Blood and Bone: A Smattering of Unease (9 page)

And she had to force herself to remember that she was no longer in the leaf pile, staring at the sky . . . and then staring into darkness as the leaf pile grew on top of her and the snows obliterated her from sight. That would cheer her a little . . . but only a little, even though she would give her thanks to God, because at least she had been found, so her chances of being saved had increased exponentially. And then she would pray.

“Mommy! Mommy! Darce!” The back door slammed and Becky ran into the kitchen, breathless and dirty, her curls tangled from the autumn wind.

Carol sighed impatiently and turned from the stove, where she was stirring the spaghetti sauce for that night’s dinner. “Rebecca, how many times have I told you to please not slam the door?”

“But Mommy!” The girl held out her hands. Cupped in her palms was a large maple leaf, upon which lay a small mouse.

Carol bent and examined it closely. Its body was badly damaged, and it was trembling, its little black eyes looking frightened. “What happened to it?” she asked.

“There was a cat, the cat was throwing it up in the air and playing with it, and when the cat saw me it ran away, and I saw the mouse, and – can we save it?” Tears welled in Becky’s eyes.

The mouse’s hindquarters and back legs were barely recognizable; the thing was a bloody mess. It was obviously in shock.

“Becky, I don’t think we can help this mouse, I’m sorry. But it may be able to help us. Here,” she said, taking the leaf and the mouse from Becky. “You grab Darce. Take her straight to the attic and set her down inside the circle. Hurry!”

She quickly turned the burners off and ran behind Becky up the stairs. Under her breath, she chanted, “Please have a soul, please have a soul, please have a soul!” Because she really didn’t know if any creatures other than humans had souls.

Once both Darce and the mouse were placed, side by side, within the circle, Carol sent Becky downstairs to watch cartoons.

“But Mommy, I want to see—”

“No, Becky,” Carol said firmly. “This could be dangerous. I don’t want anyone extra here for this, because things might get mixed up. We should know soon.”

“Okay.” Becky hung her head, and exited the room.

Carol lit the candles.

She had memorized the passages she needed; she made offerings of earth and water, made her request, then went silent for a moment as she visualized the outcome, focusing her energy and will.

Darce, inside the circle, focused, as well, putting all of her spirit, thoughts, and heart into her request.

Carol spoke the three words.

“In and out.”

“In and out.”

“In and out!”

She felt tension build inside of her, and a kind of . . .
energy
, surging simultaneously up from her feet and down through the crown of her head, meeting at her heart

A sudden clap of thunder made her jump. The sky seized that moment to split open and start dumping torrents of rain down onto the roof. Lightning flashed. The lights went out.

“So mote it be.” She broke the salt circle with her toe. She felt the release of the tension that had built up within her body as it dispersed into the air. She took a deep breath.

Before her eyes, the doll faded away. In its place lay a woman in a blue satin dress.

Carol stared, shocked. “Oh my God,” she said. “Oh, my God!” She had thought that she believed the story – the photos, the names of the vanished mother and daughter, the things Becky had told her as relayed from Darce, the doll. But now, staring at the woman who lay on her back on the attic floorboards – it suddenly struck her that the fairytale was
real
.

The sound of Becky’s voice brought her to awareness. “Mommy! The lights and the TV turned off! I’m sc—Darce? Darce! It worked, it worked!”

“Becky, wait—“

Becky ran into the circle and flung herself to the floor beside Darce, throwing her arms around her.

The mouse lay beside them on its maple leaf.

The rain abruptly stopped, and the lights came on.

Darce became conscious of the hard floorboards beneath her shoulder blades, and a small, warm body on top of her. It was Becky, and she was sobbing.

“It worked, Darce, it worked!”

Darce gasped, inhaling the first breath she had taken in over two years. An involuntary shudder went through her body, and she started to cry. Becky and Carol were already shedding tears of joy.

“Becky, honey, please get up off her and give her some space,” Carol admonished her daughter gently.

“I’m sorry, Darce,” Becky said, sitting back on her heels and wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hand.

“Don’t be sorry . . .” Darce tried to say, but her throat was dry, her vocal cords contracted from disuse.

“Oh gosh,” Carol said. “Becky, please go get Darce a glass of water and a pillow, would you?”

Becky jumped up and ran downstairs, eager to do something to help.

Carol knelt down behind Darce and lifted her head and shoulders onto her lap, to provide a softer place for her head and an incline, to help her breathe a little better.

Darce tried to help her by sitting up on her own, but found that she couldn’t. She rasped, “Oh my God, what’s wrong with me?”

“It’s okay, Darce,” Carol said. “You haven’t had to move your body in two years. Maybe it will take some time to move normally again.”

“I hope so,” Darce whispered. It would be so tragically ironic to have gone through this entire ordeal just to make it out and find that her body would remain paralyzed. “Feel numb,” she forced out.

Becky entered the room with two pillows and a glass of ice water. She helped her mother place the pillows beneath Darce’s head and shoulders, and then held the glass to Darce’s lips. A little bit of it dribbled down from the corner of her mouth.

But it was so cold, so refreshing! The sensation of the ice water in upon her tongue was heavenly. She found that she could lift her head slightly to drink a little more.

Carol had started massaging Darce’s hands and arms. “Maybe it will help if we try to jump-start your circulation,” she said.

When Darce let her head fall back onto the pillows, Becky set the glass down and helped rub Darce’s legs and feet.

Soon, Darce started to feel pins and needles throughout her limbs. “I’m finally waking up,” she whispered. “Pull me up, please,”

Becky grabbed Darce’s hands and pulled while Carol pushed Darce’s back from behind. Together, they maneuvered her into a sitting position.

Anticipating what Darce needed next, Becky held the glass up to Darce’s lips again. She was able to drink more this time.

“As soon as you’re ready, we’re going to get you downstairs and into a comfortable bed,” Carol said. “You’ve been through a horrible ordeal, and you’re going to need to rest and recuperate.”

Darce let out a small laugh. Her voice was a little stronger when she said, “Rest? That’s all I’ve been doing!”

In a few minutes, the pins and needles really tingled throughout her entire body. It was excruciating, and all she could do was lay there, moaning, while tears streamed down her face.

Carol had covered Darce with a blanket and wiped her face with a damp washcloth, trying to help comfort her as best she could.

It was about an hour before Darce quieted as the tingling faded away. She was able to assist a little as Becky and Carol half carried, half pulled her down the attic steps to the second floor. The narrowness of the stairwell helped; they were able to brace themselves against the narrow walls to stay balanced.

They managed to lay Darce on the guest bed and propped some pillows behind her back. Becky left the water glass on the bedside table, and Darce found she was able to move her arms enough to pick it up and drink.

Eventually, as true awareness set in, Darce began sobbing.

Carol, sitting on the bed beside her, asked gently, “Is there anything more that I can do for you right now?”

Darce shook her head, “No.”

“I’m going to give you some space and go finish dinner for me and Becky, okay?”

Darce nodded.

“We’re right downstairs if you need us.”

Alone, Darce’s body shook with uncontrollable sobs as she released two years’ worth of pent-up anguish, fear, and grief. She grieved for Chelsea.

How would she ever find her daughter?

After she had wept out all of the poison, she felt calm. She didn’t seriously think that she could sleep after being trapped in that
thing
for the past two years, but she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She woke the next morning to a tapping sound. The door opened Becky poked her head inside. “Good morning, Darce! How are you doing?”

“Okay,” Darce responded, even though she really didn’t know how she was doing.

“Mommy sent me to bring you some clothes, she said you guys are pretty close in size, so they should fit okay. And she said you should go ahead and have a shower, that it will make you feel like a
million
bucks!”

Darce smiled at the little girl and accepted the small pile of clothing. They smelled clean, like fabric softener.

“I can’t believe I have to get used to smelling things again,” she said.

Becky smiled. “Mommy’s making breakfast and coffee. See you soon!” She skipped out of the room.

Other smells had drifted up the stairs, in through the open door. Darce breathed deeply. Oh God,
bacon!
And . . .
coffee!

Darce felt her stomach rumble. She was so
hungry
. She tried to swing her legs over the edge of the bed and found that she could move them much more easily than the night before. Walking was still difficult; her legs hadn’t quite gained their memory back, and she stumbled to the bathroom, using the hallway wall for support.

Feeling much refreshed after her shower, she groped her way downstairs, glad for the railing.

In the kitchen, Carol smiled at her and indicated the plate and cup of coffee on the table. Darce practically fell into the chair that had been pulled out for her.

“Thank you so much, both of you,” she said. “I am so indebted to you . . . you saved my life.”

Carol reached out and squeezed Darce’s hand. “No, I want to thank
you.
Because you’ve helped save mine.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Since my husband died, I’ve just been floating through life like
I
was the ghost. I’ve barely acknowledged that Becky lost her dad; all I’ve been thinking about was my own loss. I thought my life was over. But you’ve made me realize that I still have
so
much left to appreciate, and that the rest of it could disappear like
that.
” She snapped her fingers. “Besides,” she continued, “I’m sure you would have done the same for me. When faced with a difficult situation, what is one to do except rise to the occasion? I feel so horrible for you. I can’t imagine being trapped in that thing for two years. I can’t believe you’re still sane!”

“I’m not so sure that I
am
sane,” Darce replied. And then, feeling shamed, she said, “Jane spent nearly a hundred and fifty years inside it, but I never offered her a kind or generous thought.”

“But she was evil! She did horrible things to you and your daughter! I can’t imagine anything like that happening to my child.”

Darce stared into her coffee.

“I’m so sorry, Darce,” Carol said. “I know it’s painful, but we need to talk about it. For your sake . . . and your daughter’s.”

Darce had thought she’d run out of tears the night before, but she felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks, nonetheless.

“I know. I just don’t know what to
do
. I might have some money, if the bank hasn’t closed my account. But . . . no job. No idea where to begin to look for Chelsea. No place to live . . .” she shook her head.

“Darce . . . Becky and I would really like it if you stayed here, with us. This would still be your home if this nightmare hadn’t happened to you. You’re going to need to start over. We want to help you.”

Becky, who had been sitting quietly, chimed in. “Yeah, Darce! And then when we find Chelsea, she can live here, too, and we can be like sisters and play together! Say you’ll stay, Darce, say you’ll stay!”

“If you’re sure—”

“We’ve never been so sure of anything.”

Darce let out a breath of relief. “Thank you so, so much!”

“And,” Carol said, with a small smile, “When we find Chelsea, guess who else we’ll find? Your wicked witch.”

Darce looked at her for a moment. “Jane,” she said.

Carol held out her cup. “Cheers!”

They clinked their cups together and drank.

“Um . . . Mommy?” Chelsea held up a shoebox that she’d been holding on her lap.

“Oh, right!” Carol set her cup down. “We are going to give our mouse savior a proper burial.”