“Guess they’re not,” said my sisters.
We listened to our small breathing in the room. The night was silent all through until dawn.
“TEA FOR TWO and two for tea,” sang Father, pouring his breakfast drink. He chuckled and patted himself on the back. “Ha ha ha,” he said.
“Papa’s happy,” said Ann to Mama.
“Yes, dear.”
“Even in spite of his poison ivy.”
“In spite of it,” Papa said, laughing. “I’m a magician. An exorcist!”
“A what, Papa?”
“E-x-o-r-c-i-s-t.” He spelled. “Tea, Mama?”
Henrietta and I ran to our library while Ann was out playing. “Ex-or-cist,” I read. “Here it is!” I underlined it. “ ‘One who exorcises ghosts.’”
“Run them around the block?” wondered Henrietta.
“No. Exorcise, silly. ‘To eliminate, to do away with.’”
“Kill?” wailed Henrietta.
We both stared, shocked, at the book.
“Has Papa killed our ghosts?” asked Henrietta, eyes filling with tears.
“He wouldn’t be that mean.”
We sat, stunned, for half an hour, getting cold and empty. At last Ann walked into the house, scratching her arms. “I found where Papa got poison ivy,” she announced. “Anyone want to hear?”
“Where?” we asked, at last.
“On the slope under our window,” said Ann. “All kinds of poison ivy there that was never there before!”
I closed the book, slowly. “Let’s go see.”
We stood on the slope, and there was the poison ivy, all loose and not rooted. Someone had found it in the forest and carried huge baskets of it here to the slope to spread about.
“Oh,” gasped Henrietta.
We all thought of Father’s swollen face and hands.
“The ghosts,” I murmured. “Can poison ivy exorcise ghosts?”
“Look what it did to Papa.”
We all nodded.
“Shh,” I said, finger to my mouth. “Everyone get gloves. After dark, we’ll carry it all away. We’ll exorcise the exorcise.”
“Hurray!” said everyone.
THE LIGHTS WERE OUT and the summer night was calm and sweet with flower scent. We waited in our beds, eyes gleaming like foxes in a cave.
“Nine o’clock,” whispered Ann.