Chapter 2 - Discovery
Blair turned to her sister, startled. Kahlen seemed surprised at herself, or at least at the sudden noise that was released from her mouth.
"I'm sorry. I'm just so… excited!" Kahlen exclaimed gleefully. She clasped her hands together, flexing her fingers. Greer stared at her with a blank expression on his face as a wide, bright smile burst across Kahlen's face. "What's wrong with you people?!" She shouted to them jokingly, skimming over the frightened faces of her family with her eyes. "Don't expect to see me happy?!" Kahlen backed up so that she was a few inches away from the house, spreading her arms out dramatically. "This is OUR house!" She screamed. "Ours!" Kahlen laughed joyfully at the thought and fell into the grass, sighing.
Blair let out a giggle at her sister's giddiness as Bridgette raised her eyebrows questioningly. Folding her arms, she leaned closer to her father.
"If she's going to be like this all the time, I say we go back to Connecticut." Bridgette whispered to Greer. Her father laughed, taking it as a joke and ruffling her hair. She immediately smoothed it down. But part of Bridgette was serious. Her mother was always tired from that stupid job of hers that she would come home from work at six, make dinner, complain about it, eat it, go to bed, and do the same thing the next day. She was not used to seeing her mother being a happy fairy prancing through fields of grain, sprinkling her pixie dust over unfortunate passers and blinding people with her sparkling white smile.
"Your mother's right." Greer announced, joining Kahlen to stand in front of the house. It seemed so big compared to the two small people, it looked as if it would leap out and engulf them. "This is an amazing house. I bet everyone in Antigonish is jealous of it." Greer stated, widening his blue eyes and looking from Bridgette to Jay to Blair. Bridgette examined her nails, tapping her foot on the dirt. Blair searched the area around them, her eyes lingering on the woods. Her face read blank. Jay, however, when he caught his father's eyes, smiled broadly, a grin identical to the one that was currently set on Kahlen's face. Greer thought that they the family most likely looked pretty unconventional to someone passing by. He took the liberty of removing a beat-up brown wallet from his pocket. Digging into the folds of the wallet, Greer's fingers emerged with a small brass key tucked between them. He turned to face the house. "Shall we?" He voiced. "This key doesn't work for the front door, so we'll have to go by the side." Greer started around the side of the house. Jay bounded from his spot, leaping in stride next to his mother and father while Blair and Bridgette followed almost reluctantly, their heels slightly dragging along the ground.
Jay reached the side door first, which was also had a small, modern looking enclosed porch. It seemed like it was built much after the original house, looking slightly awkward and out of place. Greer and Kahlen joined them, and, as Jay looked back, he realized that Bridgette and Blair had just rounded the corner. Jay watched, his stomach churning with anticipation, as Greer slowly slid the key into the lock and turned it. A click echoed as Jay reached forward for the knob. He turned it, the brass feeling cold in his hand. He looked back before pushing the it open, noticing the anticipation in his mother's eyes. Jay laid his palm against the wood door and gave it a shove. It swung open with a long, groaning creak. Jay paused for a second, unsure of what to do. But his feet told him by scurrying up the stone steps and planting themselves on the floor of the porch. His parents eagerly crowded in after him. Bridgette and Blair took their time, filing into the porch one by one.
As Blair glanced around the space which the entire family stood bunched up in, she realized that what she had first thought was simply a porch was actually an entryway, or a mudroom. She spotted a washer and dryer through an open doorway to the left of her. Another door stood in front of them. It was pure white, with a little green-tinted glass window which provided them a dim glance inside. Blair observed that she probably didn't seem the most eager, so, to show her gratitude, stepped past her family and pushed open the door. Everyone immediately poked their heads through the doorway to have a peek and all seemed to realize at the exact same time that they could actually enter the house. At this thought, the family pushed and shoved their way through the door, including Bridgette, who was now provoked to explore her new home.
Kahlen couldn't help but gawk when she entered the house. The ceilings must have been at least twenty feet high. The draft pushing through the open space caused a chill to creep up her spine. She shivered, glancing around.
They were at the back of the house where they stood now. Kahlen could see a large kitchen to the right of them, a dining room style table set in the middle of it. Her feet began willing her forward, the old wood beneath her feet complaining with a groan as she stepped over it. The first room on her left looked to be a small study. A black leather chair had been abandoned, propped in the corner facing towards the shelves of dusty books. A small square window provided a dim cast of sunlight over the room. Kahlen continued to wander down the wide hallway, accompanied by a large staircase to the left of her. She was about to meander into the next room, which provided a preview of itself by casting long shadows of the bay windows into the hallway, when someone told her to stop. It took Kahlen a couple of seconds to pause and realize that no human voice had actually told her to stop, but it was rather an instinct. So Kahlen ceased her walking and stood [quite unevenly on the creaking wood floor. An odd silence then filled her head, spreading to the hallway around her. It was the same silence as when it snowed and you went outside to watch the white flakes cascade down to hit the ground. When the only thing you could hear is the drip of icicles falling from branches and the little patter when the snowflakes struck your coat. The silence ended when the thing whispered to her mind to look up. It was at this moment when the choices in Kahlen's life started to be made for her. If she had to choose, Kahlen could have decided to ignore the strange murmur and keep walking to explore the rest of her home. But she had no choice now. Life had her by the puppet strings, and the strings pulled her head up to stare at the beautiful, cascading balcony overlooking the house and sharing the view of a crystal chandelier. The puppet strings willed her feet forward, rising to the first step of the broad staircase. The strings curled her fingers around the painted wood railing and raised her feet from step to step. A draft whirled around her, willing her forward. Kahlen. The voice spoke, Kahlen, come. As she got to the top step, Kahlen's eyes shot to the open door to her right, the poorly painted green one. It was open only a third of the way, and a glance of movement inside drew her to it. Her feet shuffled along the wood, inching closer to the open door. She removed her arm from her side, preparing to grab the doorknob and push it open. A deep blanket of cold wrapped itself bindingly around her outstretched hand and a chill that felt much like a cold grip wrapped around her neck. Kahlen's thin fingers coiled around the cold brass door knob, and for some reason unbeknownst to her, her heart skipped a beat. Kahlen, wasting no time, thrust the door open.
October 24, 1846
"Eliza!"
The girl turned around at the abrupt shout of her name. She set the watering pail gingerly on the dirt next to her, brushing off her dress. She sighed internally to see Cynthia Smith running very with her skirt bunched in her hands towards her. Cynthia was the town crier and Eliza highly doubted she just came to help her with hauling water. Sure enough, as Cynthia approached she had a sinful gleam in her eyes. Much of her blond hair had fallen out of her bun but Cynthia didn't give much care to it, sweeping it back briefly. She looked to Eliza excitedly.
"You will never guess what I heard today creeping through town." Cynthia took a seat on the gray stone wall of the well, tugging Eliza down with her. Eliza looked to her expectantly.
Cynthia leaned in closer to her, her face flushed. She glanced around quickly so as to assure no one was eavesdropping.
"Well," Cynthia dropped her voice to a low, eager whisper. "I heard from Sarah Parker who heard from Hope Goodwin who was told by Emma Bunt who nearly experienced it first hand that… well, dear, I am not even sure if I should be telling you this."
"Well, sweet Cynthia, you and I both know that for sure you will just burst if you do not tell someone. Now come out and say it." Eliza assured, secretly at least somewhat interested in what the girl had to say. Cynthia nodded at this.
"Well, all right then. Well, last night, Maxwell Coldwell told his wife-"
"Grace?" Eliza pointed out.
"Why, yes, of course, now let me get on with it. Maxwell told Grace that he would be spending the night with Abraham Daley and his family in order to get an early start the next day on repairing the Daleys' roof."
"Well, that is not so shocking to me…" Eliza commented.
"Wait, wait," Cynthia whined, waving her hand at Eliza. "I am not even halfway through yet!"
"Yes, continue then." Eliza sighed, desperately wishing Cynthia to get to the point.
"Alright, so Grace was home alone that night, aside from her two small children."
"I would hate to be all alone in that big house of theirs at nighttime. I would feel so isolated if I were the only one on the hill."
Cynthia sighed. "Please, dear Eliza, comment afterwards, but I must tell you what happened!"
"Yes, I am so sorry, go on with it, Cynthia."
"Grace could not sleep that night for loneliness, and her children were fast asleep. She decided to take a brisk walk down the street." At this, Cynthia leaned in closer to Eliza, sneaking a glance around her once more. "And as dear Grace was passing by the old barn in the alcove at the end of the road, she heard voices."
"Voices?"
"Yes, voices. She thought it might be the Goodwin twins for they are always getting themselves into mischief, so she was going to open the barn door to scold them." Cynthia took a deep breath, holding a silence to create a dramatic pause.
"And?" Eliza questioned, becoming more interested in the Cynthia's elaborate story. A wicked gleam passed through Cynthia's eyes, the corners of her mouth turning up.
"Grace opened the barn door."
"Yes, and?" Eliza urged.
Cynthia shrugged casually, enjoying the suspense she was putting Eliza through. "Well, maybe it's best for me not to say."
"Cynthia Smith, you tell me this instant!" Eliza insisted as a giggle emerged from Cynthia's throat.
"Well, fine then, I suppose I cannot keep you guessing forever. Grace opened the door and found her husband, Maxwell..."
Eliza waved her hands for Cynthia to continue.
"With Flora Jameson."
The thought did not register in Eliza's mind at first. "Yes? What were they doing?"
Cynthia's eyes widened and she glanced away. She grew tight lipped. "Well, they were not sharing a cup of tea, if that's what you were thinking, Eliza."
Eliza gasped, putting her hand to her chest. "Adultery? Why on earth would Maxwell do such a thing? And the Jameson girl?"
"Well, you cannot say it is not expected of Flora, dear Eliza, she's had just about three husbands in her twenty-four years."
"That's just terrible!" Eliza breathed. "Absolutely awful! Poor old Grace, she must be wallowing. We must visit her and bring some sweets... possibly our company will make her feel better?" Eliza stood, as well as Cynthia.
"Oh, I could not, Eliza. Grace already dislikes me, I do not think I will comfort her."
"Well, then, I'll just have to go without you." Eliza said plaintively, shaking her dress free of gathering dust. She leaned down to pick up her water pail. Don't expect me back here today."
"Alright then," Cynthia nodded, "But if she asks you, you did not hear the news from me."
"Whatever you wish, Cynthia. Say, why don't you find Lawrence Jameson and make it sure that he is not punishing Flora too harshly, eh?"
"Perhaps I will." Cynthia called back as Eliza disappeared around the corner.
For no particular reason, Kahlen felt a rush of fury hit her as the green door swung open. She felt as if she should storm into the room and start ripping all of the paintings off the walls and break the window panes. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing the feeling to disappear. The strong emotion faded, though a slight sense of rage boiled deep inside her, causing her stomach to churn. Kahlen placed her right foot into the room, letting it sink into the soft, dull green carpet. She let her other foot step into the soft cushion of rug, a big contrast from the rough hardwood floor she had previously been walking on. She walked into the middle of the room, her feet padding lightly along the floor. She guessed that this was the master bedroom, for it was a big, open space. There was a bay window to the left of the bed with a seat under it, a perfect spot to sit and read, or maybe just observe the goings-on of the town. Kahlen began to move forward to sit down on the bench to just admire her new yard, but the voice was back. And this time it was more of a chill just spiraling itself around her body, reeling her in like a fish on a hook. And when Kahlen turned around and followed the pull, that is when she saw it for the first time. The mirror. A large, lengthwise mirror set into the wall. It looked old to Kahlen, vintage old. The wood border that outlined it was cracking, the carvings that had once been so prominent and most likely haunting had faded, and Kahlen was unsure of what they were. To, Kahlen, the room began to grow very frigid, the mirror so clear it seemed to be emitting frost. Kahlen reached out and laid her palm against the glass. She stared at her reflection, so unrecognizable to her. Is that really me? She thought.Kahlen didn't look any physically different, but when she stared at the reflection of her eyes, a vacant stare shot back at her. Dark brown eyes that had lost their passion. Sad, dead eyes. Those aren't my eyes. She thought. They can't be mine.
And then, for no reason known to her, Kahlen opened her mouth as a dull voice emerged and chanted.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall…"