Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (14 page)

She also noticed that the grocer, Mr. Hapgood, seemed distressed. He was sitting very still, eyes wide, staring straight ahead as if he had indeed seen a ghost, and he was making no effort to sing. Miss Herron was singing, in what seemed an attempt to overpower Mrs. Mott, and the two women dropped hands with noticeable alacrity when Judge Babcock reappeared between them. Annie could see that the Judge was in the grips of great emotion. His breathing seemed rapid, and he kept licking his lips. Before rejoining hands with the two women on either side of him, he took out a large white handkerchief and wiped his brow.

“
Welcome back, Judge, I hope that your session with your daughter brought you both peace,” said Simon.

The Judge nodded grimly. The piano music had died down again. A weak stream of light emanated from the next room, throwing grotesque shadows across the table. Annie could still feel the breeze and was just turning her head to see if the curtains hanging on either side of the fireplace seemed to be moving, when Simon continued.

“
Please give my lovely wife your full attention. As you all know, we have a new member to our circle, Mrs. Fuller; a sympathetic addition you will all agree, for the spirits have come out in force in her presence. Let us sit in quiet prayer, welcoming the spirits to our circle.”

His wife, Arabella, began to sway again, emitting a low hum. Mr. Ruckner began to sit up straighter, and Annie wondered if a spirit ever returned in any given night. For once Mrs. Larkson and Mr. Sweeter seemed to be taking things seriously, as they both sat with their eyes closed. Mr. Hapgood continued to stare at some point outside the circle.

“
Behold, departed ones,” Simon louder this time, startling Annie. “Mrs. Fuller craves your help. Mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, come give us your wisdom and guidance.”

Annie noticed the Judge was once again looking past her shoulder, but then he shook his head, as if in disappointment. She willed herself not to turn around. She really didn’t want to know if Evie May was still visible and if she was staring at the back of her head. Annie was concentrating so hard, it took a second to register that a new voice was speaking, from behind, but not the voice of a young girl. This voice sounded older, more mature.

“
Annie, my love. My sweet darling, I am here, your very own mother. Annie, come sit with me a spell. You are all grown up. How I have missed you.”

Annie was never sure how she got into the cabinet, but there she was, sitting on a narrow bench next to Evie May, with the curtain cutting off the sight of the rest of the members of the circle in the next room. She took a deep breath and tried to regain her calm. She did remember that, when she first turned around in response to her name, she had been momentarily at a loss because it seemed that the young medium had been replaced by a grown woman. Now she realized Evie May had looked taller because she was standing on the upraised floor of the cabinet. The girl had also pulled up her hair into a knot and brought down the headscarf, turning it into a shawl, which transformed the way she looked from girl to woman. In the close confines of the cabinet, it was easier to see the girl behind the illusion, despite the fact that she continued to speak in adult tones and kept referring to Annie as her daughter.

Oh, my, she really got to you, didn’t she?
Annie scolded herself.
No wonder Simon is cultivating this one’s “talent,” and I thought Arabella was a good actress.
When she closed her eyes, the spell rewove itself, and, for a moment, she could imagine again that it was her mother talking to her, after all these years. But it was just nonsense. Evie May kept repeating meaningless phrases any mother might say to any daughter she hadn’t seen in some time, interspersed with more concrete details about the ranch Annie grew up on, her father, Edward, and her favorite horse. Not a single fact that Annie herself hadn’t let drop in the interview with Simon.

When she opened up her eyes, what she saw was a young girl, maybe as young as thirteen or fourteen, doing a very effective imitation of an adult woman. The erect carriage, the furrowed brow, the mature voice, all reinforced the vision, as did the graceful use of her hands as she reached out to caress Annie’s face.

Annie pulled back, repulsed, and said, “Stop this. Evie May, this is wrong.”

The girl ceased speaking for an instant, then resumed, saying in sorrowful tones, “Oh Annie, you are angry. You have every right to be angry with me, leaving you when you were just a little girl. But you had your father to guide you, and I watched over you from Summerland. Please, you must believe me. My time on this earthly plane is limited; don’t let’s waste it. Tell me all about your life, all the things I missed.”

Annie shuddered, realizing how incredibly seductive this girl/woman was, with her sad, pale eyes and her soft voice. How easy it would be for someone to embrace the idea that she was the embodiment of a loved one who had died.

But she was here to expose Evie May and Arabella and Simon for the frauds they were, so that women like Sukie didn’t spend the rest of their lives under that seductive spell. To do that she had a role to play, so she took another deep breath and said, “Dearest Mother, I am sorry, this is all so strange. What do you want to know?”

Evie May smiled and seemed to relax, saying, “Tell me all about your lovely husband, John. I had so wanted to be with you on your wedding day; I was there in spirit. I was so distressed for you when I learned you had lost him after such a short time. Your life has been a sad one. Shall I try to find him? In Summerland there are many gardens, you know, and I feel sure I would be able to find him, if you wished. This circle has such strength, I am certain that they can coax him to come and visit you.”

Oh, my heavens, that would be a miracle!
Annie thought.
If John is anywhere it’s not heaven, but hell. But his appearance could help me convince Sukie that the spiritual manifestations produced by the Framptons are a lie.

She found that Evie May’s inaccurate representation of Annie’s husband actually steadied her. Embarrassed that she had lost her objectivity for a few moments, she focused her attention on observing Evie May, trying to determine if she was following some sort of memorized script. Arabella obviously had years of experience convincing gullible people, but Evie May was another matter.

She could see the girl pretty clearly, noticing for the first time that the back of the cabinet was made of a curtain, not wood. This curtain was of some sort of rough cloth that created an eerie glow within the cabinet, obscuring more than it illuminated. In the half-light she couldn’t tell if Evie May’s hair was blond or just a light brown, nor could she determine what color her eyes were, except that her pupils were huge. There was also a distinct odor of lavender in the cabinet, and Annie wondered if that was a scent that had special meaning to the Judge.

Evie May had gone silent, looking expectantly at her. Annie knew she was supposed to unburden herself to this false mother, which would in turn give Simon and his two mediums more information to feed back in subsequent séances. Not knowing how much time she had left in the cabinet, she needed to figure out a way to prompt Evie May to bring up Annie’s fictional son. She started with a general statement, saying, “Oh, Mother. I needed you so, when I lost Father, then John, and then my precious treasure.”

When Evie May just smiled sweetly at her and patted her on the shoulder, Annie became more direct, saying, “Mother, in those gardens, have you seen my Johnny? He was just walking when he was taken from me. Such a sweet baby.”

Evie May seemed to hesitate, her face froze for a moment, and then she closed her eyes as if she had a sudden headache. Annie, speculating that this might be a form of diversion while the girl tried to remember her lines, felt a pang of guilt. Such a young girl, and who knew what kind of compulsion she was under to act in this charade.

Just as Annie was about to say something more, Evie May opened her eyes, gave her a shy smile, and said in a small lisping voice, “I’m baby. Can I sit in your lap?”

Annie had barely registered this request, when Evie May, who gave the impression that she had shrunk in size, scrunched up close to Annie, throwing her legs over her lap and snaking one arm around her waist. Then, with her head snuggled onto Annie’s shoulder, she popped her thumb into her mouth and began sucking. The transformation from woman to young child was so rapid and complete Annie had trouble believing it wasn’t real. In fact, she noticed she had put her right arm around Evie May and was cuddling her. Almost afraid to break this new spell, Annie whispered, “Evie May, who are you now?”

Evie May reared back, pulled out her thumb, and said with a childish pout, “Not Evie! Don’t be silly, Maybelle’s my name.”

“
Maybelle, what a pretty name,” Annie said. “Can you tell me how old you are?” Annie thought perhaps Evie May had shifted back to the child who visited with Judge Babcock.

“
I’m six,” said Evie May proudly, holding up first one hand, her fingers spread, and then the index finger of the other. “I’m a big girl now. Been with the angels for ever so long, bet I ‘prised’ you something good, mother.”

Annie couldn’t breathe.
Mother, she called me mother, and she is six. Just the age . . . if she had lived . . .

The memories rushed in as Annie was thrust back in time to the hallway of her and John’s house in New York City, feeling the sharp pains that had shot through her abdomen that awful day. She had stood doubled over, rereading and rereading the telegram from her husband telling her that her father was dead.

John hadn’t permitted her to come with him to Maine, saying only that he had gotten a letter from her father instructing him to come north to discuss some business matters. John had insisted that she needed to stay and prepare for a dinner party they were having that weekend. He must have known her father was ill and kept the knowledge from her until it was too late.

The telegram said that all the funeral arrangements had been made and her father was to be buried that afternoon at three. Annie had stupidly looked up at the hall clock, as if it would tell her there was time for her to get all the way from New York City to the small New England town cemetery in which her father was already interred.

The next thing she remembered was lying on the floor of that same hallway, in the gathering shadows of evening, the pains dulled to a fierce ache, her nostrils filled with the strong smell of fresh blood. Nancy, her young maid, was sitting next to her on the floor, holding a tiny bundle and crying. Annie finally understood that she was saying, “It was a girl, poor mite, a girl, but she’s gone to sleep with the angels.”

Somehow, Nancy had gotten her upstairs and cleaned up, and she had forced her to drink cup after cup of some strong-tasting tea. She had also washed all of Annie’s clothes, although Annie never saw that particular outfit again, never having the nerve to ask the young maid what happened to it. She lay on her bed, riding wave after wave of cramping agony while in the dead of night the young servant went out and buried the poor mite who was sleeping with the angels. Annie had planted forget-me-knots in the small patch in the far end of the back garden.
Just one more grave in my life that I will never see again.

Annie felt chilled when she thought about how competently that sixteen-year-old servant had handled everything and what it revealed about Nancy’s own experiences before she came to work for Annie. But she had handled everything, and Annie had only to play the role of grieving daughter, because John never knew he had lost a child. He had never even known she was pregnant, never registered her physical changes, he was that uninterested in her.

Already in despair about this loveless marriage, Annie had wanted to save this precious news until she could tell the one man in her life she knew would truly rejoice, her father. Consequently, although she was nearly four months along, she hadn’t told anyone, not even her doctor, waiting for her father to come home from that long business trip. But her father never came home, and Annie never told anyone, not even Beatrice O’Rourke, that she had miscarried a child six years ago, a girl who had gone to sleep with the angels.

“
The many friends of the late “Charley” Williams, who was killed in the balloon accident last Sunday, have decided to tender his family a benefit on next Sunday afternoon at Woodward’s Gardens.”
—
San Francisco Chronicle
, 1879

As Nate walked towards the imposing entrance to Woodward’s Gardens, with its classical figures and California Grizzlies looking down at him, he checked his pocket watch again, as if this would change the fact that he was ten minutes late. He had started to leave the law offices early enough, but his uncle had delayed him with some damn fool question just as he was putting on his coat, so he missed the #14 car that would have gotten him there with time to spare. In her letter, Annie had said she would meet him at the bottom of the long flight of stairs that led to the main museum, which had originally been R. B. Woodward’s residence. He had hoped that if he got there early he would be able to pay her admission, but his uncle had foiled that plan as well. As he paid his own twenty-five cents and was going through the turnstile, he could see Annie across the small plaza, sitting on a bench.

When she saw him she stood up and waved, and he felt relieve that she didn’t seem upset with his lateness. As he strode over to her, Nate couldn’t help but notice with approval that Annie was wearing a navy wool coat that fit snuggly over the soft curves of her body and that the cool air had left her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling. Monday night her eyes were so dark you could barely distinguish the iris from the pupil, but today they were the shade of autumn leaves. As he apologized for his lateness, he observed she seemed distracted, so he dispensed with further niceties and asked if she wanted to enter the main grounds.