"Oh, no. I'm going to stay here," I said, gazing around.

"Stay here? You mean, in the house?"

"Yes. If my mother was here, she might come back, and if she's hiding, she might finally show herself. I don't know what else to do."

"But this is an empty house. Don't you have any relatives or friends to stay with? I mean, there are probably all sorts of creatures living in here by now, including spiders and snakes and—"

"Don't!" I said. "You're scaring me, and I have to stay here."

"I'm sorry," he said, seeing my determination. "If you're positive you want to do this . . ."

"Yes."

"Okay. Let's go back to the trailer. I’ll dig out some food and get us some blankets," he said.

"Us?"

"Well, you don't think I'm going to let you stay here by yourself, do you? I wouldn't catch a wink of sleep lying back there in my trailer, worrying about you here," he said. "I mean, that candle could have been used by a prowler."

"You don't have to stay here. I'll be all right," I said, but my legs were shaking and my knees knocking.

"I told you, I take care of your oil well, and I'll take care of you," he said firmly.

I smiled in the darkness, grateful for his generosity and concern. "Thank you," I said.

"No thanks required. Let's go get what we need," he said, and we left the house.

The cold watermelon was refreshing. After I had eaten some, I used the bathroom while Jack gathered the bedding and a kerosene lamp. Then we returned to the house.

"Where do you want to camp?" he asked after we entered and stood gazing into the dark.

"Upstairs," I said. "My mother's old bedroom." The glow from the kerosene lamp cast pools of dull yellow light over the walls as we climbed the stairs.

Our shadows spilled behind us down the steps and over the entryway. Jack saw where my attention had gone and laughed. He lifted the lamp making the shadows change their shapes and sizes.

"We're gigantic," he said. "We'll scare away any ghosts that might dwell in these crannies."

"Do you believe in ghosts, Jack?" I asked him. "Sure. I've seen them occasionally."

"Stop," I said.

"No. I have." He paused at the landing and turned to me. "In the swamp at night, floating over the water. Indian ghosts, I'm sure."

"Maybe it was just that swamp gas you described," I told him.

"You don't believe in spiritual things?"

"I believe in God, but not in goblins and ghosts and voodoo spirits. I'm a scientist," I said. "I believe there's a logical cause and a logical reason for every-thing. We might not know it yet, but there is."

"Okay," he said with a small, smug smile on his lips.

"You think I'll be proven wrong?"

"Don't know. I just know what I've seen," he said confidently and continued to the bedroom.

When we entered with the brighter light from the kerosene lamp, the room looked larger. When Jack started to put the lantern down on the vanity table, I spotted something on the bed.

"Wait!" I cried. "Bring the lantern closer to the bed."

He followed me. We both stared down between the two pillows.

"What the heck is that?" Jack asked. "I didn't see it before, did you?"

"No." I reached for it slowly. "It's a mojo," I said.

"A what?"

"The leg bone of a black cat that's been killed exactly at midnight. Powerful gris-gris," I told him. "My mother was definitely here! Either we didn't see this when we were here before or she came back after we left to go to the trailer."

When I turned around, Jack was standing there with his mouth open. "Leg of a black cat?"

"My mother's old cook gave her this mojo. She was the woman who died and came back with the warning my mother never got because she was at a party celebrating her new art exhibit. That's one of the reasons she blames herself for what happened to Jean," I explained.

Jack gazed at me as if I were crazy. "This woman died and came back?"

"I don't really believe any of this," I said. "I told you my mother's having some sort of emotional breakdown."

He nodded and then looked around the room. "Sure you want to stay here?" he asked again, a little tremor in his voice now.

"Positive. My mother might return."

"But what if she's off doing something weird someplace else?" he asked.

"The only way to be sure is to stay here and wait," I said, more determined than ever. He sensed the resolution in my voice and stopped trying to talk me out of staying.

"Okay. You want to sleep on that mattress? It's a little dusty, but if I put this blanket over it and this one over the pillow . . ."

"That'll be fine," I said. "Thank you."

"I'll fix myself a spot over there," he said, nodding toward the settee.

He prepared my bed and then went to prepare his own, placing the kerosene lamp between us.

"You all right?" he asked, after sprawling out.

"Yes," I said. "It's really nice of you to help me like this."

"No problem."

"How old are your two sisters?" I asked. Now that I was lying down in Mommy's old bedroom in the empty mansion and the darkness had closed in around us, I felt the need to keep talking. Besides, I was interested in Jack's life.

"Daisy's twenty-two and Suzanne is twenty-nine. She's married with two kids, a boy, three, and a girl, four. Her husband runs a canning plant."

"What's Daisy doing?"

"She just finished college in Baton Rouge and got engaged. She's getting married in two months to a fellow over in Prairie. His family has a furniture business. They met at college."

"Did you go to college?" I asked.

"Me? No," he said. "I barely finished high school before I went to work with my father on the rigs."

"You said you were working when you were twelve."

"I was, but I couldn't collect a salary yet. How did you remember I said that?"

"I just did," I said quickly, happy he couldn't see me blush.

"No, I got my schooling on the job," he said. "I read a lot, though. We have lots of time to ourselves." "What do you like to read?"

"Mostly about nature. The other guys call me Einstein because I always have my nose in a fat book. I think it's great that you want to become a doctor. 'Course, I've never been to a real doctor, just a traiteur lady."

"My great-grandmother was a traiteur."

"I know. She's kind of a legend around here. You got magic in your hands, too? Oh, I forgot, you don't believe in anything that isn't logical." He laughed.

"Sometimes people get better because they believe so strongly in someone. That's logical," I said.

He was quiet a moment. "I guess it is. You're pretty smart, huh?"

"I get good grades."

"How good?"

"Good enough to be valedictorian of my class," I said.

"No! Really? I thought so," he said. "You just look smart, but I wasn't sure."

"Why not?" I asked laughing.

"Well," he said slowly, "the only smart girls I ever knew were . . ."

"Were what?"

"Not ugly, but not very pretty," he said.

There was a long moment of silence between us, neither of us knowing exactly what to say. Finally I spoke.

"That's silly, Jack. Looks have nothing to do with mental abilities."

"You're right," he said. "I'm just babbling. Tired, I suppose."

"We should sleep," I agreed. "Good night, Jack. Thanks again."

"Night," he said. "You want the lamp on or off?" "On, I think."

He paused and then said, "Not logical."

I had to laugh aloud. "You're a very nice person, Jack. I'm glad you're the one who's looking after my well."

"Thanks," he said. "Pearl?"

"Yes?"

"What did you do with that cat bone?"

"It's still here on the bed," I said. "That's where my mother wanted it."

He was quiet. The wind wove its way through the openings in the house and in and out of rooms below us, sometimes making a whistling sound. Walls creaked, and a loose shutter tapped monotonously against a window frame somewhere. I thought I heard the sound of flapping wings and imagined bats had inhabited the rafters, but I knew they weren't dangerous.

It had been a long, emotional night. Now that I was lying down, my body felt as if it would sink into the mattress. I tried to stay awake to listen for footsteps or the sound of my mother's voice, but before I knew it, I was in a deep sleep.

I sank into dreams filled with the faces of people I had met in the bayou. I imagined the people in the shack who gave me directions, and I dreamed they were outside. They had followed me to Cypress Woods and were muttering to themselves in the shadows. They drew closer and closer and entered the house. They were all coming up the stairs, the woman with the rolling pin arms leading them and the children all following behind. I saw them enter the bedroom and sensed them around me. Their eyes were big, and their faces were liquid, changing from round to oval to round again.

And then I felt a hand on my cheek. It was too real to be in a dream, but I couldn't open my eyes. I moaned and struggled against the invisible bonds that bound me. I tried to open my mouth, but my jaw was locked. I gagged on my tongue and exerted all my strength to get my mouth open. Finally my lips parted and I screamed.

Jack was at my side in moments. I sat up and threw my arms around him.

"What happened? What's wrong? Pearl?" He held me tightly, and I locked my arms over his strong, secure shoulders.

"Just hold me," I pleaded. "Just hold me."

"It's all right," he said, gently brushing my hair, first with his hand and then with his lips. "You're safe. It's all right."

I tried to swallow. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure Jack felt the thump in his chest, too.