Michelle stopped walking, and watched the fog as it crept steadily toward her, flooding across the graveyard whose only visible feature, from where she stood, was the gnarled oak tree. As she watched, the fog engulfed the tree, and it faded away into the grayness.
Suddenly, something seemed to move in the fog.
It was indistinct at first, no more than a dark shadow against the gray of the mist.
Tentatively, Michelle took a step forward, leaving the road.
The shadow moved toward her, and began to darken, and take on a shape.
The shape of a young girl, clad in black, her head covered with a bonnet.
The girl Michelle had seen the night before, in her dream.
Or had it been a dream?
The beginnings of fear gripped Michelle, and a coldness surrounded her.
The strange figure moved in with the fog, advancing toward her. Michelle stood transfixed, staring, unsure of what she was seeing.
The fog drifted around the black-clad child, and for a moment it disappeared, until the wind shifted, and the mists suddenly parted.
She was still there, silent, completely still now, her empty eyes fixed on Michelle with the same milky pale, sightless stare that Michelle had seen the night before.
The figure raised one black-clad arm, and beckoned.
Almost involuntarily, Michelle took a step forward.
And the strange vision disappeared.
Michelle stood quite still, terrified.
The fog, very close to her now, was beginning to surround her, soft tendrils of mist, cool and damp, reaching out to her as moments before the dark apparition had beckoned.
Slowly, Michelle began to back away from the mist.
Her foot touched the pavement of the road, and the firm feel of the asphalt beneath her seemed to break the spell. Only seconds before, the fog seemed to have become almost a living thing. Now it was only fog again.
As the fading light of the September afternoon filtered through the mist, Michelle hurried along tibie road toward the comfort of the Bensons’.
“Hi!” Jeff said as he opened the door. “I was going to come and look for you—you were supposed to be here at six.”
“But it can’t be six yet!” Michelle protested. “I left home at five-thirty, and it only took me a few minutes to walk down here.”
“It’s six-thirty now.” Jeff pointed to the grandfather clock that dominated the Bensons’ hall. “What did you do, stop in the graveyard?”
Michelle gave Jeff a sharp look, but saw nothing in his eyes except curiosity. She was about to tell him what had happened when once again she remembered the conversation at lunchtime that day. Abruptly, she changed her mind.
“I guess our clock’s wrong,” she said. “What’s for dinner?”
“Pot roast.” Jeff made a face and led Michelle to the dining room, where his mother was waiting.
Constance Benson surveyed Michelle critically as she came into the room. “We were getting worried—I was about to send Jeff out looking for you.”
“I’m sorry,” Michelle said, slipping onto her chair. “I guess our clock must be slow.”
“Either that, or you were dawdling,” Constance said severely. “I don’t approve of dawdling.”
“It was the fog,” Michelle confessed. “When the fog came in, I stopped to watch it.”
Michelle reached out and helped herself to the pot roast, unaware that both Jeff and his mother were staring at her in puzzlement.
Constance’s eyes went to the window. If there had been fog, she certainly hadn’t seen it. To her, the evening looked perfectly clear.
CHAPTER 8
Cal reached out and squeezed June’s hand affectionately. They were nearly home, and he drove slowly, weaving back and forth to avoid the worst of the pits in the road, then sighed in relief as he turned into their driveway.
He parked the car as close to the house as he could, and took the baby from his wife’s arms. “Let me put Jennifer in the nursery, then I’ll come back for you.”
“I’m not crippled.” June eased herself out of the car and started toward the front door. “ ‘A little shaky, but on our feet.’ What’s that from?”
“Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Except it’s not apropos. The character was drunk.”
“I could use a drink,” June said halfheartedly. “I don’t suppose I can have one?”
“You suppose right.” He cradled Jennifer in one arm and offered the other to June, who took it gratefully.
“All right, having a baby wasn’t as easy as I claimed. Bed is going to feel good.”
They went into the darkened house. June waited at the foot of the stairs while Cal took Jennifer up. A moment later he was back, and, leaning heavily on him, June made her way slowly up the stairs.
“I hope there isn’t anything I have to do,” she said wearily when they had reached the top. “Is everything all ready?”
“All you have to do is get into the bed, which is all turned back. And Michelle left us a note. She wants us to call her at the Bensons’ as soon as we get home.”
“As if we wouldn’t,” June chuckled. “Leave it to Michelle to think of everything.”
She took off the robe and hospital gown they’d given her at the clinic. Then, before putting on her own comfortable flannel nightgown, she glanced at herself in the mirror.
“My God, are you sure I’m done? I look like I’m still pregnant!”
“You will for two or three weeks,” Cal assured her. “Nothing abnormal. Just a lot of extra tissue that has to go back where it came from. Now go to bed.”
“Yes, sir!” June replied, saluting weakly. She eased herself into the bed, and sank back against the pillows. “All right, I’m here.” She smiled up at her husband. “Why don’t you bring Jennifer in, then call Michelle? I’ll bet she saw us go by.”
Cal brought the baby from the adjoining nursery, and picked up the telephone. “She even left the Ben-sons’ number in the note,” he commented.
“I’d have been surprised if she hadn’t.” June lowered the top of her nightgown, and nestled the baby against her breast. Hungrily, Jennifer began nursing.
“Mrs. Benson? Is Michelle there?” Cal said into the telephone. His eyes remained fondly on his wife and infant daughter. He reached out to touch Jennifer’s tiny head as he waited for Michelle to come to the phone.
“Daddy? Are you home? Is Mom all right?”
“We’re home, and everybody’s fine. You can come back anytime you want to. And hurry. Your sister’s eating and growing, and if you want to see her as a baby, you’d better get here within the next ten minutes.”
There was a short silence at the other end. When Michelle spoke again, there was an element in her voice, an uncertainty, that Cal thought was unusual.
“Daddy? Could you come and pick me up?”
Cal frowned and June, noticing the change in his expression, looked at him curiously.
“Pick you up? But you’re only a few hundred yards down the road …”
“Please?” Michelle begged. “Just this once?”
“Hang on a second,” he said. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand, and spoke to June.
“She wants me to pick her up.” He sounded puzzled, but June only shrugged.
“So, pick her up.”
“I’m not sure I should leave you alone,” Cal said.
“I’ll be fine. You won’t be gone more than five minutes. What can happen? I’ll just lie here and feed Jennifer.”
Cal removed his hand from the mouthpiece. “Okay, honey. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Will you be ready?”
“I’ll be right by the front door,” Michelle replied, her voice sounding much stronger.
Cal said good-bye and put the receiver back on the hook. “I don’t get it. She’s so self-sufficient, and all of a sudden she wants to be picked up less than a quarter of a mile away.”
“I don’t think it’s so surprising,” June s
aid mildly. “It’s dark out there, you have to go right by a graveyard, and, let’s face it, we’ve been pretty much ignoring her all day and she probably wants some attention. My God, darling, she’s only twelve years old. Sometimes I think we forget that.”
“But it’s not like her. She knows there are all kinds of things to be done—”
“She already did them,” June pointed out. “Now stop stalling, and go get her. By now, you could have been gone and back.”
Cal struggled into his coat, kissed his wife and baby, and left the house.
Before Cal could toot the horn, the Bensons’ front door opened. A moment later Michelle was in the car next to him.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” she said as her father put the car in gear.
Cal glanced at her curiously. “Since when are you afraid of the dark?”
Michelle retreated to the far side of the seat, and Cal was immediately sorry for his implied criticism. “It’s all right,” he added quickly. “Your mother’s in bed feeding the baby, and everything’s fine. But what spooked you?”
Mollified, Michelle moved closer to her father. “I don’t know,” she hedged, not wanting to tell him what she’d seen in the fog that evening. “I guess I just didn’t want to walk by the graveyard at night.”
“Has Jeff been telling you ghost stories?” Cal inquired. Michelle shook her head.
“He doesn’t believe in ghosts. At least that’s what he says.” She stressed the last word, just slightly. “But it’s so dark tonight, I just didn’t want to walk by myself. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
They made the rest of the short trip in silence.
“You were a busy girl this afternoon.”
With Jennifer sleeping peacefully in the crook of her arm, June smiled at her older daughter, and gestured for her to come and sit on the edge of the bed. “Everything was perfect. You must have worked all afternoon.”
“It didn’t take long,” Michelle replied, her eyes fastened on the baby. “She’s so small!”
“It’s the only size they come in. Would you like to hold her?”
“Can I?” Michelle’s voice was filled with eagerness.
“Here.” June lifted the baby, handed her to Michelle, then rearranged herself against the pillows. “You hold her just like a doll,” she instructed. “Tuck her into your elbow, and let her lie on your arm.”
As Michelle looked down into the tiny face resting against her chest, Jennifer opened her eyes, and burped.
“Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. If she starts crying, I’ll take her. As long as she isn’t crying, nothing’s wrong.” As if to prove her mother’s point, Jennifer closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
“Tell me everything,” Michelle said suddenly, her eyes finally leaving the baby and looking eagerly to her mother.
“Well, there isn’t much to tell. I was out taking a walk, and I went into labor. That’s all there was to it.”
“But in the graveyard?” Michelle asked. “Didn’t it give you the creeps?”
“Why should it?”
“But Jenny wasn’t supposed to come yet. What happened?”
“Nothing happened. Jenny just decided it was time, that’s all.”
There was a silence as Michelle turned things over in her mind. When she finally spoke again, her voice was hesitant. “Why were you at Louise Carson’s grave?”
“I had to be at one of the graves, didn’t I? I was in the graveyard, after all.” June was careful to keep her voice level, disarming. And she wondered why.
“Did you see her headstone?” Michelle asked.
“Of course I did.”
“What do you suppose it means?”
“I’m sure it doesn’t mean a thing,” June said, holding out her arms to take Jennifer, who was awake again and beginning to cry. Michelle handed the baby back to her mother almost reluctantly. “She needs to be fed,” June explained. “Then you can hold her again.”
Michelle stood up, uncertain whether she should stay in the room while her mother nursed the baby. “Why don’t you make a pot of tea?” June suggested. “And tell your father to come up. Okay?”
June watched Michelle leave the room, as Jennifer eagerly began sucking at her breast She tried to make herself relax, but it was impossible. Something had happened to Michelle. She couldn’t figure out what it was, except she was almost sure that it had to do with the graveyard. But what?
Michelle lay awake in bed, listening to the silence of the house. It seemed to her that it was too silent.
That, she was sure, was why she wasn’t able to sleep.
That, and the fact that she was all alone at her end of the house.
Down the hall.
That’s where everybody else was.
Her father, and her mother, and her baby sister. Everyone but her.
She got out of bed, put her robe over her shoulders, and left her room.
She stood outside her parents’ room for a moment, listening, then silently opened the door and went in.
“Mommy?”
June turned over and opened her eyes, surprised to find Michelle standing by the bed. “What time is it?”
“It’s only eleven,” Michelle said defensively. June pulled herself up to a sitting position.
“What’s wrong?”
“I—I couldn’t sleep.”
“You couldn’t sleep? Why not?”
“I don’t know,” Michelle said quietly, sitting down on the bed. “Maybe I drank too much tea?”
“That’s coffee, sweetheart.” She felt Cal shift next to her, then the baby suddenly began crying. Cal woke abruptly and switched on the light. Then he saw Michelle.
“What are you doing in here? Is that why the baby’s crying?”
Seeing Michelle suddenly on the verge of tears, June tried to save the situation. “The baby’s hungry, and Michelle couldn’t sleep. Why don’t you get Jenny for me, and then go down and reheat the tea? Michelle can stay with me while I feed little miss loudmouth.” She winked at Michelle, and Michelle suddenly felt better.
“I’ll get Jenny,” she offered.
Sighing heavily, Cal pulled his robe on and went downstairs. June waited until he was out of earshot, then tried to apologize for him. “He didn’t mean that it was your fault Jenny was crying. He was just asleep, that’s all.”
“It’s all right,” Michelle said listlessly. “I was just lonely, I guess.”
“Well, it’s a big house.” A thought struck her, and without waiting to think it out, she spoke. “Maybe we should move you down to this end, closer to us,” she suggested.
“Oh, no,” Michelle replied quickly. “I love my room. I feel like I belong there. Ever since I found Mandy …”
“Mandy? I thought her name was Amanda.”
“Well, it is. But Mandy’s the same thing, just like some people shorten my name to Mickey. Ugh! But Mandy’s pretty.”
Cal came back into the room, carrying a tray with three steaming cups of tea. “Only this once,” he announced. “From now on, just because Jennifer gets hungry it doesn’t mean we’re going to have a picnic. And you, young lady, are supposed to be in bed. You have to go to school tomorrow.”
“I’ll be all right. I just got lonely.” She took a sip of her tea, then stood up. “Will you tuck me in?”
Cal grinned at her. “I haven’t done that for years.”
“Just tonight?” Michelle pleaded.
Cal glanced at his wife, then nodded. “All right,” he said. “Finish your tea, and let’s go.”
Michelle drained her cup and leaned over to kiss her mother, then followed her father out of the room and down the hall to her own bedroom.
Climbing into bed, she pulled the covers snugly around her chin, and offered her cheek to her father. Cal bent down, kissed her, then straightened up.
“You’ll be asleep in no time,” he promised. He was about to turn off the light and return to June an
d the baby when Michelle suddenly asked him for her doll.
“She’s on the window seat. Could you get her for me?”
Cal picked up the ancient doll, and glanced at its porcelain face. “Doesn’t look very real, does it?” he commented as he handed the doll to Michelle. She tucked it protectively under the covers, its head resting on her shoulder.
“She’s real enough,” Michelle told her father. He smiled at her, then turned off the lights. Closing the door quietly behind him, he started down the hall.
Once again, Michelle was alone in her room, listening to the silence of the house. As the darkness gathered oppressively around her, she drew the doll closer, and whispered softly to it.
“It isn’t like I thought it was going to be. I was looking forward to having Jenny so much. But now she’s here, and everything’s so different. They’re all in there together, and I’m all by myself. Mommy has Jennifer to take care of now. But who do I have?”
Then a thought came to her.
“I could take care of you, Mandy. Really I could …”
She snuggled the doll closer, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “I’ll take care of you, just like Mommy takes care of Jenny. Would you like that? I’ll be your mother, Amanda, and give you anything you want. And you’ll stay with me, won’t you? So I’ll never be lonely again?”
Crying quietly, with the doll pressed close against her, Michelle fell asleep.
CHAPTER 9
Michelle awoke on Saturday morning to the soft sound of birds chirping. She lay still in bed, enjoying the knowledge that this morning she didn’t have to hurry, this morning she could stay in bed for a few minutes and enjoy the sun flooding her room, its warmth seeping through the blankets and filling her with a sense of well-being. Today was going to be a good day.
Today was the day of the picnic at the cove.
Until this morning, Michelle hadn’t been sure she would go to the picnic.
The pain of Susan Peterson’s taunting had begun to fade after three days; even the memory of the strange girl who had appeared first in her dream, then in the graveyard on Tuesday, was fading. And since the arrival of Jennifer, Michelle’s mind had been too full of other things to dwell on the black-clad image that had seemed to want something from her.