The Haunted Heritage

Three

Three

HELEN LEAVES JUST BEFORE 5 p.m, and Nate arrives at the Rectory. He volunteered to write an article about the Myer Mansion, the parish’s plans for the estate, and the haunted house to stir up interest and frankly, sell tickets. This is a fundraiser, after all.

We sit down in my office and he pulls out a digital recorder. “Do you mind if I record you, Father?” he asks with enthusiasm.

This gives me an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. For a moment, I’m taken back to when Nate and I first met and he was working on a documentary about my late wife Joan’s murder. It was his work that ultimately led Helen to reopen the case and catch her killer.

I manage to brush those thoughts away. “Not at all, Nate,” I say with a smile. “I’d like you to quote me accurately.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he says. “I’ll make sure to write exactly what you tell me.”

Nate pulls out a notebook from the messenger bag dropped on the floor by his chair. Flipping it open, he says, “I have some questions, Father Tom, about the mansion.”

“Well, I’m happy to talk about the mansion and our plans for the Myer estate. This project is very close to my heart, and I’m just so happy that the Acutis Society is hosting Fairy Tales and Frights for the families of Myerton. I know that the Saint Francis Education Center it’s raising funds for will be a real benefit, not just to the parish, but to the town as a whole.”

“I understand from Gladys that you’ve done some research into the history of the house?”

I nod. “Yes, some, though I can hardly claim to be an expert on its history. The house was built before the Civil War and was added onto over the years. Interestingly enough, it was the first structure in town wired for electricity—that was done by Thomas Edison himself.”

Nate’s writing something down—probably noting what I just said as a good quote to include in the story—when he looks up at me and says, without preamble, “So, Father Greer, have you ever heard anything about the Myer Estate being haunted?”

The question catches me off guard, and all I can manage is, “Excuse me?”

“Yes,” he says, seriously. “It’s one of the oldest houses in Myerton, and there have been some stories over the years about strange noises being heard, lights being seen from the outside, and other unexplained phenomena.”

“OK,” I say, still trying to figure out how to respond. I clear my throat and say, “Well, the house has seen its share of tragedy over the years—”

“I’m talking about Victoria Myer,” Nate says.

I take a deep breath. “Victoria Myer,” I repeat. “She was a daughter of Winthrop Myer, the founder of the town and the one who built the Myer Mansion. I remember there being something in the family history about a wounded Confederate soldier who fell in love with her while it was being used as a hospital after the Battle of Antietam. He died in her arms or something like that?”

“Well, yes and no,” Nate replies. “The story is that the soldier went looking for her in the dark one night. She couldn’t sleep and saw him. For some reason, she had a knife—why, no one knows, apparently. Victoria thought he was an intruder, met him in the dark on the staircase, and stabbed him. Seeing what she had done, she held him while he died and then killed herself with the same knife. Ever since, Victoria Myer’s been walking the halls of the house, still carrying a knife.”

“Well, that certainly is an interesting story, Nate,” I admit, “but I’m not sure what kind of light I can shed on it.”

“So when you were in the Myer Mansion,” Nate says, “you didn’t see anything strange?”

“Look, Nate, I saw a family tragedy unfold in that house, one that was all too human and had no, shall we say, supernatural involvement,” I say, getting just a little irritated with him.

“Just tell me about your own experience at the mansion.”

“Well, to be fair, it was pretty unique. I highly doubt anybody else would go through what I did.”

“Still, it will give readers a sense of what the mansion is like today.”

I hesitate. It seems like forever since the events involving the Myer family, the Watsons, and Father Leonard. Horrible, tragic events that included the deaths of four people. Events that triggered my crisis of faith and downward spiral that ended in a cabin during a Florida thunderstorm, with Helen stopping me from throwing my priesthood away. They are events I don’t like to think about, much less discuss.

Against my better judgement, I say, “OK. Not long after I returned to Myerton, I went there to talk to Win Myer, who left the estate to the church. The house was dark when I got there, but I knew Win was home because his car was in the driveway. I tried the door and it was unlocked so I went in. I could see a light off in the distance. It was coming from under Win’s office door so I went that way but when I opened the door, no one was inside. I started to leave but someone grabbed me from behind and I blacked out.

“I woke up hours later in a shed behind the house. I didn’t know who put me there. I was not locked in, so I got out and went back to the house. I won’t say anymore than this: what I discovered there was tragic, Nate, and we will not exploit it. Do you understand? It was the final chapter in a long, tragic story that no one needs to rehash.”

“Understood, Father. But would you care to comment about the ghost story as it relates to the mansion?”

“No, I would not like to comment. The Bible says ‘let the dead bury the dead’ and I think that’s a good idea here.”

Nate nods. “OK, Father, that’s fine. What is the Catholic Church’s official position on the existence of ghosts?”

“I do not believe the Church has a position one way or another,” I say. “I have not studied the question. The Catechism, in line with Sacred Scripture, does prohibit necromancy—the attempt to communicate with the dead.”

“So,” Nate says, “no séances.”

“Definitely not,” I say.

“Oh,” he says, sounding disappointed. “But of course the Church teaches there is an afterlife?”

“Of course, Nate,” I sigh. “The Church teaches that the soul lives on after the body dies.”

“So there could be ghosts?”

“I suppose, but it’s much more likely that Victoria Myer’s soul is in Purgatory than walking the halls of the Myer Mansion.”

“Do you believe in ghosts, Father?”

I smile. “Nate, I believe what the Church believes. I won’t comment further. I pray for the souls in Purgatory, as all Catholics should. Other than that, I have more interest in the living than the dead.”