She slipped her thumb into her mouth and began sucking on it.
That, too, gave her a certain amount of comfort.
Above her, a limp paper bird swung slowly at the end of a string.
Dimly, in the far reaches of her mind, a memory stirred. When she was a baby, there had been a mobile of birds hanging above her crib.
She could remember watching it hour after hour, the birds soaring slowly in circles.
Christie drew her legs up tighter and pulled the teddy bear closer to her chest.
Watching the bird floating above her, she began to forget about the present.
Yes, things had been better long ago, when she was a baby.
Her mother had been with her then, and everything had been fine.
If only she were still a little baby.…
Hours later, Diana crept into the nursery and looked down at the sleeping child.
“Christie?” she whispered.
Christie stirred in her sleep, and her thumb came out of her mouth.
Diana reached down and touched Christie’s hand.
The hand closed on her finger.
“Baby? Are you awake?”
Again Christie stirred, but this time her eyes opened slightly.
“Mama?” she asked softly.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Diana crooned. “It’s your mama.”
She picked Christie up and took her to the bed.
Cradling the sleepy child in her arms, she sat down and gently rocked her.
“Mama?” Christie’s eyes gazed up at her. “Mama, don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” Diana whispered. “Your mama won’t ever leave you alone again.”
Still holding Christie in her arms, Diana stood up again and left the nursery. She went down the back stairs to the second floor and moved along the hall.
When she was in front of her mother’s room, she paused.
“Little girls never leave their mamas, do they?” she asked, facing the closed door. Then she answered her own question. “No, they never do. They stay with their mamas forever and ever, and they never grow up.”
She went on down the hall to her own room, slipped inside, and closed the door behind her.
“Their mamas don’t let them,” she whispered as she put Christie on her own bed and tucked the covers around the half-asleep child.
When she was done, she slipped into the bed, Christie nestled at her side.
A moment later she was sound asleep.
Down the hall, Edna Amber’s door opened, and she stared at the now empty hall.
Outside, she could hear the wind howling.
She knew that Diana had been in front of her door a moment ago, and that she had been speaking.
But what had she been saying?
The wind had drowned out her words.
15
“Jeff?”
Jeff Crowley looked up from his breakfast. His father had a strange expression on his face, an expression that was unfamiliar to Jeff, but that an older person would have recognized as quizzical.
“Did you have a good time out at the Ambers’ yesterday?”
Jeff bobbed his head. “It was really neat. Miss Diana took us up to the mine, and hiking, and we’re going to have a camp-out.”
“A camp-out?” Matt glanced uneasily at his wife, but Joyce seemed unconcerned. “Where?”
“There’s a bunch of trees, with a little spring in it, and a big rock.” Jeff scratched his head thoughtfully.
“I’m not exactly sure where it is.”
“But it’s on the Ambers’ property?”
“I guess so.” Jeff shrugged. “What does it matter?”
“What does it matter, Matt?” Joyce echoed. “Who all’s going to go?” she asked Jeff.
“Me and Christie, and any of the other kids that want to, I guess.”
“And Diana’s going with you?”
He wondered if he should tell them what had happened to Miss Diana at the mine. He decided not to. “Yeah,” Jeff said.
Matt noticed his son’s hesitation, but Joyce spoke before he could press Jeff further.
“What about the other kids?” she asked. “Will they go?”
“I can talk them into it,” Jeff said confidently. “I bet I can even talk Jay-Jay into it. I’ll tell her she’s chicken if she doesn’t go.”
Now Matt did interrupt. “You do, and I’ll have your hide.”
Jeff looked at his father, perplexed. “Why? Jay-Jay’s always doing that. Every time she thinks up something, and the rest of us don’t want to do it, she says we’re chicken.”
“Jay-Jay may do that, but that doesn’t make it right,” Joyce told her son. “Anyway, what could she think up that you or Steve or Eddie wouldn’t want to go along with?”
Suddenly Jeff was wary. He didn’t want to risk being a tattletale, and he was afraid his mother might call Jay-Jay’s. “I can’t remember,” he said, remembering the time Jay-Jay had suggested they throw rocks through Mrs. Berkey’s window. He got up from the table. “Can I go over to Steve’s?”
“Okay, but the next time Jay-Jay says you’re chicken, you just ignore her,” Joyce said.
When Jeff was gone, Matt looked uneasily at his wife.
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” he asked.
“The camp-out? I think it’s a wonderful idea. It’ll be great for the kids, and good for Diana, too.”
“Do you think she can handle it?”
“Can anybody handle a bunch of kids on a campout?” Joyce countered, but Matt ignored her attempt at humor.
“She doesn’t know anything about kids. And don’t forget all the talk we’ve heard all these years.”
Joyce stood up and began clearing the table. “And that’s all it is—talk,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with Diana that getting out more won’t cure.”
“I’m not so sure,” Matt said. Then, seeing that Joyce was about to launch into a lecture, he slid his chair back from the table and glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going. I promised Phil Penrose I’d take a look at his roof today.” He smiled wryly. “From mine superintendent to handyman. Some life, huh?”
Joyce kissed her husband. “Something will turn up,” she told him. “It always does.”
When he was gone, Joyce poured herself another cup of coffee and sat down again. Perhaps, she thought, she should pay another call on Diana.
Just to make sure.
Bill Henry hadn’t slept well.
All night he’d kept going over and over the strange story Edna Amber had told him, and by dawn had decided the only thing to do was talk to Diana. After breakfast, he dialed the Ambers’ number.
To his relief it was Diana who picked up the phone.
“It’s Bill,” he said.
“And a glorious good morning to you.”
Her tone reassured him, and Bill began to relax.
“I slept like a log last night,” she went on. “Motherhood appears to be good for me.”
As she spoke the last words Bill’s moment of ease evaporated and when he spoke again, his voice took on a serious tone. “Diana, could you have dinner with me tonight?”
There was a slight hesitation, then: “Can I bring Christie along?”
“I was hoping it could be just the two of us,” Bill replied. The last thing he wanted was to have someone else there.
“I don’t know.” Diana’s voice was pensive. “Christie’s pretty young to stay by herself.”
“She won’t be by herself,” Bill pointed out. “Your mother will be there.”
Now there was a long silence, and when Diana spoke again, she sounded wistful.
“Can’t we include her? Please?”
Bill shrugged: perhaps they could talk after dinner.
“Okay. Shall I pick you up about six?”
“Fine. See you then.”
As he put the phone back on the hook Bill had mixed feelings. He was pleased that Diana had, for the first time in
his memory, accepted an invitation without consulting her mother first. But there was something else, too. Was she afraid to leave Christie with Miss Edna? That made no sense at all. Granted, the old woman wanted Christie out of the house, but he couldn’t imagine that she would actually harm the child.
Then he remembered that only a few days ago Edna Amber had come to town by herself, for the first time in years, to talk to Dan Gurley. Why?
Checking his calendar and finding no appointments, Bill left his office and walked the two blocks to the town hall.
Dan glanced up as Bill came into his office.
“If it’s a crisis, I don’t want to hear about it,” the marshal said sourly.
“It’s not.” Bill told Dan about Diana’s apparent fear of leaving Christie with her mother. Dan, as was his habit, scratched his nose while he listened.
“Well, Miss Edna was pretty upset that day,” he said when Bill was done. “But it seemed to me that she was more worried about Diana and herself than mad at the kid. She was just pissed off that something had finally upset her applecart.”
“Did you tell her that?”
Dan grinned, remembering. “Yep. And she got downright abusive about it, too. Still thinks she runs the town. I guess she always will.”
Bill moved to the window and stood staring out into the peaceful streets of the village. “Do you think she’s any threat to Christie Lyons?” he asked, his back still to the marshal.
Dan shrugged unconcernedly. “I can’t see why she would be. But who knows? She’s an old tiger, and it seems to me like she’s defending her cub. If you can call a fifty-year-old woman a cub.”
Bill shook his head sadly. Then he brightened. “Things seem to be changing out there. Miss Edna actually called me yesterday. She caught her hand in a rattrap, which she seemed to think Christie had set specifically to catch her.”
“Getting paranoid, is she?” Dan asked.
“Looking for an excuse to force Diana to send Christie away, is more like it.”
“I’m sorry for Diana.” Dan sighed. “But it’s her own fault. She should have cleared out of there years ago.”
“Maybe she will yet,” Bill said, thinking about the evening ahead. But to himself, he admitted that he doubted it.
Christie rummaged through her clothes and finally found a pair of jeans. As she pulled them on she thought about the night before.
Sleeping in Aunt Diana’s bed had been nice. She had awakened twice during the night, but the soft warmth of Diana’s body next to her own had made her feel safe, and when she had wiggled, Diana had pulled her closer and stroked her until she had fallen back to sleep.
She put on a T-shirt, then found her sneakers under the bed. The one good thing about the nursery, she decided, was that she didn’t have to keep it too neat—Miss Edna hardly ever came upstairs, and Aunt Diana didn’t seem to notice if she left things lying around.
Her shoes tied, she bounded down the back stairs to the kitchen.
She looked out the window. Off in the distance she saw some children playing in the field.
“Aunt Diana?” she called. She went to the diningroom door and called again. “Aunt Diana!”
“Ha! La muchacha!”
Christie, startled, turned to see Esperanza Rodriguez coming down the stairs.
“Is Aunt Diana up there?” she asked shyly.
“No,” Esperanza replied. “But Miss Edna—she is in the parlor. Do you want to go talk to her?”
Christie shook her head. “She doesn’t like me.”
Esperanza chuckled, her large bosom heaving. “She don’t like anybody, that one. But nobody like her, either, no?”
Esperanza moved slowly into the kitchen, and Christie followed her.
“Why doesn’t she like anyone?” she asked.
Esperanza shrugged and settled herself at the kitchen table, where she began shelling peas from a bowl she held on her lap.
“Life has not been what she wanted it to be,” she said softly. “Not for Señorita Diana, either. And, since her baby, this has not been a happy house. If it ever was,” she added.
Christie stared at Esperanza, her eyes filled with puzzlement. “Aunt Diana had a baby?”
“Sí,” Esperanza said, nodding. “But it died and went to live with the children.”
Christie frowned. “What children?”
Esperanza stopped working and met Christie’s eyes. “The ones in the cave,” she said. “Up on the hill, behind the mine.”
Christie scratched her head, trying to figure out what Esperanza was talking about. Then an idea occurred to her.
“Are they the water babies?”
“Sí,” Esperanza said. She took the peas to the sink, then began peeling some carrots.
“But who are they?” Christie asked.
“Little children,” Esperanza said. “Little babies who were never alive. They wait in the cave, and someday they will live again.”
Christie stared at her, wide-eyed. “You mean they’re ghosts?” she breathed.
“Oh, no. To be a ghost you have to live. And the water babies never lived.” She paused for a moment, then, under her breath, she said something else: “Except for one.”
Suddenly another voice filled the room, and Christie whirled around to see Edna Amber’s tall form looming in the dining-room doorway.
“Esperanza, what are you telling that child?” the old woman demanded. Under Edna’s wrath Esperanza seemed to shrink.
“Nada, señora,” she said. She dropped the carrot into the sink and scuttled out the back door. When she was gone, Edna turned to Christie.
“What was she saying?” she demanded once more.
“N-nothing,” Christie told her, desperately trying to keep from bursting into tears. “Just a story.”
“A story?” Edna asked. “What kind of story?”
Christie, her eyes darting like a rabbit’s, searched the room, but there was no refuge.
“About the children,” she whispered. “The children in the cave.”
Edna’s eyes bored into her.
“It’s a lie,” she said. “There is no cave, and there are no children. She’s an ignorant, superstitious peasant, and you mustn’t listen to her. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Miss Edna,” Christie breathed. Her eyes fastened onto Edna’s cane, which the old woman had lifted from the floor and now held hovering in the air.
“Don’t hurt me,” Christie whispered. “Please don’t hurt me.”
Edna glared at her, then her eyes softened, and she slowly lowered the cane.
“Hurt you?” she asked. “Why would I want to hurt you?” She glanced out the window and saw the children playing in the field a hundred yards away. “Go on,” she said. “Go play with your friends.”
Christie, as if released from a trap, fled out the back door.
Today Joyce Crowley was walking out to the Ambers’, since Matt had taken the pickup truck. As she neared the driveway she stopped for a moment to watch the children playing in the field.
They were playing tag, and Christie Lyons seemed to be “it.” Jeff and Steve were there, along with Eddie Whitefawn and Susan Gillespie. Jay-Jay Jennings, if she was with them, was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly Jeff saw his mother and came running over to her.
“Hi!”
“Hi, yourself. You getting hungry?”
“Unh-hunh.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what. I’m going over to talk to Miss Diana for a few minutes. When I’m done, why don’t we take all your friends home for lunch?”
“Oh, boy! Can we?”
“Why can’t we? It’s our house!” Joyce tousled her son’s hair and watched while he rejoined his friends. Then she continued along the road.
As she approached the house she heard Miss Edna’s imperious voice, railing at Diana.
“I won’t stand for it, Diana,” Edna was saying. “I won’t have you getting involved with William Henry again! Do you understand me??
??
Joyce, embarrassed at overhearing an argument, quickly crossed the porch and pressed the bell. Silence fell in the house, and a moment later Diana opened the door, her face strained.
“Who is it?” Edna called from the living room.
“Joyce Crowley, Mother,” Diana called back. She dropped her voice. “Let’s go into the kitchen.” She quickly led Joyce through the dining room and offered her a cup of coffee.
“Got any lemonade?” Joyce asked. “It’s getting hot out there.”
“Seven-Up okay?” Diana asked as she searched the refrigerator.
“Fine.” Joyce paused, then decided to plunge right into the reason for her visit. “How did it go yesterday? With Jeff being here, I mean.”
Diana brought glasses and the 7-Up to the table and sat down. Had Jeff told his mother what had happened up at the mine? “We had a good time,” she offered. As she saw the look of relief that passed over Joyce’s face, she realized that Jeff had said nothing. “And I didn’t crack under the strain,” she added, forcing herself to smile over the nervousness she was feeling.
Joyce chuckled ruefully. “Was I that obvious? Well, Matt always says I’m totally transparent.”
As Joyce’s expression turned desolate Diana suddenly laughed. “Don’t apologize to me, Joyce,” she said. “Except for Bill Henry, you’re the only person who’s ever even bothered to talk to me about my life.”
Joyce’s eyes flickered toward the kitchen door. Then she reached out to touch Diana’s hand. “Is it that bad?”
Diana was still for a moment, then shook her head. “I suppose it used to be worse. I guess it’s just that she doesn’t want me to grow up, Joyce.” Diana took a deep breath and stood up. “Well, I’d better find Christie and fix some lunch.”
Joyce, too, stood up. “She’s outside with the rest of the kids. I invited them all over to have lunch with Jeff. Christie, too. Is that all right?”
Diana’s hesitation was almost imperceptible.
“Of course,” she said. “Just make sure she comes home by four, okay?”
Joyce agreed and let herself out the back door. As she disappeared around the corner of the house, Diana slowly fingered her glass.
She wished Christie weren’t going to the Crowleys’. She had wanted to fix lunch for Christie herself. Indeed, she wanted to do everything for Christie.