The Witch (31 page)

“Maybe he’s not really hurt.” Stephen moved in closer to the crow, and when he did the bird suddenly became very still. There didn’t appear to be any sign of life.

Rosemary quickly threw one of the bath towels over the crow. Still no movement.

“What are you going to do with him, Aunt Rosemary?”

“I don’t know whether to throw it in the trash or take it to the hospital.”

“The same place where they took Daddy?”

“No. That hospital is only for humans. There’s another hospital not far from here that’s for animals.”

“I think maybe we should leave him there under the towel.”

“Don’t you want to help it if it’s hurt?”

Stephen shook his head. “It’s not hurt. It’s faking.”

The boy had been right before
.

Robin knocked on the windowpane. She waited for them to pick up the bird.
Is it hurt? she mouthed
.

“I’ll tell her it’s dead; then no one has to pick it up,” Stephen said.

“She’ll want to bury it. She always does.”

“We can have a private ceremony and tell her she wasn’t invited.”

“Robin will believe that one, all right. Step aside and give me some room.”

Rosemary held up the second bath towel, a bright periwinkle with tiny daisies decorating one end. She sighed, took a deep breath, and bent over to wrap up the bird. Surprised by the weight, she almost dropped it.

“Now what?” Stephen asked.

“Exactly. That’s my question. I guess I could put it into the car and drive it over to the hospital.”

The bird didn’t move. She thought about digging a hole and simply dropping the crow in and covering it with as much dirt as she could shovel. Holding the bird at arm’s length, she turned to the window and smiled at her daughter, whose green eyes couldn’t have been any larger. Robin was such a sucker for animals.

A flurry of activity inside the towels made her let go of the bundle. The crow screeched out from under the cover and attacked her face, clawing at her cheeks and pecking around her eyes, until finally its beak did a dead aim into her right eye. Her screams matched the deadly caws of the crow as it swept out of Stephen’s reach and up into the sky.

“Momma,” yelled Robin, gliding down the path on which her mother stood, the towels wrapped now around her mother’s legs. She could feel the blood covering her hands but couldn’t see. Stephen had obviously gone for the neighbors. She heard his voice calling out for help. She fell to her knees and wept as Robin wrapped her arms around her mother.

“You do have to do something about your mother,” Robin said, sitting across from Stephen on Grannie Smith’s porch. “You can’t let her continue hurting people. Even if it isn’t your mother but a demon you have to stop it. And I’ll help you.”

Stephen stared over at his former house. Most of the lights were on, and the dogs lay in front of the house enjoying the light breeze that rustled their fur. He stood and walked to the very edge of the porch for a better view. One of the dogs flexed its legs as if dreaming about chasing a rabbit. The other dog stared back at Stephen.

“Hello,” Stephen said.

The dog ears perked up, and when Stephen repeated his greeting the dog stood.

“Come here, boy.”

The dog came immediately, giving a brief glance at Robin before setting its jaw on the boy’s thigh. Slowly, Stephen petted the dog.

“I wish you could talk. I have so many questions to ask.”

“He’s just a dog, Stephen. He can’t tell you who’s haunting the house.”

“He could if he could speak. He knows me because of my mother.”

“Are you telling me she sent him over to you?”

“No. But he can sense who I am.”

“And what are you?” Robin asked, a chill touching her voice.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked Robin.

So much time passed that Stephen had given up on an answer until she moved her wheelchair closer to him.

“I’m afraid of what’s haunting you. You don’t mean any harm, but horrible things happen to people around you.”

“Maybe you should stay away from me.”

“No. Instead I’m going to pay attention to everything you say. I’ll not doubt you the way the grown-ups did.”

As he petted the dog it began to whimper.

“Is he hurt?” Robin asked.

“He’s trying to talk to me.” He looked over at Robin.

“Don’t look at me. Momma started teaching me French, not dog talk.”

“Let’s bring the dog home.”

“What? He lives right next door.”

“But Robin, we can say he joined us on the porch and we wanted to be sure he belonged to someone.”

“Why not?” Robin carefully maneuvered her wheelchair down the ramp, leading the way.

Stephen rang his old doorbell while holding onto the dog’s collar. The other dog merely looked at them quizzically and went back to sleep.

“Oh, hello. I almost missed you down there.”

“Hi. Robin and I are staying with Grannie Smith.” He pointed toward the house next door. “And we were sitting on the porch. And this dog came up on the porch to sit with us. But we’re not sure whether he has a home. Is he your dog?”

“Yes. He’s usually very good, never wanders off the property. He must be getting a bit jealous of our granddaughter. He’s used to being fussed over. I hope he didn’t bother either of you.”

“No. I used to live here.”

“In this house?”

Stephen nodded.

“We moved to Austin to live with Robin’s mother.”

“You must be the Zaira child. Your father had some sort of accident. Listen, do you both want to come in and have some soda or ice cream?”

“Ice cream would be great,” Robin shouted out.

“I’ll get my husband to help you up the steps.”

Inside the children couldn’t recognize the place. The pale walls were now painted in deep hues, and instead of shades the windows now had velvet curtains.

A piercing shriek came from down the hall.

Startled, the woman excused herself and went to check on the baby.

“I think she misses her parents. She’s only a few months old. A terrible time to leave a child.” The lady’s husband shook his head and invited the children into the living room.

“My wife said you both used to live here.”

“Only me,” answered Stephen. “Robin lived in Austin and she still does, but now Dad and I live there too.”

“I guess you miss your friends.”

“Sometimes, but I got Robin.” He listened as the woman helplessly tried to quiet the baby.

“We thought this would be a joy having our granddaughter around, but it’s not such an easy job.”

“Can I see the baby? “

The man led the children to the back room, which had become a nursery. The woman sat in a pale pink rocking chair holding the baby close to her breast while singing an old lullaby Stephen recognized.

“My momma sang that to me,” Stephen said. “Is it a favorite song of yours too?”

“Actually, I hardly ever sang to my own children. I don’t know how this tune popped into my head, but it seems to soothe her down after a while.”

The baby held her hands in tight little fists, her beet-red face soaked in tears.

“Stephen, you’re back.”

He looked to see whether anyone else had heard his mother’s voice, but the adults and Robin kept cooing over the baby.

“Will you stay with me this time and not run away? That was very bad of you.”

Embraced by his mother’s coldness he shivered.

“Take me out of this house, Stephen. There’s nothing left of our former lives here. Take me to your new home.”

“No!”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Are you all right?” Robin asked. “We should really head back to Grannie Smith’s before she notices we’re missing.”

“Of course. I’ll walk the children back to their house, dear. Will only be a few minutes.”

The husband helped Robin back down the front steps and stayed with them until they climbed the porch stairs.

“Thank you, we’re okay here. Grannie Smith said we could sit on the porch until bedtime.”

The husband nodded and headed back to his own home.

“What happened, Stephen? Why did you yell out like that?”

“She’s still there, Robin. She spoke to me. She wants me to take her back to your house.”

“What are we going to do? That poor baby screamed so loud. Your mother must be hurting her. We can’t let that happen, but you certainly can’t take her back to Austin.”

Stephen’s shoulders drooped. It would be so much easier if he didn’t believe the woman really was his mother. He didn’t want to cause her to suffer, and she sounded so sad.

He walked to the edge of the porch and looked up at his old bedroom window. Momma stood there, her hands pressed against the windowpane, her hair a riot of smoky white; her flesh shone with the paleness of death, and her frightened features pleaded for his help.

In Grannie Smith’s guest room Stephen kept his curtains open and the window ajar. Momma stood across from him in his old bedroom window, staring. Not saying a word and not trying to communicate with her hands, she simply stared at her son.

“Momma, you hurt me so badly. Daddy has trouble moving around. He can’t play rough with me anymore. I have to be careful when I touch him. Grandma’s gone. Molly’s dead. Aunt Rosemary’s in the hospital, and Robin was so scared that she’d loose her momma. Why do so many people have to suffer?”

He reached under his pillow and pulled out the wooden goddess.

“I still have the fat lady. You said she’s very important. She’s not mean like the uglies, but she hasn’t told me what to do about you.” He fingered the figure, rubbing the swollen belly gently as if he had an Aladdin’s Lamp. The belly shined under the dim nightlight. He looked closely at the face of the goddess but it seemed amorphous, the features blurred purposefully by the hand that created the figure. The longer he looked at the face, the more different forms it took. Was she young? Yes, she had smooth skin. Was she old? Yes, her pinprick eyes held wisdom. Was she gentle? The softness of her brow revealed her love and patience. Was she strong? Yes, her firm jaw jutted out in defiance.

“Please, naked lady, tell me what to do. Don’t let me make a mistake and cause others to be hurt.” He rested his head on the pillow and lay the naked lady next to him. She’d watch over him and keep his momma away.

Brandy stood outside the witch’s house. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten there. How had he escaped the cage? Had the lady come back? Did the troll change his mind and save Brandy? Brandy wished he could remember, for he didn’t like empty space inside his brain
.

The cottage looked the same. Snakes still wiggled and sunned themselves on the path leading to the front door. The knocker in the shape of garlic on the door tempted him to knock. But why would he? He was free. This is what he wanted. He looked down at his clothes and saw that every stitch he had arrived in was back on his body. His shoes looked polished. His shirt pressed. His pants were even clean
.

He should run away, he thought. Far away and never have to see that old witch ever again
.

The door to the cottage swung open, but no one stood in the doorway. He moved forward to peek inside
.

The cottage was still. No ticking clocks, no clanking pipes, no patter of the witch’s big feet
.

He realized he didn’t know her name and doubted he really wanted to
.

“She’s found herself another.”

Brandy spun around to stare at the troll
.

“She mourned a little bit for you but then moved on, as you should do.”

“Who has taken my place?”

“It doesn’t matter,” replied the troll. “Go home, Brandy.”

“If I go home, will she follow me?”

“She never travels far from this cottage.”

“Then she won’t look for me?”

The troll shook his shaggy head
.

“What will happen to the person in the cage?”

“She’ll probably boil her and serve her for dinner.”

Shocked, Brandy didn’t know which way to turn
.

“I wouldn’t go back into the cottage if I were you. I’d go far, far away.”

“But I can’t abandon the person in the cage.”

“Why not?” The troll looked very perplexed
.

“Because I should be in the cage instead. It isn’t fair for someone else to suffer.”

“Do you think it fair that you should suffer?”

Brandy could see the logic to running far from the cottage. He liked standing outside under the sun, smelling the flowers, hearing birds chirp
.

“I can make a passage for you among the snakes,” the troll offered. “I’ll make sure you come to no harm. Down the road there’s a bus stop. It’s due in twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes? Then I must have at least a few minutes to say goodbye to the witch.”

“She’ll not let you go. If she finds you, it will be the end. There’ll be no second chance.” The troll spoke in a stern voice
.