Comes the Blind Fury (17 page)

As she was about to start upstairs, there was a soft rapping at the kitchen door. She opened it to find Sally Carstairs and Jeff Benson standing on the porch.

“We came over to see Michelle,” Sally announced She seemed slightly uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure they should have come. “Is it all right?”

June smiled, and some of the tension left her. Every day she had hoped Michelle’s friends would come. For a while she had toyed with the idea of calling Mrs. Carstairs, or Constance Benson, but each time had rejected it—visitors forced to come would be worse
than no visitors at all “Of course it’s all right,” she said. “You should have come a long time ago.”

She settled the children at the kitchen table, gave them each a cinnamon roll, then went upstairs.

“Michelle?” She kept her voice soft, but Michelle was awake, her eyes, as usual, fixed on the ceiling.

“Um?”

“You have visitors—Sally and Jeff are here to see you. Shall I bring them up?”

“I—I don’t think so” Michelle’s voice was dull.

“Why not? Don’t you feel well?” June tried to keep her irritation out of her voice, but failed. Michelle peered at her mother.

“Why did they come?” she asked. She sounded frightened.

“Because they want to see you. They’re your friends.” When Michelle didn’t respond, June pressed the issue. “Aren’t they?”

“I guess,” Michelle replied.

“Then I’ll bring them up.” Not giving Michelle time to protest, she went to the head of the stairs and called down to the children below. A moment later she ushered them into Michelle’s room. Michelle was struggling to sit up in bed. When Sally made a move to help her, Michelle looked at her angrily.

“I can do it,” she said. Summoning all her strength, she heaved herself up, then flopped against the pillows, wincing at the strain.

“Are you all right?” Sally asked, her eyes wide as she realized the extent of Michelle’s injuries.

“I will be,” Michelle said. There was a pause. “But it hurts,” she added. She looked from Sally to Jeff, an unspoken accusation in her eyes.

June hesitated in the doorway, watching the interplay
among the three children. Perhaps it was a mistake—perhaps she shouldn’t have brought Sally and Jeff upstairs. But Michelle had to face them, had to talk to them; they were her friends. Without a word, she slipped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

There was an awkward silence after June left, as each of the children waited for someone else to speak first. Jeff shuffled restlessly, and avoided Michelle’s eyes.

“Well, I’m not dead, anyway,” Michelle said at last.

“Can you walk?” Sally asked.

Michelle nodded. “But not very well. It hurts, and I limp something awful.”

“It’ll get better, won’t it?” Sally sat carefully on the edge of the bed, trying not to shake Michelle.

Michelle didn’t answer.

Sally’s eyes filled with tears. It just didn’t seem fair. Michelle hadn’t done anything. If anybody should have gotten hurt, it should have been Susan Peterson. “I’m sorry,” she said aloud. “Nobody meant for anything to happen to you. Susan was only teasing …”

“I slipped,” Michelle said suddenly. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault. I just slipped. And I’ll be all right—you’ll see! I’ll be fine!” She turned her head away from Sally, but not before Sally saw the bitter tears beginning to form.

“Do you hate us all?” Sally asked. “I hate Susan …”

Michelle looked at Sally curiously. “Then why didn’t you make her shut up? Why didn’t you help me?”

The tears welled over and ran down her cheeks, and Sally quietly began
crying
too. Jeff tried to ignore the girls, and wished he hadn’t come. He hated it when girls cried—it always made him feel as though he’d
done something wrong. He decided to change the subject.

“When are you coming back to school? Do you want us to bring you your work?”

Michelle sniffled. “I don’t feel like studying.”

“But you’ll get so far behind,” Sally protested.

“Maybe I won’t come back to school.”

“You have to,” Jeff said. “Everybody has to go to school.”

“Maybe my parents will send me to another school.”

“But why?” Sally’s tears had disappeared.

“Because I’m crippled.”

“But you can walk. You said so.”

“I limp. Everybody will laugh at me.”

“No, they won’t,” Sally assured her. “We won’t let them, will we, Jeff?” Jeff nodded in agreement, though his expression was uncertain.

“Susan Peterson will,” Michelle said lifelessly, as if she didn’t care.

Sally made a face. “Susan Peterson laughs at everybody. Just ignore her.”

“Like everybody did at the picnic?” Michelle’s voice was bitter now, and her face turned angry. “Why don’t you leave me alone? Why don’t all of you just leave me alone!”

Abashed at Michelle’s outburst, Sally stood up quickly. “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, her face reddening. “We were just trying to help …”

“Nobody can help,” Michelle said, her voice quivering. “I have to do it myself. All of it!”

She turned her face away and closed her eyes. Jeff and Sally stared at her for a moment, then started toward the door.

“I’ll come back again,” Sally offered, but when there
was no response from Michelle, she followed Jeff out into the hall.

June was waiting for them downstairs. She knew immediately that something had gone wrong. “Did she talk to you?”

“Sort of.” Sally’s voice was unsteady. June saw that she was on the verge of tears. She put an arm around the girl and hugged her gently.

“Try not to let her worry you,” she urged. “It’s been terrible for her, and she’s been in pain all the time. But she’ll be all right. It’ll just take time.”

Sally nodded mutely. Then her tears overflowed, and she buried her face in June’s shoulder.

“Oh, Mrs. Pendleton, I feel like it’s our fault. All our fault.”

June drew the girl to her. “It’s not your fault, or anyone’s fault, and I’m sure Michelle doesn’t think it is.”

“Are you really going to send her away to school?” Jeff asked suddenly. June looked at him blankly.

“Away? What do you mean?”

“Michelle said she might be going to another school. I guess a school for—cripples,” he finished, stumbling on the word as if he hated to use it.

“Is it true?” Sally searched June’s face, but June carefully remained expressionless.

“Well, we’ve talked about it …” she lied, wondering where Michelle had gotten such an idea. It had never even been mentioned.

“I hope she can stay here.” Sally’s voice was eager. “Nobody will laugh at her—really they won’t!”

“Why, whatever put such an idea into your heads?” June exclaimed. She began to wonder exactly what
had transpired upstairs, but knew better than to try to pry it out of Jeff and Sally. “Now why don’t you two run along and come back in a couple of days. I’m sure Michelle will be feeling much better then.”

June watched the two children retreat along the bluff. She could see them talking animatedly together. When Jeff glanced back at the house, June waved to him, but he ignored her, turning almost guiltily away.

June’s spirits, buoyed by the appearance of Sally and Jeff, sank again. She started upstairs to have a talk with Michelle. But as she was about to go into her daughter’s room, Jennifer suddenly began crying. June stood indecisively at Michelle’s door for a moment. As Jennifer’s howls increased, she decided to see to the baby first. Then she would face Michelle, and have a talk with her. A real talk.

Michelle lay in bed, her eyes open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, listening to the voice.

It was closer now, closer than it had ever been before. She still had to listen carefully to make out the words, but she was getting better at it.

It was a pleasant voice, almost musical. Michelle was almost sure she knew where it came from.

It was the girl.

The girl in the black dress, the one she had seen first in her dreams, then that day at the graveyard. The day Jennifer had been born.

At first, the girl had only called out to her, calling for help. But now she was saying other things. Michelle lay in bed, and she listened.

“They’re not your friends,”
the voice crooned.
“None of them are
.

“
Don’t believe Sally. She’s Susan’s friend, and Susan hates you
.

“All of them hate you
.

“They pushed you
.

“They pushed you off the trail
.

“They want to kill you
.

“But it won’t happen. I won’t let it happen
.

“I’m your friend, and I’ll take care of you. I’ll help you
.

“We’ll help each other …”

The voice faded away, and Michelle became aware of a soft tapping at her door. The door opened, and her mother came in, smiling at her, Jennifer in her arms.

“Hi! How’s everything?”

“All right, I guess.”

“Did you have a nice visit with Sally and Jeff?”

“I guess.”

“I thought you might like to say hello to your sister.”

Michelle stared at the baby, her face expressionless.

“What did Sally and Jeff have to say?” June was beginning to feel desperate. Michelle was barely answering her questions.

“Nothing much. They just wanted to say hi.”

“But you must have talked with them.”

“Not really.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. June began fiddling with Jennifer’s blanket while she tried to decide what tactic to take with Michelle. Finally, reluctantly, she made up her mind.

“Well, I think it’s time you got out of bed,” she said flatly. At last there was a reaction from Michelle. Her eyes flickered, and for a moment June thought they
filled with fear. She shrank further down under the covers.

“But I can’t …” she began. June quietly interrupted her.

“Of course you can,” she said smoothly. “You get out of bed every day. And it’s good for you—the sooner you get out of bed and start exercising, the sooner you can go back to school.”

“But I don’t want to go back to school,” Michelle said. Now, suddenly, she was sitting up straight, staring intensely at her mother. “I never want to go back to that school. They all hate me there.”

“Don’t be silly,” June said. “Who told you that?”

Michelle glanced wildly around the room, as if searching for something. Her eyes came to rest on her doll, sitting in its usual place on the window seat.

“Mandy,” she said. “Amanda told me!”

June’s mouth fell open in surprise. She stared first at Michelle, then at the doll. Surely she didn’t think it was real! No, she couldn’t. Then June realized what had happened. An imaginary friend. Michelle had made up an imaginary friend to keep her company. And yet, there was the doll: its glass eyes, large and dark as Michelle’s, seemed to see right through her. June closed her mouth, and stood up.

“I see,” she said hollowly. “Well.”
Dear God, what’s happening to her?
she thought
What’s happening to all of us?
Trying to keep her confusion from her voice, and forcing herself to smile at Michelle as if nothing were wrong, she got to her feet.

“We’ll talk about it later.” She bent over and kissed Michelle lightly on the cheek. Michelle’s only response was to lower herself, so she was once more lying on the bed. As June watched, all expression seemed to
fade from Michelle’s face. Had her eyes not remained open, June would have sworn she had fellen asleep.

Hugging Jennifer close to her, June backed slowly out of the room.

Cal came home in the middle of the afternoon, and spent the rest of the day reading and playing with Jennifer. He spoke only briefly to June, and didn’t go up to Michelle’s room at all.

As June finished setting the table for dinner, and was about to call Cal into the kitchen, an idea came to her. Without pausing to think about it, she went into the living room where Cal sat with Jennifer in his lap.

“I’m going to have Michelle come down for dinner,” she said. She saw Cal flinch, but he quickly recovered himself.

“Tonight? What brought this on?” His voice was guarded, and June prepared herself for another argument.

“She’s spending too much time by herself. You never go up there—”

“That’s not true,” Cal started to protest, but June didn’t let him finish.

“Whether it’s true or not isn’t the point. The point is that she’s spending too much time alone, feeling sorry for herself. And I won’t let it continue. I’m going to go up and tell her to put on her robe and come downstairs. And I’m not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

As soon as she left the room, Cal put Jennifer in the extra bassinet they had installed in the living room, and fixed himself a drink. By the time June returned,
he had finished it and begun on a second, which he brought with him when June called him to the table.

They sat silently, waiting for Michelle. As the hall clock ticked hollowly, Cal began twisting his napkin.

“How long are you going to wait?” he asked.

“Until Michelle comes down.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” June said firmly. “I know she will.” But inside she did not feel the assurance of her own words.

The minutes dragged. June had to force herself to stay at the table, not to go upstairs, not to give in at all. And then it hit her.

Maybe Michelle
couldn’t
come down. She got up from the table and hurried into the hall.

At the top of the stairs, Michelle, her robe tied tightly around her waist, was clutching the bannister with one hand, while with the other she tested the top step with her cane.

“Can I help?” June offered. Michelle glanced at her, then shook her head.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll do it by myself.”

June felt the tension that had been building up in her suddenly release itself. But then, as Michelle spoke once more, the knot of fear that had been clutching at her all afternoon regained its grip, more tightly than ever.

“Mandy will help me,” Michelle said quietly. “She told me she would.”

Very carefully, Michelle started down the stairs.