The Bony Ghosts of Courveau Manse

by R D Larson

Of course she was scared, it was Christmas Eve for goodness sake and the first time she’d ever seen Geraldine without her headlamp. What was she thinking to wander around down here in the catacombs without light?

“Geraldine, what are you doing down here without a headlamp? You could fall over one of the relatives.” Hebe slammed the muslin down on the table.

“My eyes have grown accustomed to the dark. I wonder if during the Civil War family members developed night sight.” Geraldine placed baskets of fresh fruit among the candles on the tables.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Hebe unrolled the bleached muslin across the long tables .

“A Christmas Feast for the Courveaux dead has always been prepared,” stated Geraldine, “by living members of the family. Before the Revolution even, in which we did not take part. Great, great aunt Charity coupled with King George. She never had a cross word for him.”

“Probably a rumor, “Hebe looked at her watch. “It’s 10 :45.”

“My plum pudding is still boiling. I undercooked it last year. Your Uncle Carlton was so annoyed.”

At the elevator, they paused. Old and creaky, it terrified her. They didn’t dare have someone to come to look at it. That someone would not be able to keep their mouths shut about skeletons sitting around in their favorite chairs.

Hebe paused a split-second then followed, as her great-aunt stepped into the elevator. My heart feels like a decapitated chicken. The pulleys whirred into action. The cage rose up. The door slid open into the butler’s pantry.

“Why does it always have to be goose? Goose is a fatty meat.” So nervous.

“Hebe, the old dead ones always have goose because when they were living, they had goose. Imagine the caterwauling if we took them one of your broiled chicken boobies?” Geraldine began to pile the China and the glassware on to the teacart.

Old badger. Hebe dished up the potatoes, the yams, and a huge bowl of green beans with ham and pecans.

I hope artisan bread will fool them. Hebe sliced the hot loaf into chunks. “How did you manage after Mama died and I was too young to help you?”

“I just did. From the beginning, there was the Christmas Feast. I could never fail to feed the old dead ones on the only day in the year when they wake up to eat. You wouldn’t know,” Geraldine, mocked. “Since you’re always on a diet.”

“FINE.” Hebe went to the pot with the plum pudding. I won’t say another word. She lifted the steel bowl out of the boiling water with oven mitts. “When they’re ready, the pudding will be cool enough to eat.” Never heard of a skeleton with a burned a lip.

Geraldine pointed at Hebe. “You better get batteries or else your own headlamp won’t work.”

Hebe finished the final preparations. I’d rather be elsewhere. Anywhere.

“These damask napkins — they’re so thin after so many years. We used them that time your boyfriend came to dinner.”

“Hugh isn’t my...” Hebe blinked. Tears? “You DID use the damask napkins that night, and the white candles.”

“Quick, they’re waking up.” Geraldine patted a white curl down. “Hugh never came back. Why NOT? Do you ever see him?”

“He works in the same building in Charlotte that I do. Same work. Remember?”

“I remember,” grunted Geraldine as they pushed the cart into the elevator .

“What sane person would understand about dead relatives that wake up on Christmas?” Hebe pushed the button hard, forgetting about the rickety elevator. “Hugh couldn’t be tied down to this big old house. It’ s bad enough that I am!”

As she spoke those words, the gears ground loudly and their descent began.

“We better fix this,” Geraldine stammered as the cage bounced.

“No, I—” Hebe screamed before she could finish her words as the elevator dropped. Geraldine clung to the cart as the elevator accelerated downward.

“We’ll be killed!” No, no!

“At least we’ll be with family,” retorted Geraldine as the cage jerked to a stop.

Hebe gasped as Geraldine opened the door. They hung suspended three feet above the floor. Scary, ominous even.

“What are we going to do?” She winced at the pain in her side. Broken heart?

“If you had not scared off that Hugh, maybe we’d be increasing the family by now,” Geraldine spoke sharply. “I’ll go and you push the cart out to me.”

Hebe forgot about her pain and panic. “SCARED OFF? I did not. I just told him no. He didn’t know that a Hebe was a flower.” She glared at Geraldine, her face a caricature under the lamp.

“Do something before this family dies out.”

“They are already all dead except for us.” Hebe’s shook her head making the light sweep the cage in an eerie twist. “No, I’ll jump out. You push the cart out.”

Hebe jumped off as the elevator cage swayed.

“Is that you Geraldine? Did you girls bring the dinner?” It was Uncle Carlton, awake from the dead early. He’s anxious to see Geraldine.

He rose from his chair with his bones clanking together like an ivory wind chime. Hebe gave the teacart a mighty pull. Uncle Carleton’s bony hands caught the edge and he righted it carefully. “A little care, Hebe, eh? Geraldine, you in there?”

“Hello, you old stick-and-bones,” called his wife from the elevator floor . Gallantly, even chivalrously, he held his skeleton hand out to help her down. She landed at his feet

“Time to eat! Let’s eat.” The relatives were waking and beginning to chat. As if they had anything new to discuss.

Hebe spread the muslin on the tables, cutting at the edges and then took the bolt of fabric to other tables. Uncle Carleton pushed the cart to the nearest table and lifted the goose platter into the center.

Hebe ran among the old dead family members, chatting while lighting candles. Great-great- great grandfather Ezra wasn’t here! In her whole life, he had never missed the Christmas feast ever. Had he had stumbled and fallen?

The women served the old bones the platters of food. Hebe still looked to see where the food went, but like all the other times, it just disappeared behind the teeth. She stopped near Uncle Carleton cozy with Geraldine.

“Uncle, I can’t find Great Grandfather Ezra. Where could he be?”

The old specter put a hand to his ear. “What’s that you say?”

“Where’s Great Grandfather Ezra?”

“Oh, he’s gone on; we need the room for newcomers. He volunteered. I would have volunteered but I’m waiting for Geraldine.”

“Newcomers?”

“Cucumbers? No, pudding! Be a good girl and go get our plum pudding.”

In the elevator, Hebe wondered, where had Ezra really gone? Uncertain, she pushed the UP button, expecting to shut the door and go up.

Nothing happened .

She pushed again. Nothing. “Geraldine, the elevator won’t rise. What should I do?”

“What should she do?” Cousin Beth called out to the others. “Never mind, bring the plum pudding.”

“Do what?” Another dear departed chimed in.

Uncle Carleton barked, “I think the girl’s already eaten the plum pudding.”

At that, they all started shouting at her. Geraldine rushed up and into the elevator. She pressed the UP button and then the DOWN button. Still nothing.

Getting cranky now, the dead shouted, “Pudding! We want our pudding now. We want our Christmas pudding.”

“Is that too much to ask?” cried Uncle Carleton, gnashing his teeth angrily .

“Hebe, what should we do?”

“Are there stairs?”

“I never looked. I only came down for the Christmas feasts. They’re dead .”

“If they get vicious?”

They stood in groups of bony skeletons, each carping and complaining.

“Hebe! What will they do to us? If we don’t get them the pudding?”

“Kill us?” Hebe’s eyes filled with tears. I don’t want to die yet.

Geraldine slumped down on the floor. “After centuries of Christmas feasts, I have failed the family.”

“We won’t put up with this! No pudding? Who says?” The relatives began gather toward them. Hebe shrank against Geraldine in fear. The dead old bones rattled nearer.

“Hullo, down there? Shall I pull you up? Hebe?” A voice shouted down from the manse.

“Is that you? Hugh?” Hebe jumped to her feet. “Hello?”

“Yes, shall I pull you up?”

“Yes! Hurry!”

The cables began to whirr as Hugh turned the crank. Up they went slowly.

“Carleton, I’ll be back with the pudding,” Geraldine screeched into the receding cavern below.

“Quick, time’s almost up.” Carleton’s ghostly voice wavered up the shaft.

Reaching the butler’s pantry, Hebe flung open the door. Geraldine pushed her aside and dashed for the pudding.

“Hugh! How come you’re here, tonight of all nights?” Here?

“Let’s just say I know about your quirky relatives,” said Hugh.

“They’ll have to make do with Whipped Cream. No hard sauce,” Geraldine declared. “Hugh, pull me up when I call out. Not my turn down there, not yet.”

Geraldine stepped in the elevator with the plumb pudding plate in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other.

“I need to plan a wedding first,” she said as Hugh again turned the crank . Then she sank away, down to old dead relatives.