Magic in the Mix (18 page)

“Step out onto it,” said Molly. “I'm right behind you.”

Miri clung to the precarious ladder with one arm and stretched the other out as far as she could,
seeking a surface—there! There, there, there. Now for her foot.
Pat, pat, pat
—a floor! Hmm. Hope it's wide enough, she thought. If I fall out of the tree and break my arm, which century will I fall into? What did they do with broken arms in 1918? Oh shut up, she ordered herself, and swung sideways off the ladder.

At the foot of the tree, Cookie snapped her tail back and forth to summon her energy. She began with an invigorating skitter sideways, followed by a frantic race around the tree. Then she hurled herself at the trunk, where she hung, breathing heavily, for a moment before dashing madly up the bark.

“
Cookie!
” scolded Molly. “Stop running around. You're going to—”

In a frenzy, Cookie lunged between Miri and the ladder and took a flying leap at a branch below. “Yow!” squealed both cat and girl as they fell forward into nothing and disappeared.

“Whew.” Molly ducked her head and crawled into the tree house. “That was pretty stomach-churning.”

Miri wedged herself into a corner to make room for her sister. Cookie squeaked a protest, and Miri
scowled at her. “You! You practically broke my neck! I'm lucky I fell into that window over there,” she explained to Molly, pointing. “I guess it's a window, anyway. Or maybe it's just where the boards have fallen off.”

“Not the sturdiest tree house in the world,” Molly remarked, looking through the branches. “But cute.”

With guilt in the twenty-first century and war in the nineteenth, the twentieth century seemed, at first glance, like a vacation. The golden autumn afternoon was drawing to a close. In the depths of the tree, the shadows were deep and cool, but out in the branches, the leaves of the elm glittered bright, and over by the barn, comfortable animal sounds percolated. Ahead of them, the house lay clean and white and normal, looking like it had never heard of magic.

“It's so calm and peaceful, compared with the war,” murmured Miri. She scratched under Cookie's ears, forgiving her. Cookie lifted a soft paw and patted her face gently.

“We don't need calm and peaceful,” Molly reminded her. “We need Maudie.”

It was true. They needed Maudie. They needed her to believe their story; they needed her to
understand why they had to have the safe-conduct from General Lee. Then they needed her to smuggle it out of the house and let them depart with it in their hands.

A few moments later, they were standing on the wide, clean front porch, listening to someone play a piano, very badly, inside. In Miri's arms, Cookie gave a discontented huff.

Molly knocked on the door, and the response was immediate. “Shut up that playing,” snipped a voice from inside. Heels thudded heavily down the hall. “There's Mr. Gardner calling, and he don't want to hear any of that racket.”

Flo
again
. Miri and Molly had time only to look tragically at each other before she wrenched open the door, squealing, “Well, Mr. Gardner! Do—” The toothy smile dropped from her face and was replaced by a scowl. “You! Gypsy thieves! You can just take yourselves right off my porch. I thought I made myself clear last time you came around!”

“We're not here to see you,” Miri snapped. “We're here to see your sister.” On a whim, she added, “And you'd better watch out or I'll put a Gypsy curse on you.”

Flo drew back. “Ain't no such thing as a curse, you nasty child!”

Miri couldn't help herself. “See what you think tomorrow morning when your eyes are scabbed shut,” she said, waving her hands in a complicated pattern.

“
Stop that!
” Flo squealed.

At the sound of Flo's squeal, Cookie lurched up and scrambled for safety, jumping from Miri's arms and shooting into the hallway.

“Cookie! Come back!” Miri called after her.

“Eeeew!” squeaked Flo. “Get it, get it!”

“We can't,” said Molly. “We can't go inside.”

“You certainly can't,” sniffed Flo. She squalled, “
Mau-DIE!
There's a cat loose in the house! Get it!”

“A cat! Really?” said a light, bubbling voice down the hall. Miri heard Molly draw in her breath. After a moment, they heard, “Oooh, come here, darling; come here, sweetheart.”

“Uck!” sneered Flo.

“That's it,” crooned Maudie, appearing in the hallway. Under her chin, she cuddled the white kitten. “I think this kitty's just hungry, is all—why, look!” She beamed at Miri and Molly. “It's my two
favorite Gypsies! Did you come back to tell me my fortune?”

Miri thought Maudie had grown even prettier in the week since she'd seen her. “Hi,” she said shyly. “Can you come outside?”

“Whyn't you come in?” urged Maudie. “I'll get you some gingerbread.”

“Absolutely not!” cried Flo. “They are not putting one foot in this house. I just cleaned it.”

Maudie gave her sister a steady look. “They're my company, and they can come in if they like.”

“Uh. Wait,” Miri said, holding up a hand to stop their argument. “We, um, can't come in. It's—it's against Gypsy rules. Will you come outside?”

Maudie's face fell. “You feel unwelcome.”

“That's because they are unwelcome,” put in Flo.

“No! Really, it's not that. Please come outside,” Miri begged.

“Please!” added Molly, a little breathlessly.

“All right.” She stepped out onto the porch with featherlight steps. The door slammed shut behind her.

Miri looked curiously at the cat in Maudie's arms. She nudged Molly. “Cookie's still here. She
went inside and she's still here,” she murmured. It was true. Molly gave the cat a brief, startled stare. But she didn't have time to ponder it. They needed that safe-conduct. “Maudie,” Miri began.

“Take a seat,” said Maudie in a friendly way. She sat down on the top step of the porch and patted the step beside her. Miri sat.

After a moment, Molly did the same.

Miri took a breath. “Maudie,” she said, “I know this is going to be hard to believe, but please, just listen to me, okay?” Maudie nodded agreeably, and Miri plunged in. “We're not from here—I mean, we're not from this time.”

Maudie frowned. “Pardon me?”

Miri tried again. “We're from another time, Molly and me. We live in this house a hundred years from now and—”

Maudie's face was worried. She put her hand on Miri's shoulder and whispered confidentially, “You're awful young to drink, honey. It'll stunt your growth.”

“Oh gosh, Maudie, you've just got to believe us—”

“She's joking,” Molly broke in suddenly. “We just have a funny way of talking about time, because
we're Gypsies, and we can see into the future.” She smiled into Maudie's concerned face. “Do you want to know what I see in yours?”

Maudie's cheeks flushed pink. “Oh yes!” she said, thrusting out her hand. “Tell me everything!”

Molly took Maudie's small hand in hers and ran a finger over the lines in her palm. “Well.” She swallowed and looked at Miri. Help me.

“You're going to be happy,” Miri said. “You're going to fall in love—”

“With who?” cried Maudie.

“A stranger,” Miri answered. She looked at Molly. “Someone you don't know yet.”

“You're going to meet him soon,” said Molly. Her voice trembled a little. “And then you're going to marry him. You'll marry him and then you'll go to Niagara Falls on your honeymoon.”

“Niagara Falls! How funny!”

Miri watched Molly, gazing into the little hand as if she truly saw the future there.

“After you've been married for a few years, you're going to have a baby.”

“Ohh,” Maudie sighed happily. “That's good. I love babies.”

Molly's fingers curled close around her mother's. “It'll be a daughter. You'll love her and she'll love you back.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “You might worry if—if—you have to leave her, but she'll be fine.” She paused to take a shaking breath. “She'll find a perfect place, with a family who loves her and takes care of her, and her life will be wonderful. But she's not ever going to forget you, and—and she wants you to be happy.” She gazed intently at Maudie. “So just please be as happy as you can for as long as you can. Okay?”

Maudie nodded dreamily. “A daughter,” she murmured. “That's what I'd like. Maybe a boy later, but a girl first. That's just right.”

Molly looked away, blinking back tears.

“Maudie,” Miri began, trying to keep her voice soft and persuasive. “Last time you said that you'd pay us if we told your fortune.”

“Oh, of course,” exclaimed Maudie, rising. “Let me just run inside—”

“No!” Miri clutched her arm. “No, we don't want money. We need to, um, borrow something you have.”

“Really? What?” Maudie looked a little wary.

“The safe-conduct signed by R. E. Lee,” Miri
blurted in a rush. “Please, please. We need it for a special, uh”—she looked at Molly—“thing.”

“The safe-conduct? Signed by Lee?” Maudie frowned. “That's all you want? That old piece of paper?”

Miri and Molly nodded in unison.

“You can't use it anymore,” Maudie warned. “It's no good.”

“We know. We still need it,” Miri said.

Maudie stood, brushing off her skirt. “I'll be right back.” She dropped Cookie into Molly's arms.

They waited in tense silence. “It's getting late,” commented Miri. The elm was shaded by the house now, and the blue of the sky was darkening. Behind them, the sun was setting in thick stripes of gray cloud and golden light.
How many hours do they have left?
asked the voice in her mind. Miri began to chew on her knuckle.

“Here.” Maudie came toward them, holding out a brown, battered sheet of paper.

Miri took it carefully in her hands and read the spindly writing. “Bearer must in no way and for no purpose be detained from the pursuit of his duties. Let neither his costume nor his demeanor cause his
arrest. He is in my service. General R. E. Lee.” Thank you, General R. E. Lee, she thought reverently. Whoever the heck you are.

Maudie shrugged and bent over Cookie in Molly's arms. “She's the very sweetest little thing I ever saw,” she cooed.

“You want to hold her again?” Molly said, and softly transferred the kitten to Maudie. “She likes you.”

At that moment, a shining motorcar rumbled onto the drive at the bottom of the yard. It came to a stop with a great grinding of gears and quivering of tires.

“Must be Flo's caller,” mumbled Maudie, burying her face in Cookie's fur.

Once the engine had exhausted itself, a door slammed, and a tall, tanned man strode energetically up the lawn. “As I live and breathe, it's the Gypsy thieves!” he called cheerfully, waving.

Maudie looked up, startled, and Cookie, seized by a sense of drama, leaped from her arms to streak white across the lawn.

“Oh, goodness!” cried Maudie, laughing. “Can you catch her?”

Pat Gardner grinned. “I don't have very good luck with this cat.” But obligingly he leaned down and, by some strange chance, scooped Cookie into his hands. “Or maybe I do.”

“Thanks!” said Maudie, hurrying down the stairs to retrieve the kitten.

Pat straightened, and Miri and Molly, standing on the top step, saw his face as the girl came toward him. They saw his smile grow still and his eyes widen.

“Look. She's wearing a yellow dress,” whispered Molly.

She was. Miri hadn't noticed it before, but in the glowing sunset, Maudie skimming across the grass looked like light itself.

Fumbling a little, Pat Gardner handed the kitten to Maudie. For a moment, the pair of them stood, looking at each other.

“You see?” said a voice behind them. As Miri spun around, Molly was already hurtling into May's arms.

“Oh, Grandma,” she cried, nestling her head in her grandmother's shoulder. “Is it all right? I could've stopped them, and I didn't. I didn't do anything!”

May's arms circled Molly and rocked her gently. “Look at them, sweetheart. Look!” she commanded, and turned Molly around to watch as Maudie, blushing now, tried to hold Cookie and shake hands with Pat at the same time. Every movement between them was both awkward and the most graceful thing Miri had ever seen. “Look. They've finally met. And they're about to fall in love,” May said in a low voice. “Without you, it would never have happened. Flo would have seen to that. And sweetheart,” she said, stroking Molly's hair, “it would have been a sin to stop it. This is what Maudie would choose. If she had to choose between six years with Pat Gardner and a long life without him, she would choose him.”