The Wishing Star (15 page)

Farther down the path Mary Beth and Cindy joined them. But this school year, the two girls whispered just between themselves, and they seldom made a place for her. Jenny had noticed, but only Timothy dared explain it to her. “It's cause of Martin Harris being credulous.”

“What do you mean?” She had kept her voice low, as the girls in front of them began to hurry. “It's all this about Joe Smith and the plates. Pa says people aren't taken in by it at all, leastwise no one much except Martin Harris.”

“I suppose so,” Jenny answered slowly, “but why does it make Mary Beth and Cindy shun me?”

“They think you are credulous too.” Jenny had forgotten about the conversation with Timothy until late in October. Halloween was next week and the students were trying to outdo each other with stories of mystery and terror. Equally fantastic stories of bravery and daring surfaced. At noon Jenny joined the groups around the story-tellers and blended her screams of terror with others.

When there were no more stories to be told, Jeff Naylor began questioning Jenny. “I hear old Harris believes all those stories the Smiths have been circulating.”

Jenny looked about the group, searching vainly for one of Joseph's brothers or sisters. Finally she straightened her back and met the curious eyes. “You'll have to be askin' him that. If you're tryin' to pin me with believing ghost stories told by the big people, I can't help you. I've never seen a ghost.”

“And what would you do if you did?”

“Not believe it until I could walk right through him,” she replied saucily.

Now Cindy, with her eyes wide, said, “I heard Samuel Smith say they were out digging over by the old schoolhouse one night and it all lit up. He said there was a fella at least nine feet tall sitting on the roof, yelling at them to clear out.”

The group groaned their awe and dismay; Jenny thought about the story she'd heard Martin telling. Mary Beth was studying her intently. Jenny forced a smile and said, “Credulous they are. Now I don't believe—”

Nicholas interrupted, “Everybody that isn't credulous stick up your hand.” And when all hands were quickly raised, he continued. “Okay, tomorrow's Halloween. I say you all be here at the schoolhouse just as soon as it's dark, and we'll all go over to the old school and prove there's no such thing as spooks.” His eyes were on Jenny as he said, “And if you can get some doughnuts and apples, all the better; we'll make it a party. But you better all be here or we'll come after you.”

The next evening Lucy Harris said, “I don't have any doughnuts, and that's the silliest thing I've heard of, going out there just to scare yourselves. You can take some apples.”

As soon as the supper dishes were washed, Jenny wrapped Tom's old jacket around herself and stuffed the pockets with apples. Her excitement was almost as high as the time she had followed Tom and Martin to their meeting with Walters. But now as she scurried down the dark path, she felt her emotions flattening. “Silly baby stuff,” she muttered, “pretendin' there's ghosts and goblins just to get scared.”

Norton and Jeff and Nicholas had lanterns. Cindy and Mary Beth came with their pockets loaded with doughnuts. Norton was licking his lips with anticipation as he said, “Leave the goodies here. After we go and investigate the spooks, we'll all meet back here and eat the doughnuts. You fellas douse the lights when we get to the edge of the cornfield. We don't want anyone to see us and have a hysteria.”

There were giggles, and a long line formed behind the lantern-bearers. “Quiet back there. Not a sound, now!”

A lonesome voice from the back of the line squeaked, “If the sheriff finds out, will he put us all in jail?” Hoots of laughter drowned the young boy's fears.

Only a sliver of moon hung in the sky, and even that disappeared as the path dipped into the trees. The group walked in silence except for an occasional gasp of dismay as someone bumped into his neighbor or a tree.

When they could hear the rustle of dry cornstalks, the warning hiss came to darken the lanterns. The wind was rising; Jenny could hear it keening through the fir trees. The sliver of moonlight appeared and disappeared as clouds blew by, and from behind Jenny came nervous whispers.

When they reached the far side of the cornfield, they could see the shadowy bulk of the old schoolhouse. The rising wind slapped loose shutters, and the sudden banging brought out a nervous whimper. Quietly the group formed a semicircle on the edge of the deserted school yard.

The creaking old building was dark. Norton said bravely, “There's not even a ghost on the roof.” They waited and the quietness of the night seemed to grow, broadcasting whispers of sound. The soft sighs of the students became eerie, and chattering teeth seemed to pound in Jenny's ears. When the clouds drifted away from the moon, Nicholas whispered, “Everybody satisfied?”

“We haven't even looked inside,” voiced someone.

There was another whimper. “My ma said to hurry home.”

Then out of the silence. “Seems a brave body oughta go inside and investigate.”

“Without a light?”

After a pause. “There a volunteer?” Only the shuffle of feet in the dry grass broke the silence.

“Seems the one accused of being credulous would be the most eager.”

The cornstalks rustled, the wind rose. Finally Jenny moved and swallowed hard. “You're meanin' me. So, we can't go have doughnuts 'til I do.” She tried to make her voice brave, but it was thin, and the only response was silence.

Again feet shuffled and teeth chattered. The group melted back and Jenny faced the sagging door. “Oh, you babies,” she hissed, moving quickly toward the door. In the sliver of moonlight, she could see the broken floor slanting inward. “How far do I go?” she whispered.

“To the far wall,” a voice breathed in her ear. She shivered and stepped toward the slanting floor.

There was a hand in her back. She opened her mouth to protest, but her feet were on the slanting boards, and the boards were moving with a life of their own. Behind her the door crashed shut, and sealed Jenny in oppressive darkness.

When she slammed into the far wall, Jenny sat for a moment, stunned and trembling. Close to her head a rhythmic tapping began and a ghostly laugh rose. “Let me out!” she screamed. The laugh was drifting away.

Jenny jumped to her feet but the boards tilted, dumping her. She scrambled, scratching and clawing her way up the ruined floor. Now sobbing with terror, she discovered she was surrounded by boards that had a will of their own. They slanted and dumped her, pricked and stabbed. Some boards bound her feet and others slapped her face. In the deep darkness only silence answered her cries.

When she was nearly voiceless from screaming, she heard a sound. Rats. Rustles, scratching, a noise that must be gnawing; she gave one last feeble scream of terror.

A voice answered her. The schoolhouse door creaked outward and a dark shadow filled the doorway. Jenny flew toward it. Warm flesh, a beard and musty wool were against her face. It was a strange beard, but at least it wasn't rats.

“What happened?” The voice was strangely melodious, strangely familiar. He led her away from the building while she gasped out her story.

In the dim lantern light she could see the beard, the black cloak, and a shiny disk. The last time she had seen that disk it had been circling and glowing in the light of a lantern beside the diggings. She studied the man's face. “Are you Walters the Magician?”

“Of course. Who else would I be?” The remembered melody of his voice returned to her. Forgetting her terror and exhaustion, Jenny wanted only to hear him reading those singing words out of his book again.

Chapter 11

Did her encounter with Walters the Magician radically change Jenny, or was it the final disappointment of her friends' betrayal? Whatever the answer, Halloween night irreparably separated Jenny from her schoolmates. She felt the division strongly. Jenny stood alone, the one against the many.

Fortunately for Jenny, the Smith youngsters returned to school. They were immediately pushed to her side of the chasm. Now Jenny had friends, just as she also had a label she didn't understand.

She continued to skirt the hills going to and from school, lonely now in her solitary walk. As autumn passed, she began to experience the deepening calm of the trees—or so she thought it.

One afternoon as she stood beneath a fir tree, watching the wind lash its top branches, she felt as if her mind were unfurling and becoming one with the surging forces of nature. The sensation of sharpened awareness left her feeling as if she were mentally standing on tiptoe.

The silence surrounded her, sharpened and real. What was happening? Was this sensation rising only from the wellspring of loneliness in her life?

Waiting, wondering if it was all just chance, she reached out, wanting to touch that appealing sense of aliveness. She sat motionless, unmindful of the cold, searching for words that would link her with that sensation of mystery. Finally a scrap of rhyme popped into her mind.

“Luna, every woman's friend,

To me thy goodness condescend,

Let this night in visions see

Emblems of my destiny.”

Jenny had started reading the green book again, and lately a strangeness surrounded her reading. She had been reaching out to the unknown and now the unknown was reaching out to her.

The penetrating cold through Jenny's thin shawl brought her back to reality. Shivering, she hurried down the path toward the farm. She thought of Lucy Harris nodding by the fire in the evening, while Jenny carried the green book downstairs to read. Although Lucy had made clear to Jenny her feelings about the book with the golden lady on the front, she had never forbidden Jenny to read it. For the first time since she had discovered Pa's strange book and been captivated by it, Jenny felt completely free of the fear of punishment.

As Jenny passed the wind-lashed firs each day, her thoughts always seemed to circle back to the book as if drawn into focus by the forest.

The forest attracted more than Jenny's thoughts. One evening, a sudden impulse sent her scurrying from the familiar path into the trees. Once she entered the shadowed depths, a new quietness surrounded her. She wandered deeper into the woods, and her mind wandered as well. Without willing it, pictures from the book leaped into her thoughts—some intriguing, some frightening. Immediately her mind was filled with alarm, as if a thousand warning bells hammered in her soul.

Shivering with fear, Jenny turned and ran back to the path, back to daylight and away from the eerie calmness. Did she fancy she heard her name called as she left the forest? She ran the rest of the way home. Not until she stood panting on the stoop outside Harris's kitchen did she dare to admit, “If I didn't believe in spooks before, I'm beginnin' to now.”

The next time Jenny passed along the path, while the wind moaned and the trees lashed, she found herself hesitating, reaching out, wanting to know. Again, quickly before she could debate, she turned off the path and the lashing trees for the calm forest.

The mysterious stillness had begun to encircle her with a reality that tightened her throat and made her heart pound, when just ahead of her she saw a dark-clad figure moving slowly through the woods, poking at drifts of leaves with a long stick.

With relief Jenny ran toward the figure. “Hello there!” she called.

The woman turned and waited for her. “Are you lost?” she called. As she hurried toward the woman, Jenny studied her face, trying to identify the stranger. Surprisingly, the dark-cloaked woman was young and beautiful. In the shadows her face seemed a pale oval, but her eyes were large and dark. Her dark hair was swept back from her brow, and the widow's peak made her face heart-shaped.

Jenny was still studying the woman, wishing she could be just like her, slowly Jenny said, “I don't reckon I know you. I'm Jenny Timmons, the Harris's hired girl.”

The woman nodded as if she knew. “You're very young to be working for your living.” Without warning, tears stung Jenny's eyes. She rubbed at them, wondering why she was feeling the kindness so keenly. “Your parents have left you here. Do you miss them greatly?” Jenny shook her head, wondering how to answer such a question.

Slowly they walked together through the woods. Jenny responded to the gentle, probing questions as she still tried to identify the woman. Her face seemed familiar, but Jenny couldn't make her fit anywhere.

Suddenly the woman stopped. She pointed, saying, “There's Martin Harris's cornfield; you can cut through here.”

“Oh my!” Jenny exclaimed. “We've circled the whole farm. I didn't mean for you to take me home.” The woman was smiling, stepping backward down the trail. Jenny watched her curiously. “What's your name?”

She hesitated. “You may call me Adela.”

“That's pretty. It sounds like bells.” Now shy, Jenny dropped her head and scuffed her toe in the pine needles, wondering when she had ever before chattered on like this to a perfect stranger. She raised her head to speak, but the woman was gone.

Several times during the winter months, Jenny saw Adela when she ventured into the forest on her way home from school. Always she seemed to be poking, prodding with her stick, always alone. Jenny never felt free to ask about her activities nor to learn more about her.

One evening as Jenny left the forest after an encounter with the woman, she mused aloud, “Methinks, Adela the bella, you're as mysterious as—as a sylph.” Her tongue slid over the unfamiliar word. Hadn't that word been in the book? She began to wonder why Adela made her think of the book. And more and more she realized that she didn't know the mysterious woman at all.

Finally, shyly, she described Adela to Lucy Harris and found her description as vaporous as her understanding of the woman. Lucy looked at her in confusion and Jenny ended her questions with a shrug.