by Jane Toombs
Second choice, Janella thought bitterly. Toivi won’t come so how about you? Was it possible he didn’t know how the music affected her? She took a deep breath and answered him. “If you want me to go into the Music Room with you and listen to you play, I don’t want to. I’ve explained about the room—I’m uneasy there.”
“But nothing will happen to you. You’re sensitive to the shadows, you see them. I need to know when they respond to the music.”
“Why?”
“For a long time, years, I’ve had the sensation of communicating with something unknown when I play certain combinations of notes on the piano. As I told you, I learned of Jesse Shephard’s so-called musical séances and read everything he’d written about the subject.”
“But…”
Lucien held up a hand. “Wait. I know you’ll say he was somewhat of a charlatan. Yes. But he also honestly believed in what he did—only he jazzed the whole bit up for his acquaintances. He had to in order to make a living. That doesn’t mean some of it wasn’t real. It was. I’ve felt the same when I play. The music invokes the unseen, the unknown, and there is a response. Believe me, Janella.”
“I only know I don’t like the Music Room in the Villa Montezuma. I love the house, all except for that room.”
“But that’s why I need you.”
So he called the shadows with his wistful melodies, not her, not any living woman. No wonder Aunt Toivi refused to go with him.
“I hope you’ll help me, and I promise I won’t let anything frighten you. Oh, by the way, I talked to Toivi about your bad experience today while in self-hypnosis. She’s very interested and terribly sorry you had such a scare. She was worried about you when you dashed out of her room. I was worried, too, tonight when I didn’t find you in your room and you didn’t seem to be anywhere in the house.”
“There was no one around after supper and I needed some fresh air.”
“Try to let one of us know. Even Mrs. Barnes. She’ll leave me a message. Things can be different in the dark. I wouldn’t want you to lose your way.” He rose and touched her arm. “Good night, Janella. I hope tomorrow is a better day for you.”
Not until she pulled up the covers of her bed did Janella wonder if Lucien had meant more in his last remark than she had seen at first. Lose her way? But he couldn’t know Red had been here tonight.
She closed her eyes but images came to her: Toivi’s eyes, all pupil, staring into her own. “Count with me, Janny.” And the chips in the bandana. Where had they gone? Not in the fireplace where she had left them, perhaps wrongly. Was that Akki’s bundle, had she been concealing the chips in her shawl?
Janella shivered a little, remembering the chant. She got up to wedge a chair under her doorknob—no old Akki in her room tonight doing God knows what. Why was the old woman afraid of her, why did she think Janella was a witch?
Janella climbed back into bed and burrowed under the blankets. Everything about this place was askew, like a view seen through a rainy window, the people all blurred and distorted.
Janella could feel herself becoming more and more tense and knew she would never sleep. She could say the nonsense syllables—but they made sense now. She didn’t want to use the counting to bring the golden owl, the kulta pollo. That was self-hypnosis, Lucien said, and she was afraid of her own demons.
She began to relax each muscle deliberately and tried to make her mind blank. When she found thoughts crowding in she tried to conjure up a picture of the smiling, gray-eyed woman she knew was her mother, mother to little Janny. The gentle hands, the quiet voice…
She woke with a start. There’d been a noise. She sat up in bed, switching on the bedside lamp, then stifled a scream as she stared at the open door. She looked around frantically for the chair and found it back in its original location by the window. Janella bit her lip, twisting her hands together. I know I put that chair against the door, she told herself. I know I did. But the open door gaped at her as if in mockery.
Chapter Nine
Janella finally slipped into sleep with both table lamps burning and the overhead light on. She had replaced the chair under the doorknob and the last she remembered she was staring at it, afraid the chair was going to move, of its own volition, against all natural laws.
When she woke the sun shone in through her curtained window and the artificial lights in the room seemed ridiculous. She reached to shut off the lamps but did not get up. The chair. Yes, still under the knob this morning. Could there be a concealed passage, a secret way to enter her room? Was that how someone had moved the chair earlier in the night?
The room had smooth plastered walls—no way to hide an opening. She got up and stretched, feeling the lack of sleep in her muscles. Inside the closet she saw only more smooth plaster. No secret panels in this room. She took the chair out from under the doorknob and stood meditating.
Was it possible for someone to have pushed the chair aside, entered, and replaced it by the window? No. She hesitated, not wanting to face the only remaining possibility. Herself. She went into the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Blue eyes gazed back, blank and closed to her inquiry. What was in there, behind the eyes? What was wrong with her?
Had Janella Maki gotten up, taken the chair away, climbed back into bed and not known what she had done? Why would I do such a thing? she wondered.
Lucien insisted hypnosis was self-induced but she had a frightening picture in her mind of Aunt Toivi crouched outside her bedroom door whispering, “Count, Janny. Count and then get up and open your door. Now, Janny. Now.”
The image was so vivid she shuddered away from her mirrored self. Is this what happened? But why—why? She couldn’t stay here where these strange occurrences threatened her. She must leave to save herself. She’d dress and tell Lucien. No—Aunt Toivi. Toivi was the one to tell. If they would just talk to her, Akki and Toivi, have a conversation that made sense instead of chants and mysterious insinuations. But no one in this house spoke in anything but riddles.
She pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. No need to impress, to be the ideal employee. Not even caring if the hour was too early for Toivi, Janella went across the hall and knocked at her aunt’s door. No answer. She knocked again and waited.
What had Aunt Toivi said? That she didn’t usually lock her door? Janella tried the knob unsuccessfully. Locked. She banged on the door with the side of her fisted hand, waited, then raised her arm to try again.
The door opened so suddenly she almost struck Akki. The old woman cried out and made a move to close the door again, but Aunt Toivi’s voice spoke in Finnish from somewhere behind Akki telling her not to be a silly old woman. “Come in, Janny,” Toivi added in English.
Janella stepped into the white, cold room. Her aunt was not in bed but lay curled up on a divan, head and shoulders supported by pillows. She wore a white robe and her sallow face and big dark eyes contrasted vividly with the starkness. Her hand came up languidly and Janella moved closer so she could clasp it.
“Sit down here with me, Janny.”
There was room but Janella lowered herself reluctantly as though fearing to touch her aunt’s body.
“You look ready for work this morning—are you going to chop wood?”
Was this a reference to her jeans or was Toivi thanking her obliquely for the bundle of chips? Or could she be chastising her for bringing the chips into the house where Akki could get them? Janella shook her head. Why couldn’t these people just say what they meant?
“I wanted to talk to you, Aunt Toivi. I—I don’t think I can stay. I mean, you don’t seem to need me, not really, and…”
“And I’ve frightened you terribly, haven’t I?” The dark eyes, pupils still dilated, regarded Janella sadly. “I wanted to help, wanted you to be able to remember me, bring back your lost childhood years. It was selfish of me. I should have recognized you’d have some bad memories hidden away, too, and they could spring out to scare you.” She was still holding Janella’s hand, and
now she pressed her fingers and released it. “Of course you want to get away from your bad aunt. But I do need you, Janny. I need you to help me. What has he told you?”
“You mean Uncle Lucien?”
Toivi grimaced impatiently. “What has he said to you about me?”
“Well—just that you haven’t been able to do much.” Janella was embarrassed, uneasy. How could she tell this woman her own husband had said she believed she was a witch? Had Lucien lied?
“Oh, I’m sure he’s said more—hinted more. Hasn’t he told you I’m crazy? Not in so many words, but so you couldn’t miss the meaning?”
“Well—not exactly.”
“Ha! I knew it. Always playing his role to the hilt. What exactly did he say, then?”
Janella twisted her hands together. “He—he told me you thought you were a witch,” she said at last. “I didn’t understand what he meant.”
“That’s all?”
Wasn’t it enough? Janella thought. She nodded. Lucien kept insisting he was going to talk to her about “poor Toivi,” but she realized now he had said very little. She realized also that Toivi hadn’t laughed off Lucien’s comment, hadn’t denied it indignantly.
“But, of course, it’s true,” Toivi said. “Poor Janny, do you think me quite mad?”
Janella smiled weakly.
“Not a witch in a coven, dancing around naked— I find such things ridiculous. A true witch uses only the mind.”
“The mind?”
“Not the brain, you understood. One’s inner self.”
Janella relaxed. She had heard talk like this before. Next Toivi would mention yoga or meditation.
“Can’t you get out more? Do things?” she asked impulsively.
Aunt Toivi smiled. “The prescription of youth. No, I don’t care to leave the house. Since you came yesterday, though, I’ve felt a stirring within, a sense of real purpose again. The search has been so long, and so many of those other silly girls…”
“Search?”
“Yes, for you. Didn’t Lucien tell you?”
“I thought he’d tried to find me when you needed a companion. He said all he’d done was call all the Makis listed in the phone book.” She gave a little laugh.
“Is that funny?”
“Only because we—that is, Helen, my stepmother—just listed our phone number in the book since the telephone company began charging extra for unlisted numbers. Before this our number was always unlisted because Helen worried about obscene phone calls.” Janella felt she was blabbing nonsense. How had they gotten off the subject of her leaving?
“We’ve looked a long time, Janny, to find a trace of you. Your father—my brother, Arnold…” Toivi glanced at Janella as if to gauge her acceptance of the fact they were one and the same—Toivi’s brother, Janella’s father.
On impulse Janella reached over and patted her aunt’s hand. It was cold to her touch.
“Lucien eventually discovered Arnold had reenlisted in the Navy.” Toivi shook her head. “He always said he hated his original tour of duty—I couldn’t believe he’d rejoin.”
Janella thought of the last year of her father’s life. She had seen so little of him, and he seldom smiled, never told her stories as she now remembered he used to do. “He wasn’t happy,” she said suddenly.
Her aunt gave her a queer look.
“Now—now that I can remember some things from the time before he married Helen, I know he used to laugh and sit me on his lap. Afterwards he didn’t.” Tears collected in her eyes and she swallowed quickly.
“He was unhappy with your stepmother?”
“No—I don’t think so. He liked Helen—seemed to need her. I was the one who didn’t like her for a long time—partly jealousy, I guess, and, oh, I don’t know…”
“Well, Lucien finally convinced the Navy it couldn’t be classified information to let us know where Arnold was stationed at the time of his death. So we came here.”
But they’d been here three months. And all that time Janella’s phone number had been in the San Diego directory. Why hadn’t Lucien found her earlier?
“I wanted to be where Arnold had last been. Even if we hadn’t found you, I needed to come here. You see, I knew when he died. I was sleeping and I woke up and said to Akki, ‘My brother is dead.’” Toivi had been semi-sitting, but now she dropped her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes.
Janella studied the thin face with the yellowed, aging skin. Her aunt did look ill. She glanced briefly around the room and saw a variety of boxes and small bottles on a table next to the divan. Did Toivi need medicines? When she looked back at her aunt the dark eyes were open again and fixed on her.
“Arnold and I had a closeness even when we were separated,” Toivi said. “I’m sorry Lucien didn’t know him, but I didn’t marry until Arnold’s death. Knowing my brother would have helped him to understand, perhaps.” She shrugged. “Only the direct blood line can really understand. I wish you would stay with me, Janny. We could talk, you know, of your mother. Lisa was a gentle woman, too soft for the world. Have you been able to remember her since you’ve been here?”
“Yesterday,” Janella said. “Before my father…”
“It was your father who frightened you?”
“A memory of him—Lucien said all I can see when hypnotized comes from my own mind.”
Toivi waved her hand as though to dismiss Lucien. “Why did your father scare you?”
“He—he had an awful look on his face and he called you…he made me call you a hiisi—that’s why I said the word to you.”
“How terrible for you.” But Toivi was smiling, a curiously self-satisfied smile.
Janella’s growing feeling of establishing a relationship with her aunt withered. How could she trust her? “I didn’t like being hypnotized without knowing ahead of time.”
“But I thought you remembered, Janny. I would never have had you count if I hadn’t thought you remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“Don’t you know Arnold used to put you in a trance all the time with the counting? You were just a tiny girl but you knew your numbers in both English and Finnish.” She seemed to notice Janella’s expression. “You mean you really didn’t know your father hypnotized you?”
“No,” Janella half whispered. But even as she breathed the word she could hear her father’s voice in her mind. “Close your eyes, mielikki, and count for me. Yksi…” Her eyelids flickered as she fought to keep them open now. Self-hypnosis, Lucien had said. Did that include the dead voice inside her head telling her to close her eyes, to fly away with the golden owl?
“My mother…?” she asked Toivi.
“Oh, Lisa was against it—she was afraid of what she couldn’t understand, afraid of her own abilities. In the end, fear killed her. Her blood line was wrong, anyway—Arnold married without thinking. He was always heedless. Still, the genes were good enough to produce you, Janny…” Toivi looked at her and Janella was repelled by the eagerness in her eyes.
She half rose, but Toivi’s hand came out and clutched at her. “No—don’t leave me. If you go I’ll have to give up, everything will be lost.” Her eyes were brilliant with tears. “There’s nothing left of Arnold but you, Janny.”
Janella opened her mouth to tell Toivi she was wrong, but the years of Helen’s cautioning stopped her. She couldn’t tell her aunt that there was a nephew, too, not just a niece, couldn’t bring poor malformed Arnie to Toivi’s notice. What difference would it make? Toivi certainly wouldn’t want him near her—he was of no use to anyone. Best to keep Helen happy and not tell about Arnie.
“Won’t you stay a few more days with us? I shan’t frighten you again.”
Janella wanted to go. There were too many complications: her response to Lucien was wrong, old Akki’s dislike, the mistrust yet of Toivi…
“Why is Akki afraid of me?” she blurted, avoiding the question of staying.
“She senses your powers. She’s an adept,
knows many secrets. But she feels you will destroy us all.”
“But that—that’s crazy. I don’t have any powers—how could I…”
Toivi smiled, sat up, and held her hands out to Janella. “I call Akki a crêpe hanger and she gets mad at me. You’re my sweet little Janny and I know you better than she ever will. Stay with me.”
Janella avoided her aunt’s hands. “I—I don’t…” she began, and then stopped, alarmed, as Toivi balled the hands into fists and shoved them hard against her own chest. “What—what’s the matter?”
“My heart…” Toivi gasped. “Get Akki.” Then she slumped over the side of the divan, half on the floor.
Janella pulled her back among the cushions and hurried to find the old woman. She opened the door across the room to find Akki huddled on the floor. For a moment Janella wondered if Akki, too, had been stricken, but the old woman got up with surprising agility.
She glanced once at Janella, then scuttled through the doorway and moved quickly over to the divan. Janella followed her, but Akki was fumbling among the bottles and boxes on the table before she could reach them. The sleeves of the black robe hid what she was doing from Janella’s sight.
“What’s wrong?” she asked Akki, and then, remembering the old woman might not understand, she began searching for the Finnish words.
To her surprise the old woman answered in heavily accented English. “You go. She die.”
Janella moved around to where she could see her aunt’s face, and shuddered because it seemed the face of a corpse.
Akki gave her a malevolent look. “You stay—we all die.”
Chapter Ten
Downstairs, in the dining room, Janella sipped disconsolately at her coffee. Akki had evidently known what to do for Toivi, because her aunt had regained consciousness in a few minutes. “Rest,” she had whispered, slowly lifting a hand to Janella, a look of weary appeal in the great dark eyes.
And so Janella had nodded, murmuring, “Yes, you must rest—I’ll come back later.”