Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past Read online

  “Things are a little different now.”

  “Yes, this time there are no girls to torture, except for me.”

  Sister Callahan had an amazing talent for minding everybody else’s business. Last time Sister Callahan had visited, she made sure that the girls attended their classes on time, behaved perfectly, and went to bed ten minutes before the appointed time.

  “Besides,” Granny interrupted my unpleasant thoughts, “it’s not our choice.”

  “When will they arrive?”

  “I’m not sure. They are still working out some small details.”

  “How long are they staying for?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  “As long as they’d like, of course, although I believe that some of the nuns in the group will be relocated to convents throughout the United States.”

  “Let’s hope Sister Callahan is not one of them, and she will return to England…the sooner the better.”

  “Now, Florence—there is nothing to fuss over—Sister Callahan can be lots of fun, too. And she means well.”

  “Does Fr. Thompson know about this?” During her last visit, Sister Callahan had taken an unusual liking to the local priest, which wasn’t reciprocated. Surely the day she returned to England had been one of the happiest days of his life.

  Granny stood up, placed the empty teacups in the sink, kissed me on the cheek, and left without answering. I stayed behind, chin resting on my hand, thinking about Sister Callahan, the events of the day, and what tomorrow might hold.

  I ran through the dense forest, desperately searching for something. What I sought eluded me, but I knew it would save my life. I had no time, for the night was closing in. A great force, like a mighty wind, lifted me off the ground and threw me through the air. I heard the horrific sound of my spine snapping against a tree. I was filled with fear as I realized my body was paralyzed, and I was all alone.

  “Florence, my lady, I’m here.” A voice, tantalizingly familiar, and then blue eyes, searing into my soul. I knew those eyes, but the face was young, vital, not the face of the man I had met yesterday. I felt his arms encircle me and a deep tenderness welled up in me, driving away my fear. Although I was helpless to move, there was no panic, just a sense that I was home after a long journey. “Florence, there’s something I must tell you. Whatever you do, don’t trust…” His voice faded. I awoke with a start to find the dawning of the new day.

  The daylight had barely spread over Geneva when I started my day. Not minding the declining temperature of the water, I stayed in the bathtub longer than I had expected. I missed the girls that had been my fellow students, but there was an upside to their absence—I now had the upstairs bathroom all to myself; no more enforced schedules, banging on the door, or having to take all my personal items back to my room. Yes, I did like the luxury of my own space.

  What would I encounter at Oak’s Place on my first day of work? Would I come across Mr. Sterling again? According to what Mrs. White had said, probably not, but I would definitely have plenty of time to spend with her. I remembered her sullen gaze and suddenly the tub water felt much colder. Then I thought about Mr. Vines, his firm grip, and sarcastic laugh and the water was now freezing. Reaching for my towel, I hurried to wrap it around my body.

  I sighed, running my fingers through the clothing hanging in the old armoire. There wasn’t much and what there was, was well worn. I would have to use whatever money I could spare from my first paycheck on something nicer to wear. The brown dress, one of the warmer pieces I owned, won my attention. Soon I was ready to embrace my new routine.

  Granny was cleaning the window near the common room when I crossed the hall towards the staircase. “Good morning child—how did you sleep last night?” she asked, calling for my attention.

  I approached her and when I looked into her eyes, my conscience instantly reproved me for not having told her the whole truth about my visit to Oak’s Place. The part that stung the most was Mr. Sterling’s interest about my father. Granny would be very curious if she knew how he had questioned me. I wouldn’t worry her with any of it. I needed the job and Mr. Sterling and his employees were used to a different life style and customs, that was all, nothing more, nothing less—I would keep telling myself that.

  “I had a good night, thank you, Granny.” I felt guilty again…I wouldn’t tell her about the dream.

  “You took a long bath,” she noted, and thankfully, turned her gaze from me to the window. “It’s a beautiful day.”

  “I’m happy it’s not raining. I hope it stays that way.”

  “There are some scattered clouds, but I don’t think it will rain any time soon.”

  “I hope you are right. Yesterday was very gloomy.”

  “I hope it was gloomy because of the weather and not because of your visit to that house.” She faced me and her inquiring eyes reached my very soul. At once, I understood that she had been turning things in her head—not fully convinced yet about Oak’s Place.

  “Are you worried about it again?”

  “I’m a little unsettled, that’s all. Aren’t you?” Granny had an exactness with words that was terrifying—she knew how to get to me.

  “No, not really.”

  “Seriously child—how can you not be? If anything else, you should be a little nervous about working outside these walls for the first time.”

  I readjusted the strap of my handbag on my shoulder and said what she wanted to hear. “Yes, I’m a little nervous, but I suppose anybody would be on their first day of work.”

  A smile crossed her eyes. “I’m glad that’s the case—that’s normal behavior.”

  “I’ll feel better once I get there and start working.”

  “Florence, remember what I said yesterday.” She looked at me over the top of her spectacles.

  “What part?”

  “If anything seems out of the ordinary, you are to immediately renounce the job.”

  “Yes, Granny, I will remember that.” I glanced at my watch, it was still early—I wanted to leave.

  “I don’t even trust my own shadow—” She started towards the stairs holding on to my arm.

  “Oh no,” I thought. She would have breakfast with me…more preaching coming my way. It wasn’t that I didn’t care for her counsel, it was that I had had enough about the topic already.

  “You can’t fight a war if you don’t know who your enemies are,” said Granny, as we descended the first steps.

  “Granny, you worry too much. I know that there are rumors, but that’s all they are, rumors.”

  “What if they are true? What if they are up to no good? You know when you see lightning and hear thunder that a storm is near.”

  “All right—all right. I promise I will be careful. Can we have breakfast now, in peace? There is no need to make trouble where there is none.”

  She smiled. “Of course, you need to start your day with a good breakfast, and now that I have warned you again and you’ve listened, I will only say this…” I feared what would come next but was pleasantly surprised. “I think everything will go well today. You are absolutely right, there is no need to fret.”

  Breakfast was a good experience after all, and I left the monastery with plenty of time to enjoy a relaxing drive.

  As I pulled up to Oak’s Place, I reexamined the building in the clearer light of day. The estate looked exactly the way I had left it yesterday, but perhaps a little less intimidating. If that was because I had awoken feeling deeply refreshed in spite of the strange dream, or because Granny was a bit more optimistic about my job, or just because there was more sunlight today, I didn’t know. I just knew that I felt ready to conquer the world, or at least my little corner of it.

  Some of my newfound confidence tucked tail when Mrs. White greeted me abruptly at the door. “Leave your handbag in your office and follow me,” she instructed. “I want you to meet the rest of the household staff. It won’t take long.”

  We walked to the end of the main hall, which woun
d to the right before turning into the kitchen at the back of the house. On the far end of the kitchen, there were two sets of double doors leading to the back gardens. They were open, allowing the crisp morning air to freely enter. The tall doors were protected from the outside elements by a long gallery, the roof of which was supported by round stone columns.

  We approached the large sink where a woman was washing dishes. “This is Zaira, the house cook,” said Mrs. White. Zaira dried her hands on the black apron securely wrapped around her thin waist.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Miss…?”

  “Contini, Florence Contini.” I held out my hand to her, admiring her curly, red hair, carefully tucked behind her ears. But at once I noted that what dominated her presence were her expressive hazel eyes and her beautiful smile.

  “Oh yes, yes, we spoke on the phone yesterday.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” I remembered how polite she had been when I called about the ad.

  “I’m glad you’ll be working here. It will be nice having a connection in town. Perhaps you’ll be so kind as to show me around sometime.” It sounded like a plea for help. I sympathized with her; I couldn’t conceive the idea of being tethered at Oak’s Place with the grim Mrs. White and the dubious Mr. Vines for company.

  “Very well then, enough talking,” Mrs. White interrupted. “Get back to work. I’ll take Miss Contini to the gardens to meet Mr. Snider.”

  “Nice meeting you, Zaira. We’ll talk more about town later.” I hurried to keep up with Mrs. White.

  Halfway across the back lawn, Mrs. White turned and said, “You haven’t been hired to fraternize with the help. You will do your job and you won’t distract anyone else from doing theirs.” Without waiting for a reply, she continued west toward an old wooden stable and a tiny cottage. “The cottage serves as the servants’ quarters,” Mrs. White informed me and went on to clarify, “Except for me, of course. I have a room in the house.”

  We searched the vast gardens for Mr. Snider with no success. Mrs. White led me down a narrow stone path that guided us into a forested area on the south side of the house. “He is probably chopping wood,” she grumbled, keeping a fast pace despite her rather short legs.

  We found Mr. Snider at the end of the path, resting on a tree stump by a neatly stacked pile of firewood. His countenance was pleasant, even though he had a weather-beaten face and a large straw hat covering his unkempt brown hair. Under his blue overalls, Mr. Snider wore a well-worn white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

  “Morning,” he greeted in a low voice.

  “Mr. Snider, polite as always,” observed Mrs. White.

  “I learned it all from you, Deborah.” His words were complimentary and his tone courteous, but I was certain I detected a hint of sarcasm. “What do I owe the honor of your presence in these parts of the woods?”

  “This is Florence Contini. She’ll be working for Mr. Sterling.” Mrs. White’s introduction was brusque.

  “Good morning, Mr. Snider. How are you?”

  “Better now that we have some real people around here.” This time there was no mistaking his meaning.

  Mrs. White’s lips tightened at Mr. Snider’s barb. “Keep in mind, Miss Contini will be at the house every day. She might need assistance if she wanders about.”

  “I don’t think I’ll come this far.” The forest surrounding Oak’s Place felt menacing after last night’s dream.

  “You’ll do well not to,” Mrs. White warned.

  “If you do, I’ll be happy to show you around.” Mr. Snider managed a brief smile.

  “Of course, you will,” Mrs. White mocked, heading back towards the path. “Well then, we’ll leave you to your chopping. It’s nice to see that you are good at something.”

  Mr. Snider picked up his axe and used it to abruptly split a log in two.

  “Yes, you can do that very well indeed,” Mrs. White said over her shoulder. Mr. Snider waved his hand, dismissing her comment.

  “Until later,” I said, looking back at the handyman.

  “Miss,” he replied, his head producing a small, respectful bow. I liked him already—as much for his equanimity as for his skirmish with Mrs. White. With him and Zaira as potential allies, hopefully, I might find it less onerous working with the prickly Mrs. White.

  “Go ahead and start your work,” Mrs. White ordered as we stepped back into the house.

  “Very well.”

  “Zaira, get me some tea and an aspirin,” she commanded as I exited the kitchen.

  Passing by Mr. Sterling’s office, I wondered if he was behind the closed door, and if I would see him today.

  In the doorway to my office, I took a deep breath and tried to decide the best way to start the day.

  I turned to the armoire that served as the storage place for the business books and documents and it became readily apparent that my first step would be to organize its contents. It wasn’t going to be an easy task; they were all so different. I’d have to read and study them one by one to categorize and file them properly.

  Surprisingly, time passed rather quickly as my mind was consumed with accuracy. I held a large blue-bound book in my hand and flipped it open for a moment, then placed it on the stack labeled “farms.” I was getting faster at sorting. I was reaching for another volume, when I accidentally dislodged a small brown book that bounced against my thigh before falling onto the floor. I picked it up, noticing that it was the smallest book I had yet seen. It felt smooth and leathery in my hand as I flipped its yellowed pages. On the top of one of the pages, I found a spidery inscription in black ink: Personal Cemetery Tombs—Dates and Names. I shivered and then glanced down at a list of names.

  “I’ll take that.” I gave a little jump, not having noticed Mrs. White silently slipping into the room. “Where did you find it?” She snatched the book from my hands.

  “In here, among these books.”

  “It shouldn’t be here. It has been misplaced.” I couldn’t help but feel annoyed as Mrs. White fingered through the book with an air of supremacy before firmly placing it in her dress pocket. It wasn’t as though I had been prying into whatever secrets they were keeping here on purpose. I was just attempting to do my job correctly.

  “Oh, I see you beat me to it,” said Mr. Vines appearing through the door. I couldn’t help but think that he looked more like a picture of a soldier fallen out of the pages of a book than a real person—very mechanical, precise. The uneasiness I had experienced in his presence yesterday had in no way decreased. Mrs. White looked at him with inquiring eyes, waiting for him to explain his words. “Lunch is ready.”

  Mrs. White glanced at her wristwatch. “Oh, yes. Where has the time gone? Lunch is served at one o’clock sharp in the kitchen. We expect punctuality. If there is anything else you need, you can rest assured that Mr. Vines and I are watching after you.”

  “Wonderful,” I muttered.

  3

  ~ Unavoidable ~

  Determined to be punctual for lunch, I hurried to clear off the last few papers on my desk. I entered the foyer and was startled to see Mr. Sterling partway down the hall, walking towards the kitchen with his back to me. Reaching the end of the corridor, he slowed his pace, as if sensing my presence. For an instant, I was sure he would turn to face me, but he marched on.

  I lingered in the foyer for a moment to avoid catching up with him. The possibility of eating lunch with Mr. Sterling suddenly had my stomach fluttering nervously.

  To both my relief and disappointment, only Zaira and Mr. Snider were seated at the kitchen table.

  “Miss Contini, come in please,” Zaira welcomed, rising from her chair.

  “Please, call me Florence.”

  “Fair enough. Florence, it is.” Zaira’s easy-going personality helped me relax. “Please sit down. Here is a plate for you.” She pointed to a place next to her. “Serve yourself anything you like.”

  “Everything this girl makes is delicious,” Mr. Snider complimented, signaling toward
s the few platters in the center of the table.

  “We have a chicken casserole, a vegetable pie, and this one is a very British salad.” Zaira cheerfully motioned to each dish.

  “Very British indeed. It’s like nothing you’ve eaten before,” Mr. Snider assured.

  “It looks splendid. Thank you.” I made sure to get a little of everything to please Zaira.

  “How are you enjoying your first day at Oak’s Place?” Mr. Snider inquired in a sincere tone.

  “I think this food is the best thing so far.” I smiled. “But there is definitely a lot of work waiting for me in the front room.”

  “I can imagine. I understand that Mr. Sterling owns much land in England,” Zaira observed. “It’s going to be a challenge to keep it in order from here.”

  “Yes, I think it will. I’ll have to make some connections overseas pretty soon—there are transactions that I can’t possibly accomplish without someone’s help from your homeland.”

  “Good thing you are young and sharp,” Mr. Snider said. “You’ll manage just fine.”

  “I sure hope so. But where is everyone else? I thought one o’clock is the enforced time.”

  “It is. But you’ll only find us two eating in the kitchen. Sometimes, if it’s a warm day, we eat in the garden. Very seldom do Mr. Vines and Mrs. White join us,” Zaira explained.

  “They think they are too good for us,” Mr. Snider said in a hushed voice. “And thank heaven for that. I appreciate eating in peace.”

  “Mr. Snider, hush. You’ll get us in trouble,” Zaira urged. He shook his head in disagreement.

  “What about Mr. Sterling?”

  “Oh no, Mr. Sterling never eats with us. He spends most of his time in his office or in his room, even for his meals.”

  “But I saw him coming down the corridor earlier.”

  “Yes, to his room. It’s down the hall to the left before turning into the kitchen,” said Zaira.

  “Mrs. White said he suffers from an unknown disease.” I tried to sound casual. “But there must be, if not a cure, some type of relief.” This condition truly puzzled me.