Lavender-Green Magic (19 page)

“Then”—that was Grandma, speaking sharp and clear—“you'll have you some more streets with all them little houses what looks 'zactly alike, an' no trees nor nothin'—jus' all bare.”

“I guess so. There's more'n more folks as want to live out away from the cities. And they've got to go somewhere.”

“They don't live outta the cities,” Grandma countered. “No sirree, they jus' brings their old cities 'long with 'em when they moves. How long we got, Mr. Bill, 'afore these new city folks want to roust us out?”

“Can't tell, Mercy. It's gotta come up 'fore th' town meetin'. And that over-the-river crowd, they do a lot of talkin'. I jus' wanted to warn you straight off that there may be trouble waitin' right 'round the bend. Now me, personally, I don't want nothin' to do with this Reuther fellow. He talks big, but I want to see if his doin' comes up to his talkin'. Dimsdale place was a big fine house once. Pity that burned. Were it still standin' we could take it over for show, jus' like they did the old Pigot place, and these people what are fixing up the Elkins's house are plannin' on doin'. But nowadays, it seems like they just want to sweep away everything from the old days, was it good or bad, they don't care. Well, I'll be gettin' on. Thanks for th' snack, Mercy. That was right tasty raisin pie. Seems like you get more taste in your cookin' than most of the women 'round here who do a lot more boastin'.”

“That's right kind of you to say that, Mr. Bill.” Grandma did not sound happy when she answered, but more as if she were worried or upset.

“You got any ideas as to what they's goin' to say at the town meetin', Mr. Bill?” That was Grandpa.

“Only just what I've been hearin'. Lotta talkin' goin' on. There's some—Jim Hooker, and Ira Batchler, they listens when the new folks talk. 'Course Jim, he runs the garage and Ira's got the hardware. Them two, they are makin' money offen those allotment folks. Seems like them houses o' theirs, they always need a mite of fixin'. And you know that Ira and his boy, they go out on their own doin' a little carpentry here, a dab of plumbin' there. And the garage gets
about twice as much business now that the development is open. It ain't, I guess, that Ira and Jim are against keepin' things as they have been, they's just wantin' any pickin's they think might be comin'.

“As I see it the main trouble's that Mrs. Stanley Deevers, her and her bunch of know-it-alls from the other side of the river. She tried to push into the Ladies' Thimble Society over to the church and tell 'em how they needed to wake up and do something more up-to-date. Only, when Mrs. Pigot stood right up to her, she got miffed. Then it was the school board, and we heard a lotta talkin' as to how our school's so backward no young'un is like to get any education.” Holly heard a rich, hearty laugh follow that. “Was she ever caught with one foot in a mud-puddle when Dr. Peabody pulled out that record book of his and started to point out the number of scholarships and such our young'uns have been winning.

“Mrs. Deevers, she tried to say as how our school was so backward, that we didn't teach nothin' about livin' in this here today world. But she didn't get too far with that there foolishness. People is too proud of the school, and they got a little hot about her sayin' all that. So she calmed down a mite and we didn't hear her argyin' 'bout things for a spell. Then she turns up with this new idea—'Beautiful Sussex,' for the Tricentennial. And the trouble is, Lute, Mercy, there she's got ahold o' somethin' as don't bother people so. They ain't goin' to get their dander up defendin' no town dump from Mrs. Deevers. Then, with Mr. Reuther comin' in and hintin' as how he'd be right willin' to take it over and develop it—well, money talks, even though he's really plannin' to make
it into a lot of little tacky-lookin' houses as nobody but city folk, who can't see further than the end of their noses, is goin' to buy. But me, I got one darn good question I'm savin' up for town meetin' (that's comin' on November tenth): I'm goin' to rise right up and ask do they take away the Dimsdale dump for a development, but where then is they fixin' to put the trash next? Pitch it out alongside the roads, maybe? What kind of a beautifyin' kinda thing is that goin' to be? That's just what happened over to Norfolk—and that's what came of it, too. You'll hear me sayin' enough to make 'em think. If those dumb-between-the-ears fellers
do
think. We can give 'em a fight do we want to. Me, I'm goin' around right now tellin' it like it is to enough of the old-timers as can throw some weight around. I had to warn you, Lute, Mercy, but we ain't got to the fightin' part yet—and me, am I goin' to give 'em a whale of a fight!”

Holly heard the other door slam, and now she slipped fully into the warmth of the barn. Grandma was sitting at the table, her hands spread out on the top, and she was looking at Grandpa right over the tops of her glasses, which this time had nearly slipped off her nose though she did not seem to notice.

“Luther, whatever in the world can we do?” That voice did not sound like Grandma's at all, but was thin and wavery, like the voice of an old, old lady.

Grandpa was by the door, as if he had just seen their recent visitor out. “Do, Mercy?” He swung around and his voice was not thin and wavery at all, it was hard. “We gonna do jus' what Mr. Bill Noyes said—we're gonna fight!”

“But he said, an' he's right, nobody cares about a dump. That can be just anywhere—”

“Nobody cares 'bout a dump?” Grandpa was still fierce. “Mr. Correy—where's he gonna get his antique things? And Lem—he does a lot with his repaired stuff. And Mrs. Dale—the Scouts, they need the dump for their projects. Miss Sarah at the library, who'll see she gets all them old books? Twice now, ain't we found things as she said were the best she ever saw? That there journal of Seth Elkins as she shows around every time there's new people at the museum, who found that? You did, Mercy, right here at this dump!

“An' it ain't going to be all dump, neither. Ain't you an' me, Mercy, ain't we been workin' plantin' things an' tryin' back there”—Grandpa waved his arm energetically at the wall behind Holly without looking at her at all—”to make it look good again? There's all yore herbs an' such as you is known to have. Things like none of them garden-club ladies ever seen 'afore. Didn't they say so last year when Miss Sarah had you over to th' library to tell all 'bout 'em? No sir-ree, Mercy, I tells you plain they ain't gonna sweep us an' Dimsdale away so easy. Put up them little old houses as gets outta fix quick as a family moves in 'em an' try to spread out a little—”

Grandpa's face was flushed, and he shook his fist in the air, Holly thought, as if he dared one of the development houses to sprout up in the middle of the barn like one of the big mushrooms Holly had seen in the maze.

One of the big mushrooms. Holly gulped. What had Ha-gar promised? That she could teach Holly how to to make
wishes come true! She had done what Hagar had wanted. Now Hagar would have to keep her part of the bargain. Holly would wish, and that Mrs. Deevers, whoever she was, would stop meddling—

In the moment Holly forgot that she hated the dump. It was hers—or rather it belonged to Grandpa and Grandma, and she was living here. Now she felt as fierce as Grandpa looked. No one was going to take Dimsdale and run bulldozers all over it—cut down the maze—

Cut down the maze! But if that happened, how could she ever find Hagar again and claim her wishes? No, no bulldozers in the maze!

“When is the town meeting?” Holly asked.

Both Grandma and Grandpa gave a start and looked around as she came out of the shadows behind the last stall and walked toward the table.

“Where you come from, Holly?” Grandma frowned at her. “You been listenin' without us knowin'?”

“Yes. I heard that man talking.” Holly was too full of what might happen to notice Grandma's frown very much. “How soon will we know—about what they plan to do?”

“This ain't no bother for young'uns.” Now Holly was aware of Grandpa's very unfamiliar sharpness.

But Grandma was shaking her head slowly. She did raise her hand now and push up her glasses, but she did that as if she were very tired, and not with her usual emphatic thump. “You can't keep young'uns from knowin' somethin' like this, Luther. They'll hear the talk soon enough in town. We don't know nothin' for sure, Holly. An' until we do, you
don't say anythin' even if you is asked. You understand?” She gazed at Holly in a way which was a warning Holly could not disregard.

“Yes,” Holly answered. She longed to say that Grandma and Grandpa need not worry, if she could just get to see Ha-gar again. But when could she?

If she tried sleeping on the pillow again tonight, would it work? It must! She must get to Hagar as soon as she could. Or maybe—Holly shivered—maybe Hagar would do nothing unless the plants grew out there in the shed. And it might takes days before they showed. Get the plant food, she could do that; she had enough money left from her allowance to buy at least one package.

She wanted to go up to her room, get out her purse, and count how much money she had left, because she had bought that special notebook for her project yesterday and she was not quite sure now. This was more in her thoughts at present than Grandma.

Grandpa had reached for his coat, which was hanging up on the end of one of the stalls.

“I'll put the truck under cover tonight,” he said. “There'll be a stiff freeze by all the signs, if I know 'em.”

Grandma jumped up. “Freeze—an' m' plants in the fix-it shed. Where's my coat, an' my scarf?”

“Now don't you take on, Mercy. I'll see to loadin' up the stove. No sense in you tryin' to do it. That old stove never did work good for you no how.”

Holly, who had frozen herself at the mention of the plants, relaxed when she saw that Grandma was not insisting
on seeing to that chore. As Grandpa went out the door she headed for the stairs, intent on two things. She must find the pillow and make sure she did not forget where it was so she could use it again to see Hagar. For by now Holly was convinced that the pillow was the real key to the maze. Then she must also portion out her money to get the plant food which would coax the seeds she had planted to grow as quickly as possible.

When she got to the bedroom she expected to find Judy, but there was no sign of the younger girl. Holly went straight to Judy's box of cloth pieces, which was in the wardrobe. Moments later, with its contents all on the floor about her, the box turned upside-down and empty in her hands, she knew only one thing. The pillow was gone. And there could only be a single answer—Judy had taken it!

Which meant that unless she could get it back, she would be unable to meet Hagar—to get those witch wishes!

“She's got to give it back!” Holly kicked angrily at those treasured squares of Judy's, all those pieces she was saving up to make a quilt when Mom had time to show her how.

The trouble with Judy was that when she got an idea into her head it was set there for ages and ages. You could not change it by talking to her, not in the least. Just as she had been planning her quilt for almost a year and she never forgot about it or lost interest.

But just now those pieces around Holly's feet did not matter in the least. What did was that maybe Judy had some ideas about the pillow. Could she even have destroyed it?

Holly moved back and sat upon her bed with a desolate thump. If Judy had done that—how was she ever going to get to Hagar and claim her wishes? And if she did not, what would happen to Dimsdale?

“My pieces! Holly Wade, did you do this?” Judy, her eyes snapping in anger, stood in the doorway of the room.

“What did you do with the pillow?” Holly did not heed these signs of one of Judy's very rare outbursts of temper.

“My pieces!” Judy repeated. She was down on the floor crawling around now, picking up, smoothing out. “Holly, this is about the meanest mean thing anybody could do! You're plain
mean!
”

But there was only one thought in Holly's mind. She caught Judy by her shoulders, giving her a vigorous shake. “You've got to tell me! What did you do with the pillow? It isn't here anywhere, I've looked.”

Judy twisted hard enough to break Holly's grip. Her lower lip stuck out and she gave Holly such a hostile glare that for a moment the older girl drew away.

“Won't tell you! Everything's gone wrong since you took
that pillow, Holly. I found your draw piece of paper, too. And you are a cheater! It was really Crock's turn and you grabbed it. Then what did you do, you took us in a place and lost us! You're not going to do that again, Holly—me an' Crock—we're not going to ever let you. You had no right to dump out all my pieces like this. I'm going to tell Grandma, ask her if I can have my own room where you can't pull my things around. So there!”

“You don't understand,” Holly began—then it was as if something stuck in her throat. She found to her surprise that she could not say what she wanted to: tell Judy about the wishes; and Hagar's promises—the need to get help for Dimsdale.

“I understand just how mean you are!” Judy exploded. “And I don't like you anymore, Holly. Ever since we've come here, you've been getting meaner 'n meaner. You're just like an old witch yourself! So there!”

Judy was in her most stubborn mood. Holly fought her own impatience. Something bubbled up in her; she wanted to hit Judy, hurt her,
make
her tell where the pillow was. Then—Holly sat down on her bed. What made her want to hurt Judy? She had never felt like that before in her whole life. Oh, Judy could be stubborn and hard to reason with at times, but never before had Holly had the impulse to hit her, hurt her so hard she would have to do as Holly said. What was happening? Holly knew a growing fear she could not explain, nor did she really understand what she was afraid of. Unless it was that wild part of her which wanted now to strike out—to—hurt—