The Room on Whitaker Street - 1

“Natalie?” Mary Ellen said as she slid over to cradle the woman’s head.  She glanced at Jason who met her look with an equally astounded gaze.  The woman was quickly coming around and her eyes again widened with she saw Mary Ellen and she tried to shrink away from her.  “I’m not Natalie, I’m Mary Ellen.”1

The woman’s eyes were still wide as she looked from Mary Ellen to Jason and then back.  She was struggling now to sit up and Mary Ellen helped her.2

“Is Natalie the girl in the picture in that room?” Jason finally asked.  “And if so, who is she?”  3

Now the woman seemed to want to concentrate on Jason and ignore Mary Ellen as she turned her back in that direction.  “Yes,” she answered hesitantly, as though admitting it was somehow revealing a closely held secret.  “Natalie was the daughter of the original Whitakers, who built this house.  She was my great-great aunt.”  She paused for a moment, either catching her breath or trying to decide whether to continue, Jason couldn’t be sure which.  “She disappeared,” she finally said, “and was never found.  No one had any idea of what happened to her.”4

“But how did her picture get on the wall in that room?”  Mary Ellen asked.5

Without turning, the woman spoke again.  “No one ever knew for sure.  And if they did, they never would tell.”  Suddenly she stopped and her eyes narrowed as she looked at Jason, his face barely visible in the glow from the flashlight.  “I don’t know why I should tell you two any of this,” she said very quietly.  “You’re really nothing but intruders.”6

“You’re right,” Jason agreed.  “We just need to leave.”  He waved the flashlight at Mary Ellen who stood up, realizing what Jason was doing.7

She put her hand on the woman’s shoulder, nearly forcing her to turn and look at her.  She bent, her face just a foot or so from the woman’s.  “We’re sorry we’ve intruded,” she said apologetically to the woman who now couldn’t keep from looking at Mary Ellen.8

“No,” the woman said suddenly.  “There’s some reason you’re here, that it’s you and not someone else.  Look at you.  You’re Natalie . . . except that you’re not.”  Then she took a deep breath.  “Let’s go up to my room and talk.”9

Mary Ellen took her hand and helped her to her feet, amazed at how broad her shoulders were, how strong she was, yet how pretty and feminine she seemed.  She had never seen or met anyone quite like that so it just surprised her.  They went up the steps and down the hall to the end room and through the door.  The woman stepped around them and closed the door, then, suddenly, the room was flooded with light and they all squinted.10

“This room is fixed so that the light won’t show outside,” she said looking from one to the other.  Then she smiled self-consciously.  “This is strange,” she said, “being here with you two now – after what I did before.”  She turned to Mary Ellen.  “I wouldn’t have hurt you,” she said haltingly.  “I just wanted to scare you, so you’d leave and not come back.  I didn’t realize . . . “  She paused and smiled again.  “I had no way of knowing how persistent you’d be.”11

“Can you just tell us who you are,” Jason questioned.12

And, with that simple question, the woman, Caroline, began her tale, seemingly almost eager to tell who she was, where she’d come from, how she’d inherited the house, come to see it in secret, been fascinated by what she heard about it, and then decided to find out for herself whether what people said was true.  Unwilling to let others know what she was doing, she had moved in secretly, fixing this room where she could live, using the money from her trust fund that was more than adequate to live on and exploring the old place at her leisure.  She told them how many others had visited the house but they were the first to get inside although she had been sure it would happen eventually and was therefore prepared for it.13

Jason continued to probe, asking questions which drew out the entire story and Mary Ellen sat there quietly marveling at this guy who had just told her that he loved her.  She watched his mouth, his eyes, the way he gestured with his hands, amazed at how he had really taken to this adventure that she was sure he had been hesitant about at the start.  Seeing him, thinking about him this way caused her mind to wonder, to move ahead in time and imagine all sorts of things that they would do together, even to the point that she was sure her face was tinged with pink at least twice.  She remembered sitting in her room and writing Mary Ellen McKeever over and over on a piece of paper, then tearing it into small pieces and throwing it in trash.  Now, as she dreamed, she realized it might not have been silly schoolgirl stuff but actually practice for the future.  A future that she was now planning on sharing with this . . .  She was suddenly aware that they were both looking at her with puzzled expressions.  Once more her face reddened slightly.14

“Sorry,” she said.  “I was just thinking.”15

“Caroline was just asking if there was any way that your family could have connection to the Whitakers since you look so much like Natalie.”16

“Not that I know of at all.  Mother has lived here all her life and so did her parents, and I think my great grandparents too.  Dad is from Oregon though.”17

“Let me ask you something then,” Caroline said, turning toward her.18

Mary Ellen was again amazed at the beauty of those dark, dark eyes and the auburn hair.  “Sure,” she replied.  “I’ll answer if I can.”19

“What did you feel when you went in that room, which incidentally, is not in the basement but is totally separate from the rest of the house.”20

Mary Ellen paused and pondered, watching those dark, but very gentle eyes and wondering about Caroline and her house, wondering if she was indeed telling them the truth.  Did she have some reason not to tell the truth?  She seemed honest and sincere now and Mary Ellen wished she had listened more carefully when she was explaining things to Jason.  Despite what she was saying and how she was saying it, there was a problem totally accepting someone who not too long ago had smothered her into unconsciousness.21

“I guess I felt . . . different somehow.  There’s no other way to explain it.  Just different.  Of course I was terrified when I first saw the picture and wondered how someone could have known to paint me there.  But Jason showed me it was old and I felt a little better, but still strange.  Even though I didn’t recognize anything, it was like I’d been there before – or at least somewhere very much like it.”22

“Me too,” Caroline responded.  “I was here nearly a year before I found that room.  You probably didn’t notice but the door to the outside where you left is totally hidden in thick bushes.  You can’t see it until you’re about two feet away.  And the hidden stairway I found quite accidently.  There’s a picture on the wall that hangs on the release mechanism.  You have to pull down on the picture to release the door.  I stumbled one day and grabbed that picture to catch myself and there it was.  I was hiding there the first night you came and hadn’t closed it well when I jumped out to grab . . . “  She stopped again, obviously upset by what had happened – or at least she was acting that way.23

“It amazes me that you’ve been able to be here this long without anyone knowing about it,” Mary Ellen ventured.24

“Well, I’m not here all the time.  I go back “home” sometimes.  But, when I’m here I’m very careful.  I have my car in a rented garage close by and I only go out very late at night, usually early in the morning.  There are plenty of 24 hours places now so I get along.  I’m careful and have figured out how to get in and out unseen.  So far it’s worked,” she said, then smiled again.  “Well, almost.”25

“And yet, you say that you aren’t responsible for the tapping and that strange laughter,” boring in on the issue that was obviously concerning him most.26

“No,” she said, shaking her head emphatically.  “That’s why I’m still here.  I’m a believer that there are logical explanations for everything if you’re just diligent enough to search them out.”27

Suddenly there was a horrendous crash and the sound of smashing glass that echoed through the old house.  All three jumped up and raced to the door, Caroline getting there first and throwing it open.  The hallway was littered with broken glass that sparked in the light from the doorway.  All three stared up at a gaping hole in the ceiling of the hallway beneath which were the shattered remains of the huge chandelier that had hung there for nearly 100 years and which was now spread from one end of the hallway to the other.28