The Doll in the Garden Read online

  “He feels real,” she said, but she put Snowball down quickly. He meowed again and nudged us toward the path.

  “Come on,” I said. “He wants to take us to Louisa.”

  “You won’t tell her I gave Anna Maria to Miss Cooper, will you?” Kristi asked, still hanging back.

  I shook my head and followed Snowball down the shadowy path. Reluctantly, Kristi stumbled along behind me. I knew she was still scared, but I wasn’t sorry for her. If she hadn’t been such a tattletale, I’d have Anna Maria in my arms right now. Instead, I was returning to Louisa empty handed, and Carrie was once again in possession of the doll.

  Chapter 14

  Please Give Her Back

  RELUCTANTLY, KRISTI let me lead her down the path to the bench under the dogwood tree. When Louisa saw us coming, she stood up slowly.

  “Who have you brought with you?” She peered into the shadows behind me. “Is it Carrie?”

  “No, it’s my neighbor, Kristi.” I beckoned to Kristi, but she hung back, her eyes fixed on Louisa as if she expected her to change into something hideous at any moment.

  Louisa smiled and extended a small hand, but Kristi wouldn’t take it. I knew she was as scared as I’d been the first time I met Louisa.

  “You needn’t be afraid,” Louisa said to her.

  “I’m not.” Kristi frowned and folded her arms tightly across her chest, refusing to come close enough for Louisa to touch her.

  Louisa turned to me. “Did you find Carrie?”

  I nodded. What would Louisa think if she could see the mean old woman Carrie had grown into? “But she wouldn’t give me Anna Maria.”

  Louisa sighed. “I didn’t think she really would. No matter what Snowball and I do, she won’t part with my doll.”

  “Do you ever see Carrie?” I asked.

  “Sometimes.” Louisa gazed across the hedge at my house. “There she is right now.” She pointed at my bedroom window. “I often see her watching me.”

  With shivers running up my neck, I turned and saw a girl standing at my window. Her hair was long and dark, but she had her back to the fight, making it impossible for me to see her face. When she realized we’d noticed her, she stepped away from the window and closed the curtains.

  It made goose bumps rise all over me to think I was looking at my own bedroom, not as it was now, but as it used to be. How could a house exist in two different times at once? If Carrie was in my room, where was Mom? Anxiously, I turned back to Louisa, but she was rocking her doll carriage and humming.

  “Would you like to play tea party again?” she asked me. “I brought three dolls today, just in case Carrie came, so Kristi can have Beulah.’”

  Reaching into the carriage, Louisa pulled out a china doll with painted hair and handed her to Kristi. She gave me Elfrieda again and kept Marguerite for herself.

  “Silently Kristi watched Louisa pour imaginary tea into three tiny cups. In the few days I’d known her, she’d never been so quiet, and I wondered what she was thinking about.

  As we pretended to sip our tea, Kristi finally spoke. “Why did Carrie take your doll?” Her face was screwed into a terrible scowl. If she had the chance, I was sure she’d beat up Carrie for making Louisa so unhappy.

  Louisa glanced up at my bedroom window as if she expected Carrie to reappear. “Well, you see, Carrie’s father never let her have a doll of her own,” she said. “He thinks toys encourage idleness.” She gave Marguerite a little pat on the head.

  “Whenever Carrie came to see me,” Louisa went on, “I let her play with Anna Maria because she loved her best. A few days ago, I left Anna Maria in the garden while I ate dinner. When I went outside to get her, I saw Carrie running through the hedge with her. I called and called, but she never came back.”

  As Louisa’s eyes filled with tears, Kristi and I looked at each other. How could Miss Cooper have changed so little? Even now she was as mean and rotten as she’d been when she was a kid.

  “We’ll get her for you,” I told Louisa. “I promise.”

  Louisa began to cough again, harder this time. “Maybe you should go inside,” I told her, frightened by the way her body shook. She was so thin and small and fragile.

  “Yes,” she said, letting me lead her toward her house. “I’m not supposed to stay outside, but I wanted to be here if you came back to play.”

  As we walked up the path, I saw Aunt Viola hurrying toward us. To my surprise, she brushed past Kristi and me without seeing us and picked up Louisa as if she weighed no more than Anna Maria. “I thought you were in your room,” she said as she carried her up the porch steps.

  “My doll carriage,” Louisa gasped between coughs. “I left it in the garden.”

  Til bring it in later, after you’re in bed.” Aunt Viola opened the door, and Kristi and I watched her carry Louisa into the house. Then the door shut, and they were gone.

  Alone in the dusk, Kristi and I stared at each other. “Why didn’t Aunt Viola see us?” Kristi asked.

  “I told you before,” I said. “We’re the ghosts here.”

  “But Louisa sees us,” Kristi said.

  “Maybe it’s because Snowball brings us to her.” I looked down at the cat, and he looked at me. Then he walked away toward the hedge. By the light of the moon, I saw his shadow, but when I looked at Kristi, I realized she had no shadow and neither did I.

  “Come on, Kristi,” I said. “It’s time to go back.” Taking her hand, I followed Snowball through the hedge.

  …

  As we stumbled into my yard, the world spun like a carousel. With the sun in my eyes almost blinding me, I heard Mom’s typewriter, Max barking, a motorcycle sweeping past, and Mrs. Smith’s vacuum cleaner. The steps to our apartment cast a sharp shadow on the side of the house, and the leaves rustled in Kristi’s tree.

  Feeling a little weak and wobbly, I sank down on the grass beside Kristi.

  “Well?” I asked her. “Do you believe me now?”

  For a few seconds Kristi just sat there. She was breathing fast, and she was almost as pale as Louisa. “Oh, Ashley,” she whispered, “it was all true what you said. I didn’t think it would be.”

  Then, turning her head, Kristi looked back through the hedge. “It’s just a field again,” she said.

  I nodded. “See the big thicket of pokeberries under the elm tree? That’s where the house used to be. The foundation’s still there.”

  “I wonder what happened to the house. And to Louisa.” Kristi stared at me. “She’s sick, isn’t she?”

  “She told me she has consumption.”

  “Is that a bad disease? Is it contagious?”

  “It was then,” I said, “when Louisa was little.”

  “But there’s a cure, right?”

  “Now there is.”

  But back in those days?” Kristi asked. “People didn’t die of . . . consumption, did they?”

  “Don’t worn about it, Kristi,” I said. “What we have to do is’ get Anna Maria away from Miss Cooper.”

  Kristi sighed and hid her face in her hands. “I wish I hadn’t told. I’d give anything to go back to yesterday and make it different.”

  “It’s too late to change it now.” I stood up and brushed the dirt off the seat of my shorts. “But maybe we can try.”

  “Where are you going?” Kristi asked.

  “To see Miss Cooper.”

  “It won’t do any good. You’ll just get in trouble again,” Kristi said, but I didn’t pay any attention to her. I was still afraid Miss Cooper might evict Mom and me, but I had to get Anna Maria. I’d keep my promise to Louisa no matter what happened.

  Summoning all the courage I had, I marched around the corner of the house and found Miss Cooper sitting on her front porch, reading the newspaper.

  When she saw Kristi and me, she frowned. Grabbing her cane, she levered herself out of her rocking chair.

  “You girls get out of here,” she said. “You’ve got no business in this part of the yard.”

&
nbsp; Kristi started edging away toward the safety of her tree house, but I stood my ground. “Miss Cooper,” I said, “please give Anna Maria back to me. I have to have her.”

  Miss Cooper clutched her cane tightly, and for a few seconds we stood still, eye to eye. Finally she swallowed hard and said, “Yesterday you spoke a lot of nonsense about Louisa.” Her voice trembled. “How did you know her name?”

  “There was a note in the box you buried. It said, ‘Louisa Perkins, please forgive me, I am sorry. Your friend Carrie.’” I held my breath and waited for Miss Cooper to say something. When she didn’t, I added, “That’s how I know you’re Carrie.”

  “Louisa,” she said slowly and her mouth worked around the name as if she hadn’t spoken it for a very long time. “Yes, I forgot about the note.”

  Turning away from me, Miss Cooper gazed across her lawn at the field where Louisa’s house had once stood.

  “Louisa Perkins,” the old woman murmured as if she’d forgotten my existence. “She lived next door, but the house is gone now. It burned down about twenty years ago.”

  “What happened to Louisa?” I asked.

  “Oh,” Miss Cooper said, “she died when she was eight or nine.”

  The words fell from her lips like stones, and it took me a second or two to realize what she’d said. I clutched Kristi’s arm, but we didn’t look at each other. We just stood there on the lawn while the birds sang around us as if nothing had happened.

  Miss Cooper picked up her newspaper and fanned herself with it. “Children died all the time in those days,” she muttered.

  I stared at Miss Cooper’s wrinkled face and red-rimmed eyes. Here she was, an old woman, talking about Louisa’s short life as if it hadn’t mattered at all. Didn’t she feel bad about living so much longer?

  Then Kristi’s voice cut through the hot summer air. “Louisa still wants her doll,” she said, “and you better give it to her!”

  The old woman looked at us then. “Go on home,” she said, her voice rising, “both of you.”

  She yanked open the door, but before she went into the house, she added, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but don’t come pestering me again about that doll!”

  I ran up the porch steps after her and rapped on the long window beside the closed door. “Give me the doll,” I cried. “She doesn’t belong to you!”

  The house was silent. Pressing my face against the glass, I tried to see inside, but the lace curtain stretched over the window blocked my view.

  Angrily I pushed the doorbell and let it ring till it sounded like someone screaming. “Give me Anna Maria!” I yelled. “Give her to me!”

  I kicked the door hard, and then, frightened, I turned and ran. With Kristi behind me, I scrambled up the ladder to the tree house.

  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 eye. 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 un
der 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.”

  Chapter 16

  Talking to Miss Cooper

  WHILE I WAS eating breakfast the next morning, Kristi came thumping up the steps and barged into the kitchen. Taking a seat, she helped herself to a slice of bread and spread a thick layer of jam on it. “Did you hear Snowball last night?” she asked.

  “I think he’s mad because Miss Cooper won’t give Anna Maria to us,” I said. “That’s why he was yowling at her.”

  “Miss Cooper must be scared,” Krisd said.

  “Maybe we should try talking to her again,” I said. “She might give us Anna Maria just to get rid of Snowball.”

  Kristi wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing blueberry jam across her cheek. “Not me,” she said, “I’m never speaking to that mean old woman again.”

  “We have to get Anna Maria,” I reminded her.

  While I rinsed my breakfast dishes, I watched Kristi help herself to another slice of bread and jam. She was acting very nonchalant, but I knew she was trying hard to think of some reason not to visit Miss Cooper.

  When the kitchen was clean, I opened the back door and started down the steps. Kristi pattered behind me, mumbling to herself.

  “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to,” I told her. “You can hide in your old tree house like a baby and spy on us.”

  Kristi glared at me. “Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t make me a baby,” she said.

  While Kristi hesitated, Miss Cooper suddenly appeared in person. Leaning heavily on her cane, she confronted us in the driveway. She looked fiercer than usual, and I backed away from her so fast I stepped right on Kristi’s bare toes.