“I…”
“Is that a promise, Miranda?”
Randy bit her lip. “Well, I’ll promise you this, I won’t fill Willadee’s head with nonsense. How’s that?”
“Great. Go out and ride your bikes. You girls have a good time. Talk your aunt into letting you go to the beach. Talk about boys and clothes and whatever else you females indulge in. See you later.”
Randy returned to the dining room where Aunt Amanda still sat drinking her coffee. She frowned at her niece but held her tongue. Randy ate her usual breakfast of toast and jam and drank a cup of coffee, laced with plenty of milk and sugar. After wiping her mouth with her napkin and folding it, she peered at her aunt. “Aunt Amanda, I don’t suppose going to the beach would be possible today, would it?”
Her aunt glanced out the window and shook her head. “No, I am afraid we are going to have another storm. The weather has not improved.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Well, I guess I’ll go up and read until Will gets up.”
Randy excused herself from the table. She knew her aunt watched her, fretting to know what she’d talked about with Colton, but showing amazing control.
As Randy trotted up the staircase, Uncle Arthur descended. He nodded, but could not quite make himself look her in the eye, even though she greeted him with a wide smile. On the landing, she met Aunt Carolina and Willadee. Her cousin looked pale.
“Hey, Will, you still feeling bad?”
Willadee nodded and her mother spoke for her. “Yes, she woke up with her headache again this mornin’. I want her to eat somethin’ then go back to bed. But you certainly look energetic and ready for the day.”
“I am. I was hoping we could go to the beach today, but the weather isn’t co-operating. And if Will’s sick…”
“Yes, I think she did too much yesterday.”
“Yes...well. Guess I’ll go to my room and read or something. Hope you feel better, Will.”
Randy entered her room with little enthusiasm. She walked over to the window and peered out. The sky was now a dark, oily mass. The gnarled and twisted oak trees morphed into grotesque beings cloaked in draping moss. The land absorbed the inky shadows like a paper towel soaking up grape juice. Feeling rather dejected, she went to the bookshelf and examined the titles that had once belonged to her mother. A complete set of Anne of Green Gables, assorted Nancy Drew mysteries, My Friend Flicka, and dozens of other titles—every genre.
Selecting a mystery by Dorothy Macardle, entitled The Uninvited, Randy stretched out on her bed, turned on the little bedside lamp and read. It was riveting from the start, and the growing darkness outside added to the climate of the story. Randy read until her eyelids felt heavy. Putting the book aside, she closed her eyes.
Wandering somewhere in a half-dream world, Randy sensed a presence—an intruder. And the scent of roses. She sat up with a start and blinked in a desperate attempt to get her bearings. Her eyes darted around the semi-dark room, but only familiar things were visible. No one in the room—no one wearing rose perfume. She lay back against her pillows and shuddered. Had she been dreaming, or had there really been someone in the room?
She picked up the book again then wondered whether a ghost story set in a house on the wild English seacoast was something she should be reading right now. Probably not.
The room felt lifeless. Not a breath of air anywhere. Randy left the bed and went to the window. The sky was still a roiling mass of inky-black, but no thunder rumbled and no lightning streaked across the sky. It was as though the earth held its breath in anticipation of the coming storm. She leaned against the casing, gazing out at the deepening shadows when she saw it. A dark-robed figure darted from tree to tree, heading in the direction of the old kitchen. Without thinking it through, Randy dashed out into the hall and was about to run down the main staircase when she skidded to a stop. She didn’t want to bump into Aunt Amanda or any other member of the family. On impulse, she sprinted down the hall to the back staircase.
Taking the stairs quickly but as quietly as she could, Randy paused on the bottom step, looking for Esther. She was nowhere to be seen, or heard. Taking the chance, she crossed the big kitchen and opened the back door. Pausing for only a moment, Randy raced across the lawn, into the weeds and underbrush, toward the old outbuilding.
She was drenched to the skin from perspiration by the time she’d pushed half a dozen yards through the tangled undergrowth and was berating herself for being so silly when she spied movement up ahead. She put her head down and made a mad dash toward the large oak that hid the fleeing phantom from her line of vision.
“Stop.” Randy yelled. “I see you, Sister Luke. Stop.”
Reaching the partial shelter of the giant live oak, Randy paused beneath it to catch her breath and make a quick survey of the woods around her. The hooded figure was gone.
“Darn it.” Randy muttered aloud. “I almost had you.”
Giving up, she turned to head back to the house—a grotesque shape in the eerie storm-induced darkness. Although there were lights on in a few rooms, they gave the impression of glowing eyes rather than inviting portals. But at least inside there were familiar people and things, warmth and comfort.
Not wanting to retrace her steps through the tangled weeds and dripping bushes, Randy circled the old kitchen and made her way over the relatively clear area that bordered the marsh. Mosquitoes and gnats began a savage attack, forcing her to wave her arms wildly above her head. Sounds behind her kept her turning every second for fear of being followed. After the fourth whirling about in acute trepidation, and not paying attention to where she was going, Randy felt her feet slip out from under her. Without knowing it, she’d stepped onto the muddy edges of the sprawling marsh.
Randy grabbled at the tall cordgrass to regain her balance, but it was too late. She fell backwards and landed in the slimy black mud. It felt like pudding and appeared to be the main entrée for a mosquito convention. Hordes of the biting insects enveloped her in a dense, stinging cloud.
She clawed at the muck, desperate to find something sturdy enough to help her stand. The cordgrass was no good, and nothing else solid nearby would support her weight. With a surge of desperation, Randy almost made it to a standing position before slipping again—this time even deeper into the stinking mire.
Thunder and lightning teased, and then the heavens opened and rain came down in torrents. As though the sediment around her cried for more liquid, the rain seemed eager to fill what could no longer hold a drop more. The marsh absorbed her. Water was everywhere. It dripped down her neck and into her eyes. It soaked her clothes and shoes. It was so dark, she couldn’t see more than a few yards ahead of her.
The thought of snakes and alligators loomed in her chaotic mind. And then, she had the ghastly sensation of sinking. Inch by inch, the oozing mud swallowed her.
Just like Elizabeth?
Randy screamed.
TWENTY-ONE
Randy didn’t know how long she’d been screaming before loud, anxious voices penetrated her blinding fear. Strong hands lifted her out of her bath of muck and pulled her onto firm ground. Looking up through tears mixed with rain and slime, she saw the concerned face of Henry Benet. Behind him a white-faced Aunt Amanda, held a large blanket and issued orders like a drill sergeant.
“Hurry up, Henry. She’ll be chilled to the bone.”
“Oh, God, I...I…” Randy burst into more tears as they wrapped her in the blanket and whisked her across the spongy lawn toward the house. At the open kitchen door, Esther and a frantic Carolina waited with bated breaths.
Once inside the warmth and dryness of the spacious kitchen, Aunt Amanda wheeled on her niece and exploded. “Why, for the love of God, were you thrashing around in the mud like a crazed animal?”
“I-I tried to get out. I k-kept slip…”
“What did you think you were doing? What would possess you to even think about going outside in a threatening storm? Miranda, you are going to be the de
ath of me.” The hand Amanda passed over her face trembled.
Randy stood by the door, dripping a widening pool of stinky, dark brown mud and water onto Esther’s spotless floor, and hugged the blanket closer. “I-I...I s-saw someone...out in the yard...and I, and I…”
“Saw someone? Who, for heaven’s sake?” Amanda’s eyes shot a question to Henry. He shook his head.
“I-I’m pretty sure it was a woman…”
“A woman? Oh, for heaven’s sake, Miranda. I have had about enough of your odd behavior.”
“My odd behavior? What have I done that’s so odd?”
“Your insistence on prowling around, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, prying into the past...oh, I refuse to argue with you. Take those filthy, wet things off and go immediately upstairs and shower. Then go to your room. We will discuss this later after you have had something warm to drink and a rest.”
Henry gave a brief bow and exited. Esther bustled around getting some chicken soup ready. Carolina patted Randy’s shoulder and helped her strip out of her shirt and shorts. Aunt Amanda turned on her heel and left the kitchen.
After a quick, hot shower and dry clothes, Randy felt better—physically. Emotionally, she was drained. She should have come right out and told her aunts about her conviction that someone up to no good was wandering around—someone like Sister Luke. Of course, then she’d have to go through the tedious explanation of how she even knew about the witch doctor, and that sure wouldn’t be a picnic in the park. The words ‘witch doctor’ and ‘Aunt Amanda’ were poles apart.
What should she do? She had to tell someone. But who, besides Willadee, would listen? Uncle Colton? No, he’d told her to drop the subject and not to bring it up again. Aunt Carolina? Probably not. She’d side with her husband. Randy sat down by the window and stared out at the dripping, rain-sodden grounds. She could call M.C., even if she was totally preoccupied with her San Francisco shopping spree, but, for some reason, that didn’t sound appealing. M.C. would understand—even sympathize—but something deep inside Randy told her that this little enigma was better kept in the family. She and M.C. had already spent hours laughing over her relatives’ idiosyncrasies, but, well, this was different somehow.
More rumblings could be heard in the distance. The storm loomed closer. It looked like they were in for a night of thunder and lightning, and even more rain. Surely Sister Luke wouldn’t attempt to go out in it again—unless she had a death wish.
When over an hour had passed, and no one had come knocking on her door to further admonish her, Randy grew restless. Did they expect her to just sit in her room for the rest of the afternoon? That was inconceivable. She had to do something. She couldn’t sit here any longer and do absolutely nothing. And, darn it. She didn’t feel like reading.
The fear that had held her in its macabre grip vanished. In its place—anger. It was her own careless fault that she’d stumbled into the marsh. She knew that. But, on the other hand, the disappearing wraith had been responsible, too. The elusive figure, sneaking around like that, had lured her over to the treacherous quicksand. She had to do something. Now. This sitting around was useless.
Randy opened her bedroom door and peered out. No sign of anybody about. The upstairs was as quiet as a church—or a mausoleum. She stepped out of her room and crept down the hall to her cousin’s room. She knocked twice and then walked in. To her dismay, Willadee was asleep, oblivious to the spectacular scene that had played outside her window and to the ordeal her cousin had been put through.
Disappointed, Randy tiptoed out, letting the door close behind her with a soft click. She stood in the hall, debating what to do next. Like the charged air outside, she felt electrified and needed to do something. She decided to go up to the third floor room. To heck with her aunt’s admonition about using it. She wasn’t going to touch a thing, just look out the window. She’d get a great view of the storm from there, if nothing else. She was already in her aunt’s bad graces and had nothing to lose. And there just might be something very important to gain.
Nobody was around as she climbed the uncarpeted stairs to the third floor. Without hesitating, she opened the door to the playroom and walked in. Heading for the lamp, she reached out to turn it on.
Randy’s hand jerked back as though stung. The lamp was warm. That meant it’d been on. Who would’ve come up to this room and turned on the little lamp? Nobody used this room. Nobody had for over thirty years. She and Willadee were the only ones interested—except for Uncle Arthur. She had seen Uncle Arthur come out of this room once, hadn’t she? Why? What reason would he have for coming in here?
Her eyes scanned the room, seeking any clue she could find—anything out of place—not where it should be. Nothing. It appeared to be just the way she and Willadee had left it the last time they’d been up here. But the lamp was warm, no getting around that. Someone had been in the third floor room. And not too long ago.
Randy made up her mind. She’d explore every inch of this room until she found a clue. The small lamp, however, didn’t give anywhere near the amount of light needed for her search. She’d have to get the lamp from her own room and her flashlight. With a grunt of satisfaction, she hurried downstairs to retrieve them.
And bumped head-into-chest with Uncle Arthur at the foot of the stairs.
Emitting a strangled squeal, Randy looked up at the older man and couldn’t help making a face. “Uncle Arthur. Ohmigod, you startled me.”
Facial tic doing a jig, he coughed and apologized. “So sorry...so sorry...didn’t expect to meet anyone...here...on these stairs...walked right into you, I did...sorry…”
Frantic for a convincing explanation and to calm his tirade, Randy licked her lips and made a vain attempt at laughter. “That’s hilarious...sheesh. I need to slow down a bit, don’t I? Always in a hurry. You’d think I was six...instead of sixteen…” Oh, Lord, she was as lame as he was.
“What...what were you doing up on the third floor? Evangeline is sitting with mother…”
“Oh nothing...nothing. Just went into the twins’ playroom to look out the window. Better view from there...you know. Willadee’s napping...nothing to do…”
Now the tic literally bounced. “Oh, dear...I don’t think Amanda...would like you in there...no...dear me, no…”
“Yeah, I know…”
“No...she wouldn’t like you there at all…” His face puckered as he thought for a moment. “You poor ladies...you need...you need a diversion.”
Randy grimaced.
“Yes, that’s it. You need a diversion. Did I understand correctly that you have a...have a drivers’ license?”
“Uh, yes...I do.”
“Ah, yes. Splendid. Then a car...a car is what you need. A car of your own...so you have the liberty of going out and about...out and about...to Charleston or Beaufort…”
Randy’s eyes widened. “A car? You’re kidding.”
“No...no...that’s what we will do. I will have Henry accompany me...and we will rent a small compact...yes, a small compact for your use...while you are with us. How would that be?”
Rendered almost speechless, Randy could only nod and murmur, “Great...that would be...great.”
Her uncle nodded. “Good, good...about time we catered to you...to you young ladies. Come along, dear. Come along. Don’t want Amanda catching us being naughty.”
Randy smiled, murmured something inarticulate and scuttled back to her room. Remaining just inside the door, she listened to her uncle’s footsteps as he made his way downstairs. Then when all was silent, she hurried to her cousin’s door, knocked twice, and let herself in. Willadee sat up in groggy surprise.
“Sorry for barging right in, but you won’t believe what I’ve been going through this afternoon.”
“What?”
Randy hopped onto the bed and drew up her knees. “Well, first off, I saw Sister Luke wandering the grounds again…”
“In this storm?”
“Yep. And I chased her
almost to the old kitchen where she up and disappeared on me. Then like a fool I went back on the path next to the marsh, slipped, fell in, and proceeded to make a complete ninny of myself, bringing down the wrath and ire of our dear aunt. I just lost it. All I could think about was poor Elizabeth sinking and, well, I was sent to my room like a misbehaving pre-schooler...thoroughly chastised.”
Willadee looked sympathetic although Randy thought she caught a glimmer of a smile twitch her lips.
“Yeah, but what’s even more important is I bumped into Uncle Arthur on my way down from the third floor playroom and…”
“What were you doing up there? Especially after incurring the aforementioned wrath and ire of our dear aunt.”
“I had nothing to do and wanted to see the grounds from a better vantage point. I’m determined to catch Sister Voodoo in the act. Anyway, I was coming back downstairs for a flashlight and...oh. I forgot to mention that the little lamp in the playroom was warm, so somebody’d just been up there. Anyway, I was coming downstairs and bumped smack dab into him.”
“Uh, oh…”
“Yeah. Good thing it wasn’t Aunt Amanda. Anyway, guess what?”
“What?”
“Well, dear ol’ Uncle Arthur says we gals need a diversion.”
“A diversion? He said that?”
“His exact words. And do you know what our little diversion is going to be?”
Willadee rolled her eyes. “Randy, please. Give me the condensed version. My head still aches.”
“Sorry. Okay. Uncle Arthur is renting a car for me to use while I’m here. He says we...you and I...can go into Charleston or someplace called Beaufor.”
Shade and Shadow Page 13
