Sometime Yesterday (13 page)

“Dad says no biggie,” she said when she found them in the kitchen.

“That’s wonderful,” said Natalie right before her mother nodded her assent.

Van smiled. “Great. You can follow me over when we’re done here for the day.” She could clean up there because she kept clothes in her old room at her father’s house. “Would you like to see where we started out here?”

Natalie took Van’s outstretched hand. “I’d love to.”

*

Natalie and her mother waited for Van on the wide, comfortable porch when she got waylaid by a customer. “I love this place,” said Natalie. “It’s so charming.”

“Sorry about that.” Van led them through the hall. “We’re here,” she called up the stairs.

“Come in, come in.”

Natalie reached the top first. “Hello, sir. I’m Natalie and this is my mother, Colleen.” She was struck by how much Van resembled her father.

“It’s so nice to meet you.” He shook both their hands. “I’m Victor. Please, sit.”

“Your place is wonderful,” Natalie’s mother said.

“Thank you. Now, what can I get you to drink?”

Van excused herself to shower then Natalie sat next to her mother on the sofa. Victor came back in with stuffed mushrooms on a silver tray.

“I love these.” Natalie popped one into her mouth.

Her mother took a dainty little bite. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” She smiled. “But I’m glad you did.”

He blushed. “It’s not often I have a house full of beautiful women. I heard your husband had an accident? I hope he’s okay.”

“I appreciate you asking. He’ll be fine. I’ve been telling him to fix that old step for years.”

Natalie felt a little rush when Van appeared in the doorway. Her hair was slicked back; she was wearing tight faded jeans and a plain white shirt. Natalie understood in the moment what the term masculine beauty meant. Van was all hard muscle and soft curves at the same time. It made her mouth water. Natalie barely caught herself from sighing out loud, but still couldn’t tear her gaze away from Van’s.

“Smells good, Dad.”

“It’s just about done,” he said. “We can go ahead and sit in the dining room.”

Natalie and her mother helped bring out the food. When they were all seated, Victor began his story without any preamble.

“This is what I know, or have been told over the years. Our family has lived in this area for oh, about five generations. Bayside was little more than a fishing village a hundred years ago. One of the locals, Robert Seeley, moved to San Francisco where he met and married the rich daughter of a man who made a fortune during the gold rush.”

He pointed his fork at Natalie. “It was Robert who built your house for his wife. I tried talking to your grandpa, Vanessa. It was not one of his good days. So you might try him later for more details as it was
his
grandpa who worked on the estate.”

“My grandpa has Alzheimer’s,” Van explained.

“I’m so sorry,” said Natalie. “That must be so difficult for you.”

“He’s turning ninety this year. He told us that he’s had a wonderful life and if he gets stuck in the past sometimes, it must be because he felt it was worth reliving.”

“That’s a wonderfully positive way to look at it,” said Natalie’s mother.

He smiled. “It is. And he insists on it. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I have to fast forward here. Sometime in the nineteen twenties or so, Richard Seeley, the only son, brought home his wife, Elizabeth. Some said she was no more than a child, maybe fifteen at the most. There was whispering being done behind hands, rumors of assault and brutal violence happening in the home. These were hard times for women in those days when they were little better than property and had no rights. But the servants had their own gossip network and the story was passed down about the rich people up on the cliff.”

Natalie was fascinated with the story. When she felt Van’s hand grip her own under the table, she had a moment of completeness. That she was in the right place at the right time doing exactly what she wanted. It was an incredible new feeling. She leaned slightly into Van’s shoulder. Van’s father poured more wine and passed the bottle.

“Now, Richard had the reputation of being a ruthless man with no morals or feelings. According to the servants, Beth never left the house. She was, for all intents and purposes, a prisoner up there and the story is that he beat her without mercy.”

“Asshole,” Van hissed.

“I’ll second that,” said Natalie.

Her mother lifted her glass. “Third.”

“Goes without saying,” he said. “Seems the only friend that poor young Beth had was Sarah, Richard’s sister. As an interesting side note and validation for Richard’s cruelty, Sarah herself had fled the house the same day she turned eighteen. But she returned for Richard’s wedding and stayed for a time. Then Sarah returned to France, where she’d been living.”

Natalie drew back, surprised. “You’re saying that Sarah left the house?” She looked over to her mother who also had a questioning look on her face. “Sarah left Beth?” Natalie recalled her dream and the deep love they had for each other. That didn’t sound right at all, but she kept quiet while Van’s father continued.

“No one ever saw her again. Later, around that time, Richard and Beth had a son, Henry. Yes, I believe that’s right. Anyway, when he was just a small child, Beth ran away with another man.”

“And who could blame her?” asked Van.

“Not me,” answered her father. “The servants never believed it and suspected foul play, but there were no official accusations.”

“During the time period they lived in, if enough money crossed greedy palms, evil deeds could be hushed quite effectively.” Nat’s mother nodded.

“Indeed,” he said. “After Beth disappeared, Richard closed up the house and moved to New York. The house was empty for years until Richard came back. Town gossip says he returned and shut himself up in the house, never leaving it. According to the locals, he was flat out crazy. Some believed it was guilt that drove him to insanity. It’s said that he would stand in the turret room windows and stare at the sea, laughing for hours.

“They found old Richard Seeley dead by the fountain one day, covered in dirt. Henry, the son, never set foot on the property. He sold it through the agency in town. That must have been sometime in the nineteen forties, shortly before I was born.

“Most of this story is all hearsay. After getting the gist of it from my father, I called my brothers and asked them what they remembered as well.

“Over the years, there have been several owners. But it has stood empty more often than not. No one ever stays for long.” He paused and considered for a moment. “Well now, Natalie, I hope I’m not scaring you.”

She felt a slight chill but laughed anyway. “Oh, we O’Donnells take these things in stride.”

Her mother explained. “When my mother visited, we had séances instead of playing bridge.”

Natalie missed her Nana, who died when she was nineteen. She and her mother had always accepted the validity of ghosts. No one ever raised even an eyebrow when there was an empty place setting at the dinner table for dead relatives. Sometimes it was a little spooky, but Natalie didn’t ever remember being very scared by spirits. Then again, they hadn’t been sadistic wife beaters either.

Natalie was still curious as to why Sarah and Beth chose her to play out their story. At this point, she felt a little helpless for them. It’s not as if she could change anything while they were alive and living through Richard’s reign of terror. She sincerely hoped that the house cleansing had rid the house of his violent energy and that it gave Beth and Sarah some peace. She ignored the prickly feeling on her neck and tried to convince herself.

Van helped clear the table then sat with her father after Natalie and her mother insisted on doing the dinner dishes. “That was a fascinating story, Dad. I had no idea that you knew so much about the mansion.”

“Like I said earlier, I talked with your uncles. It turned out that John had the most information and a family tree to boot. I was surprised myself.”

“Odd how history slips away from us in such a relatively short period of time, you know?”

“Your Natalie seems like a very nice woman.”

Van smiled. “She is.”

“You like her.”

“I do.”

“Really, Vanessa, you need to quit chattering. I can’t get a word in edgewise.”

“Ha ha, Dad.” Van considered what to say. She heard Natalie laugh in the other room and was struck by how comfortable she felt hearing it. She did like Natalie, very much, and enjoyed her company. Actually, she felt entranced. Van felt a little anxious about the revelation. She hadn’t bothered to look beneath the surface of any woman she’d been with in the last six years, and her heart seized a little. She was attracted to Natalie, almost painfully so. But underneath that, Van realized she wanted to know much more about her. That scared her to death.

Natalie came out of the kitchen. “Where’s the little girls’ room?”

“I’ll show you. It’s this way.” She took Natalie’s hand and pulled her into the hallway. Van waited outside the door and when she came out, tugged her into the bedroom across the hall. “Finally,” Van said and wrapped her up. “A minute alone with you.”

Natalie smiled. “Hmm. Let’s not waste it.”

Van kissed her, softly at first because she meant to keep it gentle, but desire overtook her intention when Natalie’s tongue flicked across her lips. Van caught it and sucked and felt Natalie’s knees dip. “You like that?”

She heard a soft little sigh in response. “Yes.”

Van held on to Natalie and started to move backward toward the bed, then through her sexual haze realized their parents were in the living room. But it wasn’t as if Natalie was fighting it. It took a huge effort on her part, but Van let her go.

“I want you so much, Natalie,” Van leaned and whispered in her ear. “But when I take you?”

Natalie’s eyes were wide. “When you take me?”

“I want you to be able to scream.”

“Oh. My. God,” Natalie said. “I repeat, omigod.”

Natalie’s mother knocked on the door. “Honey? I’m sorry, but we have to go now. My flight is early.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll be right there.” Natalie kissed Van. “Play date is over.”

Van laughed. “I’ll walk you out. We’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

“Absolutely.” Natalie stopped in front of the dresser. Van’s high school sports trophies and pictures still littered every available surface. She turned and smiled. “The jock?”

Van laughed. “Yes. Letterman.”

Natalie looked sad for a moment. “You wouldn’t have looked at me twice. I was the geek.”

“You underestimate yourself and me.”

Natalie continued to look at the pictures. “And this one?” She pointed to a photo of Cara that was stuck in the mirror frame.

Van paused. “We’ll talk more at dinner.” She opened the door, steering her away from the picture and into the living room where her mother was waiting and thanking Van’s father for the amazing dinner and story.

Van kissed her father’s cheek before seeing Natalie and her mother to their car. She wanted to go home and think by herself. Her father would only pepper her with questions if she stayed, and she didn’t know if, or how, she was going to answer them yet.

*

Natalie and her mother talked about what they’d learned when they got home. “I just don’t buy that Sarah left.”

“Or,” her mother said, “that Beth ran off.”

“And still, nobody has mentioned being haunted by them.” Natalie curled her legs underneath her and sipped her tea. “I mean, why me? Why now? It can’t just be that I look like her.”

“Beth was a child bride terrorized by a sadistic husband who apparently abused his sister, Sarah, as well. It doesn’t seem farfetched that they would find love for each other.”

Natalie recalled her dream of the passionate scene in the studio and shifted slightly in her seat. “There has to be another connection, doesn’t there?”

“Spirits don’t always play by our rules, Natalie. We might never know the whole story.”

Natalie refused to believe that. It was frustrating to only have pieces of the puzzle. “Could it be that I’ve finally admitted my own lesbianism?”

“That sounds logical, and that very well may be a connection. I’ve never seen you this comfortable or happy.”

Natalie laughed. “I don’t feel relaxed. I’m wound up tighter than a guitar string.”

“Your spirit is happy, baby. It shows.”

“Thank you, Mom.” Natalie hugged her. “We better turn in.”

Natalie said good night at her mother’s door and went into her own room.

The window was wide open.

She had a momentary little shock then remembered she’d wished for the women to stay with her. As long as they rid the house of the dark man, she could live with the residual feminine energy.

Natalie took a shower before going to bed. When she saw her pretty new dress hanging on the door she recalled the scene in the dressing room. Mary was right, she thought. The seed was planted. She sat at her old-fashioned vanity and braided her wet hair. She tried to honestly appraise the woman looking back at her. Thirty-two wasn’t old. Hell, these days fifty was the new thirty, right? Well, that practically made her a teenager!