by Willa Reece
“Granny said dark curls indicate Ross blood,” I said. I looked up at the thick waves on top of Jacob Walker’s head. They looked even darker in the amber light.
“Old wives’ tales,” Jacob said. “Diluted by half a dozen generations.”
“But the wildwood knows,” I said. The wildwood had stood against Reverend Moon and Hartwell Morgan tonight. With our help. Jacob’s and mine. We’d come back to the mountain. To work. To grieve. To reconnect with something we’d lost. Lu had been here all along. Supporting her community with her musical gifts. More responsible than anyone but Granny for bringing all the artists and artisans together. The people who were most open to hearing the whispers from the world they drew inspiration from.
“A trio,” Jacob said.
“We’ll see,” I replied. Our connection couldn’t be denied anymore. It was there to tap into or not as I pleased. I wasn’t irrevocably tied to anyone or anything. Wildwood magic, once you recognized it, was a choice. We could take it or leave it, day by day. Right now, I had a lot to process about this man who could very easily be a part of me, body and soul, if I allowed him to be. I finally turned, pulling my curl from his fingers. And he let it slip easily from his hand.
Thirty
Hartwell Morgan wasn’t dead. Although Violet had been covered in his blood, the head injury she’d given him with one of his high school football trophies hadn’t killed him. She’d managed only to save herself from his fists and leave him unconscious on the floor of their ugly home.
I thought of his life being spared as I packed my suitcase, knowing that some of his victims hadn’t been so lucky.
Violet hadn’t wanted to return to her gilded cage even with Hartwell in jail, so she’d moved in with Granny for the time being. Every bedroom in Granny’s Queen Anne Victorian was full, including one made up as a nursery for Lorelei’s baby. The brave Sect girl was a huge help with Violet’s recovery. The mayor’s wife had suffered a sprained ankle and a broken nose as well as a chipped tooth, but even bruised she looked more beautiful than ever with her hair soft, wearing jeans, and singing Appalachian lullabies for the baby.
With suitcase in hand, I paused in the doorway of the nursery and waved. Violet smiled. We’d already said our goodbyes.
Fallout from the Sect settlement raid and ongoing criminal investigations had rocked the town. Morgan’s Gap was subdued as it headed into its usual Christmas festivities. There was no mayor to oversee the parade or the lighting of the tree. And all the local churches experienced a sudden diminished interest in their ladies’ auxiliaries. More than one household on the mountain resumed the vintage tradition of carrying in a Yule log from the wildwood to fill their hearth and home with warmth… and connection… around a blazing fire.
I had been at Granny’s for over two months to help out with Violet, Lorelei and the baby. And to recover from my own injuries. But, also, because I was shaken. By what we had done. By what the wildwood had done. By the ugly confrontation in the woods and the not-so-ugly conversation with Jacob afterward.
I wasn’t ashamed to admit I seriously considered bugging out. Old habits die hard and I’d run from relationships much less intimate than the ones I’d found in Morgan’s Gap. It was a quiet evening in front of the fire with Lu and Jane that had made me realize I was changed. The harmonica player’s reluctance to marry and move to the mountain had completely disappeared after the Sect attack. Lu had carried her over the threshold of the shop only a week after. No officiant necessary beyond the music they made together.
But Granny had helped me bake them an elderflower wedding cake. They’d eaten slices by firelight while I had basked in the wonder of suddenly having two sisters, three mothers, a grandmother and a town full of aunts and uncles.
My suitcase was packed only for a return to the cabin and the winter work that waited for me there. I loved Granny’s house and Morgan’s Gap, but I missed the black locust trees and the wildwood path. I missed the forest stillness… and a certain quick fox I hadn’t seen in a while. No one tried to stop me when I decided to go home. I loaded my basket with supplies and drove the old Chevy with practiced ease out of town.
Smoke curled from the chimney when I rounded the last corner of the driveway. The weather forecast was calling for snow. The heavy, moist atmosphere caused the smoke to fall and linger around the metal roof rather than dissipate in the air. I parked the truck and carried several bags of groceries, my basket and my overnight bag into the cabin.
I wasn’t afraid. The fire wasn’t an intrusion. It was a welcome. I saw Tom’s buck cross the backyard and I knew Violet must have told Tom I was returning. The fire was just beginning to heat the house and I was grateful for his help. Tom had been the one who had pulled the photograph box from the closet. He’d wanted me to know that Sarah was his daughter and that he was a friend. He hadn’t understood I would be frightened by the arrangement of frames while I was gone. Violet had explained his reasoning to me. Tom could communicate better with her than with anyone else. He and Melody Ross had been in love, but his father wouldn’t allow him to marry her. The morning she’d been killed, Tom had been badly injured by a Sect man who’d been ordered to keep Hartwell’s brother away.
Hartwell had confessed to helping Moon murder Melody Ross. But he had drawn the line at murdering his own niece. It was Reverend Moon who had hunted Sarah and me down. And Sect men who had run us off the road.
I hadn’t met the Sect woman who had run away to give me a better life. Not yet. She was embroiled in the investigation process and I wasn’t sure how to introduce myself. It was enough, for now, to know she was alive and well and free. There would be time enough for a meeting.
And to decide where we went from there.
I was becoming used to motherly women in my life. Sadie, Kara and even Joyce mothered the entire town, but they seemed to especially relish that role with me. Maybe because I’d never known a mother’s love. Once I had allowed it, they had swept into the vacuum with honey, harmony and dandelion wine.
I put the kettle on and prepared my mug for peppermint tea. I’d dried numerous bundles of fragrant leaves from the bank of the creek near the wildwood garden. So there would be plenty of my favorite brew to last through the winter. I still had a tin of valerian too. Occasionally, I allowed myself to soothe nightmares away. But I was more rooted in the present now. More often than not my dreams didn’t disturb my rest.
I retrieved the Ross Remedy Book from the fox bag Sarah had given me. It was time. While I’d been in town, I’d ordered a fountain pen from a stationery shop in Charlottesville. I took it out now, along with the small bottle of greenish-brown ink and the refillable converter. The pen had been crafted out of cherrywood. I inserted the converter. Then, I opened the bottle of ink. I carefully went through the motions of filling, wiping the nib and putting the pen back together. Process was important. I’d learned that now. Mindful attention to details I would have skipped or rushed through back in my former life. To fully connect to wildwood magic, you had to breathe, take your time and appreciate.
The weight of the pen was pleasant in my hand. A promise of the contributions I would make to the book that had helped to save my life. I placed the prepared pen beside the remedy book. Then I screwed the cap back on the bottle of ink and set it aside.
I’d already chosen the place where I would add Charm’s likeness to the book. There was a glaringly bare spot on the back of the blackberry preserves recipe. The first major task I’d accomplished and my first taste of the wildwood. I could still vividly recall the slightly sharp, woody and rich taste of the plump berries.
I’d practiced many sketches of Charm in pencil on scrap paper. I’d also practiced with the fountain pen since it had been delivered. But the first line I scratched on the remedy book’s page sounded loud and momentous. It also stood out from the other faded marks, in color and in freshness. I’d wanted that. The contributors to this book had mattered. Their individual efforts needed to be defined. Recognizin
g Melody Ross’s drawings had helped me determine that Moon and Hartwell were more dangerous than we had realized.
Since then, I’d asked Granny to help me identify some of the other Ross authors. I planned to add a descriptive key in the back of the book identifying as many contributors as we could determine. I’d also spoken to Mildred Pierce about adding to the library. I wanted to add books on Appalachian arts and crafts. The history of natural medicines. Granny doctors. She’d been clearing out some of the Morgan paraphernalia as we talked and seemed very interested in what I had to say.
Charm came to life beneath the gentle scratches of my nib. I drew him as I’d first seen him, on the windowsill in the moonlight, when the owl had hooted and I thought he was only a dream. The sketch was small. It nestled in the bottom right corner of the page, but it was the perfect size and shape for the outline of the window around him.
There was also a fox on the page. Granny agreed that Sarah must have doodled the foxes. They were in the same style as her other drawings. She’d probably grown up seeing Jacob’s fox in the wildwood. It seemed to like to hang out near the wildwood garden. Much like Jacob Walker. I suspected Sarah must have known the fox was important. The same way she had always known where to find lost dogs in Richmond.
When Charm was finished, I watched the ink lighten slightly as it dried.
I was a part of the Ross Remedy Book, now. Forever.
I already had some ideas to try in the spring when the flowers started to bloom again. I would practice and perfect. I would “trial out” any recipe I came up with, as Granny would say, on the trio and Granny herself. It might be many seasons before I added my own concoction to the book, but I would. It was a goal I’d set for myself now that I was carrying on in the Ross tradition.
My most important goal was a big one and it would take a long campaign of building enthusiasm in the Morgan’s Gap community. I wanted to bring back the tradition of apple butter day by next autumn. I’d been inspired by Lu’s market. And Sarah’s memories. There were a lot of churches to contact and the old cannery to revitalize, but I wasn’t intimidated. I’d faced worse obstacles in my life and overcome. And for this project I had my newfound wisewoman family to back me up.
I left the book open so the ink wouldn’t smudge before it was fully dried. The kettle had been softly whistling for a while. I prepared my drink, then, using the afghan as a shawl, I carried my steaming mug to the front porch. I wondered if Jacob’s fox was too wild to seek shelter from the looming storm. Puffs of white from between my lips joined the peppermint-scented steam as I shamelessly watched for the fox.
To no avail.
Directly following the night we’d stood up to Reverend Moon, I had watched for Jacob every day. I expected him less frequently now. I couldn’t help recalling the feel of his hot mouth on my finger, but that was a private weakness for no one else to see.
I’d read too much into everything.
I could blame only lack of practice and rusty social skills. Those were improving. From only Sarah, my family had grown by so many. Almost every person who had shown up that night to help us was part of my circle as I was a part of theirs.
I finished my tea and went back into the cabin. The fire Tom had built in the woodstove had created a cozy haven from the temperature dropping outdoors. I rinsed my cup and went to the living room to warm my fingers. They still ached sometimes when I allowed them to get too cold. I’d watched for the fox for too long.
Charm appeared on the front windowsill. He had ridden in the basket from town, but since we’d arrived he’d been scarce. Probably exploring the whole house to make sure not a dust mote was out of place. He watched through the window as if waiting for the snowflakes to begin to fall.
The Jeep didn’t take him by surprise. My fingers hadn’t stopped hurting. They were still stiff when they reflexively clenched and I hissed at the pain. I tossed the afghan on the chair and forced them to loosen by shaking them at my sides while Jacob parked. He climbed out, but he didn’t look toward the cabin. His eyes were directed at the wildwood when he reached in the backseat and retrieved the cherry hiking stick. It was the first time I’d seen him use the gift. My chest tightened around my lungs, constricting my breath. Snow had begun to fall. But, Jacob didn’t come to the front door. I watched him slowly stroll around the side of the house—all strong, controlled grace—his eyes still on the trees.
I went to the back door and through the glass I saw him appear in the backyard at the same time the fox jogged from the wildwood path. The snow had already lightly dusted the ground. It swirled around the fox’s feet, disturbed by the swish of his tail.
Jacob leaned to scratch the ruff of the fox’s neck and the quick creature paused long enough to allow it before he skipped away. Jacob straightened and met my eyes through the glass. He paused, much like the fox, and I looked my fill. He’d trimmed the messy waves of his hair. Not short, but definitely shorter. His bangs no longer threatened to obscure his vision with every move of his head. His clothes were different too. He wasn’t in uniform, but he wore straight-legged jeans instead of hiking pants and his shirt was more stylish too. A button-up oxford under a peacoat, both black, with the coat’s lapel left open to the elements.
Only his old boots were the same. Trusty hikers that I’d been right to assume had been used to log a lot of miles on mountain trails.
His pause ended as suddenly as the fox’s had. He came toward the cabin and I opened the door. Snow flurried in around me, melting kisses against my cheeks.
“The first snow,” he said. Flakes clung to his curls and to his collar. I invited him inside, resisting the urge to dust his shoulders. He stomped his boots and knocked the tip of his hiking stick on the stoop before he accepted my invitation.
“Your fox is welcome to come inside too,” I said. Charm made a noise from the windowsill that was either affirmation or argument. I couldn’t be sure. But it didn’t matter because Jacob leaned his hiking stick against the wall and shrugged out of his coat while shaking his head. “He won’t come. Too wild. He’ll curl up in a pine thicket with a friend, then come out and hunt in the drifts tomorrow morning.”
I went to the kitchen to reheat some water. Jacob moved to stand beside the woodstove.
“I haven’t seen you around.” I prepared two mugs of peppermint tea this time, glad I’d purchased a set. My pulse was too quick. My words even quicker. The heat in my face wasn’t caused by steam, but I hoped he wouldn’t notice when I delivered his tea.
“It’s been a crazy time for us. Wrapping up this case. Tying down all the loose strings,” he said. He took the tea from me and I stepped back quickly because I’d accidentally leaned too close.
“Am I a loose string?” I asked. I cradled my mug in my hands, appreciating the warmth on my fingers. Then I sipped, appreciating the distraction of having something to do even more.
Jacob paused again. I saw his gaze drop to my neck. The bruises had faded. I was fine. Steam rose, but I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing while he watched me trying to figure out why he was here.
“In a way, but not because of the case. My work has complicated things between us. I wanted to give you time to decide how you felt once you knew who I was and what I was about,” he said.
“Do I know? I’m not sure. I think at times you were more yourself with me than you were supposed to be. At other times, you were obviously working. Digging for information. Trying to keep your distance,” I said.
“And failing,” Jacob reminded me wryly. Would I ever forget the shocked look on his face when he’d taken my fingertip between his lips and licked the thorn prick? That hadn’t been Federal Agent Walker. That had been wildwood Jacob. Through and through.
“Once you said, ‘the wildwood knows.’ Do you really believe that?” Jacob asked. He had followed my retreat by one step. I had to tilt my chin to meet his eyes. I probably should have backed away. But I didn’t.
“Beliefs are built over a lifetime, aren’t t
hey? I believed it when I said it. These last couple of months I’ve been living at Granny’s. Away from the wildwood. I missed it. Felt like I needed to get back. Needed not wanted. And then when I got here I still wasn’t satisfied. Like something was missing,” I said. Beliefs were built over a lifetime. Trios were as well. Sadie, Kara and Joyce had taken years to form the alliance of power they used to help the rest of us. Something told me my alliance with Jacob and Lu could become even more powerful if we allowed it.
“Or like someone was missing,” Jacob said. Steam no longer rose from his cup. He leaned to set the cooled liquid aside on the coffee table. As he moved, he brushed me with his arm and the scent of forest shadows and woodsy air teased my nose.
I still clutched my cup to give me something to do. It took several tugs from Jacob before I realized he wanted me to release it. He set my cup beside his and then straightened to face me again.
Somehow we were closer together still. I hadn’t moved. My feet might as well have had roots anchoring me to the ground. Not because I didn’t want to be closer. But because I didn’t know how. In spite of having more loved ones in my life, I was still too used to standing alone.
“I’ve known there was more to this world than most people understand before I could walk and talk, but I strongly believe in conscious decision. That day when I found you pruning the blackberry bushes, something came over me. Attraction. Fascination. A connection I couldn’t ignore. But I didn’t mean to set something in motion that hadn’t been mutually agreed upon,” Jacob said. He took another step and I still didn’t back away. He’d given me plenty of time to move. He wasn’t touching me in any way. “I wanted the wildwood to know you, to accept you. I won’t lie about that. But…”
