House Of Whispers

FICTION Part Four: A hidden letter answers all her questions, but can Judith find happiness?

Concluding chapters of our haunting serial

“Judith, I loved your MOTHER, but she INSISTED no one ever KNOW”

Screeching into the drive, Andrew stumbled out of his car and ran to the summerhouse, but skidded to a halt. Who was that man?

“Jude!” he shouted. Where was she? She must be in the house. Why hadn’t she come out? Smoke was drifting across the lawn; she must have seen it.

He ran to the stranger who was shaking his head and fists – in rage or in fear? Andrew squinted through the smoke. His heart began to hammer. When the man turned to walk behind the summerhouse, he recognised the face.

Forpity’ssake,no,shecan’tbe… Then he saw her tear-streaked face at the window. “Jude!” he shouted above the crackling flames. “Jude, I’m coming!”

Forgetting everything but her, he ran to the wood stack by the barn, wrenched the axe from the chopping block and raced back. With a grunt he brought the blade down with all his strength. The old door shattered instantly. He ran into the inferno. “Jude! Where are you?”

No answer. At that moment he realised how much she meant to him as fear clutched his insides like a fist. He inched further into the smoke, coughing in spite of his arm over his nose. He dropped to his knees and reached out to grasp her prone body under the arms, dragging her from flames that seemed reluctant to let them leave.

After Sarah saw the doctor off, she went into the kitchen to make hot drinks. She was keeping busy so she wouldn’t think about how close they had come… she shook the thought from her head. Carefully, she carried two steaming mugs into the lounge.

“Honey and lemon – to help ease your throats.” “Thanks,” Andrew croaked. “It was lucky you were there,” she told him. “How did you know she was in the summerhouse?”

“I didn’t – I was running to the house to get her, but…” He looked uncertainly at Judith. “I dreamed Joshua told me to come to Palmerstone,” he explained. “When I got here he was at the summerhouse – that’s what drew me there. If it wasn’t for him…”

“That can’t be right.” Judith’s voice rasped through her smoke-ravaged throat. “He wanted to kill me – me and all the other Goodwin witches.” “That wasn’t the man I saw, Jude.” “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts, Andy,” she snapped.

“I don’t.” He shrugged. “Energy imprints, another dimension, maybe just my imagination, but I know what I saw.” “You said he spoke?” Sarah urged. “He said, ‘No, not again!’ over and over. What did he mean… ‘not again’?”

Sarah’s hand flew to the chain at her throat. “Could he mean Sissy…?”

Suddenly Judith sat bolt upright. “Where's the box?” she demanded.

“This?” Andrew held out a scorched but complete wooden box. “You were clutching it to your chest like your life depended on it.”

“Perhaps it does. I know you’re sure what you saw and heard, Andy, but so am I, and the man I saw was not trying to help. Maybe the answers are here.”

The doorbell sounded and Sarah went to answer it.

Soot smeared Judith’s fingers as she ran her hand over the catch and gently lifted the lid. After an initial creaking complaint, it opened. Andrew looked over her shoulder as she lifted out a small glass bottle with a tiny label, squinting to read it. “Comfrey root for sprains,” she read. She picked up another. “Devil’s Claw for pain.” “Herbal remedies?” Andrew asked. “Most likely,” said Sarah, returning. “There’s someone to see you.”

“Sorry I ran off the other day,” Nathan said. “But after what you told me I had to confront my father.” He stepped aside.

A tall, steely-haired man walked into the room, his proud bearing at odds with his anxious expression.

Judith stood. “Is it true?” she demanded. “Are you my father?” The older man simply nodded. “I knew it!” Sarah crowed. “All those years, John Meyers, and you never said!”

“Nanny, please,” Judith scolded. “He must have a reason.” He lifted inky-dark eyes to hers. “I loved your mother, Judith, but in her stubborn pride she refused to marry me. She insisted no one must ever know I’m your father. She said –” Judith silenced Sarah’s protest and she nodded at John to continue. “She said our child – you – could be in terrible danger.”

Sarah sniffed in derision. John glanced at her.

“Sissy was determined. I know it sounds ridiculous, but she said – ”

“That Joshua von Meyer was out to destroy all the Goodwin women?” Judith finished. “John, what happened between Joshua and Abigail?”

“I only know what you’ve read yourself,” he replied, indicating the box of letters on the table. “Nothing to explain how love turned to hatred.”

“There must be something,” Nathan piped up. He glanced at the other box. “What’s in that one?”

“It’s Abigail’s,” Judith answered. “Bottles of herbs. I found it under the floor of the summerhouse.” “Under the floor?” Nathan frowned. “Yes, under the foundations.” Nathan rubbed his chin. “You know, those convicted in the Salem witch trials were excommunicated and denied proper burial,” he said. “Their relatives cut them down after dark and buried them on family property.”

“Abigail is buried under the summerhouse?” Andrew asked.

“Not quite. At least, that’s not how it happened,” Judith said firmly.

She then went on to recount her dream of the previous night, so vivid she felt she had lived it herself…

Unable to believe what she was hearing, Abigail wrapped her shawl closer, but it couldn’t warm the cold dread spreading in her heart. “You said you loved me!” she cried. “I do! I do love you. But…” Joshua paced up and down, raking strong fingers through long black hair, turning pleading dark eyes on her.

“I’m not good enough for you then!” She hurled the words at him, lashing out. “It’s not like that, Abi, I swear!” “What of our child?” Her hand flew to her stomach, fingers splaying protectively over the precious mound.

Joshua’s face showed the pain of being torn in two, echoed by the night sky as a bolt of lightning slashed the darkness. His jaw twitched as he turned his back to her. “I can’t, Abi…”

Joshua dropped his face into his hands and his shoulders shook, but he said nothing.

Abigail fled, unable to face Joshua’s rejection. The storm was building, an accompanying cacophony to the turmoil in her mind. The heavens opened, rain lashed her face, obscuring tears as she ran blindly, not caring if she lived or died – but what of her child? She stopped, laying her hand on her stomach as if soothing her unborn. No – she had to live. It wasn’t just her any more.

Just sixteen, her older brother out in the world, she had already cared for her dying parents before burying them scant months ago. Well, she would just have to survive alone.

A sharp pain gripped her. It seemed the babe agreed. She had to get home. Plunging through puddles like miniature lakes, soaked by wind-driven rain, scraping her shins on branches invisible in the dark, she ran for her cottage.

By the time she got there, the pains were coming fast. Her time was months away but nothing would stop this now. She threw herbs from her bottles into a stone mortar, having to stop pounding the pestle each time pain racked her body, praying to be delivered safely.

Her prayers went unanswered. A mere hour later, she sat sobbing as she rocked her tiny lifeless babe in her arms. She cried herself to sleep as the storm blew itself out.

A last gust of wind blew shabby drapes against a guttering candle. It took hold and flared into life…

Four faces stared intently as Judith finished recalling her dream, lost in the tragedy of love lost and life wasted.

Andrew was the first to break the silence. “But it doesn’t explain why he hated her enough to want to destroy all her descendants – which she couldn’t have had anyway.”

“Family records show Abigail’s brother, Samuel Goodwin, returned to Palmerstone with a wife and children,” John countered. “Can I see those records?” Judith said. “I have them here. Although I can’t find anything to explain the bad blood between our families.”

Andrew butted in, “If we’re going to spend all day poring over documents, I could use a coffee – and I’m starving!” “I’ll make sandwiches,” Sarah offered. “I’ll get my notes,” Judith said. In her room, Judith had just found her tablet when a wave of nausea hit her so suddenly she staggered to the bed, where she clung to the drapes waiting for it to pass. Lifting her head, she gasped. It wasn’t her face in the mirror, but Joshua’s – as evil as when she’d seen him in the fire.

Good win witch! I’ ll destroy you and your child, just like your mother!

This was impossible – she’d told no one but Andrew! Gripped with fear she stumbled to the door. The handle refused to turn. She rattled it frantically.

“Jude! What’s wrong?” Andrew called from the other side of the door.

The room spun around her. She slid to the floor, a soft thud as she crumpled to the carpet. She heard a voice like Joshua’s – yet not his, as this was kind, full of urgent concern. The box… find the hidden letter. She felt the door push against her, heard Andrew’s anxious voice. “Careful! She’s right behind the door.” She felt herself carried back to the bed and struggled, reaching for consciousness, desperate to get to the box of Joshua’s letters. “Find the letter… the box…” “It’s safe in the kitchen,” Andrew said.

“I saw him again, Andy!” she cried wildly. “He wants to destroy me – and the baby!” She struggled to sit up, pushed him aside and made for the door.

“Jude!” he called after her. He caught up with her just as she grabbed at the box, her trembling fingers fumbling with the catch.

“What are you looking for?” Nathan asked anxiously.

“A hidden letter.” Impatiently she tipped out the fragile sheets.

“Look in the BOX…” the VOICE told her. “Find the hidden LETTER…”

“But we’ve been through them all several times,” Andrew said.

“It has to be here,” she muttered, pushing at the box’s metal bands. “There must be a secret compartment.” She cried out in frustration and flung the box onto the table. There was a tiny click and everyone stared at the box, holding their breath.

Tentatively, Judith lifted the lid and peered inside. A tiny patch of the red velvet lining was out of place. She reached in and pressed it. There was another click and the base sprang up. She reached into the hidden compartment and drew out several sheets of fragile paper.

Everyone exhaled in unison.

After sandwiches everyone settled with coffee, reading and speculating on the contents of the accumulated letters and documents. They gave Judith a wide berth – she was still reading the hidden pages – now and then glancing her way, trying to interpret her expressions as she read.

“This one’s dated April, 1693.” Andrew held an almost transparent leaf of paper. “Wasn’t that the time of the Salem witch hunt?”

“Yes,” Nathan answered. “The witch trials took place between February 1692 and May 1693. Twenty people were executed, all but one by hanging. Although called the Salem Witch Trials, they were conducted throughout Massachusetts, and there was mass hysteria in many towns – including Palmerstone.”

“Was Abigail accused?” Sarah asked. “Women herbalists often were.”

“Maybe that’s what Abigail wants – to have recognition as an innocent victim of the witch trials,” John suggested.

“But she wasn’t though, was she?” Andrew returned. “As good as,” Sarah argued. Everyone turned to look at Judith, who lifted her head from the letter in her hand to look at them and speak at last.

“This answers everything,” she said. “It’s Joshua’s account of the night Abigail died – but there’s a big surprise.” She caught John’s eye. “Sissy was right, only it wasn’t Joshua who was the danger. It was his older brother, Seth.”

There was a collective sharp intake of breath as she paused to let it sink in.

“He says Seth was arrogant, lazy, jealous of everything he had – including Abigail,” she went on. “Seth threatened to accuse her of witchcraft if Joshua didn’t give her up.”

“So he rejected her to protect her,” Andrew butted in.

“Because her herb lore made her vulnerable,” Sarah added.

“Exactly,” Judith agreed. “It says here that he fought with his brother that night. Seth ran off, saying if he couldn’t have her then no one would. Joshua ran after him, terrified of what he might do, but when he got there her home was already ablaze. Seth was insane, running around shouting, ‘Destroy the Goodwin witch!’ Joshua can’t be blamed for thinking Seth had set the fire. He disowned him. Seth left for Boston and was never seen again.”

“That explains why there’s no family record of him,” John said.

“So Andy was right,” Nathan said.

“Joshua did warn him about the summerhouse fire.”

“Yes,” Judith mused. “He saw Joshua – but I saw Seth.”

“They must have looked very alike,” Sarah pondered. “It would be hard to tell from that grainy old painting you found, Judy.”

“Wait, wait,” Andrew objected. “How did the fire start?” He looked from one face to the next. “Oh, come on!” he said incredulously. “You’re not saying Seth did it, surely?”

“It’s the only answer,” John said. “Seth set the fire and Joshua led you to save her. Just like Seth caused Sissy’s accident and Joshua flung Judy out of the car to safety.”

“That’s crazy! Ghosts do not start fires or cause crash cars!” But by the look on the others’ faces he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“Whatever you call it, there’s spooky stuff in this family,” Nathan said.

“That’s the operative word: family,” Judith added. “The voice I heard swore to destroy not just me, but my child.” “Child?” Sarah asked. Judith smiled at Andrew who gave an embarrassed shrug. “You might as well tell them,” he said.

“I’m pregnant,” she announced. “And all this – the dreams, the hallucinations – all started before I even knew myself.”

“Are you or the child in danger? Sissy thought…” John fretted.

“I don’t think so, not now the secret is out,” she reassured him.

“This story needs to be told,” Andrew said, ever the journalist.

“And Joshua needs to be forgiven,” Sarah murmured.

“It’s Seth who needs forgiveness,” John said. “And we need to lay this family feud to rest now.”

“Abigail and her baby, too – they’re still under the summerhouse,” Judith pointed out. “We should give them a proper burial.”

“Beside Joshua in the family plot. I can arrange that,” John said. He looked at Sarah. “It’s the least I can do.”

Judith watched as Sarah laid her hand on his arm and smiled.

It was finally over.

Judith was on the porch swing, Andrew clearing up in the garden, when Nathan’s car pulled up and he and his father got out. John stopped to speak to Andrew while Nathan approached.

“How goes it, sister?” he said, folding his long legs to sit on the porch steps. “Everything’s ready for the memorial service tomorrow.”

“I can’t say how much I appreciate your dad arranging the re-interment.” “Our dad,” he corrected. “Yes, that’ll take a bit of getting used to.” She looked across the yard. “What are they discussing so intently?”

“I’ll let them tell you,” he said, seeing them walk towards them.

“You tell, her – it’s your news,” John told Andrew.

“Your father here tells me he bought the local newspaper some years ago,” Andrew began.

“I wanted Nathan to run it, but he has other ideas,” John added.

“I just graduated and have a new legal practice to get off the ground,” Nathan explained.

“Which means the Palmerstone Gazette needs someone to run it.”

Judith’s eyes darted between the men, who seemed to be trying to outdo each other in a beaming grins contest.

Light dawned and she flung her arms around Andrew. “Andy, how wonderful! Does this mean we’re staying?”

“Of course. I belong where you are, and this is your home.” “Our home, Andy.” “This calls for a celebration,” Andrew announced, rushing into the kitchen, Nathan close behind. Judith caught John’s arm and ushered him though the house. “I want to show you the nursery.” She pushed open the door to a small room. They stepped around cans of paint on the way to a crib by the window.

“The boys are doing a good job.” John glanced at teddy bear friezes on the walls.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Andy and Nathan get along well.”

“A good omen,” he reflected. “You’ve united our families.” “No, you did – you and my mother.” “Judy, I wish you’d reconsider my offer to rebuild the summerhouse.”

“No need. There’s room in the house for an office, and I’m going to plant a memorial herb garden on the site.”

“Sissy would like that. She’d be so proud of you,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “If there’s anything I can do…” “You’ve done so much already… Dad.” His smile warmed her heart and a shaft of sunlight streamed into the window and fell across the crib. From her pocket she drew out a tattered bag. “What’s that?” “I found it in Abigail’s herb box,” she answered. “It’s a corn doll – she must have made it for her baby.” Gently, she laid it on the crib pillow and stepped back into her father’s arms. “Thank you, Abigail,” she murmured.

Through the open window she heard a whisper drift in on the breeze.

“Behappy,” it said.

Judith WATCHED Sarah lay her hand on his arm and SMILE. It was OVER