Carridelle – Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Rainy Day Encounters

The day after the party dawned on a gray and gloomy sky. Rain was imminent. There would be no wading in the surf today and so it seemed the perfect day to ponder on the history of her ghostly friend. The spirit world had been quiet since the discovery of the diary. That was kind of a good thing because Carrie had not had a chance to sit down and figure out what it all meant.

With the helpless specter of that girl in mind, Carrie made her breakfast and poured herself a cup of hot tea.  She sat down in the rocking chair in the living room. She held the diary in one hand and the newspaper clippings in the other. She was staring at them hopelessly. It was like she was trying to put together the pieces of a large jigsaw puzzle; only half of the required elements were missing, including the picture on the lid. Carrie started to review what she knew. There were at least two, possibly three ghosts haunting the house. The first, of course, the woman that she had seen; the second being the infant she had heard, and the third, which was just a possibility, was the sound of the man’s murmur of appreciation that she was sure she heard the other day in the bedroom. She knew that the house was in someway related to the Governor. She knew the governor had a nephew that had inherited all of his money and she knew that the nephew’s mother’s name was Susannah, but beyond that she had no clue. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there but she must have dozed off. Carrie awoke to the sound of a soft sobbing in the bedroom upstairs.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Carridelle made it to the bedroom and of course found no one there. The sobbing however continued and Carrie followed the noise to the gray stillness of the widow’s walk. There was not a soul on the terrace but the sound echoed in the wind. . “Hello?” Carrie called, feeling foolish to be talking to the air and yet the weeping stopped momentarily. Carrie felt the air grow colder around her and instinctively she reached up to wrap a shawl around her, only she was not wearing one. “Hello?” she said again, not really expecting a response and she supposed had she heard one she would have went running out of the house as fast as she could. It was one thing to hear a ghost and to see one, but to converse with one would have been strange even for her. “Help me to help you. Whatever it is you need I will help.” The wind calmed to a warm gentle breeze.

The shrill ring of the telephone brought Carrie out of her reverie. She ran inside to answer it and was slightly breathless when she picked up the receiver.

The voice on the other end was decidedly masculine, smooth and sexy. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Jon?” Carrie asked. She was thrown off by the abruptness of the question and the lack of a greeting. She should have known better. The silence from the part of the caller let her know she was wrong.

“It’s Charlie,” he said trying to force a note of happiness into his voice and wondering why it was that another man’s name made his jaw go rigid and his fingers clench. Surprise took him when he recognized the emotion as jealousy. Damn he barely knew this girl.

“Hi Charlie, how are you?”

“I was calling to see if you were ready for dinner yet?”

“Hmm as I recall the offer was for lunch and I didn’t think you meant today.”

“Well I am switching it to dinner and as my grandma always said, “Never put off to tomorrow what you can enjoy today!”

“Well I can’t argue with the wisdom of your Grandmother I suppose. All right, I’ll go to dinner with you. Or I could rustle you up some dinner right here. I’m not too horrible of a cook.”

“If it’s all the same to you I would rather take my chances with a restaurant.”

“Okay, though, I think I should be offended.”

“Don’t be.” He chuckled. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Be ready.”

“Yes sir.” Carrie replied and laughed off the urge to mock a salute.

“See you then Carrie.” And then he disconnected.

Carrie hung up the phone feeling nervous and happy, too much like a teen getting ready for her first date. This was ludicrous. She was too old for this and this certainly was not a date! This was dinner, two adults getting to know each other as friends. It could not be any other way. She loved Jon.

Carrie changed into a pair of fawn colored silk slacks and a baby pink shirt. She left her hair hang down and studied her image in the mirror. It didn’t look bad at all. She looked like autumn, which was perfect as the warmth of summer was starting to surrender hesitantly to the whispering breezes of fall.

At precisely eight a honk of a car horn echoed through the house. What on earth was that? She thought to herself as she checked her appearance in the mirror for the hundredth time. Peering out the bay window through the heavy lace curtains, she saw Charlie sitting in his car waiting for her. Carrie thought of one of her favorite movies, “The Quiet Man.” Maureen O’Hara was quite angry with John Wayne and told him “I am not a woman to be honked at and come a runnin.” Well neither was Carrie, men who had class would come up to the door and knock. And she grabbed her purse and went out to the car to tell him just that.

She was surprised when she reached him that he was out of the car and holding the door open for her. It was a nice car too, a black Ford Expedition. She forgot her anger at his prior rudeness as he extended a hand with a single yellow rose.

“For you my lady,” he said with a bow toward her. And she graciously accepted the beautiful flower as she climbed into his car. Settling herself back in the luxury seats she inhaled the scent of the rose. It blossomed the sweet fragrant scent of romance. Charlie closed her door and with one glance of trepidation back at the house, which was unseen by Carrie, he walked as quickly as he could and hopped in the driver’s seat.

The drive to the restaurant was passed with normal pleasantries about the sudden change in the weather and about places around the island that she had yet to be. Charlie promised to be her official tour guide when he had the time. She wondered what he did that kept him so busy but thought she might reserve those questions for dinner. Presently they pulled off the main high way to a secluded road. It was long and winding and they were driving past what looked like acres of farmland though in the dark it was hard to make it out. Finally they pulled up to a wonderfully beautiful wooden building. It looked like an enormous log cabin with a candle in every window. Charlie had the satisfaction of hearing Carrie draw in a sharp breath of admiration.

“You like it?” he asked her.

“It’s beautiful. What is this place?”

“It is D’Uva Incantevole. Which I think is loosely translated to mean the delightful grape. At least that is where my buddy was going when he named it. Sadly his Italian is lacking; but his restaurant is not. They have the best food and actually their wine is only known around here but is one of the best I have ever tried. Perhaps we can take a tour of it during the day sometime.”

“I would love too. I’ve not seen any of the wineries yet.”

Carrie’s eyes adjusted to the soft light of the candlelit tables on the inside of the building. The tables were placed far apart so that conversations were private. The spacious rooms made the place seem more romantic. The tables were covered in checkered tablecloths and each had a place setting for two. Soft Italian classical music was piped in through invisible speakers. The wait staff stood discreetly in the shadows, highly trained and waiting for the second you required their attention. Here and there couples sat together, breaking bread, talking and holding hands. It was not crowded but Carrie could tell the place did a thriving business. It was a place for romance not a place for friends getting to know one another. She made a mental note to remind Charlie of that later. The waiter led them to their table, “Good Evening Signore Murray. Shall I bring you a bottle of the house wine?”

“Yes thank you Antonio.”

“Hmm you must bring all of your friends here.” Carrie said and was surprised to feel the twinge of anger in her heart.

“I told you the owner and I are friends. But no, I only bring women here when I’m interested in getting them in bed.” Charlie had the satisfaction of watching her  face blush with anger.

Carrie was ready to slap him and call it a night when she looked up into his eyes and realized they were mocking her yet again. Well she could give as good a she got she supposed, “Hmm so you don’t come here often then is what you are saying.”

Charlie laughed a wonderfully deep laugh that seemed out of place in this quiet romantic place. They reached for a slice of bread form the basket on the table, their fingers touching, lingering for moments longer then necessary.

After they placed their orders with Philippe, the headwaiter, they chatted easily.

“So tell me all there is to know about Carrie Stenson, the famous author.”

“Well, there is not much to it really. Let’s see I am the only child of two wonderful parents who are in Ireland right now celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary. I grew up in Philadelphia and went to Catholic school for most of my life. I attended Cornell and I’ m a writer.”

“What about your boyfriend?” He said with a negative tone. Charlie hated himself for feeling jealousy.

“Jon? Well he is an architect, a successful one. He lives in the suburbs. He is a wonderful man. We’ve been together for six years.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Problem? Who said there was a problem?” Asked Carrie paying way too much attention to buttering her bread then need be. She avoided eye contact with him fearing she would show her emotions that were hovering very close to the surface.

“Well, let’s see you are here and he is there. Now a beautiful girl is off on an island full of romance and history and he chooses to stay back home. You seem hesitant to share many details with me so I’m thinking something is wrong with that picture.”

Carrie laughed and put up her hands in mock resistance to the inquisition.  “Alright, Alright I give! Jon asked me to marry him and yet I am not sure that it is the right time for me. I love him but I feel like, I don’t know, like something is wrong with the picture but I can’t put my finger on it.” Her thought train was making her nervous. She had to change the subject.

“But what about you? Tell me the secret life of the mysterious Charlie Murray.”

“Well alright but I don’t know how interesting I am. I’m a cowboy, more or less. I own a ranch in Virginia, where my family hails from.  It is a working ranch complete with cattle and all but it is also a retreat for kids with disabilities. It gives them a chance to work up close with animals, ride the horses, milk the cows, and feed the assorted animals on the farm. I hope it let’s them know that there is something they can accomplish.”

“Well you are a wonder Charlie. I would have never thought of you being a…” the steaming plate of fettuccine that the waiter set in front of her interrupted Carrie. “MMM… that smells delicious, Graci.” She said using all of her knowledge of the language in that one word.

“Graci Philippe.” Charlie said as well and poured some of the wine into his glass and hers. “So you didn’t think of me as…”

“Hmmm? Oh I never thought of you as being a cowboy.” But the images that arose to her mind of Charlie sitting aside a horse all sweaty from a day on a ranch were unbidden but not unwelcome. She found herself shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s great that the ranch works with kids with disabilities. How did you ever come into that?”

“Well I started to study education when I went to college. I wanted to be a special ed teacher, but I found that I missed the ranch too much. So I went back to it but I still wanted to do what I could to help.”

“Admirable. You said your family was from Virginia but I thought you owned the house that I am staying at.”

“Ahrrrmmm…” Charlie cleared his throat, “Yes I do own that house and another on this island. Seems I can’t stay away from here. Once I came to visit I fell in love with the place. So I spend any free time I have up here. There is no one to object anymore…” he stopped. He had said more then he intended to already.

“Another on the island? Why? That seems like such a waste. And who objects to you being here?”

“No one objects now,” he said choosing to tackle the second part of her question first. “My family objected to anyone being here. This place holds some bad memories that go way back. They even disowned my grandfather when he was drawn back here as well. But now he and I are all that is left of the family. He suffers from dementia and Sundown Syndrome so he’s in assisted living facilities here on the island.”

“I am sorry that you have lost so much of your family and sorry to hear about your grandfather. That must be hard on you.”

“Some days he seems like himself. He has days where he is sharp as a tack, though he prophesies a bit now and again and tells some very strange tales. He’s the reason I don’t live in that house that you are in.”

“What? Why ever not? The place is fantastic.”

“Ever since I can remember my grandfather was terrified of that house. He would tell stories about it. About…. Oh never mind you’ll just laugh.”

Carrie reached out and touched his hand, “About ghosts?”

“You’ve seen them?”

Carrie laughed at him. He looked more like an excited schoolboy then a businessman and a cowboy. “Yes…well at least I have heard them. I think I may have seen one at the window…. Oh gosh I can’t believe I am telling you this. I can’t believe I would tell anyone. You must think I am crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy at all and I’m one of the few who never thought my grandfather crazy. I’ve never been in the house, and I doubt that I’ll ever go in there. I know it’s foolish of me. but too many people have stories – the cleaning crews, the contractors… I had to pay some pretty heavy sums to get anyone to stay. I guess chains rattling and moans and groans tend to add a certain charm though.”

“It’s not like that at all you know.” Carrie said laughing at his ghostly description. “The woman is well, sad, I think. I think she needs my help. Do you know any of the history of the place?”

“I know very little about it actually. I know that it was built for my great-great-great grandparents in 1843. But I only know that from the architectural records. There’s some bad blood associated with that house. And when you come from a family of old Irish women you don’t brook superstition.” Charlie laughed picturing his grandmother and her fierce warnings about the house. “I don’t know what happened there. There was some traumatic event but it died with the generation that lived through it. After everything happened, they moved to Virginia and never spoke of it again. No one in the town seems to know either, but many people are afraid to go in there.”

“Damn! I thought for sure you could tell me more. I am starting to find out some things but the search for information is very slow. The house intrigues me. Were it possible to fall in love with a building I think I am doing it. Everything about the house is romantic and full of stories. Hey do you know the name of your great-great-great grandmother?”

“Let me think…. Yeah, actually I do. My Grandmother was named for her. Her name was Susannah. Does that help?”

Carrie’s eyes lit up with excitement. Charlie thought they reminded him of emeralds glistening in the moonlight. Her enthusiasm showed on her face like that of a little kid in a toy store near Christmas. “It helps tremendously. Now I know who the ghost is!”

So now they knew that it was Susannah that haunted the house but the true question was why?