The Old Willis Place (8 page)

Now I'm going to sleep, dear Dee Dee, and so are you. Good night!

Love, Lissa—
I'll tell you all about the house tomorrow night!

Chapter 10

When I woke, Georgie was gone and so was Nero. I went to the door to see if either was nearby. It was a dull gray day, the sort that tempts you to sleep the morning away. Thick, heavy clouds threatened rain. Leaves blown by a cold autumn wind sailed across the sky, baring trees in the woods. Three deer grazed in the field, a doe and two fawns. Though I made no sound, the mother turned her head toward me. Silently passing a warning to her fawns, she led them into the woods. Of my brother and the cat I saw no sign.

Without Georgie, there was nothing to do but read
Clematis
again. I turned the pages slowly to make the story last, but my thoughts kept straying to my brother. Where was he? Why didn't he come back? He'd been mad at me before, but he'd never stayed away this long.

What if he'd found a place to hide from me? Suppose he refused to forgive me? Suppose he didn't return?

No. That was ridiculous. Georgie couldn't live without me any more than I could live without him. We'd been together too long, bound by secrets we could never share with anyone else. Not even Lissa. Especially not Lissa.

He'd come back soon. At any moment, I'd hear him running through the fallen leaves, calling my name. He wouldn't be mad. He wouldn't care about Lissa. Maybe he'd say he'd changed his mind and we could be friends—all three of us.

But no matter how hard I listened for his footsteps, Georgie didn't appear.

The morning slid past, each hour slower and emptier than the one before. I told myself I wouldn't leave till Georgie came home, I wouldn't meet Lissa, but in the end I couldn't stand the loneliness any longer.

Still hoping to see Georgie somewhere, I followed the path through the woods to Miss Lilian's house. Fallen leaves were ankle deep on the ground. I kicked through them the way I did each fall, watching them fly up in swirls of yellow and red, breathing in their mellow smell.

Sometimes I thought Georgie was following me, spying on me from a hiding place in the woods, but he didn't give himself away. Once or twice I stopped, shivery with goose bumps, and called his name, but he didn't jump out from behind a tree or a bush as I expected. Maybe it was a teenager from the houses across the highway, trying to scare me. That would have been a twist. I didn't dare imagine who else it might be.

At the rear of the old house, I hesitated. Above my head, the trees sighed and murmured. Branches creaked and rubbed against each other.

Without sunlight, the house's pink brick lost its color and faded to an ashy gray. A loose shutter on the second floor banged against the side. The plastic sheeting on the roof rose here and there, tugged by the wind.

The shivery feeling came back, stronger than before. I wished Georgie would step out of the woods and stop me from walking across the field to the terrace. I waited a little longer, giving him a chance to talk me into going home, but he didn't appear.

On the terrace, Lissa waited, dressed for the weather in a thick red sweatshirt and blue jeans. MacDuff loped about on the lawn, following his nose as if he were searching for something. Part of me said,
Go home, hide, don't go near the house,
but a stronger part said,
You've been lonely so long,you deserve a friend.

If Georgie had been in the shed when I woke up, if I'd met him in the woods, if we'd made up, I might not have left the shelter of the woods. But Lissa was sitting on the lion bench, her head down, looking as lonesome as I felt.

MacDuff saw me before Lissa did. He ran toward me, barking and wagging his tail. I held out my hand for him to sniff and he let me pet him.

"I was afraid you weren't coming." Lissa hugged herself against the wind. "Aren't you cold?"

I glanced down at my skirt and blouse and bare feet and shook my head. I was never really cold, never really hot. Never hungry, never thirsty. But I couldn't very well tell Lissa that without starting another round of questions. I shrugged, as if to say a little wind wouldn't hurt me.

"I can lend you a sweater," she offered. "Or a jacket."

"Thanks, but I'll be okay. I'm used to the cold."

"You are so mysterious, Diana." Lissa looked into my eyes, hungry to learn more about me.

I shrugged again, afraid to tell her anything that might give my secrets away.

Fortunately Lissa never stuck to one subject long. "Where's Georgie today?" she asked.

"He went off somewhere before I got up. He's still mad at me."

"I'm glad I don't have a brother." Lissa sighed. "A sister might be nice, though."

"Oh, Georgie's not so bad."

Lissa raised her eyebrows at that. "Why does he hate me so much?"

"I told you, he doesn't hate you. He's just scared of breaking the rules and being punished."

"What would your parents do to him?" Lissa stared at me. "If they beat him or anything like that, they could be arrested for child abuse."

No matter what I said, Lissa came up with questions I couldn't answer. In an effort to avoid her probing eyes, I looked across the lawn toward the woods, still hoping for a glimpse of Georgie. The wind was blowing harder, whipping the treetops back and forth. Eddies of dead leaves swirled toward us, spiraling up like phantoms from the corners of the terrace.

"A storm's coming," I said. "Maybe we should go to your place. Your dad will be worried."

Lissa pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and drew the drawstring tight under her chin. "Oh, don't worry about Dad. He's at Home Depot, the most boring store in the world. It's jam-packed with tools and plumbing fixtures and nails and screws and I don't know what all. He'll be there for hours."

"But look at the sky." I studied the clouds' dark shapes—flocks of lost sheep straying across a desolate wasteland, blown to rags and tatters by the wind. "It will rain soon."

"Just wait till you see what I have." Lissa reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a rusty key. A small tag hung from it. "I took this from Dad's key ring. Guess what it's for?"

I shrank back, my heart racing like a wild thing. It was a big, old-fashioned house key, maybe one that my father had carried on
his
key ring.

Lissa leaned close to me, her eyes gleaming. "It opens the back door. We can go inside."

On the other side of the brick wall I sensed Miss Lilian listening, her head up, like a hound on the scent of something.

"I think we should leave," I said. "Now. Before its too late."

Lissa ignored me. "The old woman who used to live here died in the parlor," she went on. "Dad told me nobody found her body for a week. Isn't that gross?"

"Lissa." I tugged at her arm. "Let's go."

Dropping her voice to a whisper, Lissa pulled me closer. "She never left the house, not even to buy groceries. Her hired man did the shopping for her, but she wouldn't let him in the house. No one was allowed in there. It was filthy, Dad said—cats peeing anywhere they liked, her garbage piled up everywhere, cockroaches, mice, even rats. She was crazy."

"I've heard that." I worked to keep my face blank, my voice expressionless. My own mother had said the same often enough, but she'd never been able to convince my father. Eccentric, he'd argued, but harmless. He should have listened to Mother. She knew Miss Lilian far better than he did.

Lissa waved the key. "You and I could go inside and see the very room she died in. Right now."

"Your father told us not to," I said. "It isn't safe."

"Dad isn't here," Lissa reminded me. "He won't know."

Rain began falling, softly at first, speckling my blouse and skirt with wet spots.

"Come on, Diana." Lissa got to her feet and tugged at my hand. "We'll get drenched out here."

"It's dark inside. You won't be able to see a thing." I didn't want to go into that house again, no matter how hard it rained. Where was Georgie? If he were here, he'd pull me away.

"I already thought of that." Lissa pulled a small flashlight out of her pocket and brandished it.

"We could fall through the floor and end up in the cellar—with the snakes."

"You're afraid!" Lissa laughed. "You think it's haunted, don't you? You're scared of Miss Willis!"

I wanted to cover her mouth to keep her from saying that name. "It's against the rules, Lissa," I blurted out. "I can't go in there! You mustn't go in either! You don't understand—"

"Your parents won't know you broke their silly rules," Lissa cut in.

Before I could stop her, she ran to the door and stuck the key in the lock. With a great deal of effort, she managed to turn it. It made a loud rasping sound. Shoving with her shoulder, she forced the door open.The hinges screeched in protest.

From where I stood, I felt cold dead air rush out to meet me. It smelled of cat pee, garbage, mold, mildew, all the stale odors that had been locked in the house with Miss Lilian.

MacDuff stuck his nose inside. When he caught the whiff of rot and decay, his hackles rose and he whined.

Lissa watched the dog back away from the door. "Mac-Duff," she said, "you silly thing. What's the matter with you?

Listen to him, I thought, he's smarter than you are. Of course, I didn't say it out loud. No matter how much trouble Lissa caused, I wanted to please her, to keep her as a friend.

MacDuff cocked his head and barked. "Come away, come away," he seemed to say.

Ignoring the dog, Lissa turned to me. "Come on," she urged. "We'll freeze to death out here."

Afraid to let her go by herself, I followed her through the door. MacDuff stayed where he was, but he continued to bark.

With the back door open, the house wasn't as dark as I'd expected. Lissa barely needed the flashlight. But she flicked it on anyway, playing the beam over the ruins of the kitchen. Someone had pulled the stove away from the wall to disconnect the gas line. The top was caked with burned grease, and the oven door hung open. The refrigerator door was gone, its interior stained and streaked. Bottles and jars filled the sink.

I was glad Mother wasn't here to see the state of things. In the old days, the kitchen had been her territory. She'd kept it gleaming and filled with good smells. Where spiders now spun their webs, geraniums had bloomed red and pink on the windowsills.

While I stayed in the doorway, fidgeting and fretting, Lissa explored the kitchen. Undeterred by cobwebs and filth and the rustle of mice burrowing into hiding places, she opened cupboards and investigated rusted cans of food, chipped china, dented pots and pans, empty bottles and jars.

"Look at this," she said loudly. "Miss Willis must have saved every jar of wheat germ she ever bought. I bet there's a hundred of them."

Miss Willis, Miss Willis
—the words hung in the still air like a call. "Wake up, Miss Willis, you have visitors."

"Let's go," I begged Lissa, sure I'd heard sounds from deep in the house. "Something's in here. Don't you hear it?"

"Mice," she said, cocking her head to listen. "Squirrels maybe."

I grabbed her arm, but she pulled away, as stubborn as Georgie. "I'm not leaving till I see the rest of the house."

Before I could stop her, Lissa pushed open the kitchen door and ran out into the hall. She stopped at the back stairs, the servants' stairs, the ones my mother used after Mrs. Willis died and Miss Lilian took over.

Lissa pointed the flashlight up into the darkness. "What's that at the top of the steps?"

In the dim light I made out the seat Miss Lilian had installed when she'd gotten too old to climb to the second floor. She sat on it, pushed a button, and it glided up and down the stairs. Before Miss Lilian died, Georgie and I played on it whenever we had a chance, zooming up and down as fast as we could. Miss Lilian would hear the noise and hobble down the hall. If she'd left the seat at the bottom of the stairs, she'd find it at the top. If she'd left it at the top, she'd find it at the bottom.

Georgie and I were too fast for her to catch us in the act, but she knew who was responsible. She'd call our names sometimes. And curse us. We never answered, but she must have heard us laughing. It was such fun to tease the old woman. Didn't she deserve it?

Back then, she couldn't do anything worse to us than she'd already done. But now? I wasn't so sure.

"It's a seat to help handicapped or old people go up and down the stairs," I told Lissa. I was proud of my steady voice, but I hid my shaking hands behind my back.

"Do you think it still works?"

"There's no electricity in the house," I said. "The county turned it off after she died."

Lissa drew in her breath and crossed her arms across her chest as if she were cold. "That seat looks creepy up there. Like it's waiting for Miss Willis."

"The whole place is creepy." I tugged her arm. "Let's go."

Lissa pulled away. "Not yet, Diana. I want to see what's upstairs."

"Those steps will collapse before you're halfway to the top." I tugged her arm again, and again she shook me off.

"There must be another staircase." Lissa pushed past me and headed down the hall toward the front of the house. From an uncovered window high overhead, a little daylight made its way down the curved staircase, illuminating thousands of dust motes dancing in the dim air.

Once more, I saw Miss Lilian sweeping down those stairs, head high, scorning Mother as she passed her, glaring at Georgie and me. How cold her voice, how haughty her manner, how hateful the look on her face. "Go outside, girl. I can't bear the sight of you."

It was rain I heard now, not Miss Lilian's voice. Rain beating against the boarded windows, splashing through holes in the roof, streaking the walls. Rain. And wind creeping through cracks, rattling and banging loose boards and shutters.

But there was something else—little sounds from behind the closed parlor door. Murmurs and sighs, shuffling noises, the tinkle of something small breaking. She was there all right, trapped in that room. As long as no one opened the door, maybe, just maybe...

I hesitated, torn between running outside and staying with Lissa, who was already at the top of the steps. "Come on, Diana," she called. I followed her, looking over my shoulder at the parlor door, terrified I'd see it slowly open.