The banging on the door was both sharp and incessant, stirring Nora McGee from her new page-turner, a Patterson thriller she’d picked up at Houghton’s Bargain Books. Her annoyance was instant; she knew that knock, and it could only be Mrs. Humphries.
The family – mom and dad, grown son, grown daughter and new son-in-law – had moved into a house across the street only six months ago, yet she’d managed to complain or rant or gossip more in that half-year than any other neighbor has done in the forty-plus years she herself had resided in Glenview Heights. It was endless, and she would corner anyone she could. The noisy neighborhood children. The rising cost of college. The faulty septic system they’d inherited.
She hauled herself out of her reading chair, removed her glasses, and answered the door.
Before her stood Caroline Humphries, all five-feet-ten-inches of her, dressed in her usual look-how-much-my-husband-makes blouse and pants, topped by an October-appropriate sweater. She did not look chatty.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Humphries,” she said pleasantly, with a smile that was forced but didn’t look it. “How are you today?”
“I’ll tell you how I am,” the other woman scowled. “Step outside for a moment, if you please!”
With an inner sigh, Nora stepped onto her porch. Caroline Humphries pointed toward the front yard of her next-door neighbor, Hettie Kraft, who had lived in the neighborhood even longer than she had.
“Do you see what’s sitting there in her yard?”
Nora remembered, and knew what Mrs. Humphries was speaking of, but she leaned out and looked anyway. There in the center of Hettie’s yard, propped on a post and surrounded by candles, was a goat’s head.
“Do you see what she’s put in her yard?”
“Yes, Mrs. Humphries,” she answered. “It’s a Halloween decoration. It’s only three weeks away, after all; Hettie’s put out decorations every year that I can remember. Most of the houses in the neighborhood do, as you can see. My Robert, rest him, used to carve-”
“You know very well that our family does not indulge in that sort of thing!” Mrs. Humphries cut her off. “We are a Bible-believing family, and want no part of that pagan devilry!”
“And you are free to do as you choose, of course,” Nora agreed. “But you can’t expect others to ignore a holiday just because you yourself-”
“It is not a holiday!” Mrs. Humphries interrupted again. “It is a wicked ritual that corrupts the souls of innocent children! The scriptures are very clear-”
“Yes, that’s all just fine,” Nora interjected, happy to be the interrupter for once. “But, again, you don’t get to choose for others.”
“Look at that! Look at that!” She pointed very deliberately at the goat’s head. “It’s not just sitting there, staring out at the sidewalk, waiting for passing children! It’s pointed directly into our living room window!”
Nora peered at the goat’s head and frowned.
“I think you might be taking this a little too personally-”
“Your next-door neighbor is a witch, Mrs. McGee! I’ve heard from plenty of the others around here what goes on in her backyard at night, and in her basement! She knows that the Lord Jesus abides in our home, and that... that thing is a spell on us!”
Nora stifled a laugh just as it burst from her, and she lowered her head politely.
Mrs. Humphries took a step back.
“I am putting together a petition to submit to the homeowners’ association to have it removed, and as you know, I only need 30 signatures. I do not think I shall have trouble achieving that threshold. You would be wise to mention this to your friend next door before this goes that far!”
And with that, she turned and marched off.
Sighing outwardly this time, Nora returned to her book. She’d talk to Hettie later; she’d be taking her nap right about now.
The next day, Nora did talk to Hettie, who looked terribly confused when she heard of Mrs. Humphries’ complaint. Tiny and frail as she was, she looked all the more vulnerable in her confusion. But, with some disappointment, she nodded and told Nora that she would do as Mrs. Humphries asked. Nora felt terrible.
Days passed, and again came the sharp and incessant banging. Nora opened her door to an even angrier Caroline Humphries.
“Did you see? Did you see?”
Nora didn’t bother greeting her. She simply leaned out and took in the view of three rickety, handmade broomsticks, leaning together in the middle of Hettie’s lawn.
“Witch’s brooms!” Mrs. Humphries almost shouted. “This, Mrs. McGee, is a deliberate provocation! I am moving forward with my petition-”
“Mrs. Humphries,” Nora said, “please. I’m sure Hettie means no harm. Why don’t you let me speak with her again, and see if we can work this out?”
The other woman paused, still obviously incensed.
“After all,” Nora continued, “she listened to me once before, didn’t she? Perhaps this time she just made a bad choice. Let me speak with her?”
“Well,” Mrs. Humphries frowned, “all right. But only because it’s chilly out here and I don’t care to walk the entire neighborhood this evening!”
She turned and walked down the driveway, but called over her shoulder, “She had better make this right!”
More banging...
“Yes, Mrs. Humphries?”
Hettie’s new decoration was... spiders. Not just one, but a nest of them, arranged in the center of the lawn.
Black spiders, toys, large but more playful-looking than grotesque.
Nora gave a weary sigh. “Mrs. Humphries, what can possibly be wrong with that? Everyone uses spiders as Halloween decorations! Why, I’m certain they’re hanging from the ceiling of your children’s schoolrooms-”
“Our children have graduated already, you may have noticed,” came the reply, “and besides, we home-schooled!”
“Of course you did.”
“I’m no fool, Mrs. McGee! I am familiar with Jeremias Gotthelf’s accursed novel, and I am fully aware that the spider it represents the moral consequence of making pacts with the devil! Your neighbor Hettie is taunting us, seeking to curse our family simply because we are devout, and steadfast in our opposition to people like her! I’ll do more than see her curses put down; I’ll have her run out of-”
“Mrs. Humphries,” Nora stopped her, almost raising her voice. “You are certainly mistaken. Hettie has tried to oblige you repeatedly now, putting tamer and tamer decorations out, just to please you. I will prove it: I will inform her that she needs to change it yet again, and this time there will be no symbols, no creatures of any kind. Fair enough?”
The other woman sniffed, turned, and walked away without a word.
“They’re marigolds!!!” Nora almost shouted into Mrs. Humphries’ face on her next intrusion. “Marigolds! How in the name of all that’s holy could you object to marigolds?”
They were actually quite beautiful. There were many of them, and they were arranged in tiered circles.
“I am not fooled!” Mrs. Humphries almost shouted back. “Marigolds are a symbol of broken love! She is casting a spell of despair on our household! She wants to break up my marriage, to cause my Douglas to leave me!”
“Mrs. Humphries,” Nora said firmly, “that is simply not so! Why, the marigold is a symbol from your own faith! It is a token of veneration and praise to the Virgin Mary!”
“In my faith, of course!” Mrs. Humphries replied. “Do you expect me to believe that that... that witch... would ever present a Christian symbol? Her arms would fall off first!”
Nora felt weary.
“I have had it up to here, Mrs. McGee,” Mrs. Humphries fumed. “I have been patient, I have given that woman chance after chance. Now, I appreciate your efforts, but this is over! Done! I am moving ahead with my petition, and nothing you say this time can stop me!”
Nora suddenly envisioned Mrs. Humphries standing in doorways, trying to explain the literary deviance of Jeremias Gotthelf and marigolds-as-homewreckers to their neighbors. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Well, best of luck with that, Mrs. Humphries,” she said as she closed her door.
As it happened, Mrs. Humphries didn’t need to move forward with her petition. Two days later, Hettie’s porch and yard were filled with pumpkins; old-fashioned jack-o-lanterns, hosting bright candles, with both hilarious and spooky façades carved with loving care. People actually stopped to take pictures.
On Halloween itself, Nora was retrieving her mail from her mailbox out by the street when she heard the Humphries family piling into their SUV. Caroline approached her.
“We are on our way to prayer service,” she announced as if it mattered at all to Nora, “but I wanted to let you know some things, Mrs. McGee. Your friend’s best efforts have come to nothing! We’ll be giving praise and thanks this evening: this month, not only have we suffered no curse of any kind, but Douglas was promoted to a senior management position at work! We’ve received a municipal grant to get our horrid septic system replaced, so we won’t have to spend our vacation fund on that. Our son’s been accepted at the university, with a scholarship! And, best of all, our daughter and her husband are expecting! Praise the Lord!” And she marched away without waiting for a reply.
When evening arrived, Hettie sat in her yard, handing out treats. She actually looked like the cultural stereotype of a witch, right down to her gnarled hands, and had gone to the trouble of dressing as one. But three generations of kids had grown up here, and they all knew her to be loving and gentle and fun.
Nora approached Hettie as the trick-or-treater traffic was subsiding.
“Lots of kids out this evening, Hettie!” she said cheerfully.
Hettie nodded with a smile. “Yes! Yes! And they all looked so fine! I confess I don’t understand most of their costumes anymore...”
Nora laughed. “Superheroes, I think,” she nodded. “And the latest Disney.”
She retrieved another chair from the porch and sat next to Hettie.
“I’ve thought a lot about the Humphries,” Hettie said solemnly. “I thought and thought. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t please that woman.”
“I know,” Nora replied, “and I admire you for even bothering to try. She’s just horrible.”
“Oh, no!” Hettie said. “She loves her husband, loves her children, and what else matters? I was just trying to do my part.”
“Well, she had this idea that you were casting spells on her family,” Nora said. “I know that’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, but I was,” Hettie replied, wide-eyed, “I was!”
“What? What do you mean?”
“The goat’s head, that was for her husband,” Hettie explained. “I know she thinks all that Bible stuff about Satan, but the goat’s head is really a symbol of leadership, of strength and resilience. You know – Capricorn!”
Nora thought about it, nodded.
“The broom is about cleansing, purifying a space. That was for their home,” she continued, “and spiders, that was for the son - they symbolize curiosity, learning. Growth!”
Nora pondered Mrs. Humphries’ earlier announcements.
“The marigolds were for the daughter,” she went on. “They represent the cycle of life.”
Nora shook her head in wonder.
“What about these pumpkins?” she asked, waving her hand at them. “Aren’t they just pumpkins?”
“Oh, no,” Hettie answered, leaning close. “That one’s special. From me to her!”
“What do they symbolize?”
“Why, generosity, of course,” Hettie answered.
Nora looked into the eyes of the sweet old woman, lit up by candle glow from the pumpkins below. She leaned in, hugged her, and rose to return to her home.
“Good night, Hettie,” she smiled.
“Good night, Nora! Sleep well!”
Taking off her sweater, Nora McGee sat down at the dining room table, opened her laptop and did some googling. After a few minutes of reading, she dug up a white candle and matches, then plucked a feather from a living room decoration.
She lit the candle, held the feather in her hands, palms facing upward, and spoke the blessing spell on the screen before her – casting it to Hettie Kraft...
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