The Doll in the Garden

by Mary Downing Hahn

  “I saw it, I saw its face!” Kristi was kneeling in the weeds, her hands over her eyes. “Oh, Ashley, what should we do?”

  My heart was thumping and I could hardly breathe, but I forced myself to look at what had fallen from the box. Too small to be a person, it lay in the weeds, face down, its clothing in rags, its hair tangled.

  Cautiously I reached out and turned it over. Its china face was pale and smudged with dirt. One eye was half-open and the other was closed, its nose was chipped, but it was still beautiful.

  I held it toward Kristi. “It’s an old doll,” I whispered.

  “Are you sure?” Kristi peeked through her fingers like someone watching a horror movie.

  I touched the doll’s tiny teeth with the tip of my finger and then tried to wipe the dirt from her round cheeks. “Of course I’m sure. Isn’t she pretty?”

  Finally satisfied we hadn’t dug up a dead body, Kristi came closer and stroked the doll’s hair. “Can I hold her?”

  “Be very careful with her.” Reluctantly I handed the doll to Kristi and watched her anxiously. “Don’t poke at her teeth or her eyes,” I said.

  “It’s a shame she’s so dirty.” Kristi pulled the doll’s ragged dress up and examined her jointed legs. “Her body’s made of leather.”

  I reached for the doll, but Kristi ducked away. “Let me look at her,” she said. “I’ve never seen one like this.”

  Although I wanted to snatch it back, I let Kristi examine the doll. I picked up the wooden box. Inside I found a scroll of yellowed paper tied with a faded blue ribbon. On the paper was written:

  Louisa Perkins, Please forgive me,

  I am sorrie.

  Your friend, Carrie.

  I read the message out loud and then swapped the scrap of paper for the doll. Kristi studied the words, her forehead creased.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” she said finally. “Is the doll’s name Louisa Perkins?”

  I shook my head. “Her name is Anna Maria.” I showed Kristi the letters caned on the lid of the box.

  “Well, who are Louisa and Carrie then?” Kristi stared at me, obviously puzzled.

  I gazed into Anna Maria’s one open eye and wished she could talk. “I guess Carrie’s the one who buried her,” I said slowly, “but I don’t know who Louisa Perkins is.”

  For a moment we were silent, and a breeze sprung up, shaking the Queen Anne’s lace and bringing the smell of roses to us. The garden was very quiet, and my voice seemed to hang on the air repeating, “Louisa Perkins, Louisa Perkins.” Who was she? Why was Carrie sorry? And why had she buried the doll?

  Suddenly Kristi grabbed my arm. “Look behind you,” she whispered. “The white cat’s under the bush!”

  Chapter 6

  Snowball

  I STARED AT the cat, and he stared back. His eyes were large and pale green, and his fur was pure white. He looked every bit as real as Oscar, and as he approached me, he began to purr. Timidly I extended a hand and the cat sniffed it slowly. This time he acquainted himself with every finger before he let me stroke his sleek side.

  As the cat rubbed himself against me, I glanced at Kristi. Still hiding her face in her hands, she was crouching a few inches away. “Is it gone?” she whimpered.

  “He’s just an ordinary cat,” I told her. “Can’t you hear him purring?”

  Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, Kristi moved her hands to cover her ears. “Make it go away, Ashley,” she begged. “Make it go away!”

  Ignoring her, I let the cat climb into my lap. While he sniffed Anna Maria’s hair and clothes, I examined the leather collar he wore around his neck. On a little brass tag was the name Snowball. Not very original, I thought, but when I said it aloud, he purred louder and bumped his face against mine.

  “Kristi,” I said, “stop acting like a baby. He’s no ghost. He must belong to someone. He even has a name—Snowball.”

  Kristi slowly opened her eyes and stared at Snowball. She frowned and shook her head, obviously unconvinced. “Nobody around here has a cat like that, Ashley.”

  “Maybe he jumped out of a car or something.” I smiled at Snowball and he meowed and rubbed against Anna Maria. Then he slipped out of my arms and sniffed the box. He went over even inch of it with his little pink nose, his body tense, his ears pricked. When his nose had told him all it could, he looked at me. For a second I expected him to speak, but he swung his head toward the house instead and crouched beside me, his ears pressed against his skull.

  At the same moment, Max started barking. Peering through the jungle of rosebushes and weeds between us and the lawn, I saw Max running toward us with Miss Cooper hobbling behind him.

  “Quick, hide Anna Maria!” I thrust the doll into the box and Kristi shoved it deep into the brambles. I was sure Miss Cooper would take her if she saw her. After all, we’d found the doll on her property.

  Snowball followed Anna Maria into the shrubbery, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid Max. The dog crashed through the underbrush and chased the cat across the lawn. Snowball ran past Miss Cooper like a white streak and disappeared under the hedge separating her yard from the empty lot.

  It would have been smart to stay hidden, but I was worried about Snowball. As I plunged out of the shrubbery, shouting at Max, Miss Cooper waved her cane at me.

  “You, girl!” she cried. “Didn’t I tell you to stay out of the garden?”

  “Call your dog back!” I shouted. “He’ll hurt Snowball!”

  Miss Cooper stared at me. “That cat doesn’t need any help from you or me,” she muttered. “The devil takes care of his own!” Her voice quavered, and she clutched her cane so tightly the knuckles on her hands whitened.

  Max came back then, and Miss Cooper called him to her side. He dropped to his haunches and growled at me as I edged away slowly, determined not to let the dog know I was scared of him. Suddenly Miss Cooper’s hand shot out and caught my arm.

  “Where’s that Smith girl?” she asked.

  As far as I knew, Kristi was still hiding in the garden, but I shook my head and pretended not to know what the old woman was talking about.

  “She had better not be in my roses.” Miss Cooper let me go and hobbled toward the garden. Prodding the shrubbery with her cane, she called, “You come out of there, girl, or I’ll send Max in to get you!”

  “Miss Cooper, Ashley, what’s the trouble?” Mom was coming down the steps, and Miss Cooper wheeled about to face her.

  “You better get some control of this girl,” the old woman told Mom. “I already talked to you once today about her. Like I said, I’ll have you out of here next week if she doesn’t start behaving!”

  Without another word. Miss Cooper snapped her fingers at Max and the two of them walked away. Mom stared after her, but she didn’t try to stop her. As soon as Miss Cooper’s door slammed shut, Mom turned to me.

  “Ashley, what’s going on?” Mom pushed her hair behind her ears, and I noticed the long silvery threads shining in the dark waxes. Ever since Daddy died, I thought, the gray hairs had multiplied along with the tiny lines around her eyes that saddened her face.

  Feeling guilty for taking her away from her work, I put my arms around her waist and hugged her.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I whispered. “She’s such an old grouch.”

  “I know, honey,” Mom said. “But if she evicts us, where will we rind another place? Until I get a job, we have to be very careful with money.”

  “I’ll try not to bother her,” I promised, but I knew the very fact that I walked on the floor over her head annoyed Miss Cooper.

  “Let’s go inside,” Mom said. “I made some iced tea.”

  Although I hated to leave Anna Maria in the garden, I followed Mom toward the house. Miss Cooper was probably watching me from her kitchen window, just waiting to catch me, her finger poised on the telephone dial ready to call the real estate company.

  As I started up the steps, I glanced back and saw Kristi run across her yard. I was glad she, at leas
t, had escaped Miss Cooper’s anger.

  …

  That evening while Mom and I were sitting on the porch, I glanced at the garden, darkening now as night approached. Poor Anna Maria was lying alone under the bushes. It wasn’t right to leave her there with nothing to protect her. Later, when Mom was asleep, I decided I’d sneak outside and bring Anna Maria into the house where she’d be safe.

  “Is that the cat you saw?” Mom asked suddenly.

  I peered into the dusk and glimpsed Snowball’s white fur as he vanished into the garden. A little shiver ran up and down my arms and lingered at the back of my neck as Miss Cooper’s words echoed in my ears. Was Snowball the devil’s creature?

  Chapter 7

  A Midnight Adventure

  WHEN I GOT into bed, Oscar was curled up on my pillow waiting for me. He purred happily while I petted him, and when he’d had enough affection, he settled down on the windowsill to watch the night.

  Was he waiting for Snowball? Crawling to the foot of my bed, I peered down at the yard. Mom was still typing, and an oblong of light from Miss Cooper’s kitchen window slanted across the grass. Fireflies winked and blinked in the shadows, but the garden was nearly invisible in the darkness.

  I waited till my eyelids got so heavy I could barely see, but there was no sign of Snowball. Just the crickets chirping, the leaves rustling, and now and then a passing car. Once the kitchen door opened and Max bounded out. I watched him run around the backyard, his dog tags jingling, but he didn’t go into the garden and he didn’t bark. He just did his business and went back inside.

  After the door shut behind Max, the kitchen light went out, and the backyard surrendered itself to the moon. Its full face peered down from high in the sky, brightening the water in Miss Cooper’s birdbath, illuminating the clusters of Queen Anne’s lace in the garden, casting black shadows everywhere else.

  A little later, Mom’s typewriter stopped clicking. I listened to her moving around, getting ready for bed.

  When everything was still, I looked at my clock radio, glowing green on top of the bureau. It was after twelve. Taking my flashlight, I crept out of my room, shutting Oscar inside to keep him from following me.

  I eased the back door open and tiptoed down the steps. They were already cool and damp with dew, and I shivered as a little breeze puffed my nightgown away from my legs. All around me, the night lived its secret life. As I ran across the grass toward the garden, I felt as if a host of creatures watched me from the inky black shadows.

  I paused at the end of the lawn and looked back at the house. All the windows were dark, but the moonlight shone full on the white clapboard and sent an intricate shadow from the stairs slanting across the wall. I was sure Oscar was still at his post, and I hoped he was the only one to see me slowly push aside the bushes and creep into the garden.

  Brambles snatched at my hair and my nightgown as I made my way slowly toward the goldfish pond. A spider’s web brushed my face, frightening me with its clammy touch, but I told myself I wasn’t a baby like Kristi. There was nothing in the garden to hurt me. Nothing to scare me.

  When I was sure I was invisible from the house, I sent the beam of my flashlight darting through the underbrush, seeking Anna Maria’s box. Shadows danced around me and another gust of wind flipped the leaves silver side up. Where had Kristi hidden the doll?

  Hearing a faint meow, I turned the flashlight in the sound’s direction and saw Snowball crouched beside the box. His eyes reflected the beam of light, and his fur glimmered.

  “You found her for me, didn’t you?” I whispered as he rubbed against me.

  Snowball purred louder when I shone the light into the open box. In its beam, Anna Maria looked pale and worn with age; her face seemed as sad as Mom’s.

  “You’ll be safe now,” I told her. “I’ll take good care of you and love you and never let you go, Anna Maria.”

  As I whispered to the doll, Snowball tried to wedge himself between her and me. Putting his paws on the doll’s body, he kneaded her with his claws and meowed like a baby kitten.

  “No, Snowball.” I pushed him away. “You’ll tear her clothes.”

  Still meowing, the cat backed into the shrubbery, and when I reached for him, sorry I’d hurt his feelings, he edged farther away. I crawled toward him, but he turned and ran out of the garden. Holding Anna Maria tightly, I stumbled after him.

  “Snowball,” I whispered, keeping a fearful eye on Miss Cooper’s windows. “Kitty, kitty, kitty.”

  Slowly he walked across the grass, watching me over his shoulder as if he were asking me to come with him. When he reached the hedge separating Miss Cooper’s yard from the field next door, I stopped.

  “Come here, Snowball,” I said softly, but he stayed where he was and meowed plaintively.

  “I’m not going through that hedge,” I told him, “so you’d better come here.”

  I guess I spoke too loudly because Max started barking from somewhere in the house. Afraid of being caught by Miss Cooper, I turned and ran for the stairs. Up I went as quickly and as quietly as possible. Just as I reached the porch, I saw a light flash out of the open kitchen door below me.

  “Who’s there?” Miss Cooper yelled. Max bounded outside barking and ran toward the hedge, and I slipped into our kitchen, still clutching Anna Maria.

  Hoping the commotion wouldn’t wake Mom, I tiptoed into my room and peeked out the window. Max was circling the yard, sniffing and barking, but I was sure Snowball had his own secret places where Max would never find him.

  In a few minutes. Miss Cooper called Max back into the house, and all was quiet again.

  I got into bed and Oscar crept to my side. “This is Anna Maria,” I told him, holding the doll upright in front of him.

  To my surprise, Oscar’s back arched and his fur rose. He made a strange growling sound and retreated to the foot of the bed. Hesitating for a moment, he stared at Anna Maria. Then he leaped to the windowsill and refused to come near me or the doll.

  “Don’t let him hurt your feelings,” I whispered to Anna Maria. “He’s probably jealous of you.”

  Anna Maria gazed placidly at me^ her mouth slightly open, her tiny teeth showing. She looked as if she were about to take a deep breath and tell me all her secrets.

  I smoothed her hair and laid her down beside me. “Who is Carrie?” I whispered. “And why did she bury you?”

  But Anna Maria closed her eyes and said nothing.

  I closed my eyes, too, happy to have Anna Maria beside me. But just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard it again. Outside in the night, a child was crying.

  Frightened, I sat up and looked out the window. Down on the lawn, in hill view, I saw Snowball. He was looking up at me, and for the first time I noticed he cast no shadow on the moonlit grass.

  Chapter 8

  Secrets

  WHEN I WOKE UP, the first thing I saw was Anna Maria’s pale face beside me on my pillow. Admiring her beauty, I smoothed her hair and straightened her white dress.

  Cuddling her close to my chest, I knew I didn’t want to share her with anybody. Not Kristi. Not Mom. I wanted to keep her for myself. Quietly slipping out of bed, I went over to my dresser. I laid Anna Maria in the bottom drawer and covered her carefully with my sweaters. No one would find her there, I thought.”

  While I pulled on clean shorts and a tee shirt, I remembered what I’d seen last night. Had Snowball really cast no shadow? Even in the morning sunlight, I shivered a little thinking about it. I must have been mistaken, I told myself. Moonlight is tricky; it can fool you into imagining all sorts of silly things.

  Grabbing a brush and comb, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

  “You’re up bright and early, Ash,” Mom said. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I heard that sound again—like somebody crying,” I said. “And Max was barking—didn’t you hear him?”

  “You know me,” Mom said. “They could drop an atomic bomb next door
and it wouldn’t disturb me.”

  “That’s because you stay up so late working,” I said. “You should go to bed earlier.”

  Mom shook her head. “The sooner I finish my dissertation, the sooner I’ll get a job,” she reminded me.

  I chewed my English muffin and watched Mom pour cream into her coffee. If only Daddy were here, I said without thinking. As soon as the words slipped out I felt my eyes fill up with tears, and I pressed my hand against my mouth, too late to take back what I’d said.

  Mom reached across the table to pat my arm. I wish he were here, too, Ashley she said softly. “Don’t feel bad for saying you miss him. I miss him too. It’s okay to talk about him.”

  But I couldn’t talk about Daddy. Not to Mom, not to anybody. He’d left such a big hole in my life, I knew nothing could ever fill it up. Just saying his name made the hole bigger, so it was better to say nothing.

  Pulling away from the comfort Mom was offering me, I went back to my bedroom and took a book from the shelf under the window. I didn’t want to see Kristi, not now that Anna Maria lay hidden in my dresser drawer.

  …

  It wasn’t long, though, before I heard Kristi calling me. When I didn’t answer, she came to the back door and knocked. Mom let her in and sent her down the hall to my room.

  “Ashley, something awful has happened,” Kristi said. “Anna Maria’s gone!”

  I stared at her, trying my best to look surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “I went to the garden first thing this morning, and all I found was the empty box.” Kristi’s eyes glistened with tears, and I struggled to keep myself from feeling sorry for her.

  “I thought you weren’t ever going there again,” I said, reminding her of what she’d told me yesterday.

  “I was worried all night about Anna Maria,” Kristi explained. “I could hardly sleep for thinking about her lying there by herself in the dark. And I kept hearing that crying and I got to imagining it was her, Anna Maria, crying for me to get her and bring her inside. So the minute I woke up, I went out and looked for her, but she was gone!”