Crandalls' Castle

by Betty Ren Wright

  I’m telling you all this little stuff because I want you to see how ordinary it was and how unprepared I was for what came next.

  The kids dropped back, giggling, so that by the time I rounded the next curve, I was alone again. What I saw then, as clearly as I’d seen the cottages behind me, was the Crandalls’ gray house. It was a couple of hundred feet away and directly ahead, so that the road I was on ended at the porch steps.

  I stopped. I knew the house wasn’t really there, but I wasn’t scared, not at first. It looked so peaceful—toys on the steps and on the porch, the screen door hanging open because the spring was shot—all just as I’d left it. Except, it was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  I told myself the twins and Mickey could have gone away with Dan—maybe across the street to Charli’s house—but I didn’t believe it. Suddenly I was terrified. The house had appeared because something awful was happening. It was the awful thing I’d sensed that night I met the Crandalls for the first time. And I hadn’t tried to warn them—not then, not ever. It had always been more important to keep quiet.

  All the way back to Lincoln Street I prayed, Let me be wrong. Let the kids be where I left them. But then I saw Lilly come out of Mrs. Kramer’s house on the corner with Dan and Charli, and I stopped praying. If God heard what I was asking, the answer was definitely NO!

  Dan said, “The kids are gone. We thought they might have walked down the block to meet Mom, but she stopped in to see—”

  “Call the police, Dan!” Lilly interrupted. Her blue eyes were bigger than ever, and her face was white. “They can’t be far. Unless someone picked them up …” Her voice shook.

  “They’ve gone to the Castle,” I said. “They can see it from your yard. Will talks about it so much they think it’s a big deal—like a castle in a picture book.”

  “The Castle,” Lilly repeated. “How can you possibly know—”

  “I do know!” I yelled. “I do! That’s where they’re going, and we have to stop them!”

  I started to run again, and after a moment I heard the others running behind me. When we reached the house (toys on the porch steps, just as I’d seen them), I cut around to the backyard. The kids would have used the road that wound around to Barker Street—no way could they push Mickey’s stroller through the field. We took the shortcut.

  “If that’s really where they went, they won’t be able to get in,” Dan panted as we dashed through the trees and out into the field.

  “They can,” I said without slowing down. “The plumber’s coming today. Will said he’d leave the door unlocked for him.”

  I could see it all clearly—the twins dragging Mickey’s stroller up the steps, Terry opening the door, stepping inside …

  Someone stumbled and fell behind me, and I thought, Poor Lilly, how can she run in her best shoes? Charli sobbed and Dan muttered, “This is crazy!” but we kept on going.

  That was the fastest I’ve ever run. I felt as if I was barely touching the ground. When I came out into Barker Street, Jake was on the curb, staring at the Castle. His face was pale under a layer of grime.

  “They went in there,” he said, before I could ask if he’d seen two small boys pushing a baby’s stroller. He pointed across the street with an expression that said you wouldn’t catch him in there again—not ever.

  “What’d he say?” Dan demanded. “Are they here?”

  I nodded, and we raced across the street. We were all together again; Lilly had lost her shoes, and she and Charli ran hand in hand. Dan threw open the Castle door.

  Gene and Terry must have been huddled just inside. Dan’s shove sent them sprawling across the tiles, where they landed in a tangle, shrieking. When they saw Lilly, they scrambled up and buried their faces in her skirt.

  I stared at the empty stroller. That was the worst moment of my entire life—up to then, that is. The very worst was still ahead.

  We all yelled, “Where’s Mickey?” and Lilly tried to push the twins away so they could answer. They clung to her and cried as if they’d never stop.

  She grabbed Terry’s shoulders and shook him. “Tell us where Mickey is, hon,” she said. “Did you leave him somewhere?”

  Terry didn’t answer, but Gene turned around, one fist still clutching the skirt. He pointed at the stairs.

  “We didn’t leave him anywhere!” He sounded outraged. “We wouldn’t ever! A lady took him up there. She said to wait here till she came back.”

  Dan and I were halfway up the stairs before he finished, and Charli was right behind us. I know I’ve called her a crybaby, but she’s a pretty good kid after all. She’d spent the last few days trying to figure out a way to keep from ever seeing the inside of the Castle again, but there she was.

  At the top of the stairs, she pointed down the hall to the right. “Down there,” she said. “The last room. Remember, Dan?”

  Now we could hear Mickey crying. I wanted to cry myself. His sobs sounded muffled and very far away.

  “Where is he?” Lilly gasped. She was struggling up the stairs, dragging the twins behind her.

  Dan reached the last door before I did and opened it.

  A blast of dank, icy air hit us. Wind roared through the room, almost drowning Mickey’s screams. There was another sound, too. A woman was singing “Rock-a-bye Baby” in a horrible shrill voice.

  Gene and Terry burst into howls, and Lilly dragged them back, away from the door. Dan and Charli and I clung to one another—the wind was that strong—and stared at the bed in the middle of the room. The quilt—the same one that had been on the chair downstairs the last time I saw it—was on the bed, and someone was struggling beneath it. It was a small someone, kicking, crying, choking. The quilt clung to him as if it were alive.

  We tried to run to the bed, but the wind was like a wall pushing us backward. Then the lullaby changed to laughter. Dan lunged forward, pulling Charli and me with him, and we all grabbed the edge of the quilt.

  It was just an ordinary quilt, worn and faded, but when we pulled, it didn’t move. Not one inch! It was as if steel fingers held it down over that struggling little shape.

  I screamed, and Charli screamed, too. Dan yelled, “Pull”—as if we weren’t! The wind knocked me to my knees, and when I stood up it pushed me sideways. I bumped into Charli and she bumped Dan, and for a second I thought we were all going over like dominoes. But we held on. Charli yelled, “Jennifer! Jennifer!” as if she could actually see who was holding down the quilt.

  Then it was over. The quilt flew off the bed, and all three of us crashed into the wall behind us. The wind and the laughter stopped. Mickey lay in the middle of the shabby mattress, limp as a doll, his eyes closed. I thought he was dead.

  That was it—the very worst moment of my life. I’ll never forget it, and I’m sure the others won’t either. It was probably only seconds that we stood there, unable to move, but it seemed much longer until his eyelids fluttered, and he began to cry.

  Dan scooped him up and handed him to Lilly, who was in the doorway. She looked as if she was going to faint, with Terry clutching one of her knees and Gene the other. Then we all crowded out into the hall. I was afraid to turn my back on that awful room and I guess Dan and Charli felt the same way. We didn’t start to run until Dan slammed the door. Then I grabbed Gene and Dan picked up Terry, and we took off. Charli snatched up the stroller at the foot of the stairs, and we burst out the front door.

  Jake was still there. He got an eyeful—three little boys sobbing and the rest of us looking scared out of our skulls. He’d have a lot to tell all his pals who had missed the show!

  When we reached the field Dan set Gene on his feet and took the stroller from Charli. Lilly said, “Watch for my shoes,” and I realized that was the first time any of us had spoken. “I don’t remember where I lost them,” she said, like a tired little girl.

  I wondered what she was thinking. She didn’t know Charli had been convinced there were ghosts in the Castle since the first day she went inside.
She hadn’t heard about William Herndon’s insane aunt Jennifer. She must have a million questions rattling around in her head, along with one particular one I didn’t want to answer.

  We got as far as the sandbox in the Crandalls’ backyard. It was raining by then—just a fine mist that actually felt good. Lilly slumped on the edge of the box with Mickey, sound asleep, in her arms. The twins pressed against her on either side, and Charli and Dan and I stood in front of her.

  “All right, tell me,” she said. “Somebody please explain what happened back there.”

  I looked at Charli, and so did Dan. She was the one who had believed, and we had brushed her off. Her voice trembled as she repeated the William Herndon story and described what she and Dan had heard when they went to the Castle together.

  “Why didn’t you tell us all this?” Lilly asked. She didn’t sound angry, just puzzled.

  Charli said, “Ray doesn’t believe in ghosts. He’d think I was trying to get out of work.”

  “But what about Uncle Will? You could have told him.”

  Dan answered. “I told her not to. I told her Dad would consider a ghost a—an added attraction. And you”—he sounded apologetic—“you always think he’s right.”

  Lilly nodded. She looked down at Mickey and then at me, and at that moment Gene announced that he was hungry.

  I could have hugged him. “Come on,” I said, “I’ll make a sandwich for you.”

  We were safely in the back hall when I heard the question I’d been dreading. “I don’t understand any of this,” Lilly said. “How did Sophia know where the boys had gone? How could she be so sure?”

  I waited long enough to hear Charli answer for me. “Sophia knows stuff before it happens,” she said. “She told me so.”

  It sounded crazy, but no crazier than the rest of what she’d been explaining. I held my breath, waiting for Lilly to say “Don’t be silly, that’s not possible.” What she said was, “Thank God!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  CHARLI

  “Okay if we hang out here for a while?” Dan loomed in the kitchen doorway with Mickey on his shoulders. The twins crowded close behind him. “We just got kicked out of our house, more or less.”

  “Dan, shame on you!” Charli’s mom hurried to fill a plate with chocolate chip cookies while Ray pulled extra chairs up to the table. “Your mother would never kick you out, no matter what awful thing you did! She has the patience of a saint.”

  Dan gave cookies to Gene and Terry and broke one in half for Mickey. “She’d have thrown Sophia out, too,” he said, “if she weren’t already hiding upstairs in her bedroom.”

  “Sophia hiding?” Ray frowned. “I doubt that. What’s going on over there, anyway?”

  Charli kept her eyes on her empty soup bowl, not wanting to meet Dan’s incredulous gaze. Of course she hadn’t told her folks anything, not yet. Of course she was going to do it—maybe after supper, when Ray was relaxing in his favorite chair with another cup of coffee.

  “Sophia isn’t in some kind of trouble, is she?” Rona asked anxiously.

  Charli couldn’t keep still any longer. “Sophia saved Mickey’s life today, that’s all!” she blurted out. “The ghost in the Castle was going to smother him, but Sophia knew where he was, and—”

  “Charli,” Ray interrupted sternly, “don’t talk nonsense. Just tell us what happened, without the spooks!”

  “She can’t tell it without a spook, Ray,” Dan said. “No way! There is a ghost in that place, and Charli’s the only person who was sure of it—until today.” He faltered under Ray’s disgusted glare. “Ask Mom,” he said. “She’ll tell you. She saw the whole thing.”

  “Saw what whole thing?” Rona asked. “What are you talking about?”

  Charli sneaked a glance at Ray. This was even worse than she’d feared it would be. His face was red, and he looked as if he might explode. He would never believe there was a ghost, even if Aunt Lilly said it was true.

  Right now he’s probably wishing he’d never married us, she thought. He’s wondering how he ever got mixed up with such a goofy family!

  The first notes of “Yankee Doodle” sounded from the street, providing a welcome interruption. Gene and Terry raced down the hall to the front door with Dan in pursuit.

  “Not yet, you guys,” he called. “Mom wants to talk to Dad for a while—alone!”

  Charli squirmed unhappily. When Dan didn’t return, she took off her glasses and pretended to examine them.

  “Hey, I need new frames,” she said. “These are bent.” She held them out, but her mother and Ray ignored them.

  “Don’t change the subject,” Ray growled. “Tell us what this is about and skip the trimmings.”

  A low whistle came from the hall. “Will you look at that!” Dan exclaimed in a wondering voice.

  Charli didn’t need a second invitation. She bounded from her chair and ran to the front door.

  She saw Uncle Will first. He was getting out of his truck, and he looked more rumpled than usual. Then she saw Aunt Lilly on the front porch.

  But was it really Aunt Lilly? She looked taller, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. Even at this distance, Charli imagined sparks in those gentle blue eyes.

  “Good grief!” Ray muttered. He and Rona had joined them at the door. “Lilly looks like Joan of Arc going into battle!”

  Charli didn’t know much about Joan of Arc, but she held her breath as Uncle Will climbed the porch steps. His head was down, so he didn’t notice Aunt Lilly until he almost bumped into her. Then he, too, stared in astonishment.

  “She’s telling him something,” Charli whispered. “What’s she saying?” She strained to hear, but Aunt Lilly spoke softly. Softly, but not fooling around, Charli thought. No smile. No laughing. Just a steady torrent of words that seemed to hit Uncle Will like hailstones.

  “She has to be telling him what happened,” Dan said. “Boy is she ever telling him!”

  “But what did happen?” Rona demanded. “Why won’t you and Charli explain what your mother is so upset about?”

  “We did,” Dan said. “You didn’t believe us.”

  Charli felt as if she were watching a play. The stage was the Crandalls’ porch, and the actors, her beloved Aunt Lilly and Uncle Will, were playing unfamiliar, painful roles.

  “We shouldn’t be watching this,” Rona murmured, but nobody moved. Even the twins were silent.

  Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the conversation ended. Well, it hadn’t been a real conversation, Charli decided. Uncle Will had nodded a few times, but he hadn’t said a word. When Aunt Lilly went into the house, he slumped heavily on the porch swing and ran his fingers through his mop of gray hair.

  “Poor Dad,” Dan said, and Charli glanced up at him in surprise. Lately he’d been angry with Uncle Will all the time, but now he sounded sorry for him. “Come on, kids. I guess we can go home now.”

  Charli wanted desperately to go with them, but she didn’t dare. “It’s none of our business,” Ray would say, even though he’d been as curious as she was about what was happening. She watched as the twins climbed into the swing and Uncle Will took Mickey on his lap. Dan leaned against the porch railing. It is, too, our business, Charli thought. She had always been a part of what happened to the Crandalls.

  “Look, he’s beckoning!” she exclaimed. “Let’s go. Please!”

  To her surprise, Ray didn’t argue.

  “Got something to tell you,” Uncle Will said when they had joined him on the porch. “Maybe it’ll be a relief to you after that scare this afternoon, but still it’s a big disappointment.” He smiled sadly at Charli. “You and Sophia have put in a lot of work, but I have to tell you there isn’t going to be a Crandalls’ Castle.”

  They stared at him.

  “But you’ve bought the place, Dad,” Dan said. “All that money!”

  “Most of our savings,” Uncle Will admitted. “It would probably take everything we have before it’d be ready for paying guest
s. I’ve spent the day talking to people I thought would want to invest, but so far nobody’s interested.”

  Charli looked sideways at Ray. If he said “I told you so!” she’d never forgive him.

  “But that’s not the reason I’m quitting,” Uncle Will said. “Money isn’t everything, you know. I’d have figured out a way.…” He glanced toward the sagging screen door. “It’s Lilly. She doesn’t want any of our family to go inside the place again. Including me! She says she’s never insisted on having her way before, which is true, but she’s insisting now. And I have to respect that. She’s a wonderful woman.”

  “Amen to that,” Ray said. “Did she tell you what scared her off?” He cocked his head at Charli. “We’re having a little trouble finding out.”

  “There’s a haunted bedroom,” Uncle Will said. “I’ve always said a ghost would be an advantage in a bed-and-breakfast, but Lilly says no. She says Mickey got up there and was nearly suffocated. If it hadn’t been for Sophia—she guessed where he was so they got there in time.…”

  Ray sighed and gave up. “Where is Sophia?” he asked. “It sounds as if she deserves congratulations.”

  “I’ll get her,” Charli offered quickly. She hurried inside and up the stairs, eager to get away from Uncle Will’s disappointment. She didn’t want him to know his bad news had made her feel absolutely wonderful.

  She knocked on the door of the catchall room, and Sophia said, “Come in,” in a voice as sad as Uncle Will’s.

  The room had changed. Boxes had been pushed under the bed or stacked in a corner, and white curtains tied back with blue ribbons matched the quilt on the bed. Sophia sat on the side of the bed writing in a book.

  “What’s that?” Charli asked, suddenly shy. “A diary?”

  She half-expected to be told it was private business, but Sophia just shrugged.