Mystery of the Dark Tower (9 page)

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Bessie said. “Maybe I should just go to the Dark Tower and ask Miss Walker for Papa.”

“And what will you do if she refuses to let you see him?” Lillian said. “No, you're right, this is a better idea. Miss Flo must get rid of the woman so your parents can get back together. You don't want to live with your aunts forever, do you?”

Bessie rang the doorbell. Her knees shook. Sweat popped out on her forehead. But she felt better knowing that she didn't have to face Miss Flo alone.

When Miss Flo opened the door, Lillian blurted out, “Good afternoon, Miss Flo. She wants to ask you something,” and shoved Bessie forward.

“What can Miss Flo help you with, me dears?” Miss Flo asked.

“Uhh … uhh,” Bessie stammered. “I want to put a conjure on somebody and I …”

“Come in then,” Miss Flo said, smiling and motioning them inside. “Come right in.”

Bessie stood at the door, so frightened she couldn't open her mouth or move.

“Come in,” Miss Flo said again. “If you girls would like help, you must come inside and sit.”

“I'm not allowed in anyone's house,” Lillian said, looking scared as a rabbit in a trap.

Bessie spun around. “You didn't tell me that you couldn't go in.”

“I'll wait out here,” Lillian said, backing up and taking a tiny hop to avoid stepping in the white powder.

Miss Flo looked down at the powder. “It all right. Miss Flo will discuss this matter with Miss Bessie, alone.”

Bessie was frozen with terror. It had not occurred to her that she might be left alone in the house with Miss Flo. Tiny beads of sweat trickled down Bessie's forehead and under her arms. But she knew she would have to go inside if she wanted Miss Flo's help.

“You're not going to just stand there now, are you?” Miss Flo said. “Come in and rest your legs.”

A vision of the one-legged man popped into Bessie's mind. She reached down and felt her leg.

“Your leg hurting you, child?” Miss Flo asked.

Bessie shook her head. Why did she bring attention to her leg?

Miss Flo eyed Bessie. “I take a look at your leg for you.”

Bessie's heart raced. Maybe involving Miss Flo was a bad idea.

“Come on now,” Miss Flo said, gripping Bessie's hand and pulling her into the room. She closed the door.

Bessie wanted to run back out and not stop until she reached Burlington. But instead, she stood quiet and still as a possum. The room behind Miss Flo was filled with bright colors. The rug on the floor was orange, navy blue, and red. There were splashes of red all over the room. Miss Flo was barefoot.

“You a smart girl. Come, sit, me child,” Miss Flo said, pointing Bessie to a beautiful, squash-colored stuffed chair. “Tell me, what the problem? You look worried as a snake in a mongoose's hut.”

Bessie sat down, wringing her hands. What could she say? This woman was a stranger to her. She couldn't tell her about Papa. Bessie felt tears streaming down her face. She wiped them off with the back of her hand. She stood up.

“Please, sit. Miss Flo help you with your burden. You hurting, but, I assure you, things not as they seem.”

Bessie cleared her throat. She fingered her Memaw necklace. Bessie knew, even though her mind felt like a jumble of knitting yarn, that she had to get help for her family. She could not wait any longer. It had to be done. “I need to have a conjure put on a woman who is stealing my papa from my mama.”

“I see,” Miss Flo said. “You coming to Miss Flo for a conjure, now would you? It ain't an easy thing, you know. What you call a conjure is mean business, me little sister. Grown folks' business. No matter the age, truth the same. What you send out always what you get back. But for you, I give a conjure,” Miss Flo said, smiling, as she stood up. “Wait here.”

Bessie stopped breathing. Did she really want to get a conjure? Yes. Anything to get Papa and Mama back together.

Miss Flo came back with a package wrapped in cloth. “Here, take this. This the thing that you need. Something to take your mind off your worries. That why you come to Miss Flo, right?”

“Don't you need to know the woman's name?” Bessie asked.

“Miss Flo know what you need and the name she needs to know. Now, are you ready?”

Bessie nodded her head. Her hands shook as she held them out to receive the conjure. Then suddenly it occurred to Bessie that they had not talked about how much Miss Flo would charge. Bessie didn't have much money.

She jerked her hands back before touching the conjure. “How much does the conjure cost?”

“No problem, dear girl. Miss Flo happy to see a smile come over that beautiful face. No need for money, you make payment another way You just promise Miss Flo one thing and that payment enough.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Bessie said, positive now that she'd do anything to get her parents back together. Whatever she'd have to pay, she'd pay it. And suddenly she knew—she knew what Miss Flo wanted from her in exchange for the conjure. “Yes,” Bessie blurted out. “I promise you my leg.”

“Your leg?” Miss Flo said, her forehead furrowing. “What this talking 'bout your leg?”

“We—we saw the man. We didn't mean to, but we saw him.”

“What man you see?” Miss Flo asked, narrowing her eyes.

“The one whose leg you took,” Bessie whispered, as though somehow saying it softly made it less scary.

“Ha!” Miss Flo said, bursting into laughter. “You talking 'bout me Uncle John. You see him leave without his leg, huh? It over there. See?” Miss Flo pointed to a corner.

Bessie didn't want to look, so she shut her eyes. Then she took a deep breath, looked over in the corner, and gasped.

A leg with a sock on it stood in the corner. “That's his leg?” she asked, trembling.

“Yes. His artificial leg. Miss Flo a wood carver, take care of his leg when it don't fit good. Shave it a little,” Miss Flo said.

“It's a
wooden
leg?” Bessie felt foolish now. “I'm sorry. We thought that you'd taken that man's leg off.”

Miss Flo smiled. “No, Miss Flo won't be needing your leg, but me asking you this favor, for you to always remember: What be done in the dark, always come to the light. That all Miss Flo asking of you—for you to remember this.”

Bessie stood still. Her grandma used to say that.

“Now take what you calling a conjure and think 'bout the things you can do to make your heart feel better.” Miss Flo held the package out.

Bessie reached out her hands, and Miss Flo put the conjure in them.

“Let no one see this but you,” Miss Flo said. “This a perfect conjure for what you needing, me young bird of paradise.”

“How do I use it, Miss Flo?” Bessie asked.

“You will know how to use it,” Miss Flo assured her. She led Bessie to the door. “Watch your step on the way out. I spilled a sack of flour on me way from the grocer's, and haven't had time to sweep it up. Don't go getting it on you now.”

Bessie thanked Miss Flo as she went out the door.

“I see your little friend still waiting for you,” Miss Flo said. Lillian stood on the bottom step.

“You the next time, Miss Lillian,” Miss Flo said, and closed the door.

“Did you hear that?” Lillian said, her eyes tearing. “She's going to get me!”

“I don't think so. She's not gonna bother you, Lillian. I think maybe we were wrong about Miss Flo.”

“What happened?” Lillian asked. “What did you see? Did she threaten you? Was she mean? Tell me!”

Eddie came running down the sidewalk. “What h-happened? Y-y-you all right? L-l-let me see your leg.” He bent down to look.

“Eddie,” Bessie said, “we were wrong about her taking the man's leg. It was her uncle's wooden leg, and she was just working on it for him. You know, to make it fit better. She's a wood-carver.”

“Don't you see?” Lillian said. “She's just telling you that. She probably turned the man's leg into wood.”

Bessie hadn't thought of that. But she didn't think Miss Flo would do that.

“Let me see the conjure,” Lillian said.

“I can't,” Bessie said, sorry that she couldn't share it with Lillian. But it served Lillian right for letting Bessie go in there alone.

“Please,” Lillian begged.

“She told me not to, honest. I'm sorry, I just can't,” Bessie said.

“Will you show me later, then?” Lillian asked.

“Yes. After I use it. I'd better go home now,” Bessie said. “I need to do this right away.”

They started walking up the street. “What about the moon?” Lillian asked.

“What
about
the moon?” Bessie said.

“I have never heard of a conjure that you could perform in the daytime,” Lillian replied. “Didn't Miss Flo say anything about the full moon? It doesn't happen until Saturday.”

Miss Flo hadn't said anything about the night or the moon. But Bessie agreed that it made sense to do something as secret as a conjure at night. Maybe Miss Flo thought Bessie already knew this.

“I'll wait until tonight to do it,” Bessie said. “But I can't wait until Saturday. It might be too late. I want my mama and papa back together as soon as possible.” They walked up the stoop. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“And you'll show me the conjure then?” Lillian asked again.

“I'll show it to you after it works. Not before. Nothing can get in the way.”

Lillian nodded and opened her door. “You're right. I wouldn't want Miss Flo mad at you. She might turn you into a lizard for showing me.”

“Yes. And turn you into a lizard for looking,” Bessie added, smiling. But she really wished Lillian hadn't said that. She felt a shiver of coldness come over her as she and Eddie walked inside the house.

C
HAPTER
8

T
HE
C
ONJURE

Inside, Aunt Nellie and Aunt Esther were having a heated discussion in the parlor. Bessie wasn't sure what they were arguing about in whispered tones, but she suspected it might be about Papa.

Aunt Esther called to them to get washed up for supper.

“Bessie, can
I
see it?” Eddie asked when they had gone upstairs.

“No. I'm sorry, Eddie. Miss Flo really did tell me not to let anyone see it,” Bessie said, sliding the conjure under their bed. “Suppose, because I show you, it doesn't work. You want Mama and Papa to get back together, don't you?”

“Y-yes, I do, Bessie. I won't look,” Eddie said. “Bessie, you're the bravest p-p-person I know.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” Bessie said, hugging him. “I think you're brave, too. Now let's go eat supper before Aunt Esther gets suspicious.”

After supper, Bessie and Eddie played a few games of checkers. Eddie won each time because Bessie could not concentrate. Finally, Aunt Esther said it was time for them to go to bed.

Lying in bed, Bessie worried that the conjure might not work. She tried to put the thought from her mind. It had to work.

“B-B-Bessie?” Eddie whispered.

“What, Eddie?”

“What if the c-c-conjure don't work?” Eddie asked sleepily.

“Don't worry. It'll work,” Bessie said. “And if it doesn't, I'll go to that Dark Tower and make Miss Walker take me to Papa.”

Soon Eddie fell asleep, hugging his framed picture of Mama. But not Bessie. She lay awake thinking about how much she missed the stars in the sky of her old room. And Brownie. And Papa. And she recalled what she missed the most about Mama. She missed Mama combing her hair. Bessie fingered her Memaw necklace.

Finally the house was silent. Everyone was asleep. Bessie got up and removed the conjure from under the bed. She tiptoed into Papa's room so she wouldn't wake Eddie.

She sat on the floor in the dark with only a sliver of light coming from the three-quarter moon. The moon's shadows made the room feel creepy and unnatural. Bessie shivered in the darkness as she looked at the package. It was wrapped securely and tied with a string. Bessie set it on the floor and opened it. A feeling like tiny pinpricks danced on her skin.

Bessie stared at the contents of the package—three fancy fountain pens, an inkwell, and a blank notebook. These were the ingredients for a conjure?

Bessie noticed that there was a note card tucked inside the package. Maybe the instructions for the conjure were written down.

Bessie took a candle from the small table in the corner and lit it with a match. She jumped as the flame sparked to life. Bessie moved closer to the window so the moonlight could lend help. She read the note, frowning.

Dear Miss Bessie
,

Your Auntie Nell and me good girlfriends. She come here when the house over there too full of pain and hurt. Keep safe your heart and remember that
life
is the magic. Your Auntie say you like Langston Hughes. This for you to write your own poems, for poetry heals the heart
.