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At the time it was the physical attributes of the house and property she’d been most interested in, so she hadn’t taken much time to find out more about the history. She did that now, perusing slowly through the websites that mentioned the house, gathering its history.
Before the California Gold Rush in 1849, hunters had flocked to the state to take advantage of its enormous wealth of resources. One such man, Hubert Bancroft, made his fortune as a fur trader and in 1876, then built what was later named Lilith House. Though the family—who only grew wealthier as trade increased and they delved into other business ventures—would eventually build on and expand the dwelling, it was considered one of the finest mansions of its time, especially in a part of California that remained relatively poor.
When more recent generations, apparently lacking the same ingenuity and grit as their forefathers, all but squandered the family fortune, Black Monday was the final nail in the coffin of their wealth, and in 1987, Wendell Bancroft, now penniless, walked into the forest and hung himself from the branch of an ancient ponderosa pine. The bank took possession of the house.
In 1988, the leader of the Women’s Ministry in Farrow reported receiving a directive from God that they purchase the Bancroft house and turn it into a Christian girl’s school to house troubled young women. The Women’s Ministry members pooled all of their resources, and with the townspeople’s help, they raised the money for the purchase of the property. They named it Lilith House, and began accepting applicants in the fall of 1989.
Scarlett clicked on the image of an old brochure, a logo at the top with a tagline beneath: My utmost for His glory! She read it once and then again. What did that mean? Some Biblical phrase, she assumed. There was a block of copy below and she zoomed in on it: Lilith House seeks to mend and rebuild the characters of girls who have consistently turned toward Satan and away from their Savior.
Scarlett squinted one eye. Maybe she wasn’t the most religious person—though she’d count herself as spiritual—but that copy sounded downright disturbing. Who read that and thought, that’s where I’m sending my child?
Parents at the end of their ropes, she realized with a sigh.
She zoomed in on the photo on the cover. It was a group of twelve girls standing stoically in front of what was now Scarlett’s home. As her eyes moved from face to face, a chill moved through her, born of what she wasn’t entirely sure. These were supposedly defiant troublemakers, and yet each one of them looked empty-eyed and slack-jawed, staring vacantly at the camera. Her eyes were drawn to two young women at the edge of the group, one with vibrant red hair, and the other tall and dark haired. An older woman stood just next to them, wearing a gray dress and a choker of pearls. She was unsmiling, but there was an out-of-place . . . almost . . . perverse satisfaction in her expression that caused Scarlett to instinctively lean away from her photograph.
She glanced quickly through the rest of the brochure that talked about programs and amenities, and then looked back at the photo, averting her eyes from the gray-haired woman. The students were wearing burgundy uniforms and they all sported the same short haircuts devoid of any real style—which, was it just her, or was that sort of odd?—so Scarlett couldn’t tell what year the photo might have been taken. Kandace wasn’t in it, so it had to be taken prior to her arrival. She’d run away from Lilith House just before the fire broke out and the school shut its doors forever, so no brochure would have been created after Kandace left.
If it was taken just before Kandi arrived, these might be the twelve students who died tragically in the fire. Scarlett swallowed, her shoulders drawing up as her gaze again bounced from one unsmiling face to another. Troubled girls, sent off by their families, never to return.
She tried to picture beautiful, stylish Kandi in one of those boxy, nondescript uniforms, a choppy haircut, and no makeup and couldn’t. Kandace, who had always favored tight jeans and bright lip gloss.
Scarlett did another Google search about the fire that had occurred in the small chapel that had once sat behind Lilith House. She knew the twelve young women living there at that time had died tragically in the fire, along with five staff members. Seventeen souls had perished. What she didn’t know was that it was thought a lightning strike had caused the fire. “How awful,” she murmured.
“What, Mommy?” Haddie asked.
Scarlett brought her head up. She’d become too involved in her search, fallen down the rabbit hole of Lilith House’s past. But what a past it had. “Nothing, honey. But guess what? The movers are going to be here tomorrow with our beds and our other things,” she said to Haddie with a smile.
