by Lisa Samson
“Actually, not too bad. Milady’s been sitting in a lawn chair all day reading The Three Musketeers and d’Artagnan’s been doing a great job on my motorcycle. The guy has a real flair for mechanics.”
Ophelia laughed. “You just never know. I thought he would be the most exciting character that’s ever come through the circle, and he’s been the most boring by far.”
He dropped the last strawberry into the bowl and reached for the sugar canister. “Maybe he’s realizing that a simple life well-lived isn’t such a bad thing after all.”
Ophelia held up a set of crossed fingers. “Here’s hoping.”
Milady walked in and tossed the book on the kitchen table. “I skipped to the end.” Her milky skin, obviously whole milk before, had changed to the color of skim milk. Not a pretty sight. “I can’t believe it.” She turned to Father Lou. “I’m scared to go back now. I don’t want to die.”
Ophelia grabbed her hand and pulled her down into the chair next to her. “It doesn’t have to work like that.”
“What do you mean? The book is written! There it is on the page in ink. And ink remains.” She hugged herself. “I … I don’t know what to do. I know if I don’t go back, I’ll die. And if I do go back, I’ll die. Can somebody not find a way to help me?” Tears filled her eyes.
If Ophelia had even one atom of doubt left that the Countess de Winter had not changed, it went spinning off into space never to be seen again. (All right, I’m no physicist! I realize that. I have no idea if atoms just go spinning off into space willy-nilly. You’ll have to ask a scientific person. I’m a man of letters not of science. And if you don’t like it, you can very well take it up with the administration, but on this matter, I doubt they’ll even give you an audience. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!)
Ophelia placed a comforting hand on Milady’s arm. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“What do you mean?” Her gaze shot straight into Ophelia’s.
“She means she has good news.” Father Lou stirred a hefty amount of sugar into the strawberries.
“It’s true. What you do does matter, Milady. You can change your future. The words of Dumas aren’t written in indelible (permanent) ink.”
“Truly?”
“Oh yes! Quasimodo went back to thirteenth century France, and he didn’t die like he was supposed to. He ended up living a great life! And last time, with Captain Ahab, same thing! Coming through the enchanted circle made all the difference for them. And it can make all the difference for you.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “But I’ve done so much. I almost don’t know how to go back to those days before …” She shook her head.
“What happened, Milady? Who steered you in the direction you found yourself?”
This was something Ophelia had been wondering lately. Was there a past to these characters that the author himself did not know? Did they truly come through as complete human beings with a childhood behind them? She was about to find out.
twenty
Firm Resolve and a Good Meal, Necessary for Any Proper Haunting
My childhood is very foggy now,” Milady said. “In fact, I don’t remember much before my marriage to Athos.”
“One of the three musketeers.” Ophelia began peeling a piece of corn from the sack Father Lou set down on the table. Well, so much for a past history. “That didn’t work out too well, did it?”
She shook her head. “I know stealing the communion chalice was wrong, but he hung me, Ophelia! My own husband hung me after I was already branded!”
“You wouldn’t even go to jail for something like that nowadays,” said Father Lou.
“No!” Milady’s hand flew up to her mouth. “And you’re a priest! What would you do?”
“Pray for the thief and hope God will have mercy and send what they need in their lives to choose to do the right thing.” He shrugged. “I know, that must sound crazy to you.”
“No, no, no! It sounds like forgiveness.” She dropped her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry. To everybody I’ve wronged for so long. Even Athos. Maybe he just didn’t know any better.”
“Who knows?” said Ophelia, picking off the strands of blond silk stuck to the corn. “But even with all of that, you can choose to go back and be a good person, Milady. In fact, I can put you back in a place where you can simply disappear.”
“How will I live?”
Ophelia felt her heart heavy with compassion. “Is there anybody you can trust?”
She shook her head quickly from side to side.
“What about d’Artagnan?” asked Father Lou.
Nice one, Father, thought Ophelia.
Milady shrugged. “But he knows all about me. He’s been rather nice today, though.”
“What if we talk to him? Just ask him to look out for you? To help you carve out a new life?”
“Oooh, I wish I could do it on my own!” Milady slammed a hand down on the table.
“The times are different now,” Father Lou said gently. “It’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it, Countess, even if it’s from a man. D’Artagnan is brave at heart, and kind. Maybe you two can find a way to exist in harmony together.”
She nodded, resolve sparking in her eyes and stiffening the cast of her chin. “I’m going to talk to him. Right now.”
“Well, make it quick then, Milady. Dinner’s in ten minutes!” He laughed.
She made for the door, then turned back. “You really think I can do this?”
“Yes!” both Ophelia and Father Lou yelled with broad smiles on their faces.
She lifted a fist and shook it. “Wish me luck!” Then disappeared.
Ophelia let out a windy sigh of relief.
“What was that all about?” asked Father Lou.
She picked up another ear of corn and split the tight husks up at the top. “Linus and I were trying to get the brooch over here so she’d have some money to get a fresh start.”
“But that brooch doesn’t belong to her, Ophelia. Not to sound like a pastor or anything, but, you know.”
She laughed. “Oh, please. Go right ahead. I’m glad it didn’t work out.”
“Some of our worst plans don’t. And that’s a good thing.”
Truer words never spoken, as somebody once said. Probably that fellow Shakespeare.
Oh, what a grand meal! The entire gang sat around Father Lou’s living room and consumed his good food. The man can nourish the stomach as well as the heart, a wonderful trait in a clergyman.
“Let’s drink a toast!” Walter raised his glass of lemonade. “To tonight! To Linus’s pulleys, Milady and d’Artagnan’s bravery, Father Lou’s good food to bolster us up, Ophelia for knowing the story, and of course, to Madge for, unbelievably, going along with it all!”
“We should have invited her,” said Father Lou. Linus looked at him like he was crazy. “Why not? She’s not so bad.”
“And to you, Walter,” said Milady. “For having such a kind heart and helping hands.”
They clinked their glasses together and drank down the cool drink. The time was 6:00 p.m. Three and a half hours and counting.
“It will be quite a show,” said Father Lou.
Unfortunately, he didn’t know the half of it. Or maybe that was a good thing.
twenty-one
Boo! A Terrible Haunting
or Corsets, Pulleys, and Loads and Loads of Makeup
Ophelia put the final touches on Milady’s makeup in Clarice’s room. Clarice looked on. “I’m glad you know how to do that stuff,” she said.
“I don’t. But a ghost is a ghost, right?”
Milady was pale enough on her own. “Are you sure that rope will hold me?”
“I am, Milady.”
“It’ll be fine!” said Clarice, who insisted in being in on the haunt. “Linus is a genius when it comes to stuff like that.”
Girlfriends always think their boyfriends are geniuses. Even if their IQ is no higher than the te
mperature of a late spring evening. (That would be around seventy-five or eighty for the dullards out there, of which, you, reader, are clearly not one!)
“Everything went fine when we practiced. It will hold.” Ophelia messed up Milady’s hair a little more, then stepped back. “It really says something about you when no matter what I do, you still look beautiful.”
Milady reached out a hand and held Ophelia’s cheek.
“How old are you?” Ophelia asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but I think I’m in my thirties. Well, let’s get moving. The head of the school should be coming soon.”
They met the others at the balcony, including d’Artagnan who was wearing Walter’s party costume, only dusted with white powder. He looked frightening. He stood there, sober.
“Can you do this?” Walter asked him. “Are you sure it will be all right?”
“I did it earlier, isn’t that right?” He looked at the countess. “You are magnificent.”
Linus stepped forward with a carabiner (rock climbing hook). He reached into a hole made in the back of Milady’s bodice and grabbed the hook on her harness. The black line went up to a pulley in the ceiling about four feet away from the balustrade. He had a great time with Walter and Father Lou installing it. Another pulley was installed about three feet to the right. They attached the line to a harness beneath d’Artagnan’s clothes.
Down in the foyer, Clarice and Ophelia lit the candelabra on the side table, two of them, with eight candles each. They turned off the chandelier to keep as much light off the ceiling as possible.
All waited in silence, their breath coming shallow in their anticipation. All was ready. All had been checked and double-checked. The trial run went smoothly. What could happen?
Five minutes later, Madrigal jammed her key in the lock as loudly as she could. When she pushed open the door, the Gray Lady began to moan. Slowly, she traversed across the balcony.
Both Linus and Ophelia felt the hairs on the back of their neck raise. Oh, please, Ophelia thought. Please let this work!
Johann looked up and pointed. “There she is!”
“The Gray Lady!” Madrigal pointed too. “My goodness, she’s magnificent!”
Milady increased her volume, then stopped in the middle of the balcony. “You!” she pointed a finger at Johann. “Leave this place and never come back!”
She climbed onto the rail with the help of a box that had been placed there. Thank goodness it was even dimmer upstairs than in the foyer. “Aaaaaaaoooooohh!” she cried. “My husband! My child.” She let her face fall in her hands, and she wept some more. Then she stood up straight, reached out her arms, and fell forward. She was airborne.
Johann, with an expression of horror, looked as if he was about to faint. But the expression appeared on all their faces as, Milady’s weight now stretching the rope, the loud sound of screws displacing from the plaster ceiling let out a pop!
Milady screamed. “Help me! Please!”
“Hang on!” cried Linus coming into view. “Stay calm.”
“What’s going on?” yelled Johann.
Linus tried to reach for her rope. “Too far.”
The rope jerked again as the pulley was further tugged from the ceiling. Another scream from Milady. “Please!”
Ophelia screamed too, grabbing the balcony with tight fingers. “D’Artagnan! Now!”
D’Artagnan jumped up easily on the balcony, his feet balanced and poised, and just as the pulley snapped, he swung forward and snatched the Countess de Winter into his strong arms.
The metal pulley fell to the floor, clattering loudly on the marble.
But the weight of both people would not hold for long. The same popping of screws began. Walter slid down the stair railing, pulled off the cushions on the small settee at the back of the foyer, and just as he arranged them beneath the pair, the pulley gave way, and they came falling down together, landing in a puff of talcum powder.
“Is everybody all right?” Father Lou rushed down the steps.
“I think so,” said Milady, even more pale beneath her powder.
“I’m fine.” D’Artagnan stood and held a hand out to the countess. She took it and rose to a standing position, her knees shaking, her hands shaking, her head shaking, everything quivering with adrenaline.
She threw her arms around d’Artagnan and began to laugh.
“This is crazy!” Johann came to his senses. He turned to his sister. “Maddie, you are off your rocker! Did you have anything to do with this?”
Linus sucked in his breath. Would she make them take the fall?
Take the fall. Yes, there’s a certain irony to it, isn’t there?
Her eyes blazed, and she turned on him. “Yes! These people are my friends, Johann. That they would go to such lengths to help me, when you, my own brother wish to bring me down to ruin, is a loyalty you would know nothing about. Now get out! Get out of this house.”
“It’s half mine, Maddie. I’ll stay if I like.”
Father Lou, bounty hunter and man with a keen sense of right and wrong, stepped forward. “You might be wise to move along tonight, Mr. Pierce.”
“Who are you?” he sneered.
“Don’t mess with him.” Walter stood beside the priest and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s hurt more people than a man like you could ever dream of.”
“You’re a bully!” Ophelia, someone who knew a bully when she saw one, stepped forward.
Linus joined the line. Then Clarice. Followed by d’Artagnan and Milady.
Madrigal lifted her chin. “Get out.”
“You know you’ll have to give this place up. I have the right.”
“Get out, now.” Madrigal joined the line.
“I’ll get my bags,” he huffed.
“Uh … no,” said Father Lou softly. “You’re just going to go through that door. And we’ll make sure you don’t step through it again without a lawyer with you.”
“This isn’t over, Maddie.” Johann looked at his sister with such hate, Ophelia wanted to cry. Too bad Madge couldn’t remember her childhood like Milady.
Madrigal lifted her chin, the proud headmistress of the school, the wronged sister, and just perhaps, the friend of those gathered in the room for her defense.
Johann stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
“That went well,” said Walter, rolling his eyes.
“I am so sorry, Ms. Pierce,” said Ophelia.
“Me too.” Linus couldn’t believe what happened. He felt so defeated. He was so sure everything was safe. “To everybody. I let you down.”
Milady hit him on the shoulder with a laugh. “You sure did!”
Madrigal shook his hand and placed the other hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Linus. Sometimes matters don’t work out the way we’d like, but they still work out to the good.”
Father Lou agreed. “We’re all safe and Johann is out of the house. At least for now. I’d say it’s a job well done.”
“We’ll find a way to get him off your back, Ms. Pierce,” Walter promised.
Madrigal nodded, then turned back into her efficient self. “And now, everybody, to bed! We’ve all had quite the night!”
twenty-two
Nothing Worse Than a Genius Feeling Sorry for Himself, Except a Brother Who Can’t Take a Hint
or Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire
Ophelia, Linus, and Walter sat around Linus’s room. Linus at his desk, Walter on the beanbag chair, Ophelia flat on the bed with her arms out at her side. “It wasn’t your fault, Linus,” she said.
“Then whose was it, Ophelia?” he said, more angry with himself than he’d ever been. “Really?”
“What I’m trying to say is —”
“I designed it. I installed it. I tested it. And they could have been killed.”
Walter sat up straight. “He’s right, Ophelia. But here’s the thing, mate. Nobody got killed. So thank heaven for that. And tomorrow, we’ll go
over and examine everything. See where the weaknesses lie. Until then, there’s no use in beating yourself up about it. There might be a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
“Something you couldn’t have known!” said Ophelia.
The guys looked at each other. She just didn’t get it. But they loved her all the more for it.
“The last night with this pair.” Walter sighed. “This was fun.”
“Seems a little anti-climactic, though.” Ophelia reached toward the nightstand and slipped off a copy of Popular Science. “Do you think they should be back already?”
D’Artagnan and Milady had gone out for a late stroll in the park. She’d been so shaky after the fall, d’Artagnan suggested they get some air.
“Maybe. But the fact that it’s taking a long time can only be good.”
Ophelia flipped open the magazine. “I don’t know how she’s going to do it, guys. I honestly don’t know how she’ll be able to mend her ways.”
“Are you joking?” Walter said. “She’s the most resourceful person in the entire book. Why should it be any different because she’s doing it for the right reason?”
Ophelia agreed on the surface, but deep down, she still had her doubts.
Have you ever woken up, gotten ready for school, and hopped on the bus only to be told by your friends, in the most animated voices of course, about the huge storm that passed through? How everybody in their houses lied awake in their beds, the flash of lightening illuminating their faces like a strobe light, the crack of the thunder beating against their eardrums like taiko drums? (Those are the mammoth drums Japanese drummers use, banging them with mallets and creating beats that vibrate your insides.)
That’s what would have happened to the twins had it not been summertime. Instead, they woke up later than they wanted (who could blame them) and didn’t realize a thing until they went to the kitchen, turned on the light, or tried to at least. Nothing happened.
Linus went to the living room and tried to turn on a lamp. Nothing there either.
“Power’s out,” he said, returning to the kitchen.
“What time is it?” asked Ophelia.
