Black Cat

  I smiled to myself. 'Wouldn't it be wonderful to show her up someday? How quickly that smug arrogance would pour off her face. She would go and crawl up into a ball in some corner and she would deserve it. How many people had she hurt, driven to tears? Wasn't she trying to do it to me?

  The definite sound of footsteps below sent me into a panic. I undressed as fast as I could, and as quietly as possible. I put on my own things again. Then I waited and listened. Hearing nothing. I went to the top of the small stairway. Sounds were coming from below. Mama was downstairs. I took advantage of the opportunity and quickly descended. I went to my own room and I shoved Betsy's things under an old suitcase on the floor of my closet. Then I undressed again and got into bed. And not a moment too soon. either.

  Mama was at my door, white candle lit and in a holder in her hand.

  "Are you asleep?"

  I pretended I was, but it was always hard to pretend around Mama. "You're not asleep. Noble, so stop acting like you art."

  I turned and sat up. "What is it?"

  "Something woke me. Something isn't right," She walked farther into my room. She lifted the candle so that the light from it would wash over the walls, into every corner and finally over me. "Do you feel it?"

  My heart began to pound again. What should I say? Did some spirit tell her what I had done?

  "No," I said. ``I was falling asleep."

  "But you weren't asleep. Something kept you awake. Well?" she demanded. "I was just..."

  "Just what?"

  "Worrying."

  "About what?"

  "Betsy makes me nervous." That softened her shoulders. She lowered the candle and the shadow hooded my face.

  "Oh. Yes, She could make anyone into a nervous wreck. She's done quite a job on her father. But I told you. She won't be a problem."

  "She thinks you put a spell on her father." I thought that if Mama heard that, perhaps she would not be so eager to go through with the marriage. It would at least take her attention off me.

  It only made her laugh.

  "Of course she does. Three-quarters of the community believes that. I bet. Let them, let her think that. She'll be more afraid of me, and that's what a spawn like her needs to be, afraid.

  "Poor Noble." Mama surprised me by sitting on my bed. She hadn't done that since I was very little. She brought the candle around to light up my face, then she reached out and stroked my cheek gently, running her fingers over my lips and under my chin.

  "Would I ever let anyone, especially someone like that, harm you? Would our precious loving family stop protecting you? As long as you believe and hold on to your faith, you will be unassailable. She will see all this quickly and she will change or..."

  "Or what. Mama?"

  "Or be gone." She stood. She stared down at me, then she looked around again, slowly moving the candlelight about the room. "But there was

  something," she said in a whisper. "Something was in this house tonight."

  She took a few steps toward my closet and for a long moment stood there staring at it. I held my breath. If she found Betsy's clothes, the panties...

  When she turned away from the closet, I breathed easier. She looked down at me again.

  "We've got to be vigilant. Noble, always vigilant. Remember, we have a precious person to protect. If ever you do anything or think anything that might endanger Baby Celeste, you hesitate.

  Understand?"

  "Yes. Mama."

  "Good. Good. Okay, try to sleep," she finally concluded.

  She walked slowly to the doorway, turned, and lifted the candle one final time. Then she left, the light dragging behind her like a faded gold shroud being pulled into the darkness.

  I lay back and stared into that darkness. I thought I heard whispering, but when I turned toward the wall, it stopped.

  I've got to be good. I thought. There is nothing they cannot see. I went to sleep promising I would.

  The next day Betsy appeared with the remainder of her things. I helped her and Mr. Fletcher carry it all to her room, and then, without saving thanks or anything, she just closed the door in my face.

  "Shell calm down," Mr. Fletcher assured me. "She would always pout and sulk when she didn't get her way. My wife used to give in to it. I did, too, but those days are over now," he vowed, and smiled at me. "But let's not think of anything unpleasant, not at the start of a whole new wonderful life."

  He put his arm around my shoulders. I didn't want to pull away, but it made me. nervous.

  "Maybe soon you and I will go up to the lake, huh? Well take out a boat and have a real day together. What do you think?"

  "Maybe." I knew I should have sounded more grateful and eager, but I couldn't.

  "It's all right. We'll take it a day at a time. This is a big change for everyone. I appreciate that."

  I helped him bring in his things next. Mama had just recently cleaned out her closets. For years and years, Daddy's clothing had hung there and had still been in the dresser drawers. As if it were part of some spiritual ritual, she decided to pack all that herself at night and bring it up to the turret room. I had offered to help her, but she said it was something a wife had to do alone.

  Through the closed turret-room door, I heard her talking, and from what I heard, she was talking to Daddy's spirit. I wondered if she was apologizing, if it was a sad conversation, but I soon heard her laugh. "How wonderful!" she declared, then she became very quiet. I moved away quickly. I knew that if she ever caught me eavesdropping, she would be angry.

  Helping Mr. Fletcher put his clothing away, however, was an entirely different thing. This I could do. He remarked about how much space was available to him.

  "The closets in this house are much bigger than they were in mine," he told me.

  Afterward, the four of us. Mama. Mr. Fletcher, Baby Celeste, and me, went out to plan where we would put the tables for the wedding feast and how we would arrange it all.

  Betsy was still up in her room sulking. Mama and I had created an arch for the wedding ceremony. I built it and she decorated it with vines and flowers. She and Mr. Fletcher then pretended to have a wedding rehearsal.

  "This looks more like a stupid picnic." we heard, and turned to see Betsy watching from the porch. "What if it rains?"

  "It's not going to rain," Mama told her.

  "Right. You control the weather. too," Betsy chimed. "I'm going to town to see Dirk," she called to her father. "By the way," she added as she walked to Mr. Fletcher's car. "he's my guest for the picnic."

  She laughed and got in. She drove off too quickly, spitting up gravel.

  "I warned her that I wouldn't let her use my car if she drove like that," Mr. Fletcher said furiously. "That girl has gotten more traffic tickets. Its a wonder she hasn't been in a serious accident. I oughta cut off every gray hair in my head, put it in an envelope, and hand it to her with a thank-you card,"

  Mama laughed.

  He looked at her and smiled. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I shouldn't add a single note of unpleasantness, especially right now, but that girl..." He looked after her.

  Mama stepped up beside him and threaded her arm through his.

  "She will change," she declared with such certainty, he had to look at her and smile. She nodded. "She will change," she promised.

  The wind through the trees seemed to make the branches tinkle as if they were laden with tiny bells.

  Baby Celeste heard it and looked that way. Her laugh turned Mama to us and the forest.

  But Baby Celeste had turned completely around and was staring at the arch now. When Mama turned to look that way, her smile wilted.

  Did she see him?

  I saw him.

  Like someone waiting. like a spider who had spun his web. Elliot was standing in the middle. smiling gleefully at all of us.

  11

  A Down-to-Earth Wedding

  .

  The following day. the Reverend Mr. Austin,

  Mr. Bogart's friend, came to our house to revie
w the wedding ceremony with Mama and Mr. Fletcher, His wife. Tani, accompanied him. She was a pleasant, amiable, and talkative little woman, and I learned she was a close friend of Mrs. Bogart's wife's and knew quite a bit about us and our family history.

  The reverend was a handsome man of about fifty with light brown hair and aqua eyes. He had a soft, gentle manner and touched your hand or your arm to reassure you whenever he said anything that might in the least way cause concern. He immediately made Mr. Fletcher feel at ease.

  "When you had one marriage that failed, you naturally think its your fault and you're naturally afraid of making another commitment," the reverend told him. They had taken a walk together and I overheard it all while I was working in the shed, sharpening my chain saw with a chain-saw file.

  Later, when we were all in the house, the reverend said he had a philosophy about marriage, a belief in the joining of kindred spirits.

  "It's the fortunate man or woman who finds a soul mate," he said. "Too many of us are blind to the wondrous workings of the human heart. but I believe it is true that for everyone out there, there is someone."

  "It was true for us," Tani said. She smiled at me. "And to inherit a fine young and responsible boy like Noble and a child such as Celeste to boot. You are truly a blessed man.-

  "I think so," Dave said. The references to me made me blush,

  Mama prepared a nice lunch for everyone, then afterward, we all went through the steps of the wedding ceremony. Mr. Fletcher had somehow forced Betsy to attend, even though she would play no role in the formal activities. I thought she. was there simply because she couldn't get her boyfriend to pick her up and take her away.

  It took only two rehearsals for Baby Celeste to learn how to walk to the arch and hand Mama the wedding ring for Mr. Fletcher. She had such a serious expression on her face the whole time, too. It brought laughter to everyone's lips but Betsy's.

  "What a beautiful and wonderful little girl!" Tani Austin cried.

  Anyone could see how proud of herself Baby Celeste was, especially in the way she stepped back beside me, took my hand. and waited patiently for the rest of the wedding ceremony to continue. Betsy, on the other hand, let us know how bored she was by wearing earphones and listening to her music the whole time. I thought it wouldn't surprise me to see her do the same thing during the actual ceremony.

  Mr. Fletcher ignored her and concentrated on Baby Celeste.

  "She'll steal the show," he said. "But I'd enjoy being robbed by that sweet face any day."

  Somehow. Betsy heard that over her music and paused to grimace smugly at him. She pretends not to care about her father's affections. I thought, but she doesn't hide her envy and jealousy when he shows how much he loves Baby Celeste, What good can come of all this? I continued to wonder. Why wasn't Mama afraid of it all? It wasn't beginning with any promise of hope and goodness.

  In fact the first night Betsy slept in our home was a disturbing disappointment for Mr. Fletcher because she stayed away with her new boyfriend. Dirk, all day and called to say she wouldn't be at dinner that night. She was going with friends to New York City and would be home late. Before Mr. Fletcher could oppose her, she hung up. He came into the living room, shaking his head, and described the short conversation to Mama and me. I had the sense this was the first of many sessions like this to come.

  She speaks so quickly, I can barely manage to get a word in," he groaned. And if I start to complain or ask a question, she speaks over me. Her mother used to do that. I'm Sorry, Sarah."

  I wondered if it was possible to estimate how many times over the next few months he would be apologizing to Mama for his daughter's behavior.

  "Well, she knows her way home. Well leave the door unlocked and the lights on," Mama told him without the slightest note of annoyance in her voice.

  He nodded and dropped his defeated body into

  Grandpa Jordan's chair. He smiled with delight, commenting on how comfortable it was and how at home it made him feel. It made me wonder if marrying Mama would give him the ability to experience the spiritual powers in our home. Would he draw strength from them as she did? Mama glanced at me, her eyes twinkling. To my amazement she still looked happy about it all, even the impending problems Betsy would bring into the house.

  I didn't wait up for Betsy. I was sure that Mr. Fletcher did. however. He didn't go up to bed until late, sitting by the windows in the living room so he could watch for car headlights. Finally. Mama coaxed him up the stairs and into their bedroom. It was nearly morning when I woke up to the sounds of Betsy returning.

  She did little to mask her entrance. She shut the front door hard enough to shake the walls, then stomped up the stairs, deliberately rattling the balustrade.

  Mr. Fletcher had probably not slept at all. The moment she reached the landing. I heard him step out and whisper loudly. "Do you realize what time it is and how much noise you're making? You'll wake the baby."

  "Why should I care what time it is? I'm not going to work tomorrow. I can't help it if that old, rickety stairway creaks. This place is just a big shack."

  "Betsy," he said sharply.

  "Well, it is. Tell everyone I would like to sleep all day and no one should bother me." She went into her room and slammed her door closed.

  I heard Mama call to Mr. Fletcher. "Come on back. Dave. Get some rest. You're going to work in a few hours."

  He muttered under his breath and went back into their bedroom.

  No one tried to be any quieter than usual in the morning to please the princess. If anything. Mama deliberately banged doors and slammed dresser drawers. She spoke loudly to Baby Celeste and plodded down the stairs making more noise than Betsy had coming up a few hours earlier,

  Mr. Fletcher smiled at breakfast and shook his head, "It won't matter if we set off a bomb dawn here. When that girl sleeps, it would take a crane to get her out of the bed."

  Today was his last day to work before the wedding. He was taking the next day off and then they were to be married. He would take the following day off and then return to work, saying his vacation time for when Mama decided they should take the trip. They thought it might be fun someday to drive up to Niagara Falls, just because it was the old-fashioned idea for a honeymoon. He had gotten some pamphlets and had them on the table in the living room, hopefully to get Betsy interested. When he had mentioned it before to her, she had complained about driving so far.

  "I get nauseous in a car, and besides, what would I do?"

  She smiled at him and me and Mama and added, "Why don't you two go and leave us at home. We can care for the baby, can't we. Noble?"

  The very idea of it, of being alone with her in this house, made me shake inside.

  "You have trouble taking care of yourself, much less an infant," Mr. Fletcher told her.

  She didn't get insulted. She just laughed that taunting laugh of hers and flipped one of the brochures.

  You can count me out of this," she declared firmly. "I'll stay here and watch over the plants. You'd trust me with that, wouldn't you. Mrs. Atwell?"

  She loved to taunt Mama by calling her Mrs. Atwell instead of Sarah. I had no doubt that even after her father and Mama were married, she would still call her that.

  "I think it would be nice if you started to call Sarah Morn," her father told her, and she shot him a look so furious, he was lucky her eyes couldn't launch darts.

  "She's not my mom so why should I call her that?"

  "She'll be the best mom you ever had." he replied. "I don't need a mother," she said, wagging her head.

  "What do you need, Betsy'?" Mama asked her softly, her face full of interest.

  "Money," Betsy cried, unable to deal with Mama's calmness. "so I can get the hell out of here."

  "So get a job," her father said."Ill even help you find one."

  She sat back with her arms so tightly crossed, she made the veins in her neck press against the skin until they looked embossed. She was soon in her sulk, and nothing anyone said or did
would bring her out of it. It was better to just ignore her and go on to some other topic. What a happy home we're going to soon have. I thought.

  As her father had predicted, the day after her New York trip Betsy didn't rise until it was already afternoon. We were having lunch, and when she came down, she unleashed a flow of complaints that seemed to nest in her mouth as comfortably as termites in damp, rotted wood.

  "I can't sleep in that room! The bed is too soft and the windows sound like they're about to shatter when the wind hits them. I can't get the smell out of the room either, If I open the windows in there, mosquitos come through the holes in the screen. I need a fan or something."

  "You seem to have slept well," Mama said, pretending surprise. "I didn't sleep well. I slept. Why do the closets have that odor?" "Mothballs," Mama told her.

  "Mothballs? What are mothballs?"

  "They keep moths away from the clothes so they don't eat holes through them." "Ugh. Bugs live in the house? We didn't have many bugs in our old house."

  "We don't have them either. That's why I have the mothballs," Mama said dryly.

  I don't know if it was just my imagination, but sometimes when Mama spoke to her, she had a small smile on her lips.

  "The whole house needs to be sprayed with something that will kill the odors, if you ask me," Betsy whined.

  She started to search the kitchen cabinets and the pantry for something to eat and grumbled her grievances about the food Mama had.

  "There isn't even a doughnut here."

  "That's not a nutritional breakfast," Mama told her. "Ill fix you some toast and jam. The jam's homemade,"

  "Oh. brother. Can you drive me to town or let me use your car?"

  "No. I can't let you use the car. Your father didn't give me permission for that. and I have things to do before I can go into town. Amuse yourself for a while."

  "Doing what?"