Phyllis agreed reluctantly. Just before they left, she told Mrs. Warren, “Please call us if anything comes up. I feel uneasy about leaving her.”
The older woman propelled her toward the door. “Go on and enjoy yourselves. I brought up six children. Katie and me’ll make out just fine.”
It was almost eleven when they returned. Mrs. Warren was asleep, completely erect in the wing chair. Phyllis tiptoed over to her.
The woman’s eyes flew open. She got up hastily. “Didn’t even hear you come in,” she said. “I’m so used to going to bed at sundown, I must’ve dozed off.”
“I’m sorry we’ve kept you up so late.” Phyllis glanced up the stairs. “How’s Kate?”
“Not a peep out of her since I tucked her in.”
After Ben drove off with Mrs. Warren, Phyllis went upstairs. Just as she reached the landing, she saw the light go out under Kate’s door. Before she even entered the room, she was sure something was off-balance. “You’re playing ‘possum,’ missy,” she whispered in the dark. The child didn’t answer. Phyllis turned on the bedside lamp.
Kate’s eyes were enormous. Her mouth fixed in a tight unnatural smile. She lay rigid, the covers pulled up to her chin.
Phyllis sat down on the bed. “What’s the matter, honey?” She touched Kate’s forehead. It was cool.
“I’m all right.” Kate flinched under her hand.
She folded back the sheet and blanket, and said lightly, “Well, you’ll smother, all bundled up like that.”
Kate fumbled at the collar of her pajamas, but Phyllis saw what she was trying to conceal — a string of red beads. She took Kate’s hand away, and inspected the strand. It was coral, curiously strung in an even pattern of six large, then six small beads. “Where did you get this?”
The child avoided her eyes. “Letty gave it to me. She said it’d keep me from getting the pox.”
“Keep you from...” Phyllis drew in her breath sharply. But all the doors had been locked and there were screens on the windows.
Kate took one of her braids and rolled the rubber band on its end back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. “Letty was afraid you might get mad at her. But all we did was play. I promised to sleep late tomorrow.” She added as Phyllis stared dully at her, “Look what Letty made for me. Isn’t it neat?”
Phyllis took the paper doll. It was crudely drawn, but there were certain significant details. The hair wasn’t penciled in exaggerated curls; it was shown parted in the middle and knotted on top. Even the features were strange. There had been no attempt, obviously no knowledge of how to indicate mascaraed eyelashes or a conventionally full, lipsticked mouth.
She turned it over. There was printing on the back. It appeared to be an advertisement of a sale, probably livestock. The paper was cheap rag that would yellow quickly, but it was now crisp and white, the type starkly black. Then she saw two words that formed part of the doll’s shoes. Healthy wench. She felt nauseous as she realized that this wasn’t a handbill for a cattle auction at all.
Phyllis could only ask, “Where did Letty get this paper? Was it something she found in an attic or...” She faltered, then repeated, “Where did she get this piece of paper?”
Kate took the doll from her and smoothed down the upward curl of the slippers. Quite easily she said, “In town. Last week. A man in the market was passing them out to everybody. Letty’s father got her a whole bunch to draw on. She gave me some, too. Look.”
But Phyllis knew that a sheaf of slave auction circulars and a nineteenth century paper doll and a coral talisman were not enough to convince Ben. No matter how much evidence were presented to him, he would never accept the fact that there could be no scientific explanation for Letty. Nor would anyone else. Except perhaps Mrs. Gastell.
The real significance of the episode, though, was that Letty had ventured into the house for the first time. Having once achieved this, she would become more and more sure of herself until...
From that night on, Phyllis resolved never again to mention the name Letty or refer to her in anyway — at least not to Kate. She thought that if she refused to accept Letty’s existence, eventually Kate would, also. She tried to keep her daughter occupied as much as possible. But if she took a shower or tried to write a letter, Kate slipped down to the creek. Always, Phyllis would discover her alone, with a look of annoyance on her face that Letty and she had been interrupted.
“We’ll just have to move, that’s all,” Phyllis told Ben finally. “I can’t keep this up much longer.”
He handed her a tall gin and tonic. “I still think you’re making too much out of this whole thing. You know what vivid imaginations kids have. This is probably just Kate’s way of compensating for the lack of other children to play with. I don’t doubt at all that Letty is real to her, but for you to accept her as some kind of ghost is...” Ben took her hand and rubbed it between his. “It’s unhealthy, honey.”
There was no sensation of warmth in her hand. She said tonelessly, “Yesterday I found... there’s a grave in St. Steven’s churchyard. It’s hers... Letty’s. She died of small pox in 1844. She was only eight years old.”
Ben studied the slice of lemon drifting sluggishly around the bottom of his drink. She was too numb even to speculate on what he was thinking.
Indirectly, it was Mr. White, who provided a solution. Phyllis had invited him to dinner one night in late August. Afterwards they went out to the back porch, and he lit a panatella. The aroma of it blended with the smell of wild honeysuckle from the woods. He began a discussion on ancient rites of the Church. One that he mentioned pricked Phyllis into complete awareness. Exorcism. The driving away of evil spirits.
She leaned forward. “Mr. White, would it be possible for such a rite to be performed now... in the present day?”
Ben spoke up, “Phyllis, I don’t think...”
Mr. White removed his cigar. “There’s nothing the matter with a question like that at all. In fact, exorcism has always fascinated me. The last case I remember reading about occurred... let me see”...
Phyllis interrupted, “But could it be practiced now? Could you... could any clergyman perform it?”
His eyes behind the silver-rimmed glasses grew very thoughtful. “A great deal of evidence must be presented to prove that such an act should be performed. It is a very serious step. There are certain dangers involved.”
She said clearly, “But exorcism is possible.”
“In very rare instances, yes.”
It could have been the very stillness that made Phyllis certain that Letty had heard and understood.
After Ben had left the following morning, Kate lingered at the table, slowly eating the last crumbs of a blueberry muffin. With her eyes still on the plate, she said to her mother, “What’s exorcism?”
Phyllis’s instant reaction was, “How did you happen to ask that?” The child lifted her face. She went on in the same carefully controlled tone of voice, “If you exorcise somebody, does it hurt?”
Her mother stooped and held her close. “Of course not, darling. It’s just a ceremony, a very serious one that has to do with driving away... something harmful. Who told you...”
Kate interrupted, looking directly into her eyes, “And they’d never come back? The person you make go away?”
Phyllis nodded. “We hope so.”
Kate was silent a moment and then she said, matter-of-factly, “But you don’t have to worry about Letty anymore. She’s already gone away.”
Without further explanation, Kate reached for another muffin and went into the living room to watch the nine o’clock cartoon show. Dumbfounded, Phyllis arose from beside the chair, and crossed the room to the doorway. For a time she stood there, watching Kate’s profile. But the child was absorbed in the program, nothing else.