Shade and Shadow

by Theresa Jenner Garrido

  Randy closed the book with an audible snap as a daring thought struck her. She’d find Evangeline and ask her point blank what she knew about the whole affair. She only hoped the older woman would remember that long ago.

  Leaving her room, Randy headed down the hall toward the back stairs. At the top she listened to see whether the maid was downstairs in the kitchen. The only noise coming from the kitchen was Esther singing a church hymn.

  Deciding to try the third floor where the maid had her quarters, Randy took the uncarpeted back stairs two at a time. She’d never been to the third floor and was a little apprehensive at what she’d find. The hallway was much narrower than the second floor and quite a bit warmer. The walls were paneled in some dark wood, which made the passage dim and even spookier than the rest of the house. The uncarpeted floorboards creaked as Randy walked over to the first closed door and knocked. “Hey...Evangeline? Are you up here?”

  Behind her, a door opened and shut and Randy whirled around. Uncle Arthur stood staring down at her like he was seeing a ghost. “Miranda?”

  “Uncle Arthur. You startled me. Have you seen Evangeline?”

  The older man took out the ever-present limp handkerchief and mopped at his perspiring face. Looking over Randy’s head, he stammered, “Uh, I believe Evangeline is sitting with Mother.”

  “Oh, thanks. I need to ask her something,” Randy turned to leave, but her uncle clutched her shoulder.

  “M-Miranda...you shouldn’t be up here, dear. There’s, uh, nothing...nothing up here for you. This floor is off-limits...you understand. Evangeline has her room on this floor, and we don’t want to disturb her or make her feel we are intruding. We like to, uh...to give her some privacy. You understand?”

  Randy looked at her uncle, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. “Sure, of course, Uncle Arthur. I understand. Sorry.”

  He patted her shoulder. “Yes, my dear, I know, I know. You run along now. That’s a good girl.”

  Randy took the stairs to the second floor, two at a time—indifferent to the noise she made. At the bottom step, she paused to digest what had just happened. This family was an enigma, pure and simple. Every other minute something happened to freak her out. They were totally not of this century. Straight out of a third-rate, gothic novel. The performance was almost a cliché. If she didn’t know better, she’d think there was clandestine taping going on for a weird reality TV show. She had to get to the bottom of this—find the answers to her million and one questions—before she went certifiably nuts herself. Lord, maybe insanity did run in the family.

  Still perturbed, she stepped up to her grandmother’s closed door and, drawing in a quick breath, rapped. She heard a faint rustling of something, and then the door opened a crack. Evangeline’s chocolate-brown face peered out.

  “Hi, Evangeline. I need to ask you something very important, but maybe this isn’t the right time,” Randy tried to see into the dimly lit bedroom.

  “Well...I s’pose you can come in. Yo’ grandmama be asleep and nothin’ gon wake her up when she go under.” The older woman ushered her inside and motioned for her to sit on a small, embroidered chair, away from the diminutive figure snoring in its nest of pillows. “What be so important that you gotta sees me, chil’?”

  “I-I’ve been reading my mother’s diary,” Randy whispered. “And, well, she wrote about Elizabeth and, well...I want to know what you know about the whole thing.”

  “E-li-za-beth…” the old woman’s eyes grew round as she mouthed the word. She brought two trembling hands up to her lips. “Oh, chil’...I can’t speak no words ‘bout that.”

  “Why? Evangeline, I’ve got to know. Mother wrote something about a doctor Elizabeth was seeing which angered Uncle Arthur. Do you know who the doctor was?”

  At this, Evangeline buried her face in her hands and moaned. Then sliding her hands down her smooth cheeks, she peered over her fingers at Randy as though Randy were the devil himself. “Ooh, child...you don’ wanna know. Don’ make me tell nothin’. You be goin’ where you don’ belong.”

  Randy squirmed in frustration. “Okay, okay...can you at least tell me this doctor’s name? Please, Evangeline, I really need to know.”

  The older woman covered her face again and began rocking back and forth. “Sistuh Luke. Sistuh Luke be th’ one.”

  “The doctor’s name is Sister Luke?”

  “Yes’m…that be what she go by.”

  Before Randy could give her thanks, a tiny, hoarse voice interrupted their intense whispering. “Who’s there? I wanna know who’s there.”

  Evangeline gasped and rushed over to the bed where Grandmother was trying to sit up. The wizened little crone fixed her piercing, raisin eyes on Randy and waved her over. “Come here. I wanna see you. Come closer.”

  Randy obeyed, her eyes glued on the old lady. “Hi, Grandma...I’m Randy...E-Emily’s daughter.”

  “I know who you are. I ain’t stupid, you know. I recognize you. You look exactly like your mother, you do. Except the nose. Your nose is bigger than hers. They treating you all right downstairs? My Amanda can make lemonade with nary a lemon in sight. They better be treating you all right.”

  Randy licked her lips. “Uh, yes, they are, Grandma...thanks.”

  “Just remember...the moon waxes and the moon wanes. A lie has no legs and must be propped up by yet another lie. Don’t you forget that.”

  “I...I won’t, Grandma.”

  “Good. Now get out of here. An old woman needs her rest, and young people are too noisy for my tastes. Come visit me tomorrow. You hear me? Oh. And tell that Elizabeth I want to see her. I’m sick to death of her avoiding me like the plague.”

  “E-Elizabeth? Uh, she...she’s away right now…”

  “Fine. I’ll talk to her later, then, but I’m sick and tired of her trying to avoid me. She married my son. It ain’t my fault they can’t get along.”

  “Y-yes, ma’am. Good-by, Grandma, sleep well.”

  “Humph.”

  With only a glance at Evangeline’s fretful face, Randy hurried out of the room into the relative brightness of the hallway. For a minute she was too stunned to know what to do next, then she decided she needed the bright homeliness of the kitchen and some of Esther’s cheerful warmth and comfort food.

  ELEVEN

  At 2:30 the tide was high enough to take the boat out. Randy made sure she had her watch on so she wouldn’t go over her allotted hour. There was no way she was going to risk losing the privilege of using the boat. Calling Willadee from her room, Randy danced in place as she waited for her cousin to appear. Willadee hesitated at first but after some intense pleading from Randy gave in and meekly followed her downstairs. Aunt Amanda met them in the foyer.

  “Now be sure to have your floatation devices with you and watch your speed...remember, no wake. Stay on the beach...no going into the water.”

  “What?”

  “Watch your tone of voice, missy. I said no going out into the water.”

  “But…”

  “Do you or do you not want to go to the beach?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then go. There is to be no swimming, however. It is too dangerous. Be back in one hour.”

  Randy’s nod was a quick jerk, and she fought the impulse to salute. Turning on her heel, she grabbed her cousin by the arm, and dragged her out the door. They ran across the wide yard and down the path to the dock. Randy helped Willadee into the boat, unwound the line, and then jumped into the stern.

  “Jeez. I cannot believe this. No swimming? Incredible. No, make that insane.”

  Willadee just shrugged.

  Randy made a face then started the motor and pushed away from the dock. Staying to the middle of the narrow estuary, she guided the boat down the twisting channel. It was a piece of cake.

  Cord grass covered the low banks on either side. Green-head flies buzzed around their heads, and Willadee swatted at them furiously. A weird, hyena-like cry coming from the depths of the marsh, made t
hem both cringe, then laugh at their foolishness. It had only been a clapper rail—the furtive little salt marsh hen that favors hiding in the tall marsh grass to exposing herself.

  “There’s a ghost for you,” Randy shouted over the dull thrum of the motor.

  A flicker of a smile graced Willadee’s face then she retorted, “Could be...but I still don’t think you should joke about it so much.”

  Birds were everywhere. The girls spotted bluebirds and mockingbirds, terns and curlews. One cocky fellow with a bright orange-red beak was unfamiliar to Randy, and she pointed to him. “What’s that?”

  Willadee was prompt with her reply, “That’s an oyster catcher. They’re neat-looking, aren’t they?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Passing one of the narrower, shallower estuaries, Randy spied a small bed of oysters. “Wow. There’re oysters over there—easy pickings. Wish we could get some.”

  “I don’t think we’re supposed to. We’ll have to ask Daddy...he’ll know...and then maybe we could get some next time.”

  “That would be so awesome. Gosh, you could be self-sufficient out here. Get your food from the marsh and the sea, and grow the rest in a garden. Sweet.”

  Randy felt better than she had in a long time. She loved being in a boat, out on the water—it didn’t matter where. With a skillful touch, she guided the little boat along until, up ahead, a stretch of sandy beach was visible.

  “There it is.” Randy waved her hand. “Look, Willadee. The ocean.”

  Shutting off the motor, Randy let the boat’s momentum take them into shore, then hopped out into ankle-deep water. She ordered her cousin to follow, and Willadee stepped gingerly out of the boat and waded to shore. Randy hauled the boat onto the beach and imbedded the anchor deep in the sand. Wiping her hands on the seat of her shorts, she looked around.

  “Oh, man. Would you look at all the shells. This is so awesome.” Randy glanced at her watch. “Okay, it’s a quarter to three. Help me remember to be back in the boat at a quarter after three, okay?”

  Willadee nodded. With a loud whoop, Randy reached for her cousin’s hand and pulled her along in a mad dash across the warm sand. Scattered all along the beach, like some giant had dropped them, were shells of all kinds. Big, colorful whelks, slender olives, decorative scallops, and bleached-white arks were there for the picking. Randy’s pockets were bulging after only a few minutes, and she kicked herself for not bringing a sack along.

  Randy was bent over in the familiar stoop of the beachcomber when Willadee called her. She looked up, shading her eyes from the bright, afternoon sun. Her cousin gestured at her watch then pointed to the boat. Randy’s heart sank. Time to head back. Sighing, she trotted to the boat. In minutes, they were on their way.

  Relishing the feel of wind on her hot cheeks, Randy sucked in a deep breath then released it. The little motor purred them along like it knew the way. She cocked her head and gave her cousin a wry grin. “Thanks for coming, Willadee. I sure hope you’ll do it again.”

  Willadee smiled, her hair blowing out behind her like a flag. “Yes, I had a good time, too. I really do like the beach; it’s the marsh I’m not so keen about. I’m not worried any more. You handled the boat like a pro. I’ll go with you, any time you want. Or, I should say, any time Auntie lets us.”

  “Super.” Randy shouted, scaring an egret into abandoning its resting spot. “And as for dear auntie letting us...well, that’s something I need to work on. This living with one foot in the nineteenth century and the other in the twenty-first...well, let’s just say it’s a teeny bit disconcerting. I’m just plain not used to it.”

  Aunt Amanda was waiting for them when they returned. She called them into the living room, and they obeyed although Randy had to squelch another desire to salute. “So, you had a good time, I take it?”

  Both girls nodded and Randy added her thanks for allowing her to use the boat and then asked, “I’d really like to go swimming next time, Aunt Amanda. I assure you I can swim.”

  “Two girls swimming alone in the ocean is unthinkable.”

  “But we’ll just be playing in the waves near the shore. Aunt Amanda, please. You don’t know how excruciating it is to be this close to the ocean and not be in it. It’s hot. I’m not used to this muggy heat.”

  Aunt Amanda sighed and Randy could have sworn a smile played on her lips for a fleeting moment. “I will talk it over with the others,” her aunt said with a sigh. “I will let you know. Now, you need to go upstairs, bathe, and take a rest.”

  Shades of Scarlett O’Hara. A rest. Next they’d be donning corsets and swooning on fainting couches. Randy bit her tongue and followed Willadee up the stairs to their rooms. She stopped at her door and whistled to Willadee, who was stepping into her own room. “Hey, Will...wait a sec. I want to ask you something.” She stepped closer to her cousin. “Have you, by any chance, heard of someone named Sister Luke?”

  By the sudden stiffening of Willadee’s entire body, Randy knew she’d hit a nerve. Willadee buttoned her eyes and muttered to herself.

  “Willadee, what is it? What’s the matter?”

  Willadee’s eyes snapped open. She didn’t look at Randy but at something behind her—something only she could see. “Wh-where...did...you hear...about her?”

  “From Evangeline. Why? Who is Sister Luke? All I know is that she had something to do with Elizabeth so I th…”

  “Be quiet. I told you not to get too curious. Why are you so stupid? Do you want to die? Do you?”

  “Die. Willadee, what’s the matter with you?”

  “Leave it alone. I told you. You don’t want to go there. You don’t. Forget you heard anything about Sister Luke. Promise me you will. Promise.”

  Randy stepped back from her cousin’s rising hysteria and reached behind for her doorknob. “Willadee…you’re acting crazy. You can’t just tell me to stop being curious. If you would sit down and tell me why you’re so upset, I’d listen.”

  Willadee covered her face with both hands. “I can’t...I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you? I promise I’ll listen.”

  Willadee’s eyes peered through her splayed fingers. “I can’t...because...I’m so afraid. You don’t know anything about voodoo.” With a swallowed sob, she ran into her room and closed the door. An ominous click told Randy that she’d locked it.

  Voodoo? You’re kidding. Randy went into her bedroom, shut the door, then leaned against it, deep in thought. Not moving from the spot, she surveyed the room. There was the pretty spread covered in spring flowers, the light, airy curtains, which billowed delicately with every passing breeze, the collection of things her mother had treasured. She was beginning to love this room. Like the kitchen, it was a haven from the gloom and doom of the rest of the house—and its dour occupants. She bit her lip, grasping for straws of understanding.

  A light knock from behind startled her. She reached around and opened the door, surprised to see Willadee. Her cousin looked white around the mouth, like she was going to be sick, so Randy pulled her into the room and pushed her over to the bed. “Let’s sit up here. You look awful, Willadee. Please tell me what this is all about.”

  Willadee grabbed a pillow and wrapped her arms around it, hugging it against her. The poor girl trembled. After a few sniffs and a clearing of her throat, Willadee spoke.

  “I’ll tr-try to tell you...just to make y-you see the d-danger.” She cleared her throat again. “Two summers ago...when I was fourteen...I had an acne problem…” She paused. When she didn’t speak again, Randy snorted.

  “Yeah, so. Lots of kids have acne. I’ve had my share of zits.”

  Willadee’s chuckled held no mirth. “Yes, but lots of kids don’t go to witchdoctors to cure it.”

  “You’re kidding, right? A witchdoctor? Where can you find a witchdoctor in the good ol’ U. S. of A.? I mean, do we have that kind of stuff here? I keep telling you this is the twenty-first century.”

  “Yes, I know. But they exist, even today.” Will
adee shuddered. “Oh, yes...and what they do is very real and very dangerous. I should know.”

  “So, tell me, already. I need to know everything...every last sordid detail.”

  “Okay, okay…” She cleared her throat. “That same summer, Evangeline fell on some stairs and twisted her ankle. She couldn’t work for a while so a friend of hers...Martha Somebody...came here to take her place. It was only going to be for a few weeks…” Willadee’s voice trailed off as she stared into space.

  “Go on,” Randy nudged her cousin, “finish your story.”

  “Well...she...Martha...heard me crying in my room one morning and asked if she could help me. At first, I said no, but she insisted she could help me if I’d...if I’d only tell her what the problem was... So I did.”

  “And?”

  “And...she told me about a doctor she knew in town who could clear up the acne practically overnight. She told me stories of people she’d seen cured of all sorts of deadly things so I thought acne wouldn’t be so difficult to treat...and...I agreed...to visit this doctor. Sh-she gave me directions and...and, so, I arranged a ride into town...and...and saw the doctor.”

  “The doctor was this Sister Luke?”

  “Oh, yes...the doctor was Sister Luke. She made up a charm...a conjure charm...for me to wear, and she said it would work in two days, but that I had to wear the charm all day and all night.”

  “Wow. Did it work?”

  “I...I really don’t know. That night I came down with a high fever...was delirious all night, screaming out things that didn’t make sense...really bizarre stuff. My parents were frightened to death, and then they discovered the thing I wore around my neck and immediately took it off.”

  “Did they know what it was?”

  “I’m not sure. They never talked about it, and, anyway, I got better soon after. The next day I was more concerned with keeping down a soft boiled egg and ginger ale than I was with a few pimples.”