Chapter Six: The House that Time Forgot

Martha’s Vineyard was full of side streets, large and small houses, inlets and bays, and miles and miles of beach. It would have been somewhat easy to get lost around there had Carrie not had Buffy’s wonderful directions.  Following them though made it easy for her to find the road that led to her home for the foreseeable future.

Carrie made a right at the top of Harbor Bay Drive. She noticed that there were few houses on this stretch of road. It seemed lonely, desolate, not much different then Carrie felt herself. Unlike the other places she had driven past there were dunes here that kept the beach obscured from the views of passersby. Judging by the size of the houses she was passing, she guessed that there was a reason for that. They looked like vacation homes of the literary and artsy rich and famous, wonderfully old and historical.  “Well at least it will afford me some privacy.” Carrie said to herself as she came to the end of the road where it turned and led up to a drive. The driveway was winding and long.  It was overgrown and unkempt as though it had remained untouched and unloved for years. “Well, the first thing this guy needs to do is hire a groundskeeper. No wonder no one wants to list the place. Sheesh!” Carrie kept talking to herself, her words echoing in the car, keeping her company.

Her car pulled up to the house and Carrie got out, stretching her tired limbs. She looked around, taking in all the details of her surroundings. The house was huge, more of a stately old mansion then a house. The outside was a cold, unfriendly, imposing stone texture. The manor stretched three stories high. The obvious first two stories and then a small window at the top that one could only presume was an attic. The turrets at either corner of the house fascinated Carrie.. Carrie walked around the other side of the house, she wanted to get her bearings and feel comfortable before she entered. The side of the house also faced the ocean but on this side there were no dunes to block the magnificent view. She looked up at what must have been the master bedroom. There were double French doors up on the second floor that opened to a Widow’s Walk. She rounded the back of the house but was unable to enter the fenced yard from that side. Knowing what she did about architecture from Jon, she would have guessed that the house was built in the 1820’s. It would have been an extravagant, expensive house for that time period and a little revolutionary in its style. Most houses that had turrets weren’t built till around 1890.  Feeling a little more comfortable, Carrie rounded back the other way and fished for the keys that Raymond had left for her. The old wooden door unlocked easily and gave willingly to her hesitant push.

Carrie started coughing as soon as she entered the vestibule. She was leaving footprints; so thick was the dust on the hardwood floors. “Hope the owner isn’t paying the cleaning crew by the hour.” Carrie said to herself as she got her bearings. The furniture was covered in sheets. The broom and the mop, which must belong to the cleaning people, were left lying next to the stairwell. The stairs were spiral and magnificent. The main hall and the sitting room immediately to her right, stretched all the way up to the second floor. Carrie’s first thought was how nice this place might look at Christmas time. She could easily see it full of life and a happy family, celebrating the season’s joys together.  “Well, get it ready for opening he wants and get it ready I will.”  Carrie was excited by the prospect of exploring this house and all its hidden treasures.

Bringing in her suitcases was the first order of business. She carried them upstairs and set them in hallway, while she opened up the rooms. She started at the far end of the hall at the last room on the loft that overlooked the sitting room.  After unlocking it, the door was a little stubborn, as it had been warped by the harsh, punishing air of the sea. It finally gave and it opened to a nursery. It was beautiful and breathtaking. The walls were blue, dark on the bottom and fading to a lighter shade of the same color as they drifted upwards to the ceiling, which was painted a brilliant yellow-orange. It gave you the impression that you were floating on the horizon at sunset and indeed the hand-carved antique crib was decorated with sailboats, as were the bureau and the rocking chair. Someone loved this baby very much. The room screamed of expectations, of hopes for the future. Carrie fell in love with it and couldn’t wait to open it up and clean it, restore it to the bright hues it must have been at one time.

The next room looked at though it belonged to an older boy…it too was blue but sparse. It lacked the hopeful qualities that the nursery possessed. It seemed, somehow subdued, and muted. Carrie carefully uncovered the bed. It was an antique but nothing ornate. The bureau was covered in small soldiers and other little farm toys that were popular at that time. This place was an antique lover’s haven.

The next room was the powder room; indoor plumbing was always a plus. Actually, it appeared as thought the plumbing had been updated to look antique. It looked as the owner had been updating the place a little at a time. Whoever had been here before her to fix this place must not have had keys to the other rooms or was very trustworthy. The bathroom was spacious. It had a claw foot tub that was deep; the kind of bathtub that was made for long, hot bubble baths. Carrie couldn’t wait to try it out. The fixtures were all brass. There was a pedestal sink and a very elaborate mirror above that. The toilet was a modern replica of an antique with a pull-chain to flush it. At the back of the bathroom was another door. Carrie opened expecting to find a closet and instead found that it concealed a shower room. All the conveniences of the modern world with none of the look, Carrie thought to herself.

The last room on the floor was the master bedroom. Carrie hesitated, she felt as though she were trespassing on someone’s private property. It was as if by opening this door, she was going to open a whole other world. None of the other rooms felt like this but still, she had to sleep somewhere.  She picked up her suitcases and with one push opened the door to a completely magnificent room. It was three times the size of the other rooms at least. Putting her suitcases down she quickly lifted the sheet that covered the bed. It was like entering Pandora’s box; she was so excited.

Carrie stepped back repressing the oath that came naturally to her lips. This bed was magnificent. It was a grand four-poster cherry wood bed. The coverlet was an old-fashioned wedding ring quilt, the kind that intertwined the histories and lives of two families joining as one. It was slightly yellowed with age. The backboard of the bed was carved with family crests. On either side there were smaller one and in the middle was a large shield, a culmination of the two smaller. “It must have symbolized their marriage; the two becoming one. It is magnificent.” She said while admiring its breathtaking beauty. Carrie looked around the room at the other sheet-covered furniture. “Well, I might as well get started.” She said as she rummaged in her bag for some old clothes to start cleaning in.

It never occurred to Carrie to wonder why so many things had been left untouched by time; why there were so many things that had survived over one-hundred and fifty years; why some things should have been packed away and yet were left out, and alone. It never occurred to her that things in this part of the house were not dusty and yet had been covered all the time. She didn’t even leave herself time to think as she dove into her work, putting worries and cares behind her.