Shade and Shadow
Page 8
Randy cocked her head to one side and studied her cousin for a moment. “Okay...that’s a neat story, but...it’s not scary enough to make you act the way you’ve been acting. So you went to a crazy lady in town, and she gave you some mumbo-jumbo...so what? You never saw her again, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.” Willadee pressed her face into the pillow she still held in a death-grip. “But I remember the dreams I was having that night. I never told my parents...or anybody...what they were about, but they were awful. Awful. In my delirium, I saw Elizabeth. Not only saw her, but was her. I felt myself sinking into the marsh. I felt it. I know exactly what it feels like to have the oozing, black muck up to your chin...to smell the rotten odor. To taste it. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. And then, mercifully, I woke up, and Mama and Daddy were there, and Aunt Amanda and everybody just concentrated on getting me well. They said I’d had the flu or something, and that was that.”
Randy, resting her chin on her upright knees, didn’t say anything for over a minute nor did she look at her cousin. She was too busy digesting this unbelievable story. Finally, she thrust out her chin and let a long, pent-up breath escape.
“Oookay. That’s it.” Randy exclaimed, as if she’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery.
“What’s it?”
“You and I are going to pay a little visit to Sister Luke.”
“Oh, Miranda, no.”
“Oh, Miranda, yes. We’ll go together, face that old quack, and demand some answers. She had something to do with Elizabeth’s accident, if only indirectly, and we...you and I...are going to find out just exactly what that was. We may even report her to the authorities.”
“Oh, Miranda, I...I don’t know...I’m deathly afraid of the woman. What if she puts some kind of spell on us? I know her power. I can’t. I can’t go. And besides, Elizabeth’s accident happened twenty years ago. Isn’t there something called a statute of limitations? Please forget it, Miranda. Please. I only told you so you wouldn’t be so curious. Please. Just forget the whole thing.”
Randy jumped up from the bed and ran over to her window seat. She stared out the window for several minutes, then turned to face her cousin. “Nope. With you or without you, I am going to see Sister Luke...if she’s still around. I am going to find out what happened to Elizabeth. I never told you, but I’ve been having my own dreams. Just last night, someone...I think it was a woman...was here in this room, kind of drifting around. I was scared pea-green.”
“A woman. Here? Oh, my god. Who was it?”
“I don’t know. She...it...was all covered in this creepy flowing black robe so I couldn’t see what she looked like or anything. Besides, I was freaking.”
“Oh, Miranda. But how did you know it was a woman if you couldn’t see?”
“Because she wore perfume...a subtle scent of roses was in the air. Guys don’t wear perfume smelling like freshly picked roses.”
“Oh, Lord...could it have been Elizabeth’s ghost? Oh, why is this happening? Why?”
“I don’t have the foggiest. All I know is that I need to get to the bottom of it, and I will. I don’t like creepy people...dead or alive...haunting me in my room at night.”
“Oh, Miranda...please don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t talk so flippantly about such things.”
“Oh, Will. Come on. I don’t believe it really was a ghost. It was a very alive, very human person, who happens to favor floral perfumes, just trying to scare me. Although why, I haven’t a clue.”
“Oh, Miranda…”
Randy crossed her arms and faced her cousin. “I didn’t tell you this before because I didn’t know what to say, and I knew you’d flip, but the first night I was here, I saw someone dressed in a black robe-like coat walking out in the yard, among the trees. There was enough moonlight to see, sort of, and I sure as heck thought it…”
“Then it was Elizabeth.”
“Of course it wasn’t Elizabeth. She’s dead.”
“I know, I know. It was her ghost. She’s haunting us...or at least, poor Uncle Arthur. Oh, Lord.” The last word swelled in decibels.
“Oh, give it up, Willadee.”
“But you don’t know for sure. It could’ve been her ghost. I’ve read up on the subject, and there are definite occurrences for which the authorities have no explanation.”
“Okay, for the sake of argument, why is she haunting us...er, Uncle Arthur? Why? Can you tell me that?”
“I don’t know. Their marriage was falling apart. She’s restless, troubled...she had a violent, horrible death, she…”
“Baloney.”
“How can you say that? After all that you’ve seen. What else can it be? It certainly wasn’t my mother, and Aunt Amanda would be the last one to be out there after dark wearing a long, ratty bathrobe.”
“Hmmm...okay...okay...if it’s a ghost then how about Miranda? She’s a great big question mark, too, you know. She could be haunting this moldy old place.”
“Oh, my god. I never thought of her. Yes. It could be her ghost. Ohh, this is awful.”
“And again I say baloney.”
“But, w-who else would do such a thing but a-a ghost?”
“I...don’t..know...but, it wasn’t a ghost...Elizabeth’s or Miranda’s. It can’t have been. Something really weird is going on around here, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it. There are too many mysteries in this old place. You guys are paranoid to the max.”
“Oh, Miranda, please.”
“Yes. There are, you are, and I am.”
The two cousins refrained from saying another word as each reflected on what the other had said. Eyes locked. Willadee’s cheeks were chalk white while Randy’s flushed a flaming pink. Neither one was about to give in.
TWELVE
Randy slept in the next morning. The “ghost” hadn’t paid a second visit, but she’d tossed and turned, nevertheless. When she opened one eye to glance at the little clock, she was shocked to see it was almost nine. Throwing back her covers, she hopped out of bed and threw on some clothes. She had a full day ahead of her and didn’t want to waste a minute of it.
By the time she got to the dining room, Aunt Amanda and Uncle Arthur were the only ones there. Both read sections of the morning newspaper and sipped coffee. Randy said a polite good morning, then helped herself to some toast and jam from the buffet. Her aunt folded her paper and looked at Randy with expectation written all over her hollow cheeks.
“How are you this morning, Miranda? Sleep well?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Very good. So, what are your plans today? Are you and Willadee going out in the boat again?”
“Ah, no, we hadn’t planned on it. I’d like to go into town, if I may...to get a few things I need from the drugstore. Would it be possible for me to borrow one of the cars?”
Her aunt sighed, took a sip of her coffee, and then shook her head. “No, my dear, you may not borrow one of the cars. That would be out of the question.”
“I have my license, Aunt Am…”
“My answer was audible and coherent, I presume?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. If you need something from town, Arthur or Mr. Benet can get it.”
Randy stifled a retort and counted to ten. “Aunt Amanda...there are a few, uh, necessities I need from the drugstore...things I’d rather not share with Uncle Arthur or Hen...uh, Mr. Benet. I’m sure you understand, Auntie.”
The older lady looked momentarily stunned then nodded briskly. “Of course. A trip into our quaint seaside town might be a pleasant diversion for you. Your uncle can drive you into town, where you can make your purchases. How would that be?”
Randy counted to ten again, swallowed, cleared her throat, and then put on her brightest smile. “That would be fine. Thank you, Aunt Amanda.”
“Yes...yes...I would be happy to drive you into our little town,” Uncle Arthur offered from behind his paper.
He peered around his paper. “Oh, I...I think eleven o’clock would...would be fine.”
“Great. I’ll meet you by the car at eleven,” Randy buttered a wedge of toast and smeared raspberry jam over it. She ate as quickly as Aunt Amanda’s presence would allow, then excused herself and hurried upstairs. She wanted to ask Evangeline one more question—a question that couldn’t be overheard.
“Evangeline? Evangeline, are you up here?” Randy called as she trotted down the long hallway. Willadee opened her door and stuck her head out.
“Why do you want Evangeline, Miranda?”
Randy looked directly at her cousin. “You know why. I need to know where to find Sister Luke. Uncle Arthur is taking me into town.”
“Oh…”
“If you came, too, I wouldn’t have to bother poor Evangeline about it. That subject has a sickening effect on her...poor dear.”
Willadee buttoned her eyes shut and leaned against her doorjamb. On impulse, Randy reached out and patted her arm. “Oh, Willadee, please go with me. I promise we won’t do anything stupid. Charms and spells only work if you’re superstitious enough to believe in them. I happen to believe that God will protect me and no spell will work. You believe in God, don’t you?”
Willadee nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Then go with me. I’m meeting Uncle at the car at eleven o’clock. Maybe we can arrange it so he gives us the whole afternoon to browse in the tourist traps and get a burger or whatever. How’s that sound? Better than sitting all day in your stuffy old room, right?”
Willadee, still leaning against the doorjamb, sighed. “Okay, Miranda...I’ll go.”
After much cajoling, the girls were able to convince Aunt Amanda and Aunt Carolina that they needed some ‘down-time’ in town. Aunt Carolina gave in right away. It took another full minute before Aunt Amanda, with a long sigh of resignation, capitulated. Uncle Arthur would drop them off in front of the Piggley Wiggley where he would meet them again at four o’clock. On the dot. They agreed.
The drive into town took seventeen minutes, and he dropped them off as planned at the local grocery store. Before driving away, Uncle Arthur fumbled for his wallet, took out a few bills, handed each girl a twenty, then told them to have a good time. At first Randy refused, saying she had her own, but the older man insisted so she accepted the money with a wide smile. If her uncle knew what they were up to, he might not be so gracious. Only by telling herself that it was for a good cause—the sanity of the family—was she able to keep smiling.
As Uncle Arthur drove away, Willadee shook her head and chuckled. “Well, that was just about the strangest thing yet.”
Randy cocked her head. “Why?”
“Why? Because Uncle Arthur isn’t usually so generous with money. He keeps watch over it like an old miser. You’ve worked some pretty amazing magic on this family, Miranda.”
Randy made a face and surveyed her surroundings. “Chalk up a point for my side. And, speaking of magic—let’s get this ball rolling. Okay—you know the town. Where do we go? We’ll get the voodoo stuff over with first.”
“Please don’t be flippant about it. It’s not going to be as easy as you think—God or no God.”
“Okay, sorry. You lead the way. It should only take a few minutes and then we can do the shops and eat lunch and let our hair down. Let’s go.”
Willadee led the way. They backtracked to the edge of town where a wide marsh separated the sleepy seaside village from the rest of the island. Few cars passed them as they walked single file across the bridge and down the dusty road. Finally, Willadee stopped at the head of a long driveway, choked with weeds and jungle-like growth.
“Down there?” Randy swallowed. “We have to go down there? I’m already beat and that looks hardly walkable.”
“Yes—I told you it wasn’t going to be all fun and games.”
“Okay—no problem. Underneath all that vegetation it’s just a dirt road. Can’t be too long. I’ll get my second wind. C’mon, let’s get this over with,” Randy said with forced determination.
The road made several twists and turns like a writhing snake. The weeds were waist high in most places, and the snake analogy was better left unsaid. Randy found her eyes hopping from one side of the road to the other in fearful anticipation of the dreaded reptiles. If there were any poisonous snakes around, this was where they’d be. The underbrush strangled the narrow road. It didn’t look like a car had been down it in a long time—if ever. The only sounds heard under the thick canopy of Live oaks, draped with long beards of olive-green Spanish moss, were the buzzing and whining of insects. Lots of insects.
After what seemed like miles, and a thousand startled heartbeats, the eerie gray shadows gave way to a clearing. A small, clapboard house, painted in hideous hues of magenta, yellow, and indigo-blue, rested on a crumbling foundation of tabby—the cement made from lime, sand and oyster shells. It looked to Randy like a gruesome, ornate spider, biding time for its prey.
“Wow, would you look at that,” Randy nudged her cousin.
“Yes. Awful, isn’t it?”
The house was yellow with bright blue window casings, shutters, and door. Hanging from the shocking pink railing that framed the sagging porch were bundles of feathers, seed pods, and things Randy didn’t recognize. Seashells of every size and shape formed a border that circled the house. It was deathly quiet.
“Okay...let’s do it.” Randy puffed out her cheeks then marched up the four porch steps and knocked. The door swung open. With a glance at Willadee, Randy sucked in a breath, cracked her neck, then stepped across the threshold. A nebulous voice invited her to sit down. Choosing a chair close to the door, Randy sat, her heart doing a great Lord of the Dance number.
A rustling, swishing sound coming from the deep shadows made her stiffen. She held her breath as a willowy form took substance, and a dark-skinned woman floated into the room, followed by a subtle scent of roses. Her thick, dark curly hair was tied up in a brightly-colored headscarf. An equally bright caftan swirled around her slender ankles and bare feet, and her long, tapered fingers bore the weight of several gold and silver rings. Her wide smile displayed two rows of startling-white teeth.
“Hellooo....what have we here? A young tourist come to see the very bad voodoo doctor, hmmm?”
Randy swallowed the last of the saliva in her mouth. “P...Pardon me?”
“Oh, Sister Luke knows...you are not from around here. You are from off as we like to say.”
“Uh, no...I mean, yes, I’m visiting my aunts and uncles at The Shadows.”
Randy couldn’t tell if the woman flinched, or if it had only been a play of light, but when Sister Luke lifted her long, billowing sleeves and gestured toward the door, she knew something was up. “Tell your friend to come in,” she ordered.
Willadee, who’d been listening just outside the door, took a timid step over the threshold. As soon as her eyes rested on the frightened girl, Sister Luke smiled and threw her arms around her in a flamboyant display of affection. “I remember you. Such a sweet child. And look at you now, all grown up, with such a lovely complexion...all honey and cream. You need Sister Luke to make you another charm, sweet child? This, I can do...because I like you.”
“I...I…” Willadee struggled to get the words out but was too frightened to manage more than a stutter.
Randy jumped to her feet and faced the tall woman. “Sister Luke, my name is Randy. I’m Willadee’s cousin from Seattle. We don’t want any of your silly charms. All we want are answers to a few questions. We’re hoping you can help.”
“Answers? Answers to what questions, child?” Sister Luke floated over to a rocking chair and sank into it with ballerina-like fluidity. “What answers can you possibly want from me?”
“First of all, are you really Sister Luke? The Sister Luke who took care of Elizabeth Bainbridge?” Randy cut to the chase.
> The ebony-skinned woman nodded as she rocked—slowly and rhythmically—back and forth—back and forth. After a dozen mesmerizing seconds she nodded. “Yes, I am Sister Luke. The only Sister Luke that I know of...around these parts, anyway. Why?”
“But, you...you look like you’re only thirty-something. Elizabeth Bainbridge saw a Sister Luke over twenty years ago. You can’t be the same person.”
The woman’s slender hand made a circular gesture, encompassing all that was around her. One wall, lined with shelves, held bottles of all sizes—holding liquids of all colors. Jars lined still more shelves across the room, and various things hung suspended from the ceiling. Comical little corncob dolls crowded the windowsills, and dried snake skins were draped over the back of a wooden chair as though the latest fad in interior design. Unknown scents mixed with the delicate rose in the small room.
Randy licked dry lips and tried to interpret what she saw. “Just how old are you, Sister Luke, if it’s not too impolite to ask?”
“No, I don’t mind, child. I am fifty-three.”
“Fifty-three. You’re kidding. How do you do it...no. Never mind, I don’t want to know.” Randy hunched her shoulders and then relaxed them. “Okay. So you found the Fountain of Youth...that’s great. Can you tell us what happened to Elizabeth Bainbridge twenty years ago? I understand she was seeing you for some problem. Do you remember anything about it?”
Sister Luke rocked in silence, eyes closed, humming a soft, melodic tune. Randy watched her rock back and forth, back and forth until she had the vague feeling she’d better look away soon, or she’d sink into something far worse than marsh mud. She pulled her eyes away from the hypnotic rocking and glanced at her cousin. Willadee was staring, transfixed—her eyes wide and glassy. Randy punched her cousin’s arm hard. Willadee jumped a foot and rubbed her arm, glaring at her cousin in return.
“Well, do you?” Randy repeated. She wanted her answer, and she wanted it fast. The place was getting on her nerves.
Sister Luke stopped rocking and stared at her. “Yes, I remember Elizabeth Bainbridge,” she said, her tone cajoling. “I remember everything.” She paused for an electric moment then resumed. “Elizabeth’s soul was in turmoil. She was having marital problems, if I recall. Her husband refused to give her something she desperately wanted. That gave her untold grief. So she came to me...for my, ah, expertise, shall we say.”