Young Writers Society

The next few weeks passed in such a busy haze Whisper never had a chance to feel scared, not even a little bit. It was all scrubbing, hauling out furniture to be cleaned and restored, throwing out old sheets and blankets and curtains and whatever else was beyond saving. Most things just needed really heavy-duty cleaning.

For the first two nights, the family ended up kipping out in the living room; nothing else was livable. Then Whisper’s parents moved into the master bedroom that was just off the living room and she stayed on the couch. She didn’t really mind. She had forty-three bedrooms to choose from; she could take her time.

As they cleaned the house revealed more oddities, however. There was a room right next to the ground-floor ballroom that was locked. According to Anne Spring, it had been locked her entire life; she had no idea what was in there. Straining to see through the keyhole and under the door, Whisper was able to make out what might have been a dusty baby crib. “Shouldn’t we get a locksmith in here and open it up?” she asked, but her mom just shrugged.

“We don’t really need it,” she answered. “There are plenty of rooms.”

“But why is it locked?” Whisper asked, frowning at the door.

“I haven’t a clue. Come on, Whisper, I need you to take these blankets outside to the line.

Two weeks into the cleaning, Whisper climbed out onto the roof to clear away some of the ivy that had grown over the windows. Her dad improvised a rope harness for her, but Whisper was nimble and didn’t really need it. She took the clippers and began working.

It was then Whisper uncovered the plaque on the front of the house, set just above the double front doors. “Siren Manor,” it read. “Dad!” Whisper yelled. He came out on the balcony above her where the rope was fastened.

“Whisper, are you okay?” he called, leaning over.

“There’s a plaque here. It says this house is called ‘Siren Manor.’ ” She let her weight fall into the rope and pushed back on her toes so she could see her dad’s face. “I thought this place was called Faerie Haven!”

Mr. Spring grinned. “The land is. I hadn’t realized the mansion had a different name. Cool find, Whisp! How’s that ivy coming?”

“I’m nearly done with this side. Hey, when is Uncle Lenard coming for a visit?”

“I think he and Michael should be here today to help with the last of the cleaning,” Mr. Spring explained. “I just talked to him on the phone. He says he’s sorry for not coming earlier.”

“Why doesn’t Uncle Lenard live here? I mean, he’s just in the town, right? And why do we never visit them, anyway? They always came to see us.” Whisper was trying not to sound accusing; she knew there was something her parents weren’t telling her.

“Well, there’s a lot of uncomfortable feelings about this mansion. It’s got a long, complicated history.”

“Like ghosts?” Whisper asked deftly. Mr. Spring laughed.

“Yes, well, that is the hearsay in the town. I don’t believe any of it, but each to their own. A lot of people seem to think your mom’s family were full of witches because of supposed hauntings and their beliefs in faeries.”

Whisper didn’t think she’d complain if she did have witches in her family. “Are people around here superstitious?”

“Almost as bad as those in the Deep South,” Mr. Spring replied with another laugh. “Especially when it comes to the sea or—it seems—Faerie Haven. You won’t let it bother you, will you?”

“The only way it’s going to bother me, Dad, is if I don’t know everything.” The stare Whisper gave him was accusing.

“You’ll have to get that from your Mom, Whisper. I keep on telling her to tell you. Just give her some more time, okay? She’s getting used to being here again.”

As Mr. Spring had said, Whisper’s uncle and cousin arrived later that day. Michael was two years older than her—Whisper was going to be a freshman that year, and he was a junior. The two of them looked more like siblings than cousins. They had the same odd green eyes, thick brown hair, thin build, and the same bright smile. Michael got out of their truck, waving at Whisper and looking up at the old house.

“Wow,” he said. “I haven’t been here since Grandma moved out. It’s as big as I remember!”

“You only live five miles away,” Whisper said as she rushed up to meet him. “If I were you, I’d be coming here as often as I could!”

“I discouraged it,” Lenard answered for his son. “You know, it’s out in the woods and if anything happened to him no one would be around to help.”

Whisper’s eyes narrowed at the lie but she didn’t call him out on it. “Too bad Aunt Tori couldn’t be here too,” she suggested coldly.

Lenard Carpenter turned pale, his lips pressing together. Whisper turned away quickly before the guilt could set in and trooped back to the house.

Michael caught up to her in the kitchen, catching her arm. “Whisper!” he said, his voice accusing. “Why’d you go and mention Aunt Tori?”

“Because he’s lying to me! Mom won’t tell me what’s up either. Dad keeps on saying that should be her job, so he won’t tell me. I’m sorry, Michael. I’m just frustrated.” She bit her lip and stared past her cousin’s shoulder. Michael sighed.

“I was worried you wouldn’t be able to take the secrets here very well, Whisp. You always did like to know everything. Try and be patient, okay?”

“Do you know?” Whisper asked suspiciously, waving aside his plea for patience. Michael shook his head.

“Of course not! You would know if I did, I promise. Will you promise the same?”

Whisper finally flashed a smile. “Okay, deal. We’ll work together to discover the secrets behind this place, yes?” She stuck out her hand and Michael took it with a grin very like her own.

“Deal,” he responded cheerfully. “Now I believe I was supposed to help with the house…?”

“Right. I believe I’m supposed to go work on the top floor and attic now that the ivy’s cleared. Want to come?” Michael nodded and Whisper raced off, coming back with a pair of rag mops and a bucket. “Let’s clean!” she said cheerily, passing Michael a mop and the bucket. “The solution is already upstairs and we’ll fill the bucket up in a bathroom up top. There’s at least one that works properly!” And she trooped off, back in high spirits, leaving Michael to hurry after her.

-

Hours later, everything had been mopped, scrubbed, and dusted, and the last of the dirty curtains and blankets had been hauled out for a final trip to the cleaner’s in town. Whisper plopped down on a bare mattress, exhausted. A cloud of dust puffed into the air and she coughed, waving it away. “I can’t believe we’re so close to being done!” she breathed. “Michael, I’m impressed. We make a good team.”

“I agree with Mom,” he answered, rolling his eyes at Whisper. You are a ‘irrepressible ball of energy.’”

“Did she really say that?” Whisper asked mildly. Her Aunt Lessa was a business-like sort of woman, though very good-natured. “I guess so. I don’t feel like one right now, though!”

“Me either,” Michael agreed vehemently. “Tell you what. Let’s go put these mops away and spend some time out in the garden. I can hardly breathe in here, and I think we deserve a break.”

“Oh—we’re supposed to open all the windows! I got all the ones on the west side, but we still need to do the east and south!” Whisper jumped off, racing to the bedroom door and out into the hall. “I’ll get the south if you’ll get the east!” she called over her shoulder, and then she was gone. Michael shook his head with another grin and busied himself unlatching the old windows and throwing them open to let in fresh air. It was a more difficult chore than he’d thought; the windows were old and often stuck and most of the hinges needed oiling. Finally, with much pushing and squeaking, they were all open and he made his way downstairs.

He ran into Whisper again on the second landing. She was standing in front of a large portrait, her brow furrowed and intent. “What’re you looking at, Whisp?” Michael asked curiously, walking to her side.

“Oh—this portrait,” Whisper said, snapping out of her trance. “I couldn’t tell earlier because it was so caked in dust…but she does rather look like me, doesn’t she?”

Michael understood what Whisper meant. The two of them didn’t really look like anyone else in their family, but here was a picture of a young woman with their thick, feathery brown hair and deep misty green eyes. She looked remarkably like Whisper, actually. Michael whistled. “You’re right, the similarities are rather astounding. I wonder who she was? She’s some relation or another, I’m sure. But we can’t be directly descended; I’ve seen pictures and portraits of our grandparents all the way back to the late seventeenth century, and she can’t have been before then. I mean, look at that dress!” It was a beautiful affair of white, with foamy lace around the off-shoulder neckline and a short, draped sleeve. The bodice went tightly into the waist—a corset had to be involved—and then the skirt flared out again in several layers with a bustle in the back. It was very fine and elegant. Her hair was gathered up in strings of pearls and emeralds, with a few loose curls hanging over one shoulder, and she had a circlet of white gold and pale green emeralds.

“She looks like she knows something we don’t,” Whisper said sternly after a prolonged examination. “Look at the way her mouth quirks up in the corner, and her eyes seem to be daring us to find out what she knows.”

Michael grinned. “You’re an oddball, Whisper. Still, I understand what you mean. Come on though—I do want some time outside before sunset!”

Whisper didn’t move or even respond. Her eyes had clouded and she looked confused, as though examining some distant memory inside her head. Michael rolled his eyes again, seized her shoulders, and steered her away.

Downstairs, Mrs. Spring was busy fixing dinner. “Don’t go far, you two,” she said, glancing at them as the passed. “Dinner will be ready as soon as David and Lenard get back.”

“We’ll stay inside the yard,” Whisper promised. Michael thought she sounded rather reluctant, but she didn’t protest as the two of them headed into the parlor and out the front door.

An evening chill had settled into the air, which bore the scents of earth and wood and sea. Whisper breathed deeply, a look of immense satisfaction crossing her face. “This is so much better than the city!” she cried happily, throwing out her arms to embrace the scene before her. “Let’s go round to the back where the lily pond is.”

Michael, obliging as ever, followed his cousin. She sat down in the swing that hung over the pond and Michael gave her a push from behind so she soared out over the scummy water. She laughed and Michael sprawled out in the grass. “You like it here, then?” he asked.

“Yes…” Whisper stopped the swing, digging her tennis shoes into the mud at the edge of the pond. She looked down.

“You don’t sound too convinced of that,” Michael pressed gently. Whisper sighed and leaned her head back to look at the gold-streaked sky.

“I just don’t like all the fear and secrets,” she said. “They aren’t worth it. Mom’s never going to be happy here if she doesn’t let them go.”

Michael nodded. “I know. Dad doesn’t like coming to the house either, and he sure won’t talk about it much. He doesn’t seem scared the way your mother is though, just sad.”

“Because of Aunt Tori?” Whisper asked. Michael shrugged.

“I suppose so, but he’s never said. He always brushes off the subject. Like Aunt Anne, I guess! Hmm. I wonder if they’re related.” Michael said it so seriously Whisper actually looked round at him before laughing off her solemn mood.

“What’s the school like?” Whisper asked, twisting the swing to look at her cousin. “I haven’t even been to town yet; it’s been too busy here.”

“Most of the town is nearly a hundred years old—not so old as your house, but old. The school has three floors instead of one, and I guess it’s all right. The station is much more cool, though. They don’t use the train anymore, so they built a tram going from the station through town for people to use. You’ll like it, I’m sure.”

“Oh good! I can’t wait to see. Do you get tourists through here much?”

“Yeah—I guess. We usually have a couple hundred in the cabins outside town in the summer. Our town isn’t overly friendly towards strangers, though, so they tend to stick to Eureka and other tourist towns. Ours is an old fashioned tight knit fishing village…like something you’d find in England way back when.”

“Is that good or bad?” Whisper asked, detecting a bit of a edge to his voice. Michael looked up at the rapidly darkening sky.

“It’s a bit of both. People here are awfully close-minded, but it’s a relatively safe place to live, and it’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“It is at that!” Whisper chirped. The two of them fell silent as they heard a distant rumbling. “Oh, that’ll be Dad and Uncle Lenard,” she said, popping off of the swing and helping Michael to his feet. “Time for dinner!” She and Michael headed around the house to see the big van pulling back into the driveway. David swung himself out of the front, Lenard coming out the other side; both were grinning.

“That’s the last of the blankets and curtains! They’re all clean and dry now. We’re so close to being done!”

Whisper bounded up to her father. “Wonderful! Do you want help carrying them back in?”

“Not now. Your mom texted me to say dinner is ready. We’ll take care of them in the morning.” David put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Come on! I’m hungry.”

The four of them went in, famished from the day’s hard work. Michael, however, thought he saw someone standing out in the forest for just a moment before the door closed. Blinking and feeling his spine tingle, he told himself firmly it was just a figment of his imagination.