Dear, Maria

My mom gave me an old leather-bound journal for my seventeenth birthday. The edges around it were worn so you could see the inside of the cover. The outside was rough and when I ran my fingers over it, I could feel the many hands that had opened it. Just like I did. The pages were yellowed and some were missing. The first entry started out simple. “Dear Maria,” And every entry after that. I always wondered what stories it beheld. What past and future would be revealed within its pages. I spent the entire summer pouring over that old diary. Who did it belong to? 

  Dear Maria,

I am heading south toward the coast today. The sea roars just like I imagined it. The men are frightened, they think were going to die out here. I feel so lost without you here. How are the tulips growing? I haven't seen flowers in so long. Wish you were here, Maria. 

With love, H

  The wind howls and tears through the trees, stripping bark and branches snapping loudly as it travels. There’s a thunderous boom and a man falls from a building somewhere down the street. His name is Dr. Arthur Williams. He has a PHD and he graduated from Stanford University with it in 1987.  The building he is falling from is currently the only hospital in this town. Its also the tallest it stands at 13 stories and the stars glint off its many window panes along the sides of its four walls. It was built by John Mayburn in the late 90’s its a fresh building. And it made the town sparkle in the night sky. Dr. Arthur is wearing a white lab coat and his unruly black hair is sticking out in all directions. He ignores the wind and the thunder when he falls. He remembers the people who have died at his hands. The women. The children. The old man who had a heart attack and he couldn’t bring him back. No matter how many times they shocked him. The look of pale cold death upon his wrinkled lifeless face. Arthur falls and the wind whistles so loudly he cant hear their families cry anymore. No more deaths he could’ve stopped. Who knows what he sees during those final moments. The dead don't tell you those things. They tell you what they regret. A man named Zachary Hart finds Dr. Arthur the next morning. He’s on his way to work and he sees his uncle lying dead on the pavement. He walks up to him and kneels over. Dr. Arthur is clutching a single note in his hand. And it reads as follows. 

Dear Maria,

Forgive me for what I’ve done. If only I could make you understand. 

With Love, A  

 He leaves his nephew with questions. That only the dead can answer. Zachary Hart rises. He calls 911 and he leaves the body lying there. The smell of death twisting itself into his memory forever. He heads to work at the telephone company down the street holding his deceased uncle’s note in his hands. Maria. Who was Maria? He slides the note into his pocket and takes a left on the sidewalk coming to a stop at a small diner just five hundred feet from his dead uncle. A small sign hangs above the door. It reads as follows, Amy’s Diner. The letters loop like ribbons and the pain is dripping silently down the wood. The same crimson color of blood. He shudders and enters the restaurant. The door dings as he steps onto freshly mopped tiled floor. His shoes squeak from the wet pavement outside. Its that time of year. The dew. The rain. The never ending crappy weather. His glasses fog from the heat inside and he takes them off and wipes them on his blue cotton vest. Probably scratching them. His mother would scold him later for this. Not that she’d ever find out if he could help it. The waitress is a curvy blonde with deep blue eyes and thin lips. She looks tired her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Dark circles surrounding her otherwise almond shaped eyes. 

“Will it just be you today?” she asks. Fixating her eyes on a couple at a nearby table. They're an older couple. But they seem happy. 

 “ Yes, it's just me.” He answers. She leads him to his seat. A table in the far back of the diner. Her curls bounce behind her as she goes. He orders a cup of coffee and she leaves to tend to other people. He pulls the note out of his pocket and reads it again. Then he notices something he didn’t before. He holds the note up the the light and sees something on the other side of the paper. He flips it over and reads an address. 1521 Woodberry St. He knows that house. As a kid his father would drive by there everyday. His family owned it. Well they did until his great grandfather lost it in a quarrel with another family in the twenties. It was surprisingly still standing. The house always scared him though and he'd never gone inside. Too many dark stories surrounded it. There was even a legend about a woman who forced men to fall in love with her and she killed them and buried their bodies beneath the floorboards. That was just a story though. Right? It was just a happy coincidence that the woman's name happened to be Maria Stallings. 

A woman walks into the diner. Dressed in a long overcoat and dark colored pants. Her eyes a bright green. Black locks fall just below her jawline. She spots Zachary and heads over.
“It’s been awhile Mr. Hart. Care for a chat?” She says.

“ I didn’t do it. He’s my brother. “ He protests an anxious looks deepening on his tired face. 

 “ I don’t believe you, “ she says.

  “ You’ve done this before and we covered for you but it won’t happen again. Hart. This is your last chance… Now tell me where it is.” She glowers at him and leans forward. 

“What did you do with it.” She says her high eyebrows disappearing in her bushy black bangs. 

“I told you. I don’t have it. And my brother is the one you should be talking to. He’s the one who is still messing around in this. He stole it in the first place.” 

“ You’re the one who told him where it was.” She hissed.  Her hot breath against his face. He shrugged. His dark brow furrowing in agitation

“I’m sorry.’’ He said. “But I can’t help you.” Zachary made a move to stand, his coffee cup now empty. The woman nodded. 

“Very well, “ She said. “It looks as if we will do this the hard way.”

  “I don’t believe we will be, miss.” An officer stood at the edge of the booth. His blue uniform darkening his already dark skin. A badge was pinned to his chest. His golden buttons on his shirt shimmering in the morning light. “I have business with this man. And I would appreciate it if you would allow me to do so. I’m not exactly in the mood for games ma’am.” He finished his sentence with an obvious cue to leave. The woman took it. 

“Well, I guess I’ll just be on my way.” She said with a tight lipped smile. Her eyes glowered. “We will finish our conversation elsewhere, Mr. Hart.” She said. 

“I believe this conversation was finished before you started it ma’am.” Zach answered. 

The woman nodded and walked stiffly from the diner. The door dinging behind her. 

“ Mr. Hart. I have acquired some information about you recently if you don’t mind discussing it elsewhere.” The officer nodded in a matter of fact way. His bald head shining like a crystal globe as he removed his hat and rubbed his head. 

“I don’t mind at all. “ Zach answered standing and following him from the restaurant to the car outside. The officer introduced himself as detective Moore. The duo climbed in the car and Moore placed his hat on the dashboard. A small dog nuzzled him in the hand and whimpered with excitement. 

“ Get down, Willie.” he snapped rubbing his arms. goosebumps shot up along his arms as the air kicked on. He reached over and turned it down. Sinking deeper into the leather seat he started the car and backed out of the parking lot. He took the long way to the station. Stopping for a minute to pick up some paperwork at the post office. He parked on the left side of the building. 

The station consisted of a small white building with small windows and a newly built bank across the street. To the left was the tow company, which was highly convenient of someone refused to leave they could tow their car next door. The detective took him inside. Greetings to his fellow officers as he passed. It smelled of coffee and printers ink. New paper and a slight smell of gunpowder. They went into an office at the end of the small hallway. 

“Take a seat Mr. Hart.” The detective said. “Let’s get started.” 

“A body was found by the hospital building this morning. A body that you called in.” He stated. His voice was timid. Yet relaxed in some odd sort of way. 

“I found him yes. I was on my way to work and he was just lying there. I also found this.” he said. Reaching into his pocket. The note had no significance to him whatsoever. Why would it matter anyway? He unfolded it and slid it across the wooden desk. Detective Moore picked it up. He read it and turned it over. 

“Where was it?” he asked

“In his hand. I don’t know who this Maria is though. My own mothers name was Katherine. And his wife’s name was Emilee.” He answered. Looking slightly confused and disoriented. 

“This address, its been in your family for generations correct?”

“ Yes but, its so run down and there's nothing in it but dust and old furniture. I'm not sure why he would write this on here. “ 

“Mr. Hart. Are you aware of the murders around here?” 

“Sir this isn’t murder.” Hart answered. “Its something else. My uncle wasn’t a romantic and this letter doesn’t make any sense. Detective can I ask you something?” 

“Depends on the question.” Zach took that as a yes.

“ Do you remember the old story? About Maria. The dead woman.”

“ The story about the old mansion where she made men fall hopelessly in love with her. That old garbage? Mr. Hart we aren’t here to talk about children's stories. We’re here to discuss why you left the scene of a crime. Your DNA is all over that scene. For all we know, you saw what happened. And conversing with old acquaintances in a diner. People known for fraud and theft is not a good reputation to be upholding. Your uncle is dead and you left.”

“I had to go to work.” he protested

“Work, hmm and is that why you agreed to accompany me to this office when you were on your way to work? Is that why you stopped at a diner for a little chat with a robber who is now in prison and being questioned currently? And is that why you aren’t on the schedule to work today Mr. Hart?” Hart looked at him. His face slightly reddening. 

“You are lying Mr. Hart. Now tell me. Where were you really going? The detective leaned back in the chair and folded his hands in front of him. “Go on.” He waved one of them and replaced it. Staring intently at the man before him.

“I was going to meet my brother.” he said. “ He’s been in trouble with his old gang recently. He needed some money. But he texted me and told me to bail. Apparently he got caught. So when that woman showed up asking where the diary was…”

“ Diary? What diary?” 

“It’s an old historical diary worth millions of dollars. But inside there's a code within the letters. Once the code is cracked it will lead to a large amount of money. There's a legend about a man. A soldier who went to war and died. But every entry he wrote was a clue to the money he had to give to his beloved back in America. She never found it. No one knows her name because no one knows where the diary is hidden.” 

“Do you believe in this legend?” the detective asked. 

“What else is there to believe in?’

“There's lots of things to believe in Mr. Hart. A great many of things.” The detective nodded. “And this paper. Or perhaps letter has nothing to do with this diary?’’ he asked.

Zach stared at him for a moment a look of comprehension dawning on his face. He picked up the paper once again and stared at the writing scrawled across the top. The letters. Maria, Forgive me for what I’ve Done. if only I could make you understand. 

With Love, A  

Fidiim. A name. His grandfathers name was Fidiim. Did his grandfather know Maria? Could it possibly be the same Maria from the legends? Zach looked at the note for a long time. His palms sweating. He shuffled his feet anxiously. The detective cleared his throat. Startling him . He jerked upward. He could feel the sweat on his back dripping all the way down his spine. He leaned slightly forward from the back of the chair. Hoping he wouldn't have sweat stains seeping through his shirt. 

“Mr. Hart. You may go for now. I have no further evidence to keep you here for questioning other than that you were at the scene of the crime but there is no proof of any crimes having been committed by your hand. Please follow me.” He stood. His metal chair scraping against the floor. Zach did the same. His heart beating ferociously in his chest. He could feel each thud in the back of his throat. The detective led him to the front door of the station and opened it. Zach took a deep inviting breath. The fresh air calmed his nerves. Made him feel slightly better. He stepped out to the parking lot and turned left. To the street. To the house his forefathers had a dwelling history placed upon that was indeterminate, but he was not going to stop until he found it.
The house was crumbling. Its pillars were cracked and peeling. The roof was broken and missing in some places. Large stained glass windows shattered and cobwebs nestled between the broken window panes on the exterior of the home. The tall iron fence surrounding the house was rusted and it seemed to be leaning at an angle. The house itself was a marble. with two stories, six bedroom and four bathrooms. He went inside. His large boots leaving prints in the dust on the floor just inside. The large intricately carven door was barely hanging on its hinges and it creaked loudly as he shut it behind him. Dust particles were floating. Buoyant and free in the sun rays streaming from the holes in the room above. The stairs were positioned to the left and circled upward and back down. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling. Where it sparkled in the morning light. A grandfather clock donging in the room just beyond the foyer. The floors were a spectacular shade of white. With dust coating them. Mold formed itself around the corners in the ceiling. Where pipes had leaked. A wooden table with what looked like two women screaming in agony carved onto the front was placed purposefully in the center of the front of the staircase. The long white wall behind it adding depth to the dark cedar of the table and the wooden railings that spiraled upward to the second floor. A small book was placed on the center of the table. Zach picked it up and opened it. The leather binding falling apart in his hands. 

“Dear Maria,” He read aloud.  “I am heading south toward the coast today. The sea roars just like I imagined it. The men are frightened, they think were going to die out here. I feel so lost without you here. How are the tulips growing? I haven't seen flowers in so long. Wish you were here, Maria. With love, H.” He turned the page.

“Dear Maria,. The sun is bright today. I wish you could see it. It reminds me of the old days when you and me used to sit in the garden. You always loved those tulips Maria. I wish I could be there with you. We are heading into the east now. I have made a friend Maria, his name is Albert. He is very kind to me. I write him stories and he gives me portions in return. I wish you were here Maria. Take care of those tulips. With Love, H.’ The rest of the diary is the same. He addresses each entry with, Dear Maria, and ends it with  “With Love, H.” Except the last ten entries. One of which is missing. He reads it once again. “Dear Maria, 

“Your beloved has gone from this world. But I am here Maria. He died peacefully as if taken from a dark place and entering a good one. Maria. He is in a better place now. Take care of the tulips. With love, A” He can’t help wonder what happened.  He reads the last entry.

''Dear, Maria

I have made a huge mistake. Your love is gone because of  me. I wanted you to be happy. You must understand I had to get rid of him Maria. His last words were “Tell Maria to take care of the tulips. Tell her I love her.” He is very obsessed with your tulips. I do not know what this means. I am sorry. You have me now Maria. I love you. You don’t need him Maria. I am here.”
The rest of the page is torn off. And Zach takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. He places it beneath the torn paper and everything comes together. Maria, Forgive me for what I’ve Done. if only I could make you understand. 

With Love, A.''

Fidiim. His grandfather. Raymond Fidiim.   But the A. Where does that come from? And there’s a note on the back of the paper. 

“Remember the tulips.’’ The tulips. What was with the tulips? His grandfather was gone but, why was his uncle dead?  Did he discover the truth? Then he remembers about four years ago his uncle used to take him here for lunch. A picnic and he would admire the flowers. The tulips. He went out the back door of the mansion to the flowerbed. Now dead and no tulips whatsoever. He picked up a shovel lying nearby. And examined the freshly dug earth beneath his boots. Something was there. He leaned down and ran his fingers through the dirt. A small black box was hidden beneath. He picked it up and opened the top. A small note was carefully folded on the bottom. He unfolded it and read aloud once more. 

'Dear Maria, 

I need you to burn this diary Maria. It is urgent. Please do as I say. There is no other way. Your beloved’s sister has written me a letter. Telling me of the tulips. No one must find out. Please Maria. Don’t bother with them. Once you read this I will not be alive but, I hope in good time you might still forgive me for how I have wronged you. Maria. Please do as I ask. They are not to be bothered with. 

With Love. A'

He picked up the shovel and started digging. He dug up the whole flowerbed and still found nothing. Then he realized something. The tulips weren’t holding the secret. Fidiim moved them. But where? His sister. His grandfathers sister. But she died years ago. Could he be too late? He left the yard and got into his car. He took the journey across town. Lily Fidiim lived and died here. And his cousin had inherited her old home. He pulled up the gravel driveway and walked to the freshly painted white door. It was a small home with simple furnishing. And three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Collin let him in. His wife , Amy, was watching tv in the living room. She gave a small nod of acknowledgement and then completely ignored them. 

“What’s up?” Collin asked. Collin was a drunk. Dark stains on the front of his shirt and his blue jeans had holes in them. A pair of flip flops on his feet and hair pulled back into a braid down the center of his back. The sat down in the dining room. The table covered in fast food wrappings and empty beer bottles. 

“You remember Lily?” He asked. Straight to the point.

“Yeah. Why?’’ 

“Do you have any of her old letters?” Zach could feel his heartbeat in his throat now. 

“Yeah sure sure, I put em’ back in the closet over there. Should be in a metal box. Or sumthin' like that. You can have em’ if you want. Ain’t got no use for em'. You wanna watch the game? Got a few beers around here somewhere.” He offered taking a swig of the one currently in his hand. 

“No thank you. I’ll just get those letters and head out. It was nice seeing you Collin.” His cousin didn’t answer. He was already passed out drunk. Slouched in a chair and his mouth letting out loud snores. 

Zach went to the closet. The box was in the very back corner. Covered in dust and rusted around the hinges. He knelt to the ground and opened it. There was a small bundle inside. Tied with red string. He took the letters and stood to go when he ran straight into Amy. 

“Good old Lily, You know. She told me once that if anyone came looking for her letters to tell em' that her brother buried something under the tree in the backyard of their old house. She said that they’d know what that meant. Don’t ask me though. I think she was losing her mind there at the end.” She frowned and moved past him to the kitchen. He stood up and felt a grin creeping across his face. 

He shot out the door and to his car. He took the short cut back to the old mansion. There was only one old tree by that house and he knew where the shovel was. He got there to find the shovel gone. Along with the box. Where was it? Who was here? 

“Hello Mr. Hart. Here’s the thing about robbers. We snoop and we steal. You should know. Weren’t you one once?  Oh wait. You still are. Bet you didn’t tell your little cop friend that did you? “ She smiles. Zach stares at her with fury. It’s the woman from the diner.  But, Why is she here?
“What did you do?” He the question slips from his lips before he can stop it. He takes a step forward. She eyes him warily. A gun clutched firmly in her hand. The black box is out of sight but she’s carrying the shovel over her shoulder with her other arm. 

“You found the diary. Like I asked you to now give it to me.” She states. Glaring maliciously at him.

“I don’t have it.” He lies easily. Forcing his eyes to stay on her and not the direction of the car, Where the diary was laying in the backseat. 

“Really? Then why are you here?” 

“I could ask you the same question.” He takes another step forward eyeing the gun in her hand. “You killed him didn’t you? He found the diary. He had a piece of it in his hand when I found him. You knew. That’s why you showed up at the diner. You’ve been spying on me. Haven’t you?” She smiles at him.
“Figured it out have you? Think you’re so smart. Yes I pushed him off that building. Told him there was a patient up there. Gonna jump off the roof. Of course he fell for it. You’re stupid uncle wanted to save everyone. So noble. All the way up to the end. He was a coward. I told him they already jumped. And when he looked over the side, I pushed him. A suicide. Easy. I stuffed the note in his hand and went across the street to wait.” 

“Wait for what?” He asked. Although he already knew the answer. It was simple. Him. She had his brother call him and bail out at the last minute so she could conveniently show up and question him. She knew that he found the note and that he would eventually connect the dots. She played him easily. 

“ I didn’t expect that cop to show up though. But, you know it all worked out anyway.” 

“You used me Maria.” He said, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“No sweetie. You did what you wanted to. I didn’t make you do anything. Zach you were always so naive.“
“I didn’t believe it was you when I saw you. That cop thought I was crazy.  I knew it was you though. All along. The same horrible person you’ve always been. Why won’t you move on? Go wherever spirits go. ”

“I warned your grandfather Zach. He thought he was so slick. Messing around with those other women behind my mothers back. Rose Maria Fiddim she named me. After that coward. That two faced- .”
. “You mean to say. You’re my cousin?” he said. His face draining of color. 

“You’re going to kill you’re whole family? You realize that you still have his blood? And while you live so does he. You can’t-” 

 “Shut up Zack. You can’t change my mind.” She cut him off. He stuttered. Unsure what to say. She set down the shovel she’d been holding and continued speaking. Her voice echoing in the empty yard. The shovel clanked as it hit the ground. 

“ You’re grandfather thought he could seduce me with that stupid diary. He was wrong. I will leave when every one your grandfather ever loved is dead. Your brothers already gone. I killed him right over there.” She said pointing toward the porch. 

“He’s been gone several years now Zack. You’re the last one. And that stupid cousin of yours and his wife. I told your grandfather he would regret what he did. He didn’t believe me. His stupid friend thought he could change my mind. Forget the tulips. Please Maria. Always begging. “ She sneered. All those phone calls. Fake. His own brother dead. 

“What happened to the real Maria? “ He asked. 

“She died years ago.” She answered. “She died believing your grandfather loved her.”

“She died believing your father loved her.” Zack stated. 

“He never loved her. He used her and cheated and lied. My mother was miserable when he died and then she found out he’d been unfaithful the entire time. She was heart broken. “ She trembled with fury. “She killed herself over him. Angry that she’d been used. He humiliated her and I will never forget what he has done. He caused my family anguish and so I will punish him for what he’s done. And that means I have to kill you.” She cocked the gun in her hand and looked at him. He said nothing. He stared at the tree behind her and realized something. He knew what was buried in the ground. Something irreplaceable and that only the real Maria would understand.  He knew something Rose didn’t. But she would soon find out. Rose would realize that her blood was tainted also and she would die herself. And she would face the consequences of her actions. Just like his grandfather did. 

 “Goodbye Zack. “ Rose said. She raised the gun and just before she pulled the trigger he saw a flicker of something else in her eyes. A flicker of regret. The bullet  hit its mark and he crumbled as a red stain slowly spread across his faded blue shirt and everything went dark. 

Detective Moore was in his office when he got a call from the dispatch office. He went to the address and found the dead corpse of Zachary hart lying in the grass. A gun clutched in his hand. A gunshot wound to the chest. Suicide victims didn’t shoot themselves in the chest. The angle was all wrong. The blood stains were all out of place. He could tell the body had been dragged. He shook his head in disbelief. It didn’t make any sense. There was something tucked into his front left pocket. A note. Moore leaned down and pulled it out slowly. Careful not to rip the paper.. He unfolded the note and read. 

 Dear Rose,

It’s a tulip, a dried tulip. Your father buried it beneath the oak tree along with a lock of your hair. I know this because he showed it to me. He always wanted you to find it love. Please forgive me for how I have behaved. I am deeply sorry for how you have been treated. Love your family now for who they are my love, and take care of them. 

With Love, Maria

P.S You have an uncle named Albert. He was the one writing the letters at the end. He killed your father because your father was dying on the field. He did not want to live. Albert did him a favor. He blames himself. Please do not be to harsh on him. He only wants what is best for you. 

“Detective?” A tall woman with black hair and high eyebrows looked at him expectantly. His partner. They’d worked together for many years. 

“Here. Bag this.” Detective Moore said and continued to examine the body. The woman  took the note from him and examined it. After a few moments she started to cry and as the first tear hit the blood stained grass beneath her she disappeared, taking a diary, a letter, and a heart full of sorrow with her. 

Moore went home and opened an old faded journal. He took out a pen and began to write. 

'Dear Maria,

The time has come. I have done what I came to do. I hope you have forgiven me even after all these years. I have done what you asked me to do. She has passed on. 

I have realized that I cannot hold on any longer to this world. My time is over. I must pass on also.  The tulip was never found. Although Zachary came very close.  

With Love, Albert. '