Authors: Sandy DeLuca
Darkness Conjured (8 page)
“I thought I could help you hide from them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t mind me. I’m just a tired old waitress.”
She left me there. Tears streaming down her face as she moved away. Was there
more to Lizzy than what people saw? And did she know more about Ken than she
let on?
more to Lizzy than what people saw? And did she know more about Ken than she
let on?
* * *
Once settled in a hospital room I reached for the phone by my bed and dialed my
house.
house.
My mother answered. She sounded weary.
My heart pounded. I spoke quickly. I knew if I hesitated I might not say what I
needed to. “Ma, I won’t be coming home for a few days. I’m in the hospital. I’m bleeding. I’m pregnant and ...”
needed to. “Ma, I won’t be coming home for a few days. I’m in the hospital. I’m bleeding. I’m pregnant and ...”
“I know, Meg. My God, I know.” she said softly.
“How?”
“I always knew. You bleeding because you’re losing it?” Her voice was tinged with ice, very odd as my mother was normally warm and
loving.
loving.
“No, it’s a polyp or something. They need to take it out.”
Now she spoke to my father. “I was right. She’s pregnant.”
I heard my father saying something unintelligible. I heard things crashing and
banging in the background.
banging in the background.
“Your father is slamming furniture. Punching walls. What hospital?” Her tone remained icy.
They were there within the hour.
My father grimaced when a nurse set milk and cookies on a tray before me. He
waited until she left and then told me in his matter of fact way. “You give it up. Ain’t no way you’re going to raise a kid.”
waited until she left and then told me in his matter of fact way. “You give it up. Ain’t no way you’re going to raise a kid.”
“Who’s the father?” asked my mother.
“A trucker. He went to ’Nam. I can’t get in touch with him.” I lied about the ’Nam part.
“Why did God do this? I can’t deal with the shame.” My mother wrung her hands.
My father turned to her and spoke gruffly. “Anne, keep your cool for the sake of your health. You know what’s happening. It wasn’t God that did this. Now it’s best we make plans.” He touched my cheek. “I’m sorry. I should have paid more attention.” He rose from his chair and went to the window.
My mother sat there, head bowed, mouthing something about the neighbors and the
dishonor I’d caused the family.
dishonor I’d caused the family.
My father spoke slowly, deliberately as he stared into night’s landscape. “He’s out there somewhere in the dark, moving along just like nothing happened, like
he hasn’t caused any hurt.”
he hasn’t caused any hurt.”
“You shut up. Don’t try to blame this on superstition. On things we did a long time ago.” My mother snapped at him.
My father turned. Tears streaked his face. “In the beginning I thought those
things
would help my family, but he’s a damn trickster.”
things
would help my family, but he’s a damn trickster.”
“You’re upset, Barry,” my mother told him in a robotic voice.
“Let’s go,” he said as he whisked by my bed. “We’ll be back when it’s light.”
My mother rose and followed him, head bent, tears spattering on the worn tile
floor.
floor.
Alone in the dimly lit room I thought about things my father prayed to when I
was a child and about the handshake he’d once made in the dark.
was a child and about the handshake he’d once made in the dark.
I drifted to sleep. Dreams of Ken driving in darkness emerged. Screams echoed
from the trailer. Blackbirds circled above him.
from the trailer. Blackbirds circled above him.
My father’s voice erupted through the eerie sounds of night,
“... he’s a damn trickster.”
“... he’s a damn trickster.”
* * *
The operation was short and painless. The growth was a benign polyp.
My parents ushered me out of the hospital two days later.
My father had everything planned right down to the last detail. He even went to
the diner and talked to Luke about giving me a leave of absence. “Got to keep your job secure. Lord knows how long it’ll take you to find something else once this is over.”
the diner and talked to Luke about giving me a leave of absence. “Got to keep your job secure. Lord knows how long it’ll take you to find something else once this is over.”
I was taken off the diner’s schedule until June. I wondered if the other waitresses, the cooks and
customers whispered about me in hushed tones.
customers whispered about me in hushed tones.
Beth went on a ski trip to Canada for Christmas. Jen and her family drove up to
Buffalo to celebrate with Jack’s parents. Dad would have normally argued with my sisters, insisted they
belonged here with us, but he just wished them well. Then he told my mother it
was best we didn’t celebrate Christmas at all.
Buffalo to celebrate with Jack’s parents. Dad would have normally argued with my sisters, insisted they
belonged here with us, but he just wished them well. Then he told my mother it
was best we didn’t celebrate Christmas at all.
He arranged for my stay at the Amelia Leech Home. I heard him talking soft and
low on the phone to someone there. His hands shook after he hung up and I swear
he looked as though something scared the hell out of him. He didn’t speak much until we arrived on a cold day when snow and sleet came down in
torrents.
low on the phone to someone there. His hands shook after he hung up and I swear
he looked as though something scared the hell out of him. He didn’t speak much until we arrived on a cold day when snow and sleet came down in
torrents.
I felt the darkness as soon as I stepped inside.
We were ushered into Marsha Walker’s office. She didn’t smile. She motioned for us to take seats in front of her desk. Always the
stoic one; dark hair in an upswept, dark suit. Heavy pancake makeup. The shades
were drawn. Her desk was empty but for a photograph of a little girl. I guessed
it was her daughter. The child had expressionless eyes and limp blonde hair
hung past her shoulders.
stoic one; dark hair in an upswept, dark suit. Heavy pancake makeup. The shades
were drawn. Her desk was empty but for a photograph of a little girl. I guessed
it was her daughter. The child had expressionless eyes and limp blonde hair
hung past her shoulders.
“Your room will be on the second floor. House rules are you’re present at specified mealtimes. Curfew is before sundown or we send people
looking for you.”
looking for you.”
I imagined a squad of zombies searching the streets for wayward girls. Marsha in
the lead, holding a butcher knife in one hand and a chainsaw in the other.
the lead, holding a butcher knife in one hand and a chainsaw in the other.
She looked at me. There was no hint of compassion in her eyes. “You’re legal age, Meg. We’d probably let it go.”
“She won’t be leaving unless I pick her up. Those are my rules,” my father said.
“You might think she murdered someone, Mr. Fiano.”
“If she had we might all be better off,” he snapped back.
“Well, she’s over eighteen. Neither you or I can stop her from taking a walk to the corner
drugstore, or going to the cathedral down the street. She even has the right to
leave if she doesn’t want to stay.”
drugstore, or going to the cathedral down the street. She even has the right to
leave if she doesn’t want to stay.”
“She
can’t
leave and you know it,” my father said absently, his eyes filling with tears.
can’t
leave and you know it,” my father said absently, his eyes filling with tears.
Marsha nodded at him and then looked my way. “I’d like to show you your room, Meg. Mr. Fiano males aren’t allowed past the first floor. Can you wait here?”
My father folded his arms. “Fine. Let’s get her settled quick.”
Marsha rose from her desk. “Come along then.”
She waited for me to join her at the door. She took my elbow, led me into the
hall and then leaned over to shut her office door. She didn’t say a word as we moved up the stairs.
hall and then leaned over to shut her office door. She didn’t say a word as we moved up the stairs.
She took me to the first floor landing and then gently pushed me out of view. “I had to get you alone. Now, we’ll take care of everything. Your father doesn’t understand the way things work.”
“I know. It’s always been that way.”
“Well, he’s got a lot to learn.” Her makeup cracked a bit when she smiled for the first time.
“It’s best I stay. I’m not ready to battle him now. I’m tired. I need to think is all.” I patted my stomach.
She nodded. “The battle will come later.” Her voice was ominous.
Marsha’s words were odd, but the world had become insane and I needed time.
I allowed Marsha to lead me back down the stairs. I thought I saw dark things
out of the corner of my eye and weeping when we passed photos hanging on the
walls. Young girls. Pale with empty dark eyes.
out of the corner of my eye and weeping when we passed photos hanging on the
walls. Young girls. Pale with empty dark eyes.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“Amelia Leech’s request they be hung, never taken down. No one asked Amelia questions.” She turned to look at me. “Money. Rather eccentric.”
I stared into the eyes of a girl a little younger than myself. She held a white
lily as though she held a child. A tiny tear had formed in her right eye when
the photographer snapped the photo. A sense of loss and mourning filled me.
lily as though she held a child. A tiny tear had formed in her right eye when
the photographer snapped the photo. A sense of loss and mourning filled me.
Marsha turned and continued her downward climb. The storm grew more intense. The
house grew darker and seemed to swallow me with its sadness.
house grew darker and seemed to swallow me with its sadness.
* * *
Adhering to a rotating schedule, Maureen Dugan drives me, and others, to a women’s clinic on the East Side for prenatal care. We don’t share a waiting area with married patients. We are seated in the basement. The
place has a medicinal smell. It’s clean and well kept, but there’s an icy, uncaring essence about it.
place has a medicinal smell. It’s clean and well kept, but there’s an icy, uncaring essence about it.
This morning I wait my turn to be examined. Marcy Long sits across me, arms
folded and legs crossed. Maureen Dugan sits close by her side. Gone is the
defiant look in Marcy’s eyes. Her long black hair is dull and greasy. Her face is pale.
folded and legs crossed. Maureen Dugan sits close by her side. Gone is the
defiant look in Marcy’s eyes. Her long black hair is dull and greasy. Her face is pale.
Lacey Wright and Linda Sinelli are already in examination rooms. Nurses stand in
doorways, sneak glances my way and they whisper. I shrug it off. To hell with
them. Life is a journey of mistakes. Some of them more tragic than others.
doorways, sneak glances my way and they whisper. I shrug it off. To hell with
them. Life is a journey of mistakes. Some of them more tragic than others.
I pick up a magazine from a wobbly wooden table. I thumb through pages, gazing
at pretty clothes I can’t wear, let alone afford. There are articles on upcoming art shows. In photos,
artists stand by large abstract canvases.
at pretty clothes I can’t wear, let alone afford. There are articles on upcoming art shows. In photos,
artists stand by large abstract canvases.
I sigh and turn the page. There is a layout about New Orleans, the Mardi Gras
coming up in March and a list of available hotels with descriptions and prices.
I flip a page. Here’s photo of one of the historical graveyards. There’s an article, too. It explains:
The above-ground tombs in the cemeteries of New Orleans are called cities of the
dead. Enter the moss covered gates and you will be greeted by decorative, rusty
ironwork, and sun-bleached tombs. Crosses and statues on tomb tops are old and
cracked, yet they retain mysterious and eerie beauty.
coming up in March and a list of available hotels with descriptions and prices.
I flip a page. Here’s photo of one of the historical graveyards. There’s an article, too. It explains:
The above-ground tombs in the cemeteries of New Orleans are called cities of the
dead. Enter the moss covered gates and you will be greeted by decorative, rusty
ironwork, and sun-bleached tombs. Crosses and statues on tomb tops are old and
cracked, yet they retain mysterious and eerie beauty.
There’s more photos of random tombs. One where a politician is buried, another a jazz
singer who died of a drug overdose and the last is a large marble tomb emblazed
with the words
Magic Man of the Garden District
. There are coins, votive candles and flowers on the tomb. I look closer at
words carved into the moss covered stone.
singer who died of a drug overdose and the last is a large marble tomb emblazed
with the words
Magic Man of the Garden District
. There are coins, votive candles and flowers on the tomb. I look closer at
words carved into the moss covered stone.
Kenneth Rogers Aster, Born 1901 Died 1930.
I think it might one of Ken’s relatives. His father? It’s a common name. Isn’t it?
I read the caption beneath the photograph.
Kenneth Rogers Aster was a carpenter who made sturdy furniture and hauled his
wares cross country to merchants. He worked with local dressmakers to
distribute their clothing. Aster was said to practice dark magic. He was linked
to the disappearances of several children throughout the country. Scant
evidence and iron clad alibis worked in Aster’s favor. Suspicion mounted, but he was never convicted. Some said he hauled the
bodies of his victims to the underworld.
wares cross country to merchants. He worked with local dressmakers to
distribute their clothing. Aster was said to practice dark magic. He was linked
to the disappearances of several children throughout the country. Scant
evidence and iron clad alibis worked in Aster’s favor. Suspicion mounted, but he was never convicted. Some said he hauled the
bodies of his victims to the underworld.
Aster was murdered in 1930. Killer unknown. Body cut and bleeding inside his
trailer.
trailer.
“What are you reading?” Maureen Dugan is standing over me, hands on hips. Marcy is next to her.
“About New Orleans. I’d like to go there.”
She smirks. “Sure. Come on. Doctor is waiting.”
“He’s coming to get our babies.” Marcy’s voice is soft. She’s got a faraway look in her eyes.
“Don’t be taunting other girls. Stay in your seat until they’re ready for you,” Maureen snaps at her.
I watch Marcy move slowly back to her seat. So docile. I guess they’re still giving her sedatives.
Now I follow Maureen to a small examination room where I’m told to strip from the waist down and then lay on an examination table.
I do as I’m told and close my eyes. A vision of Ken lifting bloody bundles fills my head.
He stops for a moment, looks my way and smiles slowly.
He stops for a moment, looks my way and smiles slowly.
“Coming back for you. Won’t be long.”
I hear a metallic sound and a man clears his throat. “Everything is normal,” says a young doctor as he tosses metal clamps on the table.
I shiver when he smiles the same way Ken did in my vision.
* * *
The first night I spent at Amelia Leech’s I dreamed of the girl with the teardrop in her eye. I sat on the stairs. The
storm sounded outside and someone—a woman—was chanting, or singing in another room. The photographs lining the stairs were
as large as life; like massive works of art hanging in modern galleries.
storm sounded outside and someone—a woman—was chanting, or singing in another room. The photographs lining the stairs were
as large as life; like massive works of art hanging in modern galleries.
I heard a sigh and turned to see the weeping girl lean forward, toss her hair
and then climb over the photo’s frame. She clutched her lily. Now dead, brown and smelling fowl.
and then climb over the photo’s frame. She clutched her lily. Now dead, brown and smelling fowl.
She wept as I approached her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“They wouldn’t let me see my baby. Her father came. Took her away in his old truck. Tucked
her in between furniture and clothes.”
her in between furniture and clothes.”
“Who is her father?”
“
The Magic Man
. He wants me to make another like her. He’s coming back. Even though he died it doesn’t stop him. It never stops.”
The Magic Man
. He wants me to make another like her. He’s coming back. Even though he died it doesn’t stop him. It never stops.”
“What?”
Suddenly she was gone. The sound of chanting intensified and the sound of
beating drums filled my head.
beating drums filled my head.
The girl’s words rung in my ears when I awoke.
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