Darkling (5 page)

He shook his head, his china gaze riveted into mine. “No. It wasn't Margo. She wore a white dress. She was really sad, and I think she was lost. I think she belongs here, at Belle Fleur.”

Fear prickled along my arms and neck. “Annie's story has upset us both. Our imaginations are excited. Tomorrow, we'll look for evidence of this mysterious girl. I suspect it's a trick of the light or a very active imagination. We'll get Annie to help us look.” I also intended to tell her that she was to share no more ghost stories. Donald was too impressionable.

“She already knows someone was there,” Donald said. “She saw her too but she won't admit it.”

6

Despite the upsets of the night, Donald woke with a voracious appetite and a sunny smile. He was at the breakfast table with Berta when I went downstairs, lesson plans in hand. One joy of private tutoring was the freedom to take our classroom outside. I didn't doubt Annie's verbal or language skills, but I wanted to test her knowledge of biology. The woods and swamp around Belle Fleur were the perfect place to do so—and I could also warn her of the natural dangers. Alligators and poisonous snakes of the deadly moccasin family were abundant during the summer. Huge timber rattlers slithered among the pines further inland. There were also wonderful king, black, garter, and many other “helpful” reptiles. Knowing the difference could mean life or death.

I took my place at the kitchen table where breakfast was always served. This was one meal Berta insisted that she serve “all of her children.”

“Mama made blueberry pancakes. I picked the last of the berries this morning.” Donald crammed a huge forkful into his mouth. He loved the natural life—picking berries, fishing, boy things. Sometimes, when he rode Cogar with Erin, his natural grace and ease with creatures large and small made me wonder where in life he would find his true path. He was a child out of time, drawn to activities and thoughts from the first half of the century, not the latter.

I poured maple syrup over the short stack Berta put in front of me. Bob had eaten and gone to his office in Mobile. He had a new client interested in renovating the old Bienville Hotel in downtown Mobile. The port city, as Mobile was known, was one of the oldest settlements along the Gulf Coast. Influences of early French and Spanish settlers made the downtown area a delight for architectural renovators like Bob. His passion was preservation, and the Bienville offered a chance for him to show his stuff in a city with a growing tourist industry.

Once the social center of the port city on Mobile Bay, the Bienville had withstood the ravages of the War Between the States and Yankee occupation, but time and neglect had almost finished the old girl off. Bob saw great potential and hoped it would be the project that would garner national attention and bring in backers to fund the renovation of the Paradise Inn.

“Erin is riding.” Berta rolled her eyes. “She'd rather ride than eat.”

“It's good for her. She has talent.” I knew Berta was afraid of Cogar, a large Connemara-cross with a strong will and a talent for jumping anything in front of him. She also viewed the horse as a bribe to get Erin to love Alabama.

“I'd prefer a violinist or maybe an opera singer to an equestrian.”

Berta was teasing, but I understood. Violins didn't weigh fourteen hundred pounds and buck. “She isn't afraid. Fear is the most dangerous thing about riding. Don't ever let her know how much it scares you, Berta.” I glanced around the kitchen. “Where are Margo and Annie?”

“Margo is asleep. Annie must have gotten up at the crack of dawn. She left a note saying she was going to explore and would be back by seven-thirty.”

Just as the clock in the hallway struck the half-hour, Annie appeared in the doorway. I hadn't heard her footsteps in the hall.

“Sorry I startled you, Mimi. I went out to check around the marsh grass by the old hotel.” She looked at Donald. “Not a trace of a ghost anywhere.” Her hand rumpled his hair. “Am I too late for breakfast?”

She wore jeans, sneakers, and a cotton shirt in stripes of primary colors. It was an exceptionally bright outfit, something that surprised me. I'd expected a more demure palette.

“Not a bit.” Berta lifted pancakes hot from the skillet and put them on a plate in front of her. She tore into them as if she hadn't eaten in at least a week.

Berta and I smiled over the top of her head. Nothing is more gratifying to a cook than someone who enjoys food.

Margo entered the room dragging a dark cloud behind her. She took a seat at the table and waved away the pancakes. She wasn't a cruel girl, but she was sixteen, a time when independence had to be won no matter the cost. She hadn't yet realized she didn't have to kick free of Berta and Bob. They were willing to let her go, because they understood it was their job. They required only that she engage her brain and keep herself safe so they could drop the reins with some degree of confidence that she wouldn't harm herself.

“Juice?” Berta asked, ignoring Margo's frown.

“Just coffee.”

I began to clear the table. “Today we're going over to Paradise Inn. We'll identify some plants and discuss the local ecosystem.”

“I'm not going. It's too hot. I hate sweating and the mosquitoes are as big as wrens.”

Margo dared me to contradict her, but I didn't have to open my mouth. Berta loved her children, but she brooked no impertinence.

“Yes, Margo. You
will
go and you
will
be polite, courteous, and obedient. If I hear otherwise, you won't drive for two months.” Berta stacked the plates on the table. “Annie, would you please take the garbage outside?”

When the door closed on Annie, Berta rounded on Margo. Before she could say anything, Margo lashed out.

“Why are you so mean to me?” Margo pushed back so hard, her chair flipped over when she stood. “Everyone else is perfect, especially Annie. I'm the one who's always at fault. Why is that, Mother?” She didn't wait for an answer. “We've been to the hotel a hundred times. This is for Annie's benefit, isn't it, Mimi?”

Corporal punishment wasn't a part of the Henderson family, but I itched to slap her face. Margo had no idea how lucky she was, how much I'd give to be loved and coddled as she was. “I want to make sure Annie understands the dangers of the snakes and alligators. This is a dangerous place for someone who isn't aware.”

“It wouldn't hurt my feelings if an alligator ate her,” Margo said. “The entire house has turned upside down to make Annie feel good. What about me?” She turned to Berta. “What about your real children? We don't count for much anymore since you have Perfect Annie and Mimi the Do-Gooder.”

Berta wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Margo, put on your boots and go to the front porch, where you'll wait for Mimi and the other children. Not another word. I'll discuss with your father an appropriate punishment for your behavior. You will learn to control your emotions or you will become a social recluse.”

Berta had struck a deathblow. Margo had hard-to-get tickets to the Black Oak Arkansas concert in Biloxi. If Berta grounded her, she would miss out on an event she'd planned for weeks. She paled and left the room. The front door shut softly.

“She must learn to think before she speaks,” Berta said. “Yes, she's an emotional teen, but in two years she'll be away in college, far from my ability to help her. She has to start using her head.”

I couldn't argue with that logic and didn't want to. “I'll pick up Erin when we pass the stables. I'm ready to start the lessons.”

“I'm going into town for supplies. I thought I'd let Margo and Annie prepare dinner tonight.”

I swallowed. It wasn't the game plan I'd have chosen, but Berta was the boss.

“I've been thinking, Mimi. The children and I really dragged our feet when Bob moved us here. Listening to Annie's stories about the old hotel made me realize that we don't really know the history of our home or the hotel. I'm going to stop by the library and see if there are any books on Coden. It might be a good project for the children. Annie can learn the truth about Belle Fleur and the Paradise Inn along with the children. Put that ghost story stuff to bed. I know Annie doesn't mean any harm, but I don't like to see Donald so scared.”

“That's an excellent idea.” I was instantly caught up in the potential of the project. While Cora had told me many tales about Coden and the landmarks here, I'd never actually thought to explore the facts through research. In high school, we'd studied Alabama history, but Coden had hardly gotten a mention. “We'll battle the ghost stories with facts. It's a wonderful lesson in combating superstitions with knowledge.”

Berta's fingers combed through my dark hair. “You're an unexpected blessing, Mimi. We were so lucky when we ran into Cora and she told us you were graduating as a teacher. I don't think I could have found anyone better.”

Her praise made me dizzy. “Learning can be exciting. If I teach the children that, they'll never lack for an education.”

“You make lessons fun. That's a gift. No matter where you end up teaching after these children are grown, you'll be a star.”

“Thank you, Berta.” It was a big compliment, but it also rattled me. I'd never thought that the Henderson children would grow up and my services wouldn't be necessary—that I would become their past. Of course it was the natural course of life, but it still made me sad.

“Hey, did I upset you?” Berta asked.

“Of course not. I just stepped into the future for a moment. It was a little disconcerting.”

“Well, soon enough you'll be immersed in the past. I'll get all the books I can find at the library.”

7

“Tell us about the gardens, Mimi.” Erin grabbed my hand and held it as we walked beneath the live oaks that formed a canopy over the path. I'd decided to head for the natural springs, an area filled with plant and aquatic life. The swamp lilies, an amazing plant with white blossoms that smelled of heaven, were in bloom. The marshy land was also a primo location to find the native Alabama birds, and to that end I'd brought along my binoculars. It was also the habitat for moccasins, the most deadly of Alabama's snakes. There were rattlers aplenty, but they at least gave a distinctive rattle. The cottonmouths and copperheads were sneaky. They hid and then struck without warning.

“One reason Henri was drawn to Coden was the climate and the vast assortment of plants that grow here. We get more rain than any other place in the United States. While it makes humidity a problem, it's great for plants.”

“I hate it here.” Margo lifted her hair off her neck. “My hair is already starting to frizz and we haven't gotten out of the yard.”

I ignored Margo's whining. “The swamp lilies, or Cahaba lilies as they're also known, were going to be one of the premier perfume plants of the Desmarais family's plan to create exotic and original scents.” I lectured as we walked.

I threw a glance at Annie. This was a continuation of a history lesson started in the early summer, and I wondered if she might be lost. She gave me a smile that said she was willing to catch up as I told it.

“Henri Desmarais was the man who built our house and the Paradise Inn,” Donald told Annie.

“Suck up.” Margo reached out to pinch her brother but thought better of it when she saw I was looking.

“You're a bitch, Margo.” Erin was angry. “Why do you have to act so awful to Annie?”

“Why do you have to act so awful?” Margo mocked her.

I grabbed Margo's arm in a none-too-gentle grip. “Stop it. Now.”

She wanted to defy me, but she didn't. I was only five years her senior, but I was her teacher and I had the authority of her parents behind me. She broke free of me but kept her mouth shut.

I caught Erin's shoulder. “And your language is unacceptable.”

“Did the Desmarais family ever make money on the perfume?” Annie stepped smoothly into the breach.

“The family suffered much tragedy, which is part of the local legend of Belle Fleur and the Paradise Inn, but they did create two original scents. I never thought to ask if they actually made a profit.” That was a point we could look up in the library books.

“Tell Annie about the perfumes,” Erin said. “I wish I could smell them.”

“One perfume, named Belle Fleur for the house, resembled a blend of wild white jasmine and magnolias and was said to be the favorite of the confederate officers.” I loved this part of Belle Fleur's legend.

“Chloe Desmarais, the young daughter of Henri and Sigourney, was the first to wear it, and Cora said that it could cast a spell on a man. Chloe had many suitors, from what I understand.” It was Annie who spoke, and I turned to her in amazement.

“How did you know that?”

“When Cora said she was bringing me to Coden and the family lived at Belle Fleur, I went to the main library on Government Street and looked up the Desmarais family. In 1860, the newly created scent, Belle Fleur, was produced and had begun shipping to Northern markets as well as the South. The war, though, ruined the family perfume business.”

“That's remarkable, Annie.” She was so matter-of-fact with her eager knowledge.

“What? That I would look up the history of the place I was going to live?” She made it sound so logical, but it struck me as strange.

“It's very … mature.”

“Belle Fleur is
my
home, and I don't give a damn what kind of perfumes they made here two hundred years ago. Knowing about Belle Fleur won't make it your real home, Annie. Can we get this field trip over with?” Margo wiped sweat from her forehead. “I have a date tonight and I don't want to have to reset my hair. If we fart around here all morning, I'll have to wash and roll it.”

“Your wish is my command.” I gave her a low bow. “Lead on.”