― Donna Tartt
Poppy finally opened up to me about the reason for her melancholy—she was still in mourning for her dead fiance.
Her grief reminded me of Achilles' dream of a dead friend, whom he tried to embrace, only to find he disappeared.
Poppy's longing for Andre was just as tragic. She was seeking him in the ruins of the past when all he could ever be for her was a figure in a dream.
So then, why did she choose the house? Probably because it was associated with water and her dead lover. Grief is a potent vehicle for familiar spirits.
Depression can sometimes open us up to nuances in architecture we'd not normally notice and make us seek an objective correlative for our feelings. But it's not always negative. As Alain de Botton once said, we need to be a little sad before buildings can properly touch us.
The following morning after the storm, a town work crew showed up and removed the tree that had been blocking the drive.
"It's a miracle the Maple didn't come down on the house," the foreman told us, "by all rights, it should have fallen toward, not away from you. The way that tree broke, we couldn't have changed its direction even if we had ropes to pull it down."
So, my instincts were right. The Lares or protecting spirits were watching over the house. They meant no harm―it was Poppy's own grief that caused two drowned men to manifest at various times in response to her need.
Gail and Greg were more skeptical and on the drive back tried to offer more mundane explanations.
"Then, who was the older Scottish man who explained the cross in the ravine?" I asked.
The SUV was still as a summer night hushed by the sound of crickets.
Lacking an answer, I resolved to pursue that question myself by doing a full title search on the property and delving into local records.
But Greg seemed subdued during the trip. Gail and I both noticed it and exchanged puzzled glances. Finally, Gail broke the ice and asked him.
"You seem down Greg―anything happen between you and Poppy?"
"Not really," he shrugged, "it's just a bizarre situation―a lover's triangle but one partner's dead. She's still carrying a torch for Andre."
"Don't fold your hand too soon," Gail advised. "Give her time, It's only been a little over a year."
"I suppose you're right. We seem to get along."
"I'd say that's an understatement, the way she looks at you," Gail laughed.
"I'd definitely have to agree," I added. "You two are golden. And by the way, she loves architecture―why not invite her along on our next case.?
Greg's mood perked right up."You mean we have another case?"
"We do and it's unusual. I'll fill you in during the week."
I dropped off Greg at his house and drove Gail home.
"I want to do a deep research on Poppy's land title after lectures on Monday," I told her at her front door.
"Mind if I tag along?"
"Nothing would make me happier," I told her, taking her in my arms and kissing her until we were both breathless.
At length, she put both hands on my shoulder and grinning held me at arms' length. "I think we should stop here for today, Professor," she smiled mischievously.
"Only if you promise there'll be more on Monday," I laughed.
"Well, that depends if you still please me," she teased, gently closing the door.
I smiled all the way home picturing my newly formed team of house whisperers―Gail and me and Greg and Poppy.
I still wanted to learn the identity of the older Scottish man who informed us about the drowning. Perhaps, if we could lay that part of the mystery to rest Poppy might be able to get some further insight into the apparitions.
Gaining insight into why she chose this particular property could go a long way to helping her put things into perspective and begin to heal and recover…
And when she put her life back together she’d be able to work with us in helping others who had similar experiences.
So, we had to finally solve this mystery so that the four of us could embark on our next adventure, and wherever else the Fates had in store for us.
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