by Laura Kemp
“I don’t know,” she said, genuinely alarmed for the first time. “Robert didn’t take them when he went after Red Rover in the woods. He must have hidden them somewhere safe.”
“I never got anything,” I said, “All he left was that note.”
“And the birthday card you told me about,” Dylan offered, helpful now that I’d smacked him down. “The one with the orange kitten.”
I remembered tearing it up, the pieces of paper falling like confetti all around me, settling in my hair like snow. And the present, just the color of my bedspread, my birthday still over a month away…
“The gift!” I stood, my chair toppling behind me. “I never opened it.”
“You think Robert put the medicine bag in there?” Iris asked.
I thought about it…thought about all the times I had wanted to open it. How something stronger than myself had told me not to. Until now…
“I’m going to get it.”
Dylan stood, the Ziploc sliding to the floor. “You’re not going upstairs alone.”
“I have to.”
“No,” he insisted, his face furrowed with fear. “Not without the necklace.”
“You need it more than I do.”
“J—”
“I need you here—alive and safe—or I don’t stand a chance out there.” I paused, my heart in my throat. “Or anywhere else.”
He reached down, took my hand in his and I could see the pain he was in, physical and otherwise. “I keep thinking about my dream.”
I glanced at Iris, and she stepped forward. “Grandpa told us to look for a girl with a scar on her knee and a boy who spoke with his mind. The boy would catch fire but never burn, and the girl…” she looked to me. “Her blood would put out the fire.”
I heard Dylan draw in his breath. “That’s where I come in?”
She nodded.
“What if I can’t stop it?”
“You can,” I assured him. “Jamie wouldn’t have saved your life on the riverbank if he didn’t think—”
“I can’t let you risk your life on something I might not be able to do.”
I put a hand on his. “It was meant to be.”
He pressed his lips together, looked down.
“I’ll help you.”
“You’ll be bleeding, Justine. What if I don’t know what to do? What if—”
He stopped short, and I felt his despair. It would have been harder for me if our roles were reversed. If Dylan’s life depended on me believing in something that would have seemed impossible the day before.
“I trust you,” I said.
His smile was shaky. “That makes one of us.”
* * *
I stole into the darkness that was the stairwell to my apartment and climbed the steps to my back door.
All was dark in the kitchen, the air buzzing with the same heaviness that came before a thunderstorm.
GET THE GIFT
WHERE IS RED ROVER?
A pause. I hoped like hell he was working to get me an answer.
ON HIS WAY
I took a breath, imagined how long it would take to walk the eleven miles from Ocqueoc Falls, and crept down the hallway. I felt something brush my bare ankle. A strangled scream and I was against the wall, arms splayed in an attempt to move around whatever had chosen to attack my pink toenails.
Joey.
A low purr and I gave him a little nudge, sending him on his way as I entered my bedroom. I didn’t dare turn on the light for fear of what I would see, and so I made my way to my closet and began rummaging for my present.
As soon as I touched it I felt the familiar fullness in my ears, the sounds of a sleeping apartment dulled to nothing and knew I was about to get an answer when I needed it most.
I remembered Red Rover on the porch, peering in at me as I looked out the window, the purple package in his hand. I saw him draw back, his fingers wanting to rip into the package at that moment but something had stopped him.
Jamie…
I saw him on the porch behind the larger man, saw them arguing as Red Rover told him about the package.
Jamie was laughing, telling him it was just a stupid birthday present and to run because he’d heard me call the cops.
I glanced down, saw the package tucked under my arm, and rushed for the hallway.
I ran down the steps and fumbled for the doorknob. Moments later I was in the kitchen, my grandmother at the front window as I dropped into a chair.
“Got it.”
“Good.”
Dylan stood in the doorway. He seemed relieved but there was very little I could read beyond that and so I put the package on the table, touched the faded paper with a reverence I might have reserved for some holy document, and began to peel it from the box beneath. One layer down and the memories began to wash my heated brain. Dad coming home with a cooler of fish for Mom and me to eat, and later—asking what I wanted for my birthday as he fried the bluegill in our cast iron skillet.
My fingers wandered to the ribbon. One pull and it came away from the paper, another layer uncovered, and I suddenly felt naked, thinking about what would have changed had I opened it right away and found a doll or teddy bear. All these years wishing for a genie to pop out and grant me three wishes.
Maybe it had kept me going.
Or held me back.
A quick tug and I was lower, my fingernails sliding beneath the seam of the box. One movement and the product of a million childhood dreams would be exposed to a little girl who could never make it what she wanted.
The top of the box came open.
Dylan leaned forward, expectant, as I drew out a buckskin bag cinched at the top with rawhide and lined with red beads.
“The medicine bag!” I heard Iris gasp.
I held it in my hand, felt the heaviness of the totems inside and loosened the rawhide.
A small piece of jawbone tumbled out, three canines still attached. A black feather came next, followed by a fragment of shell and the tip of an antler. I spread all four on the tiny table, looked at them and felt the significance of what they represented and did not know if I should touch them.
“The snakeskin?” My grandmother asked. “Where is it?”
“Snakeskin?” I echoed. “I thought there were only four.”
She shook her head. “When Butler performed the resurrection ritual it required a fifth totem—a snakeskin—to grant immortality.” She looked between Dylan and me. “How do you think Jonas Younts survived the lynch mob?”
“But didn’t Odessa know he had become immortal? She had the Sight—”
Iris shook her head. “Grandpa Cal said she was never the same after Butler vanished. A clear mind was needed for the medicine to work, and Jonas Younts took that from her when he murdered the man she loved.”
“She’s talking about Stoddard, isn’t she?” Dylan spoke up, at last, his voice hard.
I nodded, watched as he got up and turned in a circle, clearly uncomfortable with being confined to such a small space.
“At this point, I just want to know what really happened to Karen.”
Iris touched his shoulder again. “Find the snakeskin, reverse the resurrection, and you may just get your answer.”
“That’s a pretty tall order,” I tried to joke, feeling like a laugh was about the only thing that would save me at that moment. “I mean, we have no idea where to start looking and that guy is probably about three miles from here if he hasn’t already hitched a ride with someone who is not afraid to pick up large men after dark.”
My grandmother and boyfriend did not laugh.
“You need the snakeskin. It binds everything together.”
Dylan put his head in his hands, worked the nape of his neck in tiny circles. “Then why don’t you help us find it?”
I sighed, knowing she couldn’t, wondering if it was time to start talking to Adam when a thought struck. “Jamie must have hidden it,” I said suddenly. “If he’s really trying to help us, mayb
e we can find him and—”
“You’re not going anywhere until you get some sleep,” my grandmother insisted. “I’ll call Pam. Jamie and Adam can come here.”
“Justine,” Dylan said, his voice stern, and I knew it was taking everything he had not to bang our heads together and call it good. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I shook my head, determined. “I can’t think of another way.”
“We have to try,” Dylan countered. “And we have to keep moving. This is the first place Red Rover is going to look.”
“The truck was on empty,” I offered, exhaustion settling in. “The Jeep’s still out at Ocqueoc.”
Dylan turned to my grandmother. “Your car—”
“Keys are hanging by the front door,” she crossed her arms. “But you both know it’s time to stop running.”
“Iris—” he began.
“You’re as safe here as anyplace else.”
“What you mean is he’ll find us wherever we go,” I said, the reality of what I was about to face settling in.
“We could buy some time,” Dylan persisted. “Time to think—”
“Nothing to think about,” Iris said. “It’s time to get your brother and end this once and for all.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I couldn’t sleep.
Not surprising…
Lying under a blanket on Iris’ living room floor next to Dylan, I saw a light shining from beneath her bedroom door. I wondered if she was reading and what book she’d chosen for a night such as this.
ADAM?
Worth a try, anyway… maybe I could break the news about Rocky.
I waited a few minutes and tried again.
HEY, LITTLE BROTHER—YOU OUT THERE?
Nothing but Iris’ grandfather clock ticking away the minutes of my life.
I COULD REALLY USE YOUR HELP RIGHT NOW.
A car off in the distance with a very loud muffler…and I wondered if this was Red Rover’s ride.
ADAM, YOU HAD BETTER FUCKING ANSWER ME!
I heard Dylan turn, his breathing finally settling into something close to steady and envied his ability to sleep.
I laid on my back, my hands resting over my chest, listening to the sounds Lantern Creek made as it slept through another night—and wished to be someone other than myself.
I had just drifted off when I heard the voice. “Muffet?”
I flinched, felt Dylan stir and strained to see in the darkness.
It was Dad. Standing in the corner by the china hutch. He wore a canvas shirt open at the collar. His jeans were worn at the knee, frayed at the bottom, his hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
“It’s time,” my father said, coming closer as he kneeled beside me, one hand reaching out to touch my cheek, and I felt nothing but a cool softness where his flesh should have been.
“Where’s the snakeskin?”
“Follow the bird.”
“Where?”
“To a place that doesn’t die.”
I closed my eyes, remembered the breakfast nook and the soft snow that had gathered outside its windows, remembered my father filling the small space with the smell of his coffee and paints.
“I’m scared,” I said suddenly, wanting all the comfort I’d missed in the last ten years. “I don’t think I can do this.”
He smiled, and I remembered how safe it made me feel.
“Autumn is a second spring, when every leaf is a flower.”
“Dad—” I laughed, tears coming now. He loved that quote—used to say it when we were raking leaves into slippery mounds, our feet sliding sideways. The clouds splattering against the sky like purple grapes, when I knew that winter was near.
“Don’t be afraid, Muffet.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Listen to your brother.”
I laughed again, “He won’t answer me.”
“He needs to rest.”
“Dad, please—what do I do?”
“Be happy, Muffet.”
I stared. He had asked me to do the one thing I couldn’t—what had been impossible since that day at the community pool.
“I can’t—”
“You can.”
“You left us!” I said, my voice rising, the tears spilling freely now over my lids as I sought the refuge of my pillow. And still I saw him in the darkness, kneeling beside me, his eyes cast towards the floor.
“I left you long before that day. And I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process what he had said but in the deepest parts of me, I knew he was right.
Only now I knew why.
“I wanted a Dad.”
“I wanted to be one.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
He raised his eyes to mine. “Because I knew this day would come.”
I clutched my pillow, knowing his heartache, his despair, his stoic acceptance of the child that would one day cut her knee on a rusty nail and prove her Grandpa Cal right. The old stories brought to life in a place he had hoped to escape them.
My mother furious.
She had given up other children for this.
But human intentions were no match for fate—and like it or not I would have to face mine in the morning.
I unburied my face, watched as my father dissolved into the darkness and realized I didn’t hear the grandfather clock anymore.
Blinking, I felt certain I had fallen asleep and gave in to the dream.
Standing now, I wandered to the front door, which had become a large piece of whitewashed oak with notches cut into it, all measuring my height from the time I was old enough to stand. I put my hand on the metal knob and opened it.
The snow was falling outside but I was not cold. It brushed my bare feet as I entered our backyard. Passing Mom’s garden, I saw the red bird just ahead in the tall branches of an evergreen.
I followed and wondered if she would scold me, but she never called for me. I walked, the bird in front, through a hushed winter forest, something from an enchanted fairy tale until the path widened and spilled onto Back Forty Farm.
The main house was there, just as I remembered from my vision, white with green shutters, the porch wrapping around it like a warm hug. A sweet house, a warm house, the type of place a child would love.
A woman in a worn gingham dress stood off to the right, a woman I recognized from the book about Back Forty Farm.
Odessa.
She came and stood beside me, began to walk with me towards the house and it seemed as though we had always been together, taking this path that neither one wanted.
“Grandmother,” I ventured, looking at her and seeing my father in the shape of her face.
She nodded, her long hair hanging in a braid down her back, her shoulders straight and strong.
“Did you find Butler?” I asked, my mind fixated on her wanderings through the darkened woods.
She nodded again and smiled. “In time.”
We were in front of the house now and I wanted her to climb the steps with me, but I knew she would have to remain where she was.
“The medicine is a great gift,” she said, her hazel eyes gazing at something just beyond the house. “That comes with a price.”
I wondered what she meant and if it had something to do with how she had changed after Butler’s disappearance.
“Keep the heart that was given to you.”
I smiled, thinking that my heart was something that had always gotten me into trouble.
Just like Dad.
And the woman standing before me.
“It will be a light in the darkness.”
I reached out, took her hand and felt our fingers intertwine.
The next moment I was alone, and so I climbed the porch steps, the bird sweeping through the front door just as Esther Ebersole opened it.
“Come in,” she spoke “The weather is just about to turn.”
I entered her house, watched as the bird flew towards th
e kitchen and perched on top of a china hutch very much like the one in Iris’ living room.
“Do you care for tea?”
I looked at her, her beauty like that of a doll left out in the cold and nodded.
“Cream or sugar?”
“Both, please.”
I followed her to the stove, watched as she put a kettle on and retrieved two china cups from a shelf just over the wash basin.
“Please sit.”
I obeyed, took a seat at a large oak table and folded my hands on top of each other.
“Do you know my Jonas?”
I nodded.
“He cares for Red Rover.”
“Cares for him?”
“Fears for his soul.”
I reached for the cup she sat in front of me. Took a small sip.
“Why should he?”
Esther sat down beside me, put a hand to her neck and smoothed her plaited braids. “He killed my husband, forced the Shaman to make bad medicine.”
“Bad medicine?”
“Black magic has a price. Red Rover knows that.”
“Esther—” I whispered. Understanding why he had fought so hard to destroy me.
“They are damned.”
“And I’m all that stands between them and hell?”
I looked at her again, saw the word pained her, that she wanted Jonas with her in death just as she’d wanted him in life.
“So why don’t you kill me?”
She raised her eyes to mine, her lovely blue eyes that seemed as pale as the moon on a sheet of water.
“I hope,” she began, her hands shaking as she took the china cup. “I hope you can save him.”
“Is that why you came to me at the lighthouse?” I asked, placing my hand over hers to still her. “Because you wanted my help?”
She pulled her hand back, stood and went to the wash basin as the bird flew from its perch atop the hutch and out an open window.
“Take this.” She turned and held out her hand. I reached for it, saw something clasped in her palm and realized it was the cameo. “Give it to Jonas.”
“Why don’t you give it to him yourself?” I asked.
She smiled, her teeth white and straight and still something about it made me uneasy.
“I think you know why I can’t.”
“No,” I stood, intent on finding the bird and the snakeskin and whatever else this crazy dream had to offer. “I don’t.”
