Hazel's Heart

by Terri Reid

  Chapter Ten

  Hazel walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the refrigerator.

  “Wash your hands before you eat anything,” her mother called from the counter.

  “I’m just grabbing a bottle of water,” Hazel replied, pulling a bottle from the refrigerator door.

  Agnes put down the chopping knife and walked across the kitchen, her hand extended. “At least let me open it for you, so you don’t get germs into it,” she insisted.

  Laughing, Hazel handed her mom the plastic bottle. “You know, I could have opened it myself, without using my hands,” she teased.

  Agnes sighed. “Yes, I know,” she admitted. “But sometimes a mom likes to be useful.”

  “You are always useful,” Hazel said. “Even when we pretend you’re not.”

  Opening the bottle, Agnes handed it back to Hazel and then studied her daughter for a moment. “Are you ready to talk about it?” she asked.

  Hazel took a long drink of the cold water and then looked back at her mom. “Talk about what?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Fine, I can wait,” Agnes said, turning and returning to the counter where the vegetables for a stir-fry were being chopped.

  Hazel followed her mother and sat on the bar stool on the other side of the counter. Her mother handed her an apron. “If you’re going to sit there, you need to cover your work clothes up,” she insisted.

  “Oh, for goodness sakes,” Hazel said, and then with a wave of her hand, she was completely changed into clean clothes and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Better?”

  Her mother bit back a grin. “Much better,” she replied, as she chopped zucchini. “So, what aren’t we talking about?”

  Hazel smiled. “We aren’t talking about the new Chief of Police and how I nearly melted when he touched my hand yesterday.”

  “He touched your hand?” Agnes asked.

  “Well, after Fuzzy attacked him…”

  The knife clattered to the countertop. “Fuzzy attacked the chief of police?” Agnes cried, aghast. “What happened? Was he hurt? Why would Fuzzy do such a thing?”

  Hazel grabbed a piece of zucchini and bit into it. “I have no idea,” she replied calmly. “Joseph thought that Fuzzy might have been protecting me.” She shrugged easily. “But he handled it. Once Fuzzy knocked him over and was on top of him, he kind of grabbed Fuzzy’s face and started to talk to him. Suddenly, they’re like old friends.”

  “I’m really going to have to have a talk with Fuzzy about this,” Agnes said, picking up her knife and chopping loudly. “I mean, really, the chief of police!”

  “Yeah, so my knees are a little weak after I witness this whole thing,” Hazel continued. “And so, he gets up first and offers me a hand up. As soon as I touch his hand – blingo.”

  “Blingo?” Agnes asked.

  “Blingo,” Hazel repeated. “My body gets all warm and tingly and hot and bothered and on edge and relaxed, all at the same time.”

  “I always wondered what blingo meant,” Agnes said wryly.

  “Mother, this is serious,” Hazel said with an impatient huff. “I mean, I’ve never felt anything like this. It was life-changing.”

  “For him too?” Agnes asked.

  Hazel sighed. “I could tell he was feeling something too,” she said. “But I guess he didn’t want his life to be changed, because he backed off like I was scorching him.”

  “Really?” Agnes asked. “Well, that’s odd.”

  “Right?” Hazel agreed, snatching another piece of zucchini. “So, I went inside and got the ticket for him.”

  “What ticket?”

  “The ticket he gave me for parking in front of a fire hydrant,” she replied. “He said he’d made a mistake and I was innocent.”

  “Why would he say that?” Agnes asked.

  Hazel puzzled over that question for a moment. “Well, I guess he could have watched the video camera footage from Harley’s place,” she said. “And seen that I originally parked behind the store.”

  “Wouldn’t you think that if he’d seen the footage, he would be asking a bunch of questions?” Agnes asked. “I know I would have.”

  “Would have what?” Cat asked, coming into through the back door.

  “The new police chief came over yesterday afternoon and took back the ticket he gave Hazel for parking in front of a fire hydrant,” Agnes replied. “He said he’d made a mistake.”

  Cat looked over at Hazel. “What do you think?”

  “I think he must have seen the footage and saw the truck was moved by someone else,” she said. “He seemed regretful, well, at first.”

  “Then how did he seem?” Cat asked.

  Hazel turned in her seat and looked at her sister. “Why? What happened?” she asked.

  “Donovan stopped by this morning,” Cat admitted. “He said that we needed to be careful. He said the others were becoming bolder and more powerful.”

  “Well, that’s just what I wanted to hear,” Agnes said. “We need to open Henry’s grimoire and read what’s next.”

  Cat closed her eyes and stood still for a moment, then opened her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t feel that it’s time yet,” she said. “Something else has to happen.”

  “What?” Hazel asked.

  Cat shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “But there’s still a link missing.”

  “Well, we need to hurry up and find your missing link,” Hazel said. “Because the other side is raring to go.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’d like to see her,” Joseph said to his grandfather after they’d finished their lunch.

  Henrich closed his eyes slowly and shook his head. “It will do you no good,” he said. “There has been no change.”

  Joseph lifted up a shopping bag and placed it on the table. “I brought these,” he said. “They are new, experimental drugs. They could help her.”

  “How did you get those?” Henrich asked.

  “I have ways,” Joseph replied. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

  Henrich reached over and grabbed his grandson’s arm. “You speak too lightly,” he said. “You say I don’t have to worry, but of course I do. If you are caught and imprisoned, how long will it take others to discover our secret? How long until there are people searching for us? How long until our lives are destroyed?”

  “You can’t let fear rule us,” Joseph argued. “It has ruled us long enough. It is killing little Gabriella. It has killed others. When do we stand up and let people know who we are?”

  “Never!” Henrich whispered harshly. “Never do we tell. Never do we show. We learned our lesson two hundred years ago. Why do you think we came here and made our home among the hills?”

  “You mean made your hiding place among the hills,” Joseph said. “This is not a home, it’s a cage. We dare not go out. Dare not be seen. What kind of life is that?”

  “It is the kind of life that has kept us safe for two hundred years,” Henrich replied, patting his grandson on his arm. “It is the kind of life that most of us choose.”

  “Not my father,” Joseph said.

  Henrich nodded and smiled sadly. “And you see what it got him.”

  “Happiness,” Joseph replied quickly, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Even for a short time, it brought him happiness.”

  Joseph stood up and lifted the final bag. “I have a gift for her,” he said. “I will not take much of her time or overtax her strength.”

  Henrich stood and placed an arm around Joseph’s neck and pulled him close for another hug. “You take the time you need,” he said softly. “And we will try the medicines. But please, please be careful. Not for me. Not for our village. But for yourself.”

  “I will, grandfather,” Joseph whispered. “I promise, I will.”

  He turned and walked away from the old man, his shoes echoing against the old wood floor. He opened the kitchen door, closed it behind him, and then walked over to the narrow stairca
se leading up to the personal apartments above the church. He climbed the stairs and walked down the dark hallway. At the end of the hall, he tapped lightly on the door and then pushed the door open.

  “Hello, Gabriella,” he said as he peeked around the doorway.

  “Joseph!” the tiny girl squealed with delight, but then was hit by a spasm of coughing.

  Joseph hurried to her side and lifted the glass of liquid sitting on her nightstand. “Here,” he said gently, lifting the glass to her lips. “Just sip. It will ease the cough.”

  The girl obediently sipped and the coughing subsided.

  “How does it taste?” he asked.

  She screwed up her face. “Like old leather and fish oil,” she replied.

  “I think I would rather cough,” he teased.

  She grinned up at him. “I agree with you,” she said. “Too bad Sister Helga does not agree with us.”

  This time Joseph screwed up his face. “Sister Helga?” he asked. “Does she make you take that other awful potion she creates?”

  The grin spread to a wide smile. “Yes!” Gabriella said with an eager nod. “She makes me take it every single day.”

  Joseph reached into the bag and pulled out a stuffed teddy bear. “Well, I brought you this to keep you company,” he said. “And to reward you for taking all the medicine Sister Helga gives you.”

  He placed the bear in the child’s arms and watched her draw it close and cuddle it. “It’s so soft,” Gabriella purred. “I have never felt anything so soft.”

  “It’s a magical bear,” Joseph said to her, sitting on the side her bed and pushing her bangs away from her forehead. “You can talk to it and tell it all of your secrets.”

  “Will it make me better?” she asked hopefully.

  He felt his throat tighten with emotion, and he nodded slowly. “Well, I suppose we shall see, won’t we?” he asked.

  “Then we can run together,” she said, her eyes gleaming with hope. “We shall run for miles and miles.”

  He leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Yes, we will,” he agreed. “And no one will be able to catch us.”

  She leaned back on her pillow, still clutching the bear, her face wan and her breathing shallow. “I’m a little bit tired, Uncle Joseph,” she whispered.

  He pulled the blankets up to her chin and tucked her in. “Well, you and your new friend should take a nap,” he whispered. “Pleasant dreams, sweet one.”

  She yawned and nodded. “Thank you, Joseph,” she said quietly, then closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  Joseph slowly stood up, careful not to jar the bed and the sleeping child, and back out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

  “I hope you didn’t mean what you said about my medicines,” a woman’s voice said behind him.

  He turned quickly, nearly hitting his head against the low, sloped ceiling, and saw a young, raven-haired woman dressed in a red and black dirndl standing before him. Her long, dark hair was held back by a red scarf that matched her apron, and the black and red embroidered dirndl underneath the apron was decorated with fine needlepoint hearts and flowers. Her black corset was laced tightly across her small waist, further emphasizing her décolletage that displayed in an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. She looked up at Joseph with a little pout on her red lips.

  “Helga,” he replied, surprised and a little ashamed of his comments. “No. No, of course not,” he stammered. “We were just having a little bit of fun.”

  “Fun, at my expense?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, fun in order to make a very sick child laugh,” he said sternly, not allowing himself to be pulled into her game.

  She moved closer to him and placed her hand on his arm. “Please forgive me, Joseph,” she said. She lifted wide-eyes to him that seemed to be filled with sorrow. “It’s just that I know I have done everything I can, but little Gabriella is not getting better.”

  He patted her hand gently. “We all know how tirelessly you have worked to keep her well,” he said.

  “But I will be the one to bear the blame if she does not recover,” she said.

  “We did not blame you when Peter did not recover,” he replied, wondering how this conversation went from Gabriella’s needs to Helga’s. “I think we all realize that in order to continue our security, we are limited in our choices.”

  She stepped up even closer to him. “Do you believe that, Joseph?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper.

  “Of course I do,” he said. “I would not have offered those words if I did not believe them.”

  “You are so good with the children,” she continued, sliding her other hand onto his other arm. “I do not think the others realize how much time you spend visiting the sick children. And you, a man without a family of your own.”

  Joseph tried to step back to create a little distance between he and Helga, but the slope of the roof caught him in place. “I’m concerned about the children,” he said. “They are part of our community. They are our future.”

  “And your future, Joseph,” she asked, sliding her hands further up his arms. “What do you want for your future? A willing wife? Strong children of your own?”

  Suddenly they both heard coughing from inside the bedroom. Joseph started to turn, but she held him in place. “She will be fine,” she insisted. “She just needs to get it out of her system.”

  Surprised at her vehemence, Joseph pushed her hands off his arms. “That may be true,” he said. “But I cannot bear to hear her cough like that without going to her. Excuse me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Donovan parked his car in the underground parking garage beneath his building. He stepped out, clicked his fob to lock the car and turned to head to the staircase.

  “Hello, Donovan,” the woman’s voice came from directly behind him.

  He stopped but didn’t turn around. “I’m in a hurry, Wanda,” he said curtly.

  He felt her hand slide over his shoulder, smelled her musky perfume and heard her breath in his ear. “I can do hurry,” she whispered.

  He felt her press her body against his back and realized that her obvious attempt to seduce him had absolutely no effect on him. “That would cheapen us both,” he replied.

  He heard the sharp hiss and then his body was swung around to face her. He saw the rage in her face and caught her arm before she moved it again, possibly sending him across the lot and into the concrete walls. “No. You don’t get to take your tantrum out on me,” he said deliberately.

  She struggled to pull her arm out of his grasp, but he held it securely.

  “You’re nothing,” she finally spat at him. “You were a guttersnipe, an outcast, no one wanted you. You think those Willoughbys are great, the Master told me that they just used you. They needed your power, they needed your skills. They were just amassing an army and you were an easy recruit.”

  Donovan didn’t allow the words, thoughts he’d often wondered himself, change his demeanor. He merely stared down at her and curled his lip in disdain. “The Master and I have already had conversations about the Willoughbys and their influence in my life,” he said firmly. “And he knows that I am loyal to the cause.”

  “Does he know you were kissing up to Cat this morning?” she asked with a satisfied smile.

  “He sent me,” Donovan replied easily. “But I’m sure he didn’t tell you, probably because he knows he really can’t trust you to keep your mouth shut.”

  Her eyes widened for a moment and then narrowed them, studying Donovan carefully. “So, you’re the one who decided on the strike this evening?”

  Donovan’s heart lurched, but he allowed his mouth to curve into a slight smile. “Who else would the Master choose to select a target?” he asked.

  “I almost don’t believe you,” she replied, slowly shaking her head. “I almost don’t think you know about the attack on the Willoughbys tonight.”

  His heart pounding in his chest, he met her eyes directly. “
You can believe what you want to believe,” he said. “As a matter of fact, the Master would prefer it if people were confused about which side of the war I’m on.”

  “Like a double agent,” she said softly, nodding her head with delight. “So, those bitches think you’re with them and they’re going to trust you with their secrets.”

  “The Master has asked me not to confirm or deny those kinds of questions,” he replied, releasing her hand. “And I won’t, as long as we understand each other.”

  She stepped back and nodded. “I want to be there when they find out that their beloved Donovan betrayed them,” she laughed. “I want to see the look on their faces, especially Cat’s face, when she discovers you were part of the group that destroyed their store. Those Willoughbys have had it coming for a long time.”

  Donovan hardened his gaze and thinned his lips. “And it’s comments like yours that are going to destroy our side,” he said harshly. “How do you know that I’m not a traitor? How do you know that I’m not going to tell the Willoughby’s about the attack on their store? You need to be a lot more discreet, or you will be more of a hindrance to the cause than a help.”

  Wanda shrugged and smiled. “Even if you were a traitor, there’s nothing you can do about it now,” she said. “The explosives have already been planted and set. The party’s going to start in fifteen minutes. There’s absolutely nothing you could do.” She shook her head and smiled. “But you knew that. You’re just trying to confuse me.”

  “You passed the test, Wanda,” he said with an approving smile. “Now, I have to get to my office and you need to get somewhere public, so we both have alibis.”

  “Oh, right,” she said, nodding. “I’m supposed to be at Harley’s. Everyone knows that Harley is a friend to the Willoughby’s, so he wouldn’t lie for the coven. It’s the perfect place.”

  She turned and hurried across the parking garage, her footsteps echoing as she went.

  Donovan turned and ran to the steps, taking them by threes, he dashed down the corridor and into his office. He started to call Cat, but then stopped. “They’ll know,” he whispered. “They’ll know I called her.”