--will I be caring for her, too?"

  "No, Samara will be off to boarding school in two weeks, St. Bianca's. We plan to be married when she's home at Easter--she especially wanted to be here for the ceremony."

  "I enjoy weddings," Frances said. "Never married myself, but I like them."

  "This is your room and, as you can see, there's a connecting door to the nursery."

  Frances dropped her purse on the dresser and walked ahead of Vera to stand by the crib where Johanna was banging a toy against the bars.

  "Mama," she said when she caught sight of Vera. "Mama."

  Frances hunched down she her face was on a level with Johanna's. "Hello Jo-Jo. Aren't you a pretty little girl."

  The baby's big gray eyes examined Frances' face for a long moment, then she smiled and reached through the bars to grab at Frances' nose.

  The nurse talked to the baby a few minutes more, then stood straight. "We'll get along with each other, I can see. She's a happy baby."

  Vera thought of Johanna's pinched face and spindly body when she'd arrived in November and of all the tragedies that had taken place since the little girl was born. "Yes, she said slowly, "a happy baby."

  "Where will you and Mr. John be going for your honeymoon?"

  Vera felt the surge of excitement that gripped her whenever she talked of her coming marriage. "I can hardly believe where we're going--to Manila, to the Philippine Islands. But that isn't all--we're flying on the China Clipper!"

  "I though they only flew the mail."

  "They can carry thirty-two passengers. We're stopping overnight in places I've never even heard of--Wake island, Midway, and Guam." She smiled at Frances. "It's like a dream.

  Vera had asked John how much money it would cost and found each round trip ticket was over a thousand dollars. She and her father had lived comfortably but there's never been money to spend recklessly, just on a whim.

  She'd happened to mention to John she'd arrived at Hallow House that same day the China Clipper landed after flying the first mail run to Manila and he'd arranged the honeymoon trip to surprise her. He wanted to buy her everything--diamonds, new clothes, a car.

  "You have three cars now, she'd pointed out. "That's not counting the truck Jose drives."

  "For you," John insisted, "anything you want."

  He couldn't understand he was all she really wanted and the money was only a pleasant bonus.

  In the following days, Vera let Frances assume more and more of Johanna's care, though it wrung her hear to do so. She felt she was letting a stranger take her place. France was capable, kind and obviously fond of Johanna and John was happy about the extra time Vera could spend with him. But sometimes she longed for the days when she'd been Johanna's whole world.

  Samara was fearful, yet excited about going off to school. "I won't know how to talk to anybody," she said to Vera.

  "Of course you will. You're a reader, talk about books. You ride, talk about horses. You're a girl, talk about boys."

  Samara giggled and the sound made Vera blink back tears.

  "Frances told me I was 'pretty as a picture.'" Samara's voice was uncertain.

  "You know Frances always says what she thinks."

  "Do you think I'm pretty?"

  "I told you so months ago and I haven't changed my mind."

  "Will you and Daddy come see me at St. Bianca's?"

  "Of course. Don't forget it's my Alma Mater."

  Samara's eyes clouded. "I only wish Sergei..."

  "Don't dwell on the past. There's no changing what happened."

  "Do you think he--he went to hell?"

  "My father taught me not to believe in hell." Vera's voice was firm. "Whatever is left of Sergei is free, not trapped in madness as he was."

  Samara's face brightened. "Oh, I hope so."

  When Samara came home on April, all preparations for Vera and John's marriage were in place. The wedding itself was a mixture of joy and sadness. Vera mourned for her father, knowing he would have liked John, would have been interested in Hallow House and its history. He would have been pleased to see her marry the man she loved.

  She watched John as he waited for her to join him at the church altar. His face was set and cold, making her wonder if he was thinking of another ceremony years ago, when he waited not for her, but for Delores. He must have loved Delores then and believed in their happiness.

  Remembering how she'd cautioned Samara not to dwell on the past, she put such thought away from her and placed her hand on Stanley Aaron's arm to be led down the aisle. She loved John; she'd make him happy.

  Aunt Adele and Theola had come to the church for the ceremony--their first outing in years, They sat next to each other in a front pew, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. Vera made up her mind she'd plan more activities for them. The old should not be shut away.

  Marie, pale-faced and shadow-eyed, was maid of honor. Though her salmon pink gown was new, it seemed to fit her too tightly--she looked bloated. She kept refusing to see a doctor--perhaps Vincent could persuade her. As best man he stood next to John, looking far happier than the groom.

  Was John regretting his proposal? He turned and caught sight of her and her heart lifted as the warmth of love filled his eyes. She smiled at him. There weren't many people in the church--the family and a few close friends like Stan who'd flown in from New York to give her away. Vera didn't mind how few. The important thing was to be married to John, to be his wife.

  "...take this man..." Father Thetis was saying.

  Yes. Forever.

  As she and John came back down the aisle, Vera heard Johanna cry, "Mama, mama."

  "Now, now, precious," Frances told her. "You can go to you mama later."

  Johanna began sobbing as though her heart would break. Vera stopped and lifted the baby from Frances' arms. "Here I am, sweetheart," she crooned, wondering how many brides walked out of the church carrying another woman's baby.

  John gave her an indulgent smile. "All right, but I absolutely refuse to take her with us to Manila."

  The honeymoon trip to the Philippines was something Vera knew she'd never forget. The exotic places, strange tongues and complete foreignness of the surroundings were fascinating and yet, no more than a background for the consummation of her love for John. She realized how wise was the choice of traveling so far from Hallow House, because they'd left the past behind as well.

  John was a different man. His natural warmth and affection broke through the barrier of unhappiness and grief from the past. He looked and acted younger. Yet, watching him, Vera saw his mind was sometimes not on her or the sights about them. Hallow House, she thought. He longs for home. She vowed to think of it as home, because home for her would always be where John was.

  But when the Packard pulled round the last curve and she saw the white gleam of Hallow House rising about the dark greens of the orange grove, her heart contracted and a tremor ran through her, though the summer day was unpleasantly hot. Nausea rose in her throat and she took a deep breath. If, as she suspected, she was pregnant, then this was foolish behavior for an expectant mother. She was a nurse, she didn't believe old wives' tales, but it stood to reason unnecessary agitation was good for no one.

  As the car passed between the pink marble snarling wolves that guarded it, Vera closed her eyes and tried to picture Johanna in her mind, but gave up. Fourteen months old! They'd left on the Clipper just after Johanna's first birthday in May. She was walking now, Frances had told them when they'd called from San Francisco. Vera let the anticipating of seeing Johanna replace any negative thoughts.

  The days passed and Vera forgot her momentary twinge of panic at the sight of Hallow House. Johanna, toddling about, was happy and loving. Though she was having some difficulty speaking, and tired easily, her development appeared normal/ Frances stayed on to care for her and, Vera admitted, t
o become her own companion as well. She enjoyed the older woman's bluntness and honesty.

  Marie had left immediately after the wedding, asking Vincent to drive her to the train. There hadn't bee a word from her since, seemingly she'd disappeared. Vera worried that Marie might think she wasn't wanted, worried than she might be ill somewhere and unable to contact them.

  John told her quite curtly to put Marie from he mind, so she tried to. Vincent was in and out. He'd visited Samara at summer camp in place of Vera, who'd been too nauseated to make the trip. She'd see Samara when she came home at the end of the summer, several weeks before returning to school.