Fallen Stones (49 page)

"See?" she questioned again. "Murder-suicide. Marie killed the boys and Dwight killed her then himself; all because of his affair with YOUR great grandmother."

Jason thought for a moment about how he should proceed. He assumed any newspaper article printed in that day and age would have only dealt with the facts of the case and would not have gone into anything such as an affair or illegitimate child.

After reading the article Jason stood quietly shaking his head. "Yes, Steph, you're right." he said, trying to sound convincing. "It just so awful; I'm certain the newspaper would not have lied."

"Of course they wouldn't have. They reported the facts as they were discovered."

Jason decided to take a chance based on his assumption about the newspaper. "But the article didn't say anything about any affair or any illegitimate child."

Stephanie said, "Of course not! They would never print such a thing! But you can plainly see it in Marie's journal entry. She knew about the baby and about your great-grandmother. You can tell by her writing the news was slowly driving her crazy. It was that affair which caused her to lose her mind and eventually kill her boys."

Jason had to be extra careful how he proceeded from that point on out. "But, Steph. Look. Just because Marie suspected something, doesn't mean it actually happened. She may have imagined the whole thing. Just because she put her feelings down on paper, that doesn't mean its factual information. It may have been real in her mind but still not true."

"It most certainly was true, Jason," Stephanie retorted. She could not understand why Jason was in denial and having such difficulty accepting facts, which were right in front of his face. She had known he might not react well to hearing the news but to try to pretend the facts were mere hallucinations was ridiculous. "Didn't you read what she wrote about how she heard all of the local women gossiping about Dwight and Agatha? The truth is spelled out on those pages in her own words and in her own handwriting? What more proof could you possibly want?"

But there was nothing spelled out on those blank pages. Whatever Stephanie believed she had read was all in her own mind. He had no idea how those thoughts had found their way into her head, but he knew they were nothing but fantasies. He was doing his best to restrain his anger but he wanted to shove the pages in her face and scream, "These are blank pages!  There is no letter from Marie!" But he knew he couldn't be the one to do something so terrible to the woman he loved with all of his heart. When he spoke of Marie's hallucinations, he was actually speaking about Stephanie's but he could not bring himself to confront her directly about it.

"Look, Steph," Jason said. "I am willing to accept what you told me about the murder and suicide, but the rest I cannot accept without more solid evidence. He wondered to himself if it were possible to do a blood test and determine if he and Stephanie were distantly related. He believed it could be done. That would surely provide proof, assuming he really wanted to know the truth.  

Behind the couple in the shadows, the mirror above their dresser began to ripple slightly and a thin, bony finger covered with gray shriveled flesh extended and pointed directly at Stephanie.

Suddenly Stephanie said, "Well then. Maybe we will have to arrange to have a blood test to see if any of this is true. That should be proof positive.

Jason was shocked to hear her repeat the very same thought he was just having but had not spoken aloud. What in the world had made her think of a blood test? It was almost as if she could read his mind or like someone else was putting the ideas in her mind. Jason suddenly felt as if someone was watching him or more accurately, watching the both of them. He quickly turned around and thought he saw some slight movement in the shadows behind him near the mirror on the dresser. But if it had been there it was now gone. Everything looked as it had been. He decided it would be best if he could continue to humor Stephanie until he could figure out at better way to deal with everything.

"Well then...maybe we should," he said, appearing to agree with her idea. "Or maybe we can have our DNA tested. One of those tests should confirm or deny your assumptions about all of this." He looked down again at the blank sheets of paper and still feeling as if he needed to protect her obviously fragile mind. "It's just that I can't simply believe what someone wrote in a journal almost a hundred years ago, and I don't know of any other way to resolve this once and for all."

"Neither do I," she replied. "We can schedule something sometime soon.” But they would never have the blood test. Unknown to them at that time, they were about to enter a very unpleasant phase of their marriage and would not be communicating civilly enough in the upcoming month to agree on anything.  

"For now," she said, "I have to go back to the loft now and type Marie's journal entry into my genealogical document and scan the newspaper article as well. This is probably one of the most important discoveries of my entire project."

Jason was curious about what Stephanie would end up typing from the blank sheets. He realized once she had finished, he would be able to, at the very least, read what Stephanie believed she had seen in the imagined journal entries. Once he could see exactly what she had fantasized, he might be better able to counter any argument she might come up with. But with only blank sheets in front of him, he had no idea what to do.

"But what about dinner?" Jason tried to say, wanting to do anything he could do to keep her from going back to the loft. Once he had thought the loft as a great relaxing place for Stephanie's creativity. Now however, he saw it as part of the growing problem whittling away at his wife's sanity.

Stephanie replied dismissively, "I'm not hungry. There's too much work to be done. Much, too much work to be done."

And with that, she carefully picked up the papers and gingerly tucked them back into the manila envelope, which she placed under her arm as she headed for the door. When she had passed through the doorway, she turned and looked back at Jason with kind concern saying, "Look, Jason. I know this might make things a bit weird, us being related and all... But I want you to know it doesn't have to change a thing between...well between us. No matter what our lineage, we are not Dwight and Marie Livingston, we are us. All of this is...well it's just history, water under the bridge. You and I can still be the same. Right?"

Jason gave his best, most convincing smile to his deranged wife nodding his head and replying, "Um...ahh...yeah...ahh...yes...you...you bet, Steph. You and I are fine, and our family is fine as well... You're right... Why don't you go back to your work... I'll see you later at bedtime."

But Jason knew things were not fine. Things were so far away from fine that he wondered if they could ever be fine again. His lovely wife had suffered some sort of mental breakdown and he had to do something about it, but what that might be. He just didn't know.

 

Chapter 35

 

It was late Wednesday afternoon of December 19. It was young Samuel Wright's second birthday and just a week before Christmas, but one would never know it by looking around the Wright home. There was no Christmas tree, no decorations and nothing to suggest the upcoming holiday. Likewise, there were no plans to celebrate Sammy's birthday; no balloons, gifts or birthday cake could be found. A rift had developed between Stephanie and Jason since their discussion about the family secret and since that day, the couple had found it difficult, if not impossible to have any sort of civil conversation. They spoke when they needed to for issues concerning the kids, but other than that, the couple had started to drift further apart each day. Almost all communication had broken down to a point of non-existence.

Stephanie sat at her computer, carefully reviewing and editing her almost completed document. It was far more than a simply a document, however; it was an actual book, a detailed history of both sides of her and Jason's families starting at the present and going back to their great grandparents. The work was not only made up of text but was a combination of text, photos and charts, complete with scanned images of many of their family members dating back almost one hundred years. It had taken her months of dedicated time and energy to compile everything, and she was probably more proud of it than of anything she had ever previously done.

And it was not a typical family history laden with facts and statistics but was an emotional account of the tragedy, which had befallen the Livingston clan. It read like a novel, its story being told with all of the passion required to allow the reader to experience exactly what had happened on that eventful day. It also explained how a series of coincidental events eventually led Stephanie to inherit the property and discover the tragic family secret. Stephanie had made a point of not glossing over any of the unpleasant details, and as a result, to some it might have read more like a narrative work of fiction than a historical account.

Stephanie knew that, in Jason's opinion, it actually was nothing more than a work of fiction. He would not accept the fact that his great-grandmother had played such a crucial role in almost destroying Stephanie's side of the family. But whether he believed her account or not was of no consequence to Stephanie, because she knew everything in it was completely factual, and that was all that really mattered. That is to say the facts had been real enough in Stephanie's mind; however, she hadn't been the one controlling the presentation of those facts.  

Her book included the image of Dwight and Marie's wedding photo. It was not quite as clear as she would have preferred since she was required to photograph the large portrait with her digital camera then put that particular image onto the computer. The original portrait was no longer stored in the attic but now hung proudly on the wall in Stephanie's loft. It didn't bother her any more how the couples' eyes seemed to follow her wherever she moved in the room. In fact, now the strange eyes made her feel assured, as if her great-grandparents were watching over her and guiding her in the project. Little did she know that was exactly what they were doing; that and so much more.

From deep inside the mirror, the ghost of Marie Livingston watched unseen, occasionally sending out her particles of mind control to keep Sammy locked in his world of imagination and to keep Stephanie focused on her work. But there was much more involved in Marie's actions than just controlling the day-to-day activities of her two descendants. She was gradually instilling a new reality in Stephanie's brain; the reality which would be required for completion of the final phase of their unholy plan.

The book also contained the text of the newspaper article from December 20, 1922, as well as from the journal entry Marie had written. Before Jason and Stephanie had stopped speaking, he had asked to read her transcript of Marie's journal. He told Stephanie it was to refresh his memory. As she watched him read the document, it almost seemed to Stephanie as if it was the first time he had actually seen the
words.  
 

Later in the family history book, Stephanie embellished on Marie's original writings by describing in detail the events of that dreadful night.  
 

When Jason read her account of the Amelia Miller incident, he was shocked to discover the areas Stephanie described had matched exactly to the places where he had found the fallen tombstones. Then his stomach sank when he saw she had even included sketches depicting the actual grave markers he had seen, complete with the inscriptions exactly as they had been carved. Jason had no idea how she could have possibly been able to create such an accurate rendering having never seen the stones herself; stones which he had personally smashed to pieces and buried.

Jason believed something strange was going on; some unidentifiable source was feeding his wife a mixture of small amounts of factual information along with a larger amount of absolute lies. By doing so, this person had convinced Stephanie everything was true.  

In Stephanie's mind, Jason was still refusing to believe what she told him.  Just a week earlier, he even had the nerve to lie outright and claim the original papers she had shown him containing Marie's journal entry were not brittle old parchment written in Marie's hand but were actually blank sheets of modern printer paper. She couldn't believe he would lie so blatantly and make such an outlandish claim.          

 Since that time however, things had become increasingly strained between them.

Stephanie was standing at her computer screen looking closely at the various scanned pictures of her ancestors now on display.
  
                  
 

Sammy sat on the floor staring at the same video he had been watching daily for several months. His face still wore the same look of ecstasy as was now commonplace, while his mind wandered through the fictional landscape of amazing childhood pleasures.

There was a foul stench of urine and feces permeating the room because the boy was unknowingly sitting in a pile of his own filth, which was leaking from a gap in the side of his saturated diaper. Stephanie's complete immersion into her historical project had delayed the start of young Sammy's potty training by several months, which was just fine with her. It was much less trouble to simply slap a diaper or training pants on the boy and then plop him down in front of the television. She usually remembered to check on him periodically and change him as necessary, but even that responsibility had fallen by the wayside. Today she was far too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice or even care about her own son's hygienic needs. She knew she would have to make sure he was presentable by dinnertime as she did every evening, although she suspected Jason would not be home for dinner again tonight.

There was also an additional odor barely noticeable but nonetheless present lurking just below the surface. Unknown to Stephanie, this foul stench was the reek of death, signaling the approach of the heinous creatures that were the architects of the scheme, which they were about to make real.