She followed me and we trekked through the woods to where I thought the cemetery walls were, but at some point she figured out where we were going and took the lead. She’d grown up here and knew the shortest route. She seemed to be in remarkable shape for a woman her age. It was hard for me to keep up in places. We reached the stone wall and then she looked at me expectantly.
“The keys?”
I pulled them from my pocket. “You knew?”
“Not right away but when I saw they were gone, I assumed you took them. I’ve had that set my whole life. There’s a key on it to almost every lock in the house.” I opened the gate and let her in and put them back in my pocket. It seemed relatively safe in here. The sun was going down, we weren’t visible to anyone unless they specifically came back here. “Cora showed this to you?” Ginny asked.
“Yes. The other day. She wants to have Nick’s body interred. Ginny how long have they been giving you those pink pills?”
She shrugged. “Harrison’s been giving them to me for years. He added another kind of pill recently. But I want to tell you why I was looking for you.”
“Go on.” I had stopped walking and stood against one stone wall.
“Nick didn’t disappear. Nick had a brother, two years younger. His name was James. He disappeared when he was four and was never seen again. I wanted to tell you because I knew you’d find out for yourself.” She gazed into the distance. “Let me tell you the whole story while I have the chance.”
“Is this a long story?” I asked.
Ginny nodded. “Pretty long.” She sat on a stone bench that was placed against the iron bars. “I was born across the way, had a brother, Fred, who was ten years older.” She looked up at me. “He’s the one that was killed in Anzio during World War II. Harrison was born when I was three. As far back as I can remember, Cora was always there. She’s younger than I am but we were always together. I remember Cora’s mother. I was only nine when she died but she was quiet and very thin. She used to take walks around the grounds by herself a lot. Her husband wasn’t an easy man to live with. As a child I knew to stay away. He was angry all the time and I’d seen him fly off in violent rages.”
“At Cora or her mother?”
“The rages I saw weren’t directed at anyone. I don’t know if he was hitting his wife. It wouldn’t surprise me. He was just hostile, never had a pleasant word to say. Never ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’. He didn’t like that the Cooper’s house was so close. Ours was the only house anywhere near this property back then. He didn’t want us over here and he never let Cora leave the property so we’d play in the woods.” Ginny stopped talking, seeming to be choosing her words for what she was going to say next. “Her father kept her isolated. And he worked on her mind…” Ginny rubbed her hands together.
“What did her father do to her?”
“Well, for starters, he never let her leave this house, this property. He treated his wife like that too. Like a piece of farm equipment. He controlled her movements. He controlled her thoughts. He made her work like a dog and gave her nothing. He used this house and money as a weapon. He threatened to throw her out into the world without a dime. That was her worst fear. She would cry to me, saying, how would I live, where would I go?” She looked up. “She would have been better off. He used it over and over. He used it to get her to marry Bradford…” her voice trailed off. “Not that Bradford was a bad man, but the marriage was a duty. Like going to school. He did what he was supposed to. No more, no less. But Bradford never really lived in this house. He was gone for long periods of time traveling on business and had a place downtown.”
I wanted to talk but this was the best I had ever seen Ginny. I was afraid to interrupt so I kept silent.
“So, anyway,” she continued, “Cora went ahead and married Bradford. She wasn’t happy. She tried to get out of it, put it off, but her father made it clear she or any children she might have had wouldn’t get any money from his estate if she didn’t do what he wanted. Finally she gave in. She was twenty-nine and that was fairly old to be unmarried at the time. Her father put the cut off time at thirty. He wanted to make sure that she would be able to have children and whatnot.” She hesitated.
“Go on.” I said.
“She got pregnant two years later with Nick. She was so happy.” Ginny smiled. “It was the happiest I’d ever seen her. And her father was happy too. I think that was the best year I’d ever seen in this house. Her father opened up his purse strings a little and she decorated the room next to hers as a nursery. As far as I knew the marriage was going along well.” She held her hands almost as if in prayer. “Everything was wonderful. Cora had an easy pregnancy and gave birth to Nick that spring. Her father was thrilled that she’d had a boy. She was a good mother.” I rolled my eyes. Ginny reached out and touched my arm. “She was. A careful mother. She took that baby with her everywhere. It was her life, almost. But something happened when Nick was about a year and a half old.”
“What?”
“Things changed. She crumbled. Wouldn’t let the baby out of her sight. Ever. She wouldn’t let anyone hold him, not even me. Sometimes she slept in his room with him. People tried to tell her father that something was wrong but he refused to listen. He wasn’t going to have the community talking about his daughter so he tried to deal with it himself. Which meant he did nothing. He was an old man by then, at least seventy-five and still as mean as ever. I tried to help but there was only so much I could do. Cora and I grew up together, but I wouldn’t say she ever trusted me. Or that we had a deep and abiding friendship. It was more like she tolerated me because I was familiar. Then she got pregnant again.” She wrung her hands. “I thought it would be a good thing for her to have another baby, that it would break this spell she was under, but it only made things worse.”
“Worse how?”
“She didn’t want the baby. She began talking to herself, lived in her own world… Oh, it was horrible. She tried to abort the baby by drinking turpentine.”
“Turpentine? Why?”
Ginny shrugged. “She said the baby she was carrying was evil and that she wanted it gone. The turpentine made her sick but her father wouldn’t let her go to the hospital. He paid a doctor to come and treat her here at the house. I don’t think she actually drank that much and both she and the baby survived. She gave birth to James that summer.”
“And what happened?” I sat, transfixed, on the bench next to her.
“She wouldn’t look at him, or touch him. Her father had to hire a woman to take care of the baby. And it got worse.”
“But I don’t get it. Why did she treat this one so differently?”
“I don’t know. His room was way on the other side of the house. She didn’t want to even hear him cry. And she did things, awful things. Like one time when he was just an infant, he had a terrible cold, she ran into his room during a winter storm opened all his windows at night. She said she was waiting for a sign.” She sighed. “A sign from who or about what, I don’t know. The nanny was asleep in the adjoining room and didn’t know until he started crying. And if she ever saw the baby, I mean accidentally, she’d get so upset. It was like she didn’t want him to exist. But her father intervened and made it clear that if anything happened to that baby she’d be disinherited. “
“And he never got her help?”
“No.”
“And what about her husband? Why didn’t he just take his children?”
“As long as Cora’s father was still alive his hands were tied. He talked to Edward but there wasn’t much he could do. Edward Monroe would never have stood to have his grandchildren removed from the property.”
“And then Edward died?” I chimed in.
“Yes. Edward died. Cora started getting hateful towards James. She didn’t ignore him anymore; it was like she looked for reasons to hurt him. Bradford, I think wanted a divorce but it was difficult. They had so many joint finances. He was working in Europe, Germany. It was easier to just move without divorcing. But he wanted custody. Full custody. In those days that wasn’t done so easily. To take children from their mother and go overseas? I think Bradford had attorneys working with him and was trying to get evidence together to get full custody of both his children when James disappeared.”
“What happened to him?”
She had tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. They thought he was kidnapped and were waiting for a ransom note, but it never came.” She was silent for a few minutes and I left her to her thoughts. “It was a terrible time. Bradford had been living in Europe, had a heart attack, pretty bad one, and came back here. He wasn’t even fully recovered. Almost within the week of his return, this happened. Cora fell apart. Bradford was too ill, so Harrison tried to take control of the whole thing. It was just awful. They searched the property. The area. Nothing. He’d just vanished. After awhile it died down. Cora had such a time with it; no one could even mention the boy’s name.”
Her voice was soft. “His whole existence was wiped out. His room was made over into a library. Every picture of him was destroyed and Nick was never ever allowed to say anything about him.”
“Or what?”
“That was the only thing that Nick could do that would make Cora raise a hand against him, if he mentioned his brother’s name”
“And if he did she’d get mad and throw him in a room with his Bible, maybe?” I ventured.
Ginny nodded slowly. “Sometimes, yes.”
“But why didn’t Bradford just take his son at that point? He had money. Edward was dead. He went to the trouble of asking the Heinz’s to take Nick if something happened to him. So why didn’t he just take him himself?”
“He wanted to. Problem was that Nick was sixteen by that time. Not a child anymore and he had rights. He didn’t want to go. He and his mother were just stuck together like gnats on honey. Nick was torn being pulled between the two. Then Bradford died and the matter was settled.”
“So, then Nick just leaves? And Cora never tried to get him back? She never called the police. It makes no sense.”
“Something about his father’s death made him want to go. And she never called the police because of James. Another son missing? Dragging that story up again? No. She didn’t want anyone nosing around her personal business. She’s a very private person. She told me she was afraid it would hit the papers big. Shine light on the family dysfunction and she couldn’t take it. And she thought Nick would come home. I mean, he had no money.”
“And how did she know that Nick wasn’t kidnapped?”
“He left her a short note, just saying that he was leaving and that if she tried to find him, she’d be sorry. And when Bradford’s will was probated, he’d left money to Nick in trust held by the law firm. There was nothing she could do. It was money in personal holdings left to him by his father. Cora was so mad. She wanted to control him the way her father had controlled her but it wouldn’t work because Nick had his own money. So then she figured she’d wait until he accessed the money and she’d track him down but as you know he never did.” We both sat on the cold bench lost in our own thoughts.
I rubbed my hands together. “So, the real question here is what happened to James.” I looked over at Ginny. “Do you think Cora hurt James? Maybe by accident and then covered it up?”
“By hurt you mean killed? She was beside herself when that boy went missing. She still can’t talk about it. My opinion? No. Never. I think she’s filled with guilt over how she treated him when he was alive.”
“And how did he get off the property for someone to snatch him? It’s well gated.”
“The gate was open all that morning. Delivery people had been there, grounds people. Cora forgot and left it open. They assumed he wandered down the road and out to the street. More guilt. But now that you know this, what are you going to do?”
“I have to think.” I stood up and began looking at the headstones.
The oldest, most weather beaten was in the right corner. It was a plain stone and the engraving was starting to erode. I squatted in front of it. Nathanial Charles Monroe 1811-1857. At peace with the Lord. He was a young man when he died. Only forty-six. He was buried with his wife Elizabeth. She had lived long enough to see her son self-destruct. I turned to Ginny who was still seated on the bench.
“Are they buried on top of each other like Cora’s parents?”
She seemed startled by the sound of my voice. “Yes, they all are. To save space in here.”
Next to Nathan-Elizabeth was their son Jonathan. Born in eighteen thirty-six, he was twenty when his father died. I looked down at his grave. His stone was plain and simple, engraved with nothing more than his name and dates. I guess he wasn’t at peace with the Lord. He’d caused nothing but pain to every successive generation. He, too, was buried with his wife. Her name was Victoria and from the dates given, she was much younger than he. These two men were buried side by side but Cora’s parents were clear on the other side of the small cemetery. It was like they weren’t sure they wanted to be within the same walls.
Next to Cora’s parents was the small singular grave of Cora’s brother who was stillborn. His stone was small and sad, engraved with the one date. 1942. Edward James Monroe II. He was the only one who was buried alone. Because he died with his mother, I was a little surprised that they didn’t bury them together, in the same coffin. I looked over to where Ginny sat. It was dark now. The sun had gone down and I could just see the outline of her body. I didn’t want to be in this cemetery anymore. It was beginning to feel like a prison. And Cora wanted to bring Nick back here, imprison him too. Request that she be buried on top of him. Smothering him even in death.
“Let’s go.” I said to Ginny.
She stood up behind me. “Now I’ll sleep tonight. My conscience is clear. Maybe I’ll even take my pills.”
“You seem better without them. Why are they giving you Benadryl anyway? Do you have allergies?” I put the key in the lock and shut the gate.
“I get confused sometimes. It started years ago. I have trouble remembering the simplest things and things that happened a long time ago seem so clear. He started giving me Benadryl because he said it would help.”
“Does it?”
“Some days are better than others.”
She moved ahead of me in the woods and I strained to keep her in sight. There was no moon in the sky, nothing to illuminate the pathway. She was so familiar with these surroundings, her thin agile legs moved her quickly out of sight.