My husband and daughter are both very crafty. They get a certain look when they come up with a new project and they have come up with a lot of interesting projects. They build things: longboards from scrap plywood, a huge camera obscura in a room in a local art building, models of dinosaurs and insects, a camera that came with the directions in Japanese that they had to take apart and reassemble three times. They made an awesome igloo one very cold winter that our daughter played in for weeks. They create crafts from paper: monsters and beautiful stages and cards for special occasions. They made gingerbread houses that I am certain terrified the local librarian (if you don’t believe me: one had tiny army men attacking raging dinosaurs). They use metal and wood and welding equipment and flame and glue and power tools and nails and screws and all kinds of materials to create…things. They can also paint and sew and knit and draw.
I, however, do none of these things. Oh, it’s not that I can’t. I have made things, and I enjoyed it. But I get bossy. I admit it. I think things have to be done perfectly and that makes me… difficult. So, I am a helper. I watch. I fetch extra supplies. I make treats. I provide all the necessary “oohs’ and “aahhhs”. I wait for the next project.
Willie Loomis is a helper too. He just does what people tell him to do. But I cannot imagine being poor Willie. His crafters are, in a word, crazy. Barnabas and Julia have made an agreement with Adam. If he allows Victoria to go home unharmed (he has kidnapped her and threatened to kill her), then they will create him a partner. Now there’s a project. Making a person. You’d think that they were planning to whip up a pan of brownies the way they talk about it. Of course, Barnabas and Julia are so busy pouring over Dr. Eric’s notebooks (not written in Japanese but still just as confusing), they do not have time to collect the necessary materials…the necessary materials being body parts. What to do? Well, ask old Willie, of course!
Now Willie refuses. He is upset. He is disgusted. He won’t do it. He would rather be sent back to the insane asylum for the rest of his life than dig up bodies in the cemetery. He rages. He shakes. But Barnabas tricks poor Willie. He makes him think that Maggie, Willie’s unrequited true love, will be in terrible danger if he doesn’t cooperate. Poor, simple Willie. For love, he agrees to dig up corpses.
Digging in the cemetery, Willie gets caught by Joe Haskell. You remember Joe? He is Maggie’s fiancé, the man who was attacked by Adam, nearly died, recovered, got bitten by Angelique and now has to do her bidding. That’s where he was headed when he found Willie. Angelique’s pull was stronger than Joe’s sense of civic duty, so Willie got away. He begs Barnabas to let him run away, but that’s never going to happen. Willie, the helper, cowers in terror, waiting for the police to come for him.
The worst thing that has ever happened to me when my family was doing a project was a little super glue on the dining room table.
I was so upset.
Next time, I’ll remember Willie and put it all in perspective.