Book 2

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Chapter 1

Evil was real. And as eight-year old Diana's mother turned down the dirt driveway, she saw where evil resided. It lived in the little isolated farmhouse where her mother was about to leave her.

She turned and looked at her mother, hoping that she'd see the fear she felt, and that that would be enough to change her mind. But her mother didn't even look at her. Before she saw the place she had no idea what to expect. She'd never visited with her cousins before, and didn't know anything about them, other than they were the sons of her mother's sister, aunt Anita. And that they lived on a rural West Virginia farm with their grandparents, Dolly and Willard Redmayne.

Willard. Just hearing the name sent chills through her. There was little doubt in her mind that someone with a name like that just had to be an awful person. The summer of 1975, she was certain, would be the worst summer of her entire life. But she wasn't going quietly. On the verge of tears, she tried again to change her mother's mind. "Mom, can't I go back home with you? I'll stay in my room till school starts again and won't make any noise. You won't even know I'm there!"

"No," she answered emphatically.

Equally frightening was the fact that she didn't even know how long she'd be there for. Maybe it would just be for the summer, but that was pure speculation on her part. Her mother told her quite clearly that she didn't know how long she'd be there. Maybe she'd never come back for her at all. What a dreadful thought that was. And even though she understood that her family was what a lot of people called poor white trash, she didn't think she deserved this kind of cruelty.

The car stopped in front of the house. She looked out her window and caught her first glimmer of hope. At the head of the walkway was a lattice archway, painted white, with beautiful red and white roses growing on it. She had always loved roses. Beyond that, a flower box filled with a hodgepodge of colorful blossoms, ran the length of one side of the house. Maybe, she thought, it wasn't such a bad place after all. She examined the house again. It had a tin roof, unpainted, which sloped downward from the front, and gutters channeled rainwater into a fifty-gallon barrel at one corner, and into a cistern next to the house. It was a single-story house, twice as wide as it was long, with simulated brown-brick tar paper siding and a large front porch. At the end of the driveway, just beyond the house, was a chicken coop and a couple other unpainted buildings, and about ten chickens were scattered around the buildings. She looked back at the roses and smiled.

Her mother appeared outside her door. She opened it and told Diane to get out. Her mother closed the door behind her and she went over to smell one of the roses. "Come on," said her mother, taking hold of her hand and leading her toward the house, "you can do that later."

Half way down the walkway the front door opened and a short, plump woman with grey hair and rosy cheeks stepped out onto the porch. She looked at Diane and smiled broadly, walking out to greet her. "Oh, what a pretty, darling child!" she said, wrapping her arms around her and smothering her with kisses.

It was the first hug Diane could ever remember getting. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and the woman used her apron to wipe them. "Oh, now, don't worry." she spoke to her in a soothing, grandmotherly voice, "your mamma will come back for you later. Everything'll be okay, I promise."

"Go inside with Grandma," her mother told her. "I'll get your clothes out of the car and bring them in."

The woman led her inside. "You're just in time for hot homemade apple pie. I'll even scoop a bit of homemade ice cream over it for you. Ever have homemade ice cream before?"

"I don't know," Diane answered. She wasn't sure what homemade ice cream even was, or if - or how - it was any different than regular ice cream.

"Well," said the woman, patting her hand gently-Walking through the living room she saw sitting on a coffee table a huge, white-colored, leather-bound book. On the cover, written in gold lettering, was: HOLY BIBLE. She didn't see a television or radio anywhere, but she did see an old record player. There was a well-worn green clothed chair sitting opposite a flower patterned couch that had seen better days. Everything in the house seemed ancient, but it was clean and well kept.

When she entered the kitchen she smelled the apple pie. The woman sat her in a chair at the table, then went over to the stove and took out the pie. She got her a plate and cut a slice of the pie for her, then handed her a fork. "Not yet. Let get the ice cream out."

From the refrigerator's freezer she retrieved a metal container with ice cream in it, scooping some over the apple pie. Diane watched the ice cream as it began to melt, and it smelled wonderful.

The woman gave her another hug and kissed her cheek. "Go ahead, try it."

Diane cut off a bite of the pie, making sure to get some ice cream with it, and tried it. It was the most delicious thing she'd ever eaten. Whatever unpleasantness she may yet experience on the little farm, she thought it would be a small price to pay for the attention Grandma would lavish on her.

Her mother came In carrying a trash bag with her clothes in it, setting it on the kitchen floor. "Sit down, Georgia, and I'll get you some pie and coffee."

I can't. I have to get going," she said. Then to Diane she said, "You mind Grandma till I come back for you." Then she turned and left without saying another word.

Diane heard the car start up, then listened as it backed out the driveway. She wondered why her mother was so void of affection, and thought maybe she was getting a glimpse of her own future.

"Do you like it, baby?"

"Yes, Grandma, thank you."

"You're welcome, dear." She walked over to the sink and started washing dishes, and Diane ate some more of the pie and ice cream.

"Grandma, where are all my cousins?"

"Well, Troy's out cutting hay with Papal. The others are with uncle Dayton down at the pond, playing. I 'spect they'll be back early this afternoon. You want to see the kittens after you eat? They're only a few days old."

"Yeah."

"Okay, finish up your pie and ice cream. They're underneath the back corner of the house, just past the flower box. I'll give you a treat you can give to the mother. Her name is Misty."

She finished eating and Grandma gave her a small piece of bacon to give to the mother cat. As she started around the side of the house she stopped at the flower box to look at all the flowers. She saw bees making their rounds, going from one flower to the next. And then she saw the strangest sight she'd ever seen. It looked like a tiny bird, shining with brilliant iridescence, hovering around the flowers with bee-like wings and a long, slender bill, darting from one flower to the next. At that moment she wouldn't have been surprised to see a pixie dancing around in the flower box, spreading its magical dust. She felt a strange tingling sensation then running the entire length of her spine, like nothing she'd ever experienced before, but attributed it to the new sights she was seeing. She reached over and pulled one of the flowers closer so she could smell it, then walked on to the back corner of the house to see the kittens.

She was startled briefly when the five kittens came running from underneath the house toward her. Some recoiled in fear and ran back under the house when they saw her, but one came right over to her feet, looking up at her and meowing. Then Misty came out and she knelt down and gave her the morsel Grandma had provided.

She picked up the kitten then and looked at it. She was surprised to see that it had two different color eyes. One was blue and the other was green. Petting the kitten, she began to feel the strange tingling sensation again, and, somehow, she knew she was being watched. She turned and looked toward the front of the flower box and saw a boy, two, maybe three years older than her, standing there looking at her. He seemed to be bathed in a soft, white light, almost as if it was emanating from him. It made her feel warm and safe, and she knew - although how, she had no idea - that he intended her no harm, in spite of the look of displeasure on his face.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing with that kitten?" he asked gruffly.

Still she didn't feel threatened, "Nothing. Just looking at it. Grandma said I could."

"Oh she did, did she?"

She nodded.

"You're my cousin Diane, aren't you?"

"Uhm, I guess. I'm Diane."

"Well, I'm Troy. We're cousins. You're from Ohio, huh?"

"Columbus."

"Oh, I thought Grandma said you came from Ohio."

"I did. Columbus is a city in Ohio."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I saw you over at the flower box touching one of Grandma's flowers. You best not go picking any of her flowers. She don't like us doing that. Do you know how much trouble you'd be in if Grandma knew you picked one of her flowers?"

She shook her head.

"A lot, that's how much."

"Okay, I won't pick any." She didn't know what to say after that. When he didn't say anything then, she said, "Hey, come look at this!" She held the kitten out for him to look at.

He walked casually toward her. "Oh, I've seen the kittens already. I seem them practically every day."

"But did you see the different color eyes?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look!" She held the kitten up at eye level so he could get a good look. "One eye is blue and one is green."

"How about that. I never noticed that before."

She smiled and stroked the kitten’s fur, certain that her cousin would be impressed with her for noticing the different colored eyes. Then she put the kitten down and opened her eyes wide, looking up into his. "What color are my eyes?"

He smiled down at her and she thought it was the sweetest smile she'd ever seen. "Green," he said with a laugh. "Both of them."

"Yours are blue," she said timidly. Then she said excitedly, "Hey, I saw this strange little bird over in the flower box! It was lots of colors and flew like a bee."

"A humming bird. They like flowers. Well, I have to go. The tractor broke down, and me and Papal had to come back for some tools to work on it. Papal's out at the tool shed getting what we need right now."

"Do you think I might be able to go with you?"

"To fix the tractor? I don't know; I guess, if you want to. You best go ask Grandma first, though."

"Okay, I 11 ask first. I've never been to fix a tractor before."

"I'm going to go out to the shed and see if Papal needs any help. You go ask Grandma if you can go with us, and I'll meet you out front in a minute."

"Okay!" She took off running around the side of the house, calling back, "Don't leave without me!"

She found Grandma in the kitchen peeling potatoes. "Grandma, can I go with Troy and Papal to fix the tractor?"

"Well bless your little heart. Of course you can. Go tell Papal I want to see him before he leaves, though. And you come over here and give me some sugar before you go."

Diane looked around and saw a container on the table with SUGAR written on it. She grabbed it and took it over to her. "I don't mean that kind of sugar!" Grandma said with a laugh. "I mean this kind." She pulled her close and hugged her, kissing both of her cheeks. "Okay, run along and tell Papal I. want to see him."

She rushed outside and immediately felt the tingling sensation again. She saw Troy coming across the lawn, still bathed in the light. "Grandma said I can go!" she called to him. "She wants to see Papal before he leaves though!"

"Papal, Grandma wants to see you before you go!" Troy called over his shoulder.

Then she heard from somewhere behind her a dog bark. She turned and saw a rough-coated collie running across the lawn toward her. When it reached her it began jumping all around and onto her excitedly, wagging its tail and licking her face. "It looks just like Lassie! ' she said to Troy as he approached. She was petting the dog as she was able to, but it seemed to have boundless energy and appeared unable to hold still for even a moment.

"I don't know Lassie," said Troy.

"From TV!"

"Oh, we don't have no TV. But before you go getting mixed up with this dog, there's something you should know first. That is a very bad dog!"

"What do you mean?"

"I said what I mean! In the entire history of dogs, that one right there is the very worst one!" The dog went from Diane over to Troy. "Stay away from me, Myrtle!" he scolded her,

"Is that her name, Myrtle? That's a nice name for her."

The dog licked his hand. "I mean it!" Then to Diane he said, "See how she is? Just look at her, the worst dog that ever was!"

"How come? What did she do?"

"I'll tell you what she did! Last deer season I had a huge eight-point buck in my sights - maybe a record buck for the county - and along comes Myrtle, running right across the field toward my record buck, scaring it off before I could make my shot. And she did it on purpose, too, just so I wouldn't get a record buck!"

"I think she's nice."

"Tah! You can have her! Just keep her away from me is all I ask. She's lucky I didn't turn the gun on her after pulling such a stunt! And lust look at her right now. She's supposed to be at the pond with everyone else, yet right there she stands. You can see how she can't be trusted, can't you? She lust does what she pleases without a thought to what anyone else thinks about it. That is a very thoughtless dog! Thoughtless and selfish!"

Diane saw Papal coming across the lawn then, and she noticed that he was bathed in the same soft light as Troy, and it gave her a good feeling about him. She would call him Papal like Troy and Grandma did. That was a much better sounding name than Willard. In one hand he carried some sort of big tool, and in his other he carried a tool box. He had a slim build, but the muscles in his forearms were thick. It reminded her of Popeye's arms in the cartoon. As he drew closer to the porch she saw that his fingers were short and thick, and some of them appeared to have been partially missing. He spat a brownish-yellowish colored spit into a large spittoon on the porch. "Going with us, huh?" he asked her as he passed her.

"Grandma said I could," she answered meekly.

He ruffled her hair and went inside.

"How come you keep your hair so long?" asked Troy, "isn't it hot?"

"Mom makes me. What happened to Papal's fingers?"

"Oh, he got some of them smashed off, working."

She cringed, clinching her fingers tightly as a reflexive response, making fists. The roses at the head of the walkway caught her eye again and she ran out to smell them. She pulled a white one in close to smell it and Troy called to her, telling her she'd better not pick it. "I won't! I'm just smelling it!"

The front door opened and she looked back at the house. Grandma and Papal walked out onto the porch. Now even Grandma was bathed in the soft light. She'd already had a nice feeling about Grandma, but this enhanced the feeling even more.

Grandma had a brown paper bag in her hand. She walked out to the head of the walkway and handed it to Diane. "Here you go! This is lunch, for when you get hungry later." Diane accepted it and thanked her, then Grandma reached over and picked one of the white roses. She used a bobby pin to fasten it to Diane's hair. Diane was looking back at Troy then, and he was looking on with mouth agape, seemingly dumbstruck by what he was witnessing. "You're such a pretty child," said Grandma. "Pretty as a rose." She kissed her cheek. "That's it, you're my pretty Rose."

That was the first time she was referred to as Rose, but the name would stick, and soon they'd all be calling her Rose.

"Thank you for the rose, Grandma."

"You're welcome,baby." Then Grandma turned to Troy. "Now you look out for your cousin and don't let her get hurt today."

Myrtle went out and stood with Rose, then Papal and Troy headed for the driveway and she and Myrtle followed. Grandma called after them, "You have fun today dear!" Both Rose and Troy answered at the same time. "I will!" Then Troy said to her, "I can't believe Grandma gave you one of her white roses. The white roses are her very favorites of all the flowers."

As they neared the head of the driveway an offensive odor came to her. She asked Troy what it was. "That's just our pigs. Right over there on the other side of the spring is our pig pen. I'll show it to you later if you want to see it."

"Okay," she said, but she wasn't really all that enthused about seeing the pig pen if it smelled that bad at a distance.

"Let me know if you get tired and I'll carry that for you."

"Okay. How far is it to the tractor?"

"About a mile, I reckon. Ever walk a mile before?"

In truth, she had no idea how long a mile even was, but she was worried that she might be sent back to the house if Troy thought she wouldn't be able to walk the distance, so she lied. "Oh, sure, I walk miles all. the time." She glanced over at him, wondering if he could tell she was lying.

He smiled at her in the same sweet way he did earlier, then said, "Well, just let me know if you get tired and I'll carry your bag for you."

Rose had no idea the journey she was embarking on that day. It was the beginning, though. And it would be a long mile.