Fountaineville by C.A. Simonsen

Author:C.A. Simonsen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: young adult fiction, small town mystery, dark family secrets, 1950s suspense, boy uncovers old mans past, nod to allied veterans, postwar prejudice
Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.

Chapter Ten

I got little sleep the night of Ned’s revelation. Naturally, the first thing I did the following day was to pay a visit to the hidden soddy, but my witch wasn’t home. Nor was she there the second time I stopped by. The mystery I found myself a part of was not unravelling so much as ravelling, like the Baker Street stories tucked beneath my bed.

There had to be some connection. A phantom of a woman, barely known in her community, going out of her way to find me and tell me a fantastic medieval tale. Me, who coincidentally walked through the yard of her brother every day. I couldn’t understand it.

My witch was Mr. Foster’s sister.

I pondered the matter through June finals and into the initial freedom of summer. Mother and Father continued to live all at once together and apart. There were evenings of silence in the house and evenings loud with quarrelling.

I was spending more time in Mr. Foster’s garden. The weeds that I never saw when he lived there now appeared in full force. I was falling behind. Sneaking over for brief shifts wasn’t getting the job done. Screwing up courage, I asked Mother’s permission to see to the yard and garden, and she surprised me by consenting. My summer holidays were mine to occupy, she said, so long as I maintained my responsibilities at home and let her know of my whereabouts.

“Davis?”

I looked to her.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Tanning my back in the sun as I picked weeds and hauled water, I pondered the situation. What would be the point of Mr. Foster’s mad sister telling me a story about a peasant? Was she lulling me into a level of comfort, waiting for the right moment to give me a potion? Stuff me and mount me like the four-legged creatures that decorated her cavern? No. Ending my life as a piece of living room décor for a midget sorceress didn’t seem likely.

Miss Foster had never given me the slightest show of hostility. She wasn’t a dangerous person. Mr. Foster was as gentle as they come. The two simply happened to be siblings. I decided I was overthinking matters. The woman was merely lonely and eccentric; she’d chosen me by chance for someone to talk to. Probably because she had no one else in her life that would listen.

I made repeated attempts to see the old woman (somehow, through that summer, I’d ceased thinking of her as my witch). The little sod house was always vacant. It was also always unlocked.

It was on my sixth visit that temptation won out. I told myself, just a quick glance from the door—nothing more. Remember how guilt-ridden you were when you invaded Mr. Foster’s privacy? What if she’s had a heart attack? She could be lying helpless on the floor. One quick glance…

The house was quite tidy. There was a pungent aroma, but it wasn’t stinky. A wide array of animals congested the home, but as I moved about in stealth, I saw that each creature had its place.

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