The Witch (25 page)

She thought she heard some vague chatter. Even thought she heard her own name used.

Those damn mice, she thought, checking for the baseball bat. The bat no longer leaned against a leg of the table. She circled the table, but no bat.

She caught a flash of movement near the tarp. The baseball bat floated away from her and seemed to scurry under the tarp.

Mice can’t do that
. But she wasn’t about to shake out the tarp to make sure.

Something brushed across her slippered foot and Mabel held her breath but refused to look down at the floor.

The place is infested. Okay, I’ll just calmly head for the staircase and leave
.

A twittery chuckle filled the basement.

“Rosemary,” Mabel called out in a low voice. Her throat felt raspy, dry, tight. “Rosemary,” she tried again, forcing more lung power into the name.

Mabel moved toward the staircase but stopped abruptly when the furnace door again opened. Positive she had secured the lock, she broke out in a cold sweat.

A long growl caught her attention, and she saw a wolf standing midway up the staircase. Her eyes shifted to the broken window over the furnace.

“Rosemary,” she called. The damn girl must have hunkered down in front of the television.

Cold dampness moved up her ankle, and a sharp pain splintered her flesh on the other ankle. She looked down to see a tiny snake-like blackness slipping up her calf. She tried to brush it off, but the thing clung.

Leeches
, she thought.
How the hell could there be leeches?

Another sharp pain stunned her into checking her other ankle. Blood dripped from a wound in her flesh, and a little man ran around her foot waving a tiny ax. She went to kick him, but lost her balance when something else appeared to bite the back of the bloodied flesh. She lay on her back looking at the table, where a small old woman waved a staff and shouted out a curse she could barely hear.

“Let her blood move swiftly through her veins and let the pressure build inside her skull. Feel it, dearie.” The old woman tilted her head toward Mabel. “The heart speeds to move the blood through the veins that snake and coil through your brain. Feel the pressure build each second as the veins’ walls come near to bursting.”

Mabel felt out of breath. Panic rose quickly, and her head seemed filled with a battering pain. She tried to rise but found she could no longer see.

“Rosemary, help me.” Mabel’s garbled words sounded choppy, indecipherable even to her own ears. Her chest ached and her head pounded. Still she tried to stand, yet her limbs no longer belonged to her. Her vision cleared, but she wished it hadn’t when she saw little bodies swarming over her. Most seemed eager to taste her flesh and drink her blood. Inside her head she heard the echo of soft chomping and slurping. She wanted to call out, but couldn’t think of the words.

Who was she trying to call? The name eluded her. Where was she? Her home or someone else’s? She had known. Why didn’t she know now?

Her flesh seemed pricked by dozens of needles, yet gradually the pain faded and a blessed numbness enveloped her flesh.

“I’m sorry, but Jacob’s having his dressings changed. It takes at least an hour to complete. Perhaps you could grab some lunch.”

Rosemary breathed in the stench of antiseptics, blood, urine, feces, and disease. She hated hospitals. Hated those who peopled hospitals. Especially the doctors who wore colorful hats into surgery. Who did they think they cheered? And what of the nurses who spent more time gossiping than taking care of patients? Laughing in the middle of the night. Covering their hands with latex to add another layer separating them from the patients.

The woman across the desk from her touched her arm and Rosemary took a step back.

“Can I get you some water?”

Rosemary shook her head and turned away.

The glass doors to the hospital kept opening and closing with the rush to and from lunch. Rosemary couldn’t find her way out amidst the crowd. Always someone coming toward her or knocking into her on their way out.

She had been here all night, lying in bed in a small room just off the Intensive Care Unit. The sheets had been stiff, the pillows had the consistency of mud, and the crinkle of the mattress protector echoed with her every toss and turn.

“Excuse me. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Rosemary looked down at the arm of her sweater. Someone had splashed the wool with coffee.

“Let me get some napkins. I’ll certainly pay for the dry cleaning.”

Rosemary ignored the intruder. She walked into the parking lot and didn’t know why. She hadn’t come by car. The ambulance had taken her and her mother directly to the emergency room.

She didn’t know what direction to take. The freeway noise hummed in the background. A young man sat in his car, running his engine while his exhaust polluted the air. The hospital gardener lined up clay pots of unknown flowers that must have been hardy enough for the cooler fall weather. An ambulance sped out of the driveway. A block away she heard the siren start, and she shuddered, remembering last night.

A cab
, she thought. Reception could call a cab for her, and she would be able to spend an hour or two with the children before returning to the hospital. An hour or two consoling the innocent victims. But she wondered how innocent Stephen was. How much had he learned from his mother? She wondered whether she should talk to him about his grandmother. And what about his father’s injuries? He missed his father. Wanted him back home. But …

She couldn’t do anything more at the hospital but sit and twiddle her thumbs. Not very productive.

Both children stayed the night with Mrs. Rosen and were still presumably at her house. Guilt swept through Rosemary. She hadn’t bothered to call Mrs. Rosen about the children since she had left with her mother for the hospital last night. How safe was Robin with Stephen? He adored his cousin, but what did he think his mother wanted him to do?

Jacob had been sure Cathy’s influence on Stephen was negative. He actually believed Cathy’s spirit remained at the house. And maybe he was right.

Rosemary hurried back to the reception desk of the hospital. She had already given her cell number to her mother’s doctor, and it would be a while before Jacob could be seen.

“I need a cab,” she hurriedly said, interrupting another visitor’s request.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll get you one,” the receptionist said.

The man in front of Rosemary gave her a dirty look, but it didn’t really register with her. The five-minute wait did.

“But I need the cab now. Give me the number and I’ll call myself.”

“You’ll have to wait,” said the receptionist. “Right now I’m helping this gentleman.”

Rosemary looked at the man as if she noticed him for the first time. His sour expression forced her to back off. Antsy, she twisted around to look out the main door. A cab had pulled up, and two nurses were assisting an elderly man out of the back seat and into a wheelchair.

She ran out the door and to the cab, seating herself in the back seat before the elderly man had completely cleared the vehicle.

She rattled off the address and the cab driver shook his head.

“I ain’t been paid yet, lady.”

The elderly man fumbled through his pockets.

“Hell! I’ll pay his fare. Go! Go!”

“What do you think happened last night?” asked Robin.

Stephen sat on the window ledge, waiting. He didn’t know what he waited for, but knew that he couldn’t do anything else. He had begged Mrs. Rosen to take him back to the house, but she had refused. His aunt’s rental car sat in the driveway, but all the house lights were out.

“Who do you think the ambulance was for?”

Robin kept asking questions, and this was the only one he had an answer for.

“Your mother is fine. She was at the door last night talking to Mrs. Rosen. I couldn’t hear what they said, but your mother looked fine.”

“You think Grandma is hurt? Do you think she tripped and fell down the basement stairs? Maybe you shouldn’t have piled all that stuff at the top of the basement stairs.”

“You told me to do that.” His angry face turned to look at her. “You said she wouldn’t try to go down in the basement if there was a mess.”

“Could she have not seen it? Maybe she didn’t have any lights on.”

“I told you the uglies were getting ready for something and the wolf had come back.”

“You think Grandma is …” Robin hesitated. “Is sick like your father?”

“I didn’t see any firemen.”

“That’s good at least, isn’t it?”

“She could have been eaten by the wolf.”

“That only happens in fairy tales, Stephen. That’s silly.”

“I saw the wolf, Robin. My wolf. The one Molly and I made.”

“And your mother brought to life.”

“With my help.” His voice quivered.

“Don’t cry. You didn’t want anyone hurt. You thought you were obeying your mother.”

Stephen turned and looked at Robin.

“I have to stop Momma.”

“Look, there’s a cab pulling up.” Robin leaned forward in her wheelchair, anticipating her mother’s arrival. She smiled broadly when her mother exited the cab.

The two children watched Rosemary pause and consider whether she should go into Stephen’s house first.

“No!” Stephen cried out.

And although she couldn’t have heard him, Rosemary changed directions and headed for Mrs. Rosen’s house.

Robin swiftly moved to the front door while Stephen lagged behind.

“Where’s Stephen?” he heard his aunt quickly ask. No one replied, but soon she appeared in the living room, where Stephen stood with his hands in his pockets.

“What have you been up to?” asked Rosemary.

Misunderstanding the question, Mrs. Rosen listed the tasks and games they had been doing all morning.

“May I speak to Stephen alone?”

Mrs. Rosen politely left the room, leaving Robin behind.

“You too. Go help Mrs. Rosen in the kitchen.”

“No. Stephen never wanted to do anything wrong, Mom. You shouldn’t blame him. I told him to put all that stuff in front of the basement door.”

“What?” Rosemary faced her daughter.

“It seemed like a good idea. We thought Grandma wouldn’t go into the basement if she had to clear away all that stuff first.”

“What do you know about that basement? You haven’t been down there, have you?”

“No. I’ve only been at the top of the stairs.”

Rosemary whirled about to face Stephen.

“Why did you bring Robin to the basement?”

“I told you, I haven’t been down in the basement, and Stephen didn’t invite me. I caught him down there one day on my own. He didn’t want me there.” Robin placed her wheelchair in front of her mother. “Don’t blame him. He’s confused.”

“Confused?”

“His mother is angry, and he doesn’t know why.”

“What about your mother, Stephen?”

“She’s come back to him,” said Robin.

“She’s dead, Robin. Don’t talk nonsense.”

“I believe Stephen, Mom. I think he …” Robin stopped and looked over her shoulder at her cousin. “He has been talking to someone. She may not be your mother, Stephen.”

“Momma is back.” Stephen’s voice cracked.

“What does she want you to do?” asked Rosemary.

He shrugged because this was where he was confused. He had wanted his mother back, but didn’t

realize the cost he and others would pay.

“Is Grandma all right?” asked Robin.

“She’s in the hospital.”

“The same one they took my daddy to?” Stephen asked.

“Yes. Convenient. I can run back and forth between the two wards while I worry about you kids.”

“I can stay with Daddy,” Stephen offered.

“This has already been explained to you, Stephen; I’m not going to waste my time telling you again.”

“But Momma and Daddy once sneaked me into the hospital when Grandma was sick.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re best locked in a cage.”

“Momma!” Robin wheeled herself over to Stephen. “She doesn’t mean that. Only Grandma’s sick, and Momma wants her to get better.”

Rosemary walked out of the room. Robin reached out and touched Stephen’s shirt sleeve. Both children sunk into their own private thoughts.

Ten minutes later, Rosemary returned carrying several of Robin’s schoolbooks, which had been left over from the day before.

“I called a cab. It should be here in five minutes. What did you do with your jacket, Robin?”

“Why?” The girl sat tall in her chair.

“I’ve got it,” called Mrs. Rosen entering the room.

“Thanks. Let me help you put it on.”

Robin backed away, the wheelchair hitting a table and knocking over a small statuette.

“That’s okay. It didn’t break. Just an accident. Don’t worry about it.” Mrs. Rosen lifted the statuette off the carpet and placed it on a table farther away.

“Is Stephen coming?” Robin asked.

“Don’t give me a hard time. Not now.”

“Stephen’s staying to help me make some pies for this evening. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Mrs. Rosen placed a hand on Stephen’s right shoulder. He didn’t budge.

“Mom, you’re acting as if you think Stephen would hurt me.”

Rosemary forced her daughter into the jacket.

“Go with your mother, Robin. Maybe you’ll get to see my Daddy. Tell him I miss him. I want him home.”

“This is a mistake. Maybe that woman who visits you isn’t your mother. Make her go away. If she loves you she will. She won’t want to hurt you or get you in trouble.” Robin’s voice filled his head with a cloud of nonsense words.

Rosemary began to wheel her daughter out of the room.

“Mom, you can’t leave him here alone. What if he gets hurt?”

“Mrs. Rosen is here, and she won’t be letting him back into his house,” Rosemary said, staring into Stephen’s eyes just before she turned the wheelchair into the hall.

Within ten minutes the cab arrived and took both his cousin and aunt away. He watched from the window and Robin waved to him. His aunt never turned to acknowledge him.

“What’s all this talk about a woman who visits you, Stephen?” asked Grannie Smith.