Gallows Hill (9 page)

"That's all?" Debbie asked in unconcealed disappointment. "For what this is costing, I expected something sensational. You haven't told me anything you couldn't have learned just from going to the same school with me. That's not what I came for."

"What did you come for?" Sarah asked, taken by surprise.

"To try you out," Debbie said. "I know you're a fake, but there are people around here who believe in this crap. They're even saying you can do it—I mean, really do it. I came here to prove you're a con. You're not able to tell people anything that you couldn't have picked up just from hanging out in the school rest room."

She was right, of course. But the challenging attitude irritated Sarah. After all, this was just a game, and everyone knew it; it wasn't as if she were actually supposed to perform magic. She found herself feeling sorry for Leanne Bush, who was threatened by the prospect of losing her beloved Bucky to such an obnoxious competitor.

"Wait," Sarah said impulsively. "I do see something else. Another woman steps into this picture. She's a little bit older than you are, but"—she took a stab at this one—"she looks a bit like you. I think you may be related. There are similarities, but she has something... more to offer. There is one particular man, very muscular and handsome, who once was looking at you and now turns to look at her. The images are starting to fade now.... I cannot continue...."

"You're making that up," Debbie said belligerently. "You don't see anything."

The crazy thing was, though, that suddenly Sarah did see something. She saw a man and a girl entwined in each other's arms. And she saw where they were. For a moment the shadows lifted and there was a very clear image of the girl, who did look a little like Debbie, and the man, who was turned away from her, so that Sarah could not get a good view of him, standing in a building that appeared to be a bus terminal. Both were wearing backpacks, and next to them stood two suitcases.

"I see your sister with a man named Buzz Tyson," Sarah said. "They're kissing, and I think they're at a bus station."

"What a witch you are!" Debbie exploded. She leaped to her feet, deliberately kicked over her chair, and stalked out of the room in a fury.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rumor has it that Madam Zoltanne's powers extend beyond Halloween," Charlie commented as Sarah scrambled into his station wagon on Monday morning. He was wearing a worn plaid jacket with patches at the elbows.

"How did you hear that?" Sarah asked in astonishment. She had not seen Charlie since Friday, as his mother had driven the paper route on the weekend.

"Word gets around," Charlie said as they drove south on Windsor. "I stopped by the Burger Barn on Saturday, and Danny Adams was there spouting his mouth off at the next table. He was telling his friends how his girlfriend wasn't with him because—in capital letters—SHE'S A VEGETARIAN. Wouldn't darken the door of a place that cooks dead animals. And then he jumped from there to how he and Jennifer got their fortunes told and how Jennifer got all uptight about the stuff you knew about her that you had no way of knowing. What's the deal? Have you opened your own business?"

"Well, sort of," Sarah said. "It's just for kicks. It was Eric's idea."

"It would be," Charlie said with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Eric pulls stunts like that. He does it to spite his rather, the head of the prestigious law firm of Garrote, Vulture, and Chapstick."

"They can't be called that!" Sarah exclaimed incredulously.

"I'm kidding," Charlie said. "Haven't you figured out by this time that I do a lot of that? Fat people have to, it's part of our image. The law firm is Garrett, Venture, and Chapman. Eric's been primed to step into it since he was in preschool. Why else would he run for every school office there is? It's tough to get into an Ivy League college if you're a graduate of Pine Crest High. You've got to stand out from the herd."

"That doesn't explain why he'd come up with an offbeat money-making scheme."

"That's the other side of him." Charlie slowed the car so that she could toss a paper onto a lawn. "You must have done a great job with your mumbo jumbo. Danny sounded pretty shook up."

"Almost everything I told Danny was what Jennifer leaked to me," Sarah said. "She probably doesn't realize how much she told me."

"Who else did you read for?" Charlie asked her.

"Debbie Rice," Sarah said, sending the paper sailing directly into a picket fence. "I'm sorry. That was a bad throw. Shall we stop so that I can go get it?"

"There's no time, they'll just have to live with it," Charlie said. And then, with more concern, "You did a reading for Debbie?"

"Yes," Sarah said. "She came in with a chip on her shoulder, and when she left, she called me a witch."

"Why would she say that?"

"Well, I was dressed like one, for one thing."

"You weren't dressed like a witch at the carnival."

"This was a different costume," Sarah told him. "Actually, though, I don't think it was the costume she was referring to. She meant it as an insult. I told her something she didn't want to hear."

Charlie slowed, and she pitched another paper. This throw was an improvement over the last one; the paper landed on the lawn.

"You could be causing some problems for yourself," Charlie said.

"How so?"

"Pine Crest is a conservative town."

"So Ted's told us," Sarah said. "It seems to me it's a hypocritical sort of conservatism."

"You got that right. Take that sweet bunch of cheerleaders, for instance, with the minister's daughter at their head. They're all of them in the church youth group and sing in the choir, and butter wouldn't melt in their mouths when they're around adults. But do you know where they hold their innocent little soft-drink-and-cookie get-togethers? At the party spot up on the hill where the football guys throw keggers after the games. From what I hear, a lot of stuff goes on up there that you'd think the school would catch on to. But Mr. Prue's a real expert at looking the other way."

"I hadn't heard about those, but I do know that Ted is paying rent on an apartment he doesn't stay in just to keep up appearances," Sarah said. "I can't believe his friends and neighbors are that gullible. Everybody must know he's actually living at our house."

"They may not want to know that."

"What do you mean?"

"If they knew it, they'd have to do something about it," Charlie said. "For one thing, Mr. Thompson would lose his job. Nobody wants that. What they want is for him to repent and go back to his wife, which he usually does after a month or so. You're right when you say it's a hypocritical sort of conservatism. But it's in keeping with the standards of the town." He changed the subject abruptly. "You missed that last house."

"Are we going back for it?"

"Of course we're going back for it. Hanging a paper on the fence is one thing, missing a house is another."

"I wouldn't have missed it if we hadn't been talking so much," Sarah said irritably. "I don't see anything so terrible about telling a few fortunes. People know when they come that it's just entertainment."

"All I said was be careful," Charlie said. "You could be headed for trouble, especially if you tell fortunes wearing a witch costume. This town isn't just conservative, it's downright dangerous."

"I happen to think you're being paranoid."

"I've got reason to think I'm not, but okay, I'll keep my mouth shut."

They completed the route with little further conversation, and Charlie dropped her off at her house. As she got out of the car, Sarah was tempted to apologize for snapping at him—after all, he did seem to be sincerely concerned about her—but decided to let it go. It was bad enough to have Ted ordering her around without having Charlie start in on it too.

When she entered the kitchen, she found Rosemary and Ted seated at the kitchen table drinking coffee and working on a package of Sara Lee breakfast rolls.

"So, how's the papergirl?" Ted asked her in a friendly manner.

"Fine," Sarah said coolly, and then, addressing herself to her mother, "How's the arm this morning?"

"Much less painful," Rosemary told her. "I have an appointment to go to the doctor this afternoon to get the dressing changed."

"I'll take you," Sarah said.

"That won't be necessary," Rosemary said. "Ted's planning to do it. He's going to come home right after school to drive me."

"Which means I need to get there a little bit early to take care of some paperwork," Ted said, shoving back his chair and getting up from the table.

"I'd just as soon get there early too," Sarah said maliciously. "How about giving me a ride?" She knew what the answer would be, but she wanted to make him say it.

"I don't think that would be too wise," Ted responded a bit awkwardly. "It might start tongues wagging, if you know what I mean. There's no sense getting the gossip mills churning."

"Soon enough," Rosemary said lightly. "As soon as we're married."

"And when exactly is that going to happen?" Sarah asked. "Are you any nearer to getting a divorce, Ted?"

"It's in the works," Ted said curtly as he left the kitchen. A moment later they heard the front door close much harder than usual with a sound that Sarah might almost have termed a slam.

"You mustn't embarrass him like that, Sarah," Rosemary said. "He's doing his best to speed things up. It's Sheik who's making problems."

"What sort of problems?" Sarah asked. "Is it a matter of support money?"

"That and everything else she can think of," Rosemary said. "It's the dog-in-the-manger syndrome. She and Ted weren't happy together, but she can't stand the thought of losing him to somebody else."

"Eric says they've split up before," Sarah told her mother. "I don't understand how people can do that. I mean, I'd think you'd either want to be married or you wouldn't."

"It's not that simple," Rosemary said. "Ted and Sheila got married right out of high school, and Sheila worked two jobs to put him through college, so he's always felt indebted to her. That's why he didn't encourage her to go back to work full-time after the kids were school-age; he felt it was his turn to be the breadwinner. But somehow she couldn't accept that."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked.

"They just grew in different directions. That can happen when people marry too young. Ted says Sheila suffers from depression, and she also has a drinking problem, which gets worse whenever she and Ted have an argument. Ted would have ended things long ago if it wasn't for the children. You know how devoted he is to Kyra and Brian. And of course their minister counsels against divorce."

"Since when docs Ted go to church?" Sarah asked in surprise. Although she and Rosemary were not members of a particular denomination, they had made it a practice to attend services at a number of different churches in an effort to learn all they could about a variety of religions.

"He went to church when he lived with Sheila," Rosemary said. "They had Bible study on Wednesdays, and the kids are in the youth choir. The church seems to be the center of most social activity here."

"I've never heard Ted suggest our going," Sarah said.

"He feels it would be too awkward under the circumstances. Everybody belongs to the Pine Crest Community Church, so we'd be faced with all the people who are friends of Sheila's. After Ted and I are married and the dust has had a chance to settle..."

"You make it sound like it's the only church in Pine Crest," Sarah said.

"It is," Rosemary said. "There is only one church in Pine Crest."

"There's nothing else—not even a Catholic church or synagogue?"

"We're talking small town here, honey," Rosemary said. "There aren't any Jews in Pine Crest, and what few Catholics there are attend the Catholic church over in Bridleville."

"But that's thirty miles away! Pine Crest sounds like Salem Village in the seventeenth century!"

"There is only one church," Rosemary repeated. "It services the town. Don't ask me why, I don't know, that's just how it is. The Reverend Morris is the only minister in Pine Crest, and Sheila Thompson works part-time as church secretary. So, as you can imagine, Sheila has the support of the parishioners, and Ted doesn't want to alienate the community. That's why he wants Sheila to be the one to initiate divorce proceedings, and he's sure she will if he gives her some time to think it over. In the meantime he and I have a wonderful relationship. I only wish you'd accept that and try to be happy here."

"But, Rosemary, how can you say—?"

"Let's drop it, okay, Sarah?" Her mother cut her off in midsentence. "You'd better get a move on. The only reason we agreed to your doing this paper route was because you assured us it wouldn't make you late for school."

Where had her true mother gone? Sarah wondered miserably. The woman across the table from her, who used to be her best friend—an interesting, energetic woman with offbeat viewpoints, always eager to explore all angles of every situation—was sounding more and more like a female version of Ted Thompson every time she opened her mouth. And, to make it worse, Rosemary was right, it was hard to do the route and then make it to school on time, especially if she stopped long enough to eat breakfast. If she had known that Eric was going to suggest an easier way to earn money, she never would have committed to throwing papers for Charlie. But she had agreed to do it, and she couldn't let him down. It was bad enough to be an overweight paperboy called Lard Ass, but worse by far to be an overweight paperboy who had lost his paper route.