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BRIDGETTE WAS GRATEFUL that business had been this good. Although most of the guests were ghost hunters, some were hoping to prove that ghosts really did exist and others wanted to disprove the myth about ghosts. She was just thankful that the ghosts had not run anyone off screaming into the night.
Growing up, you only saw the ghosts when they wanted to make their presence known, but lately, they made their images visible to guests as well as herself.
GENEVIEVE WATCHED AS guests came and went into the plantation. She could not remember the last time the place had seen this much activity. Pierre would be proud of Bridgette; she had a head for business like he did.
She enjoyed seeing the school children come in for the tours. It had been a very long time since children’s laughter echoed down the halls. The other day, a little girl reminded her of her own daughter, causing trouble for some of the boys. Her daughter was always a breath away from trouble as well.
Some guests, she could pass in front of and they paid no attention to her, and then there were other guests who noticed her right away. She had tried to get Bridgette’s attention, but she was too busy to listen to her right now. Genevieve must warn Bridgette that the evil which lurked about on the property had made its way inside the house. When the monster appeared to Genevieve, it was a ghastly image with glowing red eyes. She could only see his dark soul and not his human form. If only she could tell Bridgette which person she should be wary of. Charles Marquette had also tried to warn Bridgette. Charles was Pierre and Genevieve's grandson who died in a tragic hunting accident. He wandered these halls with her. He could not see the monster’s face either, but he felt his presence just as strong as Genevieve.
Whereas Genevieve liked to wander the property, Charles would rather stay inside. After his hunting accident, he preferred not to venture outside. There were too many bad memories outside. Charles, regrettably, saw his son born through a thin mist and never had a chance to hold him in his hands.
Most nights, Charles sat at the piano and played haunting tunes. Even as a young child, Bridgette shared her love for piano music. She would sit down at the piano and play alongside Charles as he pounded out a few notes. Genevieve loved to watch Bridgette sit at that piano; she played like a dream with her hands arched so dainty. Her fingers just glided over the keys, rarely hitting a wrong note. Whenever those two played at the piano, even now, the sorrowful and poignantly sweet music filled the air.
Tragedy struck Marquette Plantation once again in the late 1940s. A deadly tuberculosis outbreak plagued the area; Etienne Marquette died here in his bed. Genevieve shuddered at the thought of what those poor people endured during that harsh year. Not only did several of her beloved family members become ill, but the doctor ordered the house be boarded shut and quarantined until the members either died or miraculously healed themselves. They were forced to endure their sickness with no fresh air or sunshine. Genevieve would sit at the foot of her loved ones' beds and try to help calm them. If death was their fate, she attempted to help them see the light so they would not be left here to wander these halls. All but Jean Paul survived tuberculosis, and he had been too bitter to go into the light. Now, he walked these halls with her and Charles.
The only good thing from the late 1900s was a new-fangled thing called electricity. The first time her family members could turn lights off and on without the need of candles, Genevieve was in awe. She was also thrilled to see the indoor plumbing added to the house. For the longest time, Charles would play with the things they called toilets, constantly pulling the lever to make the water go down.
Genevieve’s mind went back to when Bridgette’s dad married her mom. They were such a happy couple, but when Mrs. Vidrine visited, there always would be trouble afoot. She would come out here and spin all kinds of voodoo spells on the property and would bring a Gris Gris bag for little Bridgette. That woman could do too many bad spells, and Genevieve had never liked that she taught Bridgette her wicked ways.