“I’ve found several dead flies by the windowsill. Two dead moths. Everything is dying in this house,” Ginny said, her breath curling up like smoke in the cool November air.
She clutched my hand tight and more than that, she clutched my heart. I wished to throw my arms around her and hold her, but then a car came up to the front of the house. Edgar stepped out of it and Ginny rushed to greet him.
She practically leaped into his arms and Edgar laughed happily. I went into the house and climbed the stairs back to Carolyn’s room. I did her hair as she liked it, my fingers slow and mechanical. Afterward, I stood at the doorway of our room and looked into it. Someone, likely the house mother, had gotten rid of the rat and taken away the linens. Ginny had apparently left with Edgar without saying goodbye to me. Her swift departure dampened my spirits.
Yet Thanksgiving was a merry affair, with enough cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, gravy, and delicious turkey to feed an army. I did think about Ginny, wondering how she was doing, but the small hurt she’d caused me faded like a bruise. I longed to see her again.
Our recess lasted five days.
I returned to campus on Saturday and was surprised to find Ginny was already back. Most of the girls would try to extend their holiday until the very last minute and head back on Sunday evening, especially the ones who had family in the area. I figured Ginny would want to be with Edgar. The reason why I’d hurried to Joyce House was the work-learn program: I needed to finish preparing a few lessons in French.
When I opened the door, Ginny was sitting on the floor with a pocketknife in her hands. She looked up at me and smiled. I was caught off guard and merely stared at her, my joy at her reappearance mingled with apprehension.
“Betty, how was Gloucester?” she asked.
“It was fine,” I said cautiously. “Is there something wrong?”
“Not really.” She stood up and brushed her hands against her skirt. “Well, maybe yes, but it’s hard to explain. Betty, if I tell you, you mustn’t be upset with me, please. Edgar is already angry.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Lately I’ve felt as if something is amiss. I’ve told Edgar about this, but he doesn’t seem to understand what the trouble is. While I was staying with Edgar’s family, I wrote a little and the spirits provided me with answers. I’ve placed protective charms around the room.”
“What do you mean, protective charms?”
“I spoke to the spirits about it, and I looked it up in this book,” she said, eagerly grabbing one of the volumes on the pile by the bed and handing it to me.
“A History of Witchcraft Lore,”I said, reading the words stamped on the cover. I picked up a second book, then a third. “The Witch-Cult in Western Massachusetts.Ginny, what is all this?”
“It’ll keep me safe. But Edgar is convinced it’s my interest in Spiritualism that has me upset, that this is the root of my problems. It isn’t.”
“Then what’s the root of it?”
“Witchcraft. I am now sure of it.”
I laughed. It was a thin, nervous laugh. I didn’t mean to mock her. But at once Ginny’s face grew guarded. It was as if someone had turned a light off. She took the book from my hands and tossed it on her bed, then she picked up the pocketknife.
“I should return this to Santiago,” she said. “He’s downstairs, fixing something in the house mother’s apartment.”
“Ginny, I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s fine, Betty. I realize how ridiculous I must seem to all of you. No wonder Edgar is tired of me.”
“You’re not ridiculous. Never!”
She sighed. We walked downstairs. The door to the house mother’s apartment was open and we called her name. Instead of the woman, Santiago greeted us, rubbing a rag between his hands and nodding.
“Miss Price is at Ledge House,” he said. “She said she’d be right back.”
“I wanted to return this,” Ginny said, handing him the pocketknife. “Thank you.”
Santiago tucked it in a pocket of his denim overalls. “You’re welcome, Miss Virginia. Oh, thank you for telling Miss Carolyn about me. She might’ve found something for me over at her father’s business.”
“That’s wonderful, Santiago,” Ginny said. I bit my tongue. If the conversation I had heard between Carolyn and her father indicated anything about their finances, I doubted they’d be taking him on. But I supposed Carolyn must be attempting to maintain appearances.
The young man smiled and looked down. He stuffed the rag in another pocket. Ginny and I went to the kitchen and made ourselves two cups of tea.
“You quarreled with Edgar, didn’t you?” I asked. “That’s why you came back sooner than expected.”
