Magic in the Mix (6 page)

“Yeah. My fault.” Molly blew out a long breath.

Miri couldn't allow that. “No! Don't think that! You didn't do it!”

Molly looked haunted. “Yes, I did. There's no getting around it. She died when she had me.”

Miri couldn't think of anything comforting to say. That nice girl was going to die. It hurt to think about it.

“She wanted to know her fortune,” Molly whispered. “It's a pretty bad fortune.”

Miri nodded. It was a pretty bad fortune.

“She seemed nice, didn't she?” Molly asked.

“Really nice. And funny, too. You look like her.”

Molly shook her head. “No. She's beautiful.”

“Well, you look like her, and you're pretty pretty now. So you'll probably be beautiful when you're seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” repeated Molly. “She's only got six years to live. A little more than six years.”

“She dies when she's twenty-three?” Miri asked unhappily. “Only twenty-three?” That was young. Young to have a baby. Very young to die.

Molly looked across the hayloft, blinking rapidly.

“Listen,” urged Miri. “Listen, let's”—she searched for something, anything to make it better“—let's go ask your grandma!” The words fell out of her mouth before she knew she was going to say them, but instantly, she knew she was right. Grandma May knew magic inside and out. She'd have an idea, maybe even a solution. “Maybe there's something we can do!” She gave Molly's shoulder a squeeze. “I mean, think about it—what do we know for sure? We know that magic is a way of setting things right. Right?” she prodded, and Molly nodded. “So maybe we're here to do something for your—your mother.” She tripped over the word. It sounded wrong when it didn't mean
their
mother. “It's possible, anyway.”

Molly whirled around. “Why, sure!” she cried, her tear-damp face brightening. “Of course! You're totally right! That's what we're here for!” She shook her head, wondering at herself. “I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I mean, it's obvious, right? Grandma knows
everything
! She's magic herself!
She's bound to have a solution. My gosh, I can't believe I wasted all this time!” Filled with new purpose, Molly jumped to her feet. “Come on. Grab Cookie. Let's go.”

The distance between the barn and the house was at least fifty miles. That's what it looked like to Miri, anyway. She paused beside the barn, eyeing the wide lawn and trying not to think about Flo and her shotgun.

The two girls had edged out the barn door and gone toward the corner nearest the house. Their appearance caused pandemonium among the chickens, but then, everything caused pandemonium among chickens. They sidled past the pigs, who watched them with utter boredom, and a dignified goose, who decided that they weren't worth biting. Now, though, they had arrived at the point of no return: To get to Molly's grandmother, inside the house, they had to cross the open lawn.

Molly was undaunted. In fact, she was fizzing with determination. “Just aim for those rhododendrons there under the window,” she whispered,
pointing to a large window on the side of the house, which Miri recognized as belonging to the living room. “The bushes will cover us all the way from that side around to the front stairs.”

“Okay.” Cookie squirmed, and Miri clutched her firmly. “Let's go on the count of three,” she whispered, trying to work up her nerve.

Molly turned, and Miri caught a flash of her usual fearless smile. “Three,” she whispered, and sprinted toward the house.

“Molly!” groaned Miri in an undertone, and raced after her, hoping Flo was far away.

Seconds later, she was ducking into the rhododendron bushes. They had no flowers now, in the fall, but their leaves grew thick and full against the sides of the house, and as Molly had predicted, the two of them were well hidden within. Molly crept forward, taking the lead, and Miri followed, concentrating on careful, silent steps.

Cookie squirmed again, desperate to free herself, to leap into this paradise of branches and
climb
! Wildly, she wiggled against the arm that imprisoned her, only to have it clamp around her even more tightly. Branch after tempting branch flashed by,
unclimbed, and Cookie decided that the time had come to deploy the ultimate weapon. She dug her claws into the arm.

“Yow!” squeaked Miri, and tripped over a root. She fell with a crash into a tangle of branches. The noise was astounding, even without the shriek that she managed to keep bottled up inside her.

Molly pulled her quickly from the thicket to crouch against the house. Are you okay? she mouthed. Miri nodded, trying to ignore a stinging something on her forehead, but there was no time to investigate, because a window above them rose with a rumble. They froze as a girlish voice said, “Why, it must've been some awful
animal
of my sister's.”

“Didn't know you had a sister.” A deep man's voice moved toward the window.

“Oh my,
yes
!” tinkled the girl. Miri and Molly shared questioning looks. Could this be Flo? It sounded like her, but with frosting. “She's just a
child
, of course. And she's wild about animals, 'specially cats—and pigs, too, if you can believe that. She talks to them just like they're
people
. Isn't that crazy?”

Miri could almost see Flo shaking her head in aren't-children-silly amazement.

“I'm real fond of pigs myself,” the man said.
“Nobody gives them any credit, but think of it—they spend their lives eating and rolling in the mud. They don't work and they don't fight. That's pretty smart in my book.”

Flo burbled out a lot of fake-sounding giggles. “Aren't you a card!” she trilled. Miri and Molly rolled their eyes at the idea of Flo trying to be sweet. “Now, I want to show you something I just
know
you'll be interested in, a military man like you!” Her voice faded as she moved away.

“I'm not a military man anymore,” he called after her. There was no answer, and Miri and Molly heard him sigh. They smiled at each other. The poor guy, stuck with Flo.

Back she came,
tap, tap, tap
. “My grandfather's medals, from the War Between the States—”

“We call it the Civil War,” interrupted the man drily.

Giggle, titter. “You Yankees! Anyway, see, he got the Southern Cross—that's this here.”

Molly batted her eyelashes at Miri, who batted hers back.

“Very nice,” muttered the man.

“But here's what's
interesting
,” enthused Flo. “Look at this!”

There was a silence. “From Lee,” the man said. This time he did sound a little interested.

“
Yes
. General Robert E. Lee, commander in chief—see, he signed it here. See?” Miri could picture Flo shoving whatever it was in the man's face. “It's a safe-conduct. See? ‘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.'
Now
,” cried Flo, “don't
you
think that means my granddaddy was a
spy
?”

“Well,” said the man slowly, “could be. Looks like he was up to some kind of mischief for the Confederacy, anyway.”

“Ooh, it just makes me
shiver
to think of it,” squealed Flo.

Miri tossed imaginary curls about as Molly waved an imaginary fan and smiled coyly. Miri heaved a silent but passionate sigh. Molly indicated that she might throw up any second. They found themselves so entertaining that they missed the man's answer.

Flo's voice drifted out: “—for some tea and cookies. I baked them special for you.”

Molly and Miri gave identical guilty starts. Cookie!
Where was she? As the window above them was drawn down, they twisted about, hunting for a little white kitten among the branches. “She must have jumped away when I tripped,” whispered Miri, peering through the leaves. “Cookie!” she whisper-shouted.

“There!” said Molly with relief, pointing. And there was Cookie, a tiny lion in the underbrush, her eyes gleaming, her tail stiff, preparing an attack on a bird that pecked in the nearby dirt.

“Cookie!” Miri whispered, reaching for her.

Alarmed by the crackling of leaves, Cookie she took a wild, spitting lunge at her prey. The bird flew off in annoyance.

“Here, kitty!” called Miri in a strangled whisper as Cookie, embarrassed by her failure, pretended to be deeply interested in the cleanliness of her leg. “Here, kitty!”

Cookie glanced at her and then trotted out of the rhododendrons toward the front stairs. She felt a nap coming on. There was sure to be comfortable spot on the porch.

“Oh heck,” sighed Miri. “Now we have to go get her.”

Molly assessed the situation like a general. “Okay,” she said, half to herself. “Okay. No problem. We'll just go up the stairs, grab her off the porch, and just sort of tiptoe in the front door.”

“But Flo's in the living room,” Miri reminded her.

“Oh. Right. Okay, once we have Cookie, we'll zip around to the back and go through the kitchen to Grandma's room. And if Grandma's not in there, we'll just—just—
find
her. Right?”

“Right,” said Miri, trying and failing to sound confident. If Flo caught them, what then?

“We can't let Flo stop us,” said Molly fiercely, as if she'd read Miri's mind. “We need to talk to Grandma.”

Once again, they set out through the maze of branches—Miri extra careful this time—and sidled around the posts that marked the stairs. Miri noticed that the stairs were painted white. In her time, they were green. White looked better, she thought. Maybe we should repaint ours. She shook the thought away. Focus!

Cookie eyed the approaching enemy and decided on a strategic retreat. She padded deeper into the porch, where the wicker chairs were arranged in a circle, and jumped up on a rocking chair.

Miri and Molly glared at the kitten in silent exasperation and tiptoed toward the rocker. Molly reached out, ready to scoop.

Cookie jumped to the floor.

“Dang!” muttered Molly as Cookie skittered through her fingers.

“I've got her!” puffed Miri, lunging.

“It's the
Gypsies
!” shrieked Flo dramatically, appearing on the porch.

Startled, Miri glanced up, and Cookie slithered from her grip. “Cu-
rap
!” she yelled.

“Those are Gypsies?” inquired the voice of Mr. Whoever-he-was, from the doorway. “They don't look like Gypsies.”

“They're Gypsy tramps,” wailed Flo. “Look at them!”

“Oh, Flo, shut
up
!” panted Molly, her eyes on Cookie's retreating behind. “Gotcha!” she cried.

Cookie slid triumphantly through Molly's fingers and scanned the porch for another escape hatch. Aha! The door!

“How do you know my name, you nasty thing?” squalled Flo.

“She's heading inside!” called Miri.

“I've got her,” the man said calmly, bending down. But Cookie darted around him and galloped over the threshold. The man straightened. “Then again, maybe I don't.” He grinned.

“Come back, you devil-kitty!” said Miri.

“Saints alive!” squealed Flo. “The cat's possessed!”

“Jeez, Flo, just calm down!” Miri said irritably, moving after the kitten. She was almost inside when she realized that Molly wasn't next to her. “Molly!” she called, turning back. “Come on!”

Molly didn't move. She stood frozen, her eyes glued to the man beside Flo, the color draining from her face. Miri spun to him, but he wasn't doing anything frightening that she could see. He was smiling, almost laughing, while Flo, red-faced from yelling, continued to rant about Gypsies and devils. He was a tall man, very tanned, and one of his hands was wrapped in a white bandage. That's why he couldn't catch Cookie, thought Miri briefly. She called again, “Molly!”

Molly didn't move.

What had happened to her? Miri began to panic. “Mols! Come on! Snap out of it!”

“That's it!” shrieked Flo. “I'm getting my shotgun!”

The man really did laugh at that. “Never fear, Miss Gliscoe! I will protect you from these dangerous criminals.”

Flo didn't seem to understand that he was joking. “You're so brave,” she whimpered, edging close to him. “I'm awful frightened.”

“Move, Molly. Please,” begged Miri, casting a desperate look at the kitten prancing down the hallway.

Molly took a step, but it was in the wrong direction, and Miri saw the dizzy sway of her shoulders. “Molly!” she cried, and charged for her, grabbing her hand and yanking her toward the hallway. “Hang in there. We'll just get Cookie—that's all, and then we'll find your—”

“Molly?” A light voice seemed to still the frenzy around them, and Molly's white face seemed to flicker back to life. “Molly, sweetheart?” And there, in the hallway, was May, much younger than before, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling with astonishment.