Don't Tell

“Hello,” I called softly.

No one answered, but I saw the slight movement in the shadows. If it were Aunt Jule, she would have replied. It had to be Nora, I thought, and continued on, determined not to be cowed by her.

The air was still and heavy, as water-saturated as the ground. It was the kind of humid Shore night I remembered as a child, when a light left on became a halo of mist and insects. When I entered the greenhouse, I kept the lights off so I wouldn’t be swarmed.

In the intermittent moonlight the glass house looked surreal. Plants, looming tall in the darkness, suddenly caught the light and seemed to bristle and straighten as I came near. Spider plants drooped long tongues over the edges of hanging pots. Short, thick plants reached out, then curled back on themselves with crooked stems.

Moonlit raindrops and condensation kept me from seeing beyond the glass panes. As I moved among rows of plants, I couldn’t get over the feeling that someone was outside watching me.

Something brushed my arm and I jumped. Just a branch, Lauren, I chided myself. Watch where you’re going and stop imagining things.

Still, the skin on my arms prickled as I moved toward the back of the greenhouse searching for a bucket. There was something in here with me — I could feel it — some disturbance in the air. There was no rational way to explain the sensation; the air didn’t move, but something unseen moved through it. I walked in the center of the main aisle and kept my arms close against my sides, reluctant to touch any of the plants.

Along the back wall was a bucket and six pots of vines, young plants that Nora was training on two-foot trellises. I leaned over to pick up the bucket. Something rustled. I glanced left, then right, and told myself I was acting paranoid.

I heard it again, soft but distinct, like leaves tussling in a breeze, though the air was as motionless as before. My forehead felt damp. A trickle of sweat ran down my neck.

I quickly picked up the bucket, then noticed the twisted shape of the vine growing next to it. The vine wasn’t just twined around the trellis, but knotted to it, its delicate tendrils tied in minuscule knots. I shivered, and with my free hand touched my necklace, running my finger along its smooth chain. Last night it had borne the same kind of knots. I looked at the other young vines. They were all knotted, some of their roots pulled up as if the force used to tie them had yanked them from the soil.

Clutching the steel handle of the bucket, I walked quickly toward the greenhouse sink, wanting to get the water and get out of there. But when I reached for the faucet, I stopped.

On the shelf above the sink sat a jade plant, its fleshy almond-shaped leaves glimmering in the moonlight. It moved. I took a step back, staring at it, knowing it was impossible, but certain I had seen it. The branches had moved, as if invisible fingers had riffled them.

I was going crazy. I was seeing what my mother had seen before she died, things knotting, things moving. “There’s no hand touching them, baby. They move by themselves.”

Maybe Aunt Jule was right: I was obsessed with my mother, so much so that I was imagining her experiences.

I fought the panic rising in me and reached for the faucet again, turning the handle hard. When the bucket was half full, I shut off the stream.

I thought I felt a trickle on my neck-spray from the faucet or my own sweat. Reaching up to wipe it, I touched dry skin and my necklace. It wasn’t water, but the chain creeping along my neck. I looked down at the silver heart, rising like a slow tide, moving closer and closer to my throat. I dropped the bucket and spun around, as if to catch someone pulling the necklace, but no one was there. I clawed at the chain, grabbing it before it could choke me, and yanked down. It snapped. Holding it tightly in my fist, I ran.

When I was outside the greenhouse, nearly at the porch, I opened my fingers and gazed down at the chain. The end of it was tied in a tiny knot.

eleven

I slept little that night. Whenever I did drift off, I slipped into dreams of swimming through dark water with ropelike plants winding around my arms and legs. The next morning, when I was fully awake, I thought I might have dreamed the events in the greenhouse. Then I found my chain on the bureau, broken and knotted at one end.

I had no idea how to account for what I had experienced last night. I didn’t want to think that Nora’s distorted perception of the world was infecting me, making me see things that weren’t real. But I had never believed in ghosts or other paranormal phenomena. It was terrifying to think that a power I didn’t understand was present when Nora was. How could I defend myself against something I couldn’t see?

When I got down to the kitchen, Holly was sitting at the table writing up another of her lists, looking chipper as usual despite her late night. Her steadiness had a calming effect on me. I poured a glass of juice and sat down across from her.

“Listen, Holly, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you last night when—” She held up a hand. “Hey, cut it out. We both know Jason was acting like a jerk. He asked for it and you gave it to him.”

I relaxed. “I wasn’t sure you’d see it that way.”

“Are you kidding? I wish I had a couple girlfriends like you. You’re sweet to a point,” she said, smiling, “but then you deliver the news straight.”

I was surprised and pleased.

“By the way, I put your purse on the hall table. You left it at the Queen.”

“Thanks. I forgot all about it.” I took a long drink of juice.

“So what can I do for the party? Clean? Pick up groceries?”

“I’d love it if you’d get the party platters from Dee’s. They’ll be ready at two.”

“Okay. How about before that?”

“Well, since you’ve offered,” she said, “there’s about a million things.”

We were going over the list when Nick showed up with Rocky. I felt suddenly guilty. Holly might not wish she had girlfriends like me if she knew that I had kissed her prom date. But Nick gave no sign of anything special having happened between him and me. In fact, I got a much warmer greeting from Rocky — a joyful bark, several head butts, and a lot of tail-wagging.

“Are you giving him treats on the sly?” Nick asked me.

“No. I guess I just smell right to him.”

“Like waterfowl?” Nick replied, laughing. “That’s his favorite scent.”

I noticed that Nick didn’t behave in any special way toward Holly, either, which seemed to confirm my theory that at tonight’s party she and I would watch him move on to the next girl — if there was one in the senior class whom he still hadn’t dated.

Nora walked in while Nick and Holly were discussing what they needed to borrow from Frank.

“Hey, Nora,” he said softly.

“Hey, Nick.”

“Hi, Nora,” I greeted her.

She didn’t respond.

Holly said nothing to her sister. Perhaps she was used to Nora’s cold treatment and didn’t try anymore.

“Nora, was that you on the porch late last night?” I asked.

She turned to me as if she had finally realized I was there.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try to,” I said firmly.

Nick and Holly glanced at me.

“It was someone else,” Nora replied. “Someone else did it.”

“Did what?” Holly asked.

“Don’t tell,” Nora said, fingering the collar of her shirt.

Holly gazed at me expectantly.

“Nothing really,” I replied. “I was out walking and went in the greenhouse. I thought I heard something stirring in there.”

“Like an animal?” Holly asked.