Bewitched and Bewildered
by
Constance Barker
Copyright 2019 Constance Barker
All rights reserved.
Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Thanks for Reading
Catalog of Books
Chapter 1
“Since Bunny’s disappeared, we’ve got a spare ticket to Miami. You wanna go, Echo? Weather’s supposed to be totes sunny.” Riley Wagner, Echo’s new dorm mate, waddled back from the showers, her green and purple hair wrapped, mostly, in a towel. “C’mon, it’s our freshman spring break. Whattaya say, Eck? We’ll turn some heads on the beach, eat too much, talk some creepy guy into buying us liquor. Adventure awaits!”
Echo really liked Riley. The chubby girl was always dragging Echo to parties and events Echo would never attend if left to her own devices. Of course, Echo really liked her former dorm mate, Bunny. Bunny turned out to be a dangerous enemy, calling herself a Medicine Chick. Like a medicine man, but hipper and less sexist.
Less than a year had passed since Echo learned of her witch ancestry, and it was still difficult to figure out who was friend or foe. She supposed regular life was like that, too, but with witch business, things were more life-and-deathy.
“I don’t know. I’ve left my sisters in charge of my candle business. Maybe I should show up, you know, at least to supervise.”
“You said your sisters have been making candles longer than you have.” Riley unwrapped the towel and threw it at Echo.
“Hey!”
“Don’t be a spoilsport. Guys in Speedos, illegal drinking, sand, surf, sunburns—you know you want to go. I realize the slush and sleet in Fredonia have their appeal.” Riley took her towel back. “I’m lying! Miami freakin beach, yo!”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t maybe me, girlfriend.”
Echo held up her palms. “Let me just check in, see if everything’s okay at home. There was some crazy shooting thing there.”
“You suck.” Riley ran a comb through her colorful locks. “And if you don’t get your ass moving, you’re gonna be late to class.”
She nodded absently, scrolling through her Google search for Great Lakes paranormal happenings. Most of it was ghost hunter reports, which Echo couldn’t care less about. One hit made her visit the page. Second black lion sighting in South Valley State Forest. South Valley, she knew, was about four miles south of Steamburg, New York, but only two miles north of her hometown, South Fishburn, PA. The reports were recent, the latest from last night.
With Bunny on her mind, she read through the story. Bunny Brinkman and three of her cohorts could shift into animal forms. Bunny herself turned into three coyotes. One of the others, a woman who interned for the county coroner, could turn into bobcats. Although Echo and her sisters had left the Medicine Chicks in permanent animal states, it was possible that they had broken the spell. Or was it? Possible wasn’t much of a yardstick in her life anymore.
“Hey, Echo. Earth to Echo. Hello?” Echo turned to find Riley dressed in the ubiquitous uniform of Fredonia Blue sweats. “Time for class.”
She nodded, powering down the laptop and packing it. Strange animal sightings anywhere near home were cause for her to return. She texted her sisters, Quinn and Harvest, as she walked to class.
ALTHOUGH IT WAS LESS than a mile drive, it was part of a state constable’s job to transport prisoners from the jail to the lower courts. Harvest Hutchinson took a peek at her passenger in the rear view mirror. He was African, from the Central African Republic, she thought, and his strong jaw and aquiline nose made him pretty easy on the eyes. The criminal charges against him would put him firmly in the creep category. But Harvest had a nearly unerring instinct about people. Whatever else he might be, Taka Zambo was not a bad man.
“Thank your for not putting handcuffs on me.” He said to her reflection. “I would not want my wife to see me so.”
His accent gave a musical lilt to his English. She gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s only family court. I figure you won’t make me regret not cuffing you.”
“I promise I will not.”
The case, as she understood it, stemmed from a rare outbreak of violence in this woodsy corner of the world. Gang members shot it out in the McDonald’s parking lot in Warren a week before. Taka Zambo’s younger brother, Barif, was an innocent bystander who was murdered in the exchange. What followed was beyond her comprehension. But after all, she wasn’t really in law enforcement. As a constable, she was just here to give the prisoner a ride.
Family court didn’t have much in the way of prisoner detainment. Harvest looked a question at the bailiff, who shrugged and pointed to a chair. Taka sat at a table, and Harvest took a seat behind him.
Moments later, the plaintiff’s party arrived. Quinn, Harvest’s sister, worked for Human Services. She led a pretty young African woman to the opposing table and gave Harvest a what’s-up lift of her chin. Along with Quinn and the girl, a pudgy woman in purple sat with them. Deana Smelty, Harvest recognized, an attorney who handled Human Services cases for the commonwealth.
Almost at the same time, a busty redhead bustled into the courtroom. She settled next to Taka, whispering and patting his hand.
“All rise,” the bailiff pronounced as Judge Bower entered. Bower waved them down. “District Court number 37-3-01 now in session.”
“State of PA versus Taka Zambo on charges of corrupting the morals of a minor and sexual contact with an underage minor. Let’s hear from the plaintiff. Counselor?”
Smelty hauled herself to her feet. “Judge, on March seventeenth of this year, the accused, Taka Zambo, filed for a marriage certificate to wed the plaintiff, Chelby Zambo.”
Lori Bower looked over her glasses. “What is the plaintiff’s maiden name? My paperwork says Zambo.”
“Um, your honor, that is her married name. Chelby Zambo is widowed. Her late husband was the brother of the defendant.”
Judge Bower blinked a few times. “Continue.”
“When it was determined that the intended betrothed was sixteen years old, the state, via Human Services, intervened. The Zambos were living together, along with Chelby’s two children. It was not a safe environment. We submit that the marriage was an intended legal path to pedophilia. While we understand that this is not a criminal court, we ask that the separation of Chelby and Taka Zambo remain in place. That’s really all I have.”
“A short-winded lawyer. That’s a first for this court.” Bower nodded, making a few notes. She turned to T
aka Zambo’s table and the redhead seated. “Are you here on Mr. Zambo’s behalf, Ms...?”
“Crikey dick, no,” the woman stood. Her Australian accent was as broad as the outback. “I do apologize, your Judgeship, but Mr. Zambo’s defense has had to travel quite a distance to make this hearing. I received a call from him earlier, and he should arrive shortly.”
Lori Bower tapped her pen on the podium. “Quite a distance?”
“Yes, ma’am. From Papua New Guinea.”
The judge angled her head back and forth. “I guess you couldn’t get any farther away than that. I’ll give him a few minutes leeway.”
“No need, Your Honor, I apologize for the delay.” A tall, lean man in a burgundy suit and pink shirt burst into the courtroom. He ran a hand through cowlicks. When Harvest saw him, a shock ran through her system.
“You’re the attorney for Mr. Zambo?”
He looked confused. “No, Judge, I’m not a lawyer. I’m an anthropologist. Cade Hutchinson.”
Harvest nearly fell out of her chair. Quinn gave her a look of slack jawed shock.
Dad?
Chapter 2
“Well, that’s another first for this court. You understand the charges against Taka Zambo?”
“I do, Your Honor, and I will refute them to the satisfaction of this court, I believe.”
Bower shrugged. “Believe away. You have the floor.”
“Thank you. What we have here is a cultural misunderstanding. Marriage in this part of the world is quite different from marriage in other nations, on other continents.”
“We are not here for a cultural anthropology lecture, Mr. Hutchinson.”
Quinn couldn’t take her eyes off the man. Her father. When was the last time she had seen him? When Echo was born, eighteen years ago? Maybe once after. He told her he was coming to town. What was he doing in family court?
“I’ll get right to it, then. The concept of levirate marriage, while diminishing, is still practiced in many African nations, including the Central African Republic, where the Zambos formerly lived. In a nutshell, the brother of a deceased man is obligated to marry his brother’s widow. This is to maintain the family unit, to support the children, and contain family wealth. We aren’t talking about the American nuclear family we’re most familiar with. In developing countries, children mean additional labor, custody is not an issue, because clan culture dictates where children, husbands and wives belong.”
Bower shook her head. “Levirate marriage?”
“I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with Mr. Zambo, but I’m sure if you asked him, he would say he proposed marriage to his brother’s widow out of a sense of duty.”
The judge pursed her lips. She locked eyes with Taka Zambo. “Stand up, Mr. Zambo.”
Quinn watched the tall man stand and give a courtly bow.
“Mr. Zambo, why did you propose marriage to your brother’s widow?”
Taka looked down at the table. “I felt I had no choice, Judge. We come from a very dangerous place. We come to a place that is supposed to be safe. Yet my brother is gunned down in the street. Who will protect my niece and nephew, if not me? Who will raise them? Who will see to their mother’s needs? It is forbidden to marry outside our clan.”
“Do you want to be married to Chelby Zambo?” Bower asked.
“It is not a matter of what I want. My wife died in Africa. She was accused of witchcraft, jailed, and murdered. The world is this way. My family, my blood, must be protected.”
Witchcraft! Quinn gave her father an appraising look. So that’s why he was here.
“Objection, Your Honor.” Smelty got to her feet. “Levirate marriage? Really?”
“I thought you said your piece, Ms Smelty. I’m overruling. Chelby, stand up, please.”
Quinn gave the girl’s hand a pat and nodded encouragement. Chelby’s wide eyes went from her to the judge.
“Mrs. Zambo, did you agree to marry Taka Zambo, your brother-in-law?”
Chelby nodded. “I did, Judge.”
“But Taka Zambo is much older than you. More than twice your age. Why did you agree?”
Chelby hiked her shoulders. “It is the only way. My children need to be provided for. It is my obligation. There are no others from my clan, here. The Zambos paid a high price to my family for me. I understand that they must protect their wealth, as well. I do the same for my children, so that they might inherit their father’s wealth when we pass.”
“Paid for her? Your Honor, really!”
“Sit down, Deana. Mr. Hutchinson?”
Dad folded his hands behind his back. “Bride price is money paid to the bride’s family when she marries. It’s comparable to the concept of a dowry paid to a groom. Likewise, if Chelby were to marry another man, her children would not be privy to the inheritance of their father. In fact, if Chelby were to marry anyone outside the family, after having children with her husband, it would be considered adultery.”
Deanna wouldn’t stay down. “Considered adultery by whom?”
“By Chelby,” Dad made a face at the lawyer. “By her family, her clan—”
“This is frickin Medieval, Judge.”
“No, Counselor, this is contemporary Somalia, Kenya, Cameroon, Sudan, Central Asia, Indonesia, Nigeria, parts of Turkey—”
“Enough, both of you.” Bower banged the gavel. “Mr. Zambo, have you consummated this marriage?”
Taka stood again, his face open in confusion. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
To Quinn’s surprise, Dad spoke, rapid-fire, in a language she’d never heard before.
“Ah! No, Your Honor. We are not well enough acquainted yet. But I promise that I will be able to fulfill my new wife’s sexual needs.”
Bower shook her head. “No, you won’t, Mr. Zambo. And, you, Miss—what is your part in these proceedings?”
“Ava Taylor, Your Honor.” The redhead stood up, her freckled face suffused with red. “I represent United International Refineries. We employ both Mr. and Mrs. Zambo. We have for multiple generations, as oil prospectors in undeveloped Africa.”
“You’re here to protect your employees?”
She shook her head. “No, ma’am. To protect our investment. We fully intend to maintain Taka Zambo as a prospector in Africa, once the chaos in the Central African Republic subsides. Or, failing that, as a prospector in other areas of the continent.”
Lori Bower stood. “Ms Smelty, Mr. Hutchinson, in my chambers.”
“All rise,” the bailiff said.
Chapter 3
“I do not understand.” Taka stood next to the Constable-Mobile, Harvest’s heavily wrapped and decaled SUV.
Harvest shrugged. “I’m not in law enforcement, per se. But I think the judge is talking to the district attorney to get the charges against you dropped.”
“Is it illegal to marry your brother’s widow in this country?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s illegal for a thirty-something-year-old man to marry a sixteen-year-old girl.”
“Such a strange country.” He shivered in the mid-March chill. “Will I not be allowed to live with my niece and nephew? Is there a law against that?”
“Law? No. We’ll just have to wait and see what Judge Bower says.”
Not long after, the bailiff appeared. “Hey, Harvest. The DA’s dropping this thing. You can take Mr. Zambo back to the jail to get processed out.”
“Wow. Really?”
“Don’t forget to file your paperwork so you can get paid.” He tipped his hat and returned to the courthouse.
Dad walked from the courthouse, the redhead, Ava, hanging on his arm and smiling up at him. “Good on you, Cade. I suppose it was a piece of piss for a bloke with your background.”
“It’s a lot easier to defend cultural differences than fear and superstition. We were just lucky to get an understanding judge.” He looked up, catching her eye. “Harvest!”
“Excuse me,” she said to Taka, and launched herself into her father
’s arms. “Dad, why didn’t you call?”
“So good to see you, sweetheart.” His hug was fierce. “I called Quinn—didn’t she tell you? Is she staying in town?”
“Staying at the Grams’ for the time being.”
He held her at arm’s length. “Well, what do you know, me too.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Quinn walking from the courthouse with Chelby and the attorney. Quinn broke into a run. “Group hug!”
“I got a text from Echo. She’s coming home for spring break.” Quinn gazed up at her father’s face. “You will stay a while, right?”
“Still some loose ends to tie up, so yes, definitely. My girls. You’re as beautiful as your mother. I haven’t seen Echo since...”
“Eight years ago, Thanksgiving,” Harvest supplied.
“Eight years already?” Dad’s eyes went faraway. “That long. I’m sorry. There’s so much I still have to do.”
“Like get a new suit? Burgundy houndstooth? Skinny tie? Pink shirt?”
Dad shrugged. “It’s a classic. It never goes out of style.”
“Uh, 1985 calling, yes, that suit’s gone out of style,” Harvest spread her pinky and thumb in a phone gesture.
“Well, busy day, I’m going to shoot through,” Ava said. “See you s’arvo, right?”
“Oh, pardon my manners. Ava, these are Quinn and Harvest, my daughters. Girls, this is Ava Taylor, director of international coordination for United International Refineries and Exploration. She hired me when the witchcraft accusations began effecting the company’s interests in Africa.”
“G’day, girls, pleased to meet you. Wow, you look alike. Practically twins.” She squinted at Dad. “How can you possibly have daughters old enough to hold professional jobs, Cade?”
Dad colored slightly and ran a hand through his hair. “Good genes I guess.”
“I’ve got to ring up the directors with the good news. Catch you at the office, Cade. Nice meeting you, girls.”
Harvest sighed. “Taka Zambo is probably anxious to get home. See you at the Grams’ later?”
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