The Babysitter
Rhoda Hayward's divorce from her wealthy entrepreneur husband was an amicable one mainly because Rhoda agreed to forego alimony in exchange for receiving full custody of the couple's three-year-old daughter, Lacy. The arrangement suited her husband perfectly. He cared little for the responsibilities associated with fatherhood, much preferring the carefree life of a playboy. In fact, no sooner was the marriage officially dissolved than the handsome John Hayward flew to London with a twenty-two-year-old aspiring actress to celebrate his newly acquired freedom.
Once her husband was out of her life for good, Rhoda immediately sold their former apartment in New York City's fashionable SoHo neighborhood and bought a home for her daughter and herself in a small town in northeastern Massachusetts. The house was a lovely old colonial set on more than three acres of property. Rhoda planned on putting a swing set, sliding pond, sandbox and wading pool in the large backyard so that the little girl, who had too often been confined to the interior of the apartment building, could play outside where she would get plenty of fresh air and exercise.
With the move to the country, Rhoda had to hire two women to help her manage the large, three-story house and to watch over Lacy while she devoted part of her day to her career as a doll designer. The first of the two new employees was a housekeeper, Rowen Barris, who, like Rhoda herself, was a newcomer to the New England area. Rowen had lived in northeastern New Jersey most of her life and moved to Massachusetts only two months earlier after losing her husband in a tragic automobile accident. The second woman—much older than both Rhoda and Rowen—was babysitter Mildred Downs, a local woman whose family had originally settled in the area in the late seventeenth century.
Thankfully, the two women lived alone and readily agreed to Rhoda's suggestion that they move into the house with her and Lacy.
"There are two large, comfortable bedrooms, a sitting room and a full bathroom on the third floor that will offer you both a measure of privacy," Rhoda informed them.
"I'm quite familiar with the layout of this old place," Mildred declared in her brusque, no-nonsense manner.
"Of course. You must have known the previous owners."
"Ayah. I've known several people who lived in this house over the years."
* * *
For the first few weeks, little Lacy Hayward, unsure of the strange surroundings, clung to her mother and followed her from one room to the next, but eventually, she adjusted to her new environment. Oddly enough, it was the housekeeper, not her daughter, who worried Rhoda most. Not long after moving into the house, Rowen began to have trouble sleeping at night.
"It's silly," the young widow claimed, blushing with embarrassment. "I'm behaving like a child. After all, don't all old houses have noises?"
"Would you prefer a room on the second floor?" Rhoda asked.
"No, I'll be fine. There's no need for you to make special arrangements for me."
"I believe the housekeeper's sleeplessness must be contagious," Rhoda told the babysitter several days later. "I'm beginning to think I hear strange sounds at night myself."
"Nonsense! It's nothing but the old floorboards and joists," Mildred insisted, summarily dismissing the subject.
Night after night, however, Rhoda lay awake in her king-size bed listening to imaginary footsteps on the floorboards. Several times she ran out into the hall, convinced she had heard someone enter her daughter's bedroom, only to find Lacy alone in her room, sleeping peacefully in her canopy bed. As her fitful slumber began to take its toll on Rhoda, she started to imagine all kinds of dangers threatening her young child. In particular, she felt uneasy whenever she walked into a room and found Lacy alone with the housekeeper.
"Where is Mildred?" Rhoda asked anxiously one afternoon upon discovering Lacy and Rowen sitting together at the kitchen table having milk and homemade tollhouse cookies.
"She said she felt a headache coming on and went upstairs to take a short nap. I'll keep an eye on Lacy until she wakes up."
"I wish she wouldn't leave the child with you. You have enough to do as it is."
"I don't mind," Rowen said, looking longingly at the little girl. "My husband and I wanted children, but ... well, I suppose it was never meant to be. I envy you, Mrs. Hayward. You have this wonderful house and your beautiful daughter."
The woman's words struck a nerve in her employer.
Just how much does Rowen envy me? Rhoda wondered apprehensively.
* * *
November brought with it the first taste of winter's cold weather. Once the temperatures dropped below the freezing point, little Lacy began spending more time playing indoors, yet her mother's fears for the little girl's safety did not subside. The strange sounds Rhoda heard at night continued to echo through the old house, and soon her other senses detected strange phenomena.
"Do you smell that?" she asked the housekeeper when she walked into her daughter's room one afternoon.
"Smell what?"
"It smells like an air freshener."
Rowen sniffed the air and replied, "It's probably the furniture polish. I just finished dusting Lacy's bookshelf."
"No, that's not it. The polish has a lemon scent. What I smell is more like lilacs."
Rowen closed her eyes and breathed in more deeply. There was a definite sweet, floral odor in the air.
"You're right, Mrs. Hayward. It does smell like lilacs in here."
"You're not wearing perfume by any chance, are you?"
"No. In fact, I haven't used perfume since my husband died."
Mildred, when questioned several minutes later, insisted she could smell nothing except the faint scent of lemon in the furniture polish.
* * *
Rhoda sat at her drafting table early one morning, sketching a design for a porcelain Japanese toddler doll when Rowen knocked on the door and asked to speak with her.
"I'm sorry to disturb you while you're working," the housekeeper apologized.
The young woman's eyes were red. Perhaps she was suffering from a cold or lack of sleep, but Rhoda suspected she'd been crying.
"Don't think anything of it. Come in and sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?"
"No, thank you," Rowen replied, sitting in the chair opposite her employer.
"You seem upset today. What's wrong?" Rhoda inquired.
"I'm afraid I can't work here any longer," she blurted out and then broke down sobbing.
"Have I done something to upset you? If I have, I assure you it was unintentional."
"No, not at all. You're a wonderful person to work for."
"If it's Mildred, I'll have a word with her."
The housekeeper smiled through her tears.
"She's not the warmest person I've ever met, but we do manage to get along."
"What is it then?"
Rowen hesitated and then timidly confessed.
"It's this house, Mrs. Hayward. I've come to believe it's haunted."
Rhoda was frankly astonished by the housekeeper's words. Although she had also heard the strange sounds in the night and smelled scents that could not logically be explained, she simply refused to consider that their causes were supernatural in nature. She was an educated woman, after all, and refused to believe in ridiculous superstitions.
"I'm sure you're wrong. There must be a rational explanation for the sounds we hear at night."
"And the smells?"
"Yes, I'm sure there's a plausible reason for them, too."
"What about the singing?"
"Singing? What singing?"
"From Lacy's bedroom. Last night I heard a woman's voice singing what sounded like a lullaby. When I opened the door, I saw your daughter sound asleep with no one else in the room."
"Perhaps Mildred had the radio on upstairs in her room or ...."
"It wasn't a recording. It was a woman's voice, and it was coming from the bedroom."
"That's impossible. You must have only thought you heard it."
"I'm not imagining things, Mrs. Hayward. I know what I heard. I suspected you wouldn't believe me. I'm only telling you this because I'm afraid your daughter might be in danger."
"Lacy in danger?" Rhoda echoed. "What makes you think that?"
"It's a feeling I have. I can't explain it, but I believe the entity that's haunting this house wants your little girl."
* * *
Several hours later, Rowen packed her bags and said goodbye to her employer.
"Here is your check," Rhoda said as she handed the young woman an envelope. "I've included two weeks' severance pay as well."
"Thank you for your generosity. You didn't have to do that, especially since I'm leaving you on such short notice."
"I fully understand your desire to leave. You're frightened. I wouldn't dream of asking you to stay."
In all honesty, Rhoda was relieved to be rid of the young woman. While Rowen had been an excellent housekeeper, her talk of ghosts and haunted houses could be upsetting. She certainly didn't want her daughter exposed to such paranoia.
"I think her husband's tragic death might have unsettled the poor woman," Rhoda suggested to Mildred when she informed the babysitter of the housekeeper's hasty departure.
"It wouldn't surprise me," the babysitter replied. "When my sister's husband died, she went right off her rocker!"
"Really?"
Rhoda was surprised by the older woman's comments. Mildred had never once spoken about her family in all the months she had worked as Lacy's babysitter.
"Ayah," she replied in her thick New England accent. "The poor thing wound up being committed to Danvers State Hospital. You being from New York wouldn't know that up until it closed in 1992, Danvers was the state mental hospital. My sister was there for nearly twenty years. She eventually died there, in fact."
"How horrible!"
"Most folks around these parts say she got off easy. They feel she should have been executed rather than institutionalized."
"Why? What did she do?"
"She murdered her own daughter, a sweet thing about the same age as your little girl."
"Oh, my God!" Rhoda exclaimed in horror.
"It's not that surprising, really. To be honest, there was always a strain of insanity in our family. My father was a bit 'odd.' So was his mother. Of course, neither of them was a murderer like my sister. She must have had one of those split personalities they're always writing about. One moment she was sitting there as sane as you and me and the next she took the child out of her bed and drowned her in the pond out back."
Rhoda froze.
"Your sister drowned her daughter on my property?"
"Ayah. She and her husband used to live in this house."
* * *
Rhoda didn't sleep at all that night; in fact, she didn't even bother going to bed. Instead, she spent the night sitting up in a rocking chair in Lacy's bedroom, never taking her eyes off the sleeping child.
The following morning, immediately after her daughter finished eating breakfast, Rhoda announced she was going into town.
"Are you going to see about hiring another housekeeper?" Mildred asked.
"Yes," Rhoda lied. "I'll put an ad in the local newspaper. Until I can hire someone, I'll take care of the housework."
After leaving the house, however, Rhoda got into her Subaru Tribeca and drove straight to the nearby public library where she searched through old copies of the local newspaper, looking for details of the death of Mildred's young niece. Even though the tragic murder had happened over forty years earlier, there was a wealth of information on file. The heinous crime must have had as great an impact on the small town as the Lizzie Borden case had had on the city of Fall River.
According to the accounts in the newspaper, Deanna Corwin's husband had died under mysterious circumstances. Although no one could prove her complicity in his death, it was generally believed that his wife killed him before she murdered her daughter. Testimony by the defendant's own sister, Mildred Downs, confirmed that Deanna had been acting irrationally. The prosecutor hypothesized that grief—or guilt—over her husband's death pushed the young mother over the edge and caused her to murder her child.
After reading through all the published articles on the murder and subsequent trial, Rhoda brought the file folder back to the librarian.
"If it's information on the murder of the little Corwin girl you want, you should talk to Archer Boles," the woman suggested.
"Who is he?"
"Archer is the town's former chief of police, although, at the time of the child's murder, he was only a rookie on the force. But he probably knows more about the crime than what was printed in the newspaper."
Rhoda got directions to the retired police chief's home and drove directly there, hoping the man would not be too upset by the unannounced visit. When former Chief Boles answered the door, Rhoda introduced herself and sincerely apologized for the intrusion.
"Don't be silly," he chuckled good-naturedly. "At my age, I have no pressing matters to attend to. Most of the time I just sit in my recliner and watch game shows. I also watch the soap operas in the afternoon, but I never admit to that in front of my old police buddies."
"Your secret is safe with me, Chief," Rhoda assured him.
"So, Jane McPherson down at the library sent you here to talk to me about the Corwin murder, did she? Only homicide in this town in all the years I was on the force."
"Having grown up in New York City, I'd say that record is pretty incredible."
"Yes," Archer agreed, his good humor vanishing. "Too bad we didn't catch the murderer."
"But wasn't Deanna Corwin tried, found guilty and sent to Danvers State Hospital?"
"That she was, but I don't believe for one moment that she killed her daughter—or her husband, for that matter."
"But her own sister was sure of her guilt and testified against her."
"That's what swayed the jury to find the poor woman guilty. Mildred and Deanna were in the house alone when police found the little girl's body in the pond. Poor Deanna was beside herself with grief, crying and screaming. It was heartbreaking to see her carrying on so. People couldn't make any sense of what she was saying, so all the police had to go on was Mildred's version of what happened. She was the one who said her sister took the little girl out of her bedroom and drowned her."
"Well, surely Mildred wouldn't say her sister committed such a monstrous crime if she wasn't absolutely certain."
"I'm not so sure about that, and neither was the detective assigned to the case, but he couldn't prove otherwise."
"Why would Mildred implicate her sister if Deanna was innocent?"
"You'll keep what I'm about to tell you confidential, won't you? Because I'd have to deny it if it became public."
"This is only for my own information. I promise it will go no further."
"When Deanna first met her husband she had just returned home from college. At the time, Ike Corwin was dating her sister, Mildred—nothing serious, mind you. He was just taking her to the movies and such. He immediately fell in love with Deanna and stopped seeing her sister."
"How did Mildred react to being cast aside like that?"
"On the surface, she seemed to accept it pretty well. She even served as the maid of honor at Deanna's wedding. But on more than one occasion, I saw a look on Mildred's face that made me wonder if she wasn't still attracted to Ike. I don't know for sure, but I'd be willing to bet money she did her damnedest to get him back. I don't believe he was interested, though. No, Ike loved Deanna, and he adored the little girl."
"Then what do you think actually happened?"
"I suspect Mildred was tired of waiting and hoping Ike would come back to her. I believe she might have been desperate and tried to seduce him. He must have rejected her, so she killed him."
"Even if Mildred did kill Ike Corwin, why would she kill her niece?"
"Revenge, most likely. She not only got rid of the man who rejected her, but by drowning the little girl she also got even with her sister for taking him away from her in the first place."
"But I know Mildred," Rhoda argued. "I just don't believe she could be so heartless as to murder a small child."
Archer Boles shrugged his shoulders and said, "It's only an opinion, mind you. I'm afraid we may never know the truth."
* * *
"I'm home," Rhoda announced when she walked in the front door.
The house was quiet, and she assumed that Lacy was taking her afternoon nap. As Rhoda walked up the staircase, she heard a woman's voice coming from inside her daughter's bedroom. She momentarily stopped at the door and listened. The singing suddenly stopped.
"Sleep little girl," the voice said.
Rhoda pushed open the door, expecting to find Mildred standing beside the canopy bed, but no one was there. Rhoda's knees felt weak, and her hands trembled.
"I know someone is in here. Where are you?" she cried.
When Mildred heard her employer's voice coming from the room beneath her, she put aside her book and went downstairs. She looked into Lacy's bedroom and found Rhoda hastily packing the little girl's clothes in a suitcase.
"What's going on?" the babysitter asked.
"We're leaving—now. I won't spend another night under this roof."
"What the hell has got into you?" Mildred demanded to know, obviously forgetting that Rhoda was her employer.
"Rowen was right. This place is haunted. I heard the woman's voice myself."
Fear momentarily flickered in the babysitter's eyes; then, just as suddenly, it vanished.
"Don't be ridiculous! People can't come back from the dead," she vehemently insisted. "Now, I'll take Lacy downstairs and give her some lunch while you unpack that bag."
Rhoda was about to order the babysitter out of the room—fire her on the spot, if necessary—when the ghost of a woman materialized beside her daughter's canopy bed.
"You'll not harm this little one," the ghost warned the babysitter.
Mildred's face turned white with shock.
"You're dead!" she screamed with terror. "You died in Danvers State Hospital more than twenty years ago."
"I was a fool to believe that you were happy for me and Ike and too blinded by a sister's affection to see the hatred and jealousy you were harboring. My misplaced trust cost the lives of my husband and daughter, but I'll never let you harm this innocent little girl."
"You can't stop me," Mildred cried defiantly. "You're not real."
To prove her point, the babysitter approached the sleeping child, but Deanna's spirit blocked her way. Mildred would not be deterred so easily and tried to go around the revenant. With a wail of sorrow, the ghost reached out a semitransparent hand toward the old woman's chest and grasped her beating heart with its icy-cold fingers. Moments later Mildred's eyes glazed over, and she fell down dead on the floor.
The ghost then turned toward Rhoda and said, "You needn't leave this house. Neither you nor your daughter is in any danger. I promise you."
Without another word, the ghost disappeared, leaving behind the lingering scent of lilacs.
* * *
The middle-aged woman applying for the housekeeping job was not put off by rumors of a ghost that could sometimes be heard singing behind the door of the little girl's bedroom. She was an intelligent woman, but she also knew there were often things that couldn't be explained by modern science, and she accepted them without question.
"I'm glad to know you're not easily frightened by such things," Rhoda said with relief. "My previous housekeeper became extremely upset when she suspected the house might be haunted."
"Even if there is a ghost, I don't suppose it poses a threat to anyone," the woman laughed.
"No, I don't imagine a ghost could really harm someone," the employer agreed with a smile.
The interview was soon concluded, and the woman was hired.
"You can move your things into the upstairs bedroom whenever you're ready."
Rhoda saw no reason to seek out another babysitter, for the ghost of Deanna Corwin would always be there to watch over Lacy.
Rhoda's gaze went to the old framed photograph on the fireplace mantel. Deanna had once been a very beautiful woman, Rhoda thought, and the shadow of her beauty lingered long after her death. Her eyes, when Rhoda had seen them, held immeasurable sadness and a wealth of compassion, and there was no sign of insanity or evil there. If there was a strain of madness in the Downs family, it had not touched Deanna. More than likely, Rhoda realized, it was Mildred who had been the insane one.
Salem, I swear I wasn't trying to drown you. I was only trying to give you a bath.
