Her Deal with the Devil

Chapter 1: Grandmother Dearest

     Looking at the letter in front of her, Iris frowned deeply. Apparently, her grandmother had just passed. And good riddance. She was a mean ole--lets not speak ill of the dead. Let’s just say, thank the Lord she was called to glory...however hot it may be. No, the reason Iris was frowning was due to the fact that the letter contained the deed to her grandmother’s old house and a will, with stipulations attached. 

    Apparently Iris had been willed the house, with the freedom to do almost whatever she wanted with it, providing she live in the house while it is happening. There goes a demolition job.

    “I will admit Ms. Hamilton, I was surprised to hear from you after so long. I was all but certain you had eschewed whatever benefits your grandmother had given you.”

    Iris scoffed, and smirked at Mr. Simmons her hometown’s oldest, and probably only, lawyer.

    “Listen, Bob. I just never got around to it. We weren’t on the best of terms, so I figured if she did leave something, it was more likely to leave a bad taste in my mouth, so I just avoided it. And I can see I was right.” 

    Bob shrugged his shoulders and put up his hands in mock surrender. Iris looked back down at the letter.

     “Is anyone living there at the moment?”

    Bob shook his head. 

    “Marian was very clear, no renters or anything of that sort until after you had come to stay in the house. So the only people that have been in that house are the groundskeeper/maintenance man and the monthly maid that manages the property.”

    Iris clenched her jaw.

    “Dear old grandmother thought of everything, didn’t she.”

    Bob, in spite of himself, hummed his admiration.

    “That woman could strike a deal with the Devil.” 

                                                                                        ***

Iris

    My ‘86 ford ltd whined as I pulled into the driveway, protesting for the long trek it had endured. Carrefour is a small town on the east coast and it was approximately 500 miles from where I live. Or lived, I should say. Thanks to my grandmother, this was my new home for the foreseeable future. At least until I could find a buyer. I refuse to spend more than six months in this hellhole. Even if that means I have to take this accursed house apart, brick by brick.

    As I got out of the car, I focused in on the house in question. It was beautiful to be honest. It was a two-story, four-bedroom house with a carriage-house garage. The red brick was weathered, but it just gave the house more character, instead of making it look decrepit. The house sat on a hill, overlooking everything. The stone walkway was lined with rose bushes that led up to a beautiful stained-glass door. It had always blown my mind how beautiful the doorway to Hell looked.

    Hearing a car pull up, I turned around. Oh, it was just Bob. I waved listlessly before jamming my hands back in my pockets. Being back here was so uncomfortable. But at least it was a roof and four walls over my head. Which is more than I can say about my current situation. As he got out of the car he waved fervently, a huge smile transforming the old lawyer I knew into more of a grandfather, happy to see a long-lost relative.

    “I am glad to see you Ms. Hamilton. How was the drive?”

    I smiled back, his jovial nature infectious.

    “Oh it wasn’t anything Fiona and I couldn’t handle,” I said, patting my old car affectionately. Bob nodded, looking the car over in appreciation.

    “She looks to be in good shape!”

    I poked my chest out a little, allowing a small bit of pride to warm my heart.

    “I take care of her religiously. She’s got a few dings and dents but she runs like a champ.”

    Bob nodded, and then motioned to the house, keys in hand.

    “Shall we?”

    I motioned back, indicating he go first.

    “Lead the way.”

    The inside was breath-taking. It looked as if the house had been staged for buyers, not a speck of dust to be seen. I hoped the maid was reasonable, because there was no way I could keep this place as spotless as she had.

    Bob, noticing my face, chuckled and said, “the maid and the maintenance man are paid for the next 50 years, entirely out of your grandmother’s estate. She wanted to make sure there were no issues or concerns that might cause you to back out.”

    I looked back at him quizzically. “Why was she so adamant about me coming back here? She didn’t even like me. It’s not like her to go through so much to keep me happy.”

    Bob shrugged his shoulders as he moved further into the house.

    “People change Ms. Hamilton. Perhaps your grandmother felt poorly about how she handled things with you and your mother and wanted to make amends.”

    I snorted derisively, but held my tongue. There was no need to give Bob nightmares regarding how grandmother ‘handled’ things with me and my mom. There had to be some other reason. As I made my way through the house, I recognized places from my childhood. The tiny trap door under the stairs that led to a secret room. My grandmother used to lock me in there with no light, food, or water when I had the nerve to talk back or disagree whenever she disparaged my father. The pantry, that she locked once she realized I would sneak food after she had starved me for a few days. Such memories. It is still escaping me as to why anyone would ever want to tear this place down. Heh. If my eyes rolled any further they would get stuck in the back of my head.

    The kitchen had been updated, all stainless steel appliances and a range on an island that any professional chef would kill for. The sink was right in front of a big bay window that overlooked the backyard. If you could call it a backyard. It looked more like the garden of Eden. There were beautiful trees, in a semicircle pattern, a little stream that led into a serenity pool, and there in the middle of it all...was a grave.

    “What the hell?!” 

    Bob jumped and turned to see what I was looking at.

    “Oh yes, your grandmother insisted she be buried on the property. She even had Tristan prepare this garden about 2 years prior to her passing. She insisted that everything be perfect for ‘her return.’”

    “Excuse me? ‘Her’?”

    Bob looked unbothered.

    “Well, I am assuming she meant you...?”

    I looked back out toward the garden, a nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I was almost certain I wasn’t the ‘her,’ grandmother was talking about. Trying to push it out of my mind, I turned away and headed back to the stairs.

    “Oh Ms. Hamilton, don’t forget, the master bedroom downstairs now belongs to you.”

    I stilled, my hand on the banister and my foot on the first step.

    “It does, doesn’t it,” I murmured. I changed direction and walked into the master bedroom. A beautiful mahogany king-size bed took up the majority of the room. It was flanked by two matching nightstands, and directly opposite was a matching armoire, with a 65-inch TV on top. The bedspread was a deep red, satin material, with black accents and pillows. Not really grandmother’s style...at least it hadn’t been when I lived here.

    Making my way to the adjoining bathroom, I let out a soft gasp, as I took in the waterfall shower head, in a shower big enough for two, next to a beautiful whirlpool tub that looked comfy enough to relax and lounge in. His and her sinks, and mirrors in every place you could ever need them. Whose house was this and what had they done with my grandmother?

    “Bob. When did Marian start renovating this house? It did not look like this when I lived here.”

    Bob stroked his beard, deep in thought.

    “Around the same time as the garden I believe. Something happened to her Ms. Hamilton. She suddenly gained a lot of fervor and vigor back, even in spite of the cancer prognosis. Maybe she had made her peace and decided that she would make things better for you when you got here.”

    Looking around, while I couldn’t necessarily agree with Bob that she did it for me, I could tell that something had changed. The very frugal, minimalistic grandmother that I had known was no longer here. Some pleasure-seeking, money spending demon had taken her place.

    I took the opportunity in the bathroom to freshen up. My warm brown skin looked sallow and haggard. My normally vibrant brown eyes lifeless, with bags the size of a carry-ons underneath them. I looked like I had been ‘rode’ hard and put up wet, with none of the fun from in between.

    I adjusted my scarf, the knot I had twisted it into coming loose. Leaning on the sink counter, I stared into the mirror.

    “You can do this. She’s gone and buried. Even if it is only 30 feet away. Go into town, get a realtor, and sell this nightmare.”

    Feeling more confidence than I had at the moment, I marched out of the bathroom and followed Bob up the stairs. Opening the first door on my right, I was faced with a more stereotypical room for a grandmother: a guest room. The conservative floral fabric with accentuated pillows were a welcome change after the red-light district downstairs. I took a peek in the guest bathroom to see a modest shower, with a normal showerhead--- ha! Plebeian!--and one sink.

    Satisfied, I opened the door closest to the stairs, only to stop in shock, and confusion. It was my mother’s room. From when we lived here. It was actually my parent’s room, but any trace of my father had been erased from this space long ago. My grandmother, as I’ve mentioned, was very thorough. 

    I felt myself venture further into the room as if on auto-pilot and before I knew it I was sitting on the bed. The same bed my parents had occupied 22 years ago. Looking at their room I could see that nothing had changed. Well, almost nothing. As you looked about the room, everything felt slightly off. You could see the Emptiness screaming out at you, grabbing its hair by the scalp.

    Look! Look... It said. We are but a half, there is no whole.

    As I looked around, my heart ached. Every picture, my father had been perfectly cropped out, no trace of him to be seen. My mother’s makeup, lying on the dresser, had been untouched. But the jewelry box that held his cuff links was gone. 

    The same with the closet. All of her clothes were in the exact place she’d left them. My father’s clothes? Gone. 

Tie rack? Gone.

 Hat rack? Gone. 

Gone! Gone! Gone! As if he’d never existed. 

    The problem was, I remembered a few of these pictures. My memory’s a bit fuzzy, but the beautiful blossom pink dress and the way it practically glowed upon my mother’s ebony skin, was something I would never forget.

    That is how I noticed my grandmother had cropped me out too.

    I left the room quietly, both disturbed and intrigued by what I saw. Had Marian paid someone to literally sit and crop me and my father out of pictures so that she could recreate mom’s bedroom? Without the “mistakes”?

    Striding to the last door on the left, I find that it’s already open, and Bob is looking around at my 17-year-old room, the exact same way that I had left it. The Pretty Ricky posters lining my wall, a couple of NSYNC posters, Destiny’s Child, Aaliyah. Nothing changed or altered. 

    Now I am confused. If she took the time to crop me out of the family pics...why did she leave my room untouched... it just seems...strange. Bob and I back out of the room slowly, the former with an arched eyebrow and a cheeky grin. Good lord. Now Bob is judging my taste in music. And men.

    “You know Ms. Hamilton, my little gal Earnestine would listen to Destiny’s Child all the time. No shame.” He then proceeded to walk down the steps humming “I’m A Survivor”. I chuckled and followed. After Bob had shown me around the property, all 10 acres of it, he departed, making me promise that I would come visit him and the ‘missus’ as soon as I felt settled. Oh, and I was welcome to bring a Mr. Hamilton, if there were one. Ha! Hard pass. That was one person I was hoping I would never have to see again. Seeing as it was getting late, I hurriedly transferred everything out of Fiona to the house and placed her in the garage. She was dependable, but old. There were a few holes I hadn’t gotten ‘round to filling just yet.

    Sitting in the den, lounging on the couch, I sighed. I had been purposely avoiding going to bed in either of my rooms. But I couldn’t go to sleep in my mom’s because it was still super weird for me every time I had to go in there. The guest room should be kept as untouched as possible because, you never know. Not to mention, I didn’t want to have to climb back up them stairs after using the amazing shower and bath in the master suite.

    Going to the master bathroom, I got my bath prepared. I quickly jumped in the shower while my water was filling, amazed that the water pressure hadn’t suffered at all. I quickly washed off, exited the shower and slid into the waiting tub. The water was hot, almost boiling, which felt amazing. I felt like I was melting, and it was so soothing. I laid back in the tub, my head resting on its lip, and closed my eyes. I felt myself dozing, when suddenly I heard a loud thump, coming from outside. 

    Bolting upright almost immediately, I drained the tub, hurriedly got out and dried off. I slipped on a t-shirt and some yoga pants and made my way to the bedroom, cutting lights off as I went. I wasn’t going to call out for anybody that might be there, because...what if they answered? I know that no one was supposed to be here and that I was all I needed to know. I grabbed the baseball bat that I had taken out of Fiona and got myself in the furthest corner from both the windows and the bedroom door. Holding my breath, weapon poised, I listened earnestly, hoping that my worst fear hadn’t been realized. Praying he hadn’t found me.

    I woke up the next morning, cramped and cradling my bat in the corner of my bedroom. I stretched, groaning as I tried to rub out the crick in my neck. So much for trying to figure out which bed to sleep in. To be fair, it wasn’t the worst sleep of my life, but I am not in a hurry to repeat it either.

    After eating a quick breakfast of cereal and toast, washing it down with coffee, I made a mental note to reach out and thank Bob for stocking the fridge for me. Although he would probably mention that it was at my grandmother’s request again. I rolled my eyes and looked out at the garden of Eden.

    Was it just me, or did the dirt around her grave look disturbed? I moved closer to the sink, peering out the bay windows. 

    “Whoomph!”

     “Ahhh!!!”   

    Something had dropped off the roof, right in front of me

    I had grabbed a knife and was hunkered behind the kitchen island faster than you could blink. Slowly peering back outside, I realized it was just a cat....A black cat. That seemed to be shooting daggers at me with its eyes. It finally went about its way, and I breathed a sigh of relief. That must have been the loud thump that I heard last night. I really needed to get a hold of myself. I covered my tracks well. There is no way anyone found me way out here in Carrefour.

    Mentally resetting, I got ready to head into town. My hair, dyed a burgundy red, had been in two-strand twists, but was now in a beautiful twist-out, the tendrils falling past my shoulders. I laid my edges, put on some mascara and gloss, and went to my suitcase.

    I was pear-shaped, with hips, butt, and thighs for days, but up top, I just had a couple of handfuls. That’s all you really need anyway. As long as it keeps the baby fed. I pulled out a graphic t-shirt that said “If you can read this, you’re too close,” and paired it with some dark wash jeans and some black sneakers. I grabbed my wallet and my keys and headed out the back door. 

    As I stood in front of the garage, I started to shiver. The garage door was slightly open. I am 100% sure I closed it. The garage door is not automatic, so I know it wasn’t a malfunction. I hurry back inside and retrieve my faithful bat. I make my way back to the garage, checking every nook and cranny--even inside the car and trunk before I inspected the door. The latch that was supposed to secure the door was actually defective. You wouldn’t be able to tell unless you tried to close it though. It clicked into place but would slip out a few minutes later. 

    I let out a huge breath that I had been holding in. Alright, now Iris. Calm down. You are psyching yourself out for nothing. Marian is dead, and Daniel is halfway across the country. You’re safe. Do not let an old housebreak you when a man couldn’t.  

    Pushing the garage door completely open, I got in Fiona and headed to Carrefour. While I was in town, I would make sure to pick up a bottle of wine. I needed something to calm my nerves. This was going to be a long six months.