The Labyrinth House–Chapter 1

Mercie put on a bright red lipstick. Red was, after all, the best color for lying and that night she had three lies she’d promised to tell. Her mother didn’t think she kept her promises, but she always did.

Josie Winters didn’t think much of her adopted daughter—the salvage project that went wrong. Tonight was Mercie’s chance to make up for her sins to Josie and the rest of the family. The sin was only one, but to Josie one sin was as good as hundred.

Their agreement seemed simple. Mercie would help Josie win back a denied inheritance, and Josie would finally reveal the name of Mercie’s real father.

Her bedroom door opened, and Lin, her hair piled high and held up with chewed up pencils, poked her head in. “They just pulled up. You ready?”

Mercie dropped the lipstick in her purse. “Who wouldn’t be ready for a night of deception?”

“I told you not to go along with this.”

“She’s never going to tell me his name if I don’t.”

“Cora said—”

“I did exactly what Cora told me to do, but, you know, it might not work.” The night before, Mercie had written her wish on a scrap of paper, burned it outside under the stars, and held it up for the wind to scatter.

“Or it might.”

“I don’t want to wait. It could take an age.”

Lin pulled a pencil out of her hair and absentmindedly pressed it to her neck. “I see you’re wearing the lipstick.”

“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t you?”

“Knowing what your mom thinks about lipstick? I thought you weren’t trying to make your mom mad.”

“Suddenly you’re worried that my mom will disown me?”

“I wish she would and get it over it with. No. I’m worried that you want to go through with this.”

Mercie walked by Lin and into the narrow hallway of their tiny house, a rental that creaked in the wind and sagged in summer heat. “Unless you’ve found his name scratched under the floorboards, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“No you won’t.”

“Try me.”

“How do you know she can really tell you? She only met your birth mother, right?”

“She promised.” There came a knock on the door.

“I can’t believe you’re letting your mother turn you into a liar.”

“Yeah, like it took her to do that.”

“But isn’t there something in Bible about, oh, I don’t know, lying be kind of, like, wrong? And doesn’t your mom go to church, let’s see, is it twice a week?”

“Twice.” Mercie tugged at the waistline of her sweater. “How do I look?”

“You look like a night out with me, not like a nice time with the family. Isn’t that sweater a bit red for playing saved?”

“Matches the lipstick.”

“But not your story.”

Mercie put her hand on the doorknob. “But it’s just so dreary. I need the color, all right?” She flung open the door to the gray November light. “Mom!” she said cheerfully. “So glad to see you!”

Her mother tilted her head to one side. “A cold front’s moving in. Don’t forget your jacket. Why hello, Lin. How are you? Your bra strap’s showing, dear.”

“I’m just grand, Mrs. Winters–thank you for asking.” Lin left the strap where it was. “And how are you?”

“Lovely, dear. You’re still working with Mercie, is that right?”

Mercie looked down at the shoes. The girls both knew how much her mother hated her working at a grocery store.

“That’s right,” said Lin. “Paul hasn’t fired me yet.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. Good for you, dear.”

They all smiled awkwardly. “Did you want to come in for a minute?” Lin asked. “Have a cup of coffee before the fun begins?”

Mercie coughed. Her mother avoided coming into their place as much as she politely could. “No thank you, Robert’s waiting in the car. Oh. Do you know that we saw gypsies on the way over here–gypsies!–just a few blocks away. What’s this neighborhood coming to? It used to be so nice.”

Mercie and Lin exchanged glances. The neighborhood had never been nice. “Gypsies, Mrs. Winters?” Lin asked. “Really?”

“That’s right. A ghastly wagon pulled by a horse–a horse!—trotting down the street as pretty as you please as if we’d all be happy to see them. I bet those people don’t even have a license for the thing.”

“Do you need a license for a horse?” Lin asked.

Mercie looked up and down the street, which was wiped clean of everyone. “I’d love to see some gypsies.”

Mrs. Winters shook her head. “Of course you do. Now then, are you ready to go?”

“Completely prepared,” Mercie said.

Lin snorted. Picking up her jacket from the chair by the door, Mercie gave her friend a peck on the cheek. “See you later.”

Mrs. Winters stepped back and tripped over a cat, and the girls had to catch her arm to keep her from falling. “Good heavens,” she said, straightening her scarf. “You got a cat?”

“More like he got us,” said Lin, shivering from the cold coming in. “But we’re calling him Piwacket.”

“Pi-what?” Mrs. Winters stood stiffly as the cat brushed against her legs, leaving black hairs clinging to her gray slacks.

“Come on, Mom. Dad’s waiting for us in the car, and temperature’s dropping already.” The wind hurried and miserable clouds lowered above them. “Don’t worry about the cat.”

Mrs. Winters almost fell off the top step again, but steadied herself and gave Lin a stern look. “Yes, well, I shouldn’t let him in the house if I were you, dear.”

Lin scooped the cat into her arms. “A little late for that since he’s taken to sleeping in Mercie’s bed.”

Mrs. Winters sighed. “Yes, well, lovely to see you, Linnette.”

“And to see you too, Mrs. Winters—as always.” With that she waved the cat’s paw at them before she shut the door.

“She’s always been a silly girl.”

“Very silly,” Mercie said, walking to the car. “But I like her that way.”

“Of course you do.”

*

The northerly wind cartwheeled the brown leaves over the grass and mud until they caught in the azalea bushes along the side of the house. Mercie’s heels crunched in the gravel of the drive, and before she got into the car, she darted to the mailbox. Her relief to find it empty ended when she saw the mailman at the apartments across the street. He hadn’t gotten to their house yet. Well, at least her mother wouldn’t get to ask about the bills.

“Mercie, please hurry yourself.” Her mother stood at the car, tapping the roof of her Lumina.

Hanging back, she glanced down the street to The Sunlight Grocery where she worked. She wished Paul had been less accommodating about giving her the day off.

“Mercie, honestly. What are you waiting for out there?”

Magic and a knight in shining armor—maybe several good-looking knights to choose from.
Putting her head down, she walked back to the car. “Sorry.”

“You’re ready for your grandmother, aren’t you?”

“I said I was.” Mercie jerked open the car’s back door.

“You promised.”

“Yes, I know. Look, I’m getting in the car already. See? Here’s me. Here’s the car. Here’s me getting ready to lie to grandmother.” She pitched herself into the backseat. Her father sat in the front passenger seat and she paused to catch her breath before leaning over to the front and kiss him on the cheek.

Her mother got in on the driver’s side and made a show of fussing with her hair in the rearview mirror.

“Hi sweetie,” he said, and went back to his fishing magazine.

“You’ve done something with your hair?” Her mother sniffed.

Mercie buckled her seatbelt. “No. Same as ever.”

“You didn’t want to get a little trim?” Mrs. Winters backed out onto the street, barely missed the already well-dented trashcans and hit the pothole. “I told you I’d pay for a nice cut.” Her mother sped down the street as if to keep from seeing this part of the world she didn’t care for. Most of the world struck her that way.

“I like my hair the way it is right now.”

“But all those split ends, dear.” She patted her own hair and took the turn onto the highway too quickly and gripped the door handle.

“Josie, there’s no need to bother the girl now. Far as I know there aren’t any salons out on this here highway. Um, you might slow down, dear,” her father said. “I never have known where that fire is.” He went back to his magazine.

They passed the giant red sign advertising The Red Moon—palm readings, Tarot cards, and glimpses into the infinite, and it was just five miles down the road, past an orange grove and ratty field, this side of the flea market. The oranges would be good soon, and they glowed bright in the overcast shadows of the late afternoon. “Could always stop at The Moon. Cora cuts my hair, you know.”

Her father cleared his throat and her mother frowned. Mercie leaned back in her seat in satisfaction. Her mother would leave her alone for a while. Mentioning The Red Moon was a sure way of ending any conversation because they all knew fortunes were not the only things sold in the back rooms. Josie didn’t like to talk about anything that risked reminding her that Mercie’s birth mother had worked there twenty-two years before.

Mercie put her head against the window and watched the wind bend the trees. Lightning startled the sky and she looked forward to rain and the end of the night.

*
Go on to Chapter Two>.