Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) (19 page)

Chapter 16

Anne’s spirit drifted near the ceiling, passing over the electrical lines and causing them to crackle in her agitation. The inescapable fiery vortex was drawing closer. The memory of the all consuming flames and terrified screams prevented her from resting. She was desperate to get the woman away from the house before it was too late…

Marianne returned to her house the next morning, walking with Kelly as far as Hair Magic and continuing the rest of the way on her own. The sky was overcast, and the air heavy with the promise of rain. Oscar met her at the door with a vocal meow, and she got him fresh food and water.

While she waited for Ruari, she got out the painting things and spent some time getting primer on the walls and trim in the hallway. Hopefully it would dry by afternoon, and she could put on a color coat in the late afternoon maybe after a library trip.

Ruari arrived around 9:30 with a pane of glass in his truck all ready to install. She damped down her more primal responses, reminding herself that he probably thought she was crazy. Instead, she greeted him politely but without the breathless awkwardness of the previous times. His warm smile faded uncertainly, and the light in his gray eyes dimmed a little. Marianne felt a twinge of regret but led him around to the side of the house where he went to work fitting the glass and putting in glazing to seal it.
 

“Nice to see you last night,” he ventured as he knelt on the walkway by the window, pressing glazing along the edges.

“Yes, did you enjoy your ice cream?” She asked neutrally.

He nodded. “How do you know Kelly and Sarah?”

“I met Kelly in line at the co-op, and she told me she worked at Hair Magic. I needed a haircut, and we ended up talking. She and Sarah have been really nice to me, since I don’t know anyone else here. I like them,” she added with a hint of defiance.

 
“Do they…is Sarah helping you with your…house problem?”

Surprised, Marianne decided she had nothing to lose. “Yes. She seems to know a lot about spirits, and I’m grateful for her help.”
 

He was quiet for a bit as he used a knife to smooth the glazing and shave off the excess. He rolled the soft putty in his hands, making a new snake shape to press along the next edge. “Most people here think Sarah is…odd, and they always have. But she’s been able to help people who have had…problems, and a few have changed their minds.”

“Sarah and Kelly told me last night your sister was not one of their fans.”

He sighed. “Yeah. She’s pretty opinionated and not too shy to share it with everyone else.”

Marianne took a deep breath and said diffidently, “What do you think?”

He was silent for a bit before smiling and saying, “I guess I’m open to it.”

“Well, that’s something,” she said with an answering smile.

“Miss Singleton! Miss Singleton are you here?” A young voice shouted from out front.

She raised her voice. “Michael, I’m back here!” Then she rose and went around the corner.

A breathless Michael stood on her walkway with his mower. “I thought I could do your lawn again before it rains. Would that be okay?”

“Sure. How’s the basketball going?”
 

He grinned. “Pretty good. Tryouts are next week. If I get in, I have to get a uniform.”

“Ah, hence the need for lawn mowing,” Marianne said perceptively.

“Well, yeah.” He grinned in embarrassment.

“No problem. It still needs it. If you have time, maybe you can start that last section in the back and at least give it a rough cut.”

“Okay.” Turning to the mower, he said admiringly, “By the way, I heard you playing earlier, and you are awesome!”

Marianne was momentarily puzzled. “I am?”

“Yeah, you’re like a professional! Mostly I like the radio, but you make the classical stuff sound really nice,” he said appreciatively.

“Uh, thank you.” Realizing whom he’d heard, she was at a loss for what to say. Instead she looked at her watch, “Let’s say you start at 9:50.”

Feeling thoughtful, she went back around the corner of the house as the mower started. Ruari was shaving the excess glazing off the next side of the frame.

He looked up and said warmly, “You play piano, too? You’re quite talented. Sounds like you have a fan.”

She looked at him and shook her head. “I haven’t played piano since I took lessons as a kid. And I was never very good.”
 

He looked confused as his hands stopped their work.

She said by way of clarification, “That’s not me playing. That’s the lady ghost playing. Based on my research, I think she’s someone who used to live here. She went to Julliard, by the way. That’s why she sounds so good.” She watched his expression go from confusion to disbelief to uncertainty.

“You’re not just being modest? Or pulling my leg?” He asked suspiciously.

She shook her head with a wry smile. “I can barely do scales and pick my way through a really easy piece with both hands.”

Marianne went back inside, leaving him to his thoughts. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. She would never have been so forthright with Geoffrey who would have scoffed her into silence. She didn’t know Ruari much at all. He was either going to like her for everything, or not.

Sighing, she pulled her research bag together, hoping she could get to the library that day. She looked out the window and watched Michael’s progress, pushing the mower over the uneven yard and guessed he would be only about an hour. It was pretty hot out and that discouraged much in the way of exercise.

There was a knock followed by Ruari pushing the door and stepping hesitantly inside. “Marianne? I’m done for now. The glaze has to cure before I can paint it.”

She invited him inside and asked about the cost of the window repair. As she wrote a check out, he glanced speculatively at the silent piano. “I’ll let you know when the dishwasher parts come in,” he said and left.

Marianne felt let down. He must think I’m such a nutcase. She recalled the memory of their first electric touch and wished she could find a way to make him think of her differently. For some reason, that brought to mind the one liaison she’d had after the divorce was finalized and shook her head. It had been a hurried, fumbling, unsatisfying experience, and she’d regretted it almost immediately. At least she’d taken precautions at the time, and by mutual agreement they’d not kept in touch. Shallow, uncommitted relationships based on physical attraction were not what she wanted, though she knew plenty of men and women who bounced from one bed to the next. She longed for a partner she loved and who loved her as deeply. Celibacy was a better way to go until she found the right guy. And it looked like she was going to be celibate for the foreseeable future.

She checked her email and phone for messages hoping for news from her history clients while she waited for Michael to finish. Her stomach cramped with a little twist of fear when she saw she had a new text from Geoffrey. “I’m on to you and will be seeing you soon.”

Even without Jim Wentwroth’s help, her ex seemed to be slowly zeroing in on her location. She shivered in spite of the heat. What am I going to do if he turns up on my doorstep? She thought despairingly.

His text made it sound like he had begun searching for her outside the city already. That he would look for her in Maple Hill was not beyond the realm of his devious brain. He knew she didn’t have many friends or relatives, so the number of places for him to pursue were limited. She didn’t think he’d be so bold as to go to her mother’s house looking for her. But he might think of Grandma Selene’s house in Vandenberg. It was hardly a secret. She’d brought him up to Vandenberg and Maple Hill a few times to share her childhood places with him. She knew Grandma would never reveal Marianne’s location, but he might somehow be encouraged to hang around either town. If he did, it was only a matter of time before he spotted her.

Why did he keep pursuing her? What was so urgent that he had to find her? She had no clues. I could spend weeks in turmoil worrying about this, she thought, and nothing might come of it. He’d love to know I’d been stewing in my own juices over him. Maybe that was part of his motivation. She took a deep breath and muttered to herself with more confidence than she really felt, “Screw you, Geoffrey. If you show up in my town, I’ll deal with you somehow. This is my life now.”

Putting her fears aside firmly, she scrolled through the rest of her messages and saw with pleasure that one of her old contacts at a New York University was interested in developing and running a history class with her on the influences of the Victorian era in America. That would play to her strengths very nicely.

She wanted to branch out the use of her history degree. Geoffrey’s settlement had been very generous, but it wouldn’t last forever. She’d toyed with the idea of developing a class, maybe for distance learners, so that she could do most of it online but didn’t have the expertise to arrange it. This would be an excellent opportunity to do just that. She fired off an email excitedly, saying she was very interested.

Her mood restored, she got a glass of lemonade for her and one for Michael and stepped outside to catch his attention. Face streaming with sweat, he brought the mower to a halt. He accepted the glass gratefully and downed it in several panting gulps.
 

“Show me what you did. I’d like to see it,” Marianne said when he’d recovered a bit. “Then I think you’d better quit before you pass out!”

Enthusiastically, he walked her around the yard and showed her everything he’d discovered. The grass had been allowed to grow for so long that it was very spiky underfoot in its newly cut state. However, she could see that new shoots were starting to emerge between the old stems and figured that the coming rain would probably help. There were brick borders around much of the edge of the yard, defining old flower and shrub beds. Marianne could envision the showcase yard it had once been and thought some trimming and judicious replanting might begin to restore it. Maybe Mrs. Thomas will be interested in consulting, she thought.
 

She paid Michael in cash for his hour of work and closed up the house before heading to the library. As she walked through town she couldn’t keep herself from scanning the busy traffic for Geoffrey’s silver Lexus or for his face in the crowd. The heaviness of the air was oppressive, and her shirt stuck to her back by the time she arrived. She earnestly hoped a thunderstorm would relieve the humidity rather than add to it. It was a relief to be inside. She set herself up at one of the solid, old tables before retrieving the spools of microfilm containing the earliest days of the Maple Hill Register at the dawn of the century.

Marianne lost herself in the early issues. The style of writing was different from the more recent sheets, more like storytelling than news. The front page was devoted to a mix of ads such as “Dr. Sugar’s Miracle Headache Remover!” and “Farm Overalls $1.20 a pair” and articles that sought to educate and amaze the readers. They seemed to be about curious or odd subjects sometimes in exotic locales like “marriage customs among the Esquimaux of Labrador” or the development of the World’s Fair Grounds. Pages two and three were devoted to more advertisements and local news such as meetings, births, deaths, and events. The paper was published only once a week. There seemed to be a dearth of farm and local events, but then she supposed farm news was found in a different outlet.

Eventually, she came across an article in late August of 1905 about a local residential fire in Schukill. The accompanying grainy black and white photo was of the smoking ruins of a house with nothing but the stone chimney still standing. She read the article with great attention.

“Fire broke out midday at the home of Samuel and Josephine Eddy. Mr. Eddy is a local businessman and was at his office at the time. Mrs. Eddy was assisting at a church function at the time. Their two children, Anne, age 5, and Samuel Jr., age 3, were at home being cared for by Miss Abigail Leventhal, age 14. It is firmly believed after speaking with Miss Leventhal that the fire began accidentally when one of the irons was left on a sheet on the kitchen table. It has been a particularly dry summer, and the wooden frame house and its contents were tinder dry. Neighbors came immediately when they heard the cries and endeavored to put the fire out with a bucket brigade from the well. Neighbors responded to Anne’s cries that her little brother was still inside, and one particularly brave fellow, Tom Kenny, ventured inside the blazing structure to rescue the boy. As he carried Samuel outside, both were overcome by smoke. The boy could not be revived and died at the scene, but Mr. Kenny is recovering. Mr. and Mrs. Eddy arrived as soon as they could. Miss Leventhal was hysterical and is recovering at home. The Eddy family home and belongings were destroyed. They are staying with relatives until arrangements can be made. Samuel Junior’s funeral service will be on Sunday at the Episcopal Church. He will be buried in the Maple Hill Community Cemetery.”

Shocked, Marianne reread the article several times and felt sad for Anne and her family. When fires happened today, she always imagined valiant firefighters and EMTs saving the family and putting out the fire in time. Yes, there were still deaths and loss of possessions but somehow not like this. They probably had to start all over again. And poor little Anne must have been profoundly affected for the rest of her life. That would certainly explain the fire dreams.

Marianne swallowed a lump in her own throat and sat back in her chair. Her imagination was entirely too vivid, she thought. Well, at least the paper hadn’t said the little boy had burned to death; that would have been too horrible. And brave Mr. Kenny had survived presumably. She wondered what had happened to Miss Abigail Leventhal who had been hysterical at the fire. She must have been traumatized as well.

Marianne knew from previous research that life in the early 1900s was centered on drudgery for women. Well-to-do women had servants to do all the cooking, cleaning, and laundering, but if you were not well off or in the budding middle class, you got to do it all yourself—or hired a teenager who was all but an indentured servant. There was a reason time-saving machines had been so successful. Mrs. Eddy must have hired Abigail as her help around the house, leaving her free to be active in the church or elsewhere in the community, at least part time.