by Alexie Aaron
A breeze blew through the trees. Mia looked up wistfully. She had forgotten how beautiful it was out here before the bulldozers flattened everything for the houses that were never built. She wiped her sticky hands on her jeans before getting back on the bike. Mia marveled that she could still pedal, considering the five miles she had already traveled. “This is what my father meant by young legs,” she said, talking aloud. She continued down the road, and as she approached the farmhouse, she hoped she’d be returned to 2018.
The drive was nothing more than a couple worn ruts in the hardpacked soil. She got off her bike and walked it up the lane. The farmhouse stood empty, its lower windows boarded up. It had such an air of abandonment that Mia dropped her bike and started to cry. Whatever her hopes were at that moment, they were gone. There wasn’t an elaborate cosmic joke involving her. She was stuck in 1998 without a reason why.
She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She picked up her bike and leaned it against the old woodpile. She waded through the brambles until she found the old icehouse where she knew Stephen Murphy’s bones were. This was where his body was placed after he was found dead under a fallen tree. They couldn’t separate the axe handle from his death grip, so they laid him out with the axe still in his hand. The ground was frozen, so they couldn’t dig a grave. They put him in the ice house and forgot about him.
It would be a few years until she would meet Murphy for the first time. He would be her champion when she was being tortured verbally by the teenagers she chose to hang out with. Her peers were mean to her, but still, she needed to belong to something. She couldn’t go her whole life without being connected to other people.
“Oh my god, does this mean I have to do it all over again?” she asked.
“Pardon?”
Mia tensed. She turned around slowly, and there was no one there. She sighed and turned back.
Standing right in front of her was Stephen Murphy, axe in hand.
Mia gasped. “Damn it, you did that on purpose. Just to scare me,” she accused.
Murphy looked down at the young girl, and his eyes twinkled. “Maybe.”
“Geeze, I’m sorry. I just realized I’m all but dancing on your grave.”
“Grave,” he repeated.
Mia reached down and knocked on the exposed wood of the icehouse. “Your grave.”
“How?” Murphy asked, pushing back his hat.
Mia frowned. She was caught out with information she hadn’t learned yet. Would this be enough to alter history and stop her and Ted from ever meeting, let alone having Brian and Varden? “I may not look the part, but I’ve actually known you for eighteen years.”
“How old are you?”
“Twelve, give or take a few months,” Mia said.
To give Murphy credit, he didn’t laugh at Mia. “How is this possible?” he asked.
“To be honest, I don’t know. Last night, I was thirty-two years old. This morning, I woke up a kid.”
“Witch’s curse?”
“Maybe,” Mia said. “Would you like to help me figure this out? I could use an ear, and you’ve been known to come up with some pretty good suggestions when we were working.”
“We worked together?”
“Yes. I’m not sure how much I should tell you because of the butterfly effect.”
“Butterflies are stopping you?”
“No, but… Damn, how do I present this? Where is Ted or pedantic Cid when I need them? Okay, it’s a theory that all things are connected. That if a butterfly bats its wings in South America, it has a ripple effect and can influence our weather here.”
Murphy looked skeptical. He had no idea what this South America was, let alone how an insect could change the weather.
Mia ignored him and continued, “Now we enter time travel. If you go back in time and, let’s say, accidently kill the butterfly, the weather will be different. Maybe a drought happens, or people don’t meet because they don’t have to share an umbrella. Whatever it is, things will not be the same. If I tell you too much, then you may react differently and change the future. I can’t have that.”
“Why would it be bad?”
“Because, possibly, my children will never be born,” Mia said sadly.
“But you’re just a child.”
“But last night, I was a married lady with two boys and an adopted teenage son. This morning, I’m a child again. It’s not fair.”
“What if you can go back right now?”
“I don’t think I’ve screwed anything up - with the exception that I waved at Tom Braverman. I don’t think that’s enough to tip the scales?”
“Is Tom Braverman your husband in the future?” Murphy asked, looking sideways at Mia.
“No.”
“Why did you wave at him?” he asked.
“I don’t know, to be friendly.”
“Why are you talking to me?” he asked.
“Oh, I see where you’re going. Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought,” Mia acknowledged.
“First, let’s find out why you’re here,” Murphy insisted. “Let’s find the witch.”
Mia couldn’t help grinning. “I don’t think a witch is this powerful because…” She stopped and thought about the hag who had been influencing generations of people in the hollow. Witches could be this powerful. But the only witch she knew was Lazar’s grandmother, and although she didn’t like Mia, she wasn’t an evil woman. “Let’s go on the assumption that it is a witch. I need to read up on witches to be sure and…” Mia looked at the hilltop where her library would stand in twenty years. All that was there were weeds. “Damn it to hell!” she cussed.
“Young woman, if we are going to work together, you must behave like a lady, instead of a bad...”
“Mia, my name is Mia Cooper. You used to call me Bad Mia.”
“If I did, who am I?”
“Stephen Murphy, your mother’s name is Catherine Clowes Murphy. Your father, Kevin Murphy, disappeared when you were a boy. You bought this land partially on money raised from some of Catherine’s jewelry. You keep the rest of the jewelry in a crossbeam in the attic of the farmhouse you built with your own hands. You were married to Chastity Murphy, although your heart was first taken by Marie Sarah Lemont.”
Murphy stumbled backwards with the onslaught of so much information. “You must be a witch to know all this!” he accused. He took a stance and raised his axe.
Mia saw more fear than anger in his eyes. She took a step backward. She tried to summon her wings but already sensed that her body was too young to produce them. “I’m not a witch. I was your friend,” she said calmly. “I know what that axe can do. If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly. I’m not very patient.”
He looked at the girl named Mia Cooper and saw her resignation to the possible death that fate had in store for her. He lowered his axe. He had reflexively raised it in fear; he would never harm a child. He’d never killed anyone in life, and he doubted he would in death. “Go away.”
“K, I mean, alright. I shouldn’t have riled you up - or even come here for that matter, but I don’t regret it because you’ve given me some ideas. You see…” Mia pointed to the hill and continued, “in twenty years, there is a library there that may hold the answers to my questions. Well, Mr. Farmer, I know where it resides right now. A demon owns it named Wyatt Wayne. He lives on the other side of the lake where all the rich people’s houses are. I’m going to go and knock on his door and see if I can borrow a book or six. Damn, I should have brought my library card with me to prove I’m a legit reader,” Mia bemoaned.
“You’re going to see a demon, but you’re not a witch,” Murphy pointed out.
“You got me there. I’m not a witch, I promise.” Mia held out her hand. “If I don’t return, I wish you and your trees a happy eternity.”
Murphy looked at her hand a moment and moved to shake it. His fingers moved through her hand.
Mia felt the familiar tingle any contact with Murphy gave her.
“Damn, you’re really something, Murph, really something,” she said and walked over and picked up her bike.
Murphy watched the young girl pedal away. He followed her as far as he thought he could, and then a little farther than he ought. He watched as she coasted down the hill, zoomed past the cemetery, and then out of sight.
Murphy returned to his farm. He didn’t like that the child was going to consort with a demon, but what was he to do? He was only a ghost.
Chapter Two
Mia turned into her street and ignored the boys who had tired of basketball and were shooting arrows into a bale of hay in the yard. She pulled her bike into the garage, parked it by her father’s sedan, and walked into the house intending to grab her library card to prove she could be trusted with a book.
Charles was busy in the kitchen sorting out the TV dinners he had purchased before stacking them in the freezer. “Afternoon, Father,” Mia said politely as she walked through the kitchen.
“Where have you been?” Charles asked.
Mia turned around and smiled. She had the rosy glow that only good health could give you. “I rode into town to do some research,” she told him.
“Did you find what you needed?” he asked her.
“No. Maybe you could help me. You see, I have inside knowledge that a citizen of our town has an extensive private library and very well may have the information I’m seeking. The problem is that I’m a child without references. Could you write a letter explaining that I am well versed in the correct and careful way to use research materials?”
Charles was impressed. This wasn’t the hooligan he thought he had raised. “Yes. But you should change into those church clothes Ralph bought you. A young lady doing research should look orderly and not like a hoyden.”
“Yes, I see your point. Do you think you could drop me off? It’s a long way to walk, and I don’t think my fancy clothes are going to fair well with the bike. I can walk back afterwards.”
“Yes, I can. I’ll go and have your mother type up the reference, and I’ll sign it. You go and get changed.”
Mia looked at the frozen food project and feared that it would be forgotten. It wouldn’t be the first time they would eat refrozen meals. Mia rushed to change with hopes that she would arrive first in the kitchen and would be able to put the food away while she waited on her father. This way, maybe they would not suffer from future bellyaches.
~
Mia rehearsed what she was going to say while she waited on Wyatt Wayne’s porch. The door was opened by a man Mia knew to be Nordin Caswell, Mr. Wayne’s trusted butler. His hair was a little thicker and his body leaner than the man that Mia had met before.
“Hello, sir, I would like to inquire whether I could use Mr. Wayne’s library for a while. I have a reference,” Mia said and handed Nordin the envelope.
He opened the envelope, slid the letter out, and scanned it. “Dr. Cooper is your father?”
“Yes, but I assure you he doesn’t give those out to just anyone,” Mia said.
Nordin smiled. He looked at the sedan in the driveway and waved before inviting Mia in. “Right this way, Miss Cooper.”
Mia heard Charles back out of the drive as the massive door was shutting behind her. “He’s a very trusting man,” Nordin tsked.
“He doesn’t know Wyatt Wayne is a demon. Don’t worry, it stays between us.”
Nordin took a step back and looked at the young girl. “What did you just say, miss?”
“Did I spill the beans? I never realized that you didn’t know that Wyatt Wayne was other than a human.” Mia frowned. She worried that she may have just blown this opportunity with her big mouth.
“I assure you, I know he’s a demon. Demons pay very well. I’m surprised that you, a girl of – what, thirteen?”
“Twelve,” Mia corrected.
“Twelve,” Nordin acknowledged and continued, “would know about Mr. Wayne’s pedigree.”
Mia motioned for Nordin to stoop down. “He’s a fallen,” Mia whispered in his ear.
“How do you know this?”
“I know him in the future,” Mia said.
“I’m sure that is a story best told over tea. Will you have time to join Mr. Wayne?”
“It would be rude not to,” Mia said.
“Very well, the library is this way. And before you ask, I don’t need to ask permission as he’s already given it.”
“He’s amazing isn’t he?” Mia said honestly.
“Are you friendly in the future?” Nordin asked, opening the door.
“No, he’s immune to my charms,” Mia said.
Nordin looked at the waif, taking in her scabby elbows and knees, and swallowed his laughter.
Mia walked in and scanned the shelves looking for books on witchcraft. She sighed in frustration. “There’s so many of them,” she said to herself.
“Maybe I can help you narrow it down,” Wyatt Wayne said, entering the room. The faint scent of frankincense came with him. Mia was reassured that this was indeed her friend.
Mia stared at the possessed old man a moment. She stood there, her eyes watering.
“Come on, you know me in the future. I’m sure I haven’t changed that much,” Wyatt scolded.
“No, it’s just I always feel so safe when you’re around. I almost started blubbering like a…”
“Twelve-year-old?” Wyatt supplied. “Come and sit, and tell me your tale. I’m at a disadvantage, I won’t meet you for…”
“You watch me burn down my house in two years. We meet again sixteen years later, give or take a Michael tantrum.”
Wyatt’s eyes opened wide. Mia could tell she had scared him. It wasn’t her intent. “I’m sorry, I’m way too blunt for my own good.”
“Tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ll give you the broad strokes first. Last night, I was a thirty-two-year-old married woman with two young sons and an adopted teenager. I live over in the old Murphy farmhouse which, as of last night, had been a renovated, livable house. In the middle of the night, I woke up into this nightmare of being a twelve-year-old with the memories of a thirty-two-year-old sensitive but without any of the other interesting qualities.”
“You’re Mia Cooper.”
“Mia Cooper Martin last night.”
“Do you have enemies?”
“Oh yes. Why do you ask?”
“As a twelve-year-old, I imagine you don’t have the same skills as you do twenty years from now.”
“You have that in one. I’ve gone through several transformations. Should I be telling you all of this? Will this hurt you in the future?”
“We’ll try not to discuss my fate, although I sense there’s an archangel in my future.”
“Yes, there is.”
“Tell me about last night. No, wait. Let me read you.”
Mia got up and walked over to where Wyatt sat. She reached over and pulled the demon’s face so that their foreheads touched. “Don’t worry, I can’t read you yet.”
“We’ve done this before,” was the last thing Wyatt said before falling quiet as he read her memories.
“Mia!” Audrey called from the foyer of the farmhouse.
“Up here in the nursery,” Mia said, laying another barely used onesie on the pile of clothes to send to Judy for her and Ed’s new baby.
Audrey came in and plopped down in the rocker. “I hope you’ve saved some of Varden’s hand-me-downs for Luke.”
Mia smiled. “I had Ted calculate the growth rate of both boys. He’s mapped out approximately who will be what when. I have the sizes and the clothes. Don’t worry, Auntie Mia has this covered.”
“Have they come up with a name yet?” Audrey asked. “I can’t imagine not naming a child right away.”
“The naming ceremony is when they will pin a name to the little darling. I hope that they’re thinking about a name that will meld better with the twenty-first century than He-who-walks-through-time does,” Mia said.
“I don’t know.
I like that name. It’s better than naming your kid after a piece of fruit.”
“I told you I loved the name Casaba in confidence, and now you make fun,” Mia feigned irritation.
Audrey laughed. “Who’s all coming tonight?”
“Just the usual suspects: PEEPs, Glenda, Orion, Mark, Luke, and my kids.”
“I thought maybe Lazar and Cid’s new girlfriend…”
“Lazar is with his family at a wedding in Akron, so he’s gone. A good thing too, as I didn’t know Lazar was dating Cid’s girlfriend,” Mia teased.
“Oh, you know what I mean, you stinker,” Audrey said. “I was hoping to get a look at her.”
“Look in Dieter’s yearbook. She’s one of his teachers.”
“Actually, I did but couldn’t really tell much because of the horns and mustache someone had penned over her picture,” Audrey complained.
“I hear she’s a fright of a teacher,” Mia said.
“That means she’s a good teacher,” Audrey assured her. “So, have you met her?”
“No. I’m not allowed to until they have made up their minds whether they are serious or not.”
“I’m surprised.”
“Well, I’m not, especially after the nickname Ted gave them.”
“What name?”
“Well, you know how people combine their names, like Brangelina which is Brad and Angelina…”
“Yes. Orion and I tried that and came up with Ordrey or Audrion. Both sound like appliance manufacturers.”
“Well with Rand and Cid, you could have Cind, but no, my husband comes up with Rancid.”
“Ouch.”
