The Doll in the Garden

Chapter 15

How Can We Save Louisa?

"THAT OLD WITCH! I hate her!" Kristi cried. Then she buried her face in her hands and wept. "Why did Louisa have to die?" she sobbed. "Why couldn't she have gotten well?"

"If anybody had to die," I said, "it should have been Miss Cooper, not Louisa."

It was a terrible thing to say, but it was true. The world was so unfair when it came to dying. The best people, the ones you loved the most, died and other people, mean and nasty, lived and went right on being mean and nasty all their lives. Louisa and Daddy - why them and not Miss Cooper?

Fighting back tears, I watched a butterfly come to rest on a hollyhock below me. It fanned its wings, and the sun shone right through them, making them glow. Then a breeze swayed the flower, and the butterfly drifted away.

"If we could give Anna Maria back to Louisa," I said, "maybe she wouldn't die. Maybe we could change what happened."

Kristi's face lit up with hope. "Do you mean we could save her life?"

"Suppose she's getting weaker because she's so sad about losing her doll? If we made her happy, she'd get stronger and maybe she'd get well."

Kristi nodded, but then she frowned again. "We still don't have Anna Maria," she reminded me.

"We'll get her somehow," I said, "even if we have to sneak in Miss Cooper's house and steal her."

When Brian bellowed for Kristi, I scrambled down from the tree house and slowly climbed the steps to our apartment.

Mom was waiting for me on the porch. "Miss Cooper has complained again," she said wearily. "She told me you were rude to her. You rang her bell and banged on the door and then ran into Kristi's yard and hid. Is this true, Ashley?"

I stared down at my bare feet, too ashamed to look Mom in the eve. Without meaning to, I'd upset her and interrupted her work again. Why was I always making her unhappy?

In the growing silence, Mom sighed. "Are you still angry about the doll?"

"She doesn't belong to Miss Cooper!" I stopped and bit my lip. How could I make Mom understand? Thinking carefully, I asked, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

Mom looked puzzled. "What do ghosts have to do with Miss Cooper and the doll?"

"Just tell me," I said. "Do you believe in them?"

"Sometimes," Mom said. "Especially after your father died. There were mornings when I woke up, sure he was sleeping beside me; times I'd walk into a room positive he'd just left - I'd even smell his pipe smoke, hear his footsteps, catch glimpses of him on crowded streets." Her voice trailed off and she slid her arm around me, hugging me close.

As she held me tightly, I was afraid to look at Mom. I knew how hard she tried to hide her feelings from me, to be brave.

"Did you ever think, though," I asked her, "that maybe he still exists in another time and you could go back to the years before he died and see him again?"

"Oh, Ashley, it was my own memories of Fred, not his actual presence, that haunted me." Mom sighed. She had said all she was going to say on the subject. And she had heard all she wanted to hear.

For a while we sat together, side by side but a million miles apart. If only I could tell her how angry I felt at Daddy for making us so sad, but I was sure she wouldn't understand.

***

That night, I woke up after midnight. Oscar was prowling back and forth on the windowsill, his tail twitching, and Max was barking.

"What's out there?" Miss Cooper cried. "Go get it, Max."

Pressing my face against the screen, I saw Snowball standing in a square of light shining from Miss Cooper's kitchen window. Then Miss Cooper's door opened, and Max charged outside. Snowball stood his ground, and to my surprise, Max retreated while Miss Cooper called, "Shoo, shoo, get away from here!"

While I watched, Snowball stalked toward the house. Like a cat in slow motion, he moved one paw ahead, then another. His bushy tail stood straight up and his fur puffed out, making him look twice his normal size. Even though I knew he meant me no harm, he frightened me.

"Go away!" Miss Cooper begged. "Go back where you belong!"

Her door slammed, and the kitchen light went out. Although the lawn was swallowed up in shadows, I could see Snowball's white fur glimmering. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I watched him pace back and forth, gazing up at the house. It wasn't me he was looking at this time, and when I called his name he didn't respond.

Twitching his tail. Snowball began to meow. Gradually he worked himself up into full cry and yowled until he woke Mom.

Joining me at my window, she asked, "is that the cat you were talking about?"

"Isn't he beautiful?"

"Frankly," Mom said, as Snowball continued yowling, "beautiful isn't the first word that comes to my mind when a cat wakes me up at one A.M."

Shoving the screen up, Mom stuck her head out. "Shush!" she yelled at Snowball, "Scat!"

The cat looked up at Mom and me just as Miss Cooper hurled a bucket of water out the back door. He spun about and hissed, then turned and ran across the lawn. While we watched, he darted under the hedge and disappeared into Louisa's yard.

"Old witch," I muttered as Miss Cooper's door slammed.

"Oh, Ashley," Mom sighed. Her hand lingered on my hair, smoothing it as it tumbled down my back. "If she hadn't done it, I'd have thrown the water myself. I need my sleep, and so do you."

She kissed me good night, and I crawled back under my covers, too tired to worry about Louisa. "Don't cry any more tonight," I whispered to her. "Please don't cry. I'll get the doll, I promise."