The House on Good Morning Lane

Prologue

Through the dark stormy night the train rushed along the tracks, winding its way through forests of the Green Mountains. No moon that night, only darkness. A young woman huddled in her seat in the back of the train car holding her bag to her chest and watching out the window. A sob could be heard at times from back there and a pile of tissues were crumpled on the floor between the seats. A few other passengers were scattered throughout the car taking the midnight express but most of them were sleeping. The storm raged outside rocking the train at times as it wound its way through the Green Mountains carrying the girl back to her home in the Cove and what awaited her there..

The cove was located back in the forests close to the town of Middleton, Vermont. Those in the surrounding area were very familiar with the cove but to outsiders it could be hard to find without a map. Those who entered came through a small opening in the trees on the highway onto a narrow road leading back through a covered tree tunnel and coming out into a spectacular clearing with a beautiful pond surrounded by white cottages and lawns spreading out with grasses and flowers in abundance. The cottages, each one with its own identity and all white with thatched roofs and colorful shutters sat back a ways from the pond at different angles with white garden paths from their door leading down to the pebble path that wound itself around the pond.

The cottages were all inhabited by the Anderson Women, their husbands, and their families flower beds ablaze with color, song birds, swarms of butterflies, not to mention turtles sunning themselves on rocks and ducks and swans gliding across the pond gave it an unreal look. The large cottage on the left was the home of Katharine Anderson Cook, “Aunt Cappy” to her nieces and nephew. A glass dome room that covered one side of the cottage was entered through a vine covered archway with a sign that dangled from the entry that read, “Katharine’s Studio.”

The next cottage at distance from the first but also back a ways from the pond although facing it, was surrounded on one side by patios on various levels and had the look of an outside café with tables with gingham cloths and chairs. A wing of the cottage on the right had chimneys from ovens and stoves within the kitchen inside. Wonderful smells of fresh baked breads and pies as well as delicious dishes drifted constantly out of the kitchen door and down the path. Some said they could even smell it in town on days whether windy or still. This was the cottage of Aunt Maggie and Uncle Ralph and the two oldest cousins Marcella and Jerome. The small sign at the gate reads Divinely Delicious.

Around the end of the pond and across from Maggie’s cottage on the right sits the cottage of the matriarch, Alice La Plume Anderson. Her cottage is the largest one of them all and very distinct from the others in many ways but primarily because it had been built with a tall stone bell tower where a white and silver bell rings for various reasons, one that can be heard very clearly with its commanding gong. Alice has lived here all of her life, in fact she was born there as was her family before her, except for a short time when she was married to Andrew Anderson and their three daughters were born. But then he went off to war and was killed in battle. And so, at her mother’s urging, she and her daughters had moved back to the Cove where she opened her hat shop. This cove had been in the La Plume family for several hundred years. Like all the other cottages, this cottage also had a shop as a part of it. And this one was a hat shop. A cobblestone walk led up from the path, circled a fountain and continued onto a long porch. French doors led into the house and another one on the right at the end of the porch led into the hat shop, a wonderful place filled with Grandma’s hats.

The last cottage was the one where Josie, and her mother and father lived. This one was white with lime green shutters and looked basically like the others except for the massive gardens that covered the whole acreage surrounding it. A glass greenhouse of a great size sits on the side slightly to the right with a shop on the front and a sign that read “Becca’s Blossoms.” Josie Anderson Cornel and her husband Walter and daughter Josie Cornel, that you’ve already met live within.

And this is where the story begins....

I felt a blast of cold air as I felt the train pull to a stop, the doors opened letting the cold air in and the one lone passenger off at their stop. I had dozed off with my head crooked against the window ledge. And then I remembered and my mind began once again to race. Over and over in my mind, the words, “Gramma please wait for me. PLEASE,” repeated and repeated. Tears rolled down over my face over dried ones. The clacking of the train kept time with my heart beat. Rain beat against the window. It would be a long ride tonight. A few passengers were scattered throughout the car and I could see that most of them were sleeping. I stood to stretch and then my legs seem to give out and I crumpled back into the seat. I was drifting for a moment. I could hear the sound of a song somewhere in my memory and then it felt as though I was being shot back on a sailing ship of time through oceans of stars back, back, back. The morning sunlight through the gingham curtains splashed across my face causing me to blink. I rubbed my eyes. I was back in my girlhood bedroom in our cottage in the cove. “Good Morning to you, Good Morning to you, we’re all in our places with sunshiny faces, for this is the way, we start a new day,” my mom was singing as she fixed breakfast and I could smell bacon frying. I peeled back my quilt, swung my legs over the side and hit the floor running. I couldn’t be late to Maple Elementary because this was the day that Miss Wheeler announced the winner of the city wide art contest and I thought my picture of exploring a pyramid might have a chance. Buttoning my back buttons as far as I could reach and letting my sash dangle as I hurried into the kitchen. And there as always sat a small blue plate with a poached egg in the middle that mom fixed every morning for my breakfast with crumbled bread crumbs. Her mom was nicknamed Becca but her name was Rebecca, a slender dark haired woman who was 3rd in a family of sisters that were known all around as the “Anderson Women.” She always sang her morning song. In fact her voice could be heard off and on all day throughout the cove being carried by the breezes that swept across the pond. It was a morning song that she had learned from her own mother, it always seemed to start the day “on the right foot” as Grandma Alice, always said. .

Dad had already left for work. He left before sunrise to run his business, Walter Cornel’s Construction. Dad could fix anything. He kept the Cove running. He also liked to sing but his was in the evening with his guitar. Mom sang in the morning and then all day long while working in her flower beds. You could her voice floating in the breeze across the pond and sometimes I thought I heard it when I wasn’t even there. I gathered my things, kissed mom and then out the front door through the garden, around the pound, pausing to throw my bread crumbs out to the mallards before they flew away southbound in a few days, down the lane through the trees lined with forest flowers and the sound of birds only to pop out around the bend to hook up with Mazey, my best pal. I was jolted awake.

I sat bolt upright. The clattering of the train on its rails seemed louder than before and the heavy rain seemed to be beating harder on the roof. I was sick at heart and afraid of what I might find when I reached my destination. Hurry Hurry Hurry.

And then I was back in time once again chasing butterflies in my Aunt Cappy’s back yard while the sound of sewing machines drifted out of the open windows of her studio. I had dreams back then of someday having my own studio just like hers with tall mirrors and high windows with hexagonal platforms for ladies to stand on and twist and turn to admire themselves in Aunt Cappy’s beautiful latest creations. She was magic to me -Aunt Cappy. Somewhere in the recesses I could barely hear her voice calling to me. “Josie Josie, where are you my darling girl,” My memory went back to visions oft in her wonderful studio. I can see her now in my mind’s eye inspecting rolls of fabrics on the racks, pinching a tuck in a skirt as she passed it by and standing back with her one finger on her lips and one eyebrow raised to take look like she always did.

She was the oldest of the Anderson sisters. Her husband that I had never known, Uncle Steve, had been lost at sea years before I was born. And like Grandma Alice, she had come home to the cove. Aunt Cappy was thin like all of the Anderson women almost birdlike.. She had dark raven colored hair and twinkly eyes. She was an artist and musician and everything she touched was better for it. She can just give you a glance and then walk over and tweak something – your hair, your collar, your bedroom lamp – and a soft sound of mandolins can be heard somewhere like fairy music and then tiny sparkling stars will fill the air for just an instant – and then everything will be put to rights in a splendid way. People say that she has magic in her fingers. Her studio is a part of her cottage with high vaulted glass ceilings. You can see the sky from inside Down below on the walls hung colored spools of threads and sitting on every sewing machine were cushions of pins and needles. I could see the hooks along the wall where the sharpest silver scissors hung in their sheaths on silver hooks.

Once while making a muumuu for an Hawaiian dance at school, the needle on my machine broke. Mom was gone and couldn’t help me and I was almost out of time before my date arrive. I grabbed it off of the machine and dashed around the pound through our gardens and the tall grass to the studio. I had designed a muumuu that I believed to be quite different from the normal shapeless, sleeveless ones with big palm trees on the. Oh no, mine would be different. It was a bright golden yellow, straight and short above the knees with large elephant ear sleeves and a big white pocket on the front with a handle sewed there to make the pocket resemble a basket. Cappy was alone that Saturday. She looked up from her machine, I can still see her – head bent over her work, light filtering down on her – a moment in time. She looked up and a smile broke out on her face when she saw me. In a rushed voice, I told her my dilemma. She stood back and then pointed out a machine that I could use. I took the seam ripper from its hook and started working each stitch when she leaned over me and pointed to a loose thread on the other side of the seam. “Always pull the bottom string Josie when you want to open a seam. With the slightest pull, the seam came apart. I placed my faric back under the pressure foot and stitched it up. I was excited to look at it but was slightly disappointed when I held it up and looked it over. It lacked something. Aunt Cappy looked at my face and then at the muumuu and held out her hand. I handed it over. She sat down at her machine and in a matter of minutes she had taken scraps of colorful fabrics out of her scrap basket and machine-appliquéd a huge bouquet of tropical flowers dripping out of my muumuu basket pocket and they were cascading down the front to drip a few petals off of the hem. Magic! Minutes! That’s all it took her. “Here you go! Now run or you will never make it!” And run I did – just in time! And off to the dance. My muumuu was a big hit and some even asked me if I would make one of them. Looking back now, I know that that day with the muumuu in Aunt Cappy’s studio changed my whole perspective in design and from then on my ideas soared. I began to try out ideas that included retro and bohemian – even eclectic and experiential. In other words a little quirky – or even a lot quirky and she was my biggest fan cheering me on. Sometimes she even used one of my ideas and the best part was that when she did, she always included my name under her label. So different that what was to come.

I roused as the train stopped to let a lone passenger off at a stop. I sat back in my seat thinking of my dream remembering cars circling our pond, stopping at our cottages.

People come from towns around to Aunt Cappys studio, Katharine’s. But that isn’t the only reason that people come to the cove. My other aunt - Aunt Maggie is a genius in the kitchen absolutely amazing. She is known everywhere for her delicious pies and cookies and pastries and everything she makes. Her pie shop, Divinely Delicious, was built as a part of her cottage like every cottage in the cove. And starting with early morning breakfast, people began arriving at the crack of dawn and it is filled with people until dusk. One of her special skills is that she can make a feast out of random food items AND on the spur of the moment as well. From early morning until late afternoon, delicious aromas wafts out of her pie shop and drifted magically down the lane seemingly to capture the desires of motorists on the road as well as riding the winds or breezes into town through the vents into homes and businesses captivating all who are privileged to breathe in these wonderful smells. Aunt Maggie can bake a single piece of pie for you if you are having a bad day and she always seems to know what you are hungry for. One special memory was the time when I was small and I had my tonsils out. Afterwards, crying in pain in my bed unable to swallow, and then suddenly I heard the sounds of the mandolin strings and knew that something was coming. The rich buttery smell of the pie was next to make an appearance in the air followed by the sound of her footsteps tip tapping on the stairs. Around the corner came Aunt Maggie with a cloud of tiny stars swirling over her head. In her hands, she carried a piece of lemon meringue pie on a white plate with a silver fork and she held it out to me with that sweet smile on her face. I took one bite and felt the lemon pudding slide down my throat over my tonsillectomy and Wa La - the pain was gone! I gobbled down the divinely delicious lemony pie and slid off to dreamland.

And there is my mother, the youngest of the sisters. She can grow anything! Flowers fill the cove around all of our cottages, the pond, the paths, the road AND in her immense gardens and greenhouse. She is a gardener with a gift for growing. Everything she touches flourishes in abundance. In the summer, fall, winter, and spring something is in bloom in my mother, Becca’s, gardens both inside our cottage, in our luscious greenhouse or blanketed all around our house and spilling out into the pond and down the lane. Mom is the proprietor of Beccas Blossoms, the flower shop that is a part of our greenhouse where as fast as flowers are sold, more will bloom – like magic.

Even flowers that normally die in the fall and have to be replanted in the spring will magically spring up every spring as though they had been snug in their beds sleeping deep beneath the snows of winter only to wake up every spring. Her flower shop, Beccas Blossoms, is situated in the front of the long and tall glass greenhouse and is always bursting with plants and blossom – well - growing. Many townspeople come to Becca’s Blossum greenhouse just to inhale the wonder of it rather than to buy anything. But mom will never allow it. She always sends them away holding a blossom and wearing a look of happiness. I can feel the hot tears. “I am so sorry,” I whispered.

Marcella and Jerome were the oldest cousins and I was the “little cousin” guided into ornery deeds by my cousins and taught all kinds of things.. They were my heroes. I tried to do everything that they did. We ran around all day long back then as a group – always with bare feet. To wear shoes meant that you were a sissy which was the worst thing anyone could be according the Marcella. To cry when mentholate was put on a cut – same thing. There were rules.

And then there was Tommy Benton, our friend from outside the cove whose mom was and still is one of the seamstresses in Aunt Cappy’s studio. He hung out with us when school was out sometimes – funny – red-headed and unpredictable. Marcella and Jerome didn’t pull any of their tricks when he was around – always following the rules as though he may report their shenanigans if he knew. But most of the time Tommy was just one of us. Those were happy summer days in the cove. And then the memory of leaving it and the faces of all of them waving good bye.

On days that it was just us, we made secret pacts in the woods under rocks and in caves. We climbed our special trees with Marcella and Jerome going way high in the branches and me whining down below until they both called me a sissy and I grabbed the lowest branch, stuck my foot in the notch and pulled myself up. (I smiled at the thought of it). Jumping into the cloudy water of the pond in spite of our parents rule to “stay away from the deep in,” holding our breath until we felt like bursting – summer days in the cove. Marcella could do this the best actually she could do everything the best even though Jerome was the oldest.

As I sat in the loneliness of the train that night I thought back to the cove. The days of green worm burials, riding a lawn chair tied by a rope and swung around by Jerome, secrets told with a mark on your hand and best of all swimming in the pond. We loved to swim in the pond. Both Marcella and Jerome were experts at holding their breath for long periods of time and swimming under water. I tried and tried but I always had to give in and pop up to grab a big drink of air. One afternoon they talked me into trying again. Both of them counted seconds as I sat in the bottom of the pond and tried my hardest to hold my breath. Once when I almost made the count, they pulled me into the woods under the wishing stone in the fairy circle and whispered, “Josie, when you hold your breath, close your eyes tight, count to 3 and then open them wide until you see the sunbeam and then you can stay down forever!” It took several tries before I could talk myself into opening my eyes – sure I saw the sunbeam but..... And it worked! I spent the rest of the afternoon staying under water until I heard my mom call “Supper is ready.”

That night after dinner, my mother came into my bedroom and sitting on my bed, I remembered her solemn look as she said in a very stern voice, “Josie, I happened to look out of my kitchen window this afternoon and I watched you kids in the pond. Marcella and Jerome were sitting on the bank and I saw you go beneath the surface. You stayed under too long, my little love.”

“But mom! There’s a trick. Mar.”

She put her fingers on my lips and shushed me, “I know I know. But let me be very clear Josie Ann and she leaned forward almost to nose-touching and directed her gaze directly into my eyes until it stung, “You must never use that “trick” recklessly EVER! Do you hear me? I will block you forever from the pond – do you want that?” I wasn’t sure which way to nod so I squeaked out, “I won’t.”

Mom replied, “Do you promise me Josie?”

I whispered so that the words came out like a shadow, “I promise.”

To be blocked from the pond would be the worst punishment on earth. I could hear Marcella and Jerome calling me a sissy and making me kiss a bug or something before I could join them. I had never been spoken to like that from mom and in fact, I had never heard talk in that tone of voice before from anyone. I must have done something very wrong, I thought. But I couldn’t think what would be wrong with holding my breath.

The next day I sat at the end of the old wharf watching my cousins and Tommy frolic in the water feeling sorry for myself. They called to me but they could tell that they better not pester me. That was the day that Jerome got caught under the wharf and almost drowned. It seems the trick has a time limit and once he got stuck, and Marcella realized it, it was almost too late. Her screams could be heard around the cove and all of the aunts, my mom, and everyone in their shops and studios raced to the wharf. I ran as fast as I could through the high grass and got there just as my mom dove under the water. Agonizing minutes dragged by as we waited. Aunt Cappy stood waist deep in the water holding mom down as she blew water into Jerome’s mouth and was finally was able to break him loose. His lifeless body was carried out of the pond and placed in the grass while emergency workers worked over him. When he finally gasped a breath, we all did. They took him away and it was a few days before he came home. We gathered around his bed while he tried to make jokes about it. I remember hearing Gramma’s voice out in the garden the night that it happened. They stood surrounded among the fireflies that night talking about the possibility of a “breech”. Somehow I knew she was talking about Jerome and his accident but what did she mean? My mom never said anything to me but her words rang in my head “You must never use that “trick” recklessly EVER!. The pond was still with only the ducks and birds and the waving grasses and lilies for days as if they knew what had almost happened.

And then everything seemed to fall into place and life went on in the cove. People lined up outside Aunt Maggie’s cottage every day for her delicious pies, cookies, and cakes; the sound of sewing machines hummed from Aunt Cappy’s and a steady stream of women with big shiny packages tied up with satin ribbons carrying their beautiful garments happily pranced out her door with their bounty, flowers still bloomed and people still came, Grammas Alices hats still were seen on those leaving the cove, but something was different somehow.

As I sat huddled there in the train, I was faced with the fact that I had been traveling in memories of my childhood in the cove with my aunts and my mom. But the one person that I was afraid to think about now was my Grandmother Alice. Gramma was the queen of us all. In her younger days, she was the proprietor of a spectacular hat shop. Ladies from far and wide – cities and towns and farms came to twist and turn before her mirror with her wonderful hats on top of their heads. She designed and created these amazing hats and to this day the Anderson women as we are known, can always be seen wearing beautiful and even audacious hats of all sizes and colors. Gramma Alice still makes hats but only special orders. Naturally all of us have closets of hats – beautiful, clever, sporty, and just about everything you can imagine. Some people have the power of knowing, my grandmother says, and seriously I believe she is right especially when I am wearing one of her hats! Once you place one on your head wonderful things happen. If you are scared before you put it on, now you are brave for example, if sad or blue; now you are happy and the sun seems to shine.

As a child it all just seemed normal – nothing special. Magic didn’t seem like such a big thing – Grandmother could tell Aunt Maggie when her pie was at risk for burning, or Aunt Cappy when she had left a pin in a garment or alert mom that a bug was about to eat up all of the nasturtiums – and all of this without being there. She knew when you were going to arrive at her cottage and would be waiting with your favorite tea. She could answer your questions before you asked them and was very wise. We all counted on her almost like a guardian angel. We didn’t think of it as magic- just that it was well ...Grandma Alice. One night when I was about 8 or 9 I was awakened by voices in the garden. I crept out in my bare feet and peeked through the lilacs and saw my all of them gathered in a circle under the moonlight. Suddenly they stopped, got quiet and shushed each other while looking around over their shoulders. My grandma Alice turned abruptly and sent a look directly into my eyes across the yard, through the lilacs where I was hiding. I could hear the distant sound of mandolins and see the tiny sparkling stars and then it was morning with sunlight coming through my windows and the sound of my mother singing Good Morning to you in the kitchen. “It must have only been a dream,” I thought to myself and when I told Grandma Alice, she agreed.

I was 13 years old and things were changing as I became a teen. One of them was that I began to realize when something was about to happen – little things like knowing that a pop quiz was coming before it happened or that Marcella and Jerome were not only cooking something up but I began to know what it was before they did it. It became hard to surprise me. One afternoon while sitting with Grandma on her swing under the wisteria she startled me when she said,” Josie be careful what you say to people. They will not understand. You have a gift like the rest of us. Use it with care and only for good. Be careful of all that comes to you.” Looking into her eyes I knew exactly what she was talking about (except maybe “all that comes in). I had crossed a threshold it seemed, into a place that I didn’t know existed before that. I was growing up. Weird. I should have listened.

When I was in junior high, a new family, the Holt’s, moved into town. Mr. Holt went to work in Uncle Ralph’s Grocery and Mrs. Holt joined the garden club. Our town is always happy to have new families move in and everybody gathered around taking turns having them over for dinner. Randy, their 16 year old son, was in high school but Donna, their daughter, was Masey’s and my age and so was in our classes which was great. So we jumped right in and invited her to walk with us after school since she lived in the same area of town. We also invited her to our homes for after school fun as well. She was loads of fun and at first, we were all friends. Her family began joining in the town’s activities and everything was going well. Halloween was coming and that year, there was going to be a big Spook Walk and Haunted house in the town square. We collaborated on our costumes and signed up for shifts in the Spook House now that we were “older.” Then right before the big night, she stopped sitting with us at lunch and didn’t show up after school to walk with us even though we waited and waited for her. Halloween came and went and we began seeing her hanging around with a whole different bunch – the “wild” kids. Mazie said she was through trying to make friends with her because she was starting to be rude and even insulting. I kept trying for awhile and then I too realized that I was probably pushing in where I wasn’t wanted and so I stopped too.

Then horrible things began to happen. The tires on our bikes were sliced as they sat in the bike stands behind the school building; the waterline to mom’s greenhouse was cut; mean notes were left on our lockers, and taunts were thrown at us in the hallways. And then around homecoming, someone caught Donna and her pals under the bleachers painting mean messages about Mazie and I and my family and they were all expelled from school. But it didn’t stop from there. It seemed to make it worse. As time went on some of the kids from her group started calling our phone at home and yelling hate messages. Taking the phone off of the hook only caused it to buzz loudly so suddenly the phone seemed to jump on the table but the ring couldn’t be heard. Grandma to the rescue! After a while, it stopped.

In the spring I was awarded the Fashion Show Manager in the Homemaking Division at school. This was an award that I had been aiming at and was only given to 9th graders. It essentially was a big deal in my school and right away Donna and her group filed complaints saying that I should be disqualified because Cappy was my aunt and she was probably doing my work for me. Which was not true of course because for one thing, we would never do that but also because it was easy to tell Cappy’s from mine I wanted to bow out but the teacher insisted that I remain as the manager. My dad said, “Don’t let them scare you away Josie. Put on your hat.” That did it! I wasn’t going to back down. Donna and her friends were denied their request and their complaint was dropped. I forged on even though the whole thing backfired. Retaliation occurred. And it got worse – for me, for Mazie, and my family. Greenhouse windows were broken with snow on the ground, and the freezing temperatures would have killed our plants except for grandma Alice’s prediction and the help from all of us in the cove to show up and stop it before all of the glass was broken. Aunt Maggie’s pies that were sold out of her and Uncle Ralph’s grocery store in town caused food poisoning to all those who bought them that day but when examined by the police, it was clear that the coverings had been cut so it was obvious that someone had come into the store and had clearly damaged them. Grandma told everyone with dogs in the cove to keep them in one day. But one of ours got out, became ill and it was discovered that he had been poisoned. He survived but this was getting serious. We were under siege. Some of my friends began to back off because of fear that they would get the same treatment. Mazey and Tommy were my only friends that stuck it out but then again, Tommy seemed to straddle the fence at times.

When I was old enough to drive, I was given an old coup that I named “Baby” and after Marcella went off to culinary school, I was given her special job by Aunt Cappy. Here’s how it worked. During the fall, winter, spring and summer, the new fashions would “come out” all over the world and would be visible in our town, first in the upscale dress shop windows in our town that sifted down from the big city nearby. Aunt Cappy must have known already what was coming out even though back then we didn’t have televisions yet or computers and fashion magazines came in the middle of the month. But she was like all of the rest of the Anderson women so when I think about it now, I realize that she probably already knew. But back then it was pretty cool to get to drive but super cool to be given this job plus to us, it was exciting to get an early peek at the colors of the season, the hem length, and the overall presentation of the clothing that would be displayed in these elegant store windows. First I would get a note at school from Aunt Cappy that said “Wool Brothers is in,” and that would be my clue that after school I was supposed to drive downtown in Baby and draw the new season fashion arrivals in the two upscale dress shops on my drawing pad. Then I would get in Baby and take the drawings out to the Cove specifically to the Studio and put them on Aunt Cappy’s drawing board. Everyone would gather around and discuss what they saw and what they thought about it and much more. A few days later amazing designs would spring out of her drawing board almost like a cannon being shot. Hers were nothing like those in the windows and that was her point. She didn’t use the designs rather she created designs that challenged them – went against them so to speak. Women all over the country – that’s right, not just in our area – but everywhere would clamber to see what was coming from the studio of Katharine - Cappy’s Studio. Sometimes they would even be featured in catalogues. The fall season was coming. School had started and for fashion, it was that time of year. Late summer/early fall and soon the fashions would come to town. That’s when something happened that I will never forget and after that, nothing was the same.

That brings us to the Wool Brothers incident as we called it. I was sitting in my Social Studies Class doodling on my notepad and trying to stay focused on the teacher’s voice. The windows were up to let in the warm breeze. I glanced down at my notepad and at first, I didn’t know what I was looking at and then it came into focus and there before me was Wool’s window with the new arrivals. I had drawn them and I hadn’t even SEEN them yet! What was I thinking? Just then the door to the classroom opened and the school secretary came through the door with a smile on her face, holding a note and looking straight at me. Cappy’s note! Everyone looked my way because everyone knew about this and I admit I had played it up. My friends shot me a glance. And then like the crack of a gun, Donna jumped out of her seat beside me and grabbed my notepad. She held it up and shouted: “She’s a fraud! She already has either seen the windows OR she’s a WITCH!” There was a gasp as I sat there stunned. Miss Packard the secretary came over to Donna, held out her hand, and took the notepad. Then she looked down at me.

“I was going to let you out early so that you could do what your aunt wants you to do but now I guess there’s no need. Looks like you already know although how you did it, I don’t know. I think it’s time Miss Cornel that we talk to Miss Lemon(the principal).” I could hear the tittering in the classroom as I meekly followed Miss Packard out.

“Josie, what’s this about? Can you explain this to me?” Miss Lemon seemed puzzled. I shook my head and then I thought I should have lied and said that I had already seen them but I am glad that I didn’t because 1. I am a terrible liar and 2. It was proven that I had not left school since the time that Wool Brothers had opened their curtains that afternoon. I had not done anything wrong exactly but my parents were called in. The main problem was that my drawings exactly matched Wool Brothers window. To everyone investigating this, there was no evidence of wrong-doing really because I hadn’t cut school even though kids started looking at me weird.

It was a blow to me that my mind seemed to take in information such as Wool’s window could come to me uninvited – so was I in control of my thoughts or not?. I felt like I WAS a fraud. It made my Manager Award seem underserved. Sure I had been sewing and drawing all of my life unlike most of the other girls who were beginners. So I had an advantage over them. When I told Grandma about my shame, she said, “Josie, Miss Wells,(my teacher) knew what she was doing when she chose you to lead the other girls. This was not unknown to everyone – you know that we are known for our work, right? This was not a competition for the best seamstress, this was about leadership. Don’t let anyone take that from you. But t is time that you learn to watch what ideas come into your mind. You are growing up.” There it was again.

The harassment didn’t stop. In fact, the taunting and bullying kept on. Donna and her gang set out to prove that we were all evil witches. They tried to prove that Aunt Margie put drugs in her baked goods – otherwise, why did you feel so good after eating them? Of course that wasn’t true and could never be proven. I think actually some were upset that it wasn’t. This whole investigation didn’t seem to hurt business. Mom’s herb gardens were destroyed while they tried to prove that she was growing illegal herbs. It ruined her gardens but just like all of the plants in her garden, they grew right back.

Aunt Cappy’s habit of looking at other people’s designs was publicized all over but when her designs were finally published next to the ones in Wool’s windows and all of the ones for years before, it was obvious that their charges were “balderdash,” as Grandma angrily cried. And speaking of Grandma, interesting point – nobody – absolutely NOBODY messed with Grandma. Make that what you will. But my family was put through a very dark time and had to prove that the charges were unfounded took a lot of time and it was a while before things started to re-balance but it didn’t stop the Anderson women. They marched on.

My family cleared their name but why did they even have to? Answer: Because of me. Okay so what about me? What are we? Are we witches? What are we? Nobody would straight out answer me but a moonlight meeting was called under the full moon. Marcella had even come home from college for it and all of the Anderson women in white robes danced in a fairy circle. It was April but the air was filled with butterflies, sparkling stars, and mandolin music and moonlight. I had come of age. It was lovely and wonderful. Grandma led the meeting. “We gather together as women of the earth. We have been given our skills as a gift to spread and to give back to the earth. This remains a secret that we must guard so evil does invade our space and seek to hurt us.

We are sisters of the knowing. Josie we welcome you into our circle.”

“Me? Know my own knowing? So I am weird and what they are saying about me is true? Well, I am turning it down! I don’t want to be like you,” I shouted into the night air. Stillness. The fireflies went out one by one. The fire died down and there was a dark silence except for the sounds of my sobbing and my footsteps as I ran through the grass.

And then the spell was broken for me. I heard them calling for me in the wind as the moon went behind a cloud. I jumped in Baby and raced out of the cove, around the pond on two wheels. I reached the highway and stepped on the gas, tears filling my eyes. Everything raced through my mind, the mandolin music and sparking stars – the crazy things that Marcella, Jerome, and I used to do. How many times had I heard the word “magical.” And look what it has done to me and my family. Baby was weaving all over the road as I tried to wipe the tears out of my eyes and hang onto the steering wheel.

BOOM! Suddenly a bolt of lightning struck the highway right in front of me on the road and then rain came down in torrents. I couldn’t see out of my windshield. More lightening. The wind came up rocking Baby. I slid across the centerline on the wet blacktop and found myself heading down a country road into a woods. Baby seemed to sink. And I was stuck in the middle of nowhere and the gas gage said “Empty.” There were no lights in the town. The rain pounded on the roof. Darkness was heavy around me. All thoughts of moonlight and gifts vanished as my mind raced trying to think of what to do next. And then a few minutes later – I saw a small light shining through the trees. It seemed to be in the attic of an old house way back from the road. I could barely see it. My heart sang. I found my hat in the back seat and wrapping my flimsy white “moon” robe around me and holding my hat on top of my head, I opened the door of the car and stepped out into the mud. I could hear the sound of a bell ringing in the wind and I started slogging through the mud in that direction. The house was further away than I thought it was and by the time I reached the porch I was covered in mud and soaked to the skin. A shiny brass bell showed the darkness. Dark – very dark and for a moment I thought I had been mistaken about anyone being up but then I saw a candle glowing from within the big double doors and a sweet face peering out behind it.

“Oh my dear, step inside. I’ve been worried.” It was warm inside the massive room with a fire cackling in hearth. “Forgive me dear, but our lights are out,” she whispered.”Please sit by the fire and have a cup of tea. It will warm you.”Her face was hidden in the shadows and her knarled fingers were ice cold to the touch. The sweet hot tea warmed me as it slid down my throat but as I looked up once again into her eyes I began to feel myself falling backward into a swirling mist and then everything went black.

The next morning I awoke in the front seat of Baby and we were on the shoulder of the highway. Someone was knocking on my window. I sat up and rolled it down blinking in the morning sun. “Are you alright? We saw the car and decided to make sure nobody was inside. But here you are.”

“Thank you,” I rubbed my eyes trying to wake up. “I slid off the road in the storm and must have fallen asleep.”

“I am glad you’re okay,” she said but as she walked away towards her car, I heard her say to the man with her, “Storm? Was there a storm?”

I slowly drove up and down the highway scanning the trees looking for an opening but couldn’t find one. So I headed back home.

“So....?” Mom looked up from her tulip bed as I walked past on the path.

“Sorry,” was all I could say. Where had I been and who was that woman? I felt certain that I had sloshed through the mud in a driving rain and up the steps to a large porch filled with potted plants and a wooden swing swinging in the wind at the far left as it curved around the side. The porch framed a large house – the one that I had seen through the trees every time lightening lit up the sky. I could still hear the bell in my head at times and see it swinging on the hook beside the massive front door casting a gleam as it swung showing off roses engraved on the surface gleaming in the moments when lightening lighted the sky. On the day that I returned home, these thoughts ran like a broken record through my head as I worked in the gardens with mom avoiding her eyes whenever possible. I wanted to tell her and then again, I wondered, did she already know? Also questions such as how did I get back in Baby? Who was this woman and what did she mean when she said, “I’ve been worried?” Worried about what? Who? Baby was clean all over – no mud. I also showed no sign of being drenched in a storm and no part of my legs or feet were muddy. My hat was dry and still sitting in the back seat. And just when I thought that I was losing my mind, I saw it. A thin thread of mud laced one small pleat on the hem of my robe. Yes! I folded it mud and all and put it in a box that I slid under my bed. The memory of the woman’s blue eyes and the fire behind her came to me in dreams for a while and then faded away. But the thought stayed with me and although I never went up that highway that I didn’t find myself scanning the trees on the left for the road through the trees I could never find one.

I was learning that thoughts came into my mind’s eye without being called. After the “Wool Brothers incident” and the uproar it caused I made up my mind that if I would get control of it and put it stop to it. Having a “knowing” as Grandma Alice called it hadn’t been good for me .I decided that the only way to squash it would be to leave the cove and get as far away as I could. So I began making my plans. First of all, I stopped entering competitions at school for fear of being accused of being a witch. I tried to stay in the background at school and against my family’s wishes I quit the debate team, choir, student council, leaders club, and volleyball. I still participated in school but if something came up such as picking new school colors or something, I submitted anonymously. I did not want to cause any more trouble. It was a lonely time for me but it worked to some extent in that I no longer got egged, the telephone harassment only happened after school parties that of course, I wasn’t invited and to my knowledge the town talk about witchcraft connected to the Anderson women died down.

I turned my attention to college even though it was still two years away and began sending applications in to all of the state colleges that had design schools and building my portfolio with Aunt Cappy’s help. And one day in my senior year, “The Letter” came in the mail box down the lane from our cottage. In it was a letter congratulating me on being awarded the Paul Martin Design Scholarship to the Vermont University, the most prestigious school in the state school in Fiber Arts and Fashion Design. I was elated. Jerome had been awarded a design scholarship to the Vermont School of Art and Design and Marcella was awarded a scholarship to the School of Culinary Arts in Burlington. It was my turn. My letter was passed around from cottage to cottage and everyone cheered. I was excited but a little bit nervous because I had never been that far away from home for long periods

My whole family and I knew that they thought that I would be coming home someday and be one of the “Anderson ladies of the cove”. And truth be told, I wanted to, I really really wanted to, but I knew that I couldn’t. I had already caused too many horrible things to happen to all of them. It was hard to explain and they wouldn’t listen when I tried.

After the announcement in the local news of all of the scholarship recipients, the name-calling started again with accusations that we had put a spell on the VU and began a campaign to send a letter to the school telling them. I tried to ignore Donna and her minions even though they went back to calling me a witch and egging Baby as we drove by. They even rubbed eggs in my hair when they caught me alone and other disgusting things. I decided to stay home from the senior prom even though I had designed a dress that I loved but after the attacks I thought that none of my pals would feel safe going with me even though they all denied especially Mazie and I didn’t want to be there by myself. Tommy said I could go with him but I didn’t want him to have bad things happen to him so I turned him down. But I was coerced into going to graduation by everyone in my family. Jerome and Marcella were the ones who finally threatened to tie me up and dump me on the stage if I didn’t go. “Stop thinking only of your self Jo Jo. This isn’t about YOU! Give all of us the benefit of watching you get that trophy!” Okay okay. They were talking about the scholarship I thought but actually somehow they knew that I WAS getting a trophy: I was awarded the Student of the Year for designing a new school logo and creating and producing a school banner. I was stunned as the class and all of the audience stood and gave me a standing ovation –even the Holt family. It pulled at my heartstrings but still I was afraid of what might happen next as retaliation.

After graduation, my family held a big graduation party for me and I was surprised that a lot of people actually came even a lot of my school friends. It turned into a wonderful afternoon and for a moment, I wondered if I began having second thoughts.I heard people asking my grandma Alice if I was going to join Cappy someday but I didn’t hear her reply. Then two women made a comment about feeling better after eating form Aunt Maggie’s party buffet and then winking at each other and all thoughts of staying vanished. Early the next morning I packed up and headed out of the cove. My family waved their good byes and blew kisses. I waved to them out of the window of my green sedan, my graduation gift. I was leaving everything behind – even Baby. There was a huge lump in my throat because I knew that I would never return to this wonderful place to stay. I could see the butterflies swirling in the air and all of the spring flowers waving in the breeze in my rear vision mirror as if they were saying farewell.

The University of Vermont was 4 hours away and the road leading up that way was the same one that I was on that night in the storm. I glanced at the tree line for a ways as I drove up the highway. It was woods all around and maybe that road had gotten overgrown, I thought. No matter, I will find it someday, I promised myself. I thought of the box under my bed at home. I knew what I knew.

College was not that difficult to navigate but still it was so different from what I was used to. For one thing, I had to do everything for myself much to my dismay I found I wasn’t that good at it. But I had made the decision to come here so I needed to get a grip. I put on my hat.The upside was that where I was known as the “girl who can sew funky clothes,” not to mention “the girl who is a witch” in high school, I was pretty much invisible here in collage. And I loved it. All of the other students in my classes were talented in all kinds of designs. I wasn’t special – just one of the class. The downside was that guilt plagued me and I knew there was no way I could call my family for help when I needed them or just wanted to talk after what I had done to them in exposing them and their magic. But that’s not to say that I didn’t like college. My scholarship was big enough to cover all of my needs including art supplies plus a little left over for my apartment. I talked my mom and dad into letting me get one rather stays in a dorm and I found a small nook of an apartment in the attic of an old house. I made friends with the occupants. At times, Iwas lonely and called home! I was determined to prove that I could make it on my own to both them and to myself!

Life went on. I spent most of my time in the studio on campus. It was wonderful! I could spend hours at the drawing board with my earphones on. I had trained myself back in high school to stay in the background and I found it difficult to join in with the other design students. And ideas literally floated off my drawing paper. My quirky ideas could get quirkier here – there was freedom in expression (actually the moto over our design studio door.) And the campus was beautiful, hilly and covered in trees that changed into brilliant colors as the leaves began to fall. The beauty of the campus gave me zillions of ideas and sometimes I felt like I couldn’t keep up with my own mind. At the end of the first semester, I was called into the office of the Department Chair and my professor and was told by then that as unique and creative as my designs were; I needed to be reminded that I needed to take academics more seriously if I wanted to stay in school. I doubled up on my classes because try as I might I just couldn’t let go of my art and design classes to make room for my academics so I just took both.

One day in the cold of the winter, someone pulled out my earphones and said, “Hey is there anyone in there?” I jumped. Smiling down at me was the tall guy with the mustache in my class. Dusty was holding out his hand to me beckoning me to join him and several others. “We’re all going to Bernie’s. Take a break woman. “

I started to protest but everyone started chanting, “Josie, Josie, Josie!” So I gave up, grabbed my parka, and off we went to the campus hangout. We laughed and complained about professors. It was a good time.

Vicky, the girl with the purple hair, leaned forward and said, “We have all been wanting to ask you Josie. Where do you get all of those amazing hats?” Everyone chimed in as I told them that my grandma Alice was a hat maker. Wishful sighs and swoons as

Penny, another student, voiced what everyone else was probably thinking, “Oh to have a grandmother who makes hats!” and After that, I was a part of the group – an awesome group. You could always tell the artist on campus because of their weird hair, paint brushes behind their ears, and paint splattered lab coats. We stood out and liked it that way. One day our favorite teachers called us all Rookies and that became our name as in a text” “Rookies meet on the common – 8!” Something else began to occur.

Dusty began staying late and walking me back to my apartment and we became an “item.” Life was good. I began calling home once a week.

It was in my junior year that odd things began to happen. There had been some things that may be construed to be weird before such as Grandma calling me to tell me not to drive my car and when I had it checked, the brakes had been tampered with and then the tires were slashed after that but of course I knew it before I drove it because Grandma told me. I began blurting out things without thinking such as “did your sister have her baby yet?” She didn’t even know that her sister was pregnant. And similar things like, “How do you like your new truck?” It was sitting in their parking spot as a birthday gift and they didn’t know about it yet. And others. I had done stuff like this all of my life I realized now but it seemed more apparent to others. Of course I came up with excuses and we all laughed at the “coincidence.” I was going to have to try harder. This was a part of me that wouldn’t do me any good if others knew about the truth of it. Dusty met me after class and asked me to have a sandwich with him which was weird because both of us were always broke and basically lived on PBJ’s.

He steered me into a small coffee shop and we made our way to the back booth. That’s where he told me that he had been getting anonymous phone calls for awhile and so had all of the other Rookies. Someone was saying the same old things from high school – that I was a witch and so was my family and that we had done bad things to others with our magic blah blah blah. He said, “Crazy, right? I didn’t tell you because it was so insane and I didn’t want to scare you.” Tears were now flowing down my face and dripping off of my chin. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I started to slide out of the booth but he blocked me. “Do you know what this is about?”

I sat there sobbing and he held my hand. I finally told him that my family were all artisans (we had talent and skill) in some way and had done business in the town for decades – maybe even longer. I told him about Donna and her family who had, for some reason, seemingly resented us and thatt we were never able to understand.

“So they bullied you? Worse?” He asked.

All I could do was nod. Words would not come out of my mouth. He looked at me with such understanding in his eyes.”Okay this has gone far enough. We need to tell the others and I will see if there’s anything we can do about the phone calls.” (There wasn’t.) He gave me a hug. “Don’t worry Josie.” (If he only knew). One thing about that day in the coffee shop that was the icing on the cake: He never asked me if it were true. I’m not sure what I would have said.

Members of my family would come to campus at times and load me up with goodies and I would go home on holidays and a few times in the summer although I knew they could use my help, I didn’t stay long. Of course, I always left with a box of pies, a new hat, bouquets of flowers, and some wonderful new fabric and sometimes a new thimble or tape measure or pin cushion. My friends, the Rookies were always happy when I came back especially with the pies.

The voice messages slowly stopped with Dusty and the rest of the Rookies. But I began getting notes stuck on my apartment door that read, “I know who you are and I know what you do. Not long now.” They would always find me, kept going through my head. And then again I countered, a written note might hurt but that was about it so I wadded them up and threw them away. A mistake. Other things happened such as I kept thinking I saw Marcella in a crowd or across a crowded street. Once I even was sure I saw Jerome riding up in the glass elevator in our building. I jumped in the next one but he wasn’t at the top. I was losing my mind. Sometimes I would smell one of Aunt Maggy’s pies and rush home, take it out of my freezer and share it with Dusty as our whole supper. I always felt better after that.

Things got worse. My teacher received a message that someone was waiting for me in the school commons and I needed to go as soon as possible. I rushed to get my coat and sitting on top of it was my latest hat from grandma Alice, a dark navy blue baker boy with white and grey feathers on the side. Seriously I knew then that either I had totally lost it because I knew for sure that I didn’t bring it that day OR Grandma Alice was trying to tell me something. “Okay,” I thought, “Grandma Alice I’ll play your game,” As I neared the Commons, I had a horrible feeling that something was very wrong and I began shouting “Get off the walk, get off the walk!” Everyone turned to look at me. Nothing. And then crashing over the curb and veering through the Commons straight at us came a delivery truck with the driver passed out on the steering wheel. It crossed the path right where I had been walking and crashed into a brick wall. For a moment everyone screamed and scattered and then turned and ran back to pull the driver out of the truck. It burst into flames. Fire trucks and police car sirens came howling around the corners and soon everyone was huddled in groups talking to them and pointing at me. Oh boy. They took me inside a police car and ask me a slew of questions such as, “So how did you know the truck was coming? When did you know it was going to hit you? Did you know the driver?”

And something told me to simply say, “I don’t know.” And they finally stopped their questioning and let me go home. It was past 6:00 pm, a stiff coldness covered the sidewalks. I had chosen to walk that morning and now I was sorry that I did. “Hey.” And there was Dusty. “Hey I heard something happened in the Commons. Do you know anything about it?” I was tempted to give him the “I don’t know,” but I didn’t. We talked and walked across campus to my little attic apartment and all I could think of was that I was positive that Grandma Alice and her magical hat had saved my life.

I emailed Jerome and asked him if he been on campus. “Are you crazy? I am up to my knickers in deadlines!” Jerome was working for a coat designer and making a name for himself in the metro and seriously I wanted to say yes (about being crazy) but I didn’t. Why start something? Marcella was in culinary school and getting ready to graduate and start her apprenticeship to be a chef so I was sure she wasn’t coming to campus and neither one would come without telling me. I was being silly. Still, they had tricked me before. One thing that could have ruined my college degree and that was that I had missed a deadline because I never got the memo because it had been removed from the board outside our classroom. Someone was sabotaging me! My friends began to check with me to make sure I knew what was coming up and at first it was surprising how many I had missed in the past and didn’t even know it. And then one morning I heard something outside my door, and when I opened it nobody was there.

On my way down the stairs, my neighbor, a piano teacher on the 2nd floor, opened her door just as I was going past and stopped me.”Josie, wait a minute. There was a young man in a hoodie outside your door when I came in about midnight and he was still there this morning when I picked up my mail. I think I just saw him running down the stairs. I couldn’t see his face. But he dropped this and I’m sorry but I read it. I think you should see it. “Die Witch!” was written in bold letters.

I froze.

“Do you think you should call the police?”

“I don’t think it would do any good Polly, but thanks!”

“Let me know if there is anything at all I can do.”

And then as I headed up the stairs, she spoke again, “Oh he dropped this too, “ and she handed me a door key. Dusty’s door key. What? I was crushed. I ran into my apartment, threw myself across my bed and had a meltdown. And when I came up for breath, there was a distinct pounding on my door.

It was Dusty.

“Hey I came by last night late after I left the lab and there was a note on your door. It was threatening. I knocked but you didn’t answer so I decided to wait outside your door in case the guy who left the note came back. I ended up just sleeping all night out here in the hall. By the way, where were you? I was worried.”

“I didn’t hear you,” I mumbled. “ I had on my earphones – so sorry!”

“I don’t have the note - I must have dropped it when I ran to class this morning. I thought it might be here. Did you see it? Say have you seen my key? I’m missing it too.”

I was working at my drafting table with my headphones on until the wee hours. So while he was protecting me out in the hallway on the hard cold floor, I was in my cozy apartment unaware that he was there and all because somebody who hated me for whatever reason, had left me a threatening note.

In 3rd year my department began to submit my drawings along with others in my class to big design houses and by the end of the year, replies were coming back – some good and some “sorry your work does not fit our mission.” By the beginning of 4th year, big design studios began to call. Every time one of the Rookies got a bid from a studio, we all met at Bernies to celebrate. The wheel turned and another autumn and then Halloween came and went and another. .We all dressed up in wild and crazy costumes and danced in the Commons, designated “Spook Hollar” for the occasion, to music by the Blues Boys, a popular campus group, knowing that this was our last Halloween. Dusty and I made a pact that wherever the other one went and no matter how far apart we were, we would always be together and someday, who knew? It was unsaid. I couldn’t think about it. I loved him.

College came to an end. All of the Rookies excelled and got jobs or apprenticeship offers and each time we all celebrated at Bernie’s Dusty was the king of the group with his offer to a fashion house in Paris. A dream job. I accepted an offer of a job/apprenticeship with Eclectic Spice Chic in Chicago and all of the others were heading to new places and new lives. We were scattering and there was some sadness and excitement at our graduation. My family came early and showered me with love and presents and gifts of money. I was going to need it. I could see their smiling faces and I knew that they wanted me to come back to the cove which at times, I longed to do. And then I heard my name as I was called to the stage with my friends so that we could all be honored for the offers we had received form major fashion houses. I looked out into the audience and for a moment I could see tiny sparkling stars and butterflies and hear mandolins as the cove seemed to fade. This was my chance. The big design studios in the city are calling and I have to go. Surely they will understand. Right?

New York and all of its sounds and smells with people rushing in all directions and more cars than I had ever seen grabbed me up and spit me out in the garment district on the sidewalk outside of one of the tallest buildings I had ever seen. As I rode the elevator up to the 45th floor, my heart was in my throat. I had forgotten my hat that day so I put a strong look on my face (I hoped). I was riding the glory train. No matter that I was the lowest paid junior graphic designer (not a full fledged designer yet) and shared a small cubbyhole of an office on another floor than the design studio. I felt like I was on top of the world – sort of! Letters went back forth from me and Dusty. He was also on the bottom level of his design house but he seemed to be struggling. Then a dress that I submitted for approval was picked up by the head designer and suddenly I am off to the races! My first design was featured in a small article in Fashion Room Magazine but I was shocked to see that my boss’ name was signed on it. Hale the department assistant to the head designer and I had met on the elevator one day and became friends at the water fountain. He saw me looking at the board and leaned over and whispered, “They always take credit for the work of the juniors. Not fair but...,” and looking over his shoulder with a grimace, went on his way. I pinned the article to my wall. I kept working late hours and spending my lunch hours walking the streets of the Garment District checking out windows for a peek into the big world of fashion. It always inspired me and I would go back to work invigorated. My designs were being picked more and more as time went by and as before, my boss always took credit for them. I tried not to let it bother me but I will admit holding back on some that I wasn’t ready to share.

As for Dusty, his early struggle in his design house was over apparently. His letters were more sporadic and when they came, they were written as if in a hurry with a promise to write longer ones next time. He also always apologized for sending fewer letters but explained that he was very busy. He said he would see me at Christmas. During the first year apart, we had written to each other every week but now weeks may go by without one. One evening after work, Hale met me at Harrigan’s, a deli close by to celebrate the end of the week. We liked to commiserate the fact that neither one of us had home cooked meals or even a cat to be waiting for us in our small apartments. Hale was from Wisconsin and had a girlfriend back home so we had things other than work to talk about. That night, I told him about Dusty and about the letters coming later and later and he reminded me that in this business we really need to expect that relationships don’t always last. And then he went on to talk about other things but I really wasn’t listening. He thought he was being helpful but I remember crying myself to sleep that night. I almost called Dusty in Paris in the middle of the night but I stopped right before dialing. Come on Josie, I said to myself. I am broke! Long distance calls are expensive! Give the guy a break. He said he is busy and he is! I was glad later that I didn’t.

A couple of days later, I received my Alum Newsletter in my mail box. There on the front page above the fold was Dusty, a big smile across his face, walking the red carpet in a show during Fashion Week in Paris with a beautiful dark headed slender girl (obviously a model) clinging to his arm and gazing adoringly up at him. And it was then that I stopped answering his mail. He even called on the phone but when the operator asked me if I would accept the call, I said, “No, tell the caller I don’t talk to married men,” and hung up. He might not be married but it looked like he was heading that way!

I was angry and not just about being jilted. Things got worse. When my boss told me that someone was waiting to see me in the small bird sanctuary across the street, I thought, “oh boy here we go again, Donna and her pals are going to send another truck to run over me. No thanks!” But I did look out my office window. There was a lone person standing by a tree so maybe not a truck this time, I thought, maybe just a mugger! I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction! Then I saw a notice on the board about another award that Sheila had been awarded for one of my designs and I abruptly turned and marched right into her office. She looked up at me with a mix of annoyance and surprise. “What is it Jolene, hmmm?”

My name is JOSIE, I heard myself say. I heard a voice in my mind, say “caution Josie,” so I softened my voice a tiny bit, cleared my throat and started over. “I feel that after 2 years, I deserve recognition not to mention payment for my work.” (I didn’t plan to say anything about money).

“YOUR work? She chuckled. “My dear YOU work for ME and EVERYTHING you do belongs to this firm. Go back and read the contract that you signed if you don’t believe me. Now get out of my office and go back to your work bench wherever it is and GET BACK TO WORK!” I hesitated. “NOW!” She screamed. I felt like a mouse scuttling back to my little hole. Everyone in the room had gotten quiet and all were looking down at their drawing boards as though they hadn’t heard. But news spreads fast.

I went down the stairs and into my little office holding back tears.

“Go ahead Josie,“ one of my officemates said to me under her breath. I looked at her in question.

“Go ahead, cry.”

And I did. I sat there as the evening fell outside my window and I could hear all of the elevators going down as people scattered for home. I have always comforted myself with dreams of opening my own shop just like Aunt Cappy’s back in the cove with the sound of bees in the grass and the buzz of sewing machines inside. I pulled on my coat and taking the stairs opened the side door to the alley and walked through the streets to my apartment. Visions of the cover – the cottages, the pond, and then the faces of Marcella and Jerome. They bent down towards me and I heard a voice, “Josie, don’t be a sissy! Stop crying! You can do this!” I sat up in bed, swung my feet over the side and walking across the cold wooden floor of the attic room, sat down at my little work table and turned on the light. I made a plan and the next day I put it into action. I started my new idea designs at home on my time and while at work I still worked but only submitted the ones that I didn’t want. I had lost my zing for Eclectic Spice Chic or ESC.

It was if the light had gone off in my head. Now the street sounds were too loud, the odors from food vendors were too strong, and furthermore, Dusty could go fly a kite!

Hale tapped on my door after lunch the next day and without being asked stepped into our little mouse hole (as I was calling my office now). “Guess what?” Then without waiting for me to answer, “You have been chosen to be on the design team for the Eclectic Extravaganza! You Josie! YOU!” Everyone jumped up from their boards and in that tiny room, we hugged each other and danced, happiness filled the air.

Two days later, movers came in and moved my pallet, my board and lamps and all of my supplies to the Design Studio and put them on a proper table with my name on a gold plaque on the back of a stool. I didn’t think of the cove except in passing from then on. Like Dusty, I was too busy. The only thing on my mind was the show, the deadlines and collaborating with “real” designers – people who actually knew what they were doing. (Aunt Cappy crowded into my thoughts at time but I closed her out.)My mind took flight. Visions of spectacular garments in bright and contrasting even clashing colors bombarded me and flowed right out of my pens. I allowed myself to be buried in the process and sometimes didn’t go back to my little apartment for several days. But when I did, there would always be sour milk in the refrigerator, dried up plants in my pots, messages blinking on the answering machine (this was my one extravagance) but I would ignore them and fall into bed with my coat on. The next morning I would jump out of bed, telling myself that I would take care of everything soon. Phone calls began to arrive at work from home and notes would pile up on my drawing board but although I cared, I was too busy. I would get to them later, I told Hale when he questioned me about them. The show is two days away. And then it was one day away. And then the show burst on the scene and I will never forget it, I thought. And all of us in the studio stayed late excitedly waiting for the reports coming back – each one of us hoping that our designs were chosen to be shown on the main runways or even noticed. Hale showed me pictures of my designs mixed in with the top designs from other design houses and they were spotlighted front and center. I was on top of the world. Then the final night of the Fashion Week and all of us designers were allowed into the show. We stood in the back watching as the last models walked the runway. My design closed the show with its chartreuse and hot pink ruffles over a split skirt and a backless bodice. People stood and clapped and my peers hugged me. Then reporters buzzed around the fashion world icons including Sheila. As she stepped to the microphone , she beckoned to Hale whispering in his ear and then to my amazement, he turned and looked straight at me and motioned me to join them on dais. My head swelled with pride, I could feel my heart beating out of my chest as cameras flashed. “Look at me now!” I said to myself. Hale took my hand and helped me up on the platform and Sheila draped her arm across my shoulders. Cameras flashed and questions were thrown at them. Sheila leaned close and whispered in my ear, “don’t say a word dear. I will take care of this.” And as I stood there, she began to speak. And then what came out of her mouth stabbed me like an arrow. She described how honored she was for their recognition and said that all of her work was inspired by years of work in the field and her insight that she was born with. She then proceeded to take all of the credit for my work and calling them a result of her (Sheila’s calling) as amazing and brilliant and then turning to me and in a patronizing voice said, “Please take a bow Josie. After all you did help me. Please give her a hand,” There was a small patter of hands then before the applause ended, “Now run along. I am sure you want to do whatever young people do” and I was dismissed like an errant child. As I left the room I could hear her describing how she gets her insight from “the heavens.”

“All of my work! Everything that I’ve given up just to have everything stolen from me. I realized now that she didn’t hire me to “help me grow into my own” as she show glowingly said as she welcomed me into her firm. I believed her and all she wanted from me was what I could produce and then she cast me aside” Now run along.” I could hear Hale calling out to me but I just kept running. I grabbed my jacket and satchel from under my chair, yanked all of my drawings of the boards and whatever else I could see and stuffed it all in.

“Stop Josie, Think this through. Don’t go.” Hales voice followed me down the back stairs to the street.

“I have to. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow but right now I’ve got to get out of here,” I choked through sobs.

Bars and restaurants up and down the street were lit up and overflowing with the sounds of laughter of those celebrating Fashion Week. I could see our crew through the window of Clancy’s, our hangout as I hurried by. Many had left earlier in the day to skip the show and had started partying hours ago. They sat clinking their glasses in victory toasting each other around the big table in the window. “Join us,” they mouthed but ignored them. This was a big night for ESC. It was the fashion house toast of the town. And me? I was only a tiny light that blinked and then went out. It was a low point that night. I felt stupid for believing that I could ever be a designer. I realized the hard work that it had taken Aunt Cappy to achieve her status in the world of fashion. I hadn’t even talked to her about anything for months. I saw the blinking light on my answering machine but I was too exhausted to deal with it now. I heard myself say “Where is everybody when I need them” knowing that I was actually the one who left them not the other way around. I fell across my bed and then darkness.

I was dreaming that someone was trying to wake me and when was able to rouse someone was pounding on my door. Hale”s voice was shouting“ Josie, Josie,OPEN THE DOOR!” I opened the door a crack but he pushed it open and thrusts the morning news in my face. A picture of herself and Sheila on the platform last night filled the front page with the caption SOMETHING FISHY in FASHION! The article started out with the question, “Is ESC REALLY EPIC? It seems that some of its runaway sensations look suspiciously like designs from another designer that were actually being held back for spring. Questions are being thrown around in the industry today asking “who is to blame and also who stole from who – adding ” if they ARE actually copies.” After all they are not EXACTLY the same but very close, quoted from an insider. Scandle in the fashion world with the spotlight on ESC.”

“Sheila is in a rage and screaming. She wants you to explain. She’s saying that you betrayed her and ESC and she is accusing you of trying to ruin her. I stood there in shock. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “ DON’T JUST STAND THERE!”, her commanded, “ WE’VE GOT TO GO!” I tried to think. Hale was racing around my little apartment grabbing my satchel, my coat and I grabbed the black beret on its hook by the door.

I tried to get my thoughts together. They couldn’t be talking about MY designs. I would never copy from anybody. Hale opened the door and we rushed down to the curb to hail a cab. For the past months I had spent all of my time in the studio – never going out for lunch with my coworkers – never even calling home – never even looking in a mirror. I was so determined to put my ideas into cloth and show Sheila that I worth her notice. There’s been a mistake. Once she sees my drawings, I reasoned, surely she will see from her drawings that these designs are definitely NOT COPIES. I settled down a bit.

But as I entered the big design studio, I could see that gathered around my work table were all of the head designers of the firm and in front and center was Sheila red-faced and glaring sand a couple of men with briefcases that she had never met. They had all of her work spread out before her. A short man with a mustache and horned rimmed glasses stood by Sheila patting her arm as if to calm her. On the table in front of him lay the specs they were comparing with mine. I adjusted my beret and stepped closer so that I could see them myself. The designs were not exactly the same but similar even to the button placement and the dips in the hems on one dress. “Did someone copy some of the details from ME? But I couldn’t think of a time that anyone could have seen them outside of my case. It was always locked beside my table. Or...”Her mind was swirling as she remembered the day that the idea for this piece had come to her. She and Hale had been invited to lunch by Sheila to meet “their competitor Iris Hoffman from Alive Incorporated.” They hadn’t even talked about fashion or design that day. Only small talk around the lunch table. Had she picked up something from that designer that day?”

“Don’t take off your coat! You won’t be staying long,” commanded Sheila.

“Do you mind if I ask,” I heard myself speak up, “the name of the designer that you think I copied from?’

“Iris Hoffman!”boomed Sheila before the little man with the glasses could stop her.

“That’s not true. I have never even seen her work. And everyone knows that many styles are similar to others – but they are NOT copies!” I blurted out but I could feel hot tears start to fall. In this industry designs were many times, similar. But deep down I already guessed that it could be possible that I had picked up Iris’s thoughts that day without knowing it. I began to babble out the differences in the items but I could see that they were not listening.

Plus I was pretty sure it was true. This was just like the Wool Brothers incident. I HAD copied but without my knowledge. How could this happen again? But I already knew the answer. I am who I am. I have to stop running from that fact. I stood there speechless as everyone seemed to wait, as I watched my dream of stardom in the big city fade. I was numb and then I heard a small voice in my head ask, “Stardom in the big city? Josie was that really your dream?”

I was shown out of the room. I headed down to my mouse hole office. They were already boxing up my belongings and Mr. Attorney handed me his card with the words, “We will be contacting you.” I bundled up my mail. And then they ushered me out to the street. It was raining hard. Some of my friends were already down on the street and all telling me to get an attorney and saying that they would all vouch for me because of course I was innocent. Innocent? Hale took the handle of my pull cart and splashed along trying to keep up. I hurried along In a daze, almost getting hit by a car, walking into newsstand and I heard someone calling her, “Hey you dropped something,” through the sound of her brain Hale’s voice was loud and clear. “HEY!”

He handed her a rain-soaked letter with her mother’s handwriting on the front. This was the letter that she had stuffed in her purse several days ago. She didn’t want to open it but he stood looking down at her with a look. It said

Dear Josie

Granma is dying. Please come home. Please hurry.

It won’t be long.

Love

~Mom

“Miss, Miss, Miss!

Suddenly I was jolted awake by someone shaking me and shouting, “Miss, miss! You are going to miss your stop!” I had been in the deepest of sleep dreaming Technicolor dreams. But now in a split second the dream faded away and reality came crashing down and I was back on the train trying to wake up. I tottered to my feet, grabbing my bag as I stumbled down the aisle and was whooshed out onto the platform as the door slammed behind me and with a whistle, the train chugged out of the station. I looked around at the empty platform and realized that nobody knew that I was coming so how was I going to get home? It was dripping wet and cold. One solitary light hung from an ancient light pole. I thought I could hear my name whispered and then a gust of warm wind, and around the corner on two wheels, a yellow taxi pulled up beside me. The short cabby jumped out, grabbed my bag and the next thing I knew I was whizzing through Middleton towards the Cove and Grandma Alice. “Please be there Grandma....”.

The taxi sped down the highway and turned into the path leading to the cove. I could see the garden lights leading up to the doors of the cottages. A light rain fell.

I’m home, I thought. The taxi had arrived at Grammas cottage. I glanced at my watch. It was after 4:00 am but there were a few lights on inside the house.

Back to real time. Out of the taxi window, I could see the small walkway lights leading up to her door.

The cabbie swung opened the door and offered me his hand. I jumped out of the cab and ran stumbling over the cobblestone walk. When I reached the big doors, I pushed my way inside. The room was empty, although cozy with the door to the hat shop on the left closed tight. Where was everyone? The fire was crackling, in the fireplace and the air felt close and slightly too warm. I hurried down the hallway thinking a jumble of “Am I too late, are you still here? Please don’t leave, my darling grandma, I’m sorry, so so sorry.” Light shown under the bedroom door and I opened it to reveal my family gathered around her in her beautiful room with the roses on the wallpaper, a fluffy pink and baby blue quilt on her large soft bed. Faces swung to take me in. They looked flushed in the candlelight and their eyes were spilling over with tears. Sadness was heavy. Mom sat by Grandma Alice’s pillow ,holding her hand in the dim light.. My mother looked at me as though she knew I was coming and turned and leaned in to Grandma,” Mom, she’s here.” Grandmas eyes sprung open to look directly at me. Mom beckoned me to come closer and I leaned over the bed and began kissing her soft cheeks and rosebud lips. Tears washed down over my face like a waterfall falling onto hers. She put her hand on my head and softly patted me.

“Grandma, please don’t go,” I started, but she stopped me.

“Josie, my darling girl, look at me now,” She commanded. I stopped and gasped at the sound of her soft voice, “Your gift is within your heart. “

“It is a part of me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Forever.” Her voice was so soft that I could barely hear her. “You will see a beam, flutter hard. Hard! And FOLLOW wherever it goes. Beware. Evil is close at hand. I will be with you in the morning lane and always. Listen and you will hear my voice, Josieeee.”

And then with a whiff of roses, tiny stars filled the room causing the air to shimmer. The soft sound of mandolins, and she was gone. The room was still for

a moment and then everyone spoke in a whisper, “Good bye good bye.” And then sobs. Darkness prevailed in the hearts of those in the cottage as the morning sun began to light the sky in pinks and blues and golds and purples. Days went slowly by.

Funeral arrangements were made. I helped but somehow felt like an outsider who had returned after a long journey. The hat shop’s windows were shuttered for now. All of us Andersons chose one of her hats to wear to the funeral. Mine was a dark wine-colored wide-brimmed fedora with a dark rose velvet band carrying velvet pink roses (Grandma’s favorite). Marcella’s hat was a cinnamon colored gaucho xander that dipped on one side to show off her fiery red hair. My mom and my aunts wore a variety. Aunt Maggie wore a pleated and veiled newsboy hat-caps. Mom wore a grey panama covered in white lilies, and Aunt Cappy wore a big-brim floppy hat with a veil in black with blood colored roses. Grandma Alice had essentially dressed us all for her funeral. I found that after the funeral, I literally lived with that hat. I slept with it. If it was not wearing it was near me. I was wore it whenever I ventured it. It hid me under its wide brim but most of all; it covered me with the feel and fragrance of her.

Folks from miles around began showing their respect and love for Grandma by bringing flowers. One autumn day on the day of her funeral people arrived in cars, on bikes, on foot to move slowly into the cove to gather in the woods at the far side of the pond to give her a final farewell at her funeral. She was buried back in the trees on a knoll by a brook that fed off of the pond into the woods. White flowers sprang up around her grave the next day. Sadness prevailed. I saw Donna and her family at the funeral and was infuriated that they would show their faces. Marcella and Jerome closed in around me and whispered, “Peace Josie, let it go.” Later as people were leaving, I saw her coming towards me as if to speak but I turned and escaped into the woods until I thought she was gone.

Soon slowly slowly life began to turn and our cove was again filled with groups of people shopping for flowers or pies or dresses. The sound of laughter could be heard again with the sound of geese heading south for the winter.

One morning, my mom called me to the table where she had fixed me a poached egg with cubes of bread just like I liked. I knew what was coming. Dad was at work so it was just mom and I. She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers, “What happened Josie? Why aren’t you going back to New York?” And so I told her my whole story even though I was sure that she already knew most of it. Plus she would fill in the gaps when I missed something, giving herself away. As we talked my aunts began to arrive one by one.

When I came to a stop, it was already time for lunch. Aunt Maggie opened her basket and served bowls of hot cheese and vegetable soup and cucumber and sprout sandwiches with her homemade corn wafers and guacamole. Aunt Cappy was the first to talk. “Okay girls, lets go to New York! We’ve got work to do! Mom chimed in with, “I vote that we take my flower delivery truck and Aunt Maggy added“I will bring lunch! Everyone starting helping out by having my apartment in New York subleased. We made a trip one weekend in mom’s van and we packed up my stuff. The fall fashions were all over the stores. I recognized a few of mine in the windows and could feel myself tense up. “Give them to them my love,” my mom whispered. Give them away (referring to my designs).

“You have more where those came from and 10 times – no 100 times better,” added Aunt Cappy. I was back. I was a part of the cove as one of the Anderson ladies. It felt good.

It was a happy trip and we all sang in the van on the way home. I thought I would be sad leaving New York but it was more like wistful. I wondered what was going on at Epic and how my friends, especially Hale were doing. He had called several times and now I needed to call him back.

Grandma had left us all with a sizeable lump of money which I wasn’t expecting. Immediately, I took my check and headed into town and straight to the bank to arrange for a deposit. I had not walked down Main street for awhile and I could see some changes had been made. One of them was a new coffee shop and I made a decision to stop there on my way home. As I entered the bank, I saw that there were several new faces at the bank including Mazie’s who was now an assistant manager. She came hurrying towards me and gave me a hug. We chatted briefly making plans to get together soon. As I finished my business and started to walk out the door, she caught up with me and said, “Say, I have something to tell you about Donna but I’ll tell you when we get together,” she squeezed my hand and I stepped out onto the street.

“Hey Josie!” Looking up I saw Tommy hurrying towards me. “Come on, let me buy you a coffee.” It was so good to see him. He had been at Grandma Alice’s funeral with his mom, Florence I had shied away from everyone that day, not wanting to talk to anyone. We chatted over our coffees. He had changed from a boy to a man and he seemed different somehow. He still had a boyish look but his hair had changed from red to auburn and all of his freckles seemed to have faded. He asked me what I was going to do now. It seems he knew about my firing in New York. And I heard myself say that I may join Cappy in her studio. And I wondered why I had said that. I hadn’t really thought about it. And before I could process what I had just said, Tommy said, “What happened to your plans to open your own studio?”

It turned out that Tommy was a realtor now and he turned the conversation to the possibility of starting a business and renting an office big enough. I sat and listened as he described the ins and outs of being in business for yourself. He then began asking me questions about what kind of place would I need – how big, and what price I could afford. By the time we finished, my head was swirling and I was beginning to think it might even be possible. After all, I had just inherited some money. We promised to get together again and then as I was walking away, I turned and called out, “Tommy! Wait up.” For some reason I told him about my experience on that night of the storm way back when I was in high school and run away from the fairy circle although I didn’t tell him that part. “I wonder if that lady would be ready to sell her house. She seemed quite old and that’s been years ago. She may have already moved away. Do you know of any property that sounds like this?” I asked.

“No, but I will do some digging and get back to you,” He said. I could see why he was in sales. He was good at it. I thought about it all the way back to the cove. My mind was on fire and ideas were darting through my head. I couldn’t wait to open some of my boxes and dig out my story board so that I could start a new one.

It was a couple of weeks before I heard from him again. “Hey Jojo, I think I have found the house you were talking about but seriously it is in bad shape. It’s not something that I even want to show you.”

“You are wrong! Yes I DO want to see it. Where is it? Tell me where it is and I will go see it myself!”

His voice took on a tone and stated flatly. “NO! I wouldn’t think of it. I shouldn’t have even told you about it.....it might be dangerous to go out there. People have seen things and..he started but I cut him off.

“Okay, then I will find it myself! But thanks Tommy for doing the legwork. At least I know it might exist. See you.” And hung up. The phone immediately rang again..

“Okay okay. I’ll come by and pick you up....after lunch” and he hung up. I was ready, standing down the lane in front of the flower shop entrance with my jacket and camera. I was excited to talk to that sweet lady who lived there and find out what had happened that night.

It turned out that I had always been looking for it further away than it was. The road that it was on was only minutes up the road. The road itself was actually a narrow lane that was almost totally overgrown with brush and trees. It couldn’t be seen from the road but Tommy had found it earlier and he turned his car into the narrow lane. I rolled my window down so that I could see it better and I heard the ringing of that bell on the porch. But the house was set way back from the road around a curve. It looked like it had been standing there empty for years and was in terrible disrepair.

“No, this can’t be it,” I turned to Tommy. “The house I was in was in perfect condition – a woman lived there! This isn’t it.”

“Good, he said, “Then we can go.” And he started to back up. “Seriously this is the only one that is anywhere close to where you say it is – I’ve looked!”

“Okay wait,” I said. “I DO want to look at it. After all, we’re already here.” I could tell he wasn’t happy about it but he pulled over and we got out.

As we made our way through the patches of weeds and dirt to the porch, the bell hidden under the fallen porch roof rang and we both jumped. It was the same bell with the engraving on it except it looked like it had gone back in time. The porch swing lay on its side next to broken flower pots. The windows were broken out and the old double door hung on its hinges. A black cat jumped up on the porch rail and licking her paw, gave out a loud meow.

“What happened to the lady who lived here?”

“I know that you said that you talked to a woman, but city records show that the last occupant died over 100 years ago and nobody has lived here since.”

“No, that’s not right. I did see her. She had a sweet face and the house was cozy and nice and.....”

“Okay okay, but as you can see. She’s not here now. Let’s take a look around. By the way did you tell your mom where you were going? It might take a while.”

“We’re good,” I said. But no, I was a big girl now and wasn’t used to telling anyone where I was going but he didn’t need to know about it.

We walked through the house. It had been beautiful with its oak flooring and leaded glass windows although most of them were cracked or broken clear out. There were many rooms and hallways. We counted 7 stairways both front and back – even two leading to the cellar. At times we got separated and had to knock on walls to find each other. On one side was a large room that looked like it had once been an arboretum. Some of the glass sections were still intact. A few ceilings were down and all of the light switches had buttons and in some rooms light bulbs hung down on wires.

It was beginning to get late and shadows were falling as we made our way out into the back. “This property goes all the way back to the edge of the woods and get this: It actually has a pond or a stream but it is overgrown and full of broken limbs. This is a ruin Josey, don’t you think? It’s probably haunted.” And then he gave me a sideways glance and immediately apologized which made it even worse. Another jab at me and my family made as a joke. Lame. Maybe I needed to get over it, I thought.

But I was in love already with this old place. I could see it all fixed up and it would make a wonderful studio. That big arboretum filled with sewing machines and platforms and mirrors and design boards – I could see them already.

“How much?”

“What?” He jerked towards me and repeated. “What did you say?”

“How much?” I repeated my question.

He stammered out “You can’t be serious. This is a wreck. I don’t even know if it CAN be fixed.”

“I do. Want it. Find out how much they want and all of the details.”

We rode home in silence. I could see his mind racing as he drove. I thanked him for the whole day and we parted ways. He didn’t answer and drove off.

I began dreaming about that house. In my dream I was back on that velvet couch before the fire looking into the eyes of that sweet old lady. There was something she was trying to tell me in my dream but I couldn’t hear her. And then she was gone in a mist and poof I could hear my mother singing in the kitchen and I was back in the real world. I even drove by the house down the lane and puttered around it by myself. Grape vines were tangled around some of the big trees in big knarles. I kept walking around the yards, not venturing inside alone and one day as I ventured down to the edge of the pond at the back of the property behind the house, I saw a statue of a fairy peeking out through the dead wild roses that covered the large stone that seemed to bridge the brook that came out on the other side. I decided to take a look. I took off my shoes and rolled up my jeans and started to wade out to get a better look. Immediately just as my feet entered the icy water I began sliding down a sleep muddy slope and in desperation, I dug my heels into the mud and tried to walk backwards up the slope before I went any deeper. I made a little headway and then my feet slipped again. I could feel myself losing my balance and began to wave my arms wildly as I tried to get a foothold. Suddenly out of what had been a still day out of nowhere, a strong gust of wind hit me full blast in the face and chest and I was thrown backwards onto the bank. In shock, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and sat there for a long moment while I tried to get my bearings and then I heard someone calling my name or was that only the sound of the wind? I jerked around hoping that someone was there. The yard leading up to the house was barren. No one was there. Broken garden tools, an old swing hung on one chain and the only thing moving were the leaves falling in a shower from all of the big old trees. Then I felt eyes on me from somewhere and out from under the porch came the little black cat. I heaved a sigh of relief as I held out my hand to it. Just as it came near enough to touch, it suddenly turned and seemed to look up. And when I followed her gaze up towards the attic window, I saw her staring down at me. It looked like a woman but then maybe I was imagining it. The cat darted up the slope and disappeared under the steps. Someone was in my house (did I say “my house?”) I walked through the tall weeds around the broken wheel barrow and scattered debris and carefully stepped onto the broken wooden steps. I knocked once and then again. Somehow I knew no one would come. “No,” I said to myself, I am going to find out.” And with a deep breath and a strong sense of resolve, I pushed my way into the back door, through an old porch filled with broken wicker furniture scattered everywhere – chairs tipped and flower pots holding dead sticks that once were flowers among a rocking horse and a rag doll sprawled over a broken lamp. One table stood in the corner with chairs as if waiting for some long ago party to begin. I wanted to look further but the eerie stillness seemed to draw me further inside. I cautiously stepped through the Dutch doors leading into a long room with coat hooks lining the walls and shelves dripping in cobwebs. Peering into the door on the left down the narrow hallway, I looked into what been a very large kitchen. Late afternoon light streamed through the high windows showing off dust clouds in the air and spotlighting the china cabinet on the opposite wall. I started to step into the room but then a large black spider dropped down almost touching my face and I jumped back. I turned and could see the front door at the end of this hallway and I headed that way, dodging books from a fallen bookcase along the way. As I grasped the brass door knob, I remembered what I had started out to do and stopped and turning towards the curved stairway, I called up the front hall, ”Is anyone there?” And then again only louder. Silence. Nothing could be heard except the wind through the broken windows. As I turned to go, a strong smell of lilies and a draft of warm air brushed around me then it too was gone.

The wind had come up as I walked towards my car and whipped my hat off my head and carried it down the road. I took off running trying to catch it and finally it hooked on an old bent street sign. I grabbed it and hurried back to jump in my car and pull away from the house.

I thought a lot about it on my way back to the cove and then decided it was all in my imagination and let it go.

“When are you going to show us the house? My mother finally asked me as we were sitting down to dinner that night. I had not told anyone! But of course she would know about it! There was no way to keep secrets from her or anyone else in my family. And so I finally told my mom about it and my aunts the next day and all said in unison, “It’s about time! And we all grabbed our jackets and jumped in Maggie’s big delivery truck and off we went. I thought they would try to talk me out of it once they saw what condition it was in but instead they all loved it. Everyone talked at once. They all had a million ideas for this whole place. After hearing my ideas, they all agreed that it would make a perfect studio – if it worked out – the sale that is. Later my dad joined us and being a builder and from a family of builder, was skeptical but after inspecting it top to bottom, and consulting with Uncle Eddie who was a electrical engineer, he announced that it had “good bones.” The little black cat wound her way around us all afternoon and Aunt Maggie named her Cleo. She was wary at first but soon was rubbing against our legs and purring. Everyone was on board and I knew before Tommy called that it was going to work out. When he did call, he tried again to talk me out of buying the house but I was adamant about it and in the end he reluctantly agreed to offer me the deal on the house. I was beginning to think that he was only worried about me and I tried to be more agreeable on other things. I had asked him about the history of the place and he was able to find out that it had been built over 175 years ago by a man who was interested in cultivating the lush chestnut trees that filled the forests. The last person to live in the house was his granddaughter, a woman named Lily (the smell of lilies at times, I thought) who died almost 70 years ago and had no living heirs. She was known in the area for her music and art. She played the mandolin and she was a fiber artist. After she died, there were rumors that she haunted the house. On Halloween night strange anomalies were said to be seen on the grounds and candlelight flickered in rooms on the upper floors throwing shadows of dancers on the window shades. Strains of music floated down the lane as though from a string quartet. Years went by and people forgot about the house although It was on a Halloween Haunted House Register. But occasionally there were visitors on moonlit night to try and see the ghosts – mostly teenagers.

Before signing the contract, we did a walk through and he pointed out his reasons for not wanting me to sign the deal. I listened patiently and I even described my experience on the day that I almost slid into the pond. “It’s deeper than it looks,” I told him.

“And full of trash I bet,” he said with disgust. The wind was picking up and he seemed to suddenly be in a hurry. We took a quick look in the downstairs rooms and headed up the beautiful circular stairway to the second floor. As we turned the corner around the stairway, the black cat darted between my legs and I fell forward on the oak floor hitting my head on the corner of his briefcase. I felt the rattle of something above the large crystal chandelier crashed from the open steeple above. The cat uttered a loud meow and I realized that if she hadn’t tripped me It could have been my death blow. It barely missed me. Shaken I sat down on the top step and looked up. It looked like the chain holding it had snapped. “Now are you sure that you still want to do this?” Tommy asked belligerently?

“No use, he’s never going to like it.” I got up and turned to him. “Do we need to go to your office to sign it?” I asked.

“Nope, I’ve got it right here.” I signed it right there on the top step, handed over the money and the work began! We started by clearing out stuff that couldn’t be repaired or salvaged, taking many trips to the dump. Then cleaning and making lists. And then bad things began happening. First a candle in an upstairs bedroom fell over catching the wallpaper on fire. Aunt Cappy smelled it one afternoon when she was In the house measuring windows for curtains. She ran up the stairs to the 2nd floor and followed the smoke. And there in one of the bedrooms, she saw flames curling up the old lace curtains hanging from the front window. She screamed for help and dashed down the hall and grabbed a bucket full of drain water to thrown on it. She rushed frantically towards the fire but as she rushed into the room, the bedroom door slammed shut behind her. She turned to see the lock on the bedroom door turning as if on its own. She was trapped! She could hear footsteps coming on the stairs but before whoever was out there was able to get into the room, the ceiling fell in an avalanche of water washing down the walls and dousing the flames. Later we discovered that a rusty water pipe had broken in the room above filling the ceiling full of water and dropping down into in to the room. The fire was put out. Aunt Cappy was certain that the door had locked by itself which was mysterious – maybe - but the big mystery was the candle. Nobody could remember putting put a candle in that room – a lighted candle at that

Dad and members of the construction crew often donated their time sometimes when they weren’t busy to come and the heavy stuff, tearing out walls and replacing windows. After the fire, they concentrated on the plumbing that seemed to go on forever. Tommy, in spite of his obvious disgust, showed up occasionally as well to pound a nail or paint a wall. I told him how much I appreciated it. And then one afternoon just as we were getting started, Marcella came home for a visit and I took her on a tour. We searched the attic and found many treasures including a butter churn that I immediately gave to her being a chef apprentice and all. She found a sliding panel in the circular landing at the top of the stairs and that was a part of one of the turrets. We laughed as we went down the narrow steps inside the turret around and around, pausing at times to look at the narrow windows. We explored the pond and found a narrow outlet on the other side of the huge stone bridge. I had cleared away the vines to reveal the fairy sitting on top. It was a lovely afternoon as we started to explore the stream on the other side of the bridge but it disappeared under years of overgrowth and fallen trees and we saved that for another day.

I spent most of my time working in my house. Sometimes I was alone with my thoughts and sometimes, members of my family stopped by to help. It was beginning to take shape.

As for the ghost, I felt from the moment I entered the front door that someone was watching me. At times I thought it was Cleo the cat. But other times I wondered if it was the ghost of Lilly, the woman that I remembered from the stormy night. As time went by and September turned into October, I sometimes was startled by the sound of a footstep or soft breathing and when I would turn to look, no one was there. I felt the presence of her and thought she was still here in her house. Although I wanted to live in the house, there were times when I felt that she wanted me to leave. One example was the day when I slid down the banks of the pond, the chandelier that barely missed me, my Aunt Cappy saved by a broken water pipe. But there was more. There was an entryway into the front through double doors that led into a large wide living room. A stone and brick fireplace greeted those who entered. Above it hung a large oval mirror in a gilded frame. When the ceilings were repaired and the old worn carpets and velvet curtains were removed, the room sprang to life. The day that I decided to work there, I carried my tools into the center of the room. Some of the old furniture was scattered still around. I could hear others throughout the house working and chatting. Tommy had stopped by and had gone to the kitchen to check on something. I was feeling safe and happy as I unloaded my basket. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cleo jump up on the back of a chair causing it to wobble. In an instant, the tall brass Victorian lamp began to fall. I stepped away to catch the lamp and the big ornate mirror over the fireplace crashed to the floor barely brushing my shoulder. It sent me crashing to the floor scattering shards of glass all over the polished floor. Tommy ran in from the kitchen followed by all of the workers within earshot.

“You could have been killed,” He said and then came over like he was going to hug me. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to but I let him. After all he was a good friend but lately he had been acting more like a boyfriend. I didn’t feel the same about him.

Later my dad was on a ladder inspecting the wall behind the mirror. “Something’s not right, he said. “This bolt is strong. The wire looks like it has been cut or maybe it broke for some reason but it isn’t worn. First the chandelier and now this – somebody’s got something out for you,” and he wasn’t smiling. I was pretty sure that I had seen the woman in the house who I now called “Lilly.” I had never told anyone about her. I couldn’t decide whether I thought she was agood ghost or a bad one. I started out thinking she was good because if she were the ghost of the lady I saw that night of the storm, I had always remembered her as sweet and kind. But now that I thought about it, I drank her tea and passed out so was she trying to poison me? And if she was, how did I get back in my car? I didn’t feel frightened yet. So I was sticking to good witch.

Mom began bringing baskets of flower bulbs over and we began making beds of tulips of different colors, yellow and white daffodils, a variety of Iris some in a multitude of colors and some the standard purple. Rows of alliums in all colors lined the large garden in front and tiger lilies on the side of the house by the porch. Spring was going to be splendid! I was up in a room in one of the turrets and I heard a weak cry from the back yard. Looking down, my mother seemed to be wrestling a rope around her neck and then I saw that it wasn’t a rope. A snake!

I flew down the stairs screaming in hopes that someone else was in the house. I grabbed a long knife off of the kitchen counter and raced to where my mom was now lying on her back with her eyes glazing over. Rage engulfed me as I began slicing at the snake with everything I had. And with one random whack, beheaded it just as it was about to spring. It’s head flew as a huge white owl dove down, and grabbed it in its beak and flew off.

I lifted my mom off the ground with strength I didn’t know I had and ran/walked around the side of the house just as Uncle Eddie arrived. Seeing me he jumped out of his truck and ran up, grabbed mom, laid her back on the ground and cut an X on her neck and began sucking out the venom. Then he carried her to his truck and we raced to the hospital in town. The medical team worked over her as everyone gathered in the waiting room. And finally, the doctor announced that she was going to be fine and we all took a breath. As we grouped together around her bed as she slept, there were questions. 1. How did a rattlesnake get into my yard? They are very rare in this state. 2. Are there more of them? 3. Was this random or was it on purpose? My question was how did Uncle Eddie know what to do and know where she had been bitten? I don’t remember telling that because I didn’t even know where she had been bitten. Also what about the bird? Where did it come from? Everyone seemed to start drifting out of the room and make plans for taking turns staying with mom. It seemed I had a lot to learn.

Things went pretty smoothly for awhile – no snakes were found, nothing fell off of the wall or the ceiling, no fires. At moments while painting a wall or putting shelf paper in kitchen cabinets, I would feel the presence of someone and turning I may see a shadow of the lady that I began to call by name, Lily, disappear around the corner or down the hall. I knew who it was, I was sure it was the woman that I had met that stormy night right here in this house but now she was beginning to scare me. I had been wrong so many times about people that I began to think that she didn’t want me in her house. I started jumping at small things such as the creak of a door or the wind rattling a window. Whenever someone came to help, I would breathe a sigh of relief that I would not be alone in the house that day. As days went by and Halloween approached, I began to relax. And soon, I was fine being alone after all I chuckled to myself, I didn’t want to be a “Sissy.” I put off telling anyone about this because I knew that if I told mom about Lily and that I was becoming frightened of her, that she would worry about me or do something to enrage Lily or worse, try to get me to stay away from this house. And in spite of everything, I loved this place. It was coming alive again with everyone’s help. It wasn’t finished but the main living areas that I had chosen were turning into cozy rooms with polished oak floors, soft painted walls and bright and quirky ones in others. Dangling electrical cords were gone, replaced by fluted milk glass domes in my bedroom to an old fashioned paddle light in the kitchen to fit the age of the house. The mirror had been replaced and re hung over the massive fireplace and the furniture had been returned to its original splendor with stain and polish as well as my aunts skill with fabric and upholstery. I could hear the chatter of all of them working together in the arboretum and the click of needles and scissors as they turned cushions and love seats of long ago into works of art.

The arboretum had been restored and my mother had hung ferns and blooming flowers throughout from rusty hooks. But like most of the house, it was not quite finished but it was becoming livable. No matter, I had other things to worry about.

For one, I needed to get ready for Halloween. The cove would be ablaze with pumpkins and jack o’lanterns, witches and scarecrows at every bend in the road around the pond. The cottages each had their own décor and treats were handed out all evening to children with apple bobbing, pumpkin carving, and apple cider for all who ventured in. Of course all of us always were in costume and sounds of hoot owls and haunted houses could be heard throughout. It was celebrated with gusto. Grandma Alice would not be standing outside her gate this year in her splendid pointed hat and flowing robes but her cottage had been reopened and owls always flocked to her rooftop each year on Halloween.

But this year, I had my own house to decorate and for weeks I had hauled loads of pumpkins, gourds, and hay bales home to arrange by the porch. A goblin sat on the swing and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. I was working on my costume in the kitchen one evening as the sun set. I had stayed after everyone went home for the night and was sitting on a high stool by the counter. I could see the moon rise over the woods as I listened to the radio, and put the last feathers on my black silk Cape. Cleo had been sleeping on the window sill but now she was nipping at my ankles and then she started yowling. “What is wrong with you? I said as I swatted at her. But she wouldn’t stop. She jumped on the counter and humped her back and tried to claw at the window where when I looked through the glass a hooded figure stood outside with red eyes looking straight at me. Someone was on my back porch! Everyone locked up when they left, and then I saw the knife. It was being tapped on the window. I jumped back, throwing myself at the Dutch Door and threw the big lock that my dad had insisted on installing. “Thank you dad.” I grabbed my scissors as I rushed down the narrow hallway as I heard the glass shattering behind me. I pulled at the front door but it wouldn’t open. Desperately I turned, bounded up the circle stairway heading up towards the second floor as all of the lights in the house went out and I was in total darkness. Instead of continuing up the winding stairway, I stepped into the back stairway and crouched back into the corner as hard as I could. Something moved behind me and I fell through a narrow slit in the wall and found myself on a platform. I quickly slid the panel closed and tried not to breathe as I heard footsteps rush by on the other side. “Maybe that was Tommy coming to save me,” I thought because he had left a message that he was going to stop by tonight. But what if it wasn’t? I thought. I stayed quiet. He said he had something to show me. My heart was beating out of my chest as I thought Tommy please hurry, please hurry!.” The smell of lilies warm presence was here with me, I wanted to cry. All I could think of was that I hadn’t told anyone about Lily and now they would never find me. My heart sank. Dumb! Why? Why am I so stupid? And then I heard Marcella when she looked down at me from the tree, “Josie don’t be a sissy! You can do this. Just put your foot on the crook in the tree and pull yourself up!”

The platform began to ascend and I realized that I was on a dumb waiter. Who or what would be waiting for me when I got to the top? As I neared the 3rd floor, I pushed hard at what I hoped was an opening and then pushed myself through it when it cracked open. I heard the waiter continue its climb to the attic without its passenger. And I edged my way around the walls with the help of the moonlight and was thankful that Aunt Cappy had not hung the curtains in this room yet.

I slipped through the door into the hallway just as I heard the click of the lock in the door behind me. Grasping the railing of the circular stairway to brace myself I tried to steady myself. Something or someone was trying to lock me in just like it did to Aunt Cappy on the day of the fire. So far I was staying head but I had a feeling or was it a “knowing?” I was locked in the house with something that wanted to hurt me. I paused and took a breath and then I saw it. In the dim light I could barely see a dark figure down below. Trapped! I couldn’t get back into the room and now I had to find a way down. And then I remembered when Marcella found the sliding panel up here on the landing. It was actually a part of one of the turrets that I saw that night in the storm. I felt my way around the paneling trying to guess where the door to the hidden stairway would be and bingo! I felt the old brass hinge and slid the panel open and stepped through the narrow gap and began to climb down, trying not to make a sound. Where was Tommy? But then I saw his car parked on the side through one of the small windows on the stairway. He was here! And then I felt panic. What if he HAD been here but something awful had happened to him? I was panicked. I picked up my pace and hurried around and around the turret steps to the bottom. I kept thinking that even if I couldn’t find him, I could escape out of the Dutch Doors in the kitchen. I reached the bottom and started pushing on the door. And then it was yanked open from the other side and standing in front of me was the hooded figure. His knife was gleaming in the moonlight.

I leaped out of the stairwell but he grabbed my arm and jerked me back with such force that I hit my head on the edge of the door. It stunned me momentarily and then I started screaming “Tommy! Tommy!” But I was held by strong hands that felt like they were going to crack my bones.

A booming laugh and I felt evil all around me. “You can stop calling for Tommy because he’s already here!” And he yanked off his hood and standing showered by moonlight with his auburn hair standing on end ....was Tommy.

I was startled and then I was angry, “What are you doing? This is NOT FUNNY!”

“You are so RIGHT little girl! There is nothing funny about this. In fact, I would kill you right here but I don’t want to mess up the kitchen!”

“Tommy this is crazy, wha.” But I didn’t get the words out before he slapped me across the face so hard that I passed out. When I woke up he was dragging me across the kitchen floor. My arms were tied behind my back. The lights were on now. He propped me against the cabinet. The whole time that this was going on, I almost felt like an observer of an unreal scene. Here was my childhood friend saying that he wanted to kill me. But why? I heard myself asking him that question.

“Why? Why? Well let me tell you!” He leaned down so that he was close to my face, his breath burned my eyes, as sweat rolled down his face. Hatred distorted his face and his word spewed out like acid. “You have treated me like an animal ALL OF MY LIFE!”

When I tried to speak, he raised his hand as if he was going to hit me again. I closed my mouth. “Your aunt treated my mom like a slave making her work her self to death in the hotsy totsy STUDIO all day and all night.” I remembered Cappy and Florence laughing together over sketches, drinking lemonade on the porch in the evening after work. Sure they worked hard but I always thought that she loved her work as much as Aunt Cappy. He was ranting on. ME? Oh right I was the poor relations. You and those evil cousins of yours wouldn’t even let me into your “inner circle.” Oh no! I only got to be a part of your “little group” when YOU ALL decided.” Marcella and Jerome could be hard to understand at times. I even got shut out at times. But Tommy didn’t always want to play with us, I remembered. Sometime he came to work with his mom and liked to play alone. He even brought his erector set that he didn’t let anyone touch.

I caught up with what he was saying. “I knew you were all weird when I heard your grandma talking about the “fairy circle and the moon.” I read about it during library day when I was 12 years old. And do you know what? When the moon is waning, it is possible to block thoughts. You didn’t think I was smart?” (I did think he was smart – smart enough, like all of us). So I waited and when it was just right, I rode my bike in the middle of the night to the pond and moved a trap under the wharf. It was amazing!” I felt sick at what may be coming. “Two days later, Jerome, got stuck!” His face lit up and he threw back his head and laughed an dreadful laugh. “He almost DIED!” Another evil laugh. “I wanted Marcella but Jerome would do.” They couldn’t figure out how this happened, I heard them – you witch women! It was ME – little ‘stupid not-good-enough ME.” I felt sick.

“No you don’t” he snarled. “No don’t you look away from me,” and he jerked my chin around. “Oh, JoJo, there is more and YOU ARE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YOUR LIFE! He went on.

“The Holts come to town. Did you know the Mr. Holt stole money from his work? That’s right. So it was easy to get sweet little Donna to do whatever I wanted her to.” He looked at me. “She had to! Or I would have told your uncle about her dad and he would have lost his job! And they would have RUINED! That’s right. They were broke when they came to Middleton! I know because I saw them at the food bank getting food.” He spoke as if being broke was a sin. Tommy and his mom lived in a small apartment. He wasn’t wealthy.

He kept rambling. He boasted with pride, “ I was the captain of all of them – That’s right. Me - the Captain,”he repeated. “ Everyone has a family secret and I am a genius at finding them out! Still am.” He winked at me. My fingers were pulling at the chords that bound my hands but I kept my eyes straight ahead.

“I was the one who cut your mom’s hose,” he bragged. “Donna wouldn’t do it so I made her paint those words under the bleachers and she got caught! That stopped that. The next time I told her to do something, she did it.” And he clapped his hands together. “But when you turned me down for the prom even after you had made your dress, I decided that you would pay no matter how long it took you were going to pay.” And then he began describing the evil that he took credit with – the lost memos on the board outside my classroom that almost ruined my grades, the slashed tires, the note on my door, while I was at VU checking them off on his fingers. He grunted in disgust, “That crazy guy who got sloshed before the truck deal and I paid him a bundle and he couldn’t even hit you!” that he paid off the driver who lost control and hit a tree, the note on my door and on and on. My back was killing me as I tried to get loose but his voice kept droning on and on.

I realized he had stopped and was staring at me. “Please let me say something,” I pleaded.

“Let YOU say something when you have never ever been nice to me EVER? Even now when I try to touch you , you act like I’m dirty or something.” I must have looked surprised. “How do you think that fire started, Huh? Who do you think lit that candle? How about the mirror? I almost got you then. The snake was perfect! Poor poor Becca – sweet Becca,” he whined and wiped away fake tears. I could feel the gall boiling up in my throat. “I took it out of the nature center. I poisoned the water jug but that stupid cat tipped it over before anyone could drink it.”

“What have you done with her,” I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen her for awhile.

“Oh she’s going to the same place that you are if I can catch her!” And he reached up on the counter and pulled down a burlap sack. “You’re going to be as snug as a bug in a rug and they will NEVER EVER find you. And by the way, thanks for leaving me your house in your will.”

Will, what will? What was he talking about?

“I am a wizard when it comes to signatures. Ask the county clerk. Oh that’s right, you will be gone! Too bad!” He pulled the bag over my face and down my body and tied it around my ankles so tight that I held back a scream. He yanked me down the steps bumping my head with each step and across the yard and I began to understand where we were going. Suddenly there was a flapping of wings and the sound of birds and he began shout at them as he stumbled across the yard. I could tell he was trying to fight them off. Then a loud meow and I knew Cleo was on the attack as well. Tommy fell forward and began to roll down the slope but stopped himself and pulling himself to a standing position, he jerked the bag with me in it the rest of the way down the hill kicked me into the cold icy water of the pond.

I took a deep breath and I heard him call just before I hit the water, “Good byeeeee Josie! Pleasant dreams.” I was sinking fast in the freezing cold muddy water of the pond until finally I hit the bottom. I could see the faces of my mother and dad, Grandma Alice, Dusty, and everyone I loved flying by in my mind. And suddenly I heard Marcella ,” JOSIE OPEN YOUR EYES and I remembered what she and Jerome had taught me years ago as we played in the pond and I forced my eyes open so that I could hold my breath longer. I blinked and tried to see through the burlap bag. And there it was - the beam! I had to get out of this bag. But the more I struggled the more I was getting tired. And then I remembered the scissors I had grabbed as I ran out of the kitchen. I grabbed my pants and pulled my long pocket around to the side so I could reach it. My hands were tied but my fingers finally got a hold of the scissor handle and I kept pulling until it was free. Minutes ticked by and I knew there was a time limit and I could feel myself running out of air. I stabbed at the burlap until I made a hole, stuck my finger through it and tried to pull it apart. I started to feel my strength ebbing and in my small space I heard Aunt Cappy’s voice telling me to pull the string on the bottom just like she taught me years ago. I fumbled in the water as my fingers began to go numb and when I thought I had it, I pulled and the side of the burlap sack fell apart and I kicked out of it. The scissors started to slip out of my numbing hand but I hooked the handle with my thumb as it fell. With several attempts the chords came loose around my hands and feet and I felt myself rising to the top where I was sure that Tommy was waiting to kill me if I came to the surface. I could see the beam more clearly now but oddly it seemed to be moving deeper and further away. I was running out of air, I didn’t think I had enough to go deeper. Just as I was about to kick to the surface, I heard Grandma Alice as she lay dying say “Follow the beam and flutter as hard as you can.” I didn’t know what she meant that night but now I knew. Flutter kick!!! And kick I did as hard as I could as I pointed my hands forward. I was moving through the water towards the beam. I followed it through a tunnel under the stone bridge and at times I had to squeeze through a passage that was almost too tight. But the beam was straight ahead and I couldn’t turn back so I pushed and clawed my way through the slit. My air was getting thinner and I was losing power in my legs when I saw the large docking rings next to the bank. I grabbed the top step and strained to pull myself up out of the water. My lungs sucked in the icy night air and I hugged myself hard and tried to catch my breath. I was still paralyzed with fear that somewhere out in the dark, Tommy was still looking for me. Then I heard voices back on the yard behind the house, shouting and saw a shadow of two men run across the yard in the moonlight and grab Tommy. A fight ensued as others came around the house. I recognized mom and dad and my aunts and uncles.

A voice shouted above the others “What have you done with her? Tell me or I’ll.....” Then I heard my dad calling my name. Another voice, vaguely familiar seemed to be begging Tommy to tell them what happened and I could hear him say that he hadn’t seen me. I couldn’t seem to say anything, I was paralyzed and then I started croaking and then softly at first “I’m here, “ I am over here,” and waving my arms. My voice gathered strength as I called out.

“Wait I heard I heard something,” I heard someone say and everyone stopped shouting and listened. I slogged around the banks of the pond. “I’m here!” As I climbed the slope towards the house, I was grabbed and hugged by everyone in the yard that night. Sirens could be heard in the distance and the sheriff and his deputies arrived. The man who was holding Tommy on the ground stood and released him into custody and he was led away. Everyone talked at once and I tried to tell them what had happened when someone pushed through the crowd and to my utter amazement, it was Dusty and behind him were Hale and Donna! It was a long night answering questions from the sheriff first and then when he decided I had had enough for the night, and turned to go, I looked at Dusty and both of us said at once: “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Sitting on the floor of the kitchen that night listening to Tommy, for a moment I felt an intense sense of guilt when I thought how he had always felt left out but that quickly turned to horror and then rage when I realized that he had tried to kill members of my family starting back when he tried to drown Jerome. He had gotten past my Grandma Alice’s “knowing” by a fluke of nature. True it was the waning moon phase that sometimes allowed that to happen according to my family, but they didn’t think that that was be enough. We may never know. But the moon was waxing the night he tried to kill me and for whatever reason, his evil alerted everyone on the cove and all were on their way to save me. That also seems to have alerted the owls who attacked him as he was dragging me to the pond. Lucky for me, I learned the trick that Marcella and Jerome taught me that day long ago how to hold my breath or I wouldn’t have been able to live through that horrible night.

As for Lily, my mother and my aunts held a candlelight walk through every room and stairway and then we all met in the kitchen with cups of cocoa and Aunt Margy’s warm and wonderful cinnamon rolls. All of them began to speak of a lovely lady and they described her as a lovely ghost who they called “Granny” such as in “Granny’s garden” and Granny’s bell” that incidentally seemed to ring with different chimes according to the day or mood. On Halloween, for example, it was a deep gong sound but on summer afternoons, it was a lovely chime. It seems that cats have a connection with ghosts and Cleo (short for Cleopatra) is no exception. As I sat there in the kitchen that day, I listened in awe while the they spoke of the wind that she had sent that day to blow me back on the grass when I was slipping down the muddy bank of the pond. The breaking of the water pipe in the room above the fire that put it out and saved Aunt Cappy – that was Lily; the day that Cleo pushed the lamp and I stepped to catch it just as the mirror fell behind me; the poisoned water jug that Cleo pushed over in the backyard before anyone could drink from it. The lock that seemed to work on its own but was actually Lilly locking Tommy out instead of locking us in. I had worked against her that night when I thought I was escaping that room. And of course, that rainy night when I ran away from the fairy circle and into a mysterious storm that didn’t happen. I was caught and saved from hurting myself in my erratic driving down that road that night and taken in by a lady with a big heart who said “I have been worried,” one night in a beautiful house on “Morning Lane.” As I sat there, sipping my cocoa listening to their voices, with Cleo chiming in with a meow, I knew then that they had known all along and had counted on Lily to watch over me. And I knew then, having a ghost in your house can be good especially on Halloween. On Halloween, mandolin music can be heard upstairs along with the sound of dancers. You can see their shadows moving across the window blinds outside to the sound of the music. Whenever I feel a warm gust of air and smell lilies, I know I am safe.

The house it turned out had been a part of my great great great grandfather Albus Anderson’s estate and had been gifted to his sister Mona to live in until her line no longer existed and then it was to be returned to the estate. That meant that it basically was a part of the cove and the pond outlet under the stone bridge where the fairy still sits feeds into a brook that winds through the forest and comes out right by Grandma Alice’s grave where it flows into our big pond. We are connected. Tommy found this out when he was digging for information for me and he and the city clerk hatched a plan to keep this information from me for several reasons:

He tried to talk me out of buying it because he wanted it. But when that didn’t work:

He sold me a house that essentially I already owned and kept the money.

He forged my name on a will that he had written giving him the property at my death.

He planned to kill me, take possession of the house, and be a part of the Cove. And to that end, he acted like my friend as he had always done. I could see now why Marcella and Jerome didn’t invite him to play with us at times. Even as children, they seemed to have “the knowing.”

He was charged and convicted of attempted murder. The city clerk was fired and faced charges associated with forgery and fraud. They are serving their terms.

Tommy had bragged to me that night while I sat tied up in the kitchen all about his power over Donna and the others. It turns out that she had seen me talking to him on the street when I was headed to the bank with my inheritance and became worried that he was up to his old tricks. She followed him one night when she saw him loading a ladder in the back of a truck and followed him out to the old house. He entered the house with a flashlight and she knew he was cooking up something. That could have been the night that he rigged up the chandelier. After that she tried to contact me and when that didn’t work, she tried to keep track of his comings and goings. She was the woman in the backyard that I saw that night trying to convince him to tell everyone where I was. Tommy had harassed her family and those of the kids that I called “the gang” all of these years. Donna had finally broken free when she had evidence that he had paid someone to drive across the Commons at VU and run me down. The blackmailer was blackmailed. She said that she had tried to warn me many times about him but I would never let her get close enough. True. Mazie met me for coffee one morning and told me the same story. Grandma’s words came to mind, “Evil is near. Nothing is what it seems.” We became friends again.

It turns out that my aunt Maggie and Uncle Ralph knew all about the trouble that Donnas’ dad had been in before moving to Middleton but they believed him to be a good man, who had made a terrible mistake in trying to save his family from being evicted rather than a criminal. He had told Uncle Ralph the truth about himself when he came into the grocery story to apply for the job. They both knew he was telling the truth as they listened. Aunt Maggie had the knowing as you recall. They helped him pay back the money he had taken even though it took several years. He later became the store manager and a member of the city council. Donna, as a girl, didn’t know that the family secret was not a secret to Uncle Ralph and Aunt Maggy. So when they were threatened by Tommy, she stepped up to protect her family when all of this time, it was unnecessary.

Remember the street sign that my hat got hooked on when I first was looking at the place and I had to run after it? Well when the pole was straightened back up and cleaned off, it read, “Morning Lane.” I know Grandma Alice is with me because on her death bed, she said I will be with you always on Morning Lane. At the time, I didn’t know what she meant.

All of those years that I tried to find my way by getting as far away from the cove as I could starting with the stormy night and ending on the day I was fired in New York, I guess I was only growing and learning. True I made good friends and learned how the fashion design world works and both are basic to my life today. I also learned that shutting people out of my life doesn’t work and can even be dangerous,. And just when I thought I had lost everything, I was wrong. My family, my roots, and the house on Morning Lane were all waiting for me to come home. And by the way, Marcella and Jerome WERE watching over me when I was in college by taking turns coming to VU and watching over me. Grandma Alice had sent them. Jerome said that when he saw Dusty sleeping in the hallway outside my attic apartment, he knew then that they could stop coming to VU because he would keep me safe.

As for Dusty, yes he had been walking down the red carpet with a gorgeous brunette model but he said that he had never dated her and besides he had someone else (me) and so did she. But just as I treated Donna when she tried to tell me about Tommy, I wouldn’t let her for fear she was going to hurt me with her words, I would never talk to him either. I even returned all of his letters unopened and threw away any article about him that showed up in a magazine or newspaper.

I gave up on him but it seems that he didn’t give up on me. He quit his job in Paris and took one in New York in order to try and talk me into giving him another chance. He was the man waiting for me in the bird sanctuary that I saw out my ESC window but didn’t meet because I thought he was a mugger put there by Donna. After the blow up and my ousting from ESC, my friend Hale remembered our conversations in that little coffee shop where I had told him about Dusty. After I returned to Middleton, he ran into him at an opening. Hale was worried because I hadn’t answered his letters (for once this may have worked in my favor) and that’s how their plan to come to the cove started out. Okay, so was THAT a coincidence? They made plans to visit me around Halloween since they both knew how much I liked it but when they got to town, they couldn’t figure out how to find the cove. They got to Middleton later than they planned having never before driven through mountains at night. And then saw lights in the window of the City News office. The woman at the desk was......Donna! She was just leaving but when they asked her how to find the cove and that they were looking for me, she explained that it might be hard to find it and it would be easier just to lead them there rather than try to explain. And so they reached the Cove just as everyone was rushing out to their cars to come and save me. My dad, when hearing that they were looking for me, shouted out of his car window “Follow us!” And that’s how they all arrived almost at the same time. (It would have been nice if they had all gotten there a little earlier, I thought, but of course I didn’t say that

Hale eventually changed jobs and is no longer in the fashion industry. Sheila was fired from ESC and banned from the industry. And since she had taken credit for all of my designs she was unable to switch the blame to me and in the end, she wasn’t charged with anything because the designs had not been copy written. But her status in the industry was damaged and she has yet to get it back.

Epilogue:

5 years later

The beautiful white house with the wraparound porch and two turrets surrounded by flower gardens sits back in the woods somewhere in Vermont. There is a rose covered archway out by the highway that can be seen if you are looking for it with a sign that reads, Welcome to Enchanted Designs by J and D. And if you enter through the archway, you will find yourself on Morning Lane, a narrow path that winds down through a wooded lane lined with flowers of every color. Listen and you will hear the sound of the ringing of a bell and the chirping of songbirds. The opening is ahead through the tunnel of trees and spills out the other end into a large clearing. On one side sits a boat dock by a brook where boat rides are available between Morning Lane and The Cove on certain holidays. Beyond lies a pond with water lilies floating among stones where turtles sun themselves and ducks and geese play.

In the center is a round flower garden surrounding a large statue of a hat. If you look at it closely, you will see a woman’s face peeking out from under its brim with a small smile on her heart-shaped lips. Song birds fly over ahead and land on the brim to sing their morning songs and flowers magically bloom there all year long.

But the beautiful white house with the wraparound porch and the two turrets sits in its glory around a bend in the middle of a lush green lawn. It sits surrounded gardens. At times, people can be seen carrying large packages tied up with satin ribbons out of the glass studio on the side.

On this day, a black cat sits on the porch licking its paws in the afternoon sun. If you look closer, you may just see a shadow of a woman’s smiling face looking down from the attic window. Toys are strewn around the porch and from within the house, a baby’s cry can be heard and the sound of a mother’s voice singing,

Good morning to you

Good morning to you

We’re all in our places

With sunshiny faces

For this is the way

To start a new day.

Composer unknown

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