The Vanishing Act

By Rachel Dib

“9-1-1, state your emergency.”

“Hi, I think I’ve lost my charge,” Bethany said, shoving aside the clothes in the coat closet.

“Your charge, ma’am?”

“Yes. I was hired as an in-home caregiver to Ms. Rose Carterwood.” Bethany closed the closet door and darted back down the green carpeted hallway. “I went to the bathroom for, like, two minutes, and when I came out, she was gone.”

“Have you looked outside, ma’am?”

“Yes, and I didn’t see her. I mean, she’s eighty-two years old and wheelchair-bound. She doesn’t even have a motorized wheelchair, just an old-school one. It’s not like she can get anywhere very quickly.”

Bethany glanced in the kitchen for the third time and, seeing it empty, shook her head. Where is she?

“Can you think of anywhere else she might be?” the operator asked.

Bethany gritted her teeth against the next sentence she was about to say. “I think she magicked herself somewhere.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I don’t think I heard you correctly. Can you repeat yourself?”

Bethany closed her eyes, resting her head against the door jamb of the kitchen entryway. From her tone, she knew the operator had indeed heard her—and thought she was crazy.

I don’t blame her. I feel crazy.

“I think she magicked herself somewhere,” Bethany repeated. “She’s been taking a magician correspondence course. You know, to pass the time. Ever since she started, she’s been doing weird stuff.”

“I understand, ma’am. If you could—”

“No. You don’t understand,” Bethany interrupted, her voice jittery. “I’m not talking about sleight of hand. She hasn’t been doing card tricks or palming coins. No. She put my engagement ring inside an ice cube. A magic ice cube. It’s been sitting outside on a picnic table for three days, and it still hasn’t melted! It’s eighty degrees outside!”

“Ma’am, I’m going to ask you to calm down.”

Bethany let out a mirthless chuckle. “Last week, she vanished her cat. I still can’t find him either, by the way. Not that she’s bothered by his disappearance. She told me he’s a crotchety old goat who does everything in his own time and that he’d reappear when he felt like it.”

“Ma’am, if you could—” the operator tried again, but Bethany ignored her.

Resting the cell phone against her collarbone, she strained to listen to a slight bumping noise.

“Ms. Rose?” Bethany peeked down the hallway but didn’t see anything.

Bedump.

She released a slow breath before lifting the phone back to her ear. “I heard a noise.”

“Do you think it’s the person you’re searching for, ma’am?”

“I don’t know,” Bethany replied as she crept down the hallway. “I don’t think so. It wasn’t a very loud noise. Maybe it was the cat?”

“The missing cat, ma’am?”

“Yeah,” Bethany whispered.

She followed the sound toward the two rooms at the back of the house. Before Bethany could determine whether the bumping was coming from Rose’s bedroom or her sewing room, the noise stopped.

Bethany pursed her lips. “Of course it would stop as soon as I got close.”

“Ma’am?” the operator asked.

“Nothing.” Bethany pushed open the bedroom door. “There’s still no sign of Ms. Rose. I’m checking her room again.”

Since the bedroom had a simple setup with only the bare essentials, there weren’t many hiding places. Well, I doubt she’s under the bed. Rose reached for the closet door.

As soon as she turned the knob, the door flew open, and a fluffy gray tabby bolted through the opening with a yowl.

“You found the cat, ma’am?” the operator asked over Bethany’s cursing.

“Yes. He was in the closet.” Bethany closed her eyes for a moment to calm herself. When she reopened them, she found the cat sitting in the doorway, glaring up at her. He sneezed, flicked his tail, and strutted off down the hall.

“Stupid little…” Bethany muttered under her breath. “Okay, nothing but the cat in the bedroom,” she told the operator as she crossed the hall, “but I’m going to check the sewing room just to be sure.”

“Ma’am, do you still believe you need emergency services sent to the house?”

“Yes. Definitely. If she’s not in this room, I don’t know where else to look.” Bethany cast a quick glance over the mess that was Ms. Rose’s sewing room. “She could be lying hurt somewhere.”

“All right, ma’am. In that case, tell me the address, and I’ll send a patrol car to your location.”

Bethany opened the closet door and let out a yelp of surprise.

“Ma’am?”

“Oh!” Ms. Rose Carterwood stared up at Bethany before peeking past her. “I meant to land in my bedroom, but I guess that’s where Henry ended up. You should go check that closet. He’ll get angry if he’s kept in there too long.”

Bethany steadied herself against the door frame. “When did you wheel yourself in there? I swear I checked this closet, like, ten times.”

“Stop your fussing. I only arrived a moment ago. Went to see my grandchildren.”

“Your grandchildren?”

“Don’t look so surprised. I told you I wanted to go visit.”

Bethany lifted a brow. “Your grandchildren live thirty minutes away.”

“Which is why I had to teleport to them. Wasn’t hard with this spell.” Rose held up a scrap of paper. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d hang this up on the fridge,” she added, brandishing a second paper with a colorful stick figure family drawn on it. “Natalie drew it for me.”

Bethany stared at the picture. This can’t be real.

“I’m off to Bali next, I think.” Rose paused, meeting Bethany’s eye. “Want to come?”

Bethany glanced from the picture to Rose. “You know what?” She shrugged with a slight shake of her head. “Why not?”

“Ma’am?” the operator repeated.

“You can cancel that patrol car.” Bethany squeezed herself into the closet beside Rose’s wheelchair. “Ms. Rose claims she learned how to teleport. If this actually works, we’re going to Bali!”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Dib is a stay-at-home mom of three small children. After marrying a soldier and becoming a military wife, she left her home state of South Carolina to live in random places across the U.S. In her limited spare time, she enjoys reading, writing, and playing board games. Her published work can be found in a few online journals and magazines.

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