The California Coven Project

by Bob Stickgold

  Maggie smiled. “It depends on your point of view, I’m afraid. Because I suspect that the A.M.A. would look on it as practicing medicine without a license, a rather nasty criminal offense.”

  Beckie looked surprised. “I never thought of that. Would it hold?”

  “That’s irrelevant, Beckie. If they decide to push it, it’ll take all your time for two or three years to get off, and you’ll be in debt to some lawyer for the rest of your life. You’ll remember we went through all that in the late ’70s, when they busted the clinic for the same thing.

  “The point is,” Maggie continued, “that the issue we want to fight on is not whether I am in fact practicing medicine without a license. The issue is whether I’ve found a cure for cancer, and whether the medical profession can accept the fact that the patient is an important part of that cure.”

  “So where does that leave us?” Beckie asked.

  “Well, for one thing, it leaves us not wanting to involve the Midwives Association at all, at least until we’re sure we’ve got a cure, and then taking it very slow. If the A.M.A. is coming down on us because they feel that we’re cutting in on their province with our midwifery, imagine how intense they’ll get if we begin curing sickness!”

  “Do you think we should hold off on the cancer cure for a while?”

  Maggie frowned. “No, let’s just keep it separate from the N.M.A. for now. I guess what we should do is quietly look for another cancer patient to try it on. it’ll be tricky.”

  Beckie shrugged. “There’re enough of them, God knows. We shouldn’t have too much trouble coming up with one.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” Maggie said. “I mean I’m not sure just what the cure really is, what it is that Mom had to do, for example, to make that medicine work. So when we find a new patient, what is it we want to do?” She frowned again. “We know so damn little about this thing! I mean, assuming the treatment really did cure Mom, did her attitude, her involvement, really make the difference? Did I just make the medicine up differently the second time? Does it just take two treatment periods to work? These are all things that we have to sort out before we start getting public attention, and I don’t know how long I can keep Krueger off my back.”

  “Do you think he’ll be a problem?” Beckie asked.

  Maggie nodded her head vigorously. “Of course. Wouldn’t you be? I never should have admitted I had anything to do with it. Then he would have let it slide as just one more spontaneous remission.”

  “That’s it, Maggie! Convince him It was a spontaneous remission!” Beckie’s mouth broke into a wide grin. “Tell him you drove up and down the coast of California, and lit a candle in Ann’s name at all of the old missions, and that’s what you think caused her cure.”

  Maggie was shocked. “I don’t know what he’d say, but he’d think I’d gone off the deep end.” She thought it over, laughed, then, putting an arm around Beckie, gave her a half-hug. “You’re right,” she announced. “He’ll drop it so fast, it’ll be hard to see. The only thing ill regret is the change in his opinion of me.”

  “It’s just as well,” Beckie replied. “That way, he’s less likely to stumble onto what we’re really doing. And besides,” she added, “when we finally announce the cure, you won’t have to worry about his opinion anymore.” Smiling, she returned Maggie’s hug.

  “Well, I’ll talk to him within the week. That should solve that problem.”

  “So we look for another patient?”

  Maggie nodded. “And keep working on the Midwives thing.”

  Beckie looked at her watch. “Well, it’s after midnight, and you told Carol you’d be home.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “THERE it is again!”

  Carol and Melanie sat on Maggie’s bed. It was almost eleven, and they were using Maggie’s room because it was farthest from Ann’s. They sat calmly for two or three minutes, until they heard the sound again. “It came from over there,” Melanie insisted, pointing toward a door in the corner. “Is it a closet?”

  Carol shook her head. “It’s my mom’s study,” she whispered. Silently, they both moved toward the door.

  Melanie tried the doorknob, but it was locked. They both listened. The sound came again. “It is!” Melanie whispered. “it’s coming from in there. Is there any way to get in?”

  “Of course there is,” Carol replied. “She keeps a spare key in the back of one of her drawers.” Crossing the room to a large bureau, she pulled out the middle drawer. With a flourish, she pulled out the key. “Ta-da!” She quickly unlocked the study door, then returned to the dresser. “Don’t open it!” she whispered to Melanie. “I want to see, too.”

  “Well, hurry up, then.”

  Putting the key back in the drawer, and closing it carefully, Carol turned and hurried back to the door. “I’ll catch hell if Mom finds me in here, so I want to be ready to split fast if she comes in.”

  Opening the door, they both peered in. Melanie felt around for the light switch on the dark wall.

  “No!” Carol whispered, pulling Melanie’s hand back. “Mom could see that from halfway down the block. Go on in.” Giving her a little shove, Carol followed close behind Melanie, and closed the door behind her.

  Melanie pushed back against Carol. “I can’t see a thing!” she complained.

  “Well wait a minute, will you? Your eyes will adapt.” Squirming, Melanie continued to push back, trying to get behind Carol, who steadfastly kept her back against the door. “But what if that thing’s loose in here?” Melanie squealed.

  As if on cue, the noise came again, much louder.

  “Aiee!” Both screamed simultaneously. Suddenly, the light went on. Turning, Carol saw Melanie’s hand on the switch. She was white as a sheet. They looked around the room quickly, reassuring themselves that no large beasts were loose.

  In the light everything seemed more reasonable. “Dummy,” Carol complained. “Whadja go getting all scared about?”

  “Me? You’re the one who screamed.”

  “Well you did, too.”

  “Yeah, but only after you did,” Carol stood her ground. “Besides, why’d you turn the light on. I told you not to.”

  Melanie stuck out her lip. “So turn it off, wise guy.” She moved her hand off the switch, and offered it to Carol. “And you’ll be able to see more if you don’t keep your back flat against the wall.”

  “Well, we might as well take a quick look around, as long as the light’s on already.” Moving past Melanie, she cautiously started a search of the room. After a minute the noise came again, from right near Melanie’s feet. Dropping to the ground, she peered under a low coffee table covered with journals and found: “An aquarium!”

  “What?’ Carol asked, coming over.

  “Its an aquarium, full of frogs!” Melanie tugged it from under the table. Indeed, as she did, a series of grunts and croaks emanated from within. “That’s where our mysterious noises come from.”

  Carol peered inside. There were at least twenty of them, mostly piled on top of one another in one corner of the container. A few sat lazily in the inch-deep water that covered the bottom of the aquarium. Looking under the table, Carol pulled out a small box “Frog food,” she announced. There was also a pamphlet in the box. “‘Your Pet Frog,’” she read aloud, and turned it so Melanie could see.

  Melanie looked at Carol eyes wide open, the question obvious, but unspoken.

  “Come on,” Carol said, jumping to her feet. “Let’s put this stuff back. I still don’t want to get caught in here.”

  Melanie pushed the aquarium back under the table. “Me neither.” They turned off the light and scurried from the room. Carol checked to make sure the door locked behind her.

  “Why don’t we go to your room? Melanie suggested. Agreeing, Carol quickly straightened Maggie’s bed and followed Melanie out of the room. She took one last look at the study door before turning off the light.

  In Carol’s room, recovering from their escapade
, they sat a minute in silence. Finally, Melanie’s curiosity got the best of her. “Carol, what are they for?”

  Carol shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “Does she do experiments in there?” she asked. “Does she cut them up and use them in some kind of science stuff?”

  Carol made a face. “Don’t be gross. Of course she doesn’t. If she did any experiments at all, she’d do them down at the clinic, where they’ve got all that equipment.”

  Melanie was not convinced. “Maybe it’s secret stuff, that no one else is supposed to know about.”

  “God, you sure can be dumb.”

  “Well, then what are they for, smartie?”

  Carol frowned. “I told you, I don’t know—I’m not supposed to go into her study, and I’m not supposed to know where the spare key is, either. How am I going to explain how I found the frogs, huh?”

  “You could just tell her about hearing the noise. You wouldn’t have to tell her we went into the office.”

  Carol frowned, but didn’t reply.

  Melanie sensed that conversation had reached its end. “Your mom at a meeting?”

  “Huh? Oh, no. She went out with one of the women she works with. There seems to be some kind of trouble brewing about their delivering babies.”

  “They in trouble for something?” Melanie asked,

  Carol shrugged “Nah, I don’t think so. I think it’s just the doctors want all the business to themselves.”

  “But I thought there weren’t enough doctors to start with.”

  Carol shook her head. “Honestly, Melanie, sometimes you are beyond belief.”

  “Does this mean your mom might lose her job?” Melanie asked.

  “No,” she answered slowly. “I don’t think so. She didn’t seem to be particularly worried about the situation, anyhow. I think it’s like when Flynn calls us into his office to scream about something we’ve done. You just have to take shit from the guy for a while, and then, at the worst, you have to look embarrassed, and say you’re sorry.” She made her best sincere-repentance face and the two of them rolled on the bed, laughing. Suddenly Carol stopped and hopped off the bed. Going over to the front window, she pulled the curtain aside and looked out. “Aha!” she said. “Old eagle ears strikes again. That was my mom’s friend’s car starting up. They’re back home.”

  * * *

  “Hi, Mom.” Carol smiled at her, but didn’t get up from the table. “I’ve got water on the stove if you want something.”

  “No thanks, Carol, I think I’m going straight to bed.” She smiled the eternal smile of a mother. Turning to Melanie, she said hello.

  “Hi, Maggie. Did you have a pleasant evening?”

  Maggie stopped at the door to the hall. “Quite pleasant, and I hope you did, too?”

  Melanie smiled. “Oh, we had a great time.” She paused just an instant “Say, do you have toads outside, around your house?”

  Maggie thought a second and then shook her head. “No, not that I’m aware of.”

  “Oh” Melanie replied innocently. “Because Carol and I were talking to each other in your room—so we wouldn’t disturb your mother—and we thought we heard some toads or something. You know, little croaking sounds.”

  Maggie stared at her. There was a bit too much innocence in her style. She threw a quick glance at Carol and saw her staring angrily at Melanie. What to say? “Well, a lot of the houses around here do have them, so I wouldn’t be surprised if we did, too. But I think they’re pretty innocuous. In fact, don’t they eat tons of insects?”

  “Huh?” Melanie’s mind was obviously elsewhere. “Oh yeah, I guess they do.” She paused a second.

  “Well, good night you two,” Maggie yawned. “I’m going to bed.” Turning to Carol, she added, “And don’t you stay up too late. There’s school tomorrow.”

  “I know!” Carol complained.

  “Good.” Maggie turned and headed for her bedroom. Once in it, she turned on the light and closed the door. She checked the door to her study. Locked. She had been afraid that she might have left it unlocked. There was no need to get Carol all involved in her doings if she didn’t have to. She had enough problems without that. She lay down without taking off her clothes, planning to undress “in just a minute.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  ON Wednesday Carol arrived home from school at three. Ann’s door was closed. Carol quickly wandered through the house to make sure Maggie was still at work, then went straight for her mother’s room. She quickly retrieved the key from the dresser drawer, opened the study door, and returned the key. Nervously, she slipped into Maggie’s study.

  Checking under the coffee table, she convinced herself that what she had seen the night before was real. For a minute, she just sat on the floor, staring at them in idle curiosity. But then she was back on her feet Slowly, she looked around the room. She was convinced the explanation was somewhere nearby.

  Settling on the obvious, she went to Maggie’s desk, which was piled high with disks. Only the area before the terminal was clear. Off to one side lay a small data book, similar to the one Carol used in her chemistry class. Except this one had a black cover, with a rich, red binding. In the red square on the cover, her mother had written “A.K.S.,” her grandmother’s initials. Carol opened the book and looked at the first page. It was dated January 10, exactly one month earlier. She started reading, at first not making any sense out of the entries. But on the third page she found the transcription Maggie had made of her composite cure. Carol read on.

  It took Carol twenty minutes to read through Maggie’s copious motes, which ended with Monday’s entry. There was no entry for Tuesday. She sat there silently, trying to digest what she had read. It was all too confusing.

  She looked at the clock on Maggie’s desk. Four already? She went out into the bedroom and checked the alarm clock. Four o’clock. Where had the hour gone? She stood a minute, uncertain as to what to do, then hurried back to the study, sat down, and reread the book.

  It was 4:30 when Carol finally returned to her own room. She lay down on her bed, her breath coming fast, her heart beating as if it wanted to burst, and her mind locked in terror. Her mother was trying to become a witch! She fought to maintain a grip on herself, and tried to analyze the notes. It was clearly two books in one The first reminded her of Ms. Canton, who tried to get them to keep their chemistry notebooks neat, with careful, critical observations of what they saw, complete, concise notes on what they had done. But the other part was just weird. It seemed to be her mom just talking to herself about witch’s brews, incantations and charms, and earning her name—whatever that meant. It was this part that worried and confused Carol. It sounded like one of those dumb horror stories about the witch who had lived in a secret cave for five hundred years before gaining the strength to recapture the souls of her pre-seclusion enemies. She couldn’t remember the name of the book, but she did remember the cover, and that the witch had not looked as scary as she would have expected.

  Her mind jerked back. Who cared about the cover of that book? What had her mother done? If she had found a cure for cancer, why wasn’t she telling anyone? Why is she even hiding it from me, Carol asked herself. And what would she tell Melanie? God, she had really been dumb to tell her that she was going to look around this afternoon. Now she didn’t know how to handle the situation.

  Unexpectedly, a loud, sharp slam resounded through the house and Carol leaped off her bed.

  “Hello! Carol? Are you home?”

  Carol nodded dumbly, and tried to answer. No sound came out.

  “Carol?”

  Fighting for control she walked into the hall, not knowing what to expect. She could hear her mother bustling around in the kitchen, and for an instant she couldn’t picture what she looked like. In terror, she walked toward the kitchen.

  Maggie was puttering aimlessly around the room, trying to calm down. It had been a hard day. It had started badly, with her showing up a half-hour late for her fi
rst appointment then Krueger called her at 10:30, pressing for information on her treatment. She had begged off, saying she was with a patient and would call back, and then didn’t. The pace for her day had been set. She couldn’t take much more.

  “Mom?”

  Maggie jumped. Turning, she saw Carol, standing nervously by the door. The girl’s eyes were red, as if she had just been crying. “Darling, what’s the matter?” She walked over to Carol, to comfort her. But as she reached out for her, Carol pulled back. There was terror in her expression. “Carol! What is it?” She had never seen her look like this before.

  “Mom?” Carol asked again.

  “Carol?” she offered, not moving forward.

  Suddenly, a shiver shook Carol’s body, and crying, she hurried into the protection of her mother’s arms. “I was afraid,” she stuttered. “I—I thought it wasn’t you.”

  Maggie hugged her tight against herself. “Carol, darling, what do you mean?”

  “I snuck into your study. I took the key from your dresser and I read the book that you have in there about Gramma. I thought that you were trying to be a witch, and that you weren’t really my mom, and I got all scared and, and—” She paused to wipe tears from her eyes. “And then I remembered your great, great—whatever—grandmother, Margaret Jones, and how she was a witch—”

  “Carol!”

  “Well, lots of people thought she was, you told me that, and they even tried her as a witch!”

  “But Carol, there’re no such things as witches, you know that. I don’t understand—”

  “Well, neither do I, and I got all confused, and what did you do to Gramma?”

  Guilt overcame Maggie. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I should have told you long ago.” She hugged her gently. “I just didn’t want to talk to you about it until I was sure that it worked.” She held Carol out at arms’ length. “But now you need to know, and I need someone else to tell it to.”

  So Maggie told her story again. Carol listened wide-eyed, fascinated and scared by the story. By the end, she was satisfied. “But Carol,” Maggie cautioned, “you must promise not to tell a word of this to anyone. Not even—no, especially not—to Melanie. When I’m ready, I’ll tell the whole world. But if it gets out before I’m ready, I won’t be allowed to continue, and get the information I need to prove it.”