The Storycatcher (27 page)

I looked away ’cause, Lord, I didn’t want her to know I didn’t understand. Part of me wanted to tell her who I was, what happened to me, and who did it. But I wasn’t sure how much that woman could take. I wanted to tell her about the death quilt, the buttons and the hair. But all that talking would give away what would happen. See, my death quilt had one key ingredient sewn into the making: magic. My quilt had the best of some people and the worst of others, little pieces that made up their souls. When woven together, they brought the most powerful protection.

Missus talked about being a young woman and coming to stay in the big, ugly brown house. She talked about seeing blue herons in the marsh, of
snakes ten feet long. I ate and listened to her words. The marsh played music that slipped in the windows. Somewhere a night bird called as if to say good-bye to the sun. No haunted woods here. Only the marsh and the big, mighty river.

After I finished cleaning off my plate, Missus began to run water in the sink. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever washed a dish. “Go get your quilt. You can sew while I wash.”

“I want to help.”

She looked at me with a sweet smile. “I want to wash them and look out the window. Go get the quilt.”

Upstairs in the room I picked to sleep in, I unfolded the quilt from the cloth sack that I brought it in. All different colors. Some bright, some soft, some dull. Outside in the backyard two alligators moved into the marsh from the tall grass. I pushed open the window and sat there watching the water way in the distance. And beyond was Sapelo Island. Shelly was there, probably having the time of her life. But Ada was strange, maybe a witch, a lot like Shelly’s mama in many ways.

“Maybe,” I heard over my shoulder. I spun around and saw the pretty colored woman I’d seen earlier.

“You’re a haint.”

She threw her head back and laughed at me. That’s when I seen her scar across her throat. “You’re from Black Mountain.” The woman watched me.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m a long way from home.” I picked up the sewing basket Missus had been talking about earlier.

“Yes you are. You have a memory box.” She looked at the basket.

“It’s not a box and there sure ain’t no memories of mine here.”

“It’s memories. I can almost see them. Old memories.” She looked back at me. “And you’re not a bit afraid of me. How can you see me and your mama can’t?”

“I’m different.”

The woman wore a fancy city suit, nothing a colored woman would
wear in the mountains. “There’s something not right about you, girl. Are you crazy? I’ve been around crazy.” Faith’s fear bubbled up in my chest. For a minute the whole room spun around. She was listening to every word. She wanted to come back.

“Why you bothering me?” I asked.

The woman took a step in the door. “I have a story on Black Mountain. Did you know that? I know more about that place than you think.”

“How?”

“My granny lived there. Shoot, I lived there as a child. That Negro girl with you.”

“Shelly?”

“Yes, I played with her daddy when we were children. Part of my story is right there on that mountain. What’s your name?”

“Faith Dobbins.”

She got the most hateful look on her face. “Liar. Don’t mess with me. I don’t have time for lies.” She turned to leave.

“Arleen. Arleen Brown. I’m using Faith to finish my story.”

“Yes, the truth will set you free. So you’re a spirit?”

I nodded. “Come here.” I stood in front of the looking glass.

The woman looked and saw the real me in the reflection. “You got a story as big as me. I’m Mary Beth Clark. My grandmother was known as Ma Clark. Did you ever hear of her?”

“No.” But I answered to an empty room. The woman was gone. Time was running out. Faith wanted free, and if she came back now, things would be a mess. The story would never be told.

“EXCUSE ME, MA’AM!”
I yelled from the top floor of the big house.

“I’m in the kitchen, Faith. I’ve made pancakes and soaked them in butter. Come on down.” Missus walked into sight. She was wearing men’s pants and a sleeveless blouse. “Bring down your quilt. You fell asleep on me last night. I want a good look at it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I went back for the charm quilt. She might as well
see it up close. I buried my nose in it and took in the lavender smell from Missus’s own perfume.

“A quilt?” Mary Beth Clark was blocking the door.

“More than a quilt.”

She nodded. “What kind of spell?”

“A death spell.”

Mary Beth Clark watched me. “I’m here for a death too. I wonder if it will be the same death.”

“Maybe.”

“But I have come to talk to Shelly. She has to hear my story. I might just have to use your trick to tell her.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

She laughed. “Your trick of sharing a body. I like the idea of that. Then she’ll have to listen to me.”

“You don’t need to do that. Shelly can hear and see us spirits just fine.”

“Faith? Are you talking to someone up there?” Missus yelled.

Mary Beth Clark was gone.

“No, ma’am. Just talking to myself.”

“I do that all the time.” Missus laughed.

W
HAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO
think about a brother who was living down here on some island and never ever sent me a letter? I know those weren’t the thoughts I should have been pondering. He was older, grown, and I wondered if maybe I just imagined he was Will.

He caught me staring at him. “What do you think about the boat ride?”

Now, any other time I’d be dying to talk about the ocean, but my mind was slap full. I shrugged. Why in the world wouldn’t he have at least sent a letter? Why?

“I guess this must feel strange.” He guided the boat toward the island.

“Maybe.” I said that word with a attitude full of sass.

He was quiet.

The water turned smoother as the boat neared shore.

“I guess you have lots of questions.” He scooted right up to the side of the dock like he could do it with his eyes closed, like he’d been doing such things all his life.

The Will I remembered couldn’t drive a boat.

“It’s not as simple as writing a letter.” Will looked straight ahead.

“Really?”

“You got to show Shelly the island this weekend.” Ada moved close to us.

Will looked away from me.

“That’s okay. He doesn’t have to show me anything.” I guess part of me wanted to hurt Will ’cause I sure was aching.

He didn’t say a word.

MY STOMACH RUMBLED
at the smell of onions and green peppers cooking. “Here, you chop,” Ada said, handing me a clove of garlic and a sharp knife.

I chopped just like I did in Pastor’s kitchen on Black Mountain.

“This smells good.” I didn’t look at her.

“You listen to me, girl. You don’t go judging him. You and him has a lot to talk about.” She looked at my hands. “You finished with that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I passed her the garlic.

Three scoops of yellow rice went in a pot of simmering chicken broth. “I see that look, young lady. I know what be running through your head. He ran off and never got back to you. Find out the story first. What kind of boy was he when he was home?”

“Quiet and sweet most of the time.”

“So you think he just up and changed into some mean old person? You think he didn’t want to see you?”

I shrugged, even though she knew exactly what I was thinking.

“You got a lot to learn about growing up.” She wagged a finger at me. The kitchen was so hot, sweat poured down my back.

“He should have let Nada know where he was. Them two had a
way of talking that only they understood. And he just up and left one afternoon.”

Ada looked at me. “Must have been mighty lonely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, your mama and brother talking between each other like you not even there.” She stirred the garlic, onions, and peppers, adding a little extra butter.

“Ah, it wasn’t like that.”

“Maybe not.” She shrugged. “But they had something to talk about that you wasn’t a part of. That’s what I heard you say. What was it?”

“I don’t know. I was younger by a lot.”

“Shelly, your room is ready.” Will stood in the door.

My cheeks warmed at the thought of him hearing us talk. “Thank you.”

“We’ll be through here in a bit. You go take your walk on the beach.”

“Can I steal Shelly?” He gave Ada a big smile and she glowed.

“Go on, Shelly. Take you a walk with Will.”

No one asked me if I wanted to go. Maybe I didn’t want no part of him.

“Only if you want,” he said, sensing the pause I took. I’m sure he was surprised that I didn’t just cow down and show him how happy I was to see him alive. That old Shelly would have followed him to the end of the earth. That’s what I always did, follow him, sucking them two fingers, thinking he was just as good as Pastor’s Jesus that walked on water.

I washed my hands under the faucet. “I guess.”

“Good.” He turned.

“You be nice to him,” Ada whispered. “Just think on this. Why hadn’t your mama gone looking for her boy? Hm?”

I left that kitchen as fast as I could.

Will waited for me in a truck. “Come on. There’s nothing like a little talk while walking on the beach. You’ll see.” The drive was short.

The wind blew so long and hard I could barely hear Will.

“This is Nanny Goat Beach. I like to walk this way. Mr. Reynolds and his friends use that part.”

The white sand was warm but not too hot to bare feet. The sun was over to our left and hit the water here and there with sparkling light. Everywhere was shells. I picked up one that was perfect and smooth with a pink inside.

“That’s a pretty shell.” Will touched the smooth circles that began in the center and worked out.

“It’s for Nada.” I couldn’t look at him, so I watched the water rushing into the beach, creating a louder sound than the wind.

“You turned out to be a beautiful young woman!” Will yelled with a smile on his face.

I almost kept quiet. It seemed too much to speak with the wind pushing at me. “Why you say that?”

He looked at me funny. “You really don’t know how pretty you are.”

I laughed long and loud. All those years of trying to be noticed, to get Nada to see me as something besides a little girl, folded out in front of me. Pretty was long blond hair and white skin. Pretty was lacy dresses and blue ribbons hanging down my back. “Nothing pretty about me.”

He shook his head. “You can’t see who you are.”

Now he was working on my last nerve. “Well, you sure don’t know. Do you? You ran off. I clean and cook just like Nada. That’s my life. I take care of selfish old Faith and Mrs. Dobbins, dodging Pastor when I can.” The words were so angry they were louder than the hum of the ocean.

He touched my hand, not a bit mad. “I have the gift of reading. Two children with gifts that are more like plagues. Nada turned us out special. I read you today on the boat. Do you want to know what I saw?”

And there it was. My future offered to me. What fifteen-year-old girl wouldn’t want to know? But a feeling was building inside of me, a
feeling that men only cared about themselves. “I can’t know nothing. It’ll be too hard to go on living my life on that mountain with Nada. I won’t run off and leave her, Will. She needs me.”

“That’s not much of a life, Shelly. And it doesn’t turn out like that.” He walked on ahead.

“SHELLY, GET UP!” ADA YELLED
from the front room. “Will wants you to go with him somewhere.”

Will didn’t even look at me good. “Come on,” he said.

So why did I follow him?

He parked the truck in the same place as we did the evening before. “Come on. Hurry.” He jumped out, and I ran behind him.

He nodded to what looked like really long pieces of half-dried grass, swaying in the dern wind that blew all the time. “These are sea oats. They grow in the sand dunes.”