The cabin was exactly as I had thought it would be, and I felt as if I'd stepped out of the real world and into a fairy tale. In the corners, the shadows thickened into inky darkness, and as Maude turned and smiled at me, her face masked with shadows, she seemed full of mystery and menace.
"Yes, Soot, we have company tonight," Maude said. "Laura Adams is here. Shall I help her, my dear? Shall I do all I can in memory of Margaret?"
The crow nodded its head and shifted about. Once more he turned his yellow eyes toward me and stared, unblinking, as if he could read every thought.
Maude smiled and nodded. "Sit down, Laura Adams. And you too, Wanda." She led us to a semicircle of three chairs facing the huge stone fireplace. She chose the middle chair for herself, a tall armchair painted black and decorated with elaborate carvings of strange beasts. Wanda and I sat on either side of her, in smaller versions of the same chair.
For a moment all was still. The fire sputtered and crackled, shooting sparks up the chimney, and a gust of wind set the pines moaning outside the cabin. The air was heavy with the musky sweet smell of incense. As the firelight played on the chairs, the carved beasts seemed to stretch and blink and peer about the room, their eyes gleaming with life. I shivered, wishing I'd taken Wanda's advice and stayed home.
"And have you brought what I asked you to, Laura Adams?" Maude leaned toward me, her hand outstretched to receive the things I took from my pocket.
The old woman smiled as she looked at the photograph. "How happy your parents look, how young and healthy. Were you at the ocean?"
I nodded. "It was last year. Before Daddy left." I stared at the picture wishing my parents hadn't posed especially for the picture, wishing they really were happy together, wishing the photograph were true.
"And this is your aunt's brush? What a fine artist she must be, what pleasure painting must give her." Putting the brush aside, Maude examined the little car. "And this must belong to Jason." She smiled at me and nodded her head. "You have done well, Laura, very
well. These things will make my job very easy. You cannot imagine how grateful I am to you for giving me this opportunity to help Margaret's beloved ones."
Getting up from her chair, Maude bent over a cauldron hanging above the fire. She picked up a ladle and began stirring the contents of the cauldron. As sweet fumes arose from the pot, Wanda and I stood up to watch. I had trouble concentrating on what Maude was doing, but I thought I saw her pass the things I'd given her back and forth through the flames, murmuring softly to herself.
Leaning forward, I saw the photograph slowly curl and turn black at the corners. The smiling faces shrivelled and turned old and ugly. The paint on Jason's car bubbled, the hairs on the brush burned, but before everything crumbled into ashes, Maude put the charred remains into a small box and closed the lid. She wrapped the box round and round with fine threads, still chanting and gesturing.
The smoke from the cauldron grew denser, swirling around me like green fog and making it impossible for me to see anything clearly. I started feeling dizzy and light-headed, the shadows in the corners swayed, the room spun, and I felt as if I were about to fall. Terrified, I reached out for Wanda's hand, but grabbed Maude's hand instead.
"Now, now, my dear, it's quite all right." Maude gripped my hand tightly, chilling me to the bone. "In a moment the air will clear and you'll feel fine."
As Maude spoke, the smoke thinned and trailed up the chimney, leaving a sweet aroma behind. I stared at Wanda, noticing that Maude held her hand too. "Is that all?" I whispered, hoping that we were free to leave.
"In such a hurry to rush off and leave me?" Maude smiled at me, her eyes reflecting the fire. "My, my, Laura Adams, you make it very clear that you come to me for business only, not for friendship." She chuckled and released my hand. "Yes, you may go now, both of you. By tomorrow night your parents will be here, united this time forever, Laura."
"Thank you," I whispered, still feeling dizzy from the fumes. "Thank you very much."
"Thank
you,
Laura Adams, for making something possible that I've dreamed about for years. Eh, Soot? Isn't it true that we've waited a long time, my lovely?"
The old woman looked up at the crow, who stirred on his perch and nodded his head. "You see? Soot knows how much this means to me. Soon you will know, too, Laura Adams."
I stared at her, no longer sure what she was talking about, and Wanda gave me a nudge toward the door.
"Be sure and give Grace Randall my love," Maude called as we stepped outside. "Tell her she should have told you about me and Margaret. Tell her she has only herself to blame, my dear."
Before I could ask what she meant by that, Maude, still chuckling, closed the door, leaving Wanda and me on the porch.
"Come on, Laura, let's get out of here!" Without looking to see if I were following, Wanda leaped off the porch and ran across the clearing.
When I woke up in the morning, Aunt Grace was leaning over the bed, shaking my shoulder, her face worried. Confused by dreams and Maude's words, I stared at her. "Are they here already?" I asked.
"It's Jason. He's very sick, Laura. I've called Doctor Benson and I thought I'd get you up before he comes." Aunt Grace looked at Wanda as if she'd forgotten who she was, but Wanda went on sleeping peacefully despite the sun shining in her eyes.
"What's wrong with Jason?" I slid out of bed, trying not to disturb Wanda.
"I don't know. He woke up early complaining that his head hurt. I took his temperature and it was over a hundred and three."
"Is that high?"
Aunt Grace nodded. "I hate to send Wanda home without any breakfast, but Doctor Benson will be here any minute. Do you think you could fix something for yourselves?"
"Sure. We can just have cereal and toast or something. You know me. I never eat breakfast anyway." I
saw Wanda open one eye and look around the room. "Come on, Wanda, time to get up."
I tweaked at the covers, then looked back at Aunt Grace. "Don't worry about Jason. He gets sick all the time to get attention. Do you know he's been sick on every birthday I've had since he was born? And on every vacation too. The last time we went to Ocean City, he burst his eardrum and we had to take him to the emergency room."
Aunt Grace shook her head. "I don't think anyone could have a fever that high on purpose, Laura." She smiled at Wanda, who was now sitting up, looking totally confused. Wanda's hair stuck up in spikes all over her head and her cheek had a long crease mark on it from her pillow. "Jason's sick, Wanda. I'm expecting Doctor Benson soon, so I'll leave you two to get dressed."
We were sitting at the kitchen table eating toast and applesauce when Doctor Benson arrived. We heard him say a few words to Aunt Grace in the hall before going upstairs. Overhead his footsteps were loud as he walked around in Jason's room.
"He doesn't usually come to people's houses," Wanda said. "Not unless they got something really wrong with them."
"Maybe he likes Aunt Grace." I toyed with my toast and giggled. "Maybe she's his girlfriend."
Wanda shook her head, her face serious. "Aren't you worried about your brother?"
"I told you he makes himself sick on purpose." I picked up Aunt Grace's cat. "Are you hungry, Thomas? Do you want some applesauce, Mister KittyCat?" Thomas pulled away from my bowl and tried to leap
out of my arms. "I bet Jason got Aunt Grace so distracted she forgot to feed you."
Letting the cat go, I looked at Wanda. She was just sitting there, staring at me as if I were some kind of a monster. We were both very aware of the footsteps overhead, of the low murmur of voices, of Jason's absence. Despite what I'd just said, I was worried about my brother. Suppose he was really sick?
Wanda got up and carried her dishes to the sink. "Maybe I should get on home," she said, but before she'd finished rinsing them, Doctor Benson came downstairs. Paying no attention to either one of us, he picked up the telephone receiver and started dialing.
"Yes, Doctor Benson here," he said. "Have you got a room available in Isolation?"
There was a pause. I stared at the doctor, my heart beating quicker. "Good," he said. "I'll be there in about half an hour with a child. Looks like meningitis, so get ready for a spinal tap." There was another pause. "Jason Adams. Five years old." Pause. "Fine. See you soon."
Hanging up the phone, he looked at me for the first time. "I'm taking your brother to the hospital." He gave me what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile. "He'll be all right, don't worry. I'll take good care of him."
Before I could say a word, Aunt Grace appeared in the doorway with Jason in her arms. His face was flushed scarlet and he stared at me as if he'd never seen me before.
"Mommy," Jason whimpered. "Daddy."
"Laura, we have to leave right now. Jason needs immediate care. I'm going to phone your mother and father from the hospital, so please stay here in case they call. I'll call you as soon as we get Jason settled."
"Everything will be all right." Doctor Benson patted me on the shoulder and followed Aunt Grace outside.
"Mommy, Daddy, Mommy, Daddy," Jason cried. "It hurts, it hurts."
Wanda and I went outside too and watched them get into Doctor Benson's car. Wordlessly we watched the big Buick until it rounded a curve in the road and disappeared. It seemed very quiet. A bird sang in the woods across the road, a breeze ruffled the leaves of the maple tree, and a cricket cheeped under the porch.
"Is he going to be okay?" Wanda stared at me, her eyes full of worry.
"I don't know." I felt weak and trembly and dangerously close to throwing up my breakfast. "He wasn't faking," I said, feeling my eyes fill with tears. "He wasn't faking at all, and I didn't even go in to see him before the doctor came. Suppose he dies and I didn't even say good-bye to him?"
Wanda touched my arm gently. "He'll be okay, Laura. I just know it. Doctor Benson's a wonderful doctor, just like the ones on 'General Hospital,' Annabelle says."
I sat down on the steps and Thomas, hungry for breakfast, rubbed up against me, purring like a little motorboat. Nearby, Wanda leaned against the porch railing, examining the mosquito bites on her arms.
"You want me to stay till your aunt comes back?" Wanda asked.
I nodded. I didn't want to be by myself.
After a long time, the phone rang and I ran to answer it, hoping it was Mom or Dad. I was disappointed to
hear Aunt Grace's voice and I braced myself for bad news.
"They aren't sure what's wrong with him, Laura. It looks like meningitis but so far the test are inconclusive." Aunt Grace sounded so worried that I started shaking. "I've called your parents and they should be here in about three hours or so. Can you get along all right till then? I don't want to leave Jason until your parents arrive."
"Is he worse?" I whispered.
"No. He's about the same. He just keeps calling for your mother and father." Aunt Grace's voice trailed off and I heard her blow her nose.
"He won't die, will he?"
"Of course not, Laura. Don't think such things." Aunt Grace's voice sounded funny, as if she didn't really believe what she was saying. "He's a fine healthy little boy. Yesterday there wasn't a thing wrong with him. He's going to be all right, Laura, I'm sure of it."
If she was so sure of it, why did she have to keep saying it? After I said good-bye, I went back into the living room and sat down on the couch next to Wanda.
"Is he better?" Wanda asked.
I shook my head. "If anyone dies, it should be me," I said. "I'm the mean one, I deserve it, not Jason."
"That's dumb." Wanda frowned at me. "Nobody deserves to die."
"You don't think this happened because of going to see Maude, do you?" I asked Wanda.
"How could Maude make Jason sick? She hasn't been anywhere near him." Wanda looked puzzled.
"Witches can put hexes on people," I said. "They've got all kinds of ways to do it."
"They only do that to people they got a grudge against. Maude hasn't any reason to harm Jason. She was your grandmother's friend. You heard her say so yourself, Laura."
"But she said my mother and father would be here tonight and they're on their way right now. They wouldn't be coming if Jason weren't sick."
Wanda shook her head. "Eddie came back to Charlene and there wasn't anybody sick. Both Charlene and Tanya Marie was as healthy as cows. No, him getting sick is just a coincidence."
"In Salem they wouldn't have thought so. They'd have arrested Maude and put her on trial and probably burned her at the stake."
"Well, nobody does things like that anymore." Wanda folded her arms across her chest and stretched out her long, skinny legs.
I knew Wanda well enough to know she didn't want to talk about Maude, so I didn't say anything. I just sat there worrying about Jason and, at the same time, looking forward to seeking Mom and Dad. Who knows, I told myself, maybe this really would be the thing to bring my parents to their senses. Maybe Maude knew that making Jason a little bit sick was the only way to get them up here. As long as he wasn't in too much pain and got well fast once they got here, maybe it would all be for the best.
Late in the afternoon I heard a car drive up to the house. I jumped up and looked out the window. Aunt Grace was getting out of Daddy's car, but he wasn't driving. A woman I'd never seen before was sitting behind the steering wheel. Mystified, I ran outside to meet them, with Wanda following behind.
"Where's Daddy?" I asked Aunt Grace.
"He's still at the hospital, he and your mother both."
"Is Jason better?"
"I think seeing Andrea and George perked him up a little, but he's still very sick. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him." Aunt Grace shook her head and then turned to the woman standing beside her, who was smiling uncertainly at me. "Oh, Laura, this is Carol Carmack, your father's secretary."
I stared at Carol, taking in her perfectly made-up face, her long blonde hair feathered back professionally, her tight jeans, her pale pink T-shirt. She looked like a fashion model, the kind you see photographed on beautiful beaches in the Caribbean, riding a horse in the surf and smiling into the sunset. I hated her at first sight. Couldn't somebody ugly type Daddy's letters and answer his phone?