Mrs. Benson - 1. Chapter 1

The morning began as it had every year on this date. Mrs. Benson had toast and a cup of coffee. At nine a.m., she called for me and told me that she would be going to the cemetery later, and to please have the car ready by nine thirty. Today, she was dressed all in black and there were dark circles under her eyes, as I held the car door open for her.

“Thank you, James.” Mrs. Benson patted my arm on her way past me.

I stood in my uniform with my hat tucked under my arm.

She slowly moved toward the center of the seat, placed her cane beside her, and settled herself down. I closed the door, slipped my hat on, and climbed into the driver’s seat. The drive to the cemetery takes about a half hour. Usually the drive is done in silence, but today there was something off.

“By chance, did you or Alice hear anything last night?” Mrs. Benson’s voice did little to betray what she was thinking.

“I didn’t hear anything last night. Did we have a storm or was there something I should check on the security system?”

“No, James. It … it must have been a bad dream is all.” She seemed to settle back into her seat and silence once again reigned.

The cemetery has a few main drives that go front and back, left and right with many smaller roads branching off. Mrs. Benson had us take her Lincoln, so I stayed on the main road till we got to the very back of the cemetery, and then drove to where the little stone pathway led back to where her family owned property and had their mausoleum. I pulled up, and then went to open her car door.

I watched Mrs. Benson slide out of the back of the car, her silver cane striking the solid dirt followed a moment later by her black shoes. The woman was ninety-seven, but barely looked sixty. Her skin barely holding a wrinkle, her deep green eyes sharp and alert, she was the image of a woman in control. I quickly moved to her side and offered her my arm.

“Thank you, James. Wait here.”

She walked with grace past the beautifully manicured graves and headed toward the small wooded area in the back where her family’s gravesites resided. Every year since I’d come to work for her twenty years ago, she made the trek out here to their graves. I always wondered, with the care that was given to the rest of the graveyard, why the area where her family was kept always looked like it needed to be cleaned up. I’d asked her once and all she would say is her mother-in-law’s family owned it and had made the arrangements for its upkeep long before she had married into the family. From the way she spoke, I knew enough not to bring it up again.

I leaned back against the car and lit a cigarette. I knew it would be at least an hour till she returned, and requested that I find a good restaurant for her to stop and eat at before heading home again. This was a routine I had grown familiar with over the decades.

I remember asking once how this came about. I was sitting in the kitchen as Alice, who has been the cook at the house for close to thirty years, explained to me that the fire on Halloween all those years ago had claimed the lives of Mrs. Cathy Benson’s family.

“Alice, why does she do it?” I looked up as Alice began frosting the cake she baked.

“Do what?”

“Go to the cemetery and spend all that time there? I mean, what happened to her family?”

Alice set the frosting down and sighed. “You really want to hear all this?”

“Yes. I want to know why she goes there alone every year.”

Alice ran her hand through her hair and then came to sit down at the table with me. “Look, what I know I learned about from the last member of her former staff. There was a gentleman by the name of Mr. Peters, and he had worked for Mrs. Cathy Benson from the time she was married.” Alice paused and shook her head. “From what he said Cathy has always been a strong woman. She had a period of time when she had been ill. Her husband was devoted to her and the kids. The only problem seemed to be her mother-in-law, Regina Benson. That woman hated Cathy Benson with a passion. Evidently, there was no love lost between the two, but the two women sort of kept it quiet for the sake of Cathy’s husband and children. “

“Okay. So basically, Regina and Cathy hated one another.” I waited while Alice nodded. “So why does she go there alone every year?”

“The fire began in Regina’s room. It is now a guest room above our bedrooms. It burned hot and fast according to Mr. Peters. It spread from her bathroom to the little boy’s room. Mr. Benson heard the cries, smelled smoke, and called out for the staff to get out while he ran upstairs. Mr. Peters rushed and got all the staff out of the house. Mr. Benson tried to rescue his son, but the fire was so intense when he opened the door, it just engulfed him. The beams on that side of the house had begun to collapse and the fire was spreading through the attic. The noise woke Mrs. Benson up and she hurried toward her children, but the roof started to collapse. Mr. Peters was making a final look, heard her scream and managed to get her out of the house before the whole thing came down. She kept crying and begging to go back into the house to get her family, even as they took her away in the ambulance. Mrs. Benson felt it was all her fault. She rebuilt the house, and every year she goes to the cemetery to let them know she cares.”

I sat in silence, while Alice got up and finished frosting the cake she had baked.

“So, why the cake?” I finally asked as Alice looked up again.

“Because the fire happened the day before her birthday. I know she doesn’t want to celebrate, but everyone should have a piece of cake on their birthday.”

So, I knew that this was her day of remembrance and I didn’t want to intrude on it.

“Aaaieieie!”

I dropped the cigarette and ran like hell up the slight hill, and into the wooded area behind. There was a stone fence that I slammed into on my way to get to Mrs. Benson. I found her lying like a rag doll near the center of the area. The large mausoleum lay open, and even from where I stood, I could see that many of the coverings had been ripped off. Someone had defiled the graves of Mrs. Benson’s family.

I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, only to find there was no cell service.

I knelt down beside Mrs. Benson and felt for a pulse. It was there, but barely, and her breathing was highly erratic. I was sure she was having a heart attack.

I carefully lifted her into my arms and headed toward the car. Who knew that a woman as small and thin as her could weigh so much? It felt like she weighed near half a ton by the time I managed to get her down to the car. I slipped the car door open and nearly poured her onto the seat. Slamming the door closed, I climbed back in the car and gunned it trying to get the hell out of the cemetery.

The roads were mostly empty as I flew along the roadways toward the local hospital. As I got further from the cemetery and more into the town, the traffic became harder to dodge, even as I began to take back roads in an attempt to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

I slammed on the brakes, nearly skidding into position at the emergency doors at the hospital. A cop came strolling over as I jumped out of the car heading toward the rear door.

“Listen buddy,” the officer began as she reached for her pad to write me a ticket.

“I need someone now.” I glanced again into the backseat, catching a glimpse of Mrs. Benson’s pale face. “Mrs. Benson, I think she had a heart attack.”

The officer ran to my side and helped me lift her gently out of the back of the car. As we turned, two orderlies arrived with a gurney and took over. As she was wheeled into the hospital, the cop turned to me.

“Let’s start with basics here. What is your name and what happened?”

“I’m James Trenton and I work for Mrs. Benson. We had gone to the cemetery, as we always do on this date. She goes up privately to the graves where her family is buried. I had just leaned back against the car and was going to get comfortable, when I heard this blood curdling scream. By the time I got to her, she was laying unconscious on the grass.”

The cop looked at me. “Want to tell me the rest of it?”

I realized I had left something out, not intentionally, but something she needed to know about.

“Look, when I got to her side, there was something off. I mean, the mausoleum that she went to was open and some of the markers were lying on the ground; the spaces behind them were empty.”

“You mean,” the officer stopped writing and looked me in the eye, “that the graves had been opened?”

“I mean that there wasn’t anything in there that I could see. I think that is why she screamed.” I looked toward the door. As much as I wanted to help the cop, I was more worried about Mrs. Benson. I knew I should have been at her side by that time. “Look, I have to go check on Mrs. Benson. If you need me for anything else, I will be at her side.”

“Hold it, buddy.” She paused and slipped a card out of her pocket. “I’m Officer Jo Cassidine. I’m going to head out to check on this. Which cemetery is her family buried in?”

“The Holy Cross Cemetery; it’s out on Old Country Road. Once you get there the Benson family crypt is in the back on the cemetery. You’ll find a small stone pathway that looks like it is going into the woods. Trust me, you can’t miss it.” I glanced once more at Officer Cassidine and headed toward the door, only to hear her call me again.

“Um, Mr. Trenton, before you go into the hospital you have to move your car. You can’t block the emergency entrance.”

I felt like an idiot. “Yes, Officer. I’ll take care of that right away.”

“Good.” She turned and headed off toward her car, parked just on the other side of the emergency area.

I got back in the car just as the sirens of an ambulance could be heard. I pulled away and found a parking spot, before racing back to the hospital.