Chapter 33: Chapter 33

^July 17, 1962^

DOROTHY

Today, I turn fourteen. My mom’s baked me a vanilla cake with chocolate frosting to celebrate.

A knock on the door interrupts our celebration. It’s a special delivery for me. The postman hands me a letter, addressed to me.

The letterhead reads, Confidential, For Your Eyes Only. I take the letter and retreat to my room.

I open the letter and see it’s from my Aunt Clementine. I start reading it.

My jaw drops. I rush back to the living room, where my mom is engrossed in ~The Dick Van Dike Show~.

“Mom, who’s Clementine?” I ask.

She sighs deeply. “She’s my older sister. Why?”

I hesitate, not wanting to reveal the letter, but I can’t lie to my mom. I pull the letter from behind my back and show her.

Tears well up in her eyes. “Mom, what’s wrong?” I ask as she reaches for a tissue.

“I didn’t know my sister had passed away,” she says, dabbing her eyes with the tissue.

I knew my mom had a sister. I never met her, but mom would often talk about wanting to tell her something or explain her actions.

“You never really mentioned Aunt Clementine.”

“Something happened when you were born. I didn’t want to burden you with it. It’s my past, not yours,” she says, blowing her nose.

“But what happened?” I ask. “I think I’m old enough to know.”

She sighs again. “You are old enough now,” she says, reaching for another tissue.

“I don’t talk about my first husband. He had a temper, a very bad one. If he had a bad day, he would hit me.

“If I looked at him the wrong way, he would hit me. If I didn’t sleep with him when he wanted, he would hit me.

“So, when I met your father at the grocery store… He was kind and treated me like a queen. I would sneak away to see him while my husband was at work. We would have ~fun~ during his lunch break,” she says, making air quotes.

“Until I got pregnant with you. I knew I had to do something, so when you were born, I used your father’s last name on the birth certificate because he was your real father.

“When my husband found out, he left me and took your brother Daniel with him,” she says, wiping away more tears.

“Okay, I get that. But what does Clementine have to do with this?” I ask, holding up the letter.

“My sister was twenty years older than me. Clementine helped your grandmother when I was born. She was a nurse at the hospital.

“When I had you and Daniel, you were both born there. When Clementine found out you weren’t my husband’s child, she cut all ties. She never spoke to me again,” she says, wiping away her tears.

“I wanted to tell her about my marriage, about the nightly beatings. But for some reason, I was scared of her. Now that she’s gone, she’ll never know the truth about you and why I did what I did.”

“Then why does she want to give me her house?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I really don’t. Please, don’t go to that house,” she says, pointing at the letter. “I’ve heard stories about that house, and they’re not good.”

“What did you hear?” I ask.

“Nothing good, that’s for sure.”

***

I wait a week before bringing up the house again. I want my mom to think I’ve lost interest.

I jot down the house’s address and bike to the library. They can tell me where it is.

Turns out, it’s not that far. I hop back on my bike and ride down State Road 22 until I spot the numbers on the mailbox.

I park my bike at the start of the driveway and take a look. It’s long and dark. To my right, I see a large wall with a tarp over it.

I walk over and lift the tarp. It reads Strange Estates.

“It has my last name on the wall!” I shake my head and get back on my bike. I pedal as fast as I can down the driveway until the light at the end grows brighter.

When I reach the end, I see a beautiful house surrounded by flowers. I kick down my stand as a man steps out of the house.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was here,” I say, backing up.

“Good afternoon, Dorothy,” the man says.

“How do you know my name?” I ask.

“Your Aunt Clementine told me all about you,” he says, extending his hand for a shake. “I’m Willie Stiles, the caretaker of the property.”

“Caretaker?”

“I maintain the property inside and out until you move in,” he says.

“I don’t know if I want to move in,” I say, stepping back. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“You’re right. But I think you should look around before you make any decisions. If you have any questions, I’ll be in the garden,” he says, pointing.

“No pressure. Take all the time you need.”

I nod and watch him walk toward the garden. I look at the house and start to climb the stairs to the front door.

I explore the entire house and am amazed by its size. There are rooms within rooms.

The kitchen is as big as my entire house, complete with a spacious basement. The whole place is ten times the size of the home I share with my mom.

I discover a back door and step outside. The sound of ducks quacking draws me over a hill to a pond. There, two ducks are swimming.

“This is amazing,” I exclaim, thrilled.

I start to wander towards the front of the house and spot Mr. Stiles tending to the flowers. He notices me approaching.

“So, what do you think?” he asks.

“It’s a huge house. I wouldn’t know what to do with all this space.”

“Regardless, it’s yours now. Your Aunt Clementine only wanted you to finish school.”

“That’s still four years away,” I point out.

“Exactly. Nothing will change. I’ll still be here when you’re ready,” he assures me, watching as I hop back on my bike and head home.

^JUNE 3, 1965, GRADUATION^

Once the ceremony wraps up, I head to my room to pack my clothes. My mom walks in.

“I really wish you’d rethink this, and I know you’ve been sneaking over there with your boyfriend,” she says.

“Why? I’ve waited almost four years for this moment, and yes, I did. It has a pond on the property, and all we did was swim in it.”

“I don’t like the rumors I keep hearing about that place,” she admits.

“Like what?” I challenge, hands on my hips. “Are you going to say it’s haunted? Because I don’t care. I think you’re upset because she left it to me and not you.”

“Hold on, young lady, that’s not it at all,” she retorts, her voice stern. “People were murdered and tortured there at the hospital.”

“What hospital?”

“Never mind. I can’t stop you from going. It’s yours to do as you please,” she concedes, exiting my room.

“Mom, wait,” I call, following her. I catch up to her in the kitchen. “I’m sorry. Why don’t you move in with me? There’s more than enough room for both of us,” I suggest, grinning widely and holding her hands.

“I can’t, knowing it was my sister’s house and not being able to apologize before she passed away.”

A car horn honks outside. It’s my boyfriend, here to pick me up and take me to my new home.

“Mom, I love you, and I promise nothing will happen to me there. I’ll stop by and check on you in a few days,” I assure her, blowing her a kiss as I leave.

Outside, Christopher has the trunk open. I toss my luggage in the back.

“Is that all you’re bringing?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s all I need,” I confirm, and he nods in response.

We arrive at the house and he helps me carry my luggage upstairs. He’s perfect for me; a true gentleman, raised right by his parents.

We haven’t made love yet because he wants to wait until I turn eighteen. He wants me to be a proper lady. I can’t help but giggle every time he says that.

I wander into the kitchen and start opening cabinets, then step into the pantry. It’s stocked full of food. Willie got everything I wanted from the grocery store.

Between the excitement of the house and graduating today, I’m exhausted. I tell Christopher I’m heading to bed. He nods and tells me he’ll be in the next room.

The next morning, I wake up to sunlight streaming in through my bedroom window. I rub my eyes, get up, and pull the drapes open.

The first thing I see is Willie raking the freshly mowed grass. I get dressed and head down to the kitchen.

There’s a fresh pot of coffee on the stove. I pour myself a cup and step out onto the porch.

Willie spots me and pauses his raking, then walks to the bottom of the stairs.

“Morning, ma’am,” he greets, tipping his hat.

“Please, call me Dorothy. You calling me ~ma’am~ feels strange. You’re at least ten years older than me.”

“Alright, Dorothy. How’s the coffee?” he asks.

I glance down at the cup in my hand. “I’ve never had coffee before. My mom wouldn’t let me try it growing up.

“She always said it was the devil’s bean and that caffeine is super addictive—like a drug,” I share, smiling at the memory of her saying it just like that.

“Well, coffee is addictive, but it’s not a drug.”

“Willie?”

“Yes, Dorothy.”

“Is this place haunted?” I ask, watching as he lowers his gaze.

“It was when your Aunt Clementine was here.”

“What do you mean ~was~? Did they all just leave when she died?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Did you see them?”

“I never saw them. But, they made a lot of noise and moved the furniture around.”

“Well, I’m not scared of ghosts anyway,” I declare, taking a sip of the coffee. I grimace at the taste.

“You should be. Oh, and a tip. Add some cream and sugar to your coffee next time, it’ll help,” he suggests with a wink, then heads back to the lawn.