Willow House Chapter 20

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 Not in a Party Mood

      “Ella, that’s impossible. The house was built before the turn of the century. That would make Mrs. Hallovich . . . “ Mom stops and calculates, “ nearly 130 years old.”

     “Yes. I already did the math.” 

     I’ve just given Mom and Dad a brief summary of some of the story Mrs. H. told me about Willow House.

     “You know that just can’t be true. Right?” Mom continues. “She may look good for her age but, even with a stretch of imagination, I wouldn’t put her a day over 70.”

     I don’t know what to think. I want everything to be true. I don’t believe that Mrs. Hallovich would lie. She probably just has the details and the years mixed up. Maybe, though, she really is losing it. This thought makes me sad. Like I’ve just lost someone. I look over at Dad who’s quietly eating his food and listening to our conversation.

     “Don’t let it bother you, Sweetheart. She’s probably just confused about the details, . . .  and the years.”

     Is Dad reading my mind too? Can anyone just walk up and read my mind?!

     I nod. “Yeah. Maybe I misunderstood some stuff too.” I ask to be excused from the table. “I think I’m gonna go lie down for awhile before the party.”

     “I’ll be up to check on you in a little bit,” Dad says.

     I am so confused. I’m sad because that was our last day at Willow House. I’m worried that Mrs. Hallovich is losing her marbles. I’m anxious about the tea party invitations. I’m disgusted with myself for lying to my best friend. I want to crawl into a hole and not come out until school starts again at the end of August. My life is terrible. How am I going to face my friends tonight?

     A few tears sneak out and run down the side of my nose. A few others follow. Tears scurry down my face.

     There’s a knock at the door.

     I sniffle as much of the tears up my nose as I can, and wipe my face with my moose’s ear.

     “Come in,” I say.

     I know Dad can tell I’ve been crying. Sometimes I watch myself cry in the mirror. My nose gets bigger and turns red. There’s no hiding that. He sits down on the bed next to me and pulls me into a hug.

     “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Dad asks. “I know you can’t be this upset that Mrs. Hallovich got a little carried away with her story.”

     “It’s not just that,” I say.

     He waits for me to go on, but my words are all stuck in a jam in my throat. There’s too many of them and they can’t decide who’s first, so they’re just clogged up. I have been such an idiot lately. All I can do is shake my head and start to cry again. Not even Dad can help me now.

     Dad grabs a tissue from my nightstand and holds me close for a while. He lets me cry until I’m pretty much cried out.

     “You are going to go and have a good time with your friends tonight, and when you wake up tomorrow morning, I promise you, things will not look so bad.” Dad stands up and faces me. “Your face is a different story.”  

    It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about my big red nose and the scratch on my face, and not any unappealing facial features. This makes me laugh a little. No one can make me feel better like my dad can.

     He lays his hands on my shoulders. “If you decide you want to talk about something, you know where to find me.”

     I’m still sniffling a little but at least now I can smile. “Thanks.” 

     He turns to go.

     “Dad?” I say.

     He turns back around.

     “Why did you move us here?”      

     “Where did that come from? I thought you loved it here.”

     Truth is, I did love it here, until I messed things up. Once again my words aren’t sure who wants to come out. I think Dad knows I just want his company for a little while longer, so he sits back down beside me.

     “I moved us here on the advice of my Grandpa.”

     “Grandpa Frank.” 

     “Yes. Grandpa Frank.”

     I’ve heard this story before, but I’m in the mood for hearing stories. I tell Dad to go on.

     “I never knew much about my Grandpa’s past,” he started. “I spent a lot of time with him, but he didn’t really share much about his childhood, and since I was a kid, I never thought to ask. I don’t even know when he was born.” My dad stops and looks at me. “You know, now that I think of it, your great-grandpa had to have been pretty doggone old. Maybe there’s something in the water here. Maybe Mrs. Hallovich really is 130.” He laughs at his own joke, but when he sees that I’m not laughing, he stops. “Too soon?” he asks. 

     I nod, and he moves on.

     “When he got sick a few years ago, I spent his last days in the hospital with him. There was nothing to do except talk, so I started asking him questions. I found out that he came from Saint Clair, and even though he didn’t share a lot of personal stuff about living here, he told me enough about the town itself to get me interested. It sounded like a great spot to get my landscaping business off the ground, so I came to see it for myself. He was right. I loved it when I saw it! It’s a beautiful town.”

     Dad looks down at me. “You are happy here, aren’t you?”

    “Yes,” I say. That’s the truth.

     “Good. Now, why don’t you splash some water on your face, put on a fresh bandage, maybe one with sparkles, and get ready for the sleepover. You’re going to have a fantastic time. And you’ve still got a whole summer to look forward to.”

     I was thinking the opposite. The summer seemed like it was never gonna end.

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Willow House Chapter 19

 

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Love at First Sight

     “Where did we leave off, Ella?” 

     It seems like it took forever to get out here to the porch. I was hoping that Mrs. H. wasn’t going to ask me to return to the greenhouse for our shoes.Thankfully, she did it herself. From where I sit by the front window, I can see Tommy snoozing away in the study. We’re in the home stretch of our last minutes here, and it’s ridiculous how much unfinished business there is, but at least I’m going to hear the end of the story Mrs. H. started.

     “We left off with how life took over while Lep was busy making plans.”

     “Oh, right. Before we start would you like me to get us a beverage?”

     “No! I’m fine. Get to the story!”

     She’s teasing me, but we’re running late, and my mom is picking us up early. For our last day Mrs. H. served a small cake for dessert. It was just like a birthday cake in miniature, with our names on top and a willow branch design down the sides. Yesterday, I would have appreciated those decorations more. Today they gave me the heebie jeebies. 

     “The thing that happened was me.”

     “What?”

     “Me. I’m the thing that happened while Lep was busy making plans.”

     “What does that even mean?”

     “I had been at my aunt’s for the summer. I was 21 years old and was just returning home as Lep was planning to leave.

     “I don’t get it.”

     “I’ll never forget stepping down from the carriage, the very same one that’s in the carriage house now. My mother ran down the walk and threw her arms around me. My father was just a step behind. The three of us stood there hugging, and crying, and laughing. It had been four months, and we were thrilled to be back together.”

     Mrs. Hallovich pauses for a minute. She’s smiling, and it’s like her eyes are focused on a movie that I can’t see. She continues.

     “As I blinked the moisture from my eyes, I saw him. He was standing behind my father. His hair was dark and he wore it just a bit longer than was fashionable, so it curled where it met his collar. His eyes were the color of honey. He was looking straight at me, and Ella, he was so handsome. We spoke of it later and agreed that it was like being struck by lightning.”

     “What are you saying?” But, I think I already know. It was like when I first saw the dollhouse.

     “Love at first sight, Dear.”

     Yep. That’s what I thought.

     “My father saw it happen, and I could see he was not pleased. He introduced us quickly and ushered Sam away.”

     “Wait a minute. Sam?!”

     “Yes. Sam. Lep was the nickname his gypsy family gave him.”

     Wow! I didn’t see see that coming either! So much for my detective skills.

     “My mother had also seen what passed between us, and I believe she was even more upset than Father.”

     William ushered Sam into his study. 

     “I guess you’ll be leaving soon,” he started. “I’m wondering if there is anything I can do to . . . uh . . . help you, in any way, to begin your next journey.”

     Sam was still reeling from the sight of Gwendolyn exiting the carriage.

     “I can’t believe that’s your Gwendolyn,” he said, ignoring William’s words.

     William took a deep breath, steadying himself and nodded.

     “She’s beautiful.”

     “She takes after her mother,” William said. He tried once more to distract Sam from the subject of his daughter. “Now, about your departure . . . “

     “Would you give me the honor of escorting your daughter to town? Perhaps to dinner?”

     There it was. What was William to do? Sam was his dearest old friend (old being an accurate word). He loved and respected Sam, but there were things about him that he didn’t know; things perhaps, that he didn’t want to know. William also understood that he might be agreeing to more than one simple dinner date.

      “Lep, though you don’t look a day over 30, you are a man nearing 50 years old. Compared to you, my Gwendolyn is a child.” William faltered. Fearing he was about to cross a line over which he may not be able to return, he plunged forward.  “No. You may not take Gwendolyn to dinner.”

     A darkness descended over Sam’s features.

     “I’m good enough to dig in your dirt, but not good enough for your daughter?”

     William’s own words from the past flew back at him like a slap in the face.

     “That was a long time ago. Things are different. You are different.”

     “I’ll leave tomorrow,” Sam said. He turned to go.

     “Lep, please! I’m so sorry. Try to understand!”

     The study door slammed shut. The frame holding the postcards of Sam’s travels fell to the rug below with a thump.

     Sam was good on his word. In the morning, William found the apartment over the carriage house empty. There was no sign that his friend had stayed there. William left the apartment and took a walk to the greenhouse: a masterpiece of a structure. It captured the morning sun, and reflected so much sky and green surroundings that it nearly disappeared. He felt the loss of his friend like a kick to the stomach. 

     William was sure, however, that he had done the right thing. He had a daughter to protect, though what he was protecting her from was unclear. 

     He carried on across the clearing and down the slope to the pond. He took in Lep’s handiwork here as well. Willow saplings, 28 of them, surrounded the water. They were young and stood straight. The characteristic ‘weeping’ of the branches would begin next summer. It would be a glorious sight.

     He heard a noise and turned to see his wife rushing toward him. Something was wrong.

     “What is it, Dear? What’s happened?”

     “It’s Gwendolyn,” Harriet said. She could barely get the words out.

     “What about Gwendolyn? Darling! What is it?!”

     William had turned her about and was ushering her back toward their house.

     “She’s gone.”

     William stopped short. Harriet crumpled to the ground at his feet. He felt the blood drain from his face and felt his heart as it shattered to pieces. He rested his hand softly on his wife’s head as she sobbed into the earth. William remained immobile for a long while, gazing out across the pond and the young weeping willows.

     “Where’d she go?” I asked. This was better than a movie!

     Mrs. H. looked at me and waited. She gave me a second to come back to earth.

     “Where did you go?” I corrected.

     “I followed Sam of course. I was young, I had just fallen in love, and the combination of those two things is quite dangerous. All rational thought left me.”

     I am blown away by this. I would never leave my family for the dollhouse. “But you’re here now.” I say.

     “Sam and I moved back a few years later, just before my father passed away.” 

     I need to know more, but Mom is pulling into the driveway. I am frustrated and Mrs. H. can read all of the questions spilling out of my eyes. 

     “It will be something for us to look forward to.” She smiles. “And don’t forget, I’ll be seeing you next Saturday for the party.”

     How could I have forgotten the party? I’ll see Daleni and the M&M’s tonight. 

     My brain feels like it’s going to explode right out of my head.

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Willow House Chapter 18

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 Scariest. Storm. Ever.

     Once the glass door is closed behind us, I feel immediately better. Looking through the walls to the outside, I can see that the dark clouds mean serious business. It looks like nighttime out there. The wind is whipping the wildflowers all over the place like it has anger issues.

     There’s a light switch right inside the front door. I flip it, and not only the chandelier lights up, but also some old fashioned light posts scattered around that I hadn’t paid any attention to before. They give the place a warm, cozy feeling. I take a couple of deep breaths and start to calm down.

     I look up to the chandelier. It’s prettier, all lit up, than I even imagined it would be. The black iron leaves that hang down have small crystals that cling to the edges and, with the electric candles shining through, they look like dew drops.

     Tommy reaches for my hand and tugs me around the corner and down to the little bridge that crosses over the stream. Maybe he wants another shot at communicating with the fish. 

     He sits down on a rock at the edge of the water and starts to take off his shoes. Mrs. H. told us to stay away from the water, but I’m pretty sure she meant no swimming in the pond. I take off my own shoes and hang my feet down into the stream. The water is freezing! But, the greenhouse, which had been warmed by the sun all morning (until the sun disappeared from the universe) feels pretty toasty. The combination is blissful.

     “Ahhhhhh. Isn’t this nice?” I say to Tommy.

     “Nice,” Tommy repeats. 

     I hear a bird chirping. Hubert! I had almost forgotten about Hubert! I want so much to see him before I leave today. His chirping gets a little louder and closer. He’s actually coming to talk to us! Yay!

     “Today!” Tommy says with glee. He stands up on the bank.

     “Yes, Tommy. Today!” I laugh and stand beside him looking through the plant life for a glimpse of the bird.

     I lean down and give Tommy a kiss on top of his sweet, little head and catch a glimpse of movement in the water. There’s something in the stream swimming toward us. Something larger than a goldfish. Something that looks like that girl in the boat. I can’t move. Hubert swoops down on me. I think he’s angry. He’s squawking and carrying on, and there’s this thing in the water, and I’m panicking. 

     Tommy runs after Hubert, back up onto the bridge and away from the stream. I realize that Hubert is trying to help. He’s warning us! Tommy is chasing him back to the entrance so that I don’t have to pull or carry my little brother along. Tommy is laughing like it’s some kind of game. I come to my senses and race after them.

     We reach the entryway and are crossing under the chandelier, when the door swings in with a violent crash. The lights go out. There’s a roll of thunder, and a bolt of lightning. It’s just like a corny, horror movie. Only this is real! I’m going to faint.

     Mrs. Hallovich stands, silhouetted in the doorway.

     “Come along children!” she shouts over the wind. “There’s a wicked storm brewing. I want you back at the house before the rain comes!”

     She doesn’t have to ask me twice.

     She scoops Tommy up and hustles us back through the clearing. I get a spray of water in my face as the wind blows across the fountain. Oh my gosh! The fountain picked a fine time to start working! We make it up the back steps of Willow House, just as the sky lets loose in a downpour. 

     “My mom said it was supposed to be sunny today,” I say. I guess I’m trying to make normal conversation. I’m more than a little upset.

     “Were you down by the pond?” Mrs. H. asks. 

     I think this is a strange question in response to my weather comment.

     She has guided us into the warm kitchen, where a hot lunch is laid out on the picnic table. She doesn’t seem angry, just concerned.

     “I had to go after Tommy. He chased a butterfly down there.”

     She gets a good look at my face. “Oh my Dear! Whatever happened? You’re bleeding.”

     Oh yeah. I remember the willow whipping me across the face. I’m not sure how much to say. I’m afraid to tell her about the girl in the boat for some reason. I think I trust her, but I’m so confused about everything right now. I can’t think straight. “I ran into a willow branch,” I say. 

     She kneels in front of me, gently cleaning the scratch, as Tommy, in his highchair beside us, digs into his lunch.

     “That’s an odd thing to do.” She’s searching my face, fishing for the truth. Since she can read my mind so well, I don’t say anything more. I just wait for her to absorb the whole story. When she doesn’t say anything else, I start to get uncomfortable. 

     “Those trees sure are big,” I say.

     “They’ve been there a long time,” she says. “Did you get in the water?”

     “No!” I practically shout, feeling my eyes bulge. This startles her.

     “I mean . . . no. We didn’t get in the water.”

     She relaxes a bit. “Good.”

     She plops Tommy up in the highchair and notices he’s barefoot. She looks under the table at my feet. “Where are your shoes?”

     “I forgot them in the greenhouse. They’re at the bottom of the bridge by the stream.”

     “So, you were in the water?”

     “We just put our feet in the stream inside the greenhouse.” I don’t like feeling like I disobeyed her. “We didn’t swim,” I continue.

     Mrs. H. makes a good effort at a smile. “It’s probably best if you two stay out of the water entirely.”

     “Why?” I don’t like the way that sounded as soon as it’s out of my mouth, but Mrs. H. has to agree that it is a simple and understandable question.

     “As I said before, the water in the greenhouse is fed by the stream and the pond. It is very cold. I wouldn’t want either of you coming down with something to ruin your summer.”

     Fair enough. It had been very cold, and maybe that was her truthful answer. Maybe.

     I am just glad to be here in the kitchen, with her, as the storm wears itself out. Eventually, the thunder quiets, and the sky begins to brighten. By the time we are finished eating lunch, it’s like the storm never happened at all.

     “Who wants dessert?” Mrs. H. asks.

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Willow House Chapter 17

 

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I Think I’ll Avoid the Pond Too

      Mom dropped us off this morning with a kiss and a wave. Not only am I not thinking I won’t survive, but I’m wishing there were more hours between 8:30 and 4:30.

     Mrs. H. made banana muffins this morning. I haven’t told her that Mom feeds us cold cereal before we come here. I’ve cut back to half a bowl to leave room for Mrs. Hallovich’s food.

     I’m on my fourth muffin, slowing down, starting to breathe again between bites. I look around the kitchen. Everything has been freshened up. Even the demon smoke over the fireplace is gone.

     “You’ve been busy,” I say.

     “I’ve told you it’s no trouble, Dear. I love to bake.”

     “Not just that,” I say. “The floors are all shiny and stuff.”

     I’m wanting to get to the bottom of something. It hasn’t smelled like a basement since that first day. The wallpaper in the entry has been re-glued, the floors are shiny, and this morning there was even a little sunlight coming in through the stained glass window on the landing. She, or someone else, must work really hard after we go home.

     Mrs. H. waves her hands like it’s no big deal. “It’s been so nice having the two of you here. You’ve just inspired me to clean the place up a bit.” She stands and begins to clear the table. Changing the subject she says, “I know this is our last day together, but maybe the two of you can come back and spend some time with me again?”

     She says this like she’s afraid to ask. She has this whole big house, with all the neat stuff in it, and nobody to share it with. If I’m being honest, I would love to come back for visits. I think of everything I’ve told Daleni, and I have no idea how I would explain to her why I’d come back just to visit. I’ve talked myself into a corner. Mrs. H. is still waiting hopefully for my answer.

     “Sure,” I say. “That would be nice.”

     She smiles and her laser-green eyes crinkle at the corners. 

     “Who did you say is babysitting you for the rest of the summer?”

     “Heather Marker. My dad did some landscaping for her family when we got here last summer.”

     “Well, I’m sure you’ll have a nice time with Heather.”

     I nod and shrug my shoulders at the same time - the universal body language for maybe, or sure whatever. Five days ago I thought it was going to be awesome to spend time with a college person. Now it seems uninteresting. What do I have in common with a college person?

     Mrs. H. helps Tommy out of his highchair. “Why don’t the two of you go on outside and play in the yard a bit. I have a few things to do, and then I’ll be out to join you.”

     “Can we go to the greenhouse?” I ask. I want to see Hubert again before we leave today, and I think I left Treasure Island out there.

     “That would be fine. Just keep a close eye on Tommy.”

     She didn’t have to tell me that. I’ve been sticking to him like glue lately. I take his hand, and we head to the back door.

     “Ella,” she calls. “Stay away from the water.”

     “Got it,” I say.

     I am flabbergasted by how nice the back yard looks compared to Monday. I don’t even think my dad could’ve gotten all this done with his crew helping. Someone else definitely got the landscape job, and Mrs. H. must be uncomfortable telling us who. With all the work on the inside as well as out here, there’s no way that she and a nephew are doing everything in the evenings. 

     The bushes that surround the yard are blooming. Not only have weeds been pulled from around the fountain, but the cracks have been repaired so well that it’s like they were never there at all. I step closer to check it out. In the bottom pool, the brown water and muck has been cleaned up. I stand on my tip-toes and see my shiny penny lying at the swan’s feet. Someone cleaned everything up and left my wish behind.

     Tommy tugs on my hand, pulling me toward the clearing. The path, between the bushes leading to it, has been cut back, and . . .  Holy Smokes! The clearing has bloomed since yesterday!  The glass of the greenhouse is reflecting wildflowers everywhere! It’s like stepping into a fairytale. I don’t know why, but all of a sudden it creeps me out. Why is it creeping me out? It’s too perfect. Too perfect, too fast.

     Tommy lets go of my hand and takes off to chase a butterfly. I’m standing in paradise, blue sky overhead, birds singing, bees buzzing, and butterflies dancing on flowers. Bambi is going to walk out from the trees with his mom any second, and all I want to do is get Tommy and go back to the house. It’s weird.

     “Come on, Tommy!” I call. “Let’s go back!”

     But Tommy is focused on the butterfly. He’s getting a little further away from me and I’m starting to feel a chill. Tommy starts running after the butterfly, toward the line of weeping willows.

     “Tommy! Get back here!” I shout. I run after him, but he ignores me. “Tommy, I mean it! Right this minute!” I never yell at my baby brother but I’m growing more and more scared. 

     A cloud passes over the sun. There were no clouds anywhere in the sky just a minute ago. A cold wind kicks up. Tommy has reached the line of weeping willows and, as I get closer to them, they seem bigger and darker than yesterday.  Their branches reach the ground, raking the grass underneath. Tommy isn’t that far ahead of me now. I come almost close enough to grab his shirt, but he disappears into the blowing branches. I dive in after him. The wind is more violent, and the willow whips at my arms and legs. I get a sharp lash across my cheek.

     “Tommy!” I scream. I don’t want to run him over, but I can barely see. I plow ahead with my right arm covering as much of my face as I can, so a willow branch doesn’t slap one of my eyes out. My left arm reaches forward in search of my brother.

     Finally, I pass through to the other side. The wind stops. The sun emerges. The surface of the water is calm. It still looks like a mirror. Tommy is a couple steps in front of me. He turns and smiles like nothing unusual is going on. I kneel down and gather him into a hug. I’m still scared, but at least I’ve got him. 

     Tommy starts to squirm. He pulls back, looks at me and says, “today.”

     I have no idea what he means by this, but it seems to have become his favorite word. I respond. “No, Tommy, not today. It’s time to go.”

     He points out onto the water. “Today,” he repeats.

     I see something then. About half way out is a small boat. In the boat is a girl. She’s too far away for me to see her features, but I can tell that she’s wearing a simple dress that’s plastered to her skin like she’s been swimming in it. Her wet hair hangs into her face, but I can see her teeth. She’s smiling. She lifts her hand and waves. Tommy waves back.

     I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

     “Let’s go, Bubby.”

     Thankfully, this time he listens to me. The wind has disappeared, so we make our way beneath willow branches that hang gently to the ground. When we emerge into the clearing, I can’t see any clouds in the sky, coming or going. The birds sing, the bees buzz, and the beautiful greenhouse reflects everything back. 

     I’m no longer in the mood to visit Hubert or retrieve my book. Maybe later, during one of our future visits. I just want to get back to Mrs. Hallovich. I’m leading Tommy around the side of the greenhouse when the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise again. Another cold breeze reaches down into my bones as one of those impossible clouds passes over the sun. 

     I change my mind. The main house seems a little too far away at the moment. “Let’s go in here for awhile,” I say to Tommy and pull him into the greenhouse.  

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