THE MYSTERY OF ROANOKE: CHAPTER 2: TWINS' GRANDPARENTS SHED LIGHT ON HISTORY OF HOME (SECOND OF 14 PARTS)

The story so far: Twins Brian and Melissa O'Donnell, 10, have moved to Roanoke to stay with their grandparents while their parents sell the family farm in West Virginia. On the first night at their grandparents' house, an old 1849 brick manor called Belle Vie, the lonely twins sit on the front porch by candlelight. Something strange flickers in the yard. They think it may be a ghost.

Melissa and Brian followed Grandma inside. They walked past the kitchen, where Grandpa and their parents were finishing the dishes. Grandma led them into the library and closed the door.

"Sit down, kids," she said. "There's something you should know."

The twins perched nervously on the old love seat. Its pale blue chintz had faded to gray and was worn through in spots. It was over 100 years old. Grandma sat near them on the piano bench.

She took a deep breath and let it out in a slow stream. "As you know," she began in her soft, honey-like voice, "your grandfather and I have lived here a long time." She glanced at the wall, at a painting of the house from the 1800s, when the land around it still belonged to the O'Donnells. In the painting, the fields were full of crops and horses ran in the pasture.

"Since before Dad was born, right?" Brian asked.

"That's right. And many O'Donnells have lived here before us. And many other people have lived here, too. Long ago, although I hate to think of it, there were people who worked in the house as . . . servants, and some who cared for the crops and the animals."

Melissa looked up at the painting and noticed the people working in the fields. "You mean slaves?" she asked in a whisper. "Here? At this house?"

Grandma pressed her lips together and nodded. "Yes."

The twins remembered what they had read about slavery. "That's terrible," Brian said. His stomach felt tight, thinking that his own family had once owned people as slaves.

Melissa just stared at her grandmother.

Grandma put her hand to her cheek. "Yes, it was terrible. Things were very different then."

She went on. The young mistress at Belle Vie, Elizabeth O'Donnell, hated slavery but didn't know how to stop it. So she did her best to be good to the slaves. As a widow, she didn't want to lose her farm, and she didn't think she could run the place without them. And she had only one child to help her.

So, even though Miss Elizabeth was kind, there was a shadow over the house, Grandma said.

"Anyway, I just wanted you to know that there is a long history to this house that we never told you about. There have been many lives here." She paused. "And I think _ Grandpa and I think _ that sometimes they may be here still."

"Do you mean ghosts?" Brian asked. He and Melissa looked at each other with their mouths open.

"Well, not exactly ghosts, but maybe _ memories of people. I don't know what they are. But they aren't frightening. They're like old friends. Sometimes it just seems as if someone's there." She smiled. "We just don't want you to be afraid. This will be your home for some time now."

Brian and Melissa both thought about the smoky wisp they had just seen on the front lawn.

After Grandma and Brian went back to the kitchen, Melissa looked at the old upright piano. It had belonged to Miss Elizabeth. With gentle fingers, she touched the keys. She thought about all the people who had lived in the house.

As she stood there, she became aware of a scent. It smelled like lilacs.

She looked around but saw no flowers. She hurried out to join the others.

Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Brian lay awake in his upstairs room. Melissa's room was down the hall. All the adults were downstairs. Grandma and Grandpa had a big room on the main floor because the stairs were hard on Grandpa's knees. And the twins' parents were in the guest room near the library.

Brian couldn't sleep. He wasn't scared, exactly, but he couldn't stop his mind from thinking. What was going on in this old house?

A wind had blown up. He listened to the tossing of the pines outside his window. The house was full of sounds. A rhythmic clang: the plumbing. Creaky wood: the wind hitting the house.

Suddenly the French doors to the balcony flew open with a bang. The filmy white curtains in the room flapped like ghosts. A storm was coming.

Brian leaped out of bed. With shaky knees, he closed and latched the doors. In the dim light, he saw something written on the outside of the glass. The letters were dark gray, and looked as if they had been written by someone's finger dipped in ashes. Brian held his breath and read the two words:

WELCOME FRIENDS

Next week: A box with a secret.