The Old Willis Place

by Mary Downing Hahn

  At my brother's urging, I kept reading until I finished. The story ended just as Georgie had hoped. After a few more struggles, Lassie made it home and met Joe at the school gate as she used to. This time Mr. Carraclough didn't make Joe return the dog to the duke. Instead, he nursed Lassie back to health. In the end, the duke hired Joe's father to run the kennel, he let Joe keep Lassie, and Lassie had puppies.

  Georgie grinned. "I wish I could hear it all over again."

  Chapter 15

  Later that day, I walked to the trailer. It was too cold for Lissa to do her schoolwork at the picnic table, but I hung around for a while, hoping she'd come out. I liked Mr. Morrison, but I wasn't in the mood to pretend to be a normal girl.

  After several minutes, I gave up and knocked at the door. Maybe Mr. Morrison was busy in his room, writing his book.

  But no, he opened the door and gave me a big smile. "Why, Diana," he said, "come in. You must be freezing in that thin blouse and skirt. And look at your feet. Where are your shoes?"

  I hesitated on the threshold, heedless of the wind blowing through the open door. Oh, why did he and Lissa have to ask so many questions?

  Before I could change my mind and run back to the woods, Mr. Morrison took my hand and drew me inside. "I promise not to give you any more chicken soup," he said with a laugh. "I didn't realize you were a vegetarian."

  A vegetarian—he and Lissa had an amazing ability to come up with explanations for my odd behavior. I supposed the truth was too fantastic for them to guess.

  Lissa came out of her bedroom and mumbled a greeting. She was pale. Anxious.

  "Miss Grump got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Mr. Morrison told me, winking to show he was teasing Lissa. "She hasn't had one nice thing to say."

  "I brought your book back." I handed Lassie to Lissa. "We finished it this morning. Thanks for letting us borrow it."

  Lissa took the book as if it no longer interested her and laid it on a table beside the couch. I couldn't think of what I'd said or done to make her mad, but something was obviously bothering her.

  "And Clematis, if you still want to read it." I laid the tattered book, its pages warped from the shed's dampness, beside Lassie. "It's a good story. With a happy ending."

  "Thanks." Lissa opened it, releasing a slight odor of mildew. "I like the illustrations. They're so quaint."

  Mr. Morrison leaned over to take a look. "'By Bertha and Ernest Cobb,'" he read. "Copyright 1917. That is an old book. Where did you find it?"

  Inwardly I groaned at yet another question. "In a used-book store," I lied.

  Mr. Morrison nodded and handed Lissa MacDuff's leash. "Why don't you two take MacDuff for a walk," he suggested. "You could both use some fresh air."

  While Lissa snapped the leash to MacDuff's collar, Mr. Morrison turned to me. "That silly dog kept Lissa and me awake all night, barking his fool head off. I don't know what's gotten into him. All I heard was the wind, howling up a storm out there in the woods."

  "It was really blowing hard." I made an effort to sound like an ordinary person talking about the weather, but I knew what MacDuff had heard. And so did Lissa. Miss Lilian must have wandered all over the farm in the dark and the cold, searching for Georgie and me.

  Suddenly anxious to leave, Lissa grabbed her jacket from a hook near the door. "Do you want to borrow a sweatshirt, Diana?"

  "For heaven's sake, yes," Mr. Morrison answered for me. "She must be freezing."

  To satisfy them, I pulled Lissa's thick red sweatshirt over my head and followed her and MacDuff outside.

  "Don't let Diana blow away in the wind," Mr. Morrison called to Lissa.

  Lissa gave him one of those looks I'd given my father when he'd said something embarrassing. She didn't answer him or speak to me. I'd never seen her so quiet.

  After we were out of Mr. Morrison's sight, Lissa turned to me anxiously. "It wasn't just the wind last night, was it?"

  "No," I said.

  Lissa drew in her breath. "She called your name and Georgie 's name. Even with my head under the covers, I could hear her."

  "I told you she'd come after us," I said.

  "But why?" Lissa asked, genuinely puzzled.

  Instead of answering, I kept walking, head down, scuffing leaves out of my path. If only I could tell her the truth. She might believe me now. After all, she'd seen Miss Lilian. She'd heard her voice in the wind. She must realize ghosts exist.

  "I was with you in the house," Lissa went on, her voice shaky. "She should be after you and me, not Georgie. He wasn't even there."

  I looked at her. She was close to tears. "I couldn't sleep a wink last night," she said.

  "She's not after you," I insisted. "She won't hurt you."

  "I hate this place," Lissa went on as if she hadn't heard me. "I told Dad we have to leave, we can't stay here, but he won't listen to me. He acts like I'm a baby afraid of the dark."

  Lissa sat down on a boulder at the edge of the field and began to cry. I huddled beside her, sorry she'd been drawn into Georgie's and my troubles. Indifferent to our worries, Mac-Duff followed his nose into the weeds, roaming in circles around us, happy to be outside smelling wonderful smells.

  Glad for each other's company, Lissa and I pressed closer together. She shivered despite her warm jacket.

  A thick white cloud cover hid the sky, and the air smelled of snow—the first of the year, earlier than usual. My father would have said Mother Goose was about to shake the feathers out of her pillows.

  I gazed across the field toward the house. A gust of wind blew through the treetops, making a mournful sound. The air filled with flying leaves. A thought formed in my head, then another and another. They came from nowhere, just the way the rules had. Suddenly, I knew exactly what to say to Lissa. And, more importantly, what not to say.

  "Do you remember telling me about those missing children?" I asked her.

  She looked at me. She'd stopped crying, but her eyes were red and wet. "The ones Chelsea says haunt the farm?"

  I nodded. "What if I told you what happened to them?

  "Those children vanished a long, long time ago. How could you know anything about them?"

  I leaned closer, forcing Lissa to meet my eyes. In a whisper, I told her the words I heard in my head. It was almost as if someone else was speaking—a ventriloquist, maybe, using my voice. "When we first came here, Georgie and I found an open window in the basement. We used to climb inside and explore the house. It was scary, just like it is now. Creepy. We played the piano, we went through the closets, we stole books and clothes."

  "You said it was against the rules to go in the house," Lissa reminded me. "Weren't you scared your parents would find out?"

  "In those days, our parents weren't as strict as they are now. We didn't have as many rules."

  MacDuff interrupted me with a series of loud barks. He ran to Lissa and sat close to her, whimpering. We both looked across the field, to the trees and the house beyond. We saw nothing, but the dog's behavior made us uneasy.

  Lissa bent over MacDuff and stroked his sides. "What's the matter, boy?" she whispered. "Do you see something?"

  The dog rested his head on Lissa's knee and gazed at her in a way that made me think of Lassie. He thumped his tail and grinned, as if he'd merely been seeking affection.

  I touched Lissa's arm to regain her attention. "One day Georgie talked me into exploring the cellar. We'd been afraid to go down there because it was so dark, but Georgie borrowed a big flashlight."

  Lissa continued to pet MacDuff, but she was paying close attention to me.

  "We found a door in a dark corner of the cellar. It was bolted shut," I whispered. "And when we opened it—"

  Suddenly, Lissa drew back, alarmed by something in my voice. "No, I don't want to hear any more."

  She covered her ears like Georgie used to, but I pulled her hands away and held them tight. Somebody had to know where Georgie and I were and who had put us there. Somebody had to see to our buria
l. Otherwise, we'd be prisoners on the farm forever. These were the new rules. I knew them just the way I'd known the old rules.

  MacDuff looked at us uneasily, as if he didn't like the way I was holding Lissa's hands.

  "We opened the door," I went on relentlessly, spinning the lie as I talked, speeding up the story. Since it was partly Lissa's fault that the old woman was loose, she might as well be the one to fix things. "Two children were huddled together on the floor. Dead."

  I saw our bodies as they'd been when Georgie and I began our new lives. Like the empty shells of locusts left on tree trunks, they were no longer needed. But they had to be found, they had to be buried.

  "Stop it, Diana," Lissa whispered. "You're scaring me."

  "It's true. Miss Lilian locked the children in and left them there to die. No one knew about the room. No one ever found those children."

  "No," Lissa sobbed. "No, that's horrible, no one would do something so cruel."

  Once more she tried to free her hands. I held them tighter. MacDuff growled.

  "She was crazy," I cried. "She hated us!"

  "Us?" Lissa stared at me. "You said 'us.'"

  "I mean Miss Lilian's ghost," I corrected myself. "She hates Georgie and me because we know she killed the children." My story told, I let go of her hands. MacDuff relaxed and rested his head once more on Lissa's knee.

  "Those poor children," Lissa whispered. "Those poor, poor children. And their parents—they never knew what happened to them. Oh, Diana." She was crying again.

  "Tell your father, Lissa. Make him believe you. Those children must be buried properly. They can't rest till they're in their graves."

  "Is that why their ghosts are still here?"

  "Yes." It was true. I knew it. Once our bodies were found and buried, Georgie and I would be free to go—wherever it was we were going.

  Lissa slid off the rock. "Come with me. Help me tell Dad. He'll never believe me."

  "No, I can't." I jumped down beside her, anxious to settle things, to start them moving. "You have to do it yourself."

  Lissa hesitated. "But, Diana, he'll be mad, he'll know I went in the house, he'll—"

  I gave her a push toward home. "Go," I cried. "Go right now. Run! And be sure and tell him who killed them."

  The first flakes of snow had begun to fall, melting where they landed. MacDuff raced in circles, his mouth open in a lopsided grin, snapping at the flakes. Lissa called to him, her voice shrill.

  I watched the two of them vanish into the woods. The old rules had changed, fragmented, broken into bits. Telling Lissa had been the right thing to do. I was sure of it.

  But I'd changed everything for Georgie and me. The life we'd shared for so many years was about to end.

  What would replace it?

  THE DIARY OF LISSA MORRISON

  Dear Dee Dee,

  Last night the wind blew really hard and MacDujJstarted barking like he heard something outside. Dad said it was teenagers again, sneaking out here to drink beer, but oh, Dee Dee, I heard a voice calling Diana and Georgie. It's Miss Willis—her ghost, that is. Dad went out to chase the teenagers away. I told him not to. It wasn't teenagers, it was—but he left before I could say what it was. I stood in the open doorway, watching him, scared of what might happen. There was no car, no teenagers, just Miss Willis hollering in the dark. Dad came back inside,fussing about pranks, but he never once said he heard anyone calling.

  Diana and Georgie are lucky to be leaving this horrible place. If only Dad and I could move away, too.

  Today, I asked Diana why Miss Willis was after them. I'd asked her before, but she'd never really answered. This time she told me the truth. Those children who disappeared died in the cellar of the Willis house, and their bodies are still there. Miss Willis locked them in a secret room and left them there to die. Diana and Georgie found the bodies. Diana thinks Miss Willis is after her because she knows who killed the children.

  Diana spoke so calmly, but Ifelt like I might throw up or faint. How could something that horrible happen to two children? I wanted to cover my ears and run away, so Vd never have to see the farm again. Why did I drag poor Diana into that house? Why did she let me? She should've stopped me, she should've told me what was in the cellar. If Id known, I wouldn't even have sat on the terrace.

  Diana said I had to tell Dad about the bodies, I had to make him believe me. The children must be buried properly. Otherwise, they'll never rest in peace.

  So I ran home, just when the snow was starting, and I told Dad.

  At first he didn't believe me. He said Diana must be pulling my leg. But I begged him to go to the cellar and see for himseff. Finally, he said, Okay, okay, but nothing will be there. This is ridiculous, and so on and so on and so on while I was crying and shaking and terrified.

  Finally, he took his keys and a flashlight and left with MacDuff.

  I was all alone. I wished Diana had come home with me like I'd asked her to. The wind was blowing and the snow was falling and now it was sticking, not melting like before. It was almost dark, and I was scared Miss Willis would hurt Dad. What if she locked him in the room with the children's bodies? I hadn't thought of that when he left.

  So I put on my parka and my boots and gloves and hat and went out to look for him. The wind blew the snow in my face, cold enough to take my breath away. "Dad!"I called. "MacDuff!"

  No one answered. I walked on, still jelling for Dad and Mac-

  Oh, Dee Dee, when I was close enough to see the house, Miss Willis stepped out of the trees and stopped in front of me, blocking the way. She wore the same raggedy gray silk dress, and her hair blew, as white as snow itself.

  "Diana!"she screamed at me."Diana, stop running from me!"

  "I'm not Diana," I cried, but she reached for me as if she hadn't heard me. Her hands closed tight on my wrists, colder than the snow, stronger than steel.

  "Diana, listen to me! Don't run away!"

  This close, her face was the color of bone. Her eyes were sunken and shadowy, but they glittered with rage. She shook me fiercely "Where's Georgie?"

  "Let me go,"I sobbed,"let me go. I'm not Diana!"

  She tightened her grip and leaned closer to me. Her breath smelled like her house, old and dank. The wind tugged at her dress. "I know you," she whispered."You re the girl who let me out, the one who changed everything. Should I thank you? Or curse you?" She paused a moment and grinned. "Or should I lock you in the cellar?"

  Somehow, I broke free and ran toward the trailer. Behind me, I heard a horrible witchy laugh. "Stupid girl,"she cried. "Did I scare you?

  I didn't know if she was chasing me or not. I was scared to look back. Screaming and crying for my father, I flung open the front door and kicked it shut behind me. Exhausted, I collapsed and lay on the floor, too scared to move.

  After a while, I heard someone thumping on the door. I covered my ears and stayed where I was. It was her, I knew it was. Shed come to lock me in the cellar.

  "Lissa, let me in! "Dadyelled.

  I got to myjeet and staggered to the door. I was scared to open it. What if Miss Willis was still there? Would she hurt Dad? My hands shook so much I could hardly turn the knob.

  He stepped inside, bringing cold air with him. I threw my arms around him and kept on crying. He patted my back and smoothed my hair, but I could feel him trembling.

  "Oh, Lissa, Lissa," he whispered. "I found the room just where Diana said it would be. It was terrible ... terrible."

  His voice broke and he sank down on the couch. He looked awful, Dee Dee, like he'd just seen the most horrible thing you can imagine. I think he was as scared as I was. And close to tears, too, Dee Dee, which frightened me even more. I hadn't seen my father cry since Mom died.

  "How could anyone do something like that?"he asked in a shaky voice. "Those poor children, those poor little children, left there like that, locked in, abandoned."

  He hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe. When he let me go, neither of us said anything. We j
ust sat there. I guess we were in a state of shock. The wind was blowing so hard the trailer shook.

  I was sure I heard Miss Willis out there. And so did MacDuff. He kept pacing around, whimpering and whining the way he does when he's nervous about something. Dad told him to lie down, but he wouldn't.

  After a while, Dad said I looked exhausted. He was right. I was so tired I ached all over like I had the flu. He made me go to bed and fixed me tea and sat down beside me while I drank it. He'd made it with lemon and honey and it tasted so good.

  Then he called the police and told them what he'd found in the cellar. I listened to his voice, still shaking as he talked. He said it was no wonder the children were never found. Someone had piled boxes and old furniture in front of the door to the room.

  There was a pause and then Dad said, "Yes, I agree. It must have been Miss Willis. Who else could have done it?"

  After he hung up, he came back to my room and sat with me for a while. It was dark by then, and the snow blew past my window in a pale blur. My room looked safe and cozy, but I didn't feel all that secure. Not with Miss Willis out there looking for Diana and Georgie. I hoped they felt safer than I did. But I doubt it.

  "The police will be here early tomorrow,"Dad said. "They'll see to it that the children are properly buried."

  That made us both feel a little better, I think.

  I tried to tell Dad what I knew about Miss Willis, but he said, "Hush, hush, let's not think about that old woman anymore. She'll give us nightmares for sure." He hugged me and kissed my forehead and tucked me under the covers, all tight and snug and warm.

  MacDuff came to my room and jumped up on my bed. Dad usually chases him off, but tonight he said he could stay. MacDuff is the best old dog in the world, but even with him right here beside me I'm still scared.

  I wish the wind would stop. I wish it was morning. I wish we lived in one of those nice little houses across the highway. I wish Diana lived there, too, and we went to the same school and took gymnastics together.

  Most of all, I wish those children hadn't died in that cellar. They must have been so scared, Dee Dee.