The Nightingale Bones by Ariel Swan

Author:Ariel Swan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2014-08-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

BACK AT THE HOUSE on White Hill, I cleared my mind by cleaning. So Verity White had been haunted. I was no closer to knowing who had buried the remains of an infant in the cellar or why. I was sure the child had not belonged to Verity White though. The destruction of the daguerreotype had been a statement. The spirit had been trying to tell me I was looking in the wrong place. I hadn’t spoken again of Samuel Nightingale to Teddy. I was still trying to swallow my mother’s confession of her knowledge of the man, and that he had married one of our ancestors. Why wasn’t there any mention of Lucinda Towne in the history? What happened to her? Did they have children? The genealogy showed no descendants from their pairing, but that didn’t mean some didn’t exist, only that Josephine had yet to find them. Maybe Teddy could help, but I wanted to wait until my mother was out of the way. At the slightest encouragement, she’d be blabbing about all our eccentricities. The last thing I needed was Teddy asking questions about my issues, or worse, advertising them.

Since that morning, a cold, dark energy had infused my body, seeming to both exhaust me and to propel me forward with an uncontrollable intensity. Josephine, in true form, read on the sofa while I worked out my anxiety with a vacuum and dust rag. Rather than assist me with the work, she instructed me in what to do and what not to do, calling out a superstitious omen for every move I made. When I dropped a knife on the floor and it clattered across the slate tile, she popped her head up and squealed, “You know what that means don’t you! A man will visit this household.” I kept on loading the dishwasher and didn’t encourage her, but stifled a smile nonetheless.

When I swept the kitchen floor and opened the door to send the dirt flying off the porch step, she screeched from the other room, “Wait, wait! It’s unlucky to sweep dirt out the front door; you must pick it up with the dust pan and carry it out.” I laughed happily, flinging the dirt off the steps with the broom anyway.

“Alice, come sit with me. Stop cleaning for God’s sake. Let’s talk a minute,” my mother called. “And don’t forget to lean the broom behind the door. It will protect the house from intruders, just in case that man on the way has bad intentions.”

I put the broom away in the kitchen closet and joined her in the living room.

“Silly girl,” my mother said. “Come and sit down. I don’t know why you won’t listen to me.”

“I’m a silly girl? You think every time someone drops a knife on the floor a romance blooms and I’m the silly one?”

Josephine pursed her lips at me and I smiled back. “You could at least humor me. I am your mother you know.” She patted the couch beside her.

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