Lavender-Green Magic (14 page)

“A cat costume would be a hard one,” she answered Judy, full of dismay. If Grandma insisted that they go, and she went with them and saw—

“Grandma's mighty clever with her hands—that's what Mr. Correy said when he came out yesterday afternoon. And it's true. I bet she can make a real cat costume.”

Holly tried to push the thought of the Halloween party out of her mind entirely. She did it by thinking of that other Halloween,
when the Dimsdales went witch hunting. This, of course, brought her back to Tamar and the warning. Also, if she were to see Tamar again, maybe ask her some questions, she could learn the truth. Whether Tamar really was a witch and had vanished by magic, after cursing Dimsdale—

A witch—if you were a witch you could have your wishes. And make them come true. Right now she could wish Judy would forget all about the party, Grandma also, so they would not have to go. She could wish—

Judy was very full of her project that evening at the supper table, and Grandma got so excited that she had to shove back her glasses every moment or so; they really slipped up and down her nose without coming to a full stop very often. Crock announced his project—what kind of furniture they had had in the first Sussex houses. He had taken lately to going out in the fix-it shed and watching Grandpa, and was very full of information (which did not interest Holly in the least) as to how to mend this and repair that.

She sat very silent herself. Let Judy and Crock do all the talking tonight. Holly wanted to be sure of the questions she was going to ask, beginning with Grandma and Grandpa and what they could remember about Dimsdale before it became a dump, and about Miss Elvery and her stories. It might be well to write those questions all down before she asked them. Then she would be sure they were the right ones and not give away her plan.

When Judy was safely in bed that night, and Holly was certain that she was asleep by the sound of her breathing, she slipped from between the covers and padded over to the
wardrobe. Inch by inch she eased the door open until she could feel inside for the lid of Judy's box of cloth pieces. She slipped that off and prodded, until her fingers met the pillow. More than anything in the world she wanted to take it out, to sleep on it tonight, and see if she could get back some way to the house in the maze and Tamar.

But there was no use in trying it. School tomorrow, and the next day, and the next—the next—

Only it did not quite work out that way. For there was a special teachers' meeting on Friday and school would be out at noon. As soon as she heard that, Holly cornered Crock and Judy.

“Friday afternoon,” she said eagerly. “We can get back in the maze Friday afternoon, don't you see?”

Crock agreed readily. “All right, better'n Saturday really. Jim's coming by to give us a hand out in the yard then. He wants to hunt up something to fix his bike, if he can find it.”

There was no use in reminding Crock of the danger of getting too friendly, Holly had known that from the first. Anyway, if he wanted to get into a fight—and fight he would, if he were called some of the things she could so well imagine—then that was his own fault.

Again time was something she fought all the way to Thursday night. She had discovered before then that neither Judy nor Crock had any idea of allowing her to take the pillow by will alone. No, it would be choosing again. And Holly was determined this time that she would do as she had never done before, make sure she would come out the winner. She
had
to be the one, she
had
to!

Crock held the papers to pull once more, and, in her hand, Holly deliberately bent the one she had drawn. The others were too intent upon their own drawing to see her. If hers was not the shortest paper in the beginning, it would be when she got through with it. And, through her crumpling, it was, over Crock's. Triumphantly, she gathered the pillow to her.

As she settled in bed she thumped her head against it. There was a funny smell, not as good as it had been before. This made her nose itch to sneeze. If she had not been sure, somehow, that this was the only way to get into the maze, she would have shoved the pillow away again. But in spite of the unpleasant smell, which grew stronger, Holly was firm—she
would
dream the way in!

In the morning she could not remember her dreams, except that she did know a way into the maze. The rest—when she tried to recall anything it made her head ache. Tamar—had she seen Tamar? Holly had an odd half-remembrance of someone else, quite unlike Tamar. Someone who had smiled and beckoned and whom she must see again. But of course that person must have been Tamar, and she, Holly, would be the one to warn her about the trouble to come.

“You dreamed.” Judy was putting on her shoes. “But those must have been bad dreams, Holly.”

“Why?” Holly rounded on her defensively.

“ 'Cause you called for Mom and said you wanted out—” Judy sat on the edge of the bed, watching her sister closely now. “You talked as if you were shut up somewhere.”

Holly tossed her head. “I don't remember. But I do know the way into the maze anyhow. And we'll go this afternoon and see Tamar. You want to do that, don't you?”

To her surprise Judy did not answer at once. “I don't know. I'm going to wait and see—”

“Wait and see about what?” Holly exploded. “The last time you were all ready to go, you wanted us to hurry up. Just 'cause I had the dream this time, now you talk about going to wait and see! What's the matter with you, Judy Wade?”

Judy still measured her sister with that unblinking stare; Holly stirred uncomfortably under it. It was almost as if Judy already knew that Holly had—well, arranged things last night. But Holly had
had
to. Crock did not really care, and they—
she
—had to warn Tamar about all the trouble coming.

“Nothing's the matter, I guess,” Judy said slowly. “Only, I guess I didn't like your bad dream.”

“But you don't really know it was a bad dream,” countered Holly swiftly.

“I know you were crying for Mom to come and get you. And that Tomkit—he got up once and sniffed at the pillow; then he jumped back and hissed and spat, just like he hated it.

“But—oh, well.” Judy shrugged. “I guess it's all right.”

Of course it was all right, Holly assured herself fiercely not only through breakfast but through the morning at school. When they piled back on the bus after the half-day session, she was only eager to get back to Dimsdale, gobble down lunch, and start into the maze. It was a dark day and the clouds looked heavy, but so far there had been no rain. She kept her fingers crossed all the way home and hoped the storm would hold off.

Holly was so intent upon her worry that she did not listen much to what was going on around her, until she heard Judy say in a voice which carried over the rumble of the bus, “Grandma thinks she can make a cat suit for me. She has a big woolly gray blanket, just as gray as Tomkit.”

“Black cats are for Halloween.” That was Sandra Hawkins.

“Maybe—but I want to be a gray one,” Judy returned. “Tomkit is a special cat, it's more fun to look like him. What are you going to be?”

Sandra giggled. “I don't know, not yet. Usually I wear what Mary wore last year, and she gets a new one. She was a ballet dancer last year. But I got out her costume yesterday and tried it on. It doesn't fit me at all. So I showed Mom and she said she'll see—”

What did Halloween costumes matter now, thought Holly impatiently. If they did have to go to that old party, and it looked as if they would, with Grandma being a part of it, she'd just get together something. Maybe go as a gypsy. That was easy enough: a skirt of one color, and a blouse of another, hoop earrings, and a scarf around her head. But there'd be plenty of time to think about that. What was important was what was going to happen this afternoon.

Today luck was with them, because Grandma was going off to her sewing circle right after lunch. She made them promise not to go far from the house (the maze was not all that far, Holly assured herself) and to be careful. Grandpa was working in the fix-it shed, and Crock seemed more interested in what he was doing there than in the maze, until
Holly reminded him that he had promised to go back with her and Judy.

By the time Grandma at last drove off with Mrs. Wilson, Holly was fairly ready to dance up and down with impatience, which neither Judy nor Crock seemed to share. When she turned on them as the car went down the lane, they were looking, not at her, but doubtfully at each other. As for Tomkit, he had completely disappeared, as if this new expedition were no affair of his whatsoever.

“We had better get going,” Holly said.

“I promised Grandpa—” Crock began; then, encountering her fierce glare, he shrugged. “All right. Let's go and get it over with.”

“I can't understand you two,” Holly burst out. “Before, you wanted to go—why don't you now?”

Judy actually shivered, though it was not too cold a day and she had her jacket well buttoned up, a scarf wrapped over her head and around her neck.

“It isn't the same,” she said in a flat tone.

“Why isn't it?” Holly was growing angry. “We went with you and it was all right. Now it isn't right just because I had the dream, is that what you're trying to say?” She would not allow herself to be shaken by the thought that this was indeed her own doing, that she had not played fair last night. Because she was
right
, they had to warn Tamar of what was going to happen.

“Don't you care about Tamar at all?” she continued in a rush of hot words. “We can tell her—”

“But the bad men never hurt Tamar.” Judy made no move
toward following Holly in the direction of the wasteland which was the maze. “She and her house—they were gone—”

“Yes,” Crock said slowly. “And where did they go? Do you suppose Tamar did know something—something about time? You know, people are beginning to think more about using their minds—like the TV show on E.S.P.”

“Don't you see”—Holly seized upon Crock's speculation, whether she believed it or not—“Tamar must have known, or she and the house wouldn't be gone! So she was warned. And we're going to warn her right now—today!”

“But if it all happened 'way back like that”—Judy still stood her ground—“then how can it be that we warn her
now
?”

“ 'Cause we go back in time—we must.” Holly had questioned this herself over and over, and it was the only explanation which made sense. “We go back from
now
to
then
. We tell her, and she is already waiting to do whatever she did to save herself and the house when that old Sexton Dimsdale came.”

“It could be,” Crock conceded. “All right, let's get going.”

Holly needed no further urging, she was already speeding away from the barn-house toward that tangled mass of leafless brush. As she approached the maze it looked almost as thick and solid as the walls of the barn. And it looked dead, too, gray-brown, as if there had never been any leaves on those entwined branches. At least not for years and years.

She had been watching for the tall cat guardians, but so far she had not sighted even a hint that such creatures had ever been fashioned of living growth. Her dismay began to
turn to disappointment as she first trotted eagerly and then walked more slowly along the dead wall.

“There's no gate,” she heard Judy protest. “I don't believe there's any way in now.”

They were, Holly was uncomfortably aware, past the place where Judy and Tomkit had guided them before. Yet there was something in her which kept saying that there
was
a way, and that she would find it. She did not try to answer Judy, only went on around a curve where the wall itself drew back a little.

A moment later all her doubts were lost in triumph. “See there!” She flung out her arm full length, pointing at what was truly a break in the massed growth.

“Those—those aren't the cats,” Judy said in a small, uncertain voice.

Holly surveyed the two guardians on either side of the dark opening. Judy was right, though Holly was not going to admit it openly. The creatures sat up in the same position that the cats had held, but they had no resemblance to Tomkit's species at all.

They were more than a head taller even than Crock and they had four legs, the hind ones curled under them for sitting. But their heads were a very strange shape—with long, pointed muzzles—while their ears were very large and sharply pointed also. The gray-brown of the brush from which they were shaped gave them an unpleasant appearance, which was added to by some withered leaves clinging in patches, as if they were scaled.

“Alligators,” Crock commented, and then added more doubtfully, “I think.”

Judy stopped short. “I'm not going in there!” She shivered again. “This—this is not the right place at all.”

“It is!” Holly stated determinedly. “I tell you—I know. Just as you knew.”

But she herself was bothered by the look of those alligators, if Crock had named them rightly. The cats had been different. They had not seemed to be just waiting for someone to pass close enough so they could reach out and grab—that was silly! They were just some old dead bushes, the closer she went the better she could see that.

“Come on!” she ordered the twins.

Judy's face was very troubled. “I don't want to. Please, Holly, don't make me go in there. It's bad—”

“It's no more bad than your gate.” Holly was thoroughly aroused to defend her own actions. “Just a lot of silly old bushes.”

Crock reached out and took Judy's hand. His face was sober as he looked not at Holly at all, but at his twin. “We have to—now.”

Judy sniffed, but she nodded unhappily. And Holly, to prove that she was entirely right, led the way. But she did not run eagerly ahead as Judy had done on that other exploration of the maze. She walked and tried not to feel how dark and closed in it was, and how the bushes seemed to bend down as if to catch and hold fast anyone who dared the very narrow trail between their dank, chill walls.