“Is that it?” Michelle asked, after Pink left the room.
“Is that what?” Mrs. Souder said, her back to Michelle, twisting to look over at her.
“Is that . . . I don’t know . . . is that all there is? I mean . . . can I go home now? Back to my old life, the way it was before? My daughter?” Michelle’s words felt clumsy and stilted in the wake of what she had just experienced.
Mrs. Souder turned her spatula toward Michelle. “That’s not what we were doing,” the old woman said. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I can’t open it. I don’t have those kinds of powers.” The old woman spun back to the skillet as if Michelle should have assumed that all along.
“I don’t understand . . . how . . . what can I . . .” Michelle muttered, confused by all the ceremonious rigmarole. What had that been about, the chanting, the fire, the shiny blade at her chest?
“Lulu opened the portal for Pink and me,” the old woman said over the sizzling of the meat. “Then she closed it. I don’t have the slightest notion how she did it.”
“But I thought that’s what you were doing, the stuff about the door and all? I saw light pouring through the opening doors.”
“I was trying to understand what happened, why you ended up here, trying to get answers from the Outer Realm, from Lulu.”
“And?”
“Only one thing came to me,” the old woman said, shoveling a pork chop onto the waiting plate. “Isabelle.”
“Isabelle?” Michelle asked.
Pink padded back into the kitchen.
Mrs. Souder slid her eyes toward her son, setting the plate down in front of an empty chair. “Oh, I bet they can smell these chops all the way over in Arkansas,” Pink said, rubbing his palms together as he sidled up to the plate. “Sure you don’t want one, Mrs. Stage? Put iron in your blood.”
Michelle shook her head, glancing over at Pink’s mother, who was at the sink drying dishes, her back to the table.
Pink finished both pork chops and sat a moment picking his teeth before he asked Michelle if she was ready to go. Mrs. Souder had left the kitchen and hadn’t returned. Michelle had no idea where she was, thinking maybe she’d gone to bed.
“Mama, we’re leaving,” Pink called to the hallway.
A moment later Pink’s mother appeared under the small archway to the kitchen in her bathrobe and slippers. “Why don’t you go warm up your car first,” she told Pink. “So Mrs. Stage won’t get cold.”
“Sure, but it ain’t gonna do much good with the window broke out and all,” Pink said, pushing himself up from the table. Mrs. Souder waited to hear the front door close before she spoke. “I suspect that you will be able to return to your previous life tonight if you’re ready,” she said to Michelle, “if that’s what you want. But there is a catch.”
Michelle waited, watching the old woman’s colorless eyes.
“You will have to take Pink with you,” Mrs. Souder said.
“Take Pink?”
“I am almost certain Isabelle opened the portal. Isabelle wants him back.”
“But I thought Isabelle didn’t practice witchcraft. And why would she—”
“Not the Isabelle that lives with Pink. The Isabelle Pink killed. Isabelle from the other realm. That’s why you were given the pentacle.”
Michelle was confused, trying to make sense of something that could not be reconstructed through reason.
“Horrible images came to me in the circle tonight,” the old woman said. “Images I can’t begin to explain, things I have never seen before. I fear Pink has done something unspeakable with Isabelle’s body, something disgraceful to her spirit.”
“How can I get Pink to come with me? He’ll never agree.”
“I’ll take care of that,” the old woman said.
“What about you?” Michelle said. “If Pink goes . . . you’ll lose him forever.”
The old woman pulled out the chair and sat. “I lost Pink the moment Ida and I deceived him. We should have told him who he was from the start. I have tried to change what has happened, and it’s all gone terribly wrong. Now he must go back, or he’ll kill Isabelle again. At least if he returns, I can try to help Isabelle get well, so she can live out her life.”
Michelle wanted to say something to Mrs. Souder, but could not find any words that seemed to make sense.
“It was unforgivable what Ida and I did to those children.” The old woman hung her head, curtains of gray hair falling forward, covering her cheeks. “What hurts the most is . . .” she added, raising her head, “knowing Pink will be alone. In his whole life, he’s never been alone.”
“I’ll try to help him if I can,” Michelle said.
The old woman stared up at Michelle through glossy eyes, using her bent fingers to push the hair from her face. “He won’t know you, child,” the old woman said. “Once you pass through, Pink will have no idea who you are.”
Michelle could not fully grasp the implications of what the old woman was saying, or how Pink might react, or what she might find when she “passed through.” She had no idea how much time had elapsed? Or how to explain Cliff’s death to Cassie, if Cassie were even there? Wherever there was. She couldn’t tell Cassie that her father shot himself—there would be no body, no funeral, just numerous unanswerable questions, impossible leaps of faith. Then another thought broke in: Where was Cliff’s body? Was it still in Ardenwood or on the way back to Atlanta? If she left, who would take care of his remains? Michelle felt a dizzying sensation, close to what she’d experienced in the circle, except this one left her nauseous.
“You need to go now,” the old woman said. “Don’t be afraid, child. Isabelle only wants Pink back. She has no row with you.”
Michelle felt a hollow opening in her chest, as if something had fallen out, leaving behind a flimsy space that could collapse at any moment. The emptiness spread to her stomach, her knees. She held her eyes on the old woman a second longer, trying to restore balance, then turned down the hallway toward the front door.
In the driveway, Pink’s Suburban pumped a tower of billowing steam up into the night sky. Michelle cinched her collar around her neck and dashed toward the car, stepping high to traverse the deep snow. When she got in the Suburban, Pink slid out the other side.
“My mama wants something,” Pink said, motioning toward the house. “I’ll just be a second.” He hitched up his trousers as he trod back toward the front porch. Michelle saw Pink’s mother standing in the doorway, watching Pink approach, glancing occasionally in Michelle’s direction. Snow fell heavier now, nearly erasing both Pink and his mother as he climbed the steps and disappeared inside.