was another kind of creepy. When she stepped inside, darkness surrounded her. As her vision adjusted to the dim light, her nose and her lungs filled with thick mothball-and-gardenia scented air, causing a cough she couldn’t suppress.
“This way, dear.”
Julia followed closely and entered the living room within seconds. Packed full of stuff, it looked like the antique resale shop she and her mom had stopped by on the way to San Antonio a couple of summers before. Only a narrow trail led to the couch.
“Have a seat,” the lady said, lighting a lantern that sat on the table. “I’ll be right back.”
No electricity?
The room lazily awoke with colors and individual animated pieces. Heavy drapes—dark red, orange and purple striped—covered the one large front window. Posters of men in top hats, ladies in leotards, Ferris wheels, and balloons covered the walls. Three life-sized stuffed bears and cluttered tables filled the room. She also noticed the crystal balls on gold stands, burning candles, and stacks and stacks of old books. The more Julia examined the room, the more she confirmed her suspicions that Poppi’s grandmother practiced, or used to practice, some sort of fortune telling.
She stood to leave, remembering something her dad always said, “You can’t kid a kidder.” She knew she was over her head.
The lady walked back inside the room carrying a tray with one hand and her cane in the other.
“Oh,” Julia said, “Let me help you with that.”
“Thank you.” Poppi’s grandmother released the tray of assorted cookies to her. Julia set it on the coffee table, having to scoot a pillar candle and a bowl of rotting apples down a bit to make room.
“Have a cookie.” The old lady smiled, her teeth obviously her own.
Julia hesitated, but she couldn’t be rude. If she had to die by poisoned cookie, she would take the chocolate one. She sat back down, picked it up, and nibbled on the edge a little. “Ummm. Thank you.”
“I would have brought some tea, but I’m afraid I couldn’t carry it all at once.”
“No, no. These are fine.”
The woman grunted as she sat down in a rocking chair beside the couch. “I don’t get many callers. It is so nice for you to stop in. What church did you say you were from?”
What church indeed, Julia thought. No, she hadn’t mentioned. She looked away so that the lady wouldn’t be able to tell by her eye movement that she was not telling the truth. “First Baptist.”
“Oh, and you’re going around the neighborhood at night, by yourself, telling people about it?”
“Yeah,” Julia said. That was stupid to say. And she had told Tanner to stop being so impulsive.
“I admire your dedication,” the lady said, the shadow of a bear’s claw across her face. They stared at each other for a minute.
Julia decided to change the subject. “Quite a collection you have.”
“I suppose I should get rid of it.” The lady sighed. “It’s so hard to let go sometimes.”
The lady looked up and to the right. Julia knew by studying visual cues in the Frogs into Princes book that the woman was visualizing her past, and was most likely right handed. Not the kind of information that would help…
“Perhaps it’s a punishment for my choices,” she continued. “A way to remember what I’ve done. A way to remind me not to let it happen again. Evil is in the hearts of men. Evil and heartache. Trust should not be given, because trust is the one thing that can destroy us. Misery is our punishment, and I guess I keep all of this junk so I won’t forget.”
Julia thought now would be a good time to excuse herself. She could tell the lady to come visit her church on Sunday. However… she didn’t want to leave empty handed. She had made it inside enemy camp; she hadn’t foamed at the mouth from the cookie yet, so she figured she should at least try to take advantage of being there. If she couldn’t convince the lady to let her granddaughter go, maybe she
“This way, dear.”
Julia followed closely and entered the living room within seconds. Packed full of stuff, it looked like the antique resale shop she and her mom had stopped by on the way to San Antonio a couple of summers before. Only a narrow trail led to the couch.
“Have a seat,” the lady said, lighting a lantern that sat on the table. “I’ll be right back.”
No electricity?
The room lazily awoke with colors and individual animated pieces. Heavy drapes—dark red, orange and purple striped—covered the one large front window. Posters of men in top hats, ladies in leotards, Ferris wheels, and balloons covered the walls. Three life-sized stuffed bears and cluttered tables filled the room. She also noticed the crystal balls on gold stands, burning candles, and stacks and stacks of old books. The more Julia examined the room, the more she confirmed her suspicions that Poppi’s grandmother practiced, or used to practice, some sort of fortune telling.
She stood to leave, remembering something her dad always said, “You can’t kid a kidder.” She knew she was over her head.
The lady walked back inside the room carrying a tray with one hand and her cane in the other.
“Oh,” Julia said, “Let me help you with that.”
“Thank you.” Poppi’s grandmother released the tray of assorted cookies to her. Julia set it on the coffee table, having to scoot a pillar candle and a bowl of rotting apples down a bit to make room.
“Have a cookie.” The old lady smiled, her teeth obviously her own.
Julia hesitated, but she couldn’t be rude. If she had to die by poisoned cookie, she would take the chocolate one. She sat back down, picked it up, and nibbled on the edge a little. “Ummm. Thank you.”
“I would have brought some tea, but I’m afraid I couldn’t carry it all at once.”
“No, no. These are fine.”
The woman grunted as she sat down in a rocking chair beside the couch. “I don’t get many callers. It is so nice for you to stop in. What church did you say you were from?”
What church indeed, Julia thought. No, she hadn’t mentioned. She looked away so that the lady wouldn’t be able to tell by her eye movement that she was not telling the truth. “First Baptist.”
“Oh, and you’re going around the neighborhood at night, by yourself, telling people about it?”
“Yeah,” Julia said. That was stupid to say. And she had told Tanner to stop being so impulsive.
“I admire your dedication,” the lady said, the shadow of a bear’s claw across her face. They stared at each other for a minute.
Julia decided to change the subject. “Quite a collection you have.”
“I suppose I should get rid of it.” The lady sighed. “It’s so hard to let go sometimes.”
The lady looked up and to the right. Julia knew by studying visual cues in the Frogs into Princes book that the woman was visualizing her past, and was most likely right handed. Not the kind of information that would help…
“Perhaps it’s a punishment for my choices,” she continued. “A way to remember what I’ve done. A way to remind me not to let it happen again. Evil is in the hearts of men. Evil and heartache. Trust should not be given, because trust is the one thing that can destroy us. Misery is our punishment, and I guess I keep all of this junk so I won’t forget.”
Julia thought now would be a good time to excuse herself. She could tell the lady to come visit her church on Sunday. However… she didn’t want to leave empty handed. She had made it inside enemy camp; she hadn’t foamed at the mouth from the cookie yet, so she figured she should at least try to take advantage of being there. If she couldn’t convince the lady to let her granddaughter go, maybe she
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