The Witch (20 page)

“Did she steal Brandy’s nerves?”

“No, she wants his hand for some potion because there’s a wart growing on it. And she lives in a house made of people’s bones, but not Momma’s.”

“Rosemary,” Mabel yelled. “Isn’t it bedtime for the children?”

“Before I go to bed Stephen has to tell me a Brandy and witch story.” Robin eagerly sought to make herself comfortable.

“I can’t do the witch’s voice like Daddy does. He sounds like a little old lady.”

“Come into my cottage, little boy.” Robin hammed the voice of a witch, delighting Stephen.

“No more about witches,” Mabel said. “Here, I’ll help you back into the wheelchair, sweetheart.”

“But I don’t want to go to bed. I want to hear about what witches do. What if I want to be a witch someday?” Robin teased.

“That’s enough! No one in this room is becoming a witch.”

The children sat stunned by Mabel’s loud voice.

“We were just playing, Grandma. Neither of us are really witches.”

Stephen sank back onto his pillows and wondered whether witches were bad people. Often witch stories would make him laugh, and Momma … He remembered how different Momma was now that she was dead. Maybe dying made her angry. He could see how that would upset a person.

The nurse took the flowers Rosemary carried into the hospital room.

“I’ll find a vase. There’s a chair near the bed. He’s been popular, and we’ve had to limit his guests, but since you’re family there’s no problem.”

“Thank you.” Rosemary worried her bottom lip. The smell of hospitals always made her nauseous. The silence of the room made her appreciate the noises coming from the hall. She felt awkward in the hospital garb required to visit burn patients.

Slowly she crossed the room, immediately seeing the metal chair by the bed. She glanced over at Jacob, who appeared to be asleep, and she wondered whether she should stay.

You’re here now. May as well sit and wait for him to wake up
.

When she sat, the chair scraped the floor, and Jacob’s eyes slowly opened.

“Sorry. I didn’t wake you?”

“Rosemary.” He closed his eyes again.

“I can leave if you want.”

“No. Did you fly in just to visit me?”

“I thought I’d be able to help Mother out. I’ve taken a four-month sabbatical and brought Robin with me. She and Stephen get on well, and I thought it might help him to have her around.”

“And I bet you all are staying at my house.”

“Do you mind? Stephen doesn’t want to leave.”

Jacob raised a hand and winced with pain.

“I told Mabel it isn’t safe there.”

“The firemen …”

“What the hell do the firemen know? They think I was drunk.”

“They didn’t find any alcohol in your blood. What were you doing?”

“The demons were partying.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Cathy. You knew she was a witch, didn’t you?”

Rosemary remained quiet.

“You know what Cathy was doing down in the basement, don’t you?”

“Stop, Jacob.”

“Have you been in the basement? Dare you go into the basement?”

“There’s nothing down there that will hurt anyone.”

“Look at me, Rosemary. I’m proof of the opposite.”

“Cathy wouldn’t have caused this to happen to you.”

“Why not?”

“She was a good person, Jacob. At times she could be moody, but she meant no harm to anyone. Practicing witchcraft was like a hobby. She had an interest in the supernatural but was always careful not to attract evil spirits.”

“Have you been in the basement?”

“Stephen doesn’t want anyone going into the basement. You can imagine between seeing his mother dead and seeing you …” Rosemary’s voice trailed off.

“If you care about your family, Rosemary, you’ll move everyone out of that house. I want my son safe. I don’t want him under his mother’s influence.”

“She’s dead, Jacob.”

“Not in that house.”

“Mom said you had been talking nonsense and thought it due to the medications they’ve been pumping into you.”

“I’ll get a lawyer, Rosemary, and have my son taken away from Mabel.”

“What are you going to tell the lawyer, that there are demons living in the house and one of them is my mother?”

“You and your mother are stupid. Cathy didn’t have to conjure you and Mabel up. Mabel was Cathy’s own nightmare, not mine. Although I do wonder whether she’ll become Stephen’s nightmare.”

“I’ll not let that happen.”

“I swear I’ll take custody away from Mabel if she doesn’t take Stephen out of that house.”

“No lawyer is going to pay any attention to your talk about ghosts and demons. If I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut, or Stephen may be taken away from you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Good advice.” Rosemary stood. “We’ll take good care of Stephen.”

“Ask him about how he talks to his mother.”

“It gives him comfort.”

Jacob slowly shook his head.

“Somehow she’s communicating with him. I didn’t believe Molly either. She’s dead, Rosemary.”

“Mother told me.”

“I beg you to believe me. Cathy got even for the affair Molly and I had.”

“That’s your guilt dredging up all kinds of fantasies. Why didn’t she kill Molly and injure you while she was alive?”

“Because the depression took over. Her pathetic poor-me act cost her her life.”

“Once dead she had a change of mind?”

“She blames us for her suicide.”

“If this is true, she’s gotten even and can finally rest.”

“She wants back.”

“To come back from the dead?”

“I’m sure of it. She can never rest where she’s destined to go.”

“You’re saying she’s going to hell. I thought you were agnostic, Jacob.”

“After what I’ve seen and been through, I don’t know what I am.”

“Critical patient who needs his sleep. If you’re good I might come back.”

Jacob smiled.

“What can I do from this bed other than call a lawyer?”

“Don’t. You’ll be making trouble for yourself. No one is going to believe little demons did this to you.”

“I can’t die, Rosemary.”

She sighed. The doctors had reminded her of Jacob’s critical condition. Death lingered close at hand to burn victims, especially to those with the extensive burns Jacob had.

“You’re not going to die.”

“No. I refuse to die. I’ll come home and take Stephen back.”

“My mother and I wouldn’t keep you from your son.”

“Cathy would.”

After dinner Rosemary took cleaning duty. Mom had cooked one of her special meals that no one else found special. However, no one told Mom since she had spent so many hours preparing the bland meal. Rosemary’s mother didn’t believe in spices, but she did believe the longer food was cooked the healthier it would be. No trichinosis would survive Mom’s cooking.

As she squeezed every last dish into the dishwasher she heard the children scream with joy when Mom allowed them to watch television for an hour. After that, Mom would require the children to have some cool-down time before bed. Rosemary remembered how she had dreaded Mom’s rules when she herself was a child.

“Can we take some ice cream into the living room while we’re watching TV?”

“ ‘May we,’ “ Grandmother corrected.

“You may and can,” Rosemary yelled to her daughter. She immediately went to the freezer before Grandma could get there. She hated watching her mother scoop ice cream out of the container as if she were weighing the exact amount. Rosemary doubled up on the scoops. Somehow her mother managed to remain silent.

The children rushed off to the living room, carrying their ice cream.

“I’m going up to my room to grade some papers,” Mabel said.

“Okay, Mom, but remember you’ll have to cool down before bed.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Rosemary.”

Mabel left the room with head held high.

It only took another fifteen minutes to finish up in the kitchen. Proudly she placed the kitchen towel on its rack and checked on the children, who were mesmerized by a cartoon program.

Now for the basement, she thought.

Halfway down the basement stairs Rosemary shivered. Her mother had lowered the temperature on the thermostat, not because she feared the furnace but because she feared the bills that would come in. Rosemary reminded her Jacob still paid the bills and Robin had to be kept warm, but Rosemary had lost the battle.

At the bottom of the stairs she spied the table covered with wax.

“You must have been really busy, Cathy,” she murmured.

The furnace and the back wall had singe marks from when Jacob had caught fire. Otherwise no evidence remained of the tragedy.

She looked for the wooden box she had given her sister for storing some of her utensils, finally finding it beneath a tarp. The wood had lost its sheen but looked the same as when she had given it to Cathy. One of the hinges might be a bit loose, but that could be repaired. She found nothing inside.

“I guess no one would notice if I took this back, Cath. You don’t have a need for it anymore.”

She thought she heard voices. Scratchy, thin voices that spoke too fast. When she heard hissing sounds, she turned toward the furnace, but it hadn’t come on.

A glass jar spilled to the floor and fragmented into pieces.

She realized she should clean it up in case someone else came downstairs, but her gut feel was to run.

“Jacob’s just spooking me.” Her voice almost sounded like an echo.

She placed the box on the table and searched for something to clean up the glass. While doing so, another object fell to the floor. This time it was a paint can. She picked it up and noticed the can had to be at least two-thirds full.

How did it fall off the shelf? Must have been put down in a precarious position. Near the edge
.

She decided to put the basement off-limits until she had the nerve to stay and clean up the mess.

Picking up the box, she thought she saw movement.

Hell, this house probably has mice like most old homes
.

She ran her sleeve across the top of the box, trying to regain some of the original sheen of the wood. Occupied with her task, she almost tripped over the first step. She grabbed hold of the banister, and the voices she heard seemed to get louder, as if little people were shouting at each other. Cautiously she began the climb. Midway she heard a whole shelf of jars crash to the floor. She ran the rest of the way until she found herself in the living room.

“Hi, Mom. They’re having a part two; can we watch for another hour?”

Startled by her daughter’s voice Rosemary almost dropped the box.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“Sure. And since I don’t see your grandma anywhere around, go right ahead and watch as much television as you want.”

“That doesn’t belong to you!” screeched Stephen.

Stephen ran toward his aunt and reached for the box but couldn’t quite touch it.

“I gave this box to your mother, and I’d like to have it back now that she doesn’t need it anymore.”

“The uglies need it,” he cried.

“The uglies? What are they?”

Stephen’s face looked like he would burst into tears.

“Stephen, who are the uglies?”

“Please, Aunt Rosemary, put the box back down in the cellar. Don’t make the uglies come look for it.”

“They won’t have far to go, since I planned on keeping it in my room.”

“The show’s starting, Stephen. Come on or you’ll miss it,” Robin called to him.

“Go ahead, Stephen, get back to your show and let me worry about what to do with the box.”

“No! You don’t belong in the basement, and the box doesn’t belong to you. Give it back!”

Stephen’s screaming surprised Rosemary. He did need counseling. She knew her mother had suggested the idea to Jacob.

“You have to calm down or Grandma will be coming down and poof, there will go your television show.”

“I don’t care. The box belongs in the cellar. Momma kept it there.”

Rosemary decided not to debate with the boy. He had been through enough.

“All right. I’ll put the box back under the tarp in the basement. But I would like to take it with me when I go. I thought Robin could use it for some of her art supplies.”

“She can’t have it,” Stephen yelled.

“Mom, I don’t want the stupid box. I just want to watch the show right now.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, Stephen. It was your mother’s box, and if you want to keep it, I shouldn’t take it. I’ll put it downstairs later, or would you like me to leave it in your room?”

“Now. Put it back in the basement now.” Stephen’s stern voice sounded too adult, which grated on Rosemary.

She had to take several deep breaths before she agreed.

“By the way, where’s the broom and a dustpan?”

“The kitchen cupboard,” he answered calmly.

“Go back to your show. I’m on my way to the basement.”

Rosemary made a detour to the kitchen. On her way out she caught sight of Stephen still standing at the living room threshold, waiting for her to return the box. She waved the broom and dustpan at him and headed back down the stairs.

A stillness settled over the basement. She found it difficult catching her breath, and the ceiling light seemed dimmer.

She could have sworn the bulb grew brighter when she slipped the box back under the tarp. The tarp almost moved of its own accord, carefully assisting Rosemary in covering the box.

“Shit, Cathy, what were you doing down here?”

A peace settled over the entire basement as she swept up the glass and tension flowed out of her body. As the last scoop of glass fell into the garbage bag, Rosemary’s arms grew weak. Her head ached and her knees buckled, letting her body fall to the floor.

“Leave it.” Stephen’s soft voice awakened her failing senses.

“Robin needs to potty,” he said from the top of the stairs.

Rosemary stood and nodded.

“Bring up the broom and dustpan,” he reminded her as she stood empty handed.

Afraid to bend over because of her dizziness, she asked Stephen to carry them up for her. He obeyed without giving any contradiction.