by Karen Strong
“Patience, child. You came here for answers; I’m giving them to you.” Mrs. Whitney met Janie’s eyes and stared until Janie broke her gaze. “Iron rods or a horseshoe hung over a doorway can also prevent a spirit from entering. When salt is blessed, it acts as a holy protector. A spirit can’t cross its path.”
The room had quickly become hot and stuffy, and I squirmed in my chair. Mrs. Whitney was telling us what to do, but I didn’t know if I believed her. Anything could protect us as long as we believed it could? That didn’t make any sense. If anything could protect us, then why did she make us the pouches?
Mrs. Whitney blew out the candles, and the smoke floated across the table in lazy waves. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
Janie looked down at her hands and said nothing. Mrs. Whitney didn’t know we had gone to Creek Church or about the boy. I didn’t want to be a snitch. I was afraid to tell Mrs. Whitney that we had woken the haints.
“Why did you come back after all these years?” I asked.
“I came back to set the town’s history right,” Mrs. Whitney said.
She stood up and reached high on a shelf to grab a small wood statue. It was a handmade figure of a woman whittled by a sharp knife. She placed it on the table in front of us.
“Haints are trapped. This earthly plane is not their home anymore. They will always seek refuge until they are released to their true place of belonging. There is nothing to fear.”
“What is that?” I pointed to the statue.
“This is an heirloom,” she said. “A talisman that has been passed down in my family for generations. I’m going to let you hold her until we get this resolved. You can put her on your windowsill. She will watch over you.”
I took the wooden statue off the table; it felt smooth and warm in my hand. “Thank you.”
“What do we owe you for all of this?” Janie asked.
“I take all kinds of charity,” Mrs. Whitney said.
Janie gave her a doubtful look. “You don’t want any money?”
“Money is just one form of energy, child.”
Janie took the pouches off the table and put them in her pink backpack. Mrs. Whitney guided us into the hallway, and I was happy to be out of the dark room. We left the gift shop and stepped into the steamy afternoon air.
Mrs. Whitney had told us what we needed to do to protect ourselves, but she didn’t know the whole story. Were we the sole cause of the haints wandering around Warrenville or just a piece of the puzzle?
The bright sun tingled across my arms. Could we trust her? She may already have known. When I turned around to glance at the Train Depot, Mrs. Whitney was watching us from the gift shop window. When our eyes met, a nervous sensation bubbled through my stomach. Her expression was strange, as if she knew what I had been thinking.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Salt and Sugar
Where are we gonna find blessed salt?” Janie asked. “That doesn’t seem like something you can just buy at the store.”
“We can get rock salt from Hawkins Hardware and can bless it ourselves,” I said. “Ellis can say grace over it.”
Janie frowned. “He’s not a priest.”
“Remember what Mrs. Whitney told us. You just have to have faith in your amulets. You have to believe.” I touched the statue in my pocket.
We found Jasper and Ellis playing basketball in Marigold Park. They had started a pickup game with the Baxter Twins. Bonner and Bailey were smaller, and they circled Jasper and Ellis like two tiny titans. Jasper was a star on the junior varsity team, but he fumbled with the ball, giving the little boys a chance to steal it away from him. When Bailey’s chubby hands couldn’t swat the ball fast enough, Bonner weaved in and made a defensive play, pushing Ellis onto the ground. He trotted down the court to the hoop for a layup. The twins yelled in victory.
Jasper beamed at them. “Great game! Y’all just too good for me.”
Ellis grumbled as he got up, rubbing dust from his knees. “They play too rough.”
Jasper walked over to us, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “So what happened? How did the appointment go?”
We told them what Mrs. Whitney had given us for protection. Jasper nodded and pulled out a pouch from his shirt that he had tied on a long string.
“She made it for me this morning,” he said. “I thought it was strange.”
“Did you tell her about the boy you saw?” Ellis asked.
“It wasn’t the right time,” I said.
“What are you waiting for?” Ellis grumbled.
“It wasn’t my place to tell her, but you should have. She needs to know,” Jasper said.
“Maybe if we just take her advice with the amulets we’ll be fine,” Janie said.
“We’re in this mess because of you,” Ellis said. “In a few days, you’ll be gone, and we’ll still be here dealing with these haints.”
“I took her to Creek Church,” I said. “It’s just as much my fault as hers.”
Janie gave me a small smile. We didn’t need to argue about this; we needed to be a team.
The four of us walked inside Hawkins Hardware and found a dusty bag of rock salt. Warrenville hadn’t had a good snow in five years, and that only dusted the grass and roofs like spilled sugar. Mama had layered us up with coats, hats, and mittens. There wasn’t enough for a snowman, but I remember making snow angels on the ground with Daddy and Ellis. Mama made us vanilla syrup slushes. By the end of the day, the snow had melted without a trace.
Mr. Hawkins was too busy watching baseball on the small TV behind the counter to pay us any mind, buying a bag of rock salt in the middle of the summer.
Outside the store, I held the bulky bag in my arms. “We’re going to take this home, say grace over it, and then sprinkle it around the house.”
“Can I get some gummy worms?” Ellis asked.
“We should go home and get this done,” Janie said. “No one cares about your candy.”
I knew it wasn’t exactly my brother’s sweet tooth but rather Sunnie Loren, the high school girl and only daughter of the Loren family, that made my brother want to buy candy. Even though I told him that his crush would never amount to anything, he wouldn’t listen to me. He was hopeless. But I didn’t need to share that with Janie.
Ellis took a longing look across the street at Loren’s Grocery. I had to remember, after everything that had happened with Creek Church and the haints, he hadn’t snitched on us not once.
“Let’s just go in for a quick stop,” I said. “Ellis, only one bag of gummy worms, okay?”
We walked across the street and entered Loren’s Grocery. Daddy had told us that back in the day, during segregation, it was one of the only places we could shop. Even now, with all the fancy stores and specialty shops in Alton, most of the townsfolk still shopped at Loren’s because it was a tradition woven into the fabric of Warrenville. The Loren family still owned it outright, and most of them took turns minding the store. I loved this place because it was like shopping at a dear family’s home.
Ellis searched for his crush, but she wasn’t at the counter. Only Mrs. Loren was there, cracking a roll of pennies to put in the cash register. He took a long sigh and tried to hide his disappointment as he walked down the aisle to get his candy.
“Hey, y’all. Come to buy some sugar?” Mrs. Loren laughed.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
We followed Ellis down the candy aisle. He had grabbed a bag of sour gummy worms and a king-size chocolate bar. I watched Janie closely as she moved farther down to the potato chips. Jasper stood in front of the gum rack and rubbed his chin, deep in decision making.
“You can’t have both,” I told Ellis. “You have to choose.”
“I got money,” he protested. “I can buy my own stuff.”
“You remember what Mama said about cavities?” I reminded him.
“Fine.” He put the candy bar back on the shelf. “The gummy worms will last longer anyway.”
I turned when I heard Mrs. Loren greet another customer and groaned. A woman in a yellow dress with matching heels stood in front of the cash register.
“Mrs. Greene, I must say you look like new money. Aging like fine wine.”
“Thank you, Sharla. I’m on my way to the church, but I wanted to stop by and see if Old Thomas had brought anything up from his land.”
I crouched down in the aisle and motioned for the others to do so as well. Maybe if we were lucky, we wouldn’t be seen, but I already knew that wouldn’t be possible.
“No, he ain’t been in today. He’s running late. He brought some tomatoes yesterday if you want to go look but no meat. You know his daddy has been under the weather.” Mrs. Loren continued, “But your grandbabies are in here.”
“Why she gotta mention us?” Ellis mumbled. “She can’t hold water in a tank.”
“Just act normal,” I said. “It’ll be fine.”
Mrs. Greene came down the aisle, and we all stood a little straighter. She narrowed her eyes at us as she did her inspections.
“Ellis, what have you been doing?” She frowned. “Why do your knees look like you been kicking flour in a field of mud?”
“I’ve been playing basketball with Jasper,” he said.
Mrs. Greene took two of Janie’s braids, rubbing them between her fingers. “We need to find you a hair scarf before this frizz gets out of hand.”
Then our grandma turned to me. “Does your mama know you’re out here gallivanting in the streets?”
“I told Mrs. Taylor we were coming to Town Square,” I said. “We were just on our way back home.”
She studied the bag in my arms. “Why in the Lord’s name do you have rock salt?”
Jasper took it from me. “I need it for my birdbaths.”
Mrs. Greene squinted at him, and he took two steps backward, fear and uncertainty in his eyes.
“Young man, this bag is yours, but you’ve got my granddaughter holding it for you? What kind of home training have you had?”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Jasper said.
“Will we see you later at the house?” I asked hopefully.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “You’re coming with me. I need to keep an eye on you.”
Ellis and Janie frowned but didn’t say anything. They knew better. I turned to Jasper. “Good luck cleaning your birdbaths.”
Jasper looked confused for a second but then got the hint: Hold on to our rock salt until later. “Right.”
He walked to the front of the store and then turned to give us one last look of pity before he left.
Mrs. Greene took the bag of gummy worms out of my brother’s hands and put it back on the shelf. She poked his tummy. “You need to stop eating this mess. Let’s go.”
“Have a blessed day!” Mrs. Greene smiled at Mrs. Loren as she guided us out of the store. After she let the door close, she shook her head. “Someone needs to go in there and mop those floors. Such a disgrace.”
So much for summer freedom.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Deaconess
Mrs. Greene drove up the hill to the Missionary Creek Baptist Church. When I was a little girl, the church was like a home away from home; this was where Mrs. Greene spent most of her time. She was a deaconess, which meant she held a very prominent role. But not as important as the pastor’s wife, who was the first lady of the church. Still, it seemed everyone deferred to my grandma when decisions needed to be made. Granddaddy Greene had been a deacon and a proud son of Warrenville; he returned after going to Morehouse College in Atlanta. He was one of the few. Daddy said one of the reasons he came back was to pay it forward to the community that helped raise him.
We walked into the foyer of the church, and Ellis grabbed a handful of mints and stashed them in his pocket before Mrs. Greene could catch him. I stood beside Janie as she read the church community bulletin board.
Mary Jenkins had posted about her lost pet. No one had the heart to tell her the cat had gone feral and was living in the woods behind her house. Teeter Collins was still looking for someone to buy his neon-green Cadillac. Jolinda Bell announced she had started a catering service, even though she had been banned from bringing potato salad to any further church functions.
We followed Mrs. Greene into the sanctuary, where the other members of the Deaconess Board were waiting.
“Can we go downstairs?” Ellis knew there were comics and games in the children’s choir room.
“No,” Mrs. Greene said. “You’re gonna sit in the back while I attend this meeting. I want to be able to see you.”
The women of the Deaconess Board sat in the front pews: Mrs. Jackson lived on our block and brought us peaches from her family’s orchard, Mrs. Collins was a retired Fairfield County court clerk who knew Mama, and Mrs. Hudson was a retired teacher who had taught Daddy when he was in elementary school. Everyone had a connection to one another. They were all women with light skin and loose wavy hair. They could have passed for Mrs. Greene’s sisters. So different from Mrs. Whitney with her dark skin and textured hair.
I wondered if it was Mrs. Greene who had broken off the friendship. I thought of Jovita at the Alton Mall with the Jones Girls. Did my grandma drop Mrs. Whitney for these women? The questions made my stomach clench in anxious waves.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Mrs. Greene said. “I had to fetch my grandchildren. Found them running around Town Square.”
The women greeted us with hugs. There was always something comforting about getting smushed by a deaconess. Janie displayed her rotten-egg face after each woman squeezed her. She wasn’t used to the Warrenville tradition of invading personal spaces.
“Now y’all go sit down and be quiet,” Mrs. Greene said.
Janie and Ellis followed me as we went down several pews and sat toward the back. Janie pulled out her phone, and Ellis took sneaky gobbles of the church mints he had stashed away.
After the Deaconess Board said a small devotional prayer, Mrs. Hudson put on her glasses and pulled out a notebook. “We need to hammer out the details on this clothing drive.”
“The main donations we need are for men’s clothes,” Mrs. Jackson added.
“Lena, you should think about giving away some of William’s clothes to a deserving gentleman,” Mrs. Collins said. “It’s been two years now since he passed.”
My grandma gave Mrs. Collins a dagger stare. “My husband’s clothes are not up for donation. I don’t need some diminished man wearing his clothes.”
“Have you at least moved the clothes out of your bedroom?” Mrs. Hudson asked. “It’s not healthy, Lena. You’re taking this widow thing too far.”
Mrs. Greene’s face fell for a moment. It was just a flicker of emotion, but I had seen it. And just as quick as it surfaced, so did her pursed lips, straightened posture, and lifted chin. “Do I look like a widow to you?” she asked with a smirk.
• • •
After about an hour, my eyelids grew heavy, but at least I was still upright. Ellis had fallen to the side, his eyes closed and his mouth wide open, low snores escaping through his lips. Janie had slumped over as well.
I was about to give up and make a pallet of the church pew for an epic nap when something sparked my attention.
“So the festival board has officially denied Denise Whitney’s booth?” Mrs. Hudson asked. “I don’t know what that woman was thinking, trying to bring that mess to Marigold Park.”
“The dead should be left alone. They are in the arms of Jesus,” Mrs. Collins added.
“Amen,” Mrs. Greene said.
“Well, tricksters are among us. They always try to lead us astray,” Mrs. Jackson offered.
“The devil is a liar,” Mrs. Greene said. “We know the truth. God is good.”
“All the time,” the women answered in unison.
I frowned. If what Mrs. Whitney said was true, Warrenville had a lot of spiritual problems to solve. We had seen it firsthand. The haints needed to be released by their blood k
in. Maybe this is what Mrs. Whitney wanted to achieve with the booth. Many townsfolk treated the Heritage Festival as a homecoming to reconnect with family. Perhaps this was the opportunity she needed for all of the town’s blood kin to come together and release the spirits once and for all.
“I’m still mad she had the money to buy the Train Depot in the first place,” Mrs. Hudson complained. “We could have done so much with that location.”
“Have you been in her gift shop?” Mrs. Jackson asked.
“Wouldn’t be caught dead in that place.” Mrs. Greene shook her head in dismay.
“I’ve heard she’s practicing rootwork in the back room,” Mrs. Jackson whispered.
“Lord Jesus.” Mrs. Collins picked up an MLK fan and waved away the scandal of it.
“That’s not what she’s doing,” I called out.
It wasn’t until the words had escaped that I realized I had opened my mouth. The women looked at me. Mrs. Greene’s mouth was set in her trademark frown.
“How do you know what she’s doing or not doing?” Mrs. Greene said. “Why are you listening to grown folks business?”
I stood up from the pew. Janie stirred and woke up, rubbing her eyes.
“I don’t think it’s fair to make assumptions about Mrs. Whitney. At least not without hard evidence,” I said. “What you’re stating is a hypothesis. You have to prove your theory through observation.”
The other women looked at Mrs. Greene. Her cheeks were flushed pink. I had embarrassed her in front of the Deaconess Board.
“I think the heat has gotten to this child.” Mrs. Greene stood up and smoothed out her dress. “Let’s adjourn this meeting so I can take my grandchildren home.”
Janie shoved Ellis awake, and he jerked up, wiping slobber from his cheek. “What I miss?”
Mrs. Greene came down the aisle, latched on to my elbow, and dragged me out of the pew. “Don’t you ever sass me in front of my board again,” she hissed in my ear between clenched teeth.
My heart beat fast in my chest. Janie looked at me, concerned. Ellis was utterly confused. Mrs. Greene remained silent for the rest of the ride home.