Aunt Jule’s work lamp had been knocked over, its white globe broken, the fragments scattered on the table. In the basket next to it a dozen colorful embroidery threads were tied together in fantastic knots. I debated whether to call to the others. No, Aunt Jule might accuse me again of seeking attention. Let her find it and see how it felt when this strange phenomenon was directed at her.
I started toward the kitchen, then backtracked — there was something amiss in what I had just seen. While the lamp’s cord was pulled from the socket, it wasn’t knotted. The cord of my bedroom lamp had been yanked from the wall plate and knotted. The lamp broken the day I arrived had also had a knotted cord. Perhaps it was the process of making the knot, the psychokinetic force used to tie the cords, that caused the lamps to tip over, and similarly, the force exerted to knot the swing’s rope that caused it to snap. But there was no knot in this cord. It was as if someone had added the lamp to the scenario, overlooking that one detail. Maybe someone was mimicking Nora.
But who — who would have a reason to hide behind her behavior and wait for a chance to kill me? The question I had asked myself at the bank two days ago flickered in my mind again, and this time I couldn’t snuff it out. What was the nature of the relationship between my mother and Aunt Jule? Had it gone bad at the end?
My mother had died the summer she’d written the new will, which left everything to me, with that one provision. Aunt Jule had asked me here, knowing I was nine months away from my eighteenth birthday and that she would inherit the money if I died before then. But I couldn’t believe that my own godmother would hurt me.
I wasn’t naive. Life in Washington had taught me how the desire for money destroyed the values of all kinds of people.
But while I could almost imagine that Aunt Jule only pretended affection for me — perhaps it wouldn’t be hard, visiting me twice a year and seeing me now for just a few days — I couldn’t believe that she would allow her own daughter to be blamed.
Still, some curious puzzle pieces fit. Perhaps Aunt Jule had been refusing to get help for Nora because she knew she would need her as a cover. If Nora were accused of murder, she would be helped rather than harmed, getting the psychiatric care she needed and eventually released. In the end Nora would share in the wealth she had “earned.” Aunt Jule had always had a knack for quietly getting what she needed.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, I continued on to the kitchen. My godmother entered a few moments after me.
“Good morning, girls.”
“ ’Morning,” we both murmured.
“How did you sleep, Lauren?”
“Okay,” I answered.
“And you, Holly?”
She pulled her head out of the newspaper. “Not bad.”
“Well,” Aunt Jule said, “Today’s a new—” A long, plaintive whimper came from the next room. Holly quickly put down the paper.
“I didn’t do it!” Nora cried. “I didn’t!”
“Here we go again,” Holly muttered as the three of us hurried into the dining room.
I watched Aunt Jule’s face, searching for some sign that she already knew what was there. Both she and Holly noticed the lamp first, then the knotted embroidery silk.
Holly suddenly turned to me. “You don’t seem very surprised, Lauren. Did you know this was here?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I saw it when I came in.”
Holly frowned, silent for a moment. “I want to believe you. I really want to believe you’re not playing pranks, but I just don’t know what to think.”
“I didn’t do it!” I insisted.
“I didn’t do it,” Nora echoed.
“Then who did?” Aunt Jule asked, setting the lamp base upright.
Nora edged toward me. “It’s a secret. Don’t tell.”
“Oh, shut up!” Holly said.
Aunt Jule fingered the knots, her lips pressed together.
“If someone tells, will Sondra wake up?” Nora asked. “I won’t tell.”
Holly whirled around and Nora winced.
“I hate this, Mom!” Holly exclaimed. “Can’t you see that Nora needs help? She’s making life miserable for all of us.”
Aunt Jule stared coolly at Holly.
“Nora, you are so messed up!” Holly said. “You are really sick.”
“Holly!” Aunt Jule chided.
“You’re out of control, Nora,” Holly went on, pacing back and forth, combing her hair with her fingers. “You need to be locked up! You belong in a lunatic—” Suddenly Holly stopped, the color draining from her face.
She yanked on her hair, then she reached back with her other hand. I saw her swallow hard. I thought at first that it was her hands flexing her hair, picking it up off her neck. I watched with disbelief as a long strand of black hair twisted itself into a knot Then another, and another.
Holly clutched at her hair, her eyes widening with fear.
She leaned over and shook her head, pulling on her hair, as if she were being swarmed by bees.
“Make it stop, Nora!” Holly screamed. “Make it stop!”
Aunt Jule stood paralyzed. Nora looked terrified.
I know what this is, I told myself; there is nothing to be afraid of. I reached for the frightened Holly, trying to steady her, then caught her hair in my hands and held it till the bizarre storm of energy had passed.
The hair fell limp, though still in tangles. Nora turned and ran out the porch door. Aunt Jule started after her.
“She’s crazy, Mother,” Holly said, her voice shaking.
“She’s psychotic. Lauren is right — that was no accident last night.”
Aunt Jule looked silently at Holly, then continued after Nora.
Holly was trembling all over — with anger or fear — perhaps both. I felt bad for her but relieved for myself. Finally I wasn’t alone.
“Sit down,” I said gently. “Let’s get you untangled.”
It took a half hour to work the knots out of Holly’s hair; for a few of the tangles I had to use scissors. I knew Holly was upset because she didn’t say a word except yes each time I asked if I should cut out a knot.
Aunt Jule returned without Nora. Holly had regained her composure, but when she spoke she still sounded irritated.
“I know where Nora hides. I’ll find her when I’m ready.”
That wasn’t for another hour and a half. We cleaned up from the party, then Holly left me with the final task and went off in search of her sister.
“Where is she?” Aunt Jule asked, when Holly returned alone to the kitchen.
“I don’t know. I checked all of Nora’s hiding places twice.
And I looked at Frank’s.”
“Did you call her name?”
Holly struggled to keep her temper. “No, Mom, I called out Susie! Let her be for a while, okay? Her behavior is outrageous. It will be good for her to think things over.”
“She thinks too much already,” Aunt Jule said, and retreated to the dining room.
Through the doorway I saw that a lid had been put on the basket of knots and the broken lamp cleared away. With the yard clean and the house quiet, it seemed like just a peaceful day on the Shore. But I knew all of us were waiting; it was only a matter of time before something else happened.
As I headed outside I heard Nick in the garden greeting Rocky. When he saw me, the warmth in his voice quickly disappeared. “How are you?” he asked tensely.
“Okay,” I replied. “But we’ve had another incident.”
“What kind?”
Holly emerged from the house carrying her school backpack.
“You want to explain?” I asked her, not wanting to be the only one relating bizarre events.
“You can,” she said, “but he’ll just defend Nora. He always has.”
When I’d recounted what had happened, Nick put his arm around Holly. “Is Lauren exaggerating?”