Chapter Thirty-Five. Rose
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ROSE
Ella rummages in Auntie’s office and comes back with a matchbook.
She and Grace move around the library, lighting half a dozen candles and placing them in crystal candlestick holders, as the wind moans outside.
I watch Coop out of the corner of my eye.
His brow is furrowed, his full mouth turned down. He must feel so angry and betrayed.
And he still doesn’t know the whole of it.
Ella takes the spirit board out of the box.
It’s a thin wooden rectangle with black markings.
The word YES sits at the top left, next to a full moon.
The word NO sits at the top right, next to a crescent moon and a small star.
In between stretches a banner: OUJIA: REGISTERED TRADEMARK.
Then the alphabet is spelled out in two rows, and numbers one through zero beneath it.
In each bottom corner, there’s a star inside a circle, with the ominous words GOOD BYE between them.
There’s also a three-cornered wooden doodad printed with the word OUIJA and the information of the William Fuld company.
I’m not easily spooked, but this thing gives me the heebies.
“Did Magnolia say how it’s supposed to work?” Grace asks.
Ella is pleased to be in the know. “First we establish a circle. Maggie and I used salt, but with four of us, we can form a circle ourselves.”
She shoves aside the coffee table and sits cross-legged on the Oriental carpet.
I plop down next to her, glad I wore trousers today.
Coop sits on my other side, more than an arm’s length away.
I might as well be a leper. Grace is across from me, ladylike in her mint-green dress, her knees tucked to one side.
Ella places the spirit board in the middle. “Now we each put two fingers on the planchette. But don’t push it. The spirit will move it.”
Following her example, I place my fingers on the three-cornered doodad.
“Are we ready?” Ella glances around the circle. We all nod, but Coop’s brown eyes are skeptical behind his specs.
“We summon the spirit of Daisy Wheeler. We want to speak with you, Daisy. We want to know what has disturbed your eternal rest.” Ella enunciates every word carefully, as though she’s announcing her name and musical selection to a crowded recital hall.
We stare at one another.
“Let’s try a simpler question,” I suggest. “Daisy, are you here?”
I wait for the planchette to swing across the board of its own volition.
Nothing happens.
Coop is the first to pull his hand away. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s not,” Ella says, affronted. “Of course it won’t work if you don’t believe!”
“It’s no more ridiculous than the ghost turning up in my teaspoon,” I point out.
“Or the toaster.” Grace scowls. “She’s always turning up like a bad penny. Now that we actually want her, she’s nowhere to be found. She’s probably off haunting poor Maggie.”
“Let’s try again,” Ella says.
We put our fingers back on the planchette. I take a deep breath. Listen to the grumble of thunder. The candles flicker. Is it the howling wind, or something more?
“Daisy! Daisy, we summon you!” Ella cries.
“Tell us what you need,” Grace says. “Tell us how to help you.”
Nothing happens.
“Maybe we should start with something easier. Yes or no questions,” I suggest.
Ella nods. “Daisy, are you here?”
This time, the planchette inches across the board until it nudges YES.
Coop yanks his hand into his lap. “Okay, which one of you pushed it?”
“Coop!” Ella wails. “It was finally working! Don’t scare her off!”
Grace swats him. “Put your hand back.”
Reluctantly, he places two fingers on the planchette.
“Your name is Daisy, isn’t it?” Grace asks. “Daisy Wheeler?”
The planchette gives a sharp jerk over the word YES. A confirmation. Grace and I look at each other with wide eyes. I knew it!
“Everyone thinks you ran away, but you didn’t, did you,” Grace says. “Did you die here? At the Harrow Home?”
The planchette gives another sharp jerk. YES.
Goose bumps rise over my arms. Ella glances at me, clearly spooked.
“Did you die in childbirth?” Grace asks.
The planchette zips across the board to the right. NO.
Grace takes a deep breath. “Did you die of—natural causes?”
NO.
Grace sets her jaw, her expression flinty. “Were you murdered?”
The planchette sweeps across the board. YES.
Ella snatches her trembling hand from the planchette and presses it to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“Ella,” Grace chides. “Can you do this or not?”
Ella nods nervously, gathers her courage, and puts her fingers back on the planchette.
“Tell us who killed you,” Grace says.
The planchette doesn’t move.
“Who killed you?” Grace is almost shouting.
The planchette inches forward. I hold my breath as it approaches the J. The O.
“Was it—” Ella gulps.
“Did Joe Harrow kill you?” Grace is steely.
YES.
“Holy shit,” Grace says, with a look of stunned vindication. “He did it.”
I glance at Coop. His face is blank. Then he grabs the planchette and hurls it across the room. It clatters off a bookshelf. I start at the sudden violence of it. Across the circle, Grace flinches.
“This is bull.” Coop scrambles to his feet. “Dad’s not—look, he’s not a good guy. He has a temper. We all know that. But he’s not a murderer!”
You sure about that?
“It doesn’t make sense,” he says. “The Harrow Home meant everything to him. It wasn’t just his livelihood, it was his legacy. And he had newborn twins. He wouldn’t be rash enough to murder a teenaged girl and bury her on the property. If he was caught—”
There’d be repercussions for that. If it was a girl like me.
Not if she was a nobody. A girl he thought no one would ever miss.
Outside, the thunder is receding. The rain is slowing. Is the worst over?
Grace stands. “You always want to think the best of people. You have such a big heart, Cooper. That’s a strength, not a weakness. I know you don’t want to believe Dad’s capable of this. But you’ve got to face facts. He killed that girl. He’s a murderer.”
“He’s evil,” I drawl, clambering to my feet. “That man is pure evil.”
All the candles in the room go out, like a giant blowing out his birthday candles. There’s only the flickering orange light from the fire.
Ella reaches toward me. “Rosie?” Her voice is shrill. Scared. She looks at Grace. “Why does she sound like that?”
Why does she seem so afraid?
“Because that’s not Rosie,” Grace whispers.
I walk toward the boy, squinting at him.
“He killed me. Drug me outside an’ shot me like I was a rabid dog an’ he was puttin’ me out of my misery.
” I pat the spot, four inches below my breastbone.
“But he warn’t. ’Cause I didn’t die quick.
I screamed and screamed, an’ nobody came.
He just sat there an’ watched. Didn’t lift a finger to ease my sufferin’.
He wrapped me in old blankets an’ buried me in the dirt.
No prayers or nothin’. You’d do more for a dog. ”
“Why?” Grace asks. “Why would he do that?”
“’Cause I was gonna run off. And I was gonna take Em with me. He said I was a pervert. But it warn’t like that. I loved Em like a sister.”
Is that how Em felt, too? Or was she in love with you?
Ella is cowering against the davenport. “All right, now we know. Let Rose go.”
I’m right here. I’m still here, Ella!
“No, wait,” Grace says. “What do you need, Daisy?”
What do I need?
“Revenge. I want to see that man bleed. I want him to call for help an’ know nobody’s comin’. I want to see him in the ground an’—”
“Stop it!” The boy grabs my arm and shakes me. “Rose! Rose, come back!”
Maybe there’s more of his father in him than I thought.
I push him. Hard, two-handed. He trips over the coffee table. His glasses fall to the floor.
Should’ve pushed him harder. Maybe a broken leg would teach him some manners.
“Put your hands on me again an’ you’ll regret it,” I growl.
“Don’t touch her,” Grace warns.
Smart girl.
“Grace, please!” Ella whines.
Crybaby. I thought she was stronger.
“Where are you? Did the construction disturb your rest?” Grace asks.
“I can’t rest. Not while he’s breathin’.”
“But something disturbed you.” Bullheaded, that one. “I started seeing you right after the construction began. Where did he take you? Was it down by the water?”
She’s strong. She’ll be the one to do it, when the time comes. Grace.
“Under the larkspur,” I say. “I can hear the bees and the hummin’birds.”
“That’s enough!” Ella stalks over to me, glaring. “Get out of my sister’s head. Now.”
Guess she’s got some iron in her after all.
“Wait! One more question. I’ll be quick!” Grace glances at the boy, worried-like. “Are you our birth mother?”
The boy whirls, and I tense, but he’s only gawping at her. “Why would you ask that? Grace, why in the hell would you ask her that?”
I called my boy Charles. Charlie. He had dark hair and dark eyes and a sweet little nose. He was beautiful. That monster took him from me.
“No,” I say, but my voice is threadbare as an old rug.
Rose is fighting back. She can feel me in her head this time.
Let me go. Please. We’ll help you. We’ll get justice for you.
Justice? It’s not justice I want.
“Rose. Rosie!”
Ella has both hands on my shoulders. She’s shaking me.
“What are you doing? Stop that,” I say irritably. Coop and Grace are standing behind her, all three of them peering down at me.
My limbs feel wobbly and strange. The library is lit only by the gray gleam from the cracked windows and the glowing ashes in the grate. When did the candles go out? When did the fire burn down? I sit heavily on the sofa, the room spinning around me.
My head aches like I’ve been bludgeoned. My mind feels foggy. We lit candles. We were all sitting on the floor for some reason. What were we doing?
Behind them, on the carpet, I spot Magnolia’s spirit board.
It comes back to me in a rush. We were trying to contact her.
Daisy.
“Should we get her a glass of water? Or some scotch?” Coop’s brow is furrowed. He isn’t wearing his specs. His face seems more open, younger.
“No, just give her a minute,” Ella says. “You believe us now, huh?”
“About the ghost? Yeah.” Coop turns to his sister. “Why did you ask her that?”
Grace sighs. “Because our eyes are brown, Cooper. And there’s something fishy about that summer. Dad didn’t admit any new girls from May to August, and—”
“Because Ma was expecting!” Coop says.
“He fired the whole staff, except Birdie. She said she couldn’t remember delivering us, but she warned Rose not to cross Dad.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re adopted!” Coop protests.
“Maybe. Maybe not. We can argue about it later, okay? Right now, we need a shovel. There’s one in the gardening shed.” Grace pulls her long hair back into a ponytail. “We’ve got to go. We’re in the eye of the storm, but I don’t know how long it’s gonna last.”
“What do we need a shovel for?” Coop asks, aghast.
I gasp. Daisy. Daisy was in my head. In my body.
Ella pats my arm comfortingly. “It’s awful, isn’t it.”
I touch my face, my chest, my knees, making sure I’m here. That I’m me again. How long was I gone? Three minutes? Five? Ten? I could feel Daisy controlling my body. Speaking out of my mouth. Pushing Cooper with my hands!
His glasses! “Did I hurt you?”
He holds them out. One of the thick black arms has snapped and hangs crookedly. “Nothing some tape won’t fix.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” But I’m also relieved. I could have really hurt him.
She could have hurt him. But I would have felt responsible, because she used me to do it.
“I’m sorry, Rose, that sounds very uncomfortable,” Grace says. “But we were right. Dad killed her. He shot Daisy in cold blood. And I think I know where he buried her. Hurry up and get your shoes and a raincoat. Dad will come for us the second that baby is born.”
I stare at her in disbelief. Uncomfortable? This went beyond discomfort.
“Grace, please tell me you don’t want to dig up that girl’s body,” Coop says.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” She’s matter-of-fact.
“Let’s wait till after the storm and call the sheriff,” Coop begs. Exasperated, he rubs a hand over the freckled nape of his neck.
“It could be days before the telephone lines are back up. And what would you tell him? Sheriff Callaway, a ghost told us that our dad shot a girl and buried her under the larkspur. Would you mind digging up Ma’s flowers in case they’re hiding a body that you missed when you were out here searching for Aunt Em?
” Grace scowls, and then her face goes funny.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing. Nothing,” she lies. “I’ll do it myself if I have to, but I would like you to come with me, Cooper. I don’t know how deep Dad buried her. And the dirt is going to be wet, and heavy.”
Coop sighs, but he’s going with Grace and we all know it. He would never let his sister do this alone. Besides, I think part of him needs to see for himself. To know this is a mistake, or to have the terrible proof.
“Maybe you should stay here. You don’t look very good,” he says to me.
“Gee, thanks.” I stand, still shaky. “I need to see this through.”
“I’ll stay,” Ella volunteers. “You know. In case Lou wakes up.”
She seems relieved, and frankly I’m grateful she can save face by staying with Lou. She’s been through enough.
“If any of the adults come back, don’t let on where we went,” Grace says.
“I’ll do my best. I’m a pretty good liar now.” Ella gives a hollow laugh and hugs me tight. “Be careful, Rosie. Please.”
“I’ll be right back, safe and sound. Promise.”
I hope our grim errand won’t make a liar out of me.