Boys Life

nutmeg flavorin’ in it,” the Lady said. “Amelia and me got a whole list of potions worked out for folks who need a little extra courage or confidence or what have you.”
    “Is that how all your magic’s done?”
    “Most all. You just give folks a key, and they can rightly open their own locks.” The Lady’s head cocked to one side. “But there’s other kinds of magic, too. That’s why I need to talk to you.”
    My mother was silent, not understanding what was about to come.
    “Been dreamin’,” the Lady said. “Been dreamin’ asleep and awake. Things ain’t right here no more. Things are tore up on the other side, too.”
    “The other side?”
    “Where the dead go,” she said. “Across the river. Not the Tecumseh. The broad, dark river where I’m gonna be goin’ before too much longer. Then I’ll look back and laugh and I’ll say, ‘So that’s what it’s all about!’”
    Mom shook her head, uncomprehending.
    “Things are tore up,” the Lady went on. “In the land of the livin’ and the world of the dead. I knew somethin’ was wrong when Damballah denied his food. Jenna Velvadine told me what happened at your church Easter mornin’. That was the spirit world at work, too.”
    “It was wasps,” Mom said.
    “To you, wasps. To me, a message. Somebody’s in terrible pain on the other side.”
    “I don’t-”
    “Understand,” the Lady finished for her. “I know you don’t. Sometimes I don’t either. But I know the language of pain, Miz Mackenson. I grew up speakin’ it.” The Lady reached over to her bedside table, opened a drawer, and took out a piece of lined notebook paper. She gave it to my mother. “You recognize this?”
    Mom stared at it. On the paper was the pencil sketch of a head: a skull, it looked to be, with wings swept back from its temples.
    “In my dream I see a man with that tattoo on his shoulder. I see a pair of hands, and in one hand there’s a billy club wrapped up with black tape-we call it a crackerknocker-and in the other there’s a wire. I can hear voices, but I can’t tell what’s bein’ said. Somebody’s yellin’, and there’s music bein’ played real loud.”
    “Music?” Mom was cold inside; she had recognized the winged skull from what Dad had told her about the corpse in the car.
    “Either a record,” the Lady said, “or somebody’s beatin’ hell out of a piano. I told Charles. He recalled me a story I read in the Journal back in March. Your husband was the one who saw a dead man go down in Saxon’s Lake, ain’t that right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Might this have anythin’ to do with it?”
    Mom took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out. “Yes,” she said.
    “I thought so. Your husband sleepin’ all right?”
    “No. He… has bad dreams. About the lake, and… the man in it.”
    “Tryin’ to reach your husband,” the Lady said. “Tryin’ to get his attention. I’m just pickin’ up the message, like a party line on a telephone.”
    “Message?” Mom asked. “What message?”
    “I don’t know,” the Lady admitted, “but that kind of pain can sure ’nuff drive a man out of his mind.”
    Tears began to blur my mother’s vision. “I… can’t… I don’t…” She faltered, and a tear streaked down her left cheek like quicksilver.
    “You show him that picture. Tell him to come see me if he wants to talk about it. Tell him he knows where I live.”
    “He won’t come. He’s afraid of you.”
    “You tell him,” the Lady said, “this thing could tear him to pieces if he don’t set it right. You tell him I could be the best friend he ever had.”
    Mom nodded. She folded the notebook paper into a square and clenched it in her hand.
    “Wipe your eyes,” the Lady told her. “Don’t want the young man gettin’ upset.” When my mother had gotten herself fairly composed, the Lady gave a grunt of satisfaction. “There you go. Lookin’ pretty again. Now, you go tell the young man he’ll have his new bicycle soon as I can manage it. You make sure he studies his lessons, too. Potion Number Ten don’t work without a momma or daddy layin’ down the law.”
    My mother thanked the Lady for her kindness. She said she’d talk to my father about coming to see her, but she couldn’t promise anything. “I’ll expect him when I see him,” the Lady said. “You take care of yourself and your family.”
    Mom and I left the house and walked to the truck. The corners of my mouth still had a little Potion