All night I could not sleep. The house and Its mysterious family who resided in it those many years ago were running through my mind. I wanted to know more about them.
First thing in the morning, while dressing for work, I called Debbie. “I have to find out more about that house and that family. I wonder who the current owners are.”

I said as I rushed around my bedroom. “Check the mailbox,”

Debbie said. I thought excellent idea! “OK as soon as I get off work, I will go to the mailbox, get the current owners name or the proper address and look up the history of that house.”

I hung up the phone and ran out the door. I rushed through work in hopes that the day would go fast. I wanted to find out more about the family and the house. Three o clock finally arrived and I ran out, jumped in my car and headed toward the house which was only five minutes away. When I pulled up in front of it I slowed down to look at the charming fortress. How could anything horrific happen in such a beautiful place? I thought. Steadily I pulled up to the mailbox so that my car window was right next to the opening. The mailbox sat at the end of the long tree covered driveway that led up to the double front doors. What a peaceful site on such a pleasant sunny day I thought. I opened the mailbox and to my surprise there were letters in it. I pulled out the letters and looked at each one to see a name or some sort of information, and then suddenly a woman appeared standing next to the mailbox. “Do you know who the current owners are?”

she asked. I gasped as I looked up at the woman. With my mouth wide open, I noticed an old white truck parked nose to nose with my car. I was beyond amazed. I did not even hear her pull up. Where did she come from? She was a pretty young black woman dressed in a blue skirt and shirt uniform with an island accent. Then I thought oh God, she’s a postal worker. I am committing a federal offense. As I put the letters back in the box I started to apologize, “I’m sorry. I wanted to know who the present owners are also.”

She replied, “Yes, I want to know too where the owners of the house are now.”

Then she turned around, headed to the truck and got in. She backed the truck up and headed up the driveway, parking right behind her truck. I just watched in bewilderment. Out of sheer curiosity, I began to follow her but I stopped and stood by my car anxious and mystified. She turned toward me and shouted, “come on!”

as she opened the doors and walked in. I could not control myself. It was as if I was under a spell. Without a word, I followed her into the house and stopped in the foyer gazing in awe somehow forgetting about the woman for a moment. Oh how I wished my eyes were a camera. I wanted to save this moment forever. The sunlight shined through the window glistening off the white marble stairway. The white walls surrounding the two story white marble fireplace, was a remarkable sight. The floor was made up of white glossy tile that was sparkling clean. What a heavenly place this is I thought and although I had not paid much attention to where the woman went, I just knew she was upstairs in the little girl’s room and did not care. Nevertheless I was in a state of awe. As I stood there, time seemed to have stopped. I kept imagining enchanting parties in the giant living room or Christmas holidays with my family in front of the white fireplace. In the midst of my daydreaming, the woman appeared in front of me this time wearing an apron. “Let’s go, everyone is alright.”

She said and like a lemming I followed her out the door with saying a word. “Oh by the way, I am Bessie.”

She said looking in my eyes and then walked away. I just stood there, not saying a word and keeping my eye on her as she headed toward her vehicle. She started to pull away and waved and smiled back at me. I waved back but watched her go down the driveway in hopes to see which way she came from. As she turned left out of the driveway, her vehicle disappeared. Shaken, I ran to my car and just sat in it, mouth dropped. What just happened? Where did she go? At first I could not move, and then I looked in my rear view mirror at the front doors and then drove off witlessly in fear. I drove out of the neighborhood as fast as I could. As soon as I was on the main road I pulled into the first gas station. I had to catch my breath. I could not compute what just happened. I picked up my cell phone and called Debbie. I told her all about what happened with the woman and how she just appeared and disappeared. Debbie was quiet for a instant and then replied calmly, “Sounds like another person who might have lived in the house. Maybe that old man neighbor knows the one who lives next door.”

Then I remembered who she was talking about, “Do you mean John?”

I asked. “Yes, he seems to know a lot about the house and the people who lived in it.”

Still in shock, I took Debbie’s advice and drove back to the neighborhood. This time I passed the house and parked in front of John’s house. I pulled up and got out of my car. I started walking up the driveway; John came out of his house. He did not look happy to see me. “Hi remember me?

I asked friendlily. “Yes I remember you; I see you were in the house again.”

I felt uncomfortable as if he was not pleased about me being in the house. “The woman let me in.”

I said defensively. “What woman?”

he asked as if he was becoming irritated. “The woman in the blue uniform driving the white truck. She drove up the driveway ahead of me. She let me into the house!”

John put his hands on his hips as if he did not believe me, “I only saw you. I did not see a white van. I did not see another person. Only you and your car.”

He said raising his voice a bit. Both of us stayed quiet for a minute, I wondered if I was maybe dreaming all of this. Even in my dream state, I wanted to know more. So I asked John with a soft voice” Listen, you knew the family that died here, right?”

John nodded looking down at the ground. “Did a young black woman named Bessie who wore an apron ever live there?”

John lifted his head and looked poignant. “Yes, she was the first nanny to live there. She was the last nannies aunt.”

As if he was in a daze, he kept talking, “She raised the little girl's mother in that house. I remember her because I went to her funeral. I remember when she died.”

I started to feel sorry for John but my curiosity got the better of me. “Her funeral? What happened to her?”

I asked. “She died when I first moved here. She was only 42. Never married, no children. She became very ill and just died. Then her niece took over as nanny and things were never the same again.”

John seemed as if he was ready to cry. “Why did you go to the funeral? How well did you know her?”

I asked, wondering how well he knew her. John looked up into my eyes obviously very upset and without a word turned around, walked back into his house and slammed the door behind him. It was then that I realized John was an important link to the house and its mysterious past. I also knew this was not my last meeting with John.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 20.05.2009

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