Look Both Ways

by Carol J. Perry

  But had I looked both ways? Was it possible that the magic in those ancient pages held good spells, as well as bad ones? Who was I to judge? Anyway, I knew in my heart that if Bridget’s book held enough magic to preserve it from a fire of that magnitude, there wouldn’t be much point in trying to destroy it again. When I got upstairs, I made a phone call.

  “River? It’s me. Tomorrow’s Saturday, and since we both have the day off, want to come over to my place for lunch? There’s something I need to tell you. And something I need to give to you, too, if you want to accept it.”

  Was I doing the right thing? Or was passing the spell book along to River just a way to get it out of my house and off my conscience? Whatever it was, River happily agreed to join me the next day, and I hung up feeling just a little bit lighter in the conscience department.

  O’Ryan had followed me upstairs, as he usually did when he thought it was bedtime. I donned pajamas, but I wasn’t anywhere near ready for sleep. I put on a fresh pot of coffee, gave the cat a few of the kitty treats Pete had brought over, plumped up my pillows, and turned on my reading lamp. I’d just settled down with Helena’s notebook propped against my knees, mug of coffee on the bedside table, when I realized that I could see myself in the oval mirror. River had specifically warned me against that.

  Bad feng shui.

  Grumbling just a bit, I climbed out of bed, turned the mirror to the right, fluffed up the pillows again, and got back into bed. Before picking up the book, I checked the mirror. Now it reflected the kitchen window and the big yellow cat sprawled out full length along the windowsill. Much better. Maybe this place was beginning to feel like home, after all.

  The pages after Helena’s sad poem held a variety of pasted-in items. There was a blue ribbon marked BEST OF BREED and a photo of Nicky wearing a little white sailor hat, being held by Helena, who was wearing a matching one. A short nonsense poem was printed beneath the photo.

  Picky little Nicky, Mommy’s pretty pet

  Dress him up with ribbon bows, costumes, hats, and yet

  He’d rather dress like Mommy as he runs to meet his dad

  Picky little Nicky, truest friend I ever had.

  A colorful packet that had once held pansy seeds shared a page with a ticket stub from the Misery Island Sea Shuttle. A folded copy of an official-looking deed assigned a parcel of land, with all buildings, improvements, and appurtenances, to the trustees of reser va-tions. A crude hand-drawn map took up a whole page. I smiled when I saw it.

  “I feel even more as though I know you, Helena,” I said aloud. “I’m not much of an artist myself.”

  O’Ryan, hearing my voice, jumped down from his windowsill perch and joined me on the big bed.

  “Come on, cat. Let’s look at the picture together.”

  There was a shape, which looked to me like an upside-down elephant, surrounded by wavy lines, which I guessed represented water. At the top of the page she’d printed 42°32’55”N 70°47’53”W.

  “I can look it up later,” I told the cat, “but I’m sure this is the latitude and longitude of Misery Island. Think so?”

  O’Ryan said, “Mrrit,” which could mean anything, but in this case I took it to mean “Yes.”

  I pointed to a little house-shaped drawing, complete with smoking chimney, close to the southern edge of the island. “And I’ll bet this is Grandpa’s cabin.”

  O’Ryan nodded.

  Just behind the cabin was a small, curvy-edged, roundish form. “What do you think that’s supposed to be?” I tipped the notebook left, then right. “I don’t get it. Do you?”

  Out snaked a yellow paw. He lifted the page so that the edge of the previous page peeked through, displaying the seed packet.

  “Of course. It’s a pansy. Helena and her grandfather planted pansies behind the cabin, and Helena kept up the tradition.” I patted his head. “Good eye, O’Ryan. And look at this one.” I pointed to a stick figure with four legs and a tail. “That must be Nicky. Cute.”

  O’Ryan yawned, gave my hand a pink-tongued lick, curled up beside me, and closed his eyes, showing no interest in the dog—or maybe dogs in general.

  “Okay. Time for sleep, I guess.” I put the notebook on the bedside table and turned off the reading lamp. As I rearranged the pillows and snuggled under the blankets, I glanced again at the oval mirror, where the outline of the open kitchen window was dimly reflected. I thought for a moment that I saw a gray cat sitting on the fire escape outside, but the image quickly disappeared. I was about to close my eyes when the little cloud and the pinpoints of light danced across the mirror and the woman began to take form.

  I sat bolt upright and kicked off the covers. This was no small vision. Because the mirror was of the full-length variety, the vision was, too. Helena—because this was surely Helena—appeared to be life size. I scooted down to the foot of the bed, closer to the mirror. She was smiling and held the little dog in her arms. She wore jeans and a black turtleneck. Around her neck was the pink diamond pendant on a leather thong. Then she pointed to the dog’s collar. An identical pendant sparkled against the gray fur.

  I gasped. The scene in the mirror changed. Helena was still there, but this was the weeping Helena I’d seen in the giant patent-leather pump at the school. She held something in her arms, as she had before. She extended both arms toward me so that I could clearly see the small metal coffin. Then she grew smaller and smaller, until she faded away and I was once again looking at my own kitchen window.

  Two Helenas. A small coffin. And two pink diamonds. Just try to go to sleep after that.

  I finished the pot of coffee and watched Tarot Time with River North on WICH-TV, including the night’s feature movie, Zombie Apocalypse, all the way to the end.

  CHAPTER 39

  I was up early on Saturday morning, even though I’d had little sleep. Aunt Ibby wasn’t in her kitchen yet, so I picked up the morning papers from the front steps, started the coffee, and fed O’Ryan. I was anxious to tell her about the full-length-mirror visions.

  My aunt appeared in bathrobe and bunny slippers and joined me at the kitchen table. “You’re the early bird,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

  “I think so,” I said. “I found out last night that the new mirror, the oval one I bought in Essex? I can see visions in it, too.”

  “Visions? Like the ones in the mirror in the bureau? Or in Ariel’s obsidian ball?”

  I nodded. “Like those. Only much, much bigger.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Two different visions. Both of Helena. One of them was almost exactly the same way I saw her in the black shoe.”

  “Was she cr ying?”

  “She was, and she was carrying something in her arms.”

  Aunt Ibby leaned forward, her hands clasped together. “This time, could you see what it was?”

  Thinking about it brought tears to my eyes. “It was a small metal coffin,” I told her. “I’m afraid it was her little dog, Nicky.”

  “No wonder she was crying. You say there were two visions. What was the other one?”

  “It was even stranger. She showed me two pink diamonds. One was on the dog’s collar. All the visions I’ve seen have had good reasons behind them, and this one must be important, as well.”

  She poured us each a cup of coffee. “Let’s think about what she’s shown you so far. It started with the scene on the beach, didn’t it? Where she threw the stick to the dog?”

  “Right. And later I saw the old man and the cabin.”

  “Between what you’ve seen in the various surfaces and what we’ve learned from Helena’s notebook, everything is connected to the old cabin on Misery Island, her grandfather, and Nicky the dog.”

  “Right,” I said, excited. “And there’s a map in her notebook that ties those three things together. Wait a minute. I’ll show you.” I ran all the way up the two flights of stairs to my apartment, grabbed Helena’s book, and was back in the kitchen in minutes. “Here. Look at this.”
I turned to the bookmarked page and put it on the table in front of her.

  She studied the map without speaking, turning it this way and that, just as I had.

  “Are you trying to figure out what the cur vy, round thing is? O’Ryan knew what it was right away. A pansy.”

  “Of course. I can see it now. There’s the grandfather’s house, the place where they planted the grandmother’s favorite flowers, and the little dog Nicky.” She snapped her fingers. “Maralee, could you see where Helena was when she first showed you the dog’s coffin?”

  “She was on a long, empty stretch of beach, all alone.”

  “Well, then, do you think she might have buried Nicky out there, too?”

  “That’s just the kind of thing she’d do,” I said. “That explains that. Thanks, Aunt Ibby.”

  “You’re welcome, dear. Want a blueberry muffin with your coffee?” She stood, opened the freezer, and removed a package of muffins. “I made them.”

  “Love one,” I said, then frowned. “But why does Helena want us to know where she buried her dog?” I was pretty sure I knew, but it seemed too crazy to be believed.

  She popped a couple of muffins into the microwave. “Maybe River would have some ideas.”

  “She’s coming over for lunch,” I said. “Maybe between us and her deck of cards, we’ll figure it all out.”

  By lunchtime I’d done a little housework in my apartment, made some sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade, and carried the still unopened cardboard box down from the attic. This time, although he’d accompanied me up to the fourth floor, O’Ryan hadn’t attempted to prevent me from picking the thing up, and thankfully, there were no cats yowling at the window.

  I’d told River to call me when she was on the way so that I could go downstairs and unlock the back door. She called just before noon.

  “More news about Helena,” I told her. “More puzzles to figure out. She drew a map and I think it’s important. Maybe you can figure it out. Got cards?”

  She laughed. “Yep. Playing with a full deck today. See you in a minute.”

  I disarmed the alarm system and unlocked the downstairs door, then ran back up to my kitchen, set the table, and waited for my friend.

  The bell chimed “Bless This House,” and I opened the door.

  “Thanks for inviting me. I’m star ving,” she said. “Skipped breakfast. Dying to know what’s new about Helena.” She looked around the living room. “Wow. New furniture since I was here last. Looks good. Move that lamp, though. It’s interrupting the energy. Never mind. I’ll do it.” She unplugged the floor lamp and moved it to the opposite end of the couch, then stood back to admire her handiwork. “There. That’ll work.”

  “Don’t know what I’d do without you to keep my bagua straight. I even found a picture of fruit and hung it where you told me to.” I laughed. “Come on. I’ll feed you and tell you what Helena showed me last night.”

  Once we were in the kitchen, River nodded her approval of the new watercolor, then looked at the long, still rather dusty cardboard box I’d placed on the counter. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

  “Later,” I said. “I’ll tell you about that later. First, have lunch, and I’ll show you what I’ve found in Helena’s notebook.”

  The sandwiches were all of the vegetarian variety, since the last time River had shared a meal here, I’d noticed that she’d fed all the pepperoni on the pizza to the cat. After we’d polished off the plate of sandwiches, and as River nibbled on one of Aunt Ibby’s sugar cookies, I carried the notebook from the bedroom and put it on the kitchen table, opened to Helena’s map.

  I pointed out the symbols one at a time. “That’s the latitude and longitude of Misery Island. I looked it up,” I said. “You know the place?” She nodded. “There’s the grandfather’s cabin, and behind it is the place where she and the old man used to plant pansies every summer, because they were her grandmother’s favorite flower.”

  “Got it,” she said. She touched the stick figure. “And that’s the little dog. Nicky. The one the license belonged to.”

  “Right. Now, here’s the part about the vision I saw last night. It was in the new full-length mirror, so everything was life size.”

  “Wow. Scar y, huh?”

  I thought about that. “Not so much. It was mostly sad. Some of it was the same vision I saw in the shoe, when she was carrying something in her arms. This time I could see what it was. A small metal coffin, just about the right size for a small gray dog.”

  “Nicky died.”

  “Yes. And there was more. I saw Helena and Nicky together, and, River, they were both wearing pink diamond pendants.”

  “Are you thinking it’s possible that there were actually two of them? Two diamonds?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it’s some kind of symbolism. I don’t know.” I pushed the notebook toward her. “There’s a poem in there about looking both ways. Maybe that’s why she showed me two.” I shrugged. “The receipt from the vet for putting Nicky down is pasted in the book, too. Look through it. Take your time.”

  She leafed through the pages, pausing to read the poems and to examine the pasted-in items one by one. Finally, she leaned back in the Lucite chair. “I don’t know what it all means,” she said, “but I don’t have to read your cards to tell you what you need to do next.”

  “I need to go out to that island,” I said.

  “Yep. As soon as you can.”

  “Pete and I are going tomorrow. Want to come with us?”

  “Wish I could. But I need my sleep. I have to work tomorrow night.”

  “On Sunday? Why?”

  She made a little pouty face. “Special edition of Tarot Time. Mr. Pennington’s idea. I’ll be doing readings for the whole cast of Our Town. A little extra promotion for the play. But it’s okay. The station’s paying me double. But you said you have something to give to me? If I want to take it?” She looked again at the dusty box on the counter. “Is that it?”

  I nodded. There was a lump in my throat. Would my friend hate me when I told her the truth about what I’d done to Bridget Bishop’s book?

  I cleared away the dishes, wiped the dust from the top of the box, and put it on the table in front of her. “You don’t have to open it, now or ever, unless you want to,” I said, then sat opposite her and took a deep breath. Once I began speaking, the truth came spilling out. I told her how I’d discovered Bridget Bishop’s spell book in the pocket of Ariel’s purple cape. I’d been wearing that cape when Aunt Ibby and I were trapped in the attic of our house with a murderer, who’d set the place ablaze. I’d read about what malicious things Bridget Bishop had done back in 1690, and I knew, too, what vile things Ariel had learned to do. As far as I could see, none of it was good. I’d seen my chance to end the evil, and as my aunt and I escaped the raging fire, I’d thrown the book back into the consuming flames.

  “The fire didn’t burn it,” I said. “Probably didn’t even singe it. It’s back, and I’m sure it’s in this box. I know you and your friends have been searching for it ever since Ariel died. I may have been wrong. Maybe there are good spells in it, too. Maybe something to benefit today’s world. It’s up to you now, and I hope you can forgive me.”

  I watched her face. She reached for the box and touched it lightly with one finger, then looked at me. “It’s a big responsibility, isn’t it? You may have been right about it in the first place. I don’t know. Some say that certain people in Salem just had it in for Bridget because she was pretty and she used to wear a scarlet corset over her black dress, something like a bustier, I guess, and she worked as a barmaid.” She patted the top of the box. “On the other hand, a lot of people testified against her in the trial back then. Some of the things they said she did are kind of hard to explain. People who had crossed her seemed to have accidents—bad ones. And they said she could change shape, and they knew that she controlled cats and birds.” She shrugged. “I’ll take it with me, but I’m not going to tell the others
about it yet. I’ll see what the cards tell me. She stood, and picked up the box. “The cards never fail. And, Lee, there’s nothing to forgive.”

  Together we traced our steps back through the living room and with the box under her arm, River started down the stairs. She paused and looked back at me. “I have a feeling your trip to Misery Island will answer some of your questions.” She lifted the box a few inches. “And don’t worry about this. I’ll take good care of it.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Did I do the right thing? I could only hope so. At least it was one less puzzling item on my mind. I still had gazing problems, not knowing what reflective surface was going to spring a vision on me at any given moment. I still didn’t know which, if any, of the blue-eyed, blond men I was supposed to beware of. My quandary about how much to tell Pete about my so-called gift and when to tell him hadn’t improved one bit, either.

  Aunt Ibby had made reservations for the four of us on the Misery Island shuttle boat for Sunday. “I’ll pack a lunch in our old wicker picnic basket,” she said. “It will be such fun.”

  “Do you think there’d be room in the basket for a small pansy plant?” I asked. “I’d like to put one out there for Helena’s grandmother.”

  “That’s a kind and loving idea, Maralee,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

  “Good. I’ll take a ride over to the nursery and pick one out.”

  “As long as you’re going over there,” she said, “why don’t you pick up a nice variety of them for our garden, too? I love pansies. They have such sweet little faces.”