Chapter 28
Chapter 28
The house sealed itself off from the world.
Men from Miss Wellwood’s church came and nailed plywood over the broken windows, entombing them. Their rooms became airless and dark. They had to leave their lights on all day and when night came they sat in the glare of the harsh overhead light, occasionally drifting off, jerking awake whenever a toilet flushed. They heard Miss Wellwood’s clock chime midnight, marking their entry into the longest, hardest part of their endless, sleepless night.
Tuesday morning, before anyone else was awake, they got the dustpan Miriam had left out for them and swept up the lines of salt from inside the three downstairs doors, then flushed it down the commode. Salt. Fern had thought about it all summer—Sno Wite’s salty French fries, steaks coming off the grill while showers of salt rained down on them, crunchy potato chips, crusty pretzels—and now this thin line of salt on the floorboards was supposed to protect them? It looked like the pouches. It looked like scraps and gestures.
“But nothing happened,” Zinnia reassured her. “It kept her out.”
During the day, Fern believed her. But that night, her heart raced and her mind chased itself in circles. Miss Parcae was just outside the Home, waiting to come in and erase who she was forever. Charlie Brown squirmed inside her, so close to being born. He was coming. Miss Parcae was coming. They couldn’t be stopped.
Holly was on two-week warning now and didn’t have to clean, so she stuck close to Fern all day. The reborn Miss Wellwood lectured them at breakfast, lunch, and dinner about their generation’s godlessness, berating them for turning to witchcraft and superstition, for creating nothing but vulgarity and bad taste. Most of the girls picked their fingernails, barely listening, but Fern constantly ran her finger around her collar to make sure Miss Wellwood couldn’t see the red string.
That night, Violet told everyone she’d seen Miss Wellwood talking to her father’s portrait in the classroom. She said she kept apologizing to it.
“She even cried,” Violet said. “That woman’s cracking up.”
Nurse Kent called for lights out, and the girls retreated to their rooms. Nurse had given up her guard post at the top of the stairs and gone back to watching TV. Fern suspected she napped. In their room, she got into bed and Zinnia turned off the light.
Fern struggled out of bed and snapped it back on.
“We have to stay up,” she said.
“I have to sleep,” Zinnia said.
Fern looked at Holly, whose eyelids were swollen and half-closed.
“What if she comes?”
“If she could get in, she would have by now,” Zinnia said. “Hagar says she wants to scare us, so the best thing we can do is ignore her.”
“When did you start believing everything Hagar says?” Fern sniped.
“If I don’t get any sleep I’m going to lose my mind!” Zinnia snapped back.
She got up, pushed Fern aside, and turned out the light. Fern decided not to argue.
She couldn’t sleep. Dinner wasn’t sitting right, and she felt like she had to go to the bathroom. No matter how she lay, she couldn’t get comfortable. Being so tired made everything hurt, and her back ached, and her bones didn’t feel like they connected the way they should.
She listened to Holly and Zinnia beside her, one of them breathing deep, the other snoring hard, the fan rattling in the chair, sweat trickling down her chest. She’d never felt more alone.
She must have fallen asleep at some point because her head snapped up at a sound right outside their door. Suddenly, she was wide awake, her body on alert. Someone was in the hall. Someone trying not to be heard.
Fern rolled herself out of bed and was aware of Zinnia, eyes open, watching her in the dark.
“Hear that?” Fern whispered.
Zinnia nodded and silently whipped back her sheet. Fern didn’t know how Zinnia could be so pregnant and move so fast but in two seconds she was standing beside Fern. Holly sat up, too. Zinnia put one finger over her lips and pointed at the door.
Fern didn’t know what to do, but Zinnia did.
Before Fern could stop her she tiptoed to the door and threw it open.
No one was there.
She and Fern leaned into the hall. To their right, the stairs were empty, but to their left they saw the back of a pair of yellow pajamas sneaking away.
“Hey,” Zinnia said.
The girl’s back straightened and she turned.
“Shh,” Violet whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
“What are you doing?” Fern whispered, annoyed and angry as the adrenaline drained from her veins.
“Leave me alone,” Violet whispered.
She started to turn away again.
“What’s that?” Zinnia asked, grabbing Violet’s arm.
She wrenched her hand up. Violet held a page torn out of a magazine and twisted into a cone.
“Quiet,” Violet hissed, then looked around before lowering her voice even more. “It’s salt. A bunch of it. Y’all can have some if you don’t tell.”
“Where’d you get it?” Fern whispered.
But she already knew.
Violet rolled her eyes and made an “it’s no big deal” face.
“I saw that housekeeper scattering it in front of the door. It’s some kind of colored superstition, I guess. So I snuck down after everyone went to sleep and took some. It’s just got a little bit of carpet fluff in it.”
Zinnia’s hand struck like a snake, prying Violet’s fingers off the twist of paper.
“Give it back,” Violet whined. “It’s not yours. I pay for this place, the same as y’all.”
“You’re lucky we’re not telling Miss Wellwood,” Zinnia hissed.
Violet opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Zinnia showed the cone to Fern and Holly.
“She just did it a minute ago,” Zinnia whispered. “We can still put it back.”
“We have to…” Fern babbled, trying to make her brain work because it was too late, Miss Parcae had been waiting for this moment, and her brain felt too clumsy, so she repeated, “We have to…have to…”
“We’ve got the pouches,” Zinnia whispered, touching hers, laying a hand on Fern’s. “We’ll put it back right now.”
The thought of going downstairs made Fern’s chest tight. They stared at each other. Fern took a deep breath, then she made her legs move toward the stairs.
Zinnia and Holly followed and the three of them crept down as quietly as three very pregnant girls could, grabbing each other’s shoulders when they heard the quiet click of a door, but it was just Violet going back to her room. Fern felt a pressure inside her body pushing her to gallop down the stairs and race to the front door and sprinkle the salt before it could swing open, but she forced herself to go slower, quieter, more carefully.
She dreaded getting to the bottom. She thought about getting to that last step and seeing the front door already standing wide, Miss Parcae waiting for them.
They got to the bottom. She forced herself to look.
The front door was closed.
With Zinnia and Holly by her side, she went for it, not worried about noise now. Halfway down the hall, something took hold of Fern and she stopped midstride as an invisible hand squeezed between her legs and didn’t let go. It felt like cramps but they went on longer and crept down the backs of her thighs. They wouldn’t stop and then…they did.
Fern leaned against the wall by the parlor door, panting, trying to get her breath back. Zinnia and Holly passed her, got to the front door, and Fern opened her mouth to say something, and the invisible thing took hold of her again.
It was Miss Parcae. She had her. It was black magic. It was a spell.
Her stomach squeezed and held tight this time. Fern had never felt her body moving against her will before. The cramps pushed down into her legs and across her back. Then, without warning, they let go. Fern’s muscles rippled back into place and she knew it wasn’t Miss Parcae.
It had begun.
Her due date wasn’t until Friday. She wasn’t supposed to go to the hospital yet, but it had started now and there was no way out. It was finally happening. It would have to be faced. She saw Holly and Zinnia a few feet away, shaking the paper packet along the bottom of the door and she was so glad they were doing that because her body was doing something that felt bigger than witches right now. There were no lines of salt or red pouches that could stop this.
“Miriam used more salt tonight,” Zinnia whispered.
She needed to sit down. She needed to get Nurse Kent. She needed to go to the hospital and turn this over to the doctors.
“There’s a lot left over,” Holly said, peering into the twist of paper.
Fern cramped again, deeper and more profound, suddenly aware of all her muscles. This cramp climaxed in a sharp jab that took her breath away.
Zinnia turned and saw Fern. A worry line sliced down the middle of her forehead.
“It’s happening…” Fern tried to say, but her body cut her off with a gasp.
Zinnia was at Fern’s side, holding her arm, and Fern let all her weight fall onto her. Zinnia staggered and tried to press Fern against the wall.
“Holly,” Zinnia said. “Get Nurse Kent.”
“Wait,” Holly said.
As Holly made sure the salt covered the entire width of the front door, the clock in Miss Wellwood’s office struck midnight, its chimes coming through the door behind them, muffled but distinct.
One…two…three…
four…five…six…
seven…eight…nine…
ten…eleven…twelve…
thirteen…
Zinnia and Holly locked wide eyes, but Fern didn’t hear. She was lost in the next contraction. But they all heard what happened next: the door from the kitchen opened. Its knob simply turned and its hinges squealed briefly in protest. Holly looked down into the twist of paper at all the leftover salt.
“Violet took it from everywhere,” she realized.
The twist of paper slipped from Holly’s numb fingers and dropped to the red runner. Zinnia put her mouth to Fern’s ear.
“Fern…” she whispered.
The thing gripped Fern again, and her face squeezed shut. Were they supposed to feel so sharp? Were they supposed to hurt like this? She clung to Zinnia’s arm with both hands, fingers digging in.
At the far end of the hall, Miss Parcae stepped into view and turned toward them. She wore her trim little suit jacket open over a blouse and skirt, all in powder blue. She had her shiny black purse looped over one wrist and her hair pinned back in a bun. She wore her sensible black librarian’s shoes.
She looked directly at them.
They froze. Fern made her muscles lock as best she could, feeling them squirm and twist in her grip.
Miss Parcae stared at them. They waited for her to say something.
She wants me , Fern thought, and she came when I’m weakest. When I can’t run. Her bones creaked as her muscles tightened around them. Could she yell for help? What would Miss Parcae do if Nurse Kent came downstairs?
Miss Parcae turned away and started up the stairs to the second floor. Zinnia was the first to realize what had happened. She waited until Miss Parcae was out of sight and whispered into Fern’s ear, “The pouches. She can’t see us.”
A lightning bolt shot through Fern, from between her legs all the way up her spine. She closed her eyes and let it pass.
“Nurse Kent…” she whispered.
Upstairs they heard their bedroom door open.
“Nurse Kent is upstairs,” Zinnia whispered.
They heard Miss Parcae close their bedroom door. Now she knew they weren’t in bed. Now she knew they were somewhere in the house.
“We need to hide,” Zinnia whispered in Fern’s ear, trying to lift her by one arm.
Fern couldn’t hide. She could barely move. Zinnia looked to Holly for help, but Holly was edging away from them, pressing herself to the far wall, sliding along it toward the staircase. Zinnia opened her mouth to tell her to stop when they heard Miss Parcae’s footsteps coming back down the stairs.
Invisible to witches or not, they were too exposed. Zinnia pressed her lips into the cup of Fern’s ear and whispered, “Come on.”
Fern tried to press herself up along the wall, but it hurt to stand up straight. Zinnia mustered some leverage and hauled her upright. Electricity rocketed down Fern’s legs and she clung to Zinnia’s shoulder, almost pulling her over.
Miss Parcae reached the bottom of the stairs, turned behind them, and walked into the alcove where Diane’s office was. Seconds later she came back out, opened the door to the phone cubby, and looked inside, moving casually like she had all the time in the world.
Zinnia hauled Fern into the dark doorway of the parlor. There was a love seat on the other side and a little table in between. If she could get Fern past them, maybe she could lay her down on the floor and they’d be out of sight. An axe split Fern open from the back and her legs stopped working and Zinnia had to take her weight. She barely got Fern pressed to the wall beside the parlor door.
Miss Parcae started toward them. Holly flattened herself against the wall and Miss Parcae almost brushed her bulging stomach as she passed. Then she was clear and Holly continued edging away down the hall.
Miss Parcae passed the dining room door and came toward the parlor, right at Zinnia and Fern. Holly’s shoulder brushed the corner of a picture frame and everyone heard the slight hollow scrape of gilded wood against paint.
Miss Parcae stopped.
She turned, squinting up the hall, tilting her head to one side. She didn’t move, she just listened. Fern’s stomach clenched, and a little moan started to slip from her throat. She turned her face at the last second and let it escape into Zinnia’s arm. Miss Parcae turned toward the parlor door again and started walking their way.
Holly pushed herself quietly off the wall, carefully checking that she wouldn’t jostle any more pictures, then she made her way to the staircase on tiptoes. Fern came unraveled. She needed to get outside in the fresh air. She needed to walk. She needed to move. Zinnia tightened her arms around her, belly pressed into Fern’s back, feeling Fern’s stomach muscles cramp and seize.
Miss Parcae passed their doorway, and now Zinnia couldn’t see her, but she’d be looking down at the twist of paper on the floor by the front door, knowing they had to be nearby.
Fern’s muscles clenched. She struggled against Zinnia. Holly disappeared up the stairs.
“Girls,” Miss Parcae said, standing in the dark parlor doorway right beside them.
In her arms, Zinnia felt Fern double over, push back against her, try to break free. She tightened her arms. She imagined they were steel bands locked around Fern, holding her in place.
Miss Parcae spoke into the darkness.
“You’re right,” she said to the middle of the room. “I can’t see you. But I can hear you.”
Her head tracked across the dark room, scanning it from one side to the other. The shadows brought out the skull beneath her skin. A sickroom stink, poorly concealed by lavender water, came off her in waves, all sour sweat and stomach bile.
“You don’t have to suffer, Fern,” Miss Parcae said to the empty air. “If you honor your promise I can make the pain stop.”
Fern opened her mouth. Zinnia pressed a hand over it and mashed tight.
“Do you know how badly this will hurt without my help?” Miss Parcae asked.
Behind Zinnia’s hand, Fern’s mouth worked. A little sound escaped and Miss Parcae’s head whipped around, looking right at them.
Then they heard loud footsteps on the floorboards overhead. Miss Parcae looked up. The footsteps came in a frantic rush, two sets of them, coming toward the top of the stairs. Zinnia almost cried when she heard Nurse Kent’s voice float down.
“What on earth is she doing down there?” she asked, annoyed.
Miss Parcae stepped back from the parlor door, turned, and walked down the hall, vanishing the way she’d come. Zinnia sagged with relief. The cramps seized Fern again and her legs went out from under her. She needed to be in a better position. Her body wanted to be on all fours. Holly came off the foot of the stairs, practically dragging Nurse Kent, who still had her cigarette jutting out of the corner of her mouth.
“Oh, God,” Nurse said, flipping on the parlor light. “She wasn’t due until Friday. Zinnia, give her to me. Go call the taxicab. The number’s written beside the phone.”
Fern heard Zinnia’s feet clomping down the hall, and she gave up control of her body and it carried her away. She was aware of Zinnia bringing a paper bag full of her going-home clothes, and the faces of girls on the stairs, and they took her out the door to the taxicab, and she fell down the front steps into its back seat.
Zinnia helped her in. Nurse Kent gave instructions to the cabdriver and put down newspaper underneath Fern, just in case. Fern pulled Zinnia close.
“Please…” Fern begged, not sure what she was begging her for, but it was all she could think to do anymore.
“I love you,” Zinnia said.
Then the cab door closed and Fern felt newspaper crumple beneath her and the acceleration pushed her against the seat and mashed on her belly too hard and she groaned and tried to breathe as Nurse Kent took her downtown to finally have her baby.