Chapter VII
Hazel woke with a start. She sat in bed for a minute trying to grasp anything she could from the dream before it was gone. The only thing she remembered for more than a few minutes was that she was in a car, and then she saw water. It was a strange dream, but she didn’t dwell on it, after all it was just a dream.
Hazel ran down to the basement. It took her a minute to figure out how to use the washer, but when she did she was relieved to avoid questions about her muddy clothes. It didn’t last long; Mrs. Norwich chose that morning to wash her blankets. She called Hazel down after breakfast.
“Why are the clothes you wore yesterday in the wash?” Mrs. Norwich’s hands were on her hips. She looked poised to strike at the wrong answer.
“I just thought I should help out more.” Hazel said innocently.
“And why didn’t you decide to wash all of your dirty clothes?”
Hazel didn’t have an answer for this. But she was clever, and thought up an excuse very fast. “I hear small loads are better to ensure everything gets washed evenly.”
Mrs. Norwich gave her a strange look. “Just put them in the dryer.”
As Hazel was figuring out how to use the dryer she decided to get a little information about what she found the night before. “What is on a nineteen twenty-six dime?”
“Nineteen twenty-six? That was the year I was born. I have a few of those around, did you find one?”
“No, I was just wondering.”
“From nineteen sixteen to Roosevelt’s death in nineteen forty-five we had Mercury dimes.”
“Oh, what was that thing on the back?”
“A Fasces.”
“A what?”
“It’s a bundle of sticks with an axe.”
“What does it mean?”
“Hmm, I don’t remember.”
“That’s alright.”
Hazel now knew about the dime, but what she really wanted to know was how it got buried in a hill. She thought about asking if Mrs. Norwich was missing one, but had to remind herself that the mystery was all her own.
“I have a question for you.” Mrs. Norwich suddenly asked.
Hazel was trying to figure out how to keep her mystery a secret and didn’t hear what her grandmother said. “What?”
“I need to take something to town, but I don’t want to go down and do it, do you think you could go down and do it for me. You say you want to run around outside, here’s your chance.”
“Sure.” Hazel readily accepted the task, if she was lucky then she could find out why everyone hated her grandmother while there. “What do you need done?”
“I need you to go to the little library and return a book. I put it on my shelf by accident and forgot about it. I’ll give you the money for the late fee. The librarian always has something rude to say, and I don’t feel like dealing with her today. If you would go up and get it that would be great. It’s the only book that has a library sticker. Here’s some money.”
Hazel wasted no time. In twenty seconds she was in the room with the book shelves. The one from the library was easy to spot. It was a history book about the Gilded Age. It was on a high shelf and when Hazel reached for it, it fell to the floor with a loud smack. She picked it up carefully and noticed another book, on the bottom shelf. It was very thin and very old. Hazel looked it over. It was a children’s picture book from the 1930’s. There were bizarre creatures on the cover. They came in all colors and had wings and little horns. They were creepy so Hazel put the book back without even looking inside.
It was another hot day outside. Hazel happily skipped down the path in the forest, excited to be out on her own in town for the first time. She was bound to find out something that would move her sleuthing along. Before long the small town opened up before her, the cute old houses reminding her of an old story.
She went through town, realizing that she never asked where the library was. It was alright, she would just have to ask someone. That proved to be harder than originally expected. She went up to several people, all of whom had better things to do then to talk to her. They must have known whose granddaughter she was. The hatred must have been deep. If only someone would tell her what happened? It did not take long for that to happen. While walking down a gravel path between an ancient school house and the post office a boy of about her age came up to her.
“You the Nor-itch girl?”
Hazel took a step back. This boy looked dirty, had on suspenders, and apparently had no clean shirts at his disposal so he just went without. “Excuse me?” Hazel said a little more snobby than she had intended.
“I asked if you was the Nor-itch girl. You’re grand-mama is the old witch from the house up the hill?”
“Witch?” This boy was clearly not making a very good first impression. “Why did you call her that?” Hazel asked.
“Everyone does.”
“And why is that?” Hazel asked, her anger rising.
“’Cause of all the stories.” The boy said simply.
“Can you tell me some of them?”
“I only know a few. She killed her husband, and then sent her daughter away. That family used to care about us down here, and then they don’t. My grandmamma told me.”
Hazel couldn’t believe it. Why would her parents let her go to a murderer’s house? They wouldn’t. Clearly this boy was mistaken. “You’re mistaken, that never happened.”
“Then why all the stories?”
He had a point, but Hazel wouldn’t admit it. “Someone decided to play a mean joke one day by saying that and now it’s regarded as fact. It’s so obvious.”
“If you say so.” The boy walked away.
“Wait.” Hazel called.
“Yes.”
Hazel was determined to flesh out all the possibilities before the boy could get away and help spread lies. “Or, and this is probably the case. Since she has lived alone for so long in that big house the rumors started because someone thought it was strange that she didn’t live with anyone. So obviously they made all that stuff up.”
“If you say so.” The boy said again as he started to walk away.
“Wait!” Hazel called again. The boy didn’t stop this time.
She continued on, flustered. How could anyone believe something so terrible about her grandmother? Sure she was strict, her house was creepy, and she sent her daughter away. But did that mean she was a murderer. Hazel knew it wasn’t true, and yet there was a tiny sliver of doubt within her. After all, she didn’t know what happened to her grandfather. It would have been easy to get rid of someone in that big old house. And hadn’t she seen and heard strange things? A vengeful spirit, maybe? And what of the little animals? No, absolutely not. Hazel pushed it from her mind.
When she became aware of her surroundings again she was standing right in front of the Swansberry Public Library. She took a deep breath and entered.
It was a small building, smelling of old books. The carpet was a dirty brown and the tables had names carved in to them with dates from forty years before. The main desk was off to the right, with a particularly stern looking woman staring at her. Hazel went up and put the book on the counter.
“I need to return this.” She said nervously. “I think there is a late fee.”
The librarian looked down at the book through large, thick glasses. “Let’s see here. Aw yes, this book was due two months ago.” She looked Hazel over. “You’re Annabella’s daughter?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I heard you were in town.” The librarian said coldly. “I am going to have to charge you five dollars.”
Hazel passed a five dollar bill across the counter. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, now I would appreciate it if you told your grandmother to return books on time.”
“Yes ma’am.” Hazel sad dully.
She stepped out of the library hoping to never have to deal with that li
brarian again. She walked around the town and was met with strange looks, everyone knew who she was. This got so annoying that she decided it was best to go back to the house. The only thing that she accomplished was finding out why people of Swansberry hate her grandmother. She was determined to find the truth.
That night came the perfect chance. After dinner Mrs. Norwich pulled out a chess set. Hazel had learned to play chess with her father, but on those occasions they made up their own rules half way through the game. Hazel made sure to play by the rules against her grandmother, especially if she was going to ask the questions that she wanted answered.
“So,” Hazel started several minutes into the game, “how long have you lived alone.”
“Oh, it’s been a long time now. Check.”
Hazel scanned the board. “Already?”
Mrs. Norwich chuckled. “Yes, already, you’ve left your king back there by himself.”
Hazel moved her queen back to protect her king. “But I mean, why live alone? You could have moved in with mom and dad.”
Mrs. Norwich captured Hazel’s second bishop. “No, I’ve always lived here and I always will. I can’t imagine seeing this house being owned by someone else.”
“Has your whole family lived here?”
“Yes.”
Hazel captured a knight, the first piece she captured that wasn’t a pawn. “Was your husband from Swansberry?” She looked up at her grandmother, afraid she was out of line.
“Yes.” Mrs. Norwich said simply.
“Oh,” Hazel looked down at the board, “whatever happened to him?” She asked as innocently as possible.
Mrs. Norwich sighed, her smile shifted to being reminiscing. “He got sick, and then died. The doctor did not know what was wrong.”
Hazel felt a sudden pain. It sounded like the same type of thing that her mother was going through. “That’s terrible.” She said weakly.
Hazel wanted to ask the question that had been haunting her all day, but she could not bring herself to. How does someone ask a relative if they killed their husband? They can’t, and Hazel didn’t. She was almost certain that it was all a lie, and that is what she was going to believe.
The game ended when Mrs. Norwich captured all of Hazel’s pieces except the king. Hazel tried to fight on, but gave up in the end. She spent the night in her room, thinking things over and trying to make sense of it all. There wasn’t any sense to be had. Little animals, creaks in the house, possible murder. It didn’t make any sense.
She went to bed early that night, wanting to sleep on all the things that happened that day. The night was hot, the air conditioning wasn’t on and Hazel didn’t know where the controls were. She opened the window before getting in bed. The breeze felt good in the stuffy room.
Sometime after midnight moon beams passed slowly into the room, illuminating the bed with a ghostly white light. Hazel slept on. A fly buzzed through the window and around the room. Hazel did not wake. The fly found the window and buzzed out and the moon passed away from the room. Hazel woke. She looked up at the dark ceiling, turned over, but could not get back to sleep. There was something keeping her awake, a noise. She listened hard and could hear a faint rumble from the open window. It was so quiet that her slightest movement drowned it out. Lying completely still she heard it again. Hazel got up and went to the window, but from what little light she could see with she could tell that there was nothing there. It wasn’t coming from the back of the house, but the front. And it wasn’t just any rumble, but that which can only be made by a car.
Hazel ran to the door, yanked it open, and sped down the hall; looking for a room with a window that faced the front. She could hardly believe it, her dad had come early. She rounded the corner to the attic, knew there were no windows, and went the other way. After turning down several corners she found a room with a front facing window and looked out. The front porch light was on, and there was no car in sight. Hazel lifted the window and strained to hear it again. The low rumble continued directly below her in the front yard, but there was nothing there. She backed away from the window. What else could make that noise? It was clearly that of a car. Hazel jumped in shock. She had just heard a car door close. Very slowly she peeked out the window again, hoping to see something. The window showed the lawn and nothing more.
Heart pumping, her breathing shallow, Hazel stepped away from the window. There was nothing there, but she heard something. She knew she heard something. It was clear as day. What was happening? Hazel backed out of the room, too afraid to take her eyes from the window.
Somehow she made it back to her room and hid under the covers. For the first time she was afraid that the mystery of Swansberry Hill House might hide something that she didn’t want to uncover. She managed to get to sleep, but only after the sun rose to reassure her that everything was safe and normal with the world.