Stealing Magic

by Marianne Malone

  “Got it.” Ruthie stepped into the framework and into a side room. From there she could see the entire space: a late eighteenth-century room with walls painted the color of a robin’s egg and a crystal chandelier that captured and refracted the light coming from the windows. She saw a portrait of a woman in an oval frame, dressed like Betsy Ross or Abigail Adams, she thought. Maybe this was the woman’s room. Ruthie liked her face and wished she had more time to look at all the other objects.

  Ruthie pulled back as two people walked into view. She waited until their voices subsided, then stepped in. She placed the goblet where it belonged and listened as the sparkling sound of the magic resonated around her for just a few seconds. She looked out the window at the view of a beautiful formal garden in summer. There were no people in the garden, but she saw two squirrels chasing each other, their fluffy tails bobbing about as they jumped from branch to branch in the gently swaying trees.

  She left the room and returned to Jack and Dora in the corridor. “Okay—last stop, A30, the Georgia room.”

  “But I thought we’d get to look in the rooms,” Dora complained again.

  “Don’t worry; we will. It’s just that the really great stuff is on the European side,” Jack answered. The look of frustration on her face did not subside.

  At this point, Ruthie needed to be on the other side of the corridor, so Jack lifted her off the ledge and carried her over. She sat cross-legged in the deep creases of his giant palm and rather enjoyed the ride.

  He set her down, now with only the stereopticon to return. She remembered that it belonged on the table toward the back of the room—no need to ask Dora. She made her way to the entrance. A30 was a double parlor, meaning it was really two rooms, one in front of the other. She found herself in the rear of the two, which were decorated in the same style, with the same lush red velvets and opulent gold satins. Ruthie had looked at this room many times in the catalogue, but it seemed far more elaborate when she was actually inside of it. How many servants—slaves—were needed to support this lifestyle? she wondered.

  Ruthie looked through the front room toward the viewing window as she crept farther in. All clear. Interestingly, the room felt alive already, and she listened carefully for more telltale sounds. Yes, she heard life beyond the heavily curtained bay windows, muffled and distant but nevertheless real. She placed the stereopticon on the table where it belonged, next to a small stack of books. As she predicted, the wind-chime-like sound did not start up. Clearly, this stereopticon, though old, was not the animating object of room A30. Ruthie took one more long look around the grand space, speculating about what the magic item might be.

  “Okay, we’ve got all the American stuff put back,” Ruthie said as she reappeared, already having decided that she was going one room back, to A29, Phoebe’s room. She started in that direction.

  “Where are you going?” Dora asked impatiently.

  “I have to check something in the next room. Jack, do you have the you-know-what?”

  He patted a pocket that held the square.

  “Is it doing anything?” Ruthie asked.

  Jack opened his pocket just enough to get a glimpse. “Yep, glowing. But just a little.”

  “What? What are you two talking about?” This was all more than Dora could tolerate. “You said you’d teach me all about the magic.”

  “When we get to the European corridor we’ll explain,” Jack replied.

  As Jack spoke, Ruthie slipped into the framework of A29. The museum was still empty enough for her to walk right into the room through the door she had left ajar last time. The tall cabinet stood near the front; Ruthie went straight over to it, as though an invisible magnet pulled her. Standing directly in front of it, she saw the curtains hanging behind glass panels but realized she couldn’t easily open the doors; there were no knobs to pull, only two keyholes. But there was a drawer below with two knobs. She pulled the knobs, and the drawer slid open, revealing a single key on a gold cord. Ruthie slid it into the keyhole; it fit. She gave it a half turn and heard the sound of the latch moving.

  The hinges creaked and resisted when she pulled the door, but it opened. Inside, she spied a single object: a leather-bound book, held closed not by a locking clasp but by two leather ties. It had no gold decorations, no markings of any kind; it was well used and obviously very old. She picked it up, closed the cabinet and walked through the French doors to the covered porch. Here, she would be invisible to anyone from the nineteenth century who might happen by, and out of sight to museum visitors as well. Birds flew about in the nearby oaks, and the scent of garden flowers was sweet and strong. She sat down on the painted white floorboards, warm from the sun. How lovely it would be to sit and enjoy the moment and have all the time she wanted to explore this book, this world. But Jack couldn’t hold off Dora indefinitely.

  She opened the book to somewhere in the middle. At first she couldn’t read it—it was all handwritten, and some things seemed misspelled. Ink smudges dappled the margins. It appeared to be a ledger of some kind. Ruthie thumbed through a few pages. She saw lists in columns with quantities, sometimes broken up with short paragraphs. Once she became accustomed to the writing she could read most of it and realized that these were recipes of a sort, or formulas.

  Ruthie went back to the first page to see if there was a title. In larger and careful handwriting, she read:

  Secret and complete record of elixirs, balms, extracts, curatives, and potions, penned to perfection by Phoebe Monroe, of the Gillis family, of Charleston, commenced

  Phoebe!

  She gently turned to the back to see if all the pages were filled in. The book was complete, but—to Ruthie’s amazement—tucked in after the last page was the spiral notebook she had given Phoebe! There, on the cover, was what Ruthie had written: A gift to Phoebe, from Ruthie Stewart. She opened it. The handwriting was in pencil, less skillful yet carefully lettered along the blue lines of the paper. She could barely take her eyes off the paper, yellowed and brittle with age. It was tangible evidence that she and Jack had actually gone back in time and that this notebook had been written in more than a hundred and fifty years ago!

  She wanted to run out to show Jack, but she didn’t want to let Dora see it or even know of its existence. No, it would be wiser to put it safely back in the cabinet. She would come back to it another time.

  WHILE RUTHIE WAS IN ROOM A29, Jack “explained” things to Dora. By the time Ruthie returned to the ledge, he had embellished the powers of the magic so much that the magic as it existed seemed dull in comparison. He described how some European rooms enabled them to speak in a foreign language, and that in one room he had actually levitated!

  “So the curse says that if anyone uses the magic for personal gain or that if the objects are separated from the rooms for too long, something horrible will happen to that person,” he finished.

  “Where does it say that?” she demanded.

  “In E1,” he said. “We’ll go there and show you—once we get everything put back. Let’s go.” Getting Dora to leave the American corridor and enter the European side was like tempting a sugar addict with cookies.

  “Hey,” Ruthie said from the ledge, “I could ride in your pocket to the other corridor!”

  Jack agreed and gently scooped her up and placed her in one of his roomy pockets at thigh level. Ruthie felt big fuzzy globs of lint beneath her feet and had to pull down on the top edge of the pocket to peer out.

  Dora used her Art Institute key without hesitation. Jack had already stepped into Gallery 11 when Ruthie had the terrifying thought that the guard would notice that three people had gone in and only two were coming out! She ducked deeper in Jack’s pocket.

  “Where’s Louis?” Ruthie heard Dora ask.

  “Half-hour break, Ms. Pommeroy,” a different voice answered. Dora let this guard know that they were doing research and swiftly opened the door to the European side. Ruthie told herself not to be so careless next time.

  Onc
e the corridor door had closed behind them, Ruthie called to Jack from his pocket, “I’d better get big again so we can shrink together.” Otherwise—since having Dora become small was part of the plan—Dora would have to control the shrinking with Jack, and Ruthie didn’t want to give her that opportunity. Jack lifted her from his pocket and set her on the ground. He bent down to the tiny Ruthie and she dropped the key into his open hand. The key returned to full size right in his palm, and Ruthie grew to her full size at the same time.

  “Now, what’s left?” Ruthie asked.

  Dora took out a jade vase and a silver teapot from her leather bag.

  “That’s it?” The globe was not among the items. “Nothing left in the shopping bag?”

  “That’s all,” Dora answered rather defensively. Ruthie guessed it must still be in the apartment Dora was decorating; they would have to figure out how to get it back.

  “What rooms are these things from?” Ruthie asked.

  “The teapot belongs in the English drawing room, E7, and the jade vase is from the Japanese room. Now can we please explore?” Dora was losing patience.

  “How are you at climbing?” Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out the toothpick ladder.

  Dora looked skeptical. “Climbing?”

  “You said you wanted to explore. How else do you think we get to the ledge when we’re small?” He attached the ladder.

  “Couldn’t we just use the stepladder?” she asked.

  “We have to shrink together, and there’s not enough room for three of us on it,” Jack explained, giving the ladder a little tug to make sure it was secured. “I’m ready when you guys are.”

  They directed Dora to put everything back in her bag so the objects would shrink with her. Then Jack took the key from his pocket. Dora’s eyes flickered with envy, as though she wished to grab the twinkling treasure for herself.

  Ruthie reached out her right hand for Dora to hold while Jack put the key in her left palm, clasping his hand to hers. They had never tried having three people shrink at once and weren’t really sure what would happen. Ruthie felt the breeze start up right away but it seemed to take a few seconds longer for everything to grow around them, as though the strength of the magic was diluted. When the shrinking was over, Dora looked around and gasped, cowering as she responded to the scale.

  Standing on the floor in the corridor was very different from being up in the rooms or even on the ledge. First of all, it was much darker away from the glow of the rooms and the space loomed menacingly; a feeling of vulnerability was hard to fight off. Ruthie and Jack were used to it, Dora wasn’t.

  Jack took the leather bag from her. “Here, I’ll carry this if you’re not used to climbing.” She smiled weakly at him.

  Ruthie put Christina’s key in her pocket and they began the five-story ascent. Secretly Ruthie felt a pang of sympathy for Dora, remembering the first time she had made this climb. After all, it felt like climbing up the side of the Grand Canyon, something Ruthie doubted she would have been brave enough to do before this magic adventure. She had conquered her fear and was now able to look down without queasiness. But Dora was frozen where she stood. Jack was in the lead, and he and Ruthie were more than halfway up by the time Dora finally took her first tentative steps toward the ladder. Then they heard her scream.

  Out of the shadows appeared a mouse! Imagine coming into contact with a whiskered creature the size of a Volkswagen! Its nose twitched violently, and the little pink paws didn’t look so cute at this size; the sharp claws were longer than the tines on a fork. Baring its jagged teeth, it made an ear-piercing squeak, probably in fear itself. Dora and the mouse were inches apart, and it was hard to say who was more frightened. She screamed again and turned.

  “It’s the curse!” she shrieked. “Help!”

  Jack said in a low voice so only Ruthie could hear, “Mice are nonaggressive herbivores.” But aloud he called to Dora, “Run!”

  The panicked woman zigged and zagged down the corridor, not looking behind her, and therefore not realizing the rodent had headed off in the opposite direction.

  “No, run this way, to the ladder,” Ruthie instructed. Dora finally changed tack and jumped onto the bottom rung. She clung to the ladder for dear life.

  “That was horrible,” she said through heaving breaths. “Did you see its teeth? It could have killed me!”

  “You’re safe now,” Ruthie reassured her. But then to Jack she said, “Jack, do you think it really was the curse?”

  “Might be,” he said, continuing the climb. Ruthie followed.

  “Hey, wait for me!” Dora yelled.

  “We have to keep going. The sooner we get these things put back, the better,” Jack called down. “Who knows what else might happen!”

  Ruthie and Jack climbed onto the ledge while Dora was still near the bottom, trying to get the hang of climbing. They were near E7, where the teapot belonged, so they started toward the entrance of that room.

  “Where are you? Don’t leave me!” Dora yelled at them from the ladder.

  “Don’t worry. Keep climbing,” Ruthie called out without stopping.

  Together, they found the side room that led them to the open door of E7. “What do you remember about this room?” Jack asked.

  “It’s English, I think from the 1730s,” Ruthie answered, gazing into the wood-paneled room. This was definitely one of Ruthie’s favorite rooms; it looked both fancy and cozy at the same time. Near the elaborately carved mantel—over which hung a very large portrait of a woman and her dog—sat a big wingback chair covered in red and white fabric. She thought that would be the perfect place to curl up with a book. A tea set, missing its pot, sat on a small table between the chair and the fireplace.

  “Do you think the room is alive?” Jack asked.

  “I can’t really tell. I don’t hear anything.” She glimpsed the stony white facade of another building out the window, but from where they stood it looked painted, not real.

  “We’d better hurry,” Ruthie said. “Dora’s going to be up here any second.”

  Jack pulled the teapot from the bag.

  “You can do it,” Ruthie offered.

  She watched Jack walk into the room—after he made sure no one was coming—and place the silver object next to the others in the set. Sure enough, the faraway bells chimed delicately, lasting only a few moments. Even standing off to the side in the doorway, Ruthie could sense the change in the room. It was as though a gentle breath sighed through it. She looked again at the view out the window, which had subtly changed; the building no longer looked painted, and shadows cast by clouds danced across it. A window next to the mantel was open a crack. They both heard the sounds from the street blow in on a breeze.

  At that point, Jack should have turned and gone back to her, but he didn’t. She watched him walk over to take a look at a chess set. The red and white ivory pieces, although perfect for the shrunk Jack, were incredibly tiny. He lifted up the king for Ruthie to see and called across the room to her, “This is awesome!”

  “Watch out, Jack,” she called to him from the doorway; she spied someone coming into view. There was a tall folding screen right next to him and he ducked behind it.

  While Jack waited for his chance to exit, they both heard Dora, who was now near the top of the ladder and none too happy. Ruthie looked from the screen to the viewing window, not wanting to be left alone with Dora. She saw Jack peek out from behind the screen.

  Dora’s voice grew in volume as she made her way through the framework and into the side room where Ruthie stood.

  “You promised me that I would get to learn all about the rooms and explore the past, not some horrible curse!” As she shouted at Ruthie in the little room, she stepped closer and closer to the entrance of the main room.

  “Dora—” Ruthie began.

  “No excuses! I know you’re holding out on me—both of you.” She turned toward the room. “Where is he?” She stormed into the room without checking the win
dow.

  “Dora, look out!” Ruthie called to her. But it was too late. She was standing in the middle of the room—face to face with a large head of a ten-year-old boy looking in at the room.

  Through the glass, they heard him call to his friends, “Hey, look! This one has a hologram or something!” Dora stood stunned for a moment, then regained her senses and ran back to Ruthie just before two more boys joined the first. “It went off into the side room. It looked like a Barbie doll.”

  “Yeah, right, dude!” one said.

  They heard the boys arguing as they moved away from the window.

  Dora glared at Ruthie. “Why did you let me do that?”

  “Dora, you have to be more careful,” Ruthie said as evenly as she could.

  “Yeah,” Jack said as he ambled back into the side room. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

  Dora took a deep breath. “All right—fine. I’ll follow your lead.”

  “Good.”

  The jade vase was the last object left in Dora’s bag. Soon, if everything went according to plan, Dora’s thieving would be stopped and Ruthie would no longer have to bear the guilt of having confided in a thief.

  JACK, STILL CARRYING DORA’S LEATHER bag, reached in and retrieved the vase. The three of them stood in the little side room adjacent to E3, the Japanese Room. Everything was just as it had been when Ruthie had removed the bento box and when Jack had replaced it; the room was too still, too quiet.

  “Go ahead, Jack. It belongs on the low table right in front of the scroll painting,” Ruthie said.

  Jack stepped across the tatami mats and set the beautiful green vase in place. No sooner had he done so than the chiming of the magic wafted through the room on a breeze that came from the garden. Dora took a step back when she heard the sound.

  “We were right,” Jack said to Ruthie. “It was alive the first time.”

  “What are you talking about? What was that noise?” Dora asked.