by John Saul
But she turned back to look at the strange woman once again. The woman was moving steadily along the sidewalk now. At first Cassie didn’t think she was even aware of being watched. Then, when she was directly across the street, she stopped abruptly and turned to face Cassie.
Her eyes met Cassie’s and held them for a moment. Then she nodded and turned away. Moving more slowly than before, the black-clad figure continued down the street, pushing her shopping cart ahead of her.
Cassie, her heart pounding now, felt another chill as the odd figure turned the corner at the end of the block and disappeared.
In that single moment when their eyes had met, Cassie recognized the woman in black.
It was the woman she had seen in her dreams ever since the night her mother died.
The woman who had been driving her mother’s car.
The woman who was a stranger, but who—in the dream—had also been her mother.
The woman she had seen in the graveyard last night, who had spoken her name.
But it didn’t make any sense—how could she have dreamed about that woman? She’d never seen her before, had she? Again Cassie became aware of Jennifer jerking at her arm. She looked down to find the little girl staring up at her worriedly, her face streaked with tears.
“Did she look at you?” Jennifer asked, her voice sounding surprisingly younger than before.
Cassie hesitated, then nodded.
Jennifer’s eyes widened with apparent fear. “Don’t let her do that,” she said. “Don’t ever let her do that again.”
Cassie frowned, puzzled. “Don’t let her look at me?” she asked. “Why not?”
“Because she’s a witch,” Jennifer breathed, then glanced around as if she was afraid the woman might still be watching them. “She’s a witch, and she can put a hex on you just by looking at you.”
Cassie stared at the little girl in disbelief. “A witch?” she repeated at last. “Who told you that?”
“I … I don’t know,” Jennifer said uncertainly. Then, seeing that Cassie didn’t believe her, her eyes darkened. “It’s true,” she stated. “All the kids know she’s a witch. She lives out by the beach, and she’s real mean, and you have to stay away from her. And don’t ever let her look at you.”
“But, Jen, there isn’t any such thing as a witch. It’s just a story, that’s all. You’re not really afraid of her, are you?”
Jennifer’s head bobbed up and down. “Everybody’s afraid of her. She acts real crazy, and all she ever does is stay in her house, except when she pushes her grocery cart around.”
“She’s just a bag lady,” Cassie protested, despite the eerie feeling that had passed through her when the woman’s eyes had met hers. “They’re all over the place. We even had them at home. They used to wander up and down Ventura Boulevard all day, and sleep in the park, if the cops would let them. They’re just a little crazy, that’s all.”
But Jennifer shook her head. “Miranda’s different. Wendy Maynard’s mom told her that Miranda’s mother was just like her, and that all the kids were just as scared of her as we are of Miranda. And her mother lived in the same house she lives in, and nobody ever goes out there.”
Cassie stared at the little girl. It was just childish nonsense—it had to be! And yet Miranda was the woman she’d seen in her dreams—she was almost positive of it now. But how was it possible?
Her heart beat faster as she realized that she had to know more about the strange woman in black—had to find out the truth about her.
She was frightened now—very frightened. But at the same time, she was fascinated. “Do you know where she lives?” she asked Jennifer, and the little girl, after hesitating a moment, slowly nodded.
“Will you show me?”
Instantly Jennifer shook her head. “I won’t go anywhere near her house,” she said. “And if you do, I’m going to tell Mom and Dad!”
“But has she ever actually done anything to anyone?” Cassie pressed. “I mean, anything really bad?”
“I … I don’t know,” Jennifer replied. “For a long time she wasn’t even around here. When I was a little girl, she was locked up somewhere. In an insane asylum.”
“Well, then, what’s there to be afraid of? If she was dangerous, they wouldn’t have let her out, would they?”
But Jennifer wasn’t to be dissuaded. “I don’t know,” she said stubbornly. “All I know is that she’s crazy, and she’s a witch, and I bet she could kill you just by looking at you, if she wanted to. And we better go home or we’re going to get in trouble.”
“But I thought you were going to show me Dad’s boat,” Cassie said, carefully controlling the smile playing around the corners of her mouth. When Miranda had disappeared, she’d noticed, it had been in the direction of the marina. Apparently Jennifer had noticed too.
“I’ll show it to you next time,” Jennifer promised.
The bells of the Congregational Church began to peal as they started back toward Alder Street, and as the two girls drew near it, the doors opened and the crowd of morning worshipers began flowing out onto the sidewalk. Jennifer began waving to her friends, and suddenly Cassie found herself surrounded by a covey of small children, all of whom listened excitedly as Jennifer told them about having seen Miranda a few minutes before.
“And Cassie looked right at her,” Jennifer reported, her voice betraying none of the fear of a few minutes earlier. Some of the children stared up at Cassie in obvious awe. Cassie was about to say something when she felt eyes watching her. Looking up, she saw a blond girl about her own age standing just outside the church door, staring at her. Cassie raised her hand in a tentative wave, but the girl turned pointedly away from her and began talking to someone else.
Although she couldn’t hear what was being said, Cassie was almost certain the girl was talking about her. Feeling herself flush with embarrassment, she took Jennifer’s hand and drew her away from the small crowd of children. Only when they were around the corner, out of sight of the group gathered in front of the church, did she speak.
“Who was that?” she asked. “The girl who was staring at me?”
Jennifer looked up at her curiously. “I didn’t see anyone. Why would anyone stare at you?”
Cassie shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know,” she said. “But it was a blond girl—” Before she could finish, the same eerie sense that someone was staring at her came over her again. She quickly turned around.
At the corner the same girl was talking to two other girls. Both the other girls were staring at Cassie, but seeing her looking at them, they turned away.
“There,” Cassie said to Jennifer. “Who is she?”
But it was too late. Jennifer, spying her father pushing the power mower over the front lawn, had dashed ahead. Cassie hesitated, half tempted to go back to the corner and introduce herself to the three girls. But in the end, her face once again burning with the humiliation of being stared at, she hurried across the lawn and into the house.
“Cassie, is something bothering you?” Rosemary asked after dinner that evening. All of them were in the den, Jennifer sprawled on the floor, her chin propped in her hands as she watched the early movie on television. Keith was leafing through a marine catalog, while Rosemary worked on the sweater she was knitting. Cassie was curled on one end of the sofa, a book open in her lap, but Rosemary noticed that she hadn’t turned a page for the last fifteen minutes.
Startled, Cassie glanced up at her stepmother, then shook her head and went back to her book, but Jennifer rolled over on the floor and faced her mother.
“We saw Miranda in the square today,” she said. “And Cassie looked right at her.”
Rosemary glanced at Keith, who had stopped turning the pages of the catalog. When she spoke, she was careful to keep her voice neutral. “You know perfectly well that there’s no harm in looking at Miranda. As long as you weren’t staring.”
Jennifer gasped. “I wouldn’t stare at her. I won’t even look at her if I can
help it. Wendy Maynard says—”
“I know perfectly well what Wendy Maynard says,” Rosemary interrupted her, “and you know as well as I do that it’s all so much nonsense. Miranda Sikes is perfectly harmless.”
“That’s not what all the kids say,” Jennifer protested. “And when Cassie looked at her, she looked right back at Cassie too!” She shuddered, letting her imagination run away with her. “It was weird. There she was, in that awful black dress, walking along talking to herself. I made Cassie cross the street, and told her not to look, but she did it anyway.”
“I wasn’t staring,” Cassie said, closing the book. “I just looked at her, that’s all.”
“That’s all it takes,” Jennifer pronounced. “I bet she put a spell on you!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes!” Rosemary said, her voice edged with exasperation. She leaned forward and looked directly at her daughter. “Jennifer, we’ve been through this a hundred times. Miranda Sikes is a bit eccentric, but she’s perfectly harmless.”
“Then how come they locked her up?” Jennifer demanded. “How come they put her in the insane asylum?”
“But she’s not still there, is she?” Rosemary countered. “If she were still sick, they wouldn’t have let her out. She’s trying to get well, and the way you and your friends treat her doesn’t help her at all!”
Jennifer’s face crumpled at the severity of her mother’s scolding, but Rosemary couldn’t stop herself. “How would you feel if every time your friends saw you, they ran away from you? Don’t you think you might start talking to yourself and acting funny too?”
Tears welled up in Jennifer’s eyes, and she scrambled to her feet. “I didn’t do anything,” she wailed. “All I did was cross the street because I’m scared of her. I didn’t point at her or look at her or anything!” Bursting into tears, she fled from the room. A moment later her door slammed shut.
The living room was silent until Cassie spoke, her voice soft. “She didn’t stare at her, Rosemary. She didn’t do anything at all. She was just scared, because Miranda looks so strange.” She stood up, leaving her book on the couch. “I’ll go up and talk to her—”
“No!” Rosemary broke in, her voice strident. “I’ll do it. I was the one who snapped at her, not you.” She got to her feet and hurried up the stairs, but before she left the room, she saw the look on Keith’s face. Though he said nothing, she could feel his reproach at the way she’d spoken. And, of course, he was right—Cassie had only been trying to help.
After apologizing to Jennifer, she would have to apologize to Cassie too.
She found Jennifer in her room, lying facedown on the bed, her body shaking as she cried into her pillow. “Jen?” Rosemary asked quietly. “May I come in?”
When Jennifer said nothing, Rosemary entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she gathered her daughter into her arms. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, honey,” she said.
Jennifer wriggled around and looked up at her. “I didn’t do anything—” she began, but Rosemary put her fingers over the child’s lips.
“I know,” she soothed. “But I just want you to understand that when you act like you’re afraid of Miranda, it hurts her.”
“But I am afraid of her,” Jennifer protested, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “All the kids are.”
“But what I’m telling you is that you don’t have to be. She’s just a strange woman, and a little bit different from everyone else, that’s all. But she’s not wicked, and she’s not a witch. There’s no such things as witches, at least not the kind that can cast spells on people, or work magic. So there’s nothing to be afraid of. All right?”
Jennifer nodded, but Rosemary could see she wasn’t convinced. And why should she be? she thought to herself, remembering when she’d been Jennifer’s age and all her friends had been as positive as she that the woman who lived in the old house on the corner was a witch. Of course, by the time she was in her teens she’d discovered that the woman wasn’t a witch at all—she was simply an alcoholic, and perhaps agoraphobic as well. Someone to be pitied, not feared. But the old stories had certainly served to keep the neighborhood children away, which was probably what the woman had wanted all along. Maybe, after all, Miranda Sikes didn’t mind the tales that were circulated about her among the children of False Harbor.
Rosemary decided she’d said enough. “Do you want to go back downstairs and finish watching the movie?”
Jennifer shook her head. “It wasn’t any good. It was for kids.”
Her mother chuckled affectionately. “Well, preserve us from that, right?”
Jennifer nodded solemnly, then met her eyes. “Cassie said someone was staring at her in front of the church today.”
Rosemary’s smile faded. “Staring at her? Who?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see anybody. But why would anyone stare at Cassie?”
Rosemary shook her head and stood up. “Maybe no one was,” she replied. She bent over and kissed Jennifer on the forehead. “It’s eight-thirty, and I want you in bed by nine. All right?”
Jennifer automatically started to argue, but Rosemary held up an admonishing hand. “Not tonight. Nine o’clock, and not a minute later. Okay?”
Jennifer hesitated, then looked up hopefully. “Can Cassie come up and tuck me in?”
Rosemary hesitated as an emotion very much like jealousy stabbed at her. Resolutely, she put the feeling aside. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll send her up in a little while.” Then, kissing her daughter once more, she went back downstairs.
Keith had returned to his catalog, and Cassie was once more involved in her book. Rosemary went back to her knitting, but every few moments she found herself glancing at Cassie. Though Cassie was now turning the pages of the book every couple of minutes, Rosemary was still certain her stepdaughter wasn’t reading a word.
Several times Rosemary was tempted to speak to the girl, but each time she changed her mind. Later, she decided. After she’s gone upstairs, I’ll go up and talk to her.
It was almost ten when Rosemary tapped softly on Cassie’s door then let herself into the room, even before Cassie had replied. Cassie lay on the bed, her book propped up on her knees, but once again Rosemary was certain she hadn’t been reading.
“I … I thought maybe we could talk for a few minutes,” Rosemary began uncertainly. She came to perch on the edge of the bed, and reached out as if to take Cassie’s hand, but when Cassie made no response to the gesture, she pulled her own hand back. “I just thought you might like to talk,” she began again. Then, almost against her will, her eyes flicked to the empty picture frame on the dresser.
“Is that what you want to talk about?” Cassie asked immediately. “My mother’s picture?”
Rosemary felt her face burn. “N-no …” she stammered. “I mean—”
“I tore it up,” Cassie said.
Rosemary took a deep breath, then nodded. “I know,” she admitted. “I … well, I came in earlier, and I couldn’t help but notice the empty frame.” She reached out again, and this time she took Cassie’s hand in her own. “Why did you tear it up, Cassie?”
Cassie hesitated, then shook her head. “I … I don’t know. This morning when I woke up, I just couldn’t stand to look at it anymore.”
Rosemary thought she understood. “I know,” she said. “It must be terrible for you. But why didn’t you just put the picture away? After a while, when you get used to the idea of …” She faltered, then chose her words carefully. “When you get used to her being gone, you’ll want a picture of her.”
Cassie’s eyes darkened. She shook her head. “No, I won’t,” she replied, her voice low. “I don’t care if I never see a picture of her again.”
“Cassie—”
“Well, I don’t!” Cassie exclaimed. “And why should I? She never cared about me. If she had, she wouldn’t have—” She cut her own words off, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Wouldn’t have
died?” Rosemary asked gently. Cassie said nothing, and Rosemary leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair away from the girl’s forehead with her free hand. “Cassie, she didn’t die on purpose. It was an accident. She loved you very much—”
“She didn’t!” Cassie flared. “Nobody’s ever loved me. Daddy sent us away when I was just a baby, and all Mom ever did was go out! She didn’t care about me! All she ever did was tell me I wasn’t doing anything right, and she always made me feel like I was in her way! And the only reason I’m here is because Daddy had to take me!”
“No,” Rosemary protested. “That’s not true! You’re here because your father loves you, and I love you—”
Cassie sat bolt upright and jerked her hand out of Rosemary’s. Her eyes were blazing. “No you don’t. You don’t even know me! Nobody loves me. Nobody at all! And don’t tell me you know what I’m feeling! Nobody knows what I’m feeling. Nobody’s ever known what I feel!”
Once again Rosemary reached out to hold Cassie’s hand, but Cassie pulled away, her voice rising. “Leave me alone!” she yelled. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
Suddenly the door opened and Keith, his face pale, stood framed against the light from the hall. “Cassie?” he asked. “Cassie, what’s wrong?”
Cassie swung around to face her father. “Make her leave me alone,” she sobbed. “She’s not my mother and she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t have any right to come in my room! Just make her leave me alone.”
Keith stood silently for a moment, then spoke to Rosemary. “What happened?” he asked. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing,” Rosemary said helplessly. “I just came in to talk to her and—” She turned and reached out toward Cassie once again. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought—”
“Leave me alone!” Cassie screamed. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“I—” Rosemary began, but this time it was Keith who cut her off.
“I’ll take care of her,” he said. He came into the room and gestured Rosemary away, then sat on the bed, taking his daughter into his arms. “Just leave us alone a minute, okay, honey?” he asked.