"Please, Lissa, please!" I flung myself at her. "I beg you, we have to get out of here."
But Lissa evaded me and reached for the knob. "I have to open the door," she cried. "I have to!"
"That's right," Miss Lilian hissed, "she must open the door. She must, she must."
Despite my efforts, Lissa managed to turn the knob. The door swung open and slammed against the wall with a loud bang. Out poured a blast of cold air. It spun past us like a small cyclone of ice, taking the flowered hat with it, and whirled up the stairs, leaving us frozen speechless in the parlor doorway.
Suddenly, there she was, Miss Lilian herself, peering down at Lissa and me from the top of the stairs. She was just as I remembered—tall and gaunt, bent with arthritis, wrathful, hateful. Uncombed hair framed her pale face in thorny white brambles. Clutching her hat, she leaned over the railing and directed her gaze at me. "You! You!"
She stood there, her mouth moving as if she wanted to say more but could find no words. "You," she whispered. "You and your brother. Just wait!"
With a wail of fury, she turned and fled. Her gray silk dress rustled. Her footsteps clicked the way they always had. Then her bedroom door slammed shut, and she was gone.
In the sudden silence, I collapsed on the steps, weak with fear. Miss Lilian was free. Free to pursue Georgie and me, free to hurt us again and again. With her hunting us, we weren't safe anywhere on the farm. And we couldn't leave.
I glanced at Lissa. What had she done? I wanted to scream at her, to blame everything on her, but she sagged against the wall as if she'd never move again, her face colorless, her eyes unfocused. While I watched, she drew in her breath, opened her mouth, and began to scream.
Out of pity, I took Lissa's hand and pulled her to her feet. I ran and dragged her behind me, still screaming, stumbling and tripping and bumping into things as if she were blind.
"Faster!" I yelled, jerking her along. I didn't care if I was hurting her, I didn't care if I was scaring her. It was her fault. She'd brought me here, she'd insisted on seeing every room in the house, she'd opened the parlor door.
At last, we plunged outside into cold, fresh air smelling of nothing but rain. MacDuff leapt up from the terrace and bounded ahead across the weedy lawn, as anxious as we were to get away from the house.
Once safe in the trailer, we slammed the door against the wind and rain and whatever else might be out there. Without speaking, we huddled on the sofa, wet and cold and shaking. MacDuff cowered between us, as scared as we were. Mr. Morrison wasn't back from Home Depot—which was a good thing, considering Lissa's hysterical weeping.
"Oh, Diana," she cried, "I saw her, I saw Miss Willis! She ran up the stairs, she, she—" Lissa's sobs overcame her and she buried her face in MacDuff's fur.
"Why didn't you listen to me?" I tried hard not to shout at her, but my voice rose anyway. "I told you not to go in the house, I told you not to open that door!"
Lissa rocked back and forth, crying and moaning. "I couldn't help it, my hand just went to the doorknob. I couldn't stop myself. And she got out. She—"
"She didn't just get out. You let her out!"
"But I didn't mean to. I told you. It was like my hand, my hand—" Lissa raised her head from MacDuff's back and looked at her hand as if it didn't belong to her. "She made me do it, Diana."
I stared at her. Maybe it was true. Ghosts sometimes possessed people. I'd seen it happen in movies, so maybe it happened in real life, too. "If you'd just listened to me—"
Lissa started crying again. "It wasn't my fault."
I slumped down on the sofa and stared at the window, sheeted with rain. MacDuff whimpered and licked my hand, and I stroked his head. Though I didn't like to admit it, I'd started all this by making friends with Lissa. It wasn't her fault. It was mine. I had no right to be angry with her.
Lissa leaned closer to me, her voice hoarse from crying, and whispered, "What will Miss Willis do? Will she hurt us?"
I kept looking at that window, fearful of seeing a face press itself against the glass. I saw nothing but rain. Where was Miss Lilian? What was she doing all alone in her ruined house? When would she come looking for my brother and me?
"If she comes after anyone," I said slowly, "it will be Georgie and me, not you. It's us she hates."
Lissa huddled in her corner of the sofa and stared at me, her face wet with tears. "Why would she hate you and Georgie?"
I looked at Lissa long and hard, tired of her questions, tired of her ignorance. Why had I wanted a friend so badly? I got to my feet. "I have to find Georgie."
"Don't go." Lissa grabbed my hand with both of hers. "Wait till Daddy comes home. Don't leave me here alone."
"I told you, Miss Willis won't hurt you."
"Please, please!" Lissa clung to me and wept. "Stay with me. I'm scared."
I pulled away from her. "You have MacDuff. But Georgie's out there in the woods with no one but Nero."
"Don't be mad," Lissa begged. "I'm sorry, Diana, I'm so sorry. I didn't know—I didn't mean—I—"
I left her weeping on the couch, her arms around the dog. All I cared about was Georgie. I was his big sister. I had to keep him safe from Miss Lilian.
THE DIARY OF LISSA MORRISON
Dear Dee Dee,
What happened today is almost too terrible to write about. My hand is still shaking so much I can hardly hold my pen. I did what I said I was going to do. I made Diana go inside the house with me. MacDuff wouldn't come with us. Diana didn't want to go in either—she said it was against the rules.
Oh, Dee Dee, I should have listened to Diana. She and MacDuff are both smarter than I am. What's wrong with me? Why do I do dumb things?
As soon as I stepped inside that house, I smelled a horrible stink—cat pee mostly, just disgusting—but did that stop me? Oh, no, I went in anyway. I just had to see what the house was like.
But it was more than that, Dee Dee. It was like something was making me go inside. It was kind of like a voice in my head saying, "Come in, come in."It wasn't just an invitation, Dee Dee, it was more like an order, and I had to do what it said. Hearing voices—it sounds crazy, but that's what it was like.
I hope nobody ever reads what I just wrote. They'd lock me up in a padded cell for sure. But it's true. There was a voice, and now I know it was Miss Willis. She wanted me to come in, she wanted me to open that door.
I was scared, but I didn't want Diana to know, so I said let's go upstairs. We went to Miss Willis's bedroom and I tried on her clothes and made fun of them. I even took one of her hats, a big one with flowers on it, really hideous, and then I made Diana go to the third floor. There was a big old piano up there, all covered with cobwebs. Diana freaked out when I started playing it. We actually had a fight, and then she started crying and I realized I was acting like a spoiled brat, making her do what I wanted when she was so totally worried about those rules—which turned out to be much more important than I ever dreamed.
So I told her I was sorry and we started to leave, but at the bottom of the steps the voice in my head started up again. There I was, right in front of the parlor door, and I knew that was the room where she died, and the voice kept telling me to open the door.
So I grabbed the knob. Diana tried to stop me, but it was like something had ahold of me and it was making me turn the knob and open the door. Honest. I'm not just making excuses for what I did. It was her. Miss Willis. I'm sure of it now.
As soon as the door opened, this icy cold wind came rushing out and I saw something gray go running up the steps. It took the hat, snatched it right off my head, and stopped at the top. Dee Dee, don't think I'm nuts when I tell you this—it was Miss Willis. She looked real, but I knew she was a ghost because she died at least ten years ago. There she was, staring down at Diana and me, mean and ugly with wild white hair, wearing a gray dress like any old crazy woman you might see in a store or walking down the street.
She leaned over the rail and started yelling at Diana. Then she ran down
the hall and I heard her bedroom door slam and the house got very, very quiet—as if it was holding its breath till the next thing happened.
That's when I started screaming. I couldn't stop. Maybe I was hysterical. Or losing my mind. Diana grabbed me and yanked me along behind her. She kept saying I had to go faster, but my legs wouldn't work right and I couldn't see, maybe my eyes were shut, I don't know, but I was so scared. We got outside and ran all the way home and MacDuff ran with us. I thought Miss Willis was chasing us, I thought she'd come to the trailer, I thought she'd hurt Diana and me.
Diana says Miss Willis's ghost won't hurt me, she'll go after her and Georgie because she hates them. Not me. But, Dee Dee, what could they have done to Miss Willis? She's been dead so long and Diana's only twelve like me. It's all so strange—her parents, the rules, all the things I don't know about Diana's life. My head hurts when I think about it.
But, no matter what Diana says, I'm still scared and Dad is still at Home Depot, and when he comes home he won't believe a word I say, he'll just be mad because I went into the house when he told me not to. Maybe Dad will find another job soon. I hope so. Far away from here. I see now why all those other caretakers left. I don't know how I'll get a single night's sleep as long as we live here.
Let me tell you something, Dee Dee: never say you want to see a ghost.You will definitely be sorry.
Love, Lissa
Chapter 12
Georgie stood in the shed's doorway, a scowl on his face, watching me run through the rain toward him. He'd applied a fresh coat of war paint and added more feathers to his hair. I supposed that meant he was still mad at me. Well, soon he'd be even madder.
"Were you playing with Lissa again?" he asked, daring me to lie.
Instead of answering, I seized his hands. "Oh, Georgie, Georgie—"
"What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly fearful.
"She's loose! Miss Lilian—I saw her. She's just the same, mean, angry. She said—"
Georgie cut in before I could finish. "How did she get out?" His voice shook and he gripped my hands tightly.
"It was Lissa," I said, too ashamed to meet my brother's eyes. "She took a key, she opened the back door, and I went in with her. I knew I shouldn't, but I was scared to let her go by herself. She went all over the house, she even played the piano, and then she wanted to see where Miss Lilian died, so she—"
"You let her open the parlor door?" Georgie stared at me, white-faced with disbelief and fear.
"I tried to drag her away, but she, she—Georgie, I couldn't stop her. She was too strong. She says Miss Willis made her do it, she—"
Georgie flung himself at me, terrified. "I told you something horrible would happen. I told you and told you and told you!"
"Its all my fault," I admitted. "I broke the rules. I'm sorry, Georgie, I'm so sorry."
We clung to each other, shivering and shaking, imagining every sound in the woods was Miss Lilian hunting for us. But all we heard were ordinary noises. Wind in the trees, rain pattering on the shed's roof, a fox barking.
At last, Georgie drew back and looked up at me. His war paint was smeared and his feathers were crooked. "Where is she now, Diana?"
"Miss Lilian? In her bedroom. She didn't need that chair to go upstairs, Georgie. She ran up there all by herself."
"Does that mean she can chase us?" My brother's eyes roved to the shed's doorway and the dreary night darkening the field beyond. A damp breeze, carrying the smell of rain and fall's decay, made him shudder. "Can she come here and, and—"
"Maybe she can't leave the house," I whispered. "She must have rules, the same as us." I squeezed his hand, but I didn't tell him what I was thinking. I'd broken the rules. Miss Lilian could break them, too.
Silently I crawled under the blankets beside Georgie. This close, my brother smelled like a little animal, a rabbit perhaps, that lived under bushes in fear of hawks.
"Suppose Miss Lilian can go outside like you and me," Georgie whispered. "What if she comes to the shed while we're asleep? What if she—"
"I won't let her hurt you." I held him so close the feathers in his hair tickled my nose. "I'm your big sister. I'll take care of you."
Georgie relaxed, more trusting than I'd expected, considering I hadn't been the best caretaker lately. Nero crept under the covers and curled up between us, soft and warm. His purr comforted us.
Just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, Georgie rose up slightly and looked into my eyes. "Tell me the story, Diana, all the way to the end."
"But it always scares you."
"Not this time, I promise. I need to remember everything so she can't catch me again."
While Georgie lay still and quiet beside me, I told him the familiar story of our days at Oak Hill Manor with Mother and Daddy. This time when I came to the part where Miss Lilian turned against Georgie and me, he tensed, but he didn't make me stop.
"One day," I whispered, "you cut your leg climbing over a rusty barbed-wire fence. You were bleeding, so I took you to the house to find Mother. She wasn't there, but Miss Lilian caught us in the kitchen and began to rant and rave in her crazy way. We tried to run outside, but she got between us and the kitchen door, so we ran down the cellar stairs to hide."
Georgie nudged me. "Why didn't we run out the front door?"
"We were going to hide in our secret place. Remember?" I stroked his back, soothing him as if he were Nero.
We'd found the little room one afternoon when we were exploring the cellar, way back when we'd first come to Oak Hill Manor. The door was hidden in a dark corner, behind piles of boxes and old furniture. The room itself had no windows and its walls were thick.
Georgie and I had fixed it up like a clubhouse, with candles and books and a few board games, along with blankets and pillows borrowed from the attic. It was a great place to play without fear of being caught by Miss Willis.
"But Miss Lilian came down the steps behind us," Georgie went on for me. "She was waving a broom and screaming at us. We ran into the room and slammed the door. It was a stupid thing to do."
"We thought we were safe," I said. "But she bolted the door and locked us in." In my head, I heard Miss Willis again, just as I heard her in my worst nightmares. "Stay there! Think about how you've treated me. I'll come back when you're ready to apologize."
"And then she left," Georgie whispered. "And she never came back."
"No, she never came back." My heart beat faster. I wished Georgie would say, "Stop," but he lay beside me, still and tense, a rabbit poised for flight. So I went on to the worst part.
"We cried and shouted for Mother and Daddy, we pounded on the door till our fists ached, but no one heard us. No one came. No one let us out."
Georgie shivered and curled into my arms. I could feel his heart beating as fast as mine.
"We lit candles," I told him. "We ate the crackers we'd left there. But after a while the candles burned down and went out. It was so dark. And cold. We told each other stories, we sang songs..." I paused, unable to go on.
"What happened next?" Georgie whispered. "Do you remember?"
"I think we fell asleep. At least that's how it seems. A deep sleep."
"And then we woke up," Georgie said, sounding cheerful again, "and we were outside and the sun was shining."
"Yes." After the darkness of the cellar, the light had hurt our eyes, almost blinded us. We stood in a field overgrown with thistles and poke weed, wild daisies and Queen Anne's lace, swarming with bees and butterflies. At first I'd thought we must be in heaven, but when I looked around, I realized we were still on the farm. The familiar woods lay ahead, their leaves swaying in a summer breeze. The sky was blue, almost cloudless, and a mockingbird sang from a fence post. Grasshoppers jumped around our feet, bees buzzed, a crow cawed in the woods. A tractor rumbled in the distance. The air smelled of honeysuckle and damp grass.
Behind us was Miss Lilian's house, barely visible through a screen of trees in full leaf.
Everything had been just
as it should be, yet I'd felt strange. Not thirsty, not hungry, not weak from our days in the dark cellar. It was as if I'd become very light. A gust of wind might send me spinning higher and higher until the earth was a tiny ball lost among stars.
In the dark shed, I squeezed Georgie's hand, glad to feel its warmth. He propped himself up on his elbows, more himself now that the worst part of the story was over, and peered into my eyes.
"How did we get into that field, Diana? Who opened the door? Who let us out?"
"It was like a dream," I said, at a loss for an explanation. "First we were in the cellar, and then we were in the field with nothing in between. Bing—there we were in the sunshine."
"We wanted Mother and Daddy" Georgie said, sad now. "We wanted to go home."
"But we couldn't," I said. "It was against the rules."
"The rules," Georgie muttered. "Always the rules. Where did they come from, Diana? Who gave them to us? Do you remember?"
"It wasn't Mother or Daddy," I said.
"They gave us plenty of rules before the bad thing happened." Georgie yawned. "Like not going into Miss Lilian's house and not touching the piano and not talking with our mouths full and not interrupting. And not, and not..."
Georgie's voice trailed off into a mumble and he fell asleep, but I lay beside him, thinking, trying to remember. No one had told us the rules, I was sure of that. No one had written them down and handed them to us. They were just there, in our heads:
Rule One: Do not let anyone see you.
Rule Two: Do not leave Oak Hill Manor.
As long as we obeyed those two rules, we could do anything we liked. Play all day, stay up as late as we wanted, roam the woods and fields, tease and play tricks on the living.
***
The first night of our new life, Georgie and I had crawled through the open kitchen window of our house and crept to our parents' bedroom. The light was out, but they weren't asleep.
"If Miss Lilian recovers," Mother was saying, "she might be able to tell the police something about Diana and Georgie. Maybe she saw something, heard something, maybe—" She broke off and began to cry.
The Old Willis Place Page 9
