. . .
Mary-Love and Sister were caught over at the new house where they were measuring the back parlor windows for curtains. Since the house had been completed, Mary-Love’s strategy had changed. She had no intention of allowing Oscar to leave her of his own volition, even when that meant continuing to share a house with Elinor. Now that Genevieve was dead, all Mary-Love’s antagonism was turned toward her daughter-in-law. The fact that she was able to keep Oscar by her when it was inconvenient and onerous for Oscar to remain, and when there was a large house next door empty and waiting, only showed Elinor that Mary-Love’s hold over Oscar was much stronger than her own. Mary-Love had declared that she could not allow them to take possession until she was herself satisfied. And satisfaction, Mary-Love contentedly mused to herself, was a thing that might be put off indefinitely. The principal rooms had long been furnished, and now sheets protected these pieces from dust. The place was dark and silent, for the water and electricity had not yet been turned on.
On all four sides of the house, rainwater dropped in a heavy curtain from the high roof, digging neat troughs next to the new flower beds Bray had put in.
“Sister,” said Mary-Love, looking apprehensively at the density of water through which they’d have to pass to get home, “do you have something to cover your head?”
“Let’s just wait here till it’s over,” Sister suggested. “It cain’t keep up long like this.”
Mary-Love acquiesced, for it hardly seemed worth the soaking to return home without cover. The two women finished their measuring, and, after drawing back and carefully folding the sheets which had covered it, seated themselves on the new sofa in the front parlor. Sister opened the draperies here, hung only the week before, and they watched for some sign of slackening off of the downpour.
The sound of the rain was hypnotic, and though it was only October the air was somehow chill. The house, which had been built to let in lots of light and air, seemed gloomy, dark, and inhospitable.
“Mama,” said Sister, “maybe we should light a fire...”
“Go ahead,” said Mary-Love. “Have you got any matches? Have you got kindling? Have you got a scuttle of coal?”
“No,” said Sister.
“Well, then, go right ahead,” said Mary-Love, hugging herself tighter.
Almost imperceptibly, during this small exchange, the rain had diminished.
Sister lifted her chin suddenly. “Mama, you hear something?”
“I hear the rain.”
“I mean something in the house,” Sister whispered. “I hear something in the house.”
“I don’t hear anything. You hear the rain splashing on the porch, that’s what you hear.”
“Mama, no, I heard something else.”
Something dropped to the floor in the room directly above them.
“See!” cried Sister, and jumped nearer her mother on the sofa. “There’s somebody up there.”
“No, there’s not!” said Mary-Love firmly, but somehow without complete conviction.
They sat silent, listening. The rain continued to slacken, but it was very far from stopping.
Faintly, they heard a metallic jangle, soft and distant. What was it like? It was like hearing Grace opening her piggy bank on the bed in the next room.
Mary-Love rose, but Sister tried to pull her back.
“Sister,” said her mother sternly, “there is nobody in this house. A squirrel got in. Or maybe a bat. Or the water is leaking through the new roof. Do you know what that roof cost me? I am going upstairs and see and you are coming with me.”
Sister dared not refuse. There was a louder jangle. Mary-Love went out into the hall and started up the stairs. Sister followed, pinching a pleat in the back of Mary-Love’s skirt. “It came from that front bedroom,” said Mary-Love.
They paused on the landing and looked up to the second-floor hallway. All the doors were shut and the hallway itself was dark and dim. At the end, a door inset with squares of stained glass opened onto a narrow porch. The glass glowed richly in vermilion and cobalt and chartreuse, but the light wasn’t strong enough to illuminate the dark carpet on the floor.
There was another jangle.
Sister shuddered and grabbed her mother’s arm.
“Mama, that’s not a bat!”
Mary-Love went resolutely up the stairs. She didn’t hesitate, but advanced directly to the end of the hallway, stepping loudly on the carpeted floor in order to give warning to whatever was inside that front room. At the end of the hall she veered suddenly to the left and knocked on the wall next to the door; then she knocked on the door itself.
At first there was silence within, then a soft thump, and almost immediately after, another jangle.
Sister, who had dragged along behind, caught her breath in gasps. “Oh, Mama,” she pleaded in a whisper, “don’t open that door.”
Mary-Love turned the knob and pushed open the door of the front room. It slowly swung wide to reveal a square dark chamber with thick curtains over the windows. The suite of furniture here had been the first purchased for the house, and it had lain under sheets longer than any other. The room was painted a dark green. Mary-Love and Sister could see nothing but the outlines of the walnut bed, the dresser, the dresser mirror, the chifforobe, and the chest of drawers. The two women stood absolutely still outside the door listening for another jangle, another thump, watching for some movement in the darkened room.
Something flashed in the corner of the ceiling directly above the chifforobe. Immediately thereafter there was a loud thump. Sister cried out.
“What was it?” demanded Mary-Love, who had been looking in another direction.
“Something on the ceiling! It was on the ceiling!”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know! Mama, pull that door closed and let’s get out of here.”
“We cain’t see anything with those curtains closed. Sister, go pull those draperies aside.”
“Mama! I’m not going in there! There’s something in there!”
“It’s a bat,” said Mary-Love, “and I’ll have to kill it. But I have to be able to see it first.”
“Bats don’t shine!”
There was another flash, immediately followed by a jangle.
Sister screamed, whirled around, and ran down the hallway.
Mary-Love looked after her daughter for a moment, then walked resolutely across the room to pull open the draperies. “Sister!” she called as she jerked aside the fabric. She turned around but just as she did so, out of the corner of her eye she saw another flash up near the ceiling, and then felt something heavy and sharp strike the crown of her head. She heard a thud as it hit the floor.
Sister appeared timorously in the doorway. Mary-Love stooped and picked up whatever it was that had struck her.
“Mama, what is it?” asked Sister fearfully.
Mary-Love held it up in the light. “It’s a sapphire ring,” she said. Then after a moment she grimly added, “Your grandmama wore this ring on the third finger of her right hand.”
Sister screamed and pointed up into the corner of the room. Right above the chifforobe, protruding from the plaster of the ceiling, was a narrow glinting band of jewels. It looked as though it were being squeezed out, as potatoes might be extruded through a ricer. The bracelet dangled there an instant, then dropped with a little clatter and jangle onto the top of the chifforobe. Mary-Love went over and picked it up. The bracelet was made up of seven rubies, each surrounded by small round white diamonds. “Elvennia wore this to my wedding,” said Mary-Love. Also on top of the chifforobe was a ring mounted with three quite good-sized diamonds.
“Mama,” whispered Sister, pointing at the bed.
There, on top of the protective sheet, lay a small jumble of jewelry.
“Mama,” said Sister, “this stuff is coming through the ceiling!”
“Sister, shhh!” With an unhappy puzzled brow, Mary-Love squeezed the bracelet and two rings in her hand until s
he felt the facets of the jewels pressing into her flesh. “Sister,” she whispered, “these are all the things that James buried in Genevieve’s coffin.”
Sister bit her lip and began to back toward the door.
“Mama,” she said, almost in tears, “how did it get here, how...”
A brooch of rubies and emeralds dropped from the ceiling onto the center of the bed, adding to the pile there.
It was too much even for Mary-Love. “Get out, get out, get out!” she cried and waved Sister toward the door. Sister turned to run.
The door slammed shut.
Two more rings were flung out of the ceiling and hit Sister on the back of her head. She dropped to her knees and cried out in fear.
Mary-Love stumbled past her daughter to the door and tried to jerk it open. The knob rattled in her hands. The door was locked.
“Mama!” Sister screamed. “It’s locked!”
“No, it’s not!” cried Mary-Love. “No, it’s not, it’s just stuck.”
Sister looked up. Another bracelet popped out from the ceiling, this one from a different place than before, and after a dangling moment it fell draped over the edge of the dresser mirror.
Mary-Love reached down and drew her daughter up. Sister whimpered.
Not knowing what else to do, and more bewildered than she had ever been in her life, Mary-Love pulled open the door of the closet in that room. It was a small door, smaller than any other door in the house, and Mary-Love couldn’t remember why it had been constructed so much out of proportion. It swung open. The closet was empty except for a solitary black dress on a hanger. Pinned to the lapel was a black veil, that even as Mary-Love stared at it began to drip a dark mixture of blood and rainwater onto the floor of the closet.
She slammed the closet door shut.
Sister clung to her mother still. Mary-Love pushed her away and went back to the hallway door. Perhaps it had been only stuck, swollen with the damp and caught in the jamb. She pulled hard at the knob. Nothing. Mary-Love drew back, biting her lips to keep from crying out in frustration and fear.
The door swung open.
Elinor Caskey stood there in the hallway. She was wearing a green dress that had belonged to Genevieve and the smallest of the three ropes of Genevieve’s black pearls clasped around her neck.
“Doors get stuck in wet weather,” said Elinor.
Sister, gasping, cried out, “Oh, Elinor, Mama and I were so scared! We thought that somebody had locked us in!”
“We did not,” said Mary-Love stiffly, beginning to recover a bit from her fright, and now very much interested in the pearls around Elinor’s neck. “We just thought that the door had stuck...like you said.”
Sister glanced at her mother, but did not contradict her. “But why are you here? Did you hear us call? Is that why you came over?”
“No,” said Elinor with a little smile, “I came over for a different reason. I had a little bit of news.”
“What is it?” said Mary-Love quickly.
“Oh, Elinor, cain’t it wait for a few minutes? I want to get home!” cried Sister.
“Yes,” said Elinor, “it can wait. But I think we probably ought to gather up all these things.” She went past Mary-Love and Sister to the bed and began to slip the jewels into the pockets of her dress. Mary-Love rushed over and filled her pockets, too.
Chapter 11
Elinor’s News
Later that afternoon, when the rain had diminished to just a drip from awnings over the windows, Sister recovered behind the closed door of her room and Mary-Love and Elinor calmly deliberated about Genevieve’s recovered jewelry. Strangely enough, no mention was made by either woman of the inexplicable manner of the return of the gems, except by inference. It was decided right off that James could never be allowed to see them en masse, for he would be certain to recognize his mother’s and his wife’s jewelry. Mary-Love would keep the three rings that she liked best, she would hold out two sapphire and diamond bracelets for Sister, and the remainder would be put aside in a safety-deposit box in Mobile for Grace’s majority. “By then,” said Mary-Love, “James may be dead, or he may have lost his memory and we won’t have a problem about giving things to Grace. I suppose,” she went on delicately, “that you ought to keep the pearls, Elinor.”
“I suppose I will,” Elinor replied.
Of all the jewelry that had been buried in Genevieve’s casket, only the black pearls had not materialized from the ceiling of the upper room of the new house, and even in her great fear and greater wonder, Mary-Love’s iron-trap mind had closed on that fact. But she had seen one strand of the pearls around Elinor’s neck, and she more than suspected that the other two strands were in Elinor’s possession. Mary-Love of course had wanted those pearls for herself—they were the most valuable of all, as well as the most beautiful and useful of the jewels—but Mary-Love, even as she conveniently suppressed thoughts about the inexplicable manner of the return of the jewels, yet credited the fact of their recovery somehow to Elinor. And if Elinor had brought the jewels—Sister, don’t ask how, it won’t do for us to know—why then, Elinor ought to have her pick of the lot.
After this conference, Mary-Love never mentioned what she had seen in the house next door. She had no wish to dig out its meaning. When Sister came to her and in whispers demanded to know what it was all about and wanted five reasons why that house should not be burned to the ground this very minute, Mary-Love said only, “Sister, we got Elvennia’s things back and that’s all I care about. But I tell you what I’m gone do, I’m gone send Bray over there first thing tomorrow with a broom and tell him to kill all those bats that are up there in that room.”
“Bats!” cried Sister, so angered by her mother’s stubborn obtuseness that she couldn’t bring herself to speak another civil word and walked right out of the room.
Though Mary-Love perhaps convinced herself that there were bats in the front bedroom of the house next door, she did not return to make certain that all the jewelry had been gathered up, or to see if it had really been blood dripping from the dress and veil hanging in the closet.
. . .
That evening, after supper, the three women went out and sat on the side porch, watched the moon rise, and waited for Oscar to return from the town council meeting.
“Elinor!” blurted Sister suddenly. “This afternoon you said you had some news, but you never told us what it was. I forgot all about it.”
“I did too,” said Mary-Love. It was apparent she had not, but had only been reluctant to seem interested or curious.
“I went to see Dr. Benquith this afternoon. It looks as if I’m pregnant,” said Elinor calmly.
Mary-Love was for once unrestrained. She got up from the swing and went over and hugged Elinor close. Sister wasn’t far behind.
“Oh, Elinor!” cried Mary-Love. “You have just made me a happy woman! You are gone give me a grandchild!”
“Go tell James,” Sister urged. “I see his lights are on. James will be so happy!”
“No,” said Elinor, “I have to tell Oscar first.”
“You told us,” argued Sister.
“That’s different,” said Mary-Love. “You and I are women. James is a man. Elinor is right. James has no business finding out about it before Oscar.”
“Could you tell Grace? She’s a girl.”
Mary-Love shook her head. “Sister, I am sometimes surprised at what you do not know. Women find things out first, then they tell the men—otherwise the men wouldn’t find out anything—then the servants find out, and the children last of all. And sometimes children don’t ever find things out, even after they’ve grown up. There are secrets that die. Sister, I shouldn’t have to be telling you any of this. These are things you should know!”
“Well, I don’t,” said Sister sullenly. “I guess that’s why I’m never gone get married.”
“Don’t say that,” said Mary-Love with some severity. “When you get ready...”
Oscar’s automobile pul
led up before the house.
“You want us to go inside?” Mary-Love whispered, but Elinor shook her head no.
“All I’m going to do is tell him,” said Elinor easily. “There’s no reason for you not to be here.”
Oscar came up onto the front porch and was about to go inside the house, but Elinor called, “Oscar, we’re out here!”
Oscar came around. “Hey y’all,” he said, “sure is a pretty night. All the clouds cleared away.”
“Oscar,” said Elinor without preamble, “I’m going to have a baby.”
Oscar stood stock-still, then he grinned. “Elinor, I’m so happy. But what I want to know is, is it gone be a boy or a girl?”
“You’ll take whatever you get,” said Mary-Love.
“Which do you want?” asked Sister.
“I want a girl,” said Oscar, sitting down and putting his arm around his wife’s shoulder.
“Well, Oscar, you are in luck today, because that’s what it’s going to be.” Elinor stated this not as a matter of belief or conjecture, but rather as if it had been a matter of choice, just as she might have said, I’m going to buy a pink dress, rather than I’m going to get a blue one.
“How you know?” demanded Sister, who that day had come to feel that there was entirely too much about life she did not understand.
“Shhh!” said Mary-Love. “I think it’ll be wonderful to have a little girl baby in the house!”
Elinor’s announcement completely overshadowed the little agenda of news that Oscar brought with him from the town council meeting, and they didn’t hear it until the next morning at breakfast. A third man was about to be added to the town police force; the Palafox Street merchants had agreed to bear half the expense of new concrete sidewalks; and finally, an engineer from Montgomery, whose name was Early Haskew, had put up at the Osceola the previous afternoon, had introduced himself to the town council (“a real nice man, and good looking,” remarked Oscar, hardly satisfying his mother’s desire for a detailed description), and would today begin his survey of Perdido.