Authors: Lynn Ricci
“Mason, the morning you left this painting for me was very strange.
I brought it in and set it by the windows to get a good look and then lost all track of time. I was so captivated by the painting, looking at each brush stroke, color choices, shapes and illusions that I sat here on the floor for over an hour.”
“Maybe you were remembering it?
It was the last painting you – sorry, I mean Catherine painted.”
“Do you really think Catherine was reincarnated and I am her?
Wouldn’t I have other memories? Of even living here?”
Mason took a moment to think about her comment before he answered. “I think I suspected you were Catherine all along.
You are you, and unique, but there are certain things about you that were unique to Catherine, too. Like pulling on your earlobe when you get nervous, she did that too, and that is a certain idiosyncrasy that would be hard to overlook as coincidental. You are similar in features, but that could be explained by family.”
“Family! That’s it.
There is no proof this is the same family we are talking about. And that’s something we can research quickly.” Sarah reached for the laptop where she had left it on the coffee table and booted it up quickly.
“Sarah, you don’t need to do that . . .”
“It’s easy, you type the word ancestry into this search field and you get some major family databases that you can check and cross reference. This is what I planned to do at the National Archives Thursday when I came back from Connecticut for a work project.”
The website opened as Mason offered the answer.
“Sarah, I believe if I remember correctly, Rose would be your grandmother.”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open a little that he would know that.
Mason continued, “Rose’s middle name is Catherine. She left Boston in the late 1940’s, but before she did, she and her mother Mary Rose came to stay with us here. They stayed in the Baldwin's apartment. I only had a slight disfigurement then since I was surrounded by people who cared about me but was already ugly to most people. Over time the more that pitied me, the worse I became with new ailments popping up.
At the time, Catherine Todd’s younger sister Penny was still alive but her husband had long since died.
Penny lived here and her daughter Cate did as well, right here in this apartment. Cate’s full name was Catherine Rose. Penny was getting on in years that summer and didn’t leave her bed. She lived in 1A and I took care of her until she passed. Cate was Mary Rose’s mother which made her Rose’s grandmother.
It’s confusing with all the names, but when Penny was with child she had decided to call her baby Catherine and chose Rose as the middle name to signify her sister’s love of roses.
She encouraged Cate to keep one of the names when she had her first daughter, and so on. Your grandmother Rose broke the pattern but it wasn’t intentional. I don’t think she realized and was too far removed from a great aunt she never met to feel it necessary.”
Sarah was dumfounded.
“How could you know all that about my family?”
“I know all that about
Catherine’s
family.”
“Oh my God.” Sarah’s eyes widened with the realization that there could be no mistake now.
“So this is the brownstone my grandmother spoke about at Thanksgiving dinner, and you actually knew her. And I painted that painting in another life,” Sarah said pointing up to the painting on the wall. “And you’ve suspected this the whole time?”
“Sarah, I suspected but didn’t know.
And how could I tell you? One look at me and my twisted, ugly body, telling a girl like you that I knew your great, great grandmother and guess what? She lived right here, and you lived here too in a previous life . . .”
“I would have run so fast.” Sarah interjected and laughed
nervously. “Okay, I guess you have a point.” Sarah watched Mason and by her expression he could tell she knew there was something bothering him. Turning serious, Sarah gently asked for what she had been waiting hear, “Mason, what happened? What happened all those years ago that caused you so much pain and turmoil? And, how could it have affected you physically? Or extended your life like this?”
“Selena happened.”
Mason’s voice took on bitterness she had not heard from him before. Mason rubbed his hands on the top of his jeans as he sat there, obviously irritated, about to unfold the end of his story. He looked at Sarah and gave her a tentative smile, feeling both sides of his mouth spread and form a real smile instead of the grotesque sneer he usually made.
The curse is breaking
.
He cleared his throat before starting.
“Catherine was an incredible artist. Although her father was not fond of the idea of her attending art school, thinking it was a little too progressive for a woman to continue her education, no one could deny her talent and how it had improved with the cultivation that the Museum of Fine Arts School offered. Although she enjoyed painting outside during the summer months, Mr. Todd had agreed to set up a small studio up here on the third floor. He had these tall windows installed to maximize the light.”
Sarah looked around at the room like she had not seen it before, wondering what it could have been like 150 years ago.
“By that spring, the house was settled into a routine. Mrs. Todd had it decorated to her liking and Mrs. Burke was happy to have a full family to cook and bake for. The housekeeper's brother and I had struck up a friendship and spent a considerable amount of time playing cards to get through the long winter. Penny was doing well with her studies and Selena, luckily, kept to herself.
Catherine painted throughout the winter so I paths didn’t cross as much.
I would cherish the moments it did or when I would deliver her to school by carriage. Sometimes when we returned to the house she would come around back to the stables to check the horses and we would talk for a while. One day in the early spring I told her the story of the fire and my parents . . .”
Sarah interrupted, speaking softly but not looking as glazed over and lost as her first memory, “there were tears and a gentle hug for condolence, and then Aiden and Catherine shared their first kiss.”
Sarah surprised herself by adding to the story and blushed at the memory. She quickly looked away and fidgeted.
“That they did.”
“They did? I wasn’t making up my own story?”
“You were not making it up.
It must be a memory, triggered by my talking about it.” Mason became worried. “Sarah, if you are having some flashback as I tell you about events in the past, some of what I might say next . . .”
“It’s okay, Mason.” She put her hand on his arm for reassurance and left it there.
“I’ll be fine.” He looked down at his own arm and realized how smooth it now was with all the lumps and welts subsided.
“After we kissed, it changed things.
I was totally infatuated and couldn’t think of anything but Catherine. Mrs. Burke tried to warn me and even Delia was trying to get me to look at other girls. They both tried to remind me that I was twenty and should be finding a wife, and that Catherine Todd would not be allowed to marry the stable boy. She came from a wealthy family, and I was an orphan.
One afternoon Mrs. Todd, Penny and Selena joined me to pick up Catherine.
The plan was to visit the new store that just opened on Winter Street called Filene’s Sons & Company. On the way over, Mrs. Todd bubbled about looking forward to seeing the large department store and having heard you could buy clothes as well as items for the home all in one place.
“May I be able to get new shoes?” Penny asked.
“Of course, dearest. And I need a new shall. I am sure Catherine will want to start looking at dresses for the Ball.”
I heard this and although I could not see them sitting in the carriage behind me, I could feel Selena’s evil smile directed at the back of my head.
We picked up Catherine and I remember she was quite giddy with the appearance of William Morris Hunt, a noted artist and teacher who was one of the first to offer classes to women in
Boston at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts just a few years before. Catherine excitedly talked about how he had made comments about her work and suggested even that she look him up at his studio on Summer Street where he could introduce her to another female artist that he thought could help mentor her.
We pulled up in front of the department store and I waited out front, standing by the horses
and carriages and chatting up the other coach drivers as the Todd clan and Selena strolled inside. It was still chilly and I was surprised and a bit uncomfortable when I saw Selena return.
“I’ve returned early,” She stated boldly, drawing the attention of the other grooms with her incredible beauty and uncharacteristic self-assuredness.
She smiled at the group of fellows, and I felt myself bristle with the thought she would just as soon devour them, sucking all energy and growing stronger and more attractive.
I opened the door to the carriage and she waited for me to offer my hand to assist her climb into the back. Instead, I formally offered up my arm, elbow bent, for her to use as leverage.
Blue eyes narrowing, I think she suspected I knew her trick of seeking out a man’s wrist vein in order to draw on his life force.
Selena stepped on board without using my arm but before I closed the door, she merrily said, “The dress Catherine is selecting is magnificent.
She should not have any problem with eligible suitors once she is introduced at the ball.”
After that, Selena used any bit of information she could to upset me.
She started attending dinner with us in the kitchen at night, listening to our conversation and sometimes accidentally bumping into me under the table or grazing my hand while passing a dish. She would always add tidbits she had overheard from Penny or Mrs. Todd about the young men in Boston, the good families, and the upcoming spring balls.
One night, I heard a slight knock on my door and there was Selena.
Although Anna, Selena and I were all on the ground floor, we kept our distance and decorum so this visit was surprising and troublesome.
“What’s the matter, Selena?”
“I think there is a mouse in my room. Can you come catch it?”
“Isn’t that why you have a cat?”
It was common knowledge that Selena had a black cat although we never saw it during the day and we believe it stayed in her room.
“I am sure Anna is making that up.
There is no cat and I need your help.”
My intuition was to stay far away and not be alone with her, especially after the incident at the end of the summer, but I could not leave her in distress and knew Anna would be of no help.
I closed the door behind me and followed her up the hallway to her room.
When I entered, it was not what I expected.
The room was elaborately decorated, not like my bare room, and lit with one gas lamp that gave off a low glow. A rich, Persian rug covered the wood floor and there were dark wood dressers that appeared to be intricately carved and expensive. Not the quality I was provided but I justified that she was a woman and they fancy this type of furniture more than I would care for.
My eyes adjusting a little more to the dimness, I noticed dresses hung on hooks along the back wall and there were shelves lined with glass jars and a small bookcase with old leather bound books.
The agarwood incense was overwhelming and as I stood there looking around, she grabbed me by the wrist to pull me into the room and shut the
door. I had a strange sensation invade my body originating from where her hand touched my wrist and a pounding in my ears. Dizziness set in and I had trouble forming thoughts and words. Suddenly I remembered what Mrs. Burke had said about not letting her touch me and turn me into a mindless puddle like she had Mr. Todd before and I quickly shook my hand free. Unfortunately, it was a little late and my reactions had slowed.
Selena pointed
at the corner by her bed.
“I heard scratching, over there
, in the corner.”
I looked at her and felt my eyes trying to focus.
There was a buzzing in my ears and there was no escape from that damned agarwood scent. Her hair was black and shone with a blue highlight. Her skin was like a porcelain doll and her eyes were fringed with the longest black eyelashes and on closer inspection appeared to be rimmed in black kohl. But it was her mouth, with those plump lips that curled in the corners that I found myself staring at.
In those days I was very strong physically, but at that moment I felt weak in body and spirit.
I tore my gaze away and trudged sleepily towards the corner she had pointed to inspect for mice. I felt her hand on my back and although my mind screamed run I knew she had already dragged me too far into her sticky web. Turning around to tell her I was going to leave, her mouth locked on mine, hungrily covering my lips. She pushed her body against mine, from chest to toe and although I tried to grab her forearms too pull her away I was weakened and it took all my might to do so. But not before I felt her tongue dart into my mouth and seek out mine, a dark vision filling my head. Truth be told, the passion and obvious skill of those lips caused just a moment of hesitancy as a wave of passion rose within me, almost drowning out the urgency of the situation and rendering me useless. I had never experienced anything like that kiss.