Best Man for the Job
by
Mary Elizabeth Overstreet
- 2 -
It was cool and dark outside when Barnabas stamped angrily into the Old House again. Maggie was seeing Jeff Clark this evening; he had to know what their relationship was now. Maggie may have been teasing him. If so, he thought resolutely, she would not get a chance to do so again.
"Willie!" he bellowed.
The young man snapped awake. He had fallen asleep while taking a break from working. Fatigue from a long day and a restless night filled with bad dreams about Carolyn and vicious dogs had him feeling pretty rotten and lonely. But he had come to the conclusion that Barnabas had not truly made him think the dogs were attacking him that night. He thought they must have sensed the change in the vampire in much the same way they knew when he wanted to kill someone. The animals must have been frightened away when they saw him. Willie didn't know if he was correct in his thinking, but it took a little pressure off his unstable nerves.
He was halfway to the stairs when Barnabas called again. The man's tone of voice made Willie feel wretched with fear. "I'm coming!" he called hurriedly.
"What took you so long?" Barnabas asked as he came up.
"I-I—"
"Never mind. I have something I want you to do."
Willie swallowed a yawn. "What is it?"
Rather uncomfortable at appearing insecure to his servant, Barnabas cleared his throat and looked down. He noticed a small rip in Willie's brown sweater and frowned, suddenly distracted by it. "I want you to go up to Collinwood," he said, tearing his gaze from the rip and fixing his mind and eyes on Willie's face. "Maggie and Jeff Clark are going to be together. I want you to go and watch them. I must find out what she feels for him." He watched as Willie's look of consternation and his intended protests faded at Barnabas' own undeniable determination.
"What if I get caught?" Willie managed after a moment.
"You had better not be. Now go on."
Willie didn't move. "But, Barnabas—"
"Willie," he interrupted coldly, "go. Now."
"W-well, what if I can't get close enough to hear anything?" he asked while getting his coat.
"You'll find a way. Report back to me immediately after he leaves. Understand?"
"Yeah, but I don't like it." Willie opened the big front door.
"I'm not asking you if you like it. I couldn't care less if you like it or not, Willie. You'll do as you're told." Willie could be so maddening at times, Barnabas thought as he left.
Willie stomped angrily up the path, rebelliousness filling him. He knew he could have said a lot more, all with the smug "I told you so" tone, but he had not wanted to provoke Barnabas into taking some physical action against him as he almost surely would have. Nevertheless, this was one of the stupidest things he had ever been told to do, Willie thought.
He soon reached the grounds surrounding the mansion and crept quietly up them to it. Vines and shrubbery made good cover against being seen, but also made sneaking around quietly difficult. And there was very little moonlight to see by. He listened in several windows on the ground level, but heard nothing. The smell of cooked chicken reached him when he passed around the kitchen/servants' entrance, telling him what the Collinses had had for dinner, and reminding him that he had missed his own supper. Willie's stomach rumbled. He wished he'd eaten instead of taking that nap because he doubted he would get the chance to fix himself anything when he went back.
Reluctantly he moved on. The sound of voices on the garden terrace took his full attention, and he slipped through the hedges to listen and watch.
Maggie had her arms around Jeff's neck and smiled up at him. "You know, Jeff, I never would have thought I'd have two marriage proposals in one day. I'm really flattered."
He looked down into her eyes, his arms around her, holding her firmly, jealously. "I hope you use your heart in this, Maggie," he said, "And your head."
"Oh, Jeff," she laughed coyly. "I just don't know."
"Maggie, you can't marry him. I loved you first."
"Yes, I know, but he asked me first." She looked down. "I wish I didn't have this decision to make, Jeff." Their eyes met again. "But I can't help feeling you only asked me because Barnabas did."
He frowned. "That's not true—totally. I mean, when I thought I would lose you, I realized I'd wasted a lot of time."
"We've known each other a long time, Jeff. You didn't ask me when I'd planned to leave Collinwood." Her eyes searched him. He was less cultured, seemingly less thoughtful than Barnabas. Jeff had always been so casual about their relationship, whereas Barnabas was intense about loving her. She thought he loved her more than Jeff did.
Her reproach made Jeff bristle. "I know." He let his arms drop from around her, and he turned away.
Willie had been listening closely. He wondered what decision she would reach and if she was testing Jeff. When Jeff moved away, Willie thought he was coming toward him and backed further into the bushes.
Jeff looked up, hearing the quiet rustling of Willie's movement. He could see nothing, however, and turned back to Maggie. "I'm sorry, Maggie. I just never thought there was any need to rush things."
"I could tell, Jeff, and I wasn't ready to rush them either, but I would've been happy to marry you then."
"Oh, Maggie—" He stopped, hearing another sound.
Willie was gasping as silently as he could, having backed into a sharp protruding limb. It had jabbed him a fading bruise. He succeeded in holding his breath as Jeff got closer. The urge to bolt made him feel like a small animal relying on its camouflage to hide it from a searching predator.
Jeff could barely make out the shape of a man behind the hedges. "Hey! What're you doing back there?"
"Jeff—" Maggie began, but he rushed forward as Willie tore out of his hiding place to run away.
Damn! was all Willie could think as he fought his way through the foliage. Hands descended to his shoulders, firmly gripping his coat. Jeff pulled him into the clear and spun him around. Light from the windows over the terrace shown on them both.
"Willie!" he said, surprised, then angry. "What do you think you're doing? Spying on us?" He shook him roughly. "Answer me, Willie!"
He didn't know what to say. Fear of a reprimand from Barnabas pervaded his mind. And his embarrassment took second place to his fear. He felt helpless and doomed. "I-I. . ."
Jeff pushed him up against a vine-covered tree trunk. "Well, Willie? Come on," he said through clenched teeth, and slammed him against the tree. "Tell me."
"I-I-I wasn't spyin'," Willie stammered, hurting.
"Yes, you were. For Barnabas, right?" Jeff looked away from Willie without letting go of him when Maggie walked up.
"Jeff, what's going on?" She looked from him to the smaller man.
"He was spying on us," Jeff told her.
"No! I-I wasn't!" Willie shifted his gaze from Jeff's angry frown to Maggie. "I wasn't."
Jeff turned back to him. "Yes, you were, Willie." He shook him again.
"Jeff, don't hurt him," Maggie said, feeling sorry for him. He looked so pitiful.
Willie was breathing hard, unable to hide his fear. "I-I swear, I wasn't sypin'," he managed to say.
"Then what were you doing?" Jeff did not let go.
"I-I. . .I, uh, was lookin' for. . . Barnabas. . .he left his cane out here—I mean, he, uh, couldn't find it, and he thought he, uh, left it out here." Willie hoped they believed him, but he knew he did not sound very convincing. He had never been able to lie successfully when he was afraid.
"I don't believe that," Jeff said.
"It's true! I swear! Barnabas told me to come look for it. I swear!" Willie felt desperate. "You can ask him if you don't believe me."
Maggie wondered if there was something wrong with Willie. She did not believe his story; she thought he had some kind of obsession with her. She did, however, pity him. She put a hand on Jeff's arm to draw him away from Willie.
He released him, giving him one last push against the tree. "All right, Willie. We'll ask him. But I don't believe you. I think you're either sick, or he sent you to spy on us.
"Jeff!" Maggie said with surprise and annoyance. "You don't mean that."
He looked at her then Willie again. "Listen, Willie, I'd better not catch you doing anything like this again."
"I wasn't doin' anything, I tell ya." Willie would like to have run away right then, but he thought Jeff would try to follow him and bring him back.
"Then why did you try to run? And why weren't you making any noise?"
Willie's mind went blank with panic for a moment. "I. . .I-I, uh, didn't want to bother you."
Jeff eyed him skeptically. "I've got a good mind to make you stay here and go ask. . .your boss himself."
"Jeff, leave him alone." Maggie was tired of seeing him pick on Willie.
"Go ahead. Ask him," Willie said, trying for a shred of dignity in front of Maggie. He could at least stand up for himself now that he thought he could get away with it without being hurt any more.
"Don't provoke me, Willie."
"Then leave me alone. I told you the truth." He stepped away from them, giving them both a reproachful look. He moved off toward the Old House.
Jeff looked at Maggie. "I don't believe him."
"Neither do I, Jeff, but I don't like your saying that Barnabas sent him. That's uncalled for."
"All right. I'm sorry." Jeff's tone was not very contrite, but he did not feel contrite.
"You should be. I'm going inside. Goodnight, Jeff." She did not wait for him to escort her.
Willie concealed himself long enough to see that Jeff left Collinwood. He then made the trip back to the 0ld House, going slowly because he knew he would be in trouble. He hated every minute, every step that brought him closer to Barnabas. It was like a vicious cycle, he thought; Barnabas would do something, he had to either try to stop him or do some task, and whatever it was, he never did it right. Always he had to go back to Barnabas for judgement, and he was seldom pleased with Willie. His whole life had been that way, he thought miserably. He had never learned to stay out of trouble. No matter what he did, even if it was something good, someone to whom he had to answer did not approve. He had ended up often being sorry he did anything for anyone except himself. He had never been a successful loner, however, and found himself usually under someone's authority. It would grow unbearable, and he would move on.
But he could not leave this time, nor could he soothe his sorrows in a bottle of liquor. Willie had to tell Barnabas that he had failed, that Jeff suspected the truth, that he was sorry. It would not go over well, he knew, wishing he could run away. Had he not thought Barnabas would be able to find him, he would have gone immediately. Nothing he had ever been through was as bad as his forced slavery to the man. Barnabas was violent, and Willie hated violence. He had never grown used to it or callous to it, although he had been a victim of it since childhood. He had learned to run from it, to escape the inevitable pain he would not be able to bear. Willie could not cope with physical pain, it removed all self-control, stripped him down to his most base and primitive emotions. Fear of it made him easily controllable and that, in turn, kept him from having any self-respect. Willie understood this about himself, but that did not ease his anguish. He accepted the truth, believing he could never change.
Barnabas, he thought, had made him want to change, however; if not so he could escape the subjugation, then to find a way into a higher sphere of living. Perhaps unintentionally, Barnabas had made him appreciate freedom, kindness, and decency to others. But no matter what, it all came back to him and what he had done and done wrong.
He found himself approaching the 0ld House silently, desperate for some kind of delay. Looking up at a sliver of a moon took little time, and the surrounding forest was dark and looked impenetrable.
Within the Old House, Barnabas watched his servant from a window near the door. He wondered why Willie was just standing there looking around as if he was admiring the evening. He must not want to come in, he thought, and went to the door.
Willie jumped at the sound of the door opening, dread turned his blood cold. He looked at Barnabas. The man looked like an apparition framed in the dark doorway, only his hands and face were visible. His dark eyes stared unblinking at the trembling young man.
"Come into the house, Willie," he said, stepping aside as he was obeyed and shutting the door behind them. "Well?"
Willie moved further into the house where there was more light. "Uh. . . Uh, I. . ."
"Willie." Barnabas followed him, cornering him between the side of the staircase and a small lamp table. "What happened?"
Heart pounding, Willie looked up at him. "Barnabas, I, uh, I—"
"Stop stammering, and tell me what happened!" Barnabas was fascinated by how intimidated Willie was. He was like a whipped cur, a mongrel of a human being, he thought. He watched the smaller man trying to answer and was beginning to lose patience. "What went wrong?"
"Barnabas, M-Maggie was. . .kinda mad at Jeff. I-I mean, you gotta b-better chance," he said hopefully, trying to forestall the worst.
"Really? Then what's the matter with you?"
All Willie could do was stutter a string of "I's". He forced himself to swallow and start again, still quaking under the taller man's unrelenting gaze and strong physical presence. "Barnabas, I—he—I mean, Clark, he. . ." Willie added in a small voice, ". . .caught me."
"What?!" Barnabas said, alarmed, and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat as Jeff had. "Willie, you idiot!"
"Barnabas, please don't—"
"What happened? Tell me all of it." He pressed him against the side of the staircase. "Tell me, Willie!"
Willie was more frightened than ever, and all he could think of was to plead for mercy. His insides were all knotted and twisting. His mind flashing back in time, Willie recalled the time his father had caught him touching his small hand gun and had made Willie think he was going to shoot him with it. He had put the muzzle of it into Willie's ear and pulled the trigger without double checking to see if it had been unloaded. That had been followed by a beating. Willie could still hear the snap of the hammer striking the firing pin. And the fear was the same, only now he was a man, not a sobbing, hysterical child.
Somehow, he managed to tell Barnabas the story he had given Maggie and Jeff about looking for the cane, although the very mention of the object fed his anxiety to almost an unbearable point because he had been punished with it before.
"Why did you have to involve me in this?" Barnabas reprimanded him. "I'm sure they never believed that."
"I-I don't know, Barnabas. I-I'm sorry. It was all I could think of."
"And typical of your thought processes—it's completely absurd." He released him and stepped back. "Look at you; cowering there like some kind of. . .of. . . You're a pathetic excuse for a man, Willie."
He felt the tears that had been trying to surface all during his interrogation suddenly spring into his eyes. "Well, who asked you?" he muttered, then looked down, holding his lips firm so they wouldn't quiver. He could not understand why Barnabas' opinion of him should matter so much to him. But it hurt. Terribly.
Barnabas seemed surprised and studied him anew, noticing the streaks from his tears running down his face. "So you do have some pride after all."
Willie said nothing, refusing to look up. He was suddenly furious at being humiliated so cruelly. He wanted to hurt Barnabas back, to make him lose Maggie forever.
Still looking at him, Barnabas said, "I can just imagine what they thought you were doing out there. Unfortunately, I'll have to go along with your ridiculous story if anyone asks me. It's either that or you'll look like some kind of voyeur." He walked to the stairs and started up.
Willie looked up, following him with his eyes. He did not understand anything, he thought. Maggie, Jeff, and Barnabas seemed far above him, unapproachable and distant. He could not imagine being like them or ever being anywhere near equal to them. Maggie was like some kind of royalty who could only bear to be touched by a man of her own class. Willie did not know why or how things could be so different for people. He felt trapped by ignorance and his own failings. The whole situation was his own fault—he had opened the coffin, and people had died. I should have died, he thought.
Barnabas was gone from the room when Willie made up his mind to do something. He was still angry and hurt, and that gave him courage. Barnabas would not have Maggie if it meant telling her what he had been told to do.
Willie stole quietly out of the house and headed once more for Collinwood. Doubts and fears kept coming to his mind. Barnabas would kill him or worse for what he was going to do if he found out. But he wouldn't, Willie told himself fervently. He'd tell Maggie not to tell him.
The woods seemed unnaturally quiet, cold, and still. There were almost no sounds but his own footfalls to distract him from his brooding worries. His nerve was nearly gone when he reached the front doors of Collinwood. He rubbed his hands together, sweating nervously in the cold air. He rang the door bell.
Mrs. Johnson looked haughtily at the scruffy young man. "What do you want?"
He thought fast. Maggie would never come out to see him. "I-I have a message for Maggie Evans. "It's from Barnabas," he said. He did not want to go in but was not invited to anyway. Willie had to re-conjure up his anger to keep from running away when Mrs. Johnson had gone.
The instant he saw Maggie, he knew he had made a mistake. He could never get away without her seeing him and thinking the worst of him.
Maggie came to stand on the threshold, holding the door open. "Yes, Willie?" She thought he seemed more than ever nervous.
"Uh, Maggie, I-I, uh, I'm sorry for botherin' you. I know it's gettin' late."
"That's all right, Willie. Mrs. Johnson told me you have a message from Barnabas?" She wondered if he was shivering from the cold. "Would you like to step inside?"
"No! Uh, I'm fine right here." Willie saw the polite, questioning look rapidly fading from her eyes and knew he had better say something. "Uh, Barnabas wanted me to, uh, apologize for disturbin' you this evenin'."
"Oh. . . Is that it?"
"Uh, yeah."
"All right, Willie. I'll tell him tomorrow that you—"
"No, don't!" he blurted out before he could stop himself.
"Don.'t?" She frowned, watching his blue eyes close briefly as if in anguish. "Willie, what's wrong with you?"
It was too late now to get out of the situation smoothly. "Notbin', Maggie, just don't tell Barnabas I came here."
His look was pleading now. "Why not? He sent you, didn't he?" Before he could answer, she said, "He didn't, did he?"
Willie shook his head. "Just don't tell him, please."
"You'd better explain what this is all about, Willie." She held the door open for him to come in, but he stepped back, shaking his head again. "All right, I'll come out there." She stepped in long enough to get her coat. "Now explain," she said, shutting the door behind her.
"I dunno what to tell you," he stalled.
"Why you came to see me will do for a start." She crossed her arms, waiting.
He thought desperately for a believable reason. "Well, I-I was mad at Barnabas, and I wanted to get him back," he said truthfully.
"I don't understand what you've done to get back at him."
"Notbin'," he said hurriedly. "I changed my mind when I got here."
"I still don't see what you could've done." When he shrugged and did not answer, Maggie said, "I'd also like to know what you thought you were doing when you told me I should leave Collinwood."
Being reminded of that foolish act, made Willie all the more conscious of the stupidity of his going to see her this night. Besides, he did not know what to say. "Well, I was, uh, drunk that day; I-I didn't know what I was sayin'."
"You were not drunk as I recall, Willie. Barnabas told me you imagined something might happen to me. Just what was that?"
"I-I don't know, Maggie."
"Willie, if I don't get some straight answers right now, I will tell Barnabas that you came here tonight." Maggie was losing patience with his evasive replies. She wondered why he was so afraid to let Barnabas know he'd been to see her. The most that could happen would be for him to lose his job there, she thought; surely he didn't value it that highly.
"No, don't. Please don't tell him," he pleaded.
"Why not?"
"He. . . He'll be mad at me." He'll kill me, he thought.
"And. . ."
"Huh?"
"Willie, I've had just about enough of this. You act like you're scared to death of Barnabas. I can't imagine why. He's the kindest, most gentle man I know. He's given you a nice job and place to live." She sighed with exasperation. "He's done so much for you."
Willie felt indignant rage boiling up in him at her words. His breathing became rapid, and his face grew hot. "Well, you don't know the half of it!" he nearly shouted. "You don't know how Barnabas really is!" Willie wanted to hurt them both, his face livid with emotion, his suppressed shame, and the pain that was always inside him. He took a step toward her, gesturing wildly with his hands. "He's mean an' cruel an' full of hate. The only reason he wants to marry you is 'cause you look like Josette. He don't care about anybody but himself. And he don't care who he hurts to get what he wants! And you know something? He did send me to spy on you and Jeff! And. . .and. . ." Willie was panting. The intensity of this sudden explosion of feeling had gone way out of control. His pent up rage at Barnabas overwhelmed his mind. He wanted to scream himself hoarse.
Maggie was shocked and alarmed by the man's obvious fury. "Willie!" she shouted at him before he could catch his breath and say anything else. "Calm down, Willie!"
"No!" He looked at her panicked expression which was all blurry to him. He realized he was crying. "Damn!" he said, turning away and raking his sleeve across his eyes.
"Willie," she said more softly. "I'm. . . I'm sorry if I upset you like this."
"It don' matter," he muttered, his passion draining away, leaving him with a cold, empty ache inside. "I-I was drinkin' before I came. I shouldn't've been."
Maggie didn't believe him. There was some very real problem between Willie and Barnabas. One of them had a mental or emotional disorder, or one of them had lied to her. Willie's back was still to her, and his head hung dispiritedly. "Willie, I won't say anything to Barnabas about your coming here." She felt very sorry for him.
"You won't?" he asked, a little hope slipping into his voice.
"No, but answer me this. Did Barnabas send you to spy on Jeff and me?"
Willie did not answer at first. Screw Barnabas, he thought. "Yeah." If Maggie was not going to tell Barnabas, he did not care if she knew the truth.
"Look at me, Willie." She waited for him to turn around and for his red-rimmed eyes to meet hers. "Do you mean that?"
"Yeah," he said, unflinching, then that look of consternation came back. "But you can't tell him I told you. You said you wouldn't."
"I meant it." She felt a surge of sympathy for him and was tempted to reach out and stroke a stray lock of his shaggy hair away from his face. She wondered how he had gotten the cut on his cheek.
Willie was almost transfixed by her beautiful face and concerned brown eyes. If only the circumstances were different, he thought fleetingly.
"Why don't you quit if you hate it so much?" she asked him.
"Huh? 0h, I-I. . .I can't." He was ready to throw some more bad light on Barnabas. She was too good for him, he thought. Barnabas did not deserve her.
"Why not?"
"He. . . He wouldn't let me." Now he would have to lie some more. He lowered his eyes. "You see, I-I had another job offer, but he wouldn't let me take it 'cause. . . Well, I. . .I don't think he thinks I deserve it."
Maggie was really beginning to have doubts about Barnabas. Either Willie had put on a very good act or he had been telling what he thought was the truth. She wondered what he was leading into now. "What do you mean?"
"Uh, well, he caught me doin' something I shouldn't've been doin'." He rubbed his hands together nervously. "You remember the night Roger fired me?" She nodded, and he continued, "I-I thought I was goin' to find the missin' jewels." He shrugged, trying to seem casual about it, pleased that the story would make logical sense. "Well, Barnabas caught me tryin' to break into the Collins mausoleum. It was his first night in town, he said, and he was just visitin' the graves. He threatened to turn me over to the police for graverobbin'. And if I leave, he'll tell the police."
"Graverobbing?" she said with distaste. He had been drunk that night, she recalled. "That still doesn't explain why you're so afraid of making him mad at you."
"He's mean, I told you that."
"I find that hard to believe."
Willie looked at her again, feeling lost in his confusing story. "Well, sure you do. He wouldn't want you to know."
Maggie thought Barnabas must yell at him a lot. "What did you mean about him wanting to marry me only because I look like Josette?"
Willie groaned inwardly, regretting his loss of self-control. "Notbin'. I-I was just mad."
He had been enraged, she thought, on the verge of violence. Unless he was faking. She did not see how he could have been. That wild desperation and fury that had been in his eyes was completely uncharacteristic of him. Willie had always been a little rowdy when he got drunk, sometimes a little surly to his employers even when he was not. Generally he had done his work acceptably, though Roger Collins had threatened to fire him several times for drunkenness. But Willie had never hurt her or poor Carolyn and had usually made his rather clumsy advances when intoxicated. Maggie had always considered him harmless, strange perhaps, but not inclined to violence. And since he had begun working for Barnabas, his manners had improved drastically. He was even polite and considerate.
She looked at him now, his eyes shifting back and forth nervously. Maggie realized it had gotten quite late. She needed time to sort out what Willie had told her before she saw Barnabas tomorrow. "Willie, why don't you go back to the Old House now. It's late."
His eyes met hers, and he tried to tell what she was thinking. "You won't tell Barnabas?"
"I won't."
He sighed; she seemed sincere. "Thanks, Maggie. And I-I-I'm sorry I came here and caused all this trouble."
She did not tell him that she thought he may have done her a large favor by opening her eyes. "Goodnight, Willie."
He smiled hesitantly. "'Night, Maggie. Thanks." He bobbed his head, backing away before turning and hurrying off into the darkness.
Maggie wondered what Barnabas would say when she asked him if he had really sent Willie to look for his cane. Poor neurotic Willie, she thought, what was he going to do next?