Hollister House: The Witch and the Banyan Tree

Emotion caught in Eve's throat as she saw her father's face for the thousandth time, just as he had looked in the banyan tree on the night of his death. It hadn't been peace she had seen there in his expression. Not peace. Maybe there was no peace, ever, not even after this disappointing life. Maybe there was nothing. Or maybe there was something much worse . . . Seeking a new start, Eve Hollister came with her daughter, Allison, to Juniper, Mississippi to renovate the old family Victorian. At first, they felt a special bond with the mysterious banyan tree on the property. They could never have guessed that the tree was actually a portal for dark spirits that would manifest, setting in motion a series of horrific events, forcing them to finally flee Hollister House. Now, ten years later, they have returned to face their fears. The haunted Victorian had been victorious in the past, but evil cannot survive forever-not against the powers of good. Follow these memorable, colorful characters in this third and final book of the "Hollister House Trilogy" as they travel through this fantastic journey that can only be fully imagined in the gothic Deep South; a romantic place of mysticism, voodoo, and undying love.

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HOLLISTER HOUSE(The Witch and the Banyan Tree)By Joani LacyiUniverse, Inc.Copyright © 2012 Joani LacyAll right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4759-4649-9Chapter One ALLISON'S RETURN "MISS, ALL WE HAVE LEFT IS THAT OLD gas-guzzlin' Cadillac. We just got slammed. There must be a convention or somethin' in town." The rental agent at the Avis desk spoke apologetically as he pointed to a used black Seville just outside the Jackson Airport window. Allison looked up and grinned, "Oh that will be just fine. I love Cadillacs." "Oh, well, okay then. She's all yours." The agent sighed in relief as he handed the pretty, blue-eyed blonde the paperwork and keys. "Ms. Hollister, you're gonna look real good in that car." Allison laughed, "Well, I doubt that. I'm sure I'll look as tired as I feel." He laughed back as he watched the leggy young woman wheel her bags out to the car looking like she had stepped right out of a fashion magazine. Allison got behind the steering wheel, enjoying the masculine smell of the leather interior, and spoke reverently under her breath, "Pops, I'm doing you proud." It was going to be a pleasure to drive after what had been a turbulent flight from New York to Mississippi. She pulled out of the parking lot and called her grandmother, Ellen. "I understand completely, Allie. Yes, dear, you need to get to Juniper. Don't you worry about me. I just spoke with Mary, and she and Sippie are expectin' you. If I have to come down there, we'll figure somethin' out. Or maybe you can drive back to Jackson for a short visit? I sure do want to see you." "Okay, Gram. I'll call you when I know anything. I love you." "I love you, too, sweetheart. Give the ladies a kiss and a hug for me, and I'll just be here waitin'. I pray my Eve is all right. I know she's in good hands, but I pray she's all right." Allison threw her cell phone back into her purse, and swallowed hard. Her grandmother sounded tired, and she was getting so old. Allison hadn't even gotten to Juniper yet and she was already on the verge of tears. She turned up the radio and tried to fight off the dread that was ambushing her thoughts. The miles passed smoothly and quickly, and in no time there was the familiar sign, Juniper, Mississippi, Miles, alerting her that it was time to exit the interstate and turn onto the peaceful two-lane road that led to her grandfather's home town. The world seemed to back off and slow down as she drove down the quiet highway. Oak trees smothered in Spanish moss canopied the road, and weedy marshes stretched out lazily on either side. Allison found herself staring off into the restful landscape, and then realized she was holding her breath as she watched a single crow soaring before diving into the swampy grass. It triggered a disturbing premonition, and the nightmare flashed in full-color scenes behind her thoughts, causing goose pimples to rise on her arms. She reached for the volume knob again, but realized the miles had already burned up, and she was approaching the outskirts of the small town. Slowing her speed to twenty-five, she drove down Main Street, an undeniable nervousness bubbling up in her stomach as she made the right turn onto Mandalay. She parked on the street in front of the house, and walked slowly to the six-foot wrought-iron railing enclosing the property. Shading her eyes, she turned to look up at the two looming concrete lions that flanked the rusted gateway. Allison had always had a love-hate relationship with the precarious guardians of Hollister House. Today they just looked worn out, like the house itself, with lack-luster, dull features. "Good to see you, too, fellas." Sweeping her long blonde hair back from her face, she pulled closer to the gate to get a better view of the house that sat at the end of the long walkway, barely visible through thick evergreens. Had this really been the home she and her mother had lived in a decade earlier? She stared hard at the large Victorian, with its wraparound veranda and stone steps leading up to a massive oak door. Its lance-arched, stained glass windows were all boarded up, and the pastel paint that had been a designer's dream was faded and peeling. The untended yard had returned to a tangle of vines and weeds competing for air and earth, and what had been beguiling cherubs and gargoyles peppering the lawn were cracked and strangled in crab-grass and winding wisteria. Allison swallowed hard to hold back the tears, as she let her eyes roam over the abandoned house. Then she turned her attention to the tree. As sad as the house looked, the banyan tree had never looked more vibrant, and was exploding with healthy roots and branches thick with leaves. It seemed to taunt her, and she could almost hear the wind rustling through its leaves sounding out ... "I won!" And the tree had won. Allison had finally come around to believing that it was truly the impossible lord and master over the house and its grounds, and it would have its way. Oh, Eve, how could this have happened? She kept remembering the last Christmas the whole family had been together. They had dressed Hollister House up into a storybook fantasy right out of a Dickens' novel. She could still smell the pine and bayberry from pillar candles. She shook her head violently in an effort to stop the memories. It was too hard. She had a normal life now, and it was too hard to face this house where everything had gone so wrong. Turning from the gate, she looked across the street at what had once been the Patterson's house. Strangers lived there now. Mary said she couldn't look out her windows at an empty Hollister House any longer, and when Joey had gone off to college, she and Sippie found a brick colonial a few blocks over from Mandalay and moved in. But Eve had returned to New Orleans to live at the house on Esplanade Avenue until just recently when she had come back to stay with Sippie and Mary. Ten long years. Why did it seem like yesterday? Her mother had completely fallen apart when Jonathan Hollister died. She had turned her back on everybody; her daughter, her mother, her closest friends, to hide away with the Rochards in the New Orleans house that had fed the beginning of her madness. Allison would never fully understand that; would never fully understand her mother's weaknesses. Why did she always run away? It was true that Hollister House had defeated them, but they could have kept going somewhere away from the horror of that haunted place. They could have kept going if they had stayed together. But she wouldn't. Eve wouldn't. Or couldn't. Either way, it was hard to forgive. As much as Allison hated herself for her seemingly cold lack of empathy or compassion, she just couldn't forgive her mother's immaturity. That's all it was. Immaturity. In Eve's child-like mind she insisted that she wasn't meant to be happy, wasn't meant to have a normal life. She wasn't worthy, she would say over and over. She wasn't good enough to raise her own daughter and be in command of her own destiny. She used those words as a mantra to rationalize everything. Allison just didn't buy it. She believed the real truth about her mother's failures lay somewhere closer to the fact that Eve liked being the tragic figure. It fit her musician's dramatic temperament. Allison inherently knew it was why she, herself, was the way she was; logical, sensible, avoiding any kind of emotional attachments. Her mother rode enough of that tempestuous roller coaster ride for the both of them. Maybe all of that drama just skipped generations. Maybe it really was that simple. Whatever. Allison sighed. It was all so confusing. The truth was, she rather enjoyed chastising her mother, putting her in her place, treating her like the child. Yeah, there were sure anger issues, abandonment issues. Lots of issues. No doubt. But then Allison would flash back to all that had happened to them at Hollister House and she reasoned that she was letting the years diminish how terrifying things had actually been. Maybe her mother had really never had any options. Allison had blocked out so much of it. Maybe Eve was not capable of blocking anything. Maybe that was really the only difference between mother and daughter. Eve allowed herself to feel everything and Allison battled not to feel anything at all. A breeze brought an unexpected chill to the back of Allison's neck. Rubbing her hairline, she closed her eyes. She breathed deeply of the scented air that was still an intoxicating reminder of the one year she had spent on Mandalay Street. Feelings. There they came. Feelings she had forgotten; had prided herself on not owning. A single moment standing on Mandalay and it all came back. Only one year, but it had changed everything. It had been her defining year. The year had shown her the whole gamut of emotions. More than any fourteen-year-old needed to feel: denial, anger, fear, and then acceptance, forgiveness, friendship, happiness and love, only to lead back to heartbreak and the eventual undeniable truth that the physical world had no boundaries. Ghosts were real. Allison turned back towards Hollister House and took another deep breath. She placed her graceful hands on the wrought iron and pushed open the heavy gate that creaked eerily from lack of use. She cautiously made her way down the long walk, shielding herself from the overgrowth of pine branches. Stopping short of the house, she turned to the left, cutting through the evergreen bushes towards the banyan tree, the very same tree that all week had haunted her in nightmares. The light dimmed the closer she got to the tree, and she stumbled over a devilish-looking cherub who seemed to goad her on. It was just as she remembered. The tree was a world inside a world, a place of enchantment. She stepped carefully over the thick, continuous roots until she was in the heart of the banyan, where, in her memories, fantastic things had happened. Allison stopped and listened. The usual flutter of bats and blackbirds overhead did not obliterate the constant hum that was undeniable in the lower limbs. She reached out and placed her hand on one of the larger trunks. She felt it—a palpable energy, like an electrical current running from the bark to her hand. She yanked her arm away and shook out her hand. Allison looked down and saw tiny cones of pulsating light dancing at her feet. A feeling of euphoria began to invade her consciousness, and for a rapturous moment she gave into it. She threw her arms wide and her head back, and laughed out loud as she twirled. She felt so free, so free and so happy. Then the air shifted, as twisted branches swayed dramatically, and the radiant cones shrunk back into the bed of the tree. In the next moment, the sun broke through a gap in the limbs overhead, and the spell was instantly broken. Allison stared incredulously at her hand, then back at the tree that seemed innocuous enough in the comforting stream of sunlight. She brushed her sweaty palms over her black suit jacket and then ran her arm over her forehead. She should have never come here, and the banyan was telling her it was still in control. It was like the nightmares. Nothing had changed. She would never be safe here. Not anything Sippie could do or The VPs could do or Eve could do would ever change that. The banyan was old world, old magic, and it remained when everything else was gone. Allison shook her head in disbelief. All the logical side of her was gone in an instant being back in Juniper. What was it about this place? All reason seemed to reside outside the town limits, as though it was some kind of parallel universe. Nothing was real and yet it felt more real than anything! She tried to steady her nerves before she got behind the wheel again and headed the Seville back to Main Street, this time making a right turn into town. It was still light, and she needed to calm down before she saw her mother. She wanted to see Juniper. It had been a long time, and it, too, had changed. She drove slowly and powered down her window, letting the warm breezes blow through her hair. It was all so quiet. Too quiet. Not that Juniper hadn't always been quiet. But now it wasn't so much peaceful in a polite, genteel sort of way, but more in a nobody-is-here sort of way. There were still a couple antique shops. Thank God Miller's Antiques' OPEN sign was displayed in Margaret's window. But too many empty storefronts reflected businesses that had struggled and failed to compete with the Wal-Mart that had moved in closer to the highway. Allison was relieved to see some of the older places remained; the Drake Hotel, the Five & Dime, the barber shop and churches. St. Bartholomew's gothic grandeur still took her breath away, and there again came the rushing, jumbled remembrances of both sadness and joy. Allison drove to the end of the town square and circled back in the direction of Mary and Sippie's. To her surprise, Glory's Diner was now an Italian restaurant. It was the most festive storefront in town, with red and white checkered curtains and a rosy-faced chef holding a pizza pie painted on a bright red door. An Italian flag waved from the roof. No more catfish. Allison smiled to herself. Gloria Sampson was probably rolling over in her grave knowing spaghetti was being dished out at the old diner instead of her legendary southern soul food. "Oh, well, Glory, Mom always said nobody could cook like you. Rest in peace." Allison spoke out loud and then sank farther into the Caddy's leather seats as she passed under sturdy live oak trees and weeping willows that quietly guarded Juniper's sleepy streets. Chapter Two BOUND TO COME "MS. ALLISON, SUGAR, LOOK AT YOU! New York has turned you into a grown woman. You are so beautiful!" Sippie Dupree had to stand on tiptoes to kiss Allison on the cheek. Aside from a few spots of gray in her close-clipped afro, the petite black woman who had been her mother's nurse and ally for ten years hadn't changed. Her green eyes still sparkled, and her smile was as infectious as always. "Oh, Sippie, it's so good to see you. Have you shrunk?" "No, she hasn't shrunk—you have just gotten taller and more glamorous than ever! Allie, come here, sweetie, and let me take a look at you!" The years hadn't been as kind to Mary Patterson. She had put on weight. Her salt and pepper hair was almost completely gray, and the lines in her face were more pronounced. But her smile still warmed Allison's heart. Mary hugged her long and hard. Allison was the first to pull away. "Where is she, Mary?" Mary looked at Sippie and nodded, and Sippie gestured for Allison to follow her. "She's out back, Sugar." Allison was aware of her heart pounding in her chest. Why am I so frightened? She followed the women out the back door to a fenced-in, manicured yard where her mother sat in a high-backed Adirondack chair. From behind, Eve looked the same. Her coarse white hair hung in a thick, braided cord down her back. She was wrapped in a shawl, even though the early evening was very warm, and there was the usual tumbler of iced bourbon on the table next to her. "Ms. Eve, look who is here. It's your Allison, cherie." Sippie stepped in front of Eve, and now moved out of the way and waved for Allison to come. Eve was staring off into the distance and didn't seem to notice that her daughter was standing in front of her. "Eve, Evie, hon, it's Allison. She's come all the way from New York to see you. Isn't that wonderful?" Mary pleaded with Eve, but it was no use. Allison felt her eyes well up as she looked at her mother. She was so thin, and her complexion had the ashen look of the infirm. But it was her eyes that were the most upsetting. Her dark blue eyes that always sparkled with humor and intelligence were dull and empty, like she wasn't there. "Oh, my God, Sippie, what's wrong with her?" Sippie took Allison by the elbow, and she and Mary led her back into the house. In the kitchen Sippie poured them all tea as they sat around the table. "Cherie, your mama has been like this for days. It's like she has gone from us. She eats sometimes if we coax her, but we have to guide her through everything." "Sometimes she comes out of it, and she's back, you know? The same old Eve. There's even been a couple times in the past weeks when she's actually had an appetite." Mary reached for Allison's hand and squeezed it. Sippie added, "I don't think she's had a stroke, Ms. Allison. I really don't. I do think she might be restin' up, gatherin' herself for somethin'. Your mama's spirit is powerful, but her demons are powerful, too, and right now I sense she's just hidin'." "Well, I don't understand, Sippie. What has triggered this? She was fine living in New Orleans, wasn't she? I mean, she sounded fine whenever I talked to her." (Continues...) Excerpted from HOLLISTER HOUSEby Joani Lacy Copyright © 2012 by Joani Lacy. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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