her, and that someone had to before it was too late. "Todd is moving about in Mark's body because his evil spirit will never rest in peace!"
Melanie rose to her feet and moved towards the door. In spite of Addie's cantankerous ways, she loved the old woman. She was a part of her life and her childhood memories; she would never deliberately hurt her, especially now, when she was obviously sick.
"Aunt Addie, Todd is no longer in this world and neither is his spirit. Now I'm going to fix you some tea and sugar cookies, and I'm also going to call Dr. Ambrose and have him come by and take a look at you. Maybe he can give you something that will help you sleep better tonight."
Addie merely nodded, then turned her head to gaze out the window at the fields in the distance. Soon the
fields would be covered with cotton, as though snowballs had fallen from the sky and refused to melt.
Addie knew that Melanie did not believe her theory, but it was no matter. The young folks always think they know more than the old folks. Let her think whatever she chose. Someday, she'd realize old folks had a lot to teach the young.
Butch limped along beside Melanie as she made her way downstairs. In the kitchen, Melanie found Mark pouring himself some cold water from the refrigerator jug. When he started to leave, she could keep silent no longer.
"I want to know why, Mark, why?" She had wanted to keep her voice level, but the urge to scream was too strong to overcome.
He turned slowly, a wary expression on his face. "You want to know why... what?" he asked quietly.
She pointed at Butch. "You know very well what I'm talking about. I didn't know you could be so mean, Markl I didn't know you would deliberately be cruel to any animal. You could have really hurt Butch, kicking him that way."
He looked from her to the dog, then swallowed hard and said in a rush, "Look, Melly, I'm sorry. I do things sometimes, and even I don't understand myself why I do them. I didn't mean to hurt Butch, okay?**
He didn't sound very contrite and she didn't mellow.
"All he was doing was sniffing at that door. I imagine there's a lot there to sniff, too. Why, it's not even sanitary. As I recall, Uncle Bartley's last supper tray was still beside the bed ..."
Some of the puzzlement left Mark's gaze, and he nodded amiably now. "I agree, but everything in that room has probably gotten covered with inches of dust, and any food left there has long ago rotted and disintegrated. It will remain sealed until the house is destroyed or torn down, the way Aimt Addie has requested. As for your dog, I am sorry, Melly. Will you forgive me?"
He looked so repentant and sounded so sincere that Melanie nodded, reluctant to harbor any hard feelings.
"Suppose you do keep Butch downstairs from now on, though, okay?" Mark smiled at her as he headed outdoors. "He might disturb Auntie."
Melanie stared at the closed door thoughtfully. Mark
was an odd one. At first, when confronted with her accusation, he had pretended not to know what she was talking about. Or maybe he really didn't, she thought in wonder. Maybe it was possible that subconsciously he had done something that his twin brother would have done. But no, she wouldn't let herself start thinking things like that The superstitious ramblings of an old woman would not affect or influence her thoughts; she would not permit it.
She got out the box of sugar cookies and arranged some on a tray. Butch whimpered, begging for a cookie, and he gave her a grateful lick as she leaned over to give him one.
Then something stirred within her. She straightened, trying to gather her thoughts. Something was clicking, and she couldn't quite grasp what it was. Then it dawned on her! For a dog who'd just been kicked painfully. Butch had been quite nonchalant towards his attacker. In fact, she recalled that Butch had limped over to sniff Mark's leg quizzically and even nudged him in greetingl That was weird—^very weird, indeed.
Now she felt a
Melanie rose to her feet and moved towards the door. In spite of Addie's cantankerous ways, she loved the old woman. She was a part of her life and her childhood memories; she would never deliberately hurt her, especially now, when she was obviously sick.
"Aunt Addie, Todd is no longer in this world and neither is his spirit. Now I'm going to fix you some tea and sugar cookies, and I'm also going to call Dr. Ambrose and have him come by and take a look at you. Maybe he can give you something that will help you sleep better tonight."
Addie merely nodded, then turned her head to gaze out the window at the fields in the distance. Soon the
fields would be covered with cotton, as though snowballs had fallen from the sky and refused to melt.
Addie knew that Melanie did not believe her theory, but it was no matter. The young folks always think they know more than the old folks. Let her think whatever she chose. Someday, she'd realize old folks had a lot to teach the young.
Butch limped along beside Melanie as she made her way downstairs. In the kitchen, Melanie found Mark pouring himself some cold water from the refrigerator jug. When he started to leave, she could keep silent no longer.
"I want to know why, Mark, why?" She had wanted to keep her voice level, but the urge to scream was too strong to overcome.
He turned slowly, a wary expression on his face. "You want to know why... what?" he asked quietly.
She pointed at Butch. "You know very well what I'm talking about. I didn't know you could be so mean, Markl I didn't know you would deliberately be cruel to any animal. You could have really hurt Butch, kicking him that way."
He looked from her to the dog, then swallowed hard and said in a rush, "Look, Melly, I'm sorry. I do things sometimes, and even I don't understand myself why I do them. I didn't mean to hurt Butch, okay?**
He didn't sound very contrite and she didn't mellow.
"All he was doing was sniffing at that door. I imagine there's a lot there to sniff, too. Why, it's not even sanitary. As I recall, Uncle Bartley's last supper tray was still beside the bed ..."
Some of the puzzlement left Mark's gaze, and he nodded amiably now. "I agree, but everything in that room has probably gotten covered with inches of dust, and any food left there has long ago rotted and disintegrated. It will remain sealed until the house is destroyed or torn down, the way Aimt Addie has requested. As for your dog, I am sorry, Melly. Will you forgive me?"
He looked so repentant and sounded so sincere that Melanie nodded, reluctant to harbor any hard feelings.
"Suppose you do keep Butch downstairs from now on, though, okay?" Mark smiled at her as he headed outdoors. "He might disturb Auntie."
Melanie stared at the closed door thoughtfully. Mark
was an odd one. At first, when confronted with her accusation, he had pretended not to know what she was talking about. Or maybe he really didn't, she thought in wonder. Maybe it was possible that subconsciously he had done something that his twin brother would have done. But no, she wouldn't let herself start thinking things like that The superstitious ramblings of an old woman would not affect or influence her thoughts; she would not permit it.
She got out the box of sugar cookies and arranged some on a tray. Butch whimpered, begging for a cookie, and he gave her a grateful lick as she leaned over to give him one.
Then something stirred within her. She straightened, trying to gather her thoughts. Something was clicking, and she couldn't quite grasp what it was. Then it dawned on her! For a dog who'd just been kicked painfully. Butch had been quite nonchalant towards his attacker. In fact, she recalled that Butch had limped over to sniff Mark's leg quizzically and even nudged him in greetingl That was weird—^very weird, indeed.
Now she felt a
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