Time of the Witch (14 page)

"What?" I stared at her, still gulping from all the tears I'd shed. "She won't undo it, Wanda, she won't. If you'd seen her when she told me what was going to happen you'd believe me."

Wanda wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. "Why don't we go on back to my house and have something cold to drink? Maybe if we could just cool off, we could think better."

We walked slowly through the woods. By the time we got to Wanda's, we were so hot our T-shirts were clinging to our backs. Annabelle glanced up from one of Charlene's old fashion magazines and waved at us.

"You two look like you're half dead from the heat. Just sit down right here on the steps and I'll bring you each a nice cold glass of fresh lemonade." Leaving her magazine, she went inside.

Without a word, we collapsed on the steps and stared glumly across the yard. When Annabelle reappeared with the lemonade, we drank it slowly, letting the cold liquid fill our mouths and trickle down our throats.

"Hoooo," Annabelle sighed. "Nothing like a cold drink on a hot day. I sure hope we get some rain from those clouds." She pointed at a line of tall, full-bellied clouds drifting slowly along the horizon. "They look like thunderheads in the making." Hitching up her flowered dress, she stretched out her legs. "Excuse my bare legs, but it's just too damned hot for modesty."

I stared at Annabelle's legs spreading out from her hips like soft white hams. Stencilled with clusters of purple veins, loose and quivery, they looked old and sad next to Wanda's and my hard, skinny legs. I felt uncomfortable looking at them and I wished she'd pull her dress down again, heat or no heat.

"Well, well, there goes Maude." Annabelle pointed at the old woman creeping slow as a turtle past the house, her neck extended, her head turning to look at us. She lifted her walking stick and smiled at us and I drew back against Annabelle, shuddering.

"What's the matter, honey? She been bothering you?"
Annabelle put her arm around me and gave me a quick hug. "Just stay away from her and she won't hurt you."

"Do you think she's got evil powers?" Wanda asked.

Annabelle stared after Maude. "Like I told you the other night, there's lots of things in this world I don't know about and that old woman's one of them. I used to go to her and have my fortune told. Sometimes what she said happened and sometimes it didn't. The last time I went to see her, she said I was going to have four more kids to raise and I laughed in her face. Hell, I was forty-five years old and a widow with no hope of finding a husband any time soon. But the very next week, along comes your mother with you four kids. And in another six months she was gone and there I was raising you all."

Annabelle laughed till her thighs shook. "After that, I didn't want any more fortunes told. Sometimes it's better not to know what life's got in store for you."

"But do you think she can cast spells and make bad things happen to people?" Wanda persisted.

"You mean like a witch in a fairy tale?" Annabelle frowned. "I've heard people say she's capable of causing all kinds of trouble. Twyla for one. The last time she was here, she told me to keep you girls away from her, but I don't know. Maude seems harmless to me."

"What does Twyla know about Maude?" Wanda asked.

"Oh, a few years ago, Twyla started hanging around with Maude. There were rumors she was learning witchcraft. She always was a funny little thing, even as a child, so it might have been true." Annabelle paused and lit a cigarette. Exhaling slowly, she added, "Anyway, she and Maude had some sort of a disagreement
and Twyla left town. Went all the way to Harrisburg just to get away from her."

Annabelle heaved herself up from the steps and smoothed her dress over her hips. "Much as I hate to drive in this heat, I've got to go into Harrisburg to run some errands. You two want to ride along with me? I bet Laura would enjoy seeing Twyla's shop. It's real cute the way she's got it fixed up."

The two of us jumped up, ready to hop into the car immediately, but Annabelle frowned at Wanda's feet. "You go right inside, Wanda Louise, and get some shoes on. I don't want you stepping on cigarette butts and burning your bare feet." Then she looked at me. "We'll stop by your aunt's so you can get shoes on and ask her if it's all right for you to go."

While Annabelle and Wanda waited in the car, I ran up the back steps and into the kitchen. Aunt Grace was standing at her drawing table, staring at a sketch of a rabbit so stiffly posed I could hardly believe she'd drawn it. Other pencil sketches littered the work surface—squirrels, rocks, ferns, birds, all drawn on paper worn thin with erasing, all as poorly drawn as the rabbit. While I watched, Aunt Grace tore the rabbit in half and crumpled the paper into a ball. As she tossed it into the trash can, she looked up and saw me standing in the doorway.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

Aunt Grace looked at me, her eyes bright with tears. "I don't know. Nothing looks right to me today. My pictures seem so ordinary, so mediocre, not worth the effort it takes to produce them!"

Sitting down at the table, she buried her face in her
hands, looking more like Mom than herself. "How could I have fooled myself all these years, thinking I was an artist?" Her voice was muffled by her hands and full of tears.

I stared at Aunt Grace, frightened. Timidly I touched her shoulder. "Annabelle invited me to drive to Harrisburg with her and Wanda. Is it all right if I go?"

Aunt Grace nodded her head. "Go on, Laura, and have a nice time." She looked up and smiled at me. "Artists often have bad days. It's probably all the worry about Jason that's making me feel so bad about everything. By the time you get back, I'll try to be feeling more like myself."

"You're sure you'll be all right?" I asked.

Aunt Grace nodded. "Don't worry about me."

"Where's Carol?"

"Out in the yard somewhere taking a sunbath."

I hesitated a minute, then ran up to my room to get my shoes. When I came back down Aunt Grace was still sitting there, bent over her drawing table. Her face looked drawn and tired.

"Annabelle's waiting for me in the car," I said, edging toward the door.

"Well, go on, then, Laura. The
poor
woman must be roasting like an Easter ham in this heat."

Giving Aunt Grace one last, worried look, I left the house and climbed into the back seat of Annabelle's old Dodge Dart.

"Twyla's shop is just about in the middle of this block." Annabelle drew up at a stop sign and pointed down a street lined with old stone buildings. "You two can get out here and I'll go tend to my business. I'll meet you in an hour or so."

Wanda shoved open her door and we climbed out of the car. While we waited to cross the street, I watched Annabelle maneuver her way down the narrow street, swerving around a pickup truck and slowing to let a woman pushing a stroller cross in front of her. As the car swung widely around a corner and disappeared without a mishap, Wanda and I crossed the street.

We passed a small grocery store announcing unadvertised specials on applesauce and tuna fish, a used clothing store with a window full of tired mannequins wearing faded dresses, sequined jackets and mangy fur wraps, an antique shop spilling tables, chairs and bureaus onto the sidewalk, and Jo'Mar's Beauty Salon, perfuming the hot air with the pungent odors of per-manents and hair dyes.

"There it is." Wanda pointed at a sign hanging over
a narrow doorway. On it were an owl and a cat in a small green boat. "The Owl and the Pussycat," Wanda said, squinting up at the sign.

"That's from a poem," I said. Seeing Wanda's blank look, I recited, "'The owl and the pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea-green boat.'" I paused, trying to remember what came next. "Then there's something about a runcible spoon and a piggy wig with a ring in the end of his nose and they get married by the light of the silvery moon." Wanda looked so perplexed I couldn't help laughing. "Daddy used to read it to me when I was little. It was his favorite poem."

Wanda opened the door and a bell jangled as we entered. Inside it seemed very dark after the bright sunlight and we stood still for a minute, letting our eyes get used to the dim light. The walls of the small shop were lined with floor to ceiling shelves stocked with all sorts of things: hand-thrown pottery, apple-headed dolls, papier-mâché puppets, hand-dipped candles, stuffed animals, batik T-shirts, wooden toys, and handwoven shawls. From the ceiling hung ceramic wind chimes tinkling in the breeze from an overhead fan, driftwood mobiles turning gracefully, and silent dolls with white satin wings and long yarn hair and beautiful dreamy faces, swaying gently to and fro.

"May I help you?" Behind a counter in one corner, a woman with long blonde hair smiled at us. She was holding an unfinished angel doll in one hand, and the work table beside her was covered with parts of dolls and their costumes. "Or are you just admiring my Sisters of the Moon?"

We looked at each other, neither one of us knowing what she was talking about.

"The dolls, the ones with wings." She held up one. "They're called the Sisters of the Moon."

"They're beautiful." I reached up and touched the silky fabric of the doll's dress.

"Is Twyla here?" Wanda asked, ignoring the dolls.

"She's in the back room reading Tarot cards for a customer. Do you want to talk to her?" The woman smiled at us, her face kind and gentle.

"If she's not too busy," I said.

"She should be finished in a few minutes. You all can look around the shop or just sit down and wait." The woman pointed to a bench under the window.

Wanda walked over and sat down while I watched the woman stuff the doll's body. "Did you make up the pattern for her?"

She nodded. "Twyla thought up the idea and I came up with the pattern. They're one of the most popular things we sell."

Before I could ask any more questions, the beaded curtains covering a doorway behind the counter clattered aside, and a middle-aged woman stepped into the shop. Twyla followed her, looking even more exotic than she had the last time I'd seen her. She had divided her hair into dozens of long, beaded braids, each one smaller in diameter than, a baby's finger, and she glittered with bracelets, rings, necklaces and earrings.

"Well, Mrs. Tanenger," she was saying, "you've got to remember that the Hanged Man can represent many things, not all of them bad. I truly think his presence is a positive sign." Her voice was soft and rich, like hot coffee with whipped cream on top.

"I hope you're right, Twyla." Mrs. Tanenger didn't look convinced. While the Sisters of the Moon spun
around her, gently nudging her broad shoulders with their tiny hands and pointed toes, she reached out and squeezed Twyla's hand, totally engulfing it with her large one. Then, without looking at Wanda or me, she left the shop.

As I put out a hand to still one of the dolls, swinging wildly in Mrs. Tanenger's wake, Twyla looked at me and smiled.

"Wanda and Laura, what a nice surprise!" Twyla reached out and gave our hands a quick squeeze. "Is Annabelle with you?"

Wanda shook her head. "She's doing some errands, so she brought us in to see your shop."

Twyla smiled. "Did you just want to look around or did you want to see me?"

"Well, we kind of wanted to talk to you about something," Wanda said.

Twyla smiled as if she thought we wanted our fortunes told. She led us through the beaded curtains and into a small room, dimly lit by sunlight shining through two windows set deeply in thick stone walls. A huge fireplace dominated one wall and the other walls were hung with dozens of small mirrors in carved wood frames. Plants of all shapes and sizes hung from the ceiling, clustered on the window sills, and nestled in the corners.

Gesturing at a heap of large, brightly colored pillows heaped around a low table, Twyla told us to sit down. I glanced at the Tarot cards scattered across the table top and shuddered at the sight of the Hanged Man. No matter what Twyla had told Mrs. Tanenger, he looked like bad news to me.

Twyla glanced from Wanda to me, and when neither
of us said anything, she asked about Wanda's family. Especially Tanya Marie.

Wanda hesitated, looking at me first to see if I was going to say anything. "Charlene took her off to Wheeling with Eddie," she finally said, immediately turning her attention to one of her many mosquito bites.

Twyla looked surprised. "You mean after all her begging me to help her, he came back all by himself?" Twyla's bracelets jingled as she reached for the Tarot Cards. Scooping them up, she straightened the deck and set it down on the polished surface of the table.

"Well, not exactly by his self." Wanda turned her attention to the fringe on one of the pillows and began twisting it around her fingers.

"She didn't go to Maude, did she?" Twyla stared so intently at Wanda that she finally looked up at her, her face flushed.

"Yes, she did, that's just what she did," Wanda said.

"Why didn't you help Charlene?" I stared at Twyla.

Twyla frowned. "I told her she was better off without Eddie. Letting him get her pregnant was bad enough, but marrying him would have been much worse. No, I told her to be glad he was gone. But she wouldn't listen to me." Twyla shook her head and her braids swung, clinking beads.

"He didn't act very nice the day he come to get her," Wanda said. "And Annabelle said almost exactly what you said. She didn't want her to go."

"Maude doesn't care about happiness." Twyla stood up and walked to the window. Picking up the Siamese cat lying there, she stroked him gently. With her back to us, she said, "We're going to have a storm tonight. I can feel it coming." Then she added, without turning
away from the window, "But you didn't come here about Charlene. You've been to Maude yourselves. Haven't you?" She turned around then, gazing at me over the cat's head.

I shivered and nodded my head. Taking a deep breath, I told her about my parents and how Maude had promised to help me. "But it didn't happen the way I thought it would," I added and told her what Maude had said when I'd seen her in the woods. "What can I do?" I whispered. "Can you help me?"