Mothers and Babies

Lisa’s stomach churned as the car swerved and lurched.

“Can I take this blindfold off now? I’m going to be sick.”

“In just a moment.”

Her seatbelt jerked tight as the car stopped abruptly. Murphy, their large brown mutt, panted happily in the back seat.

“Ta da! Here we are.”

Todd whipped the blindfold off her eyes. Squinting, she gazed around, trying to get her bearings. They were in front of a severe grey stone house with high gables. Todd beamed.

“What do you think?”

“Where are we? Why all the mystery?”

He bowed as he opened the door.

“My fair lady. It’s for sale and in our price range. Let’s check it out.”

Grinning, he dangled a key in front of her. Lisa followed him through knee high grass, Murphy bounding alongside. Although the door’s paint was blistered and peeling, the key turned easily. The door opened to reveal a large hallway with a tiled floor, wood-paneled walls and a wide staircase rising at the rear. Todd pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out.

“Here’s the description. It was built in 1900. There are two reception rooms with bay windows, large dining room, bathroom, kitchen and scullery on this floor.”

The air was musty, but there was no sign of dampness. They ascended the bare wooden stairs, Todd jumping from step to step.

“No creaks or squeaks. They built to last in those days. Look at this master bedroom.”

“I’d love to get out of that shoe box we’re living in, but this is in the middle of nowhere,” Lisa said, gazing around the room. It did have elegant molding on the ceiling and a nice view over the front garden down towards the woods.

“There’s a path to the village that way through the trees,” Todd said. “Driving up from the village takes longer because the road is so twisty. There are four bedrooms and another bathroom here and attic space too. That must be the ladder to the attic.”

He tugged at a chain dangling from a trapdoor in the hall ceiling, but it stubbornly refused to budge.

“I’ll ask the agent about that,” he said, dusting his hands. “What do you think?”

Lisa gazed around, frowning.

“Why is it so cheap?”

“It belongs to the church, but pastors don’t want to live in a big place like this nowadays. The church just wants to get rid of it. I was thinking we could do Airbnb. There’s a lot of outdoor recreation around here, hiking and canoeing. I knew you’d be skeptical, so I’ve crunched the numbers and got the building inspection. It’s solid. It just needs cosmetic work,”

He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and flipped it open. Lisa scanned columns of figures, stepped back and focused on him.

“Who are you?” she said. “You look like my husband, but I’ve never known him to work out practical details of his crazy ideas.”

Todd snatched the notebook back, scowling. Murphy whined at the change in atmosphere.

“Crazy ideas?”

Lisa smiled and hugged him.

“Remember when we were going to sail around the world, or start a llama farm? I love that you think outside the box, but the fine print always seemed to escape you. Another question. If this was the minister’s house, where’s the church?”

“It burned down years ago. Rather than rebuild, they merged the congregation with the church in the next village. Another reason they don’t need the house,” Todd said.

“Okay. You’ve done your homework,” Lisa said after a long pause. “I’m game to try. Worse case scenario, we flip it.”

“Yes!” Todd said, sweeping her into a bear-hug. “Come on. I’m going to take you out to celebrate.”

Murphy raced around them, his tail wagging.

The months after they moved into the house were a blur of painting, sanding, refinishing and gardening. The locals in the village were friendly but reserved.

"Making conversation around here is like pulling teeth," Lisa said. "Especially if I ask anything about the history of the house."

“They probably think we’ve got a screw loose to even attempt something like this,” said Todd. “They’re waiting for us to run back to the city after six months with our tails between our legs.”

“At least Bob the mailman is sociable,” said Lisa.

“Yes, he’s probably relaying all the scoop on the crazy city folks to the village,” said Todd dryly.

Lisa put her job on hold in order to work on the house. As a self-employed documentary filmmaker, her income was sporadic, to say the least. Todd made a good salary as an engineer. He worked as much as he could, including weekends and out-of-town assignments, pouring every penny into the house. Lisa lay alone in bed yet again one windy autumn evening, staring at the plaster motifs on the bedroom ceiling, wondering what they had got themselves into. She pulled the blankets tighter as the wind sobbed and moaned outside. Murphy suddenly woke and leapt out of his bed, whining.

“What is it, boy?” Lisa said, heart pounding. He raced out into the hallway and stared at the trapdoor to the attic, growling. Lisa threw on her robe and followed him. She heard a scrabbling, pattering noise above her head as the wind momentarily died down. Todd had finally managed to get the trapdoor to the attic open, but after going up there once, they had retreated, daunted by dusty stacks of books, boxes and miscellaneous junk. A project for another day.

“Come on, Murphy,” she said, dragging the reluctant dog back to the bedroom and shutting the door firmly behind them.

“Todd can deal with whatever critter that is when he gets back.”

The following day dawned bright and clear. Lisa would have thought the whole episode had been a dream if Murphy had not bristled every time he crossed the hallway below the trapdoor. Finally, she could stand it no more. With effort, she pulled the ladder down. Clutching a large, heavy flashlight, she ascended carefully as Murphy anxiously paced below. The brightness of the beam threw strange shadows around the haphazard piles of objects. Something brushed her face. With relief, she realized it was a light cord for a single bulb dangling above her head. In its weak light, she surveyed the space, using the flashlight to peer into the dark recesses. There were no signs of disturbance in the thick layer of dust which coated everything and made her sneeze. She had just picked up a large book from the floor, when she suddenly heard Murphy bark in delight. Todd was home and calling her name. Turning the light off, she tripped and sprawled. The flashlight clattered down from the trapdoor, almost hitting Todd below.

“Whoa! What’s happening?” he said, breaking her fall as she half slid, half tumbled down the ladder.

“I’d give you a kiss, but you’re filthy,” he said, laughing as he held her at arms' length.

Lisa peered at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her face was smeared with dirt, and a large cobweb was tangled in her hair.

“Go and make some coffee and I’ll tell you all about it after I have a shower. I found this up there.”

She put the large leather-bound book into his hands and disappeared into the bathroom.

Showered and dressed in clean clothes, she joined Todd in the kitchen where he was absorbed in the book, his coffee sitting untouched.

“Must be a good story,” she said, pouring herself a mug of coffee and sitting down at the table beside him. “What is it?”

“It seems to be a ledger of some kind, with names and dates, but it’s all in that spidery cursive. It’ll take a while to decipher. What were you doing up there anyway?”

Lisa related the events of the previous evening.

“I thought it must be a raccoon or something, but there are no tracks in the dust or droppings. I don’t know why Murphy reacted so badly.”

Todd clasped her hand.

“I’m sorry you got scared. I can cancel my next trip if you want.”

Lisa shook her head.

“We can’t afford to. We’re on the last lap now. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Murph?”

She ruffled the dog’s ears and reached for the book, turning the pages with care as she read aloud. Todd listened, absorbed.

“These are all women’s names. It’s some kind of birth register. Look. Emily Borden. Spinster. Delivered baby boy April 14, 1902. Abigail Campbell, spinster, Delivered still-born infant May 5… pages of them. I wonder who they were.”

“Hello, there, said a voice behind them.

Lisa and Todd jumped. Bob the mailman stood behind them proffering their letters.

“Sorry, but your front door was open, and that guard dog is useless,” he said, laughing as Murphy bounded up to him, tail wagging. “Lucky for you, I’m not an axe murderer.”

“Good timing,” said Todd. “Do you have time for a coffee?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” said Bob, an elderly man with a cheerful weather-beaten face.

He sat down at the table.

“What you got there?”

“Some kind of record,” Lisa said, turning the book so he could see the pages. "I found it in the attic."

Bob’s expression changed as he peered at it.

“Looks like that might be from the bad old days.”

“What do you mean?” said Lisa

“Didn’t they tell you when you bought the house?”

“They told me that it used to be the pastors' residence,” said Todd. “Is there more to the story? Nobody in the village will talk about the house.”

Bob snorted.

“Reckon so. It's nothing to be proud of. This house was a mother and baby home for what they called fallen women back in the day. Unmarried women who got pregnant. It was all hush hush, of course, but my grandmother told me the stories about how those girls were shamed and forced to give up their babies. Supposedly some of the trustees and the preachers made a pretty penny charging for adoptions. There were even stories about how babies died here. Eventually folks started asking questions and the whole thing was shut down before there could be an investigation.”

He stared into his coffee mug, his eyes moist.

“I’ve always told my daughters to come to me if they’re ever in a bind like that. It makes me mad to think of them taking advantage of those poor girls. That’s why I wouldn’t never set foot in that church, even before it burned down.”

“That’s so sad,” said Lisa. “How did the church burn down?”

Bob shrugged.

“Rumor was that one of the girls did it for revenge, but officially they never discovered the cause of the fire. Well, I’d better get going. Thanks for the coffee.”

He stumped off, waving farewell.

Todd and Lisa sat looking at each other in stunned silence for several minutes before Lisa finally spoke.

“It might sound crazy, but I think I was meant to find that book. Now I know what the subject of my next documentary is going to be.”