A Place for Secrets: A Southern Gothic

Broderick Estate

            A few days later, Morgan and I were headed to the open house for the Broderick Estate. Back in June, they had an auction to clear out the unwanted relics of bygone generations. The house was clean, and the newly polished hardwoods displayed beautifully, even against the dated wallpaper.

            “Well that is the first thing to go,” Morgan said from the side of her mouth. I playfully nudged her.

            “Morgan, you shouldn’t act like that if you really want the house.”  I walked into the empty kitchen to survey its condition. Morgan was no cook, but it was my favorite part of any house. I leaned over the kitchen sink which had a wonderful view of Knight’s lake. I loved this neighborhood. There were always young families in back yards playing and grills smoking on the weekends. It was just the place I would like to see my kids grow up in.

            “I only want the house if you come with it.” A deep accented voice rose behind me and broke me out of my own imagination. He was sharply dressed in a navy suit and a thin tie. I had to lift my chin to meet his eyes, even from across the room. His hair was gelled, and he had a hard part on the side. Where did he come from?

            “What I mean to say is, you look so perfect there I couldn’t bear to buy this house from under you.” He corrected with a crooked smile.

            “Do you look for open houses just to use that line?” I quipped feigning more annoyance that I felt. I leaned on the counter with my hands behind me.

            “I am sure it doesn’t matter, but no.” He blushed and looked at me through his lashes. I wish he would leave. He cleared the kitchen in a few steps with his hand outstretched. I involuntarily withdrew to the corner. His smile died and his hand retreated to his pocket.

            “Don’t tell me I frighten you?” Although he was not close, he was not at a distance. I started to feel hot.

            “Have I made a foe before a friend?” He timidly offered his hand. I looked at it, uncertain if I should make contact. “I’m Henry August McRory, but you could call me Harry if you like.”

            “Anne Graye Stanhope.” I took his hand firmly just like my father taught me.

            “Anne, I like that name.” He held my hand close.

            “I go by Graye.”

            “Hmmm, but I like Anne.”

            “I don’t think I particularly care what you like.” I pulled my hand away decidedly.

            “What are you even doing here?” I tried to sound authoritative.

            “Looking for a house. I am taking over my family’s law practice here.” There was really only one practice in town, but since Mr. and Mrs. Sanders retired people had to rely on court appointed lawyers or go to the next town over.

            “How are you related to the Sanders?” The only family of theirs that I knew of lived abroad in Scotland.

            “They are my mother’s family. Her brother since you are so concerned.”

            “But you aren’t Scottish.” It was out before I could catch myself. He chuckled heartily.

            “Well spotted, I am only half Scottish. My parents are still there, but I went to law school in America. A little place called Yale. You might know of it.” Wow. He was the worst.

            “How very fortunate you are.” I hoped my tone conveyed my dislike.

            “Anne, I would very much like to take you to dinner.”  Upon closer inspection his crooked smile revealed a dimple. Hate rose in me.

            “I’m sorry, what?” Could he not tell that he had made a poor impression?

            “It could be lunch. We could go out of town if you wanted to avoid snoops. I am pretty flexible.” Oh, he thought this whole charade had worked.

            “Mr. McRory, I would rather kiss a snake than be seen with you.”  I walked away calmly even though I felt like I was on fire.

            “Does that mean I can buy the house?” He smugly careened to see me turn the corner.

            “Where the hell have you been?” Morgan asked through a forced smile.

            “I will tell you later. I’ve met your competition.” Mr. McRory entered the room cajoling an entranced Jen. They were talking about “renovations” and “potential.”  I nudged Morgan and signaled toward him with my head. She mouthed “OH MY GOD.”

            “Terrible person. Don’t get ideas.”

            “But I love terrible people, who better to spar with?” She was truly a one of a kind.

            “I thought there was another interested buyer?” There was only Mr. McRory and us. Jen’s phone rang and her face went white.

            “Uh, we have had a cash offer above asking. I am willing to hear other offers, but if not, we can conclude this showing.” We all looked around as if the lights had been extinguished and we were being forced from a theatre before the last act.

            “Are you kidding me, Jen?” I couldn’t stop Morgan’s outburst.

            “Listen Morgan, I am sorry. This is an offer I can’t turn down, and you wouldn’t either.”

            “Not the point,” Morgan griped.

            “Harry, I am sorry about this. I am happy to talk over the offer if you want to counter.”

            “No ma’am, I am happy to concede. It is clear that this house is meant for someone else.” He looked at me closely. Damnit. He made me flush with a look.

            “Let’s go, M.”  I wanted out posthaste.  I walked out quickly and left Morgan behind. I needed to get out of there. I could tell I was about to have a panic attack. I can’t be unfaithful. I can’t be like Drumm. He’s just like Drumm. I want him. I need him. I can’t possibly breathe right now. Why can’t I breathe right now? Please just calm down. Just shut up and breathe. My mind kept racing I couldn’t slow down. I bowed over in the front yard and then I couldn’t see anything. I could feel arms around me, squeezing my body into submission. I started to shake. A hand grabbed my face.

“Anne, ANNE, I need you to stay with me. I need you to breathe in with me.” I tried. “Good, good, good, breathe out with me.” I did. “Ok, ok, you’re doing just fine. Just fine. Try it again.” He was looking into my eyes. Coaching me to calm down. It was working. “I’ve got some water. I am going to let you go, and we are going to have some, OK?” He maneuvered me to the porch steps and let me go. He gently helped me drink some water.

“Ok, how are you feeling?” His normally voice had changed slightly. I could hear a Scottish drawl that wasn’t there before.

“I..” Just as I started to speak Morgan hurried out of the house.

“Graye, I saw you leave. Are you ok?” She leered at Mr. McRory with great suspicion.

“I just had a little spell. Mr. McRory was kind enough to give me some water.” Morgan knew better than to pry. She had witnessed my attacks firsthand and had to slap me to bring me back one time. Between Drumm and my parents’ deaths anything could set me off.

“Well let’s get you home. Mr. McRory, thank you for your timely assistance, but I have got it from here.” Morgan helped me to the car, and she began to drive. I could see Mr. McRory in the rearview and his brows were knitted together.

“What was it this time?” Morgan gently prodded.

“Drumm. I miss him.”