The Root of Magic

by Kathleen Benner Duble

  Finally, he looks up at her with those eyes of his. “Thanks for one of the best days ever, Willow,” he whispers.

  If Willow could hit pause on some movie of her life, she would do it now so she could always replay this very moment.

  He sighs. “If only…”

  “If only what?” Willow asks, surprised that there is an “if only.”

  Topher laughs and shrugs. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  She wishes she knew why it always seems like he is keeping something from her, and she is tempted to press him for an answer. But she also doesn’t want to ruin this night.

  And soon, the moment for asking has passed, for Topher says, “See you tomorrow?”

  Willow nods. “Sure.”

  Topher grins and jumps from the porch, giving her a wave. “Sweet dreams,” he calls over his shoulder.

  He walks down the hill from Cora’s toward town. Like a fragment of a thought, he is soon swallowed in darkness, appearing and reappearing each time he passes the streetlights that wind their way toward the center of town, and Willow is alone on Cora’s porch with a smile still on her face.

  * * *

  She cannot go to sleep. Her mind reruns her own personal YouTube of skate and scare, of hug and game and hug again. She is only able to drift off long after she hears the clock in Cora’s living room chiming the midnight hour.

  So she is surprised to wake in the very early morning, and even more surprised to find that her mom is not beside her. The bathroom is dark. The only sound she hears is Wisp turning in his sleep.

  Willow waits. But her mom does not come back.

  Unable to resist her curiosity any longer, Willow climbs from the warm bed and makes her way to the window. In the moonlight of an after-storm sky, Willow can see clearly down to the brick building by the lake. And there is Cora, plain as day, working her way toward the building. Then Willow’s breathing halts, because there too is her mother.

  Willow runs to put on her clothes. She wants to find out what is in that building that would explain why her mother is wandering outside with Cora in the middle of the night. Could it have something to do with what Angeline said? But suddenly, with the sound of a small beeper, Willow realizes that Wisp’s nausea drug must be wearing off.

  Normally their mom wakes up in the middle of the night to give Wisp his medicine. She never forgets. But Willow sees that Wisp’s pill is still sitting next to his bed. How could her mother leave before Wisp took his medication?

  Willow wants to follow her mom, but she has no choice. She has to stay.

  She shakes Wisp gently, and he wakes up unfazed. One small pill, one small sip of water and sleep pulls him down again.

  Willow stands, unable to move from his side. She watches as Wisp’s eyes flutter with dreams. And she remembers those days when they were younger, when he was always trying to keep up with her, and how she sometimes pushed him away. He was the annoying baby brother, the kid in the way, someone to pick on and tease, someone to leave behind when Willow went on her adventures with Elise hiking through the woods, skating on ponds, bike riding the streets.

  His lashes lie lightly against the dark circles under his eyes. His thin body gives a slight shake.

  What if he does die? She knows she isn’t supposed to let her mind go there, but she can’t forget her father telling her mother that the doctors said it was a possibility.

  Willow thinks of all the things about Wisp that she would miss if that awful thing should happen: the way his voice is always at shouting pitch inside or out; how he runs through their house at warp Wisp speed, knocking things over and never stopping; how his grubby hands are always on her things, marking them like an animal marks his territory. She has to admit—she would miss his bad-mannered boyishness.

  And Willow knows in that moment too why she doesn’t tell Wisp she loves him. If she says I love you to Wisp, which she rarely does, she will change her relationship with him, because she would only be saying it in case he should die. So is she really any different from her mom, who keeps on fighting? Willow too wills her brother’s body to try harder to heal.

  But maybe, she thinks, loving someone who is ill means finding the courage to face the pain you know will be yours if the unthinkable should happen. Maybe she and her mother are not saviors and battlers and solid rocks but selfish, flawed humans who do not want to suffer.

  Willow moves nearer to her brother’s bed. She takes a deep breath, steadies herself as she does when faced with the threat of the puck coming near her net. And she wills herself to have courage and take a baby step while he is sleeping, when no one will hear but the night. She bends over him.

  “I love you, Wisp,” she whispers.

  Softly, he whispers back. “I love you too, Willow,” and Willow jumps in surprise.

  “Fooled ya,” he says, grinning. “You thought I was asleep. Ha!”

  Willow grins back, and then they both laugh out loud.

  Willow will not leave her brother alone tonight. She can ask her mom what she was doing up in the middle of the night tomorrow.

  Instead, she pulls the quilt off her bed and slips into a chair near her brother. And she sits and rocks until at last, she hears her brother’s steady sleeping breath. Then she closes her eyes and relaxes into sleep too.

  * * *

  When Willow wakes, she is back in the bed she shares with her mom, and her mom is asleep next to her. Sunshine is streaming in through the bedroom windows, heightened and brightened by the white world it shines down on.

  Her mom stirs, and Willow waits. Finally, her mom opens her eyes, and when she does, she surprises Willow by smiling.

  “Good morning,” she says, reaching out a hand to stroke Willow’s hair. “You must be feeling great. You slept so deeply last night.”

  “Did you notice this when you finally came back from leaving us?” Willow asks.

  But her mom just laughs. “Oh, you did sleep deeply. I didn’t leave last night. You must have been dreaming.”

  Her maniacal happiness is haunting, but her lying is even scarier.

  “That’s not true,” Willow protests. “I got up and gave Wisp his medicine. You weren’t here.”

  Willow looks over to where Wisp is sleeping, for backup. But his bed is empty.

  “Willow, you were dreaming, that’s all,” Mom says, her voice soothing, reassuring. “No need to worry. Not anymore.”

  But worrying is all her mom knows these days. It is what defines her. Willow stares at her in confusion.

  Her mom pushes back the covers and bounces out of bed. “I’m starving.”

  She pulls on her clothes, runs a brush quickly through her hair. “Let’s go eat, and then we should see about buying some new clothes. A replacement credit card will be arriving today.”

  She is out of the room before Willow can protest.

  A scream of frustration bubbles into Willow’s throat. Biting it back, as she usually does these days, she makes herself think of how camels can go seven days without food or water, even in the driest of climates. She can be patient too.

  But then she is hit with doubt and her mind burns with questions. Was she dreaming? And if she was, why the same dream with Cora? Why the same brick building? And what did Angeline mean when she said it was up to her mother to reveal Angeline’s secret? Does this have to do with the secret Topher has too?

  Willow finally gets out of bed and brushes her teeth. She stares at herself in the mirror and concentrates on the two most important questions right now: Is she losing her mind? Or is her mother really lying to her?

  Willow throws on her clothes and heads to the dining room, determined to grill Wisp. He will remember.

  But Wisp is nowhere to be found. Neither is her mother. Instead, at the table eating french toast are Topher’s brothers, Taddie and Joe Joe.

  Willow stops, sta
rtled.

  “Hey, Willow,” Taddie says, grinning. “Do you always sleep this late?”

  “Where’s Wisp?” Willow asks. “Where’s my mom?”

  “They just left to go see my mom,” Joe Joe says.

  “We’re here to plan Topher’s birthday,” Taddie says, his feet swinging Wisplike back and forth under the table. “You want to help, don’t you? Topher’s working at the diner this morning, so we can start decorating and he won’t even know anything about it.”

  “Help with what?” Willow asks.

  Taddie rolls his eyes, but Joe Joe elbows him in the gut.

  “Topher is going to be thirteen in two days. Remember?” Taddie says. “We’re getting his party ready. Do you want to help or not?”

  Cora comes in then, plopping down a plate. “Eat up, Willow. Your mom said you’re to go lend the boys and some of the other kids in town a hand decorating.”

  “But…,” Willow says, still baffled and bewildered. She feels like a piece of Play-Doh being poked and prodded into a shape some sculptor has predetermined.

  “Turning thirteen is a big deal in Kismet,” Cora says. “The whole town celebrates. It will be good for you to go with the boys. You can meet other kids your age.”

  Willow met plenty of kids yesterday during the hockey game. She wants to say no and go find her mother.

  But her mom would not welcome her disobeying, turning up at the hospital for a confrontation in front of Wisp’s doctor. Willow has no choice right now. She must do as her mother has asked. So she sits and eats her breakfast, and when everyone is finished, she puts on her coat and hat and mittens and boots and follows Taddie and Joe Joe out into a blindingly beautiful winter day.

  Without protest, Willow walks duckling-like after them down the road, until the boys begin to run and she sees where they are headed.

  The brick building.

  Willow follows the boys up the stairs to the mysterious building. Maybe now she will find her answers—find out why Cora and her mother left their warm beds at four o’clock in the morning, and why so many other people wander inside during the day. Willow is almost certain that the secret Topher and Angeline keep alluding to is somehow tied to this building. After all, something in here drew her mother out late last night.

  But if Willow expected a chamber of horrors or some other shocking sight, she is to be disappointed. She steps into nothing more than a boring old cavernlike town hall—just as Topher said—with marked-up walls, folding chairs, a stage, and fluorescent lights. There are about twenty kids there, hanging crepe paper and signs and setting up tables. And there are two men and a woman sawing away on fiddles, pausing a few times to discuss something and then starting again, their practice session livening up an already buzzing hive of a place.

  Willow looks around, her thoughts tumbling in confusion. There is nothing here. Nothing. Nothing at all.

  Maybe she is crazy. Why on earth would her mom leave them to come here—to this nothingness?

  Willow is one-hundred-piece puzzled. But deep in her gut, she feels she is missing something.

  Across the room, Angeline waves to Willow and walks over, her dark shadow, Grace, treading doggedly in her footsteps.

  “Hey, Willow,” Angeline says. “I knew you’d come right at this very minute.”

  Willow stares at Angeline. Once again, Angeline has suggested that she already knows what Willow will do and exactly when she will do it.

  “How?” Willow asks, realizing she sounds rude.

  “What?” Angeline asks, smiling.

  “How did you know I’d come right now?” Willow barks.

  Angeline laughs and shrugs and winks at Willow. “Guess I’m just psychic.” Then she holds up a long sheet of paper. “We were just going to hang this sign. Want to help? Grace and I can hold the ends, and you can let us know if it’s straight.”

  Willow glances distractedly at the banner and blinks at the message written there.

  HAPPY 13TH BIRTHDAY, TOPHER. WELCOME TO KISMET.

  “Welcome to Kismet?” Willow says. “But Topher already lives here.”

  Angeline smiles. “Of course he does. This would look great right here, don’t you think?”

  She holds the sign up and Grace holds the other end. Neither of them will meet Willow’s eyes.

  “I need a chair. Can you get me one?” Angeline asks.

  Though Angeline has obviously heard Willow, she doesn’t offer any explanation as to what the sign means.

  Willow shakes her head in irritation. She can’t keep being impolite, pushy with tons of questions. Still, she stands there, her anger growing. Why will no one in this town give her answers?

  She wants to know what is going on but can’t see how to figure it out when people keep ignoring her. So she does as Angeline asks and gets a chair, thinking hard as she drags it across the wooden floor and then goes to get another for Grace.

  The girls climb up and hold the sign, then look to Willow for approval, though why they care what Willow thinks is another dumb mystery.

  Willow nods that the banner is straight, and they attach it to the wall with tape.

  Not far from her, Willow sees Taddie filling a balloon with helium. Then she sees that Wisp is with him. He has come in with their mom, who is standing and talking to a lady with jet-black and slightly gray hair twisted in a long braid that hangs down her back. The woman is reed thin and dressed in hospital scrubs. Willow gazes at her curiously, realizing she must be Topher’s mother.

  She hears a giggle and looks over to where Wisp and Taddie are standing together. Wisp glances back at their mom, making sure she is not watching, and he takes a breath of the helium. When Joe Joe comes to help, Wisp says, “Hello, Joe Joe,” in a helium-induced Munchkin-like voice. Taddie collapses to the floor in a fit of laughter. Willow cannot help herself. She too laughs at Wisp’s high jinks.

  “Your brother seems to like it here just fine.”

  Willow turns. Dark-haired, scowling Grace has spoken at last.

  “Yeah,” Willow says. “He likes Topher’s brothers.”

  “What’s your problem, then?” Grace asks, her mouth twitching like the tail of an unhappy cat. “It’s obvious you want to get out of Kismet.”

  “No problem,” Willow says, surprised by Grace’s rudeness. “I’d just rather be with my own friends back in my own home.”

  Grace’s dark, shadowed eyes glint. “Well, I wish you were back there too.”

  “Grace,” Angeline snaps, coming up beside them.

  Grace jumps. And though Angeline may believe that Willow hasn’t seen, Willow has. Angeline has just given her friend a wicked pinch on the thin skin of her underarm. Now Angeline reaches out to take hold of Willow. Willow flinches. But Angeline links her arm with Willow’s anyway, as if they have been friends since kindergarten. Firmly, she pulls Willow away from Grace.

  “She doesn’t like strangers,” Angeline whispers to Willow in a conspiratorial voice once they are out of earshot. “Her family has lived here for generations. They were one of the first families of Kismet. She’s kind of prickly about new families moving in.”

  Who would move here, Willow wonders, to this middle of nowhere—to this nothingness? And why? Other than her mother’s desperate search for Wisp’s miracle cure, Willow can’t imagine a reason anyone would choose to live in this strange place.

  “Do new families move here very often?” Willow asks, pulling her arm out of pinching distance from Angeline’s pointed and painted nails now that they have made it to the far side of the room. Angeline’s creepy friendliness is freaking Willow out.

  “No, not many,” Angeline says. “But some. My parents are always telling me that there is no place on earth like it.”

  “Why?” Willow asks.

  Angeline shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never been anywhere
else.”

  Willow stares. “Never? As in, you’ve never left Kismet?”

  Angeline smiles. “No. Why would I?”

  “You’ve never gone on a vacation or played a sport at another school or driven to Portland or something?” Willow asks.

  “No,” Angeline says. “None of us have.”

  Grace comes to stand beside Angeline. “We don’t leave,” the serious, ill-tempered girl says, looking Willow full in the face, challenging, defiant.

  “Why not?” Willow asks, her voice edged with amazement.

  Anticipation shimmies down her spine. Perhaps this is the secret—the reason no one leaves Kismet. Maybe she’ll get some answers rather than feeling pulled in and then pushed away.

  But once again, the girls ignore Willow.

  Angeline says, “Layla’s here with the table decorations.”

  Willow turns to see Layla struggling into the building, holding a large box, her arms draped in navy cloth.

  “Hey, y’all.” Layla’s voice rings out in the cavelike space, soaring above the musicians, who are now tapping their feet to some Acadian rhythm. “I’ve brought the tablecloths and napkins and the name cards.” She pauses. “I could use some help.”

  The little kids run to her side, and Angeline and Grace move away. Willow is left standing alone in the middle of a half-empty hall. And it is then, in the sudden creation of space, that Willow spies it: a door, about chest-high, blended into the wall as if it were a part of the dark paneling and not an entrance to somewhere unknown.

  Willow moves hesitantly toward it, pushed back by fear but drawn forward by desire. She reaches out. There is a lock, but maybe the door is open.

  Her hand curls around the handle. Willow hears a soft click, but the door does not move.

  And then, fingers, tight as elastic, suddenly grasp her wrist.

  “Willow.”

  She turns. The colonel is gripping her arm firmly. His eyes are hard. “Topher’s mother would like to talk to you.”