Farewell for now fond reader, friend
this is the start. There is no end.
‘Til I return remember me
Remember all that’s come to be
Of this old place and those that dwell
Somewhere not heaven and not hell.

Be not afraid, only believe
for them, for you, believe for me
The White Lady will come for you
and you will see her beauty too
And join us all in this delight,
In this our everlasting life.

In these two worlds there is a thread
One end my heart, one end my head
My heart goes forth to learn and see
My head stays in reality
But ever she and he are here
Their voices music to my ears.

Friend! Look for me somewhere at night.
Look in your mirror, what a fright
I’ll seem, through Rose Red’s looking glass
No harm to me shall come to pass
So do not vex and do not fear
I no more shed my wasted tears.

I will return to write to you
Of all I see and all I do
Once on her bosom I do rest
And if you read you’ll pass her test
Please pause and feel her presence near
For she knows what you need to hear.

Steve did a good job filling you in, though I didn’t actually intend him to scan the to-do note, he couldn’t help himself. He is a mischief maker.

I was up in Oregon forever, looking after my mom and doing my work remotely. I missed this place like crazy, this home of mine, even if it’s complex and sometimes a little scary. I missed knowing somehow I was close to Nick. If he was dead I could say “I feel him with me everywhere”. But he isn’t…I fully believe that…so I don’t feel him everywhere. I only once in a while feel him here in my Rose Suite. Or, at least I like to think I feel him.

I came home exhausted last night. Steve picked me up at the airport and helped me get settled, because I really was just at the end of my rope. All is OK with my parents now but it took a lot out of me. Plus I’ve spent the whole time being upset that I couldn’t be closer to Emery and Mary with all they’ve been going through. And I’ve missed Steve, and Seattle!

I have so much to show you. Steve’s received a lot of responses to his letter, and I have been doing research and writing some interesting things. Keep an eye out!

I went to bed almost immediately last night and had the strangest dream.

It was actually strangely comforting. I dreamed I was in Ellen’s room standing before her writing desk and flipping through the pages of her diary. Then suddenly, I was drawn to her bed. I walked over and stepped onto the platform, and realised I was wearing a white flowy, old fashioned nightgown. I was just staring at Ellen’s bed, the seat of so many powerful memories. I felt a presence behind me and turned…it was Ellen and Sukeena, looking as they did in old photographs, beautiful and strong.

Ellen beckoned me to the bed and with a tear sliding down my face I climbed in and Sukeena tucked me in. I said to Ellen, “I’m so tired, so tired,” and I think I meant more than simply physical exhaustion. She placed her hand on my foot through the covers and Sukeena took hold of my hand. I closed my eyes, and when I woke up still in the dream, I was laying nude half atop Nick, still in Ellen’s bed, my face resting on his chest.

I gazed into his piercing eyes and cried, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you…” He simply smiled and stroked my hair. I kissed him softly and went back to resting against his chest. I said, “Can we wake up now?”

And then I did. Alone again.

I’m still trying to digest it all. I will write again once I’ve recovered from my trip a bit. Thank you all for your patience and continuing to read…

This is Steve Rimbauer. It’s a bit strange writing Ally’s blog, even though she published a letter for me once. This is a lot more direct. But she’s been caught up in some family issues and asked me to send you an update so you wouldn’t worry. Only Ally could do something this thorough, but she wrote out a whole page of notes about what I should say to you, like I’m incapable of writing things myself.

I’m not offended though because she’s right. I wouldn’t know the first thing to say about what’s going on with this site.

So here goes.

• Emery’s paranormal investigation: She wants me to remind you to check it out. Although the investigation is over we’re both concerned about some of the things we’ve been reading on his blog. However, with what’s going on with Ally’s family she hasn’t been able to get online much to keep up. I keep trying to make her get an iPhone, or at least Blackberry, but she’d rather stay in the Stone Age. So visit his blog and keep up for her! I can tell you, however, that something serious is going on with Emery’s fiancée Mary and her life is in grave danger. It’s almost more than Ally can bear at the moment so I’m sparing her the details. Let’s just keep Mary in our good thoughts.
• Coming soon: Ally’s working on a pretty huge piece about some mysterious disappearances that are linked to Rose Red, decades before Rose Red even existed. Keep your eyes out for that as soon as she can get herself together.
• Also coming soon: Pictures and info have been pouring in already in response to my letter to businesses who might have bought things at my family’s estate auction. Ally knows you love galleries, so she’ll put one together soon.
• My first visit to my family homestead since the tragic Memorial Day weekend is still pending, and yes I’m still nervous, but I’m determined. It’s sort of like that movie What About Bob?, remember it? Classic. “Baby steps to the elevator…” I’m taking baby steps. First the letter, now I’ve got access to Ally’s blog, though I won’t be posting here unless she asks me to. Ally wanted you to know, though, that we haven’t ditched plans for me to jump into the deep end. Plus, there’s that champagne and chocolate.

Ally’s situation is this: her mother was taken into surgery on Wednesday to remove a potentially cancerous tumor that was suddenly discovered. Ally spent the whole day in the hospital while her mom had massively invasive surgery. This is up in Oregon remember, where her folks live. So Ally’s still up there; I drove her up on Tuesday and spent part of the day with Ally in the waiting room on Wednesday, but had to drive back to Seattle to get myself ready for a job on Thursday.

Ally did want me to relay that her mom is doing fine, though, and early tests say it’s not cancer after all. Ally’s caring for her mom for a while (her mom is home now) and then she’ll fly back to Seattle to carry on life here.

Take care, everybody.

-Steve

Emery & Mary have set out on their paranormal investigation expedition I mentioned a few times before. They’re already in the throes of it in the beautiful DeLair Manor up north - a couple hours drive from Seattle in British Columbia.

Rather than reinvent the wheel by telling you the events that are unfolding there now I’ll just refer you to their blog, where you can find Mary’s post about the preparations, Mary’s post about getting underway & getting started in the Manor, and Emery’s post about some scary events that have already taken place.

You can read all about the team that Emery and Mary have taken with them for the investigation on their blog as well.

I’m hoping that either one of them will post an update soon. After what I read in Emery’s latest post, with two of the team already having gone to the ER, I’m understandably nervous. That said, if anyone knows how to survive a haunted house, it’s Emery Waterman! I know that both he and Mary are very capable and careful. Still, it’s a friend’s job to be concerned. Steve called me after reading Emery’s latest post and expressed the same sentiment.

I’m assured that they’ll be posting a history of DeLair Manor soon, and the significance of the paranormal events there & why they’ve gone to check it out. So while I’m getting myself together - because I do have lots to share with you here soon - go catch up on Emery’s & Mary’s adventure!

My thinking at the time (I purchased the plot in 2003) was I would be reunited with Nick, we’d have children, and we could all be buried together when the time was right. I didn’t have any special number of children guesstimated; I could only afford to buy a total of four. Even then, I borrowed most the money from my parents, since so much of mine was still tied up in condo expenses. Believe me, it was hard to ask my parents (who aren’t exactly wealthy, though they’re not poor) for cash for an empty burial plot that may or may not ever be used. At least, in a worst case scenario, I can sell the plot.

With the exception of checking the headstone after its installation I have never even visited the site. I’m not sure if any of his family has, either. His aunt and uncle were the only people he was still in touch with at the time of his disappearance, and even then it was infrequent contact. As I wrote on Nick’s Scrapbook, his parents never responded to my letter telling them Nick’s fate, so it’s safe to say they haven’t visited.

I did put a lot of thought into the design of the headstone, and was given access to the monument maker’s software to pull together elements I liked. I took into account that we may share the plot someday, so I wanted it to be something we’d both be proud to lie beneath. Here’s a screen shot of the design.

I thought the quote was particularly appropriate.

Sunday was my 39th birthday and that’s a pretty big deal. Jeez…39…hard to type it even now. Not so much because of the age itself, those are just numbers after all, right? But I never thought I’d be on the cusp of a new decade, technically en route to “middle aged” without Nick by my side. By now we were meant to be married and, though we didn’t discuss it much, have several little Hardaway kids running amok reading each other’s minds and cracking jokes in posh British accents. Well…maybe simply have kids, period.

Instead I’m heading into that gray time of life when having kids is more difficult and more risky. If I can’t find a way to Nick soon I may never have them. But this is precisely the kind of thinking I wanted to avoid this year, so I decided to surround myself with people who were friends not only to me, but to Nick.

The Rose Red survivors see each other one-on-one or in small groups on occasion, but rarely get together for a full “reunion”. Thanks to Steve that’s precisely what happened Sunday night. It was my idea that we should all spend some time together, but he found the venue(s) and threw the bash.

In attendance were Steve, Emery and his lovely fiancée Mary, Rachel and her husband Brian, Annie, and Cathy and her husband Clark. That’s all the Rose Red survivors, their spouses/significant others (except Steve, who’s single), and me.

ABOVE: Somewhat awkwardly standing on an uneven surface, L to R top: Emery, Steve. L to R bottom: Mary, Rachel, Annie, me. This photo was taken by Rachel’s husband Brian. This was prior to our sitting at the Herbfarm – continue reading for more about that. Cathy & Clark hadn’t arrived yet.

Rewinding a bit, the celebration kicked off earlier in the day when I got a gorgeous bouquet of flowers that arrived mid-morning from Jenn.

ABOVE: Happy birthday flowers.

Prior to that I had phone calls from family and friends, wishing me well. I also had an in-joke manifest itself in a fairly surreal way. A friend of mine (Jayne) from my waitress days is really into 1960s music, and at the time I confessed I had a huge crush on Davy Jones from the Monkees (it must be an Englishman thing…) when I was growing up and they were showing the TV show on Saturday morning reruns. On Sunday, a man in a giant gorilla suit scared the daylights out of me when I opened my front door. He began to sing me a happy birthday song to the tune of “Hey Hey We’re The Monkees”, but the chorus went “Hey Hey Happy Birthday” - since it fits into the meter of the lyric. It was hilarious and uncomfortable all at once.

ABOVE: Here’s the singing gorilla in my hallway.

But he also brought a gift from Jayne, a box of 12 amazing cupcakes from a local bakery. They’re really hip and kinda mod – just Jayne’s style! I ate one for lunch, a good sugar rush that’d leave me bottomed out and ready for the feast to come.

ABOVE: Some of the cupcakes, which I took out and arranged near the sink for the photo op – not the counters, for obvious reasons…

Then I got a little work done, polished up a piece I’d written the night before. After that it was time to get ready! I pampered myself, slipped into my best little black dress and sweetest not-so-tiny black heels, and I was ready to go.

ABOVE: Sacrifice comfort for cuteness, ladies!

I hopped into a cab and headed to the Herbfarm. We had a 4.30pm seating but prior to they do tours of their gardens where you can see growing the things that eventually end up on your plate. They also have an Open House in their wine cellar, so that’s where we met about an hour before our dinner.

In roughly two-by-twos the group assembled in the wine cellar, lots of hugs and laughter and oohing and ahhing over each other. It was a really great vibe. Following the Open House we went up for the stroll in the garden, then settled in for our amazing meal. The only people missing for the initial reunion were Cathy and Clark, but they arrived just on time for dinner.

As you can see from the photo above Annie is particularly beautiful. For all intent and purpose Rachel’s “raising” her - but now that Annie is more functional thanks to her schooling, she and Rachel are best friends as well as sisters. Rachel helps her shop for clothes, they do make-up together, plan each other’s accessories. At 23 Annie is a vibrant young woman and while she still shies away from contact, she talks much more than she did as a teenager, and can be quite grown up. It’s hard not to think of Annie as the little girl she was in 2001 – even at 15, her autism made her the equivalent of a child. Not the case anymore. She’s certainly different still, but nothing like when I first met her.

Rachel’s pregnant, as I’ve mentioned before, and pregnancy becomes her. In a way I felt badly that so much of the evening involved drinking, but she was a designated driver for Brian and Annie – yes – Annie’s legal to drink, too! Brian is a loving and supportive husband, and the life of the party.

Emery looks simply outstanding these days, and he’s clearly over the moon with Mary. They compliment each other so well. Different in all the right ways, and similar in all the right ways. She’s a really pretty woman too – and I told her I’d kill for her shirt, it was the prettiest green I’d ever seen in a garment. They’re going to be heading out on an exciting paranormal investigation soon, so I was happy to have the chance to chill out with them before they depart.

Steve is Steve, he always looks the same to me, even though I’m sure he’s aged like the rest of us. His personality is so much like it was when I first met him…I can’t even say he’s “matured” because he was very mature in 2001, too. The bill for the entire night was on him, and I can’t even begin to imagine how much it cost. For 9 of us (coincidentally, the same number as Joyce’s expedition party) to dine at the Herbfarm and have drinks elsewhere…well since he reads this I shan’t be rude about the pricing, but let’s just say it was a hell of a present. And I dearly appreciated it. Every moment was precisely what the doctor ordered.

Cathy has changed a lot – for the better. She’s let her hair down, literally, because she’s grown it out, lightened it, and looks more casual! Clark has done a great job of boosting her self-esteem, which I got the impression from Nick was less than ideal (from the ‘briefing’ he gave me after the orientation). I think she wanted to be a wilder, more sensuous woman than she was, and while she still remains devoutly Christian (and her husband’s a minister) she’s letting her playful, relaxed side show more now. She was a late bloomer and there’s nothing wrong with that. Clark is a quiet and gentle man, a really kind soul. He’s quite tall so I think of him as a jolly giant, because he loves a laugh as well.

ABOVE: A quick photo of Cathy and Clark in the Founder’s Room as we were getting ready to leave.

The Herbfarm is an incredible experience. It’s a 9 course dinner with 5-6 perfectly matched wines selected for specific courses. A 9 course dinner! I didn’t know what to do with all the food, but it was so delicious. They have “themes” focusing primarily on the bounty of food the Pacific Northwest has to offer. The current theme is “Kobe Beef - Super Cattle in Seattle”. It was divine. Nick would have absolutely loved the experience, with his passion for wine.

To top it off we were seated in the Founders Room, which was absolutely gorgeous and quite private.

After stuffing ourselves silly with dinner and consuming a fair amount of wine (to say the least…some of us more than others), we headed over to The Sitting Room bar/cafe to carry on our celebration. Those of us who took cabs to the Herbfarm hitched rides to the bar with those who planned to be sober enough to drive cars.

ABOVE: Brian was not one of the designated drivers… (And neither was I!)

That’s when the birthday presents came into play, as well as a touching twist. The Herbfarm has desserts built into their menu, so I didn’t expect a cake. But at The Sitting Room, Rachel and Brian disappeared for a little while and reappeared with a platter of a homemade chocolate cake with mocha icing and homemade brownies. All were adorned with raspberries, my favorite fruit. They’d made it all for me together. Annie had the birthday candles in her purse, which she arranged artfully as if playing with her dominoes. Because I drove to the venue with Cathy and Clark, I didn’t know any of this was going on – Rachel had the platter boxed in her trunk, and en route to the bar they stopped to grab a raspberry sorbet Rachel had scouted at a market days before. She scooped it out on the platter and the result is below.

ABOVE: With candles lit and “Happy Birthday” in the air, it really felt like a proper celebration.

Since The Sitting Room operates as a restaurant as well we borrowed some serving wear and ate cake, brownies, and sorbet until I was sure I was breaking seams on the sides of my dress. And of course there were drinks, plenty of them.

The only people whose presents didn’t make it to the bar were Steve, Emery and Mary. Emery and Mary bought me the most gorgeous, authentic Edwardian chair. I’m beyond speechless at such a generous gift! They said it would be nice to return something from Rose Red’s grandest days to the property, but for it to not be tainted with Rose Red’s history. And one of the many fantastic things about post-cognates is they have a pretty good idea when something’s been through a rough time and has icky psychic residue attached. He pronounced the chair “clean”. (I think when he retires from the paranormal he might have a future in antiques!)

ABOVE: My lovely chair, which I placed on the patio outside my suite to get better lighting. It’ll take up permanent residence in my den.

Steve’s gift was of course the evening itself, and he didn’t have to do a thing more. But he did. When I got home that night I found a delivery on my doorstep – a beautiful basket with a bottle of Dom Pérignon, Lindor Truffles (probably one of my favorite things in the world), and Ghirardelli chocolate. He knows my weaknesses. Of course, he’s a chocolate lover too, so I rang him and joked it was a cheap ploy to get me to bring a “picnic” to his place. If he wants that Ghirardelli he’ll just have to come to me!

But it was very generous and while I’ve tucked into the truffles (I can’t resist), I’m saving the champagne and other chocolate for his very first visit, which hopefully will be soon…

I made out like a bandit from the others, as well.

ABOVE: Rachel and Brian bought me this gorgeous, unusual pearl bracelet. I wore it to a meeting today and received lots of compliments.

ABOVE: Annie went shopping with Rachel and picked this out for me herself. It’s such a thoughtful and beautiful present. It’s a very tiny real rose that’s enameled and plated in 24K gold, the “Forever Rose”. She wrote on the gift card “Roses mean remember.” I’m going to put that gift card in one of boxes where I save little things that are completely precious to me.

ABOVE: Cathy and Clark gave me a great dress, and I can’t wait for spring to draw on a little more so I can wear it comfortably. It has a vintage look and came from one of my favorite boutiques. I guess Emery must have told her my dress size – he’d know because he roomed with me in Tacoma after selling his mother’s house and as I said in the wedding interview, I’ve been aiming to stay the same size so my wedding dress will be ready to go at a moment’s notice! At any rate, this dress fits like a glove.

My parents, whom I had dinner with on Saturday night for an early, quiet birthday celebration, gave me an absolutely gorgeous pair of earrings. I’m sure they must have cost a fair bit…everyone’s been so generous to me, even more this year than others. I guess 39 is a big deal after all!

ABOVE: .75 bezel set diamond studs with white and yellow gold setting.

Something that was really special was getting to spend more time with the Rose Red survivors that I don’t know that well, or haven’t seen in a long time. I’ve only met Rachel and Annie a handful of times, for example, but now I feel like we’re great friends. I haven’t seen Cathy in a couple years, though we’ve spoken on the phone. Reconnecting was wonderful. And with the exception of Mary whom I’ve spent some time with, I really didn’t know the rest of the significant others – but we all bonded well.

Now that the festivities are behind me there’s a bit of a letdown, that feeling you get after something really amazing has come and gone. But I can wear my pin and explore Cora’s crystal skull. I can wear my bracelet and continue to catch the eyes of important people. I can wear my dress and earrings and look like a million bucks. I can smell my flowers and eat cupcakes. I can caress my chair and eye the Dom Pérignon for the big day when Steve makes his return to his family’s old estate.

A very happy 39th overall. These lovely people all kept me from over-thinking things. I did miss Nick, and that night in bed as I was falling asleep I hugged my extra pillow – his pillow, technically – and pretended it was him. I could almost hear him saying “Happy Birthday” to me, and I think the best gift of all is that even after 8 years, I haven’t forgotten the sound of his voice. Even if it’s only in my head.

Perhaps you recall I posted some time ago about Cora Frye & the Skull of Doom. To recap, Cora’s granddaughter Janet Ross (from Los Angeles) contacted me with information that Cora owned a “Skull of Doom”, a supposedly charmed crystal skull that she’d bring with her to séances to try to lure spirits, or more aptly, to spook her “clients”. She believes Cora’s crystal skull was present with Cora’s other accoutrement at Ellen’s famed séance. I expressed interest in seeing the skull in person.

Well my wish has come true, far beyond my broadest imaginings! Inside the parcel was a neatly wrapped present, and a gift card that reads “For your birthday: a gift from Rose Red’s past. With warm regards, Janet Ross and Cora Frye.”

My birthday is April 5th, so it arrived just in time. But I couldn’t wait until then to open it! I was absolutely tingling with excitement and couldn’t tear into the present fast enough. Inside the box I found a bundle of beautiful blue silk, and inside the bundle none other than Cora Frye’s “Skull of Doom”!

It’s completely gorgeous and whether it’s charmed with paranormal powers I don’t know, but it’s certainly charged with history and association to Rose Red. Looking at it I could so clearly see it on Ellen’s table beside Cora’s tarot cards and the crystal ball from which the vision of Rose Red, preceding Cora’s prediction, emanated.

I’m not sure if you’ll recall, since I posted it so long ago, but one of the talents Nick was helping me to develop was psychometry or psychic touch (since he believed in my latent psychic powers and thought I had great potential…I guess he was biased anyway). That’s the talent Pam Asbury had quite powerfully. I’m only so-so; I don’t practice much since Nick’s absence.

But I decided I had to give it a whirl with Cora’s skull. I brought it into the den, where Emery said spirits come and go like a thruway, and put it on my coffee table. I knelt beside it and put my hands on it…tried to clear my mind…and to see whatever I could see, or feel whatever I could feel.

I can’t say it was a stunning experiment. I’m rusty and it may take several tries for me to grow accustomed to the skull. But I heard whispers, words I couldn’t understand, and saw little flashes of glimpses of the gargoyles and statuary Ellen had at the estate…which is a vision that’s been coming and going for me, especially in the den.

So I don’t know if that was the suggestion of my subconscious because I’ve had those experiences before, or some genuine visions triggered by the skull. I guess we’ll see as I spend more time with it. Meanwhile, I’ve cleared some space on a side table in the den, artfully arranged the blue silk (because it’s a perfect backdrop), and proudly displayed Cora Frye’s “Skull of Doom”.

I’m now going to dash and write Janet an enthusiastic “thank you” card. This is so totally exciting!

The only consolation is I’m not alone, Steve’s got it too. I’m blaming him for the germ, and he’s blaming me. He pointed out I’m the one who had saliva explode all over her kitchen. It’s a fair point, despite the fact that I’ve disinfected it about a dozen times already. I was encouraged, however, that he was cracking jokes about the paranormal events at my condo. He may be nervous about it, but at least he’s sticking to his promise to be more open about it, and to come on board.

He hasn’t been here yet, but he did do something impressive completely of his own initiative. He drafted a letter he sent yesterday to all antiques sellers, historical societies / museums, and salvage businesses in Seattle and many miles beyond. He’s asking anyone with any items from Rose Red, presumably purchased at the estate auction, to please send him photographs of their stock for this web site. I’ve included the letter here so you can read it yourself, and see how he pitched the idea to his recipients.

I also received an e-mail and a photograph from a friend of Vic’s. Read on…

I’ll address these in reverse order. First, the communication I received from a former fellow congregation member of Vic’s. As you are no doubt aware, Vic was a devout Christian, and he was of the Baptist faith. He scarcely went anywhere without his Bible and he relied on his faith to help him come to terms with the pre-cognitive abilities he possessed. After all, it must not be easy seeing flashes of the future, sometimes unpleasant ones.

But I’ll let Victor’s friend explain:

Dear Ms. O’Sullivan,

I was directed to you by my niece who heard about your ongoing investigation into the goings on at the Rimbauer mansion Rose Red. One of my dear friends, Victor Kandinsky, died at Rose Red in 2001. My niece tells me you also lost someone that weekend, your fiancé, and for that you have my sympathy and prayers for peace.

I thought that I would tell you a little bit about Vic since he seems to be an unsung member of the party that went to Rose Red that weekend. And I’m aware you have a web site where you publish firsthand accounts so it’s my hope you will publish this, and your readers can get to know this wonderful man a little better.

Vic and I were congregation members at the Shelton Baptist Church outside Seattle. I still attend the church and even after all these years there’s something missing, the beautiful presence Vic brought to our place of worship. He was a man whose faith could move mountains, although his self-confidence, psychologically speaking, sometimes got in the way.

As long as I knew him, which was almost twenty years, Vic was kind-hearted and concerned, intelligent, well-schooled and witty, and a rock of support on which others could lean.

I also believe he was a bit shy and often felt personally lonely, because his psychic talents certainly separated him from any crowd. It was only in later years that he began to open up to us about his abilities. He didn’t want the congregation at large to know because there is something of a stigma on those who have misunderstood gifts. I must admit that when he demonstrated his gift to me the first time I was shocked and momentarily questioned if he was taken by some intimidating spirit. But the concern for others to which he applied his talents made it clear to me that he had a genuine psychic ability that he so wanted to use for good. Sometimes it caused him great suffering.

I remember when he was in his mid forties and he first opened up to his closest friends, some of whom had already witnessed enough to suspect something wasn’t quite “normal” about him, and confessed his ability. He was compelled by an event that he foresaw but couldn’t prevent. It was terrible and haunted him for years, possibly still haunted him to the day of his death. By the way, he was fifty seven when he died.

I think it was 1990 when the life-altering event occurred. A chartered plane carrying 24 college students, 4 university staff, and a crew of 3 crashed shortly after take-off from a small regional airport in a treacherous fog in Indiana. It wasn’t far from where Vic grew up. The plane was a total loss and all 31 people on board perished. Vic foresaw the event in grisly detail in his dreams for a full week leading to the event, including the markings on the plane that identified the airline. After the fifth dream and several visions he had while awake he called the airline. He told me he felt completely foolish but knew he had to do something. He wasn’t sure if the airline was going to report him to the authorities as being involved in some kind of plot but as it happened he never even got that far in the chain of communication. The airline representative seemed to think he was crazy, but told him that plane was actually operated by a smaller airline that was doing business with the larger one. So, he called the smaller airline, who undoubtedly thought he was insane (the representative he spoke to accused him of being “sick” and a “prankster”). He called several times and finally the airline passed the buck. They told him to call the airport since what he was reporting was an issue that could be avoided by air traffic control if the weather forecast involved thick fog. So he called the airport and tried to get in touch with the tower, but the operator cut him off at the pass. She advised him to seek professional help and when he called again to plead his case, she hung up on him.

There was nothing more he could do. When the news of the crash hit the airwaves Vic was despondent for weeks. That’s when he told us what had happened and that his ability to see the future had been present all his life. And as I said before he backed up his claim with proof by making a frivolous but detailed prediction that came true moments later.

Outside of the friends who knew of his talents and the larger congregation who loved him even though they didn’t know the “real” him, Vic had nobody in his life. Only once did he pursue a romantic relationship in his younger days. She was a beautiful, tall, slim blond haired woman with sparkling blue eyes and an infectious smile, he said. But his infatuation was one-sided. She was in love with another man. When I heard the accounts of Vic seeming to take a liking to the young psychic Pamela Asbury and saw photographs of her in media coverage I immediately knew why he would fancy her. She matched the description of his first and only love.

With only a handful of friends and no romance, he spent most of his time dividing his life into work and faith. He was constantly at the church and volunteered for every event. He owned a small party supply store that mostly did its business renting helium tanks to event planners. Although his desire waned over time in the earlier years I knew him Vic loved any opportunity to be social, probably because he liked the warmth of other people around him, even if I think he was secretly uncomfortable in his own skin. He loved to dance but gave it up when his health took a turn for the worse when he was 50.

He had a heart attack at age 50 and was diagnosed with severe coronary artery disease which doctors did their best to clear and keep him from further cardiac episodes. However the result was persistent angina which he suffered from until his death. He carried nitroglycerin everywhere. Nitroglycerin and his Bible, those were his two life companions. I believe that if he’d had his nitroglycerin with him at the time of his second heart attack at Rose Red, he would have survived.

Not much is known about the final moments of Vic’s life except from the account of Emery Waterman, which I read in an interview. If he was wandering the ground in his pajamas he wouldn’t have had a pocket to fit his nitroglycerin bottle in anyway. And the miniseries’s portrayal of Vic as hiding his heart condition from the rest is quite accurate. He never wanted to be thought of as a frail old man, especially given his age. 50-60 is hardly frail old man territory and he somehow got it into his head that people would judge him that way and limit him from participating in things that might trigger a cardiac event, like stop him from taking part in the annual church fund raiser golf outing. Again, only his few close friends knew about his heart condition. The congregation knew that when he was 50 he became ill and was hospitalized but he never told the church exactly what the problem was and since he hid it afterwards, I imagine everyone assumed he was cured.

All in all Vic was a gentle soul whose faith and compassion were and still are an inspiration to me and to others who knew him. He was somewhat tortured by his psychic talent and his physical frailty and he sadly deprived himself of a larger support network by keeping secret those two facts. I also found it very sad that he ran a business where he saw people planning parties excitedly and never threw any of his own. Outside of church functions, that is. He didn’t really know enough people outside the congregation to have parties. I think he participated vicariously in the social lives of others in his shop.

His business was sold after his death. His brother is alive and living in Ohio, but had no interest in the store. Vic seemed to keep his family at a distance, physically and emotionally, hiding even from them the secrets he kept.

When he died and news of the incredible, terrible events in Rose Red became known following that weekend in 2001 the entire congregation was in shock and grief. We mourned him for many months, and I’ve enclosed a photograph of our church’s outdoor sign, where we usually advertise our service times, upcoming religious holidays, and our events. Instead this memorial message was by unanimous vote of the congregation displayed exactly this way for a full month after Vic’s death.

“Be not afraid, only believe” was his favorite Biblical phrase and a sort of mantra for him. Moreover, he used it to comfort those who were going through difficult times. Many’s a time I saw him put his arm around someone’s shoulders and say “be not afraid, only believe” in such a tender way.

I’ve taken enough of your time now but I thank you for indulging me in this walk down memory lane. I find my eyes growing misty even as I write this because I still miss Victor greatly. Few times in life do you meet someone with such compassion, such a love of life, and such a love of God. It’s my most fervent prayer that he is resting peacefully and not, as some suggest, trapped somewhere with tormented souls.

God bless you and all who have been affected by Rose Red.

Sincerely,

Anthony M. Russo

I thought that was a rather touching and poignant message. I am very happy to have gotten it, because I knew next to nothing about Vic. Now I feel rather sad for him, especially the idea that he lived the social lives of others vicariously through watching them plan and shop for party supplies in his store.

And the photograph he referenced is, as you may have figured out, above the e-mail.

Now moving forward to the letter Steve wrote. I won’t copy and paste it here since I have a copy of the letter in .PDF format. I’ll link you to that, so you can see it precisely as he designed it. I only made one alteration – I removed his personal contact information (and blurred it in his company logo). It’s not that I don’t trust you, but Steve’s still very famous in paranormal circles because he’s a Rimbauer, and once in a while that results in some undesirable contact.

View Steve’s letter here.

I’m looking forward to seeing what kind of response he generates. And, of course, I’m salivating (not as much as Sukeena, apparently) at the idea of finding new objects from the house that we can admire, and maybe learn a thing or two from…

I’ll let you know when replies start rolling in. But Steve has my gratitude for doing this, it’ll be his first major contribution to my work!

If so inclined, you can view Our Wedding Gallery here.

The second gallery is of greater interest, and I think you’ll find something to like therein. It’s a gallery of items from The Ellen Rimbauer Museum, which closed its doors in 2007. But its owners kindly sent me catalog photos of their inventory, so I’m able to show you lots of Ellen’s personal items purchased from the estate auction or donated by the Gilchrist family.

Check out The Ellen Rimbauer Museum gallery here.

Truth is Rose Red is still here, just not in the same way. Life here in my Rose Suite has to go on, even when it gets weird. My friendships, like plants, need nurturing to grow. I knew Steve would be upset with me, you may recall I wrote about it a couple days ago. He did call me, though he wasn’t as angry as I expected. We arranged dinner out, which we did yesterday. Chill. Nice. The sort of thing completely normal friends with completely normal ties to each other do. Except the tie that binds him and me is losing our significant others in a haunted house eight years ago…

Far from normal, wouldn’t you say?

I think Steve copes a lot with avoidance, and I don’t think he’d mind me sharing that with you. He’s aware of it. Enthusiasts will remember he persistently denied having any memories of meeting Ellen in the house when he was a boy until Nick dragged it out of him. He can sublimate things well for self-protection. It’s not always healthy, but sometimes it’s necessary for survival.

Really, if we value each other, what good is there in continually butting heads over my living situation? Steve knows I’m not budging. I know Steve’s concerned. Same conversation, over and over…we just don’t have it in us anymore.

We talked about other things, instead. And that was a little unexpected, but I guess that’s the point we’ve reached after the events in my condo the past two weeks. At that point I thought we were going to go on avoiding talking about Joyce or Ellen or anyone else as much as possible. For that moment it was good for both of us. Maybe I need a break once in a while, too.

So we went out to dinner at a small place, where we could have a decent meal and privacy enough to enjoy a chat. After the week I’ve had – pouring over books for work, pouring over research for this site, etc. - a night out was just what the doctor ordered. A couple bottles of wine later and we were tipsy but happy.

I went back to Steve’s place which is a really nice penthouse apartment with a fantastic view. His ultimate bachelor pad, though he doesn’t treat it that way. I don’t know why, he’s a handsome eligible guy, women ought to be throwing themselves at him. (Perhaps they are, and he’s still too shaken to catch them.) What he’s done with wise investments has worked well for him – plus what was leftover from the sale of Rose Red and all its contents, and the royalties from the miniseries and Ellen’s diary – and he does have a day job in computers, but he’s his own boss so he sets casual hours. He initially had lots of debt to pay off from his family’s “broke-itis”, as he calls it, but that’s all in the past.

Once we were in his flat he handed me an envelope and told me to open it when I got home. He has a habit of doing that when he gives a gift or something…”open it later”, “wait until X date” or “Y time”. It’s simultaneously thoughtful and frustrating. We watched some TV and had some more wine. We rode the buzz and had a few laughs. He’ll deny it, but as I left he laughed and said “tell Joyce my jaw hurt for days”, referencing how she had struck him repeatedly in the face when he tried to take her from the house.

When I hopped a taxi home I was too drunk to open the envelope, so I put it down and passed out. I woke up with a hangover, of course (why is it Thursday nights always result in a hangover for me? Nick and I always went out most on Thursday nights). My mobile phone rang and it was Steve, who said he was in a similar state. I think we were both whispering, we were so sensitive to sound. I asked him what the hell he was doing calling at 8am, he asked if I’d opened the envelope. I said I hadn’t but I would when I got some coffee down me. He was clearly excited about its contents. I told him I’d call him later, but before we hung up he said, “2021”. And the flow of conversation went something like this.

• Steve: 2021.
• Me: What?
• Steve: That will be 20 years.
• Me: From what?
• Steve: From 2001.
• Me: Oh…um, yeah. 2001 plus 20, that’s 2021. Is this how you sober up, with math?
• Steve: No, I’m saying it’ll be 20 years in 2021. And I think, really, if by then Nick isn’t back, and Joyce isn’t back…though I don’t want her back the way you want Nick back…anyway if they’re not back, it’ll be 20 years, and maybe time to move on.
• Me: You want me to plan to sell my condo in 2021?
• Steve: No, think about a whole new life in 2021. If Nick’s not back by then, if all this research hasn’t turned up anything we can do to help the people Rose Red took, then I think maybe you and I should go start a life somewhere new. Paris, maybe. Do you like French food?
• Me: We?
• Steve: Uh…yes, you and me. Come on, if we’re still single in 20 years we owe it to each other to have one of those stupid pacts male and female friends have, you know, the kind you see in movies…and it wouldn’t be so bad.
• Me: I got that bit. But ‘we’? You said…’anything we can do to help’, we implies you and me…helping Rose Red’s victims together.
• Steve: Wait, I’m basically giving you a 20 year proposal and you’re stuck on semantics?
• Me: I have a really hard time imagining myself giving up on Nick even 20 years from now…
• Steve: Sure, nevermind. It was cliché.
• Me: But if I do start a new life it’ll be with you. OK? Cliché and all. I’d choose nobody else, you’re it. You’ve stuck by me through all this and I love you for it. If I wipe the slate and you’re still single we can go be crazy in Paris, or maybe Rome. Or Istanbul, or how about Beijing?
• Steve: Deal. We have 20 years to iron out the details. And yes, Ally…I think maybe it’s time I stopped burying my head in the sand. I meant ‘we’. Open the envelope. Call me later.

And that was that. Cryptic, dizzying, unexpected, and a little bit odd.

So I made a gigantic pot of coffee, pulled closed the blinds, took a couple aspirin, and sat down with the mysterious envelope.

What I found inside wasn’t so much for me, but for you. That’s right, dear readers. It was for you.

Hello everyone,

I, like you, read Ally’s blog almost every day. It’s a bit weird being talked about but my story is in good hands with her. She’s right about everything she says about my fear of Rose Red and how unhappy it’s made me that she’s living on the property. I hate that she has some of Rose Red’s architectural elements in her condo. I don’t know what I was thinking giving her the crystal bowl, I guess I thought she’d like some tangible connection. Now she has more connection than I am comfortable with. The house was supposed to be gone. And I won’t even begin to go into how I feel about the things that were revealed after Emery’s visit.

Actually, I think I’ll send Emery an e-mail too, why should Ally be the only one to be scolded?

Back on track. Point is, you know I’m not crazy about Ally being where she is. What you may not know but should know is that I do admire her tenacity and compassion. She’s there because she loves her fiancé and she wants to be near him, and she also wants to solve whatever mystery is at the heart of Rose Red. She has a feeling solving it will bring Nick back, and I guess Joyce and Pam and maybe even Vic, and Ellen, and April, and Sukeena, and…

I suppose those too old to be alive or who were killed on the property will simply be dead on arrival, right? I don’t know how it’ll work. I’m not sure it’s a well thought plan, which is why Ally needs some help.

Ally’s an idealist. She’s in there with ghosts for roommates and she’s digging hundreds of years into family histories to put together connections between Rose Red and mystery or tragedy elsewhere. She does it because she thinks every time she makes a connection she’ll be closer to understanding what Rose Red is really all about. And if she understands why Rose Red is the way it is, then she can free the spirits. Exactly how, I don’t know, and I’m not sure Ally’s gotten to that point in her theory either.

It’s not the best plan I’ve ever heard, but I can’t think of a better one. At least it’s an intellectual plan, not running recklessly into something dangerous the way Joyce and the rest of us did that weekend. For lack of a better idea and for the fact that I care about Ally and know she needs help sorting this all out, and because like her and Nick I suppose I really want to see the people Rose Red harmed brought back and made well, I’m going to help Ally from here on out.

Dee needed me to keep her from bouncing off the planet with her theories and obsessions. Ally needs me to keep her on track and help her decide “what’s next?” after every piece of the puzzle’s in place. I’m good in the supporting role. I should get an Oscar.

No more being afraid. No more denial. If I get pissed off I’ll say it, but I’ll try not to be argumentative. If I get scared I’ll admit it, and I’ll explain why. But I want to be part of Ally’s research because I do have things that I can offer, resources available to me that may be useful. If nothing else maybe they’ll be entertaining to you, the readers. And let me tell you, every single one of you means so much to Ally. I think she feels less alone knowing that this site is visited daily and that people are sharing her story.

I’m ready, so you get ready to hear more about me in the coming months. I don’t care if Ellen’s whispering in Ally’s condo; I turned Ellen away once, I can do it again. I don’t care if Joyce is typing her initials on Ally’s computer at all hours of the night. I left Joyce behind once, I can do it again. I’m going to visit Ally’s condo soon. Maybe the first time with Emery, or maybe not. I don’t know. I’m still in touch with Annie but there’s no way in hell I’m bringing her back.

I plan to get totally wasted with Ally tonight, but I’m sober writing this. So you have my promise that Steven Rimbauer is on board. I am tired of hiding from my own last name. I hate being afraid hearing the words “Spring Street” let alone “Rose Red”.

I was wrong when I said it would never be over as long as the house stands. It’s not over yet, which means there’s work to be done to finish it for good, and I don’t want to let Ally do all the work by herself.

Thanks for reading. Keep it up. Everybody who loves Ally appreciates you keeping her virtual company with your visits, comments, and tweets.

- Steve Rimbauer

PS. To get things started I’ve enclosed two old photos. Ally can scan them. One is my grandfather Adam in Rose Red when he was a baby. The other is my father James in the house where my grandparents settled in Oregon. I’ll let Ally fill you in on the rest, and she’ll understand why I selected these specific photos to show you.

And one more thing. I do dream about the hammer every once in a while.

So there you have it. Steve’s on board. How involved he’ll be I don’t know. And when he plans to visit I don’t know either, but you can be sure I’ll keep you updated. I hardly know how to respond to this…it’s something I’ve been craving on so many levels. I told you once before part of me hoped Steve would wake Rose Red up, but Rose Red’s already waking up. I won’t need Steve’s help to stir the spirits. But having his support to keep me in one piece while I do all this will be most welcome.

As to the photos, here they are. I love them, I hope you will too.

ABOVE: Adam as a baby. There’s something really haunting, almost disturbing about the way his face is displayed here. By all accounts Adam was a normal child and aside from some of the terrible events he witnessed in Rose Red before he was sent away, he wasn’t some devil child. But he looks almost afraid or possessed, doesn’t he? The beautiful wicker high chair is a real throwback to generations gone by. It’s clear that he was doted on; I do feel badly for Ellen that he was taken from her at such a young age. When you think about it, she suffered greatly in life.

ABOVE: This is Steve’s dad James, far away from Rose Red in Oregon, where Adam and his wife Ethel settled. It wasn’t until James married a Seattle area beauty (who lost her looks as her alcoholism progressed) that the Rimbauer name returned to Seattle. I see a family resemblance between Adam and James – James was a bit older than Adam when this picture was taken. But look how jolly James is. Every Rimbauer should have experienced such joy, but that wasn’t to be. Notice that Adam did salvage his old high chair from Rose Red’s attic, so James is sitting in Adam’s old chair, decades later. James stayed clear of Rose Red when he returned to Seattle. He told Steve the place gave him the creeps and made him feel something heavy inside, like sadness but so thick it could strangle him. James was usually a happy-go-lucky guy, so staying clear of Rose Red was good for him. Unfortunately he died in 1983 (Steve was 11) from a sudden heart attack while he was working (interestingly he was a botanist, and given the way plants behave on the Rimbauer property he might have found a lot to study here, had he visited). Steve’s mom Aimie died in 1996, leaving 24 year old Steven an orphan. He’d already dropped out of college – his mom’s health was bad for several years before her death and while he wasn’t always the greatest caregiver, his family situation weighed heavily on him. He drifted, caught in the web of his frightening lineage and the Rimbauer debt. It was a dark time for him, until he met Joyce. Then he had someone to care for, a sort of mother figure and a girlfriend rolled into one, twisted as that sounds.

I have a feeling this is only the beginning of things Steve will share with us as time goes by. I’m excited!

After reading Steve’s letter today and recovering (mostly) from the hangover, I combed through Nick’s and my CD collection for some music to accompany my work. I found a CD that was released in 2000 as a companion piece to a really strange book called House of Leaves. The CD was done by the author’s sister, a singer named Poe. It’s called Haunted.

House of Leaves sort of reminds me of Rose Red, in a way. It’s a daunting 700+ pages long, and it’s a totally confusing read. But it’s worth reading if you enjoy unnerving stories that force you to think and feel. I reviewed it once in 2000 when it was published. That was before the events in Rose Red. Reading Ellen’s diary in 2001, as Nick was in the mansion experiencing its terror, brought back some memories of this haunting book. I was delighted when I noticed companion music to the book and Nick and I listened to the CD several times.

The CD has a lot of creep factor itself. Disembodied voices, songs with haunting lyrics…and Poe’s voice pulls it all off beautifully. Listening to it again today I realized just how potent those lyrics are, and how they have come to apply to my life now. Back when Nick and I enjoyed the CD, it was simply a collection of songs that were somewhat reminiscent of things he’d experienced in his paranormal studies…but as they’d say in Spinal Tap, to paraphrase, cranked up to 11. Neither of us suspected that come 2001 an invitation to visit Rose Red would bring House of Leaves and Haunted to life in a whole new way.

Take the song “Haunted”, which can be heard in the fairly awful film Book of Shadows – Blair Witch 2. It’s a song that now that I’ve heard it again, will be stuck in my head for ages. You can hear a clip here. And another song, “If You were Here”, made me cry. Nick used to say the song reminded him of his mum and pop. Now it just reminds me of Nick. You can hear a clip here.

Examine “Haunted” a bit and you’ll see what I mean about its significance. Especially now that I know what Emery found here.

Come here.
Pretty please…
Can you tell me where I am?
You…won’t you say something?
I need to get my bearings,
I’m lost -
And the shadows keep on changing.

And I’m haunted
By the lives that I have loved,
And actions I have hated.
I’m haunted
By the lives that wove the web
Inside my haunted head.

Don’t cry,
There’s always a wa.
Here in November in this house of leaves
We’ll pray.
Please, I know it’s hard to believe -
To see a perfect forest
Through so many splintered trees.
You and me…
And these shadows keep on changing

And I’m haunted
By the lives that I have loved,
And actions I have hated.
I’m haunted
By the promises I’ve made,
And others I have broken.
I’m haunted
By the lives that wove the web
Inside my haunted head.

I’ll always love you.
I’ll always need you.
I’ll always want you.
And I will always miss you.

Come here!
No I won’t say please.
One more look at the ghost
Before I’m gonna make it leave.
Come here.
I’ve got the pieces here.
Time to gather up the splinters,
Build a casket for my tears.

I’m haunted
By the hallways in this tiny room,
The echos there of me and you.
The voices that are carrying this tune…

Don’t you see how those could apply to me…and not only to me, but to Ellen! If you read her diary you’ll imagine these lyrics everywhere as her suffering unfolds. The loss of April, and in a lesser way, the loss of Adam. The feeling that Rose Red was mocking her, the promise to step up to the challenge by sending her servants away and depriving the house of life energy. Her hurt and hatred for John. Her mourning for Sukeena. The house’s mind of its own, the way it grew by itself after her disappearance.

Following the song is a very strange sequence that gives me shivers.

A voice that’s meant to be a father asks:

What is it Annie?

In response, a weird little girl’s voice, rather spooky, saying:

You think I’ll cry? I won’t cry!
My heart will break before I cry!
I will go mad.

I don’t know about you, but that seems very much like Ellen to me. (How coincidental the girl’s name is Annie.) Again, much of this ties to the book, but the music stands independently, too.

The second song, “If You Were Here”, is purely sentimental. There is the voice of the father again woven into the spaces between verses, as if writing a letter to his child. But that’s not what strikes me, and not what made me cry. It was the words of the verses…especially given the dream I had the other day.

If you were here,
I know that you would
Truly be amazed
At what’s become of what you made.
If you were here,
You would know how I treasured every day.
How every single word you spoke
Echoes in me like a memory of hope.

When you were here,
You could not feel the value that I placed
On every look that crossed your face.
When you were here,
I did not know just how I had embraced
All that you hid behind your face -
Could not hide from me,
‘Cause it hid in me too.

Now that I’m here, I hear you and wonder if maybe you can hear yourself
Ringing in me now that you’re somewhere else.

‘Cause I hear your strange music gentle and true,
Singing inside me with the best parts of you.
Now that I’m here,
I hope somewhere you hear them too.

Now that I’m here…
I love you…

Then the girl’s voice again, devastating:

It’s okay. You can go now.

Nick can’t go now. I can’t go now. We’re not finished.