In the same moment, Jennifer realized what was an astonishing, even frightening fact. She missed her mother. After years of coolness, silence, even resentment, she suddenly wished that the house were again filled with that strong presence. For the first time she saw that it took two people to make any kind of relationship, even that of mistress and slave. Now she wanted someone to order her about, tell her what to do, occupy her time.
Her tea had grown cold. She carried it with her as she returned to the living room and seated herself at the desk there. She took a note, paper, and a pen from the drawer, and began to write in a neat, precise style.
“...I will very much enjoy an opportunity to visit with you at Kelsey. I will expect to arrive Thursday next, probably in the evening....”
She finished the note, reading it over several times before putting it in its envelope, and took it directly to the post office for mailing.
CHAPTER TWO
Jennifer leaned one shoulder against the door of her car and sighed wearily. Would there be no end to this day?
“Nope, no Kelsey place around here,” the man outside the car window repeated for what seemed to her the hundredth time. She stared through the half opened glass at him impatiently, sniffing mentally at the stubble of gray beard and the blackened teeth that dominated his withered face.
If he says that one more time, I shall scream, she told herself, her customary patience wearing thinner with each passing moment. She took the letter from her purse, removing the folded sheet from its envelope.
“My aunt says that their home is here, near Hard Castle, and I’m sure she must know where she lives.” Despite her annoyance, her voice sounded as calm as ever; it was the tone of voice one would use to address a stubborn child.
“And besides,” she added, all but waving the envelope under his nose, “it’s postmarked from Hard Castle.”
“Ain’t no Kelsey place around here.”
It was like listening to a broken record. For a moment she considered her resolution to scream. Instead, she sighed despairingly and replaced the letter carefully in her purse. Turning the ignition key, she put the car in gear and, scarcely waiting for him to step back from the way, she drove angrily from the service station.
“Blast,” she said aloud to no one. The letter from Aunt Christine had been so explicit in its direction for the drive, until it got her to Hard Castle. Why on earth should the instructions have petered out so weakly at this stage in the journey?
“Take Bellen Road off of Peters Road.” That was all the letter said. There was nothing as to where Peters Road was in relation to Hard Castle, nor how far she went in what direction. And that old fool at the station had not only never heard of either road but he had insisted on contributing to her annoyance by telling her that the Kelseys did not live anywhere near here. For all she knew, the road she was looking for could be two states away, and in the opposite direction.
She chastised herself for being so irritable. In the past, she had controlled her emotions better. It was difficult for her to adjust to the fact that now she could not only feel what she wished, but she could express those feelings if she wished.
“Heavens,” she thought aloud, “I sound as if I’m happy my mother’s gone.”
Her thoughts went back to the night of her mother’s death; what was it about that night? Something about it haunted her, lingering just below the surface of her consciousness. Something that had happened, something perhaps that she had dreamed. Try though she might, however, she could not bring the thought to the level of consciousness.
Suddenly cross with herself for having pursued such thinking, she forced her attention to the present. The sun was sinking ever lower toward the horizon. She scanned the sides of the road, but there was nothing in sight. At the present rate, she might very well think of spending the night someplace, and there was no sign of a motel.
It had seemed, from Aunt Christine’s directions, a simple enough drive, and she had few reservations about making the trip by herself, although she had never before traveled alone. She had been careful also to schedule her departure so that, she had thought, she would arrive at Hard Castle the same day. She did not like traveling at night, particularly in what was now proving to be rather unpopulated country.
Almost on cue, she saw a sign for Peters Road. She hit the brake, bringing the car to a stop just beyond the turn-off. Slowly and none too confidently, she backed the car up and made the turn on Peters Road.
It’s no wonder, she thought, that the man at the service station never heard of this road.
The road was little used, if its present state of repair were any indication. Large chuckholes forced her to keep her speed to a crawl. Small stones banged against the underside of the car. Increasingly ill at ease, she glanced again to the side of the road, allowing the car to run straight through a particularly bad chuckhole.
Hands shaking, she brought the car to a stop. It was an older model car, one her mother had purchased new many years before. Without knowing much about automobiles, Jennifer nevertheless suspected that this one would not long endure the treatment it was getting on this road.
For a moment she considered returning to Hard Castle for the night and making her way to Kelsey House in the morning. The road, which had thus far offered no sign of habitation, was lined on either side by dense woods. The tall trees and the rapidly fading sunlight left her in a dark gloom. The thought of driving this road after sundown was anything but pleasant.
She looked along the road again. Scarcely more than one lane, it did not even afford room for her to turn the car around. In order to return the way she had come, she would first have to continue on at least until she found a driveway or a lane, or even a wide spot.
Jennifer started off again slowly. Her uneasiness grew as the woods crept by on either side of her car, offering no relief. By now the sun had disappeared behind the tops of the trees and she was obliged to flick on the headlights in order to see where she was going. In their dim glare she nearly missed a narrow lane that cut into the woods on her right.
With a sigh of relief, she turned the car into it and shifted into reverse. She was backed halfway around before the headlights picked up the sign, all but covered over with brush, that identified Bellen Road.
She hesitated, half on and half off the road. The drive back into Hard Castle would be an arduous one in the dark. What’s more, there was no assurance of finding a place to stay once she reached the town. Hard Castle seemed to consist of little more than a main street. A general store and the service station at which she had stopped earlier were the only visible business establishments in the town. Certainly she had seen nothing even resembling a motel.
She was tired and she was hungry, and there was no assurance that Hard Castle could provide relief for either need. On the other hand, the drive on to Kelsey House surely could not be any more difficult than retracing her route, and there at least she was assured of dinner and some degree of hospitality.
Gritting her teeth, she shifted the gears again and turned onto Bellen Road. At least, she comforted herself, this road seemed to be an improvement over the one she had been traveling on previously. This was as narrow, true, and nothing more than dirt, but at least the dirt was solidly packed. In comparison to the last hour of driving, it seemed quite smooth.
She was able to drive faster now, watching to the sides of the road for some sign of a house, although as yet she had seen none.
The daylight was completely gone by this time. The twin beams of the headlights offered the only break in the blackness that surrounded the car. Jennifer’s back had begun to ache from the unaccustomed driving, and her eyes were feeling the strain of staring steadily through the windshield. She gripped the wheel tensely as she steered the car around a curve that appeared before her. As she did so, the lights reflected back to her from the road ahead.
The seconds that