The Trail of the Green Doll

by Margaret Sutton

  CHAPTER XVIII Sita Speaks

  “Bad luck?” Judy asked, turning from the corner cupboard where she hadjust placed a stack of five plates, the last of the breakfast dishes. Orwere they lunch dishes? Their pancake feast had waited so long that itwas nearly lunchtime before they had finished.

  “You don’t believe in it, do you?” Mrs. Riker questioned anxiously. “Iguess you think we make our own luck, good or bad, and maybe you’reright.”

  “But if that’s true,” Judy said, “we can change it. You’ve made a goodstart, telling me all about it.”

  “I didn’t tell you quite all,” Helen admitted. “I didn’t tell you how weused to act out the story of Rama and Sita. Do you know it, Judy?”

  “Only a little of it,” Judy answered. “I know they are the ideal man andwoman, but was Sita a princess? Penny said the green doll was aprincess, but I guess she got the story mixed up with the Oz books. Didyou read them to her?”

  “I read her the Oz books, not the ‘Ramayana.’ There isn’t a translationof it that a child Penny’s age could understand. We heard the story toldand made up our own play. I would call, ‘Rama! Rama! Rama! I seek theewithin me and my senses are sealed.’”

  “Did Rama answer?”

  “No, it was always the demon Ravana. He was the many-headed monster whostole Sita and kept her a prisoner for seven years. The boys would taketurns being Ravana. The other one was always Rama.”

  “And you were Sita? Did you take the statues to act out the play?”

  “At first,” she said. “Then Uncle Paul discovered us and forbade us totouch them. After that we thought of him as the many-headed demon. Whenhe roared at us we’d exchange glances and know each other’s thoughts.I’ve seen you and Peter do it. I think two people can when they loveeach other very much, but it didn’t last with us. When Sita was stoleneverything changed. Paul didn’t want to play any more.”

  “How do you mean?” asked Judy. “Was it Philip who took the statue?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He gave it to me and told me to keep it for sevenyears and then he would bring me its mate. He did find me just sevenyears later, but neither of us ever mentioned Rama and Sita. We weremarried, I often told myself, without their blessing. Paul didn’t cometo the wedding. None of his family did. My mother and some of my friendsfrom New York were there. But I never saw Paul again.”

  “If you did see him—” Judy began.

  But Helen Riker was crying now.

  “I’d still love him, I guess. Little Paul is really named for him, notfor Mr. Riker. I was always a little afraid of old Uncle Paul. And nowI’m afraid of meeting either of them. Can you guess why?”

  “Because you kept the green goddess?”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that. I’m afraid of what may have happenedduring the years I didn’t know him. If he’s grown up to be bitter andcruel like his uncle, with no understanding of children— And if hehasn’t—why, then he’s probably married to someone else. I’d pretend Ididn’t care any more if I found out Paul was happily married.”

  “I see,” Judy said, and there were tears in her eyes.

  “You really do, don’t you?” Mrs. Riker spoke as if she wasn’t used tohaving people understand her feelings. But now that someone did, she wasready to pour out her heart.

  “That was what made it so hard,” she went on with her story. “I lovedthe green doll, as I called her, and didn’t want to part with her,because Philip had given her to me. After he was killed in the accidenttwo years ago, it seemed even harder to part with her, and I didn’t,even though we needed money desperately. She reminded me of those happydays when the three of us played together and took turns and I didn’thave to choose between them. They were twins—”

  “Wait a minute!” Judy stopped her. “Did I hear you correctly? Did yousay they were twins?”

  “Identical twins,” she replied. “Some people couldn’t tell one from theother, but I could. Philip laughed more than Paul did. He was morereckless, too. When we played follow-the-leader, he would lead us placesthat Paul and I were afraid to go.”

  “What sort of places?” asked Judy.

  “Well, there was a cave in the side of the mountain. I don’t rememberexactly where it was. It was a natural cave,” she remembered. “I don’timagine it’s there any more. It seems to me it was about where thatmonument stood.”

  “Could the monument have been built over it? That might explain thevoice that told the children to go away. It would explain the footstep,too!”

  “Then he was there!” Helen Riker exclaimed.

  “Who?” asked Judy.

  “Old Uncle Paul,” she replied with a shiver. “He knew about the cave. Hechased us out and took possession of it for himself just as he tookpossession of everything he wanted. I hated him for his selfishness. Iwanted to hurt him. I knew it was wrong to keep the statue, but it wasmy way of paying him back. He must have turned queer to build a tomb andhide in a cave underneath it to scare people. I wonder if he knew who wewere.”

  “How could he know? Do you think he was peeking out from somewhere? Buthow could he know you even if he was? You were a little girl then—”

  “I know,” she interrupted, “but I’m like my mother. I thought perhaps Icould keep house for him like my mother did. Our one hope was that hewould welcome us and forgive me when I gave him back the little jadestatue of Sita. But now it’s stolen and he didn’t want to see us.Philip’s insurance money is all gone. We used the last of it cominghere. I’ll have to go to work, I guess, and put the children in a fosterhome. I don’t suppose you’d consider letting them stay on here with you?I’d pay you out of my wages. Maybe I could wait on tables or find workin a store. Do you mind looking after the children if I begin huntingfor something tomorrow?”

  “Not at all,” Judy replied.

  “Judy, you’re kind and thoughtful and understanding—”

  “Please,” Judy stopped her. “Peter calls me Angel, and the next thing,you’ll be doing it. I have a lot of faults. I lose my temper and expecttoo much of people and make hasty judgments, and sometimes I’m rude. Iwas annoyed with you for not telling the truth—”

  “And well you should have been,” Helen Riker said. “For a girl who wasonce called Sita, I have fallen far short of the Hindu ideal of perfectwomanhood. Perhaps I was fooled by Ravana, the evil one. I should havecalled, ‘Rama! Rama! Rama!’ more often.”

  “Do you think he would have answered you?” asked Judy, still a littlebaffled by the mystic tale.

  “Perhaps,” Helen replied, “but I waited too long. Life does not wait forindecision, Judy. As the demon said in the story, ‘It is too late!’ Eachof his many heads, pierced by Rama’s arrows, cried it to heaven untilthere was only one left to speak and it spoke wisely, ‘Learn by myexample. Do selfless deeds at once. Those that are selfish put them offtill they cease to trouble thy mind.’ But, you see, I put off the deedsI should have done. I intended to visit Uncle Paul and give him back hisprecious Sita and tell him how Philip took it for me when we were bothchildren and didn’t know its value. I dreaded going there and it waseven worse than I imagined. I don’t ever want to go again.”

  “Well, I do,” declared Judy, “more than ever now that you’ve told me.Peter!” she called. “Where was it you said we were going?”