insisted that the onions had never failed and, grimly, kept on. Granny was wet with perspiration and again we changed her linen. We were in a state between wakefulness and sleep; heavy fatigue had slipped over us all. The three of us dozed uncomfortably in armchairs we’d squeezed around the two narrow beds in the sickroom. My joints were stiff and aching. In the middle of the night Granny hauled herself to a sitting position, bolt upright, and shouted, “What’s the news, good or bad?” The onion plasters peeled off her as she rose.
We were so startled and so fatigued Mother and Lyd and I looked at one another and began to laugh—huge guffawing laughs—until tears rolled down our cheeks. Mother laughed the loudest. Granny Tracks held her tongue while she watched the three of us and then said disgustedly, “Damned fools,” which set us off again. She lowered herself onto the sheet and dropped into a deep and prolonged sleep. The next day she began to get better. She refused to talk about her illness; it was as if it hadn’t been.
I’d begun to get used to the trains next to Granny’s. It was comforting to lie there and listen as they pulled out of Darley, their thin mournful wails trailing through the night. What I did not like was the sound of footsteps crossing the verandawhen someone passed by outside in the dark. Lyd and I lay in the double bed staring at the ceiling. Heavy footsteps walked across the room. Our room, the front bedroom, was directly over the street.
“This place is starting to give me the creeps,” Lyd said.
I tried to will myself to sleep. Footsteps crossed the room again. I felt Lyd’s body tense beside me. Moments later—it seemed like moments later—I opened my eyes.
Lyd was sitting up staring at what I now saw at the foot of the bed. A greenish glow surrounded the figure of a man I did not know. He seemed edgeless, somehow, but no part of him moved. His eyes glowered from under heavy brows. Though he hadn’t spoken, I knew he wanted us out of Granny’s bed. He wanted Granny back in her own room.
I heard my voice give up a shout. The green glow faded and he was gone. Lyd ran to the light switch and turned it on. It was ten past four in the morning. We’d been asleep for hours. My heart was beating so quickly, my mouth so dry, I wasn’t able to speak.
“We have to get out of Granny’s bed,” Lyd said.
We didn’t talk about how we both knew this. Maybe, I told myself, maybe we shared the same bad dream. I tried to push the dream out of my mind. But there was something else, something about the heavy brows, that I couldn’t forget. We didn’t want to stay in the room any longer so we dragged the blankets down the tower stairs and spent the hours until daybreak huddled together on the couch.
Lorne was at the curb, in the Ford, waiting for us before breakfast. He’d brought Granny Tracks some tea fromlegumes he’d grown himself. He’d roasted the leaves and pods on cookie sheets in the farm-oven and packed them into a biscuit tin. Mother tried to persuade him to have eggs and bacon with us but he refused. He handed over the tea and stared at a patch in the linoleum.
Mother took advantage of Lome’s unannounced visit to send Lyd and me back to the farm. She was going to stay until Granny could manage the stairs and, after that, Aunt Arra would take over.
“Tell your father I’ll get to the farm when I can,” she said. “You two help Aunt Lucy with the meals, and keep an eye on Eddie.” I knew she would stay until she was no longer needed. But when I looked at the dark shadows around her eyes, I knew she had fallen into the heaviness of that house and would have no chance to escape, or to get away.
Lyd and I gathered our clothes and changed the sheets and helped Granny back to her own big room. Sitting in bed in a knitted shrug, drinking Lome’s tea, she didn’t look at all like delirious Granny Tracks smothered under onion plasters. Lome would not come upstairs
We were so startled and so fatigued Mother and Lyd and I looked at one another and began to laugh—huge guffawing laughs—until tears rolled down our cheeks. Mother laughed the loudest. Granny Tracks held her tongue while she watched the three of us and then said disgustedly, “Damned fools,” which set us off again. She lowered herself onto the sheet and dropped into a deep and prolonged sleep. The next day she began to get better. She refused to talk about her illness; it was as if it hadn’t been.
I’d begun to get used to the trains next to Granny’s. It was comforting to lie there and listen as they pulled out of Darley, their thin mournful wails trailing through the night. What I did not like was the sound of footsteps crossing the verandawhen someone passed by outside in the dark. Lyd and I lay in the double bed staring at the ceiling. Heavy footsteps walked across the room. Our room, the front bedroom, was directly over the street.
“This place is starting to give me the creeps,” Lyd said.
I tried to will myself to sleep. Footsteps crossed the room again. I felt Lyd’s body tense beside me. Moments later—it seemed like moments later—I opened my eyes.
Lyd was sitting up staring at what I now saw at the foot of the bed. A greenish glow surrounded the figure of a man I did not know. He seemed edgeless, somehow, but no part of him moved. His eyes glowered from under heavy brows. Though he hadn’t spoken, I knew he wanted us out of Granny’s bed. He wanted Granny back in her own room.
I heard my voice give up a shout. The green glow faded and he was gone. Lyd ran to the light switch and turned it on. It was ten past four in the morning. We’d been asleep for hours. My heart was beating so quickly, my mouth so dry, I wasn’t able to speak.
“We have to get out of Granny’s bed,” Lyd said.
We didn’t talk about how we both knew this. Maybe, I told myself, maybe we shared the same bad dream. I tried to push the dream out of my mind. But there was something else, something about the heavy brows, that I couldn’t forget. We didn’t want to stay in the room any longer so we dragged the blankets down the tower stairs and spent the hours until daybreak huddled together on the couch.
Lorne was at the curb, in the Ford, waiting for us before breakfast. He’d brought Granny Tracks some tea fromlegumes he’d grown himself. He’d roasted the leaves and pods on cookie sheets in the farm-oven and packed them into a biscuit tin. Mother tried to persuade him to have eggs and bacon with us but he refused. He handed over the tea and stared at a patch in the linoleum.
Mother took advantage of Lome’s unannounced visit to send Lyd and me back to the farm. She was going to stay until Granny could manage the stairs and, after that, Aunt Arra would take over.
“Tell your father I’ll get to the farm when I can,” she said. “You two help Aunt Lucy with the meals, and keep an eye on Eddie.” I knew she would stay until she was no longer needed. But when I looked at the dark shadows around her eyes, I knew she had fallen into the heaviness of that house and would have no chance to escape, or to get away.
Lyd and I gathered our clothes and changed the sheets and helped Granny back to her own big room. Sitting in bed in a knitted shrug, drinking Lome’s tea, she didn’t look at all like delirious Granny Tracks smothered under onion plasters. Lome would not come upstairs
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