The Forgotten Spell (Legends of Green Isle Book 1)

by Constance Wallace

  “Hey Matt, do ya think it was them playing in the garden this afternoon?” Toby remarked.

  “Maybe,” Matt answered. “We’ll go find out tomorrow.”

  “Don’t go into that garden,” his mother suddenly remarked loudly. “Remember what your father told you.”

  “Mom, I didn’t say anything about the garden,” Matt replied, taking the last bite of his pie.

  “And if those children were playing in there, you tell them to stay out until we get it cleaned up. God knows we don’t want anybody bitten by a snake or lost in some overgrown hedges. Now both of you go get your baths and get into bed. It’s getting late.” His mother picked up her coffee cup, her hand shaking. She continued gazing at the opposite wall as she took a sip. Matt regarded her from the doorway. He hesitated before speaking, contemplating the words in his mind.

  “Mom, if it makes you feel better, I’ll look after Toby and make sure he’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

  “Thank you Matt. It upsets me to think some poor mother can’t find her children. I would just die if something happened to either of you. I can’t imagine another...especially after James...” His mother couldn’t finish, her eyes filling with tears.

  “It’s okay, I understand.” Matt, embarrassed at seeing his mother's reaction, left the room. Turning to follow Toby up the large staircase, he heard a small sob come from behind him. His heart sank at the sound.

  Matt felt her sorrow. Constant mysteries seemed to continually surface surrounding their new home. Along with a door which opened by itself, and a picture that never quite seemed the same, there was the horrible knowledge that two children suddenly disappeared without a trace. Maybe it was haunted, as Toby said earlier.

  Matt stopped midway up the staircase and leaned over the railing. He contemplated the large painting of Mr. Stewart hanging above the fireplace. Was his ghost hanging around, snatching up little kids? It seemed a little far-fetched. There had to be some other explanation for all that had happened; perhaps the twin girls Wandered off and got lost in the woods.

  “Well, old man, I guess it’s just as easy to blame you since you can’t defend yourself,” he commented softly. As he turned to go to his room, Matt became aware of movement. It was subtle, a slight contrast within the portrait, but it made him examine the scowling face of Mr. Stewart closer. Holding his breath, he watched the eyes in the portrait slide carefully towards him. Stepping back quickly, Matt almost lost his footing on the stairs. He stared in disbelief at the painting as Mr. Stewart’s lips stretched into a tight smile, adding malevolence to the already pronounced evil in his eyes.

  Matt raced up the staircase and down the hall to his room. Frantically twisting the doorknob, he struggled to turn the aging hardware to get inside. Out of desperation, he pounded his body against the thick wood until it gave way. His breath, ragged and short, burned his chest. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it, listening, half-expecting footsteps to follow his retreat. His mind couldn’t comprehend what he witnessed and he thought that he was going crazy. “It didn’t move, it didn’t move, it didn’t move,” he repeated several times.

  “What didn’t move?” Toby's voice came from under the bed.

  Matt wheeled around. “What are you doing in my room?” he demanded, his fear making him angry.

  “I wanna play hide and seek.”

  “Not in my room. Get out!”

  “NO!” Toby screamed at his brother’s harshness.

  Enraged, Matt scowled at his brother. “Didn’t you hear me? Get out. I don’t want you in my room,” he yelled, his voice wavering. Picking up a pillow, he threw it at his brother’s head.

  Ducking, Toby laughed. “Ha, ha, Matt is ta scaredy cat. Matt is ta scaredy cat.”

  “I’m not, either. Take it back, you little monster.” Forgetting the incident with the picture, Matt chased Toby down the hall, intent on thrashing him. As they crossed the threshold into Toby’s room, Matt wrestled him to the floor and held him there until he cried uncle.

  The small fight lasted until they both heard their mother’s light scolding. “You two need to stop this and get your baths,” she reminded them as she peeked into Toby’s room. A smile replaced the frown she wore earlier. Both boys got off the floor and straightened their clothes.

  “Mom, do ya think there’s lots of kids missin’?” Toby blurted out.

  Matt popped his little brother on the head and gave him a ‘how dare you say that’ look. Toby rubbed his head and stuck out his tongue at Matt.

  “What makes you ask that question, dear?”

  “Because of what Mrs. Stacey said. Do you think them ghosts got ‘em?”

  “It’s what your father said, a tall tale. I don’t think there’s a lot to what Mrs. Stacey told us tonight. This is a very small community and people gossip a lot. Everyone wants to live by the plant, where they work. That’s why there aren’t a lot of children in this area.” Matt’s mother undressed Toby and pushed him to the bathroom. “I don’t think the disappearance of the twin girls has anything to do with ghosts, sweetie.”

  Sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, she regarded Matt for a Moment. “Thank you for what you said downstairs. I’m proud that you would stand up like that for Toby.”

  Matt barely heard what she said. His mind was busy. The memory of the movement in the painting came rushing back like a fierce wind.

  His mother sighed heavily when he didn’t answer. “Why don’t you go get your bath?”

  “What...?” he asked.

  “Bath...go get your bath,” she instructed.

  “Okay.”

  Wandering slowly down the hall, Matt’s mind lingered on the portrait of Mr. Stewart. The mystery of the Manor deepened. Mrs. Stacey was right about there being a ghost. It haunted the painting. Sinking into the steaming tub, he paged through the events of the day, trying to come up with a rational explanation for it all, but nothing made sense. Maybe tomorrow he could figure out what was going on.

  Finishing his bath, he toweled off and dressed for bed. Sinking into the down-filled comforter, he slipped into its protective layers, relaxing. His thoughts slowly ebbed and drifted, the hurt and anger he harbored briefly forgotten as well as the strange and eerie portrait. It all seemed to be a bad dream for now.

  When his mother entered the room a half hour later, Matt was already dozing from the warmth of the bath and blankets. He barely heard the squeak of the door.

  “Matt?” she called gently. “Are you still awake?”

  “Yes,” he replied sleepily.

  Sitting beside him on the bed, she didn’t say anything for a minute. Matt could tell she wanted to talk to him, though. “I love you,” she finally whispered. “I’m sorry this move has been so troubling for you.”

  Matt couldn’t answer. His heart was unwilling to let the rage go, and telling her differently would be lying to her.

  “Are you going to say anything?”

  “No.” He turned away from her and stared out the large windows into the night sky. “I said enough already.”

  “Okay.” She rose from the bed and went to the door. “Even though you may be still angry at your father and me, I want you to keep your promise about looking after Toby. I don’t know what I would do if something happened...”

  Wanting her to leave, Matt quickly interrupted. “I will, Mom.”

  Hearing the door click as it closed, Matt shut his eyes in relief. Listening to the sounds of the night, his body tuned itself to the rhythms. Melodies of the frogs soothed his thoughts as the breeze swept through the tops of the trees, the sound of the rustling leaves hypnotic. He drifted towards sleep, lulled by the evening song, his eyes heavy from the emotion of the day.

  As he moved into the place between slumber and dreaming, he faintly heard the sound of laughter mixed with the croaking tune, but weighted from exhaustion, he could not register the sound fully. It was only when the last of his strength ebbed that his eyes caught a glimpse of a small or
b of light outside his window, and he only barely registered its fleeting movement before sleep invaded his waking world.

  Chapter Two

  The sound of creaking floorboards jarred Matt from sleep. He stretched and yawned before pushing the sheets and blankets away and then just stared at the ceiling for a Moment. His mind opened the memories of yesterday and reflected on the laughter he heard from the garden the previous night. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Matt shuffled to the window and opened the sash. He squinted against the morning sun and peered down at the padlocked gate. The lock was still in place.

  “Boys. Come down here,” his mother called.

  Matt didn’t answer, hoping she would think he was still asleep and leave him alone. After last night, he wanted even more to investigate the grounds. Perhaps he could sneak out before breakfast and his babysitting duty with Toby.

  The door squeaked slightly as Toby padded in. “Didja hear them kids last night? Why were they outside so late?”

  Matt spun around. “I thought I was dreaming. You heard the laughter, too?”

  “They woked me up. I heard a girl’s voice and then someone answered her but he sounded like he had a cold. Who was out there? Didja see ‘em?”

  Shaking his head in bewilderment, Matt grew solemn. “No, I didn’t get up to look. After breakfast, we’ll go into town and find those kids Dad mentioned. We can ask them if they were out there last night, okay?”

  “Okay.” Toby nodded in determination.

  “Come on, Squirt, the sooner we eat, the faster we can leave.”

  The two made their way to the kitchen and sat at the small table in the center of Mrs. Stacy’s neatly organized dishes. Digging into the food she prepared, both ate with enthusiasm. When they were finished, Matt’s mother asked how they planned to spend their first day at their new home.

  “I think we’re gonna find those kids in town,” Matt replied.

  “Yup, and ask ‘em...” Toby began.

  “...and ask them what the school is like,” Matt interrupted his little brother quickly. He gave Toby a small kick under the table, making him quiet.

  “Well, that’ll be nice, dear. You need to make some new friends,” their mother responded lightly.

  “I like to have new friends.” Toby licked syrup from his fork.

  “Keep up with your little brother. I don’t want him getting lost. Remember your promise to me.”

  “I will. Stop worrying, Mom. We’re just gonna go down the dirt road outside the gate. Jeepers.”

  “Don’t go too far into town. We don’t know any of the people living there yet,” she added. “I don’t want our family to appear rude.”

  “Okay. Can we be excused now?” he asked, rolling his eyes at her.

  “Yes, dear. Have fun.”

  After changing into Levi’s and cotton shirts, the two boys exited through the monstrous door, leaving the heavy feel of the house behind. Toby wanted to see Chester before heading down the long driveway to the main road. He had taken sugar cubes from the sugar bowl and wanted to give them to his new friend.

  “I love Chester,” he remarked joyfully upon entering the horse’s stall. Petting the horse’s nose, Toby held out his hand, offering the sweet treat. “It tickles,” he laughed as the horse finished nudging the last of the cubes from his outstretched hand. The horse gently pushed at the younger boy with his head, the act catching Matt’s attention.

  Eying the horse with caution, he pulled on Toby’s collar. “Come on, Squirt, that’s enough.” Matt gently urged his brother from Chester’s stall. “Let’s get to town.”

  “Do ya think they’d like us?” Skipping down the driveway a few feet, Toby stopped to peer down at a caterpillar.

  “Who are ya talking about?”

  “The kids from town,” he exclaimed with exasperation. Shoving his hands into his back pockets, he looked up at Matt.

  “Why wouldn’t they? We’re pretty swell guys.”

  “I dunno know.” Toby kicked a rock out of his way. “Maybe cuz they don’t like new kids?”

  Passing through the Gothic iron entryway, they stepped onto the gravel road they had traveled the day before in their mother’s car. Now warmed by the sun, the landscape glowed with color. Large oak trees and flowering bushes lined the border of the road, barely noticeable in the gray rain. As they reached the intersection of their street and the beginning of the town’s paved thoroughfare, they stopped, unsure of their destination.

  “They all look alike,” Toby surmised, as he gazed at the pastel frame houses with white picket fences and neatly trimmed lawns. “Wonder where ‘em kids live?”

  “Don’t ya want to go further into town to look for them?” Matt asked, hoping Toby would say no. Suddenly he felt nervous at the thought of meeting new faces.

  “Why in the heck do ya wanna go into town? There ain’t much to do there,” a disembodied voice drawled.

  The boys jumped at the sound of the raspy tone. “Who’s that talking?” Toby shouted, scanning the bushes.

  “Up here, knuckle head,” the voice demanded.

  Raising their eyes skyward, the two brothers saw five teenagers hidden within the limbs of the trees. The boy who spoke hung upside down from a large branch. He peered at them from within a flurry of freckles and bright red hair. Next to him perched a girl, sporting the same colored hair and an array of freckles. Two more boys and another girl dangled in between the leaves of another tree.

  Climbing down from the branch she hovered in, the redheaded girl soon swung to the ground. Within Moments, she stood beside Matt and Toby, grinning boldly. “Howdy. My name is Caitlin Carothers. I’m thirteen.” She smiled as she shook Matt and Toby’s hands vigorously, pumping each up and down with exaggeration. “We’ve been hopin’ you’d come down this way. My Dad and grandpa work at the same plant with your Dad. It’s nice to have you here and all. We get tired of playing the same ole games because we don’t have enough people. Now we’ll be almost a baseball team.”

  Caitlin stopped for a Moment to take a breath and giggled as she continued. “This here’s my brother George. And he’s fourteen.” She pointed to the boy with the red hair. “That tall boy over there is Thomas Neely.” She pointed to one of the boys across the street with blond hair. “He’s sixteen and the oldest, and that there is his brother Ned.” She then pointed to the skinny brown-headed boy next to Thomas. “Ned’s fifteen and so is Miranda Gay.” Caitlin motioned to the slender girl halfway down the trunk of the tree.

  “We’re all related, ya know: me, Thomas, Ned, Miranda and George. We’re all cousins, by one fashion or another. We’ve been here in town all our lives. Would you like to come on down to our house for a spell? I have five dogs, four cats and a fish. My fish’s name is Henry. I called him that because he reminds me of my Uncle Henry. Do ya’ll have any pets?” Caitlin finished breathlessly, her excitement apparent.

  Matt viewed Caitlin with amazement. He had never heard anyone talk as fast as she did. He laughed briefly at the girl. “No, we don’t. Our parents don’t like animals. We have horses in the barn, though. Maybe you guys could come up and ride sometime.”

  Miranda was the last to join them. Matt noticed her looking at him. She was pretty and slim with blonde hair, her blue eyes twinkling with joy. Something about her made him want to know her more.

  “So ya’ll like living up there in that ole house?” George queried slowly.

  “It’s okay, I guess,” Matt replied, not really wanting to talk about it.

  “Gee whiz, I heard that ol’ man Stewart haunted the place,” Thomas injected.

  “Ya’ll don’t know nothing. Momma says that house’s been cursed for centuries. Somethin’ about stealing somethin’ from his people back in Scotland.” Miranda smiled briefly at Matt.

  “Have ya seen any ghosts?” Caitlin asked.

  “Why don’t ya come up and see it yourself?” Toby finally remarked.

  Caitlin shook her head and drew back with wide eyes. “W
e can’t. That house is bad. Momma said the last family who lived there lost their two twin girls and all. She told me and George that the ghost of Mr. Stewart came and kidnapped them. She won’t let us within a stone’s throw of that place.”

  “That’s just pretty much nonsense,” Matt countered. “My parents said those stories are tall tales and rumors. Quit scaring my little brother like that, okay?”

  “I’m only telling ya’ll what my Momma said,” Caitlin remarked. “Just be careful,” she added softly.

  “My Dad said the same thing. Everyone in town believes that place is haunted,” Thomas asserted.

  “It’s haunted,” Miranda agreed. “It’s a wonder people haven't burned it down by now, with all the hoopla about monsters and ghosts and kidnapped kids. There’s always somethin’ strange happening up there and all.”

  Matt stared at Miranda. He liked her voice. It was musical and sweet. When the others caught him watching her, he quickly looked away. “Mrs. Stacey, our housekeeper, seems to believe that’s how the twin girls disappeared. Mr. Stewart’s ghost took them. I can’t say that I have seen anything like a ghost, you know, but there’ve been some strange things I have noticed.”

  “Really? Goes to show that there may be somethin’ to those ole stories. Momma’s pa used to tell us the whole town was scared about that old Scotsman’s ghost, ever since he just up and disappeared. Just like that,” Miranda exclaimed, snapping her fingers to make the point. “Some think he was murdered and all, and now he’s back to take his revenge, or some other crazy notion. There’s just too much wild stuff up around there.”

  “Like what?” Toby demanded.

  “Well, people say they hear some voices in that closed off garden,” George exclaimed quickly. “And I’ve heard ‘em too.”

  “How could ya?” Caitlin asked her brother. “Momma told us both not to go past these trees. I’m gonna tell on ya, George Carothers, ifn ya been up there.” She pouted, stamping her foot on the dusty road.

  “Shut up, Caitlin, or I’m gonna tell Momma about her sewing scissors and what happened to those,” George retorted, bending his face to hers.