Prom Night in Purgatory (Purgatory #2)(33)

Maggie raced through the kitchen, praying the phone call that had summoned the strange woman had ended. The corridor was empty, and Maggie took the stairs two at a time, flying out of sight just as the front door swung inward, granting entry to the trio of teens that spilled inside. A door opened to her right, and a little girl of about ten stuck her head out as Maggie reached the upper landing.

“Lizzie?” Maggie cried.





~10~

A Time to Sow





The little girl’s eyes widened in horror, and her jaw dropped in preparation to scream bloody murder. Maggie sprang forward, wrapping her arms around the little girl and dragging her back into the room beyond. She slammed the door with her rear-end and sank to the floor, the little girl still clutched in her arms, her right hand clamped tightly against her mouth.

“Please don’t scream! I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t know how I got here, but I will leave just as soon as I can figure out how to get home...okay? Just please don’t scream! I don’t want them to call the police and throw me in jail. I promise I’m not a crazy woman. I’ve just misplaced my.....umm, my house, see. I’ve just lost my.....my sense of direction, yeah! That’s it. I’ve just gotten turned around. Maybe I was sleep walking and came into your house.....” Maggie stopped. The little girl wasn’t fighting anymore. Instead she was gazing at Maggie with extreme interest. Her eyes had resumed normal size and had lost their horrified glaze. Maggie hesitantly removed her hand. When the girl made no attempt to alarm the house, Maggie dropped her arms and released her altogether. The girl sat up and folded her legs beneath her. Her soft brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she wore a silky pair of pale green pajamas with cropped pants and short sleeves. They looked like something Doris Day would have worn....or maybe Carol Brady, although Maggie thought her decades may be a little off. Maggie wished she had a pair. The dress was really starting to chaff.

“I remember you...” the little girl whispered. “You’re Maggie. You called me Lizzie. You remember me too, right?”

Maggie almost moaned out loud. It was all too much. Instead, she nodded her head. “Yes. I remember you. How’s Jamie?”

Lizzie’s one eyebrow rose and her nostrils slightly flared. “My bear?” she said incredulously. Stupid question, apparently.

“Lizzie? Will you pinch me please? Really, really hard?”

The little girl looked pleased by Maggie’s request, the way little girls are when given a chance to get even. She reached forward and, grabbing a small section of skin, pinched Maggie’s arm enthusiastically.

“Ouch!” Maggie gasped, slapping her hand away. “Okay. Yep. Definitely not asleep.”

“Last time I could see through you!” Lizzie cried and pinched her again. When Maggie swiped at her she froze, listening.

“Irene’s coming!!” she hissed, her eyes widening like before. “Why in the world are you wearing her dress? She’s gonna go ape!”

Maggie scrambled off the floor, smoothing the dress and trying to come up with a plausible explanation. The truth was, Irene said she could wear it. Somehow, she didn’t think that would fly.

“Stay here. I will take care of this!” Lizzie poked her head out the door, waving Maggie out of the line of sight.

Maggie hugged the wall behind the door and watched through the crack that was created when Lizzie opened it a little wider.

“Hi, Shirley! Hi, Cathy!” Lizzie chirped in her best annoying-little-sister voice. “Are you guys gonna try on your dresses? Can I watch?”

“Hi Lizzie,” one of the girls replied cheerfully. The other reached out and smoothed her hair. “Are you feeling better? Irene said you’ve been sick.”

“I’m fine. Nana says I can’t miss any more school, though. I milked that sore throat for all it was worth.”

The two girls looked at each other and laughed at Lizzie’s blunt admission. Irene’s friends were both pretty, and though one was dark and the other a redhead, there was a resemblance in their smiles and in the tone of their laughter that had Maggie guessing they were sisters.

“Lizzie?” Irene came out of her room and into the hallway, a perturbed frown on her face. Maggie stared in amazement. Aunt Irene at seventeen was very lovely indeed. She was slim and stylish, and her eyes were a soft blue, her skin a pearly white, and her brown hair perfectly flipped and held back by a thick white headband. Irene’s tearful countenance filled her memory. “I am an old woman. But I don’t feel old inside...”

“Lizzie?” Irene had stopped in front of Lizzie’s door, her arms folded, her hip popped to one side. “When I left today, both of my dresses were laid out on my bed. Now the red one is gone, and it looks as if SOMEONE has been bouncing on my bed.” She tipped her chin to the side and raised her brows at her little sister.

Lizzie pursed her lips and thought for a moment. Maggie held her breath and hoped her grandmother knew how to tell a convincing story.

“Oh that. I think Nana said something about the red dress needing to be pressed or aired out. She said it smelled like armpit sweat...or something.”

The three teens gasped, and the girl named Shirley covered her mouth, trying hard not to laugh. Irene growled deep in her throat.

“Lizzie!”