The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4)

by Aasheim, April

  In truth, I didn't want to stop nursing. It was strangely enjoyable and bonding, but I wasn't about to let Michael think he could make decisions regarding my body.

  “Touché.” He stretched out his legs and wriggled his toes. He was wearing khaki slacks and black socks.

  No one in Dark Root dressed like that. Dark Root men wore jeans and lumberjack shirts. It was part of the town bylaws. Even Michael, who wasn’t a native, didn't wear khakis. Something was up. “Where did you go, Michael?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you look like a banker, not a dad out shopping for diapers and formula. Are you using my baby as chick-bait?”

  He smiled, softly slapping his knee. “Did Eve tell you that? One woman ogles me at the magick shop and I'm suddenly using our son as 'chick-bait.'”

  Eve hadn't told me, which made me angrier. I shifted position to keep from losing my cool.

  “It's a biological reaction,” he continued, strumming his hand along a khaki-enclosed thigh. “When women see a good-looking guy holding a baby, it gets their hormones going.”

  “Which is something you have no problem exploiting.”

  “Maggie Magic. My little firecracker.” He looked up towards the porch ceiling. “You haven't blown any lights out yet. I suppose that's progress.”

  “You still didn't answer my question. Where did you go?”

  “As I stated earlier, I went to get supplies. There's a great baby store in Linsburg you should check out with me sometime.” He glanced at his watch. “We may have stopped by a few other places.”

  “What places?” This time there was a noise––a sizzling sound like frying bacon. We both looked up at the light fixture, not daring to move until the sound abated. Once clear, I placed my sleeping son in his carrier near my feet, and slid over towards Michael.

  “What places?” I asked again.

  He ran his fingers through his dark wavy hair, now flecked with sprinkles of gray. “I may have taken him to a few daycares while I was out.”

  “You what?” The light bulb crackled and hissed, before turning a muddy brown.

  Michael smiled lazily. “It's summertime now, so we probably don't need to replace them every time you lose your temper. But to answer your question, we explored a few promising daycares. Ones that might offer some...” He fingered the cross on his neck. “...Spiritual growth.”

  “You're an ass.”

  “Hardly appropriate language for a mother, my dear.”

  “Why, Michael?” I stood, scraping my hands through my coarse curls. “I told you Montana cannot leave Dark Root without me. So why would you go against my wishes like that?”

  Michael stood and placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, looking me square in the eye. “Because I'm his father, Mags. And I have rights, too.”

  “The jury’s still out on that one.”

  He just smiled. I might have my flaws, but I was stupidly loyal. “Michael, I said Montana cannot leave Dark Root and I meant it. We have to be diligent.”

  Michael kneaded my shoulders as his eyes wandered towards our baby. “I try to understand your requests, I really do. But I'm having a hard time with this one. You're being an overprotective mother and it's not good for our son. He's hardly left this house since he was born.”

  I looked at Michael, not as an enemy but as an ally. “I know you don't understand and I wish I could explain, but...”

  But what? Michael knew about the curse but not about the deal between the older witches. How could I tell him that Jillian and Aunt Dora had offered possession of Montana to help save my life? Or that I hadn't dissolved the curse yet, and still had no idea where it had originated? These were my secrets. I knew they made me seem crazy and overprotective, but the fewer people who knew the truth, the better.

  “Just bear with me a little while longer,” I pleaded. I wasn't sure if my son was still in danger, but I certainly wasn’t going to take any chances. Instinct was all I had to go on, for now.

  “Alright, but if we're not careful we're going to turn our child into an agoraphobic.”

  “Someone who's afraid of socks?” I asked, staring at my child's naked toes.

  “Yes, Maggie.” Michael smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Afraid of socks––just like his mother.” He paused, intently studying me. “You going to be okay?” he asked, his eyes drifting down towards my naked ring finger.

  I curled up my hands and swallowed, shaking my head with uncertainty. I wasn't sure if I would ever be okay again. But looking at my son, I answered, “I guess I'll have to be.”

  THREE

  Happy Together

  MONTANA SLEPT BESIDE me in his bassinet while I watched old cartoons and folded his clothes. I held up a yellow onesie that read: Don't Mess With Me Or You'll Have My Crazy Aunt To Answer Too! It was hand-painted and grammatically incorrect––a gift from Ruth Anne. In just three months, he had outgrown it. I sighed wistfully and set it down.

  “Where does the time go?” I asked, out loud.

  Merry sorted through an old box of photos she found in the basement while Eve was deciding between two bras––one that pushed up and one that pushed out. Ruth Anne sat at the breakfast table, inspecting her Wings and Wrenches menu and circling the promising items with a Sharpie. None of them responded.

  “Where does the time go?” I repeated, hoping for some adult conversation. Lately, most of my chatter consisted of me gurgling at Montana and him gurgling back.

  Ruth Anne removed her glasses and set them down on the table. “I assume that's rhetorical. Although, some people say that time is relative, both constant and stationary at once, so maybe it doesn't go anywhere. Maybe it just cycles.”

  “Can't you just talk like a normal person for once?” Eve asked, sighing as she lifted a third bra––a lacy red piece that left little to the imagination. “Do you think Paul will like this one?”

  Merry glanced up, winking. “He's a man, Eve. He wouldn't mind if you skipped underwear entirely.”

  “Say...” Eve's dark eyes lit up.

  I shook my head. “Don't even think about it. I'm the only one who gets to go braless around here. One partial nudist in the house is enough.”

  Eve eyed my chest and grimaced. “Yeah, but yours are all leaky and wilty.”

  “I was going to say balloony,” Ruth Anne said, returning her glasses to her face. “But wilty works. Makes them sound like flowers.”

  “Dying flowers,” Eve agreed.

  “Gee, thanks you guys. And here I was wanting to talk to adults for a change. Ruth Anne, can I order nicer sisters from Wings and Wrenches?”

  “If the place was called Wings and Wenches, you probably could,” she answered, then went back to her circling. Soon, the entire menu was one black ink mark.

  “Maggie, I'm just trying to be honest,” Eve said. “My breasts will be wilty if I have a kid, too. Then I'll have to get another surgery to hike them back up.” She sighed, as if the weight of the world rested on her cleavage. “Just be happy you don't care what you look like. Beauty is a circle without an end.”

  “Which brings me back to my question,” I said, rolling a green baby sock inside a blue one because neither had a match. “The last three months have been a blur. A constant cycle of feeding, sleeplessness, and holding my pee until I'm about to burst. Three months have passed and I hardly remember any of it.”

  “Welcome to parenthood,” Eve said. “I don't remember much about my time with Nova either.”

  “Perhaps that's because you were only with her in Seattle a few months,” I reminded her.

  “You've only had Montana three months,” she countered.

  I groaned, stopping myself from entering a conversation that, like Eve's beauty circle, was without end.

  “Time is moving very slowly for me,” Merry said, returning a stack of photos to their box and leveraging herself from the sofa. “Maybe Ruth Anne is right. Everyone experiences time differently.” She glanced at Montana and s
miled. “I'd give anything to experience being a new parent again.” Her eyes drifted towards the front window, her mind on her daughter, June Bug, who currently resided with her father in Florida.

  “I'm sorry,” I said. “I can't imagine what it's like to be without your child.”

  “It's tough,” Eve agreed, sitting on the armrest of the couch with the red bra dangling from her hand.

  I squinted at Eve sideways but let it go.

  Merry nodded. “Tougher than anything I've ever done.”

  In that moment, I no longer saw my sisters as the kids I'd known, but as the grownups they'd become. Eve had softened and Merry had grown stronger. Did parenthood change you? Or did it merely enhance the parts needed to make it through the adventure?

  “You'll both see them soon,” I said.

  They nodded but there was doubt in their eyes. Merry excused herself to make tea.

  “Wings for dinner?” Ruth Anne suggested. Her lips were black, too, from chewing on the pen. “There are at least nine flavors I'd like to try. My treat.”

  I looked at Montana. If I ate anything remotely spicy, he had bad burps and diapers for days. “Can you order some of them without sauce?”

  “If they serve them, I'll get them.” Ruth Anne patted herself down, searching for her wallet. Unlike the rest of us, she didn't carry a purse. “Well, ladies, I'm off. I'll be home by dinner with the remnants of my carnage.”

  “Poor chickens,” Merry said, returning from the kitchen with a tray of cookies and tea.

  Ruth Anne took three cookies, jammed one in her mouth, and pocketed the others. “Better them than us,” she said, grinning with a blackened, crumb-covered mouth as she made her way to the door.

  “If you keep eating them, karma will catch you,” Merry warned. “In your next life, you may come back as a chicken.”

  “Or be born into a world where chickens eat people legs,” I added.

  “You guys really know how to suck the fun out of things,” Ruth Anne said. She pulled her short hair into a small ponytail and fastened it at the nape of her neck, then checked the wall hook for her keys. “Damn it! I swore I put them here. Eve, did you take them to screw with me?”

  “Plotting against you would mean thinking about you,” Eve said, now flipping through a celebrity magazine from the 1980s. “Which I rarely do.”

  “That would take time away from thinking of herself,” I teased.

  Eve nodded in agreement and returned to her reading.

  “Well, they're not on the hook. Did you hide my keys, Maggie?” Ruth Anne redirected her inquisition.

  “Yes, because I have so much time on my hands,” I said, starting on my second basket of laundry.

  “Hell, I don't know what you do when Howdy's sleeping.”

  “Don't call him Howdy. He's not a puppet.”

  “Sure he is. You should see how I make him dance when you're in the bathroom.”

  I glowered at my oldest sister, but she was too busy scouring the house for her missing keys to notice.

  “Let's relax a minute,” Merry said, pouring us a cup. “It's been a long day.”

  “Add brandy to the tea,” Ruth Anne hollered from halfway up the stairs. “That'll relax you!”

  Eve dropped her magazine. “Don't drink yet. I'll be right back.” She flew into the kitchen and returned with a small purple pouch. From inside, she removed a cellophane package with a handwritten label. “I found this in Mom's bureau. It's something called Enlightening Powder. I'm not sure what it does, but I bet its good. Mom always stashed the good stuff for herself.” She sniffed the packet then tapped a few bits of grainy dust into her cup.

  “None for me, thanks,” Merry said, covering her drink with her hands. “I'll watch and see what happens to you first.”

  “Maggie?” Eve asked, dangling Mother's old drug pouch like a pendulum.

  “I'm out.” I patted my bosom. “Montana's diapers are bad enough without the aid of Miss Sasha's Enlightening Powder. I don't need them glowing, too.”

  “I've seen his diapers. Glowing would be an upgrade.” Eve stirred her concoction, then tasted the brew, making a face. “I think this may be face bleach,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

  “Now you won't have to go in for those mid-week waxings,” I said.

  “At least I tried,” she said. “I just hope I don't lose my sense of adventure like you two when I become a real parent.”

  I bit into one of Merry's organic cookies. It tasted like a bark chip covered in sawdust and I quickly put it down. “Even though Nova's not biologically yours, you're still going to be her parent,” I said. “In time.”

  Eve's face fell and she stared for a hard moment into her tea. Not looking up, she said, “I'll never be her mother. Nova's made that clear.”

  I rarely felt sorry for Eve. She had been graced with both heartbreaking beauty and immeasurable audacity. But she seemed so humbled––so nearly human. “Once Paul brings Nova to Dark Root, that will change,” I assured her. “Then, you'll get your turn at sleepless nights and boo-boos that need to be kissed away.”

  She looked up, hopeful. “You think?”

  “Yes!” Merry agreed. “And June Bug will be back soon and we'll have our own mommy's club. Ruth Anne can make fun of us from the sidelines.”

  “Can do!” Ruth Anne said, jouncing down the stairs and looping back towards the kitchen. She flipped on lights, rattled pans, and returned to the living room. “It will be my honor.”

  I smiled, imagining Ruth Anne sneaking candy bars to our kids while casually informing them of the boogeymen under their beds. I saw it as clearly as if it had already happened––so clearly that, for a moment, I confused it with a memory.

  “Whoa!” I blinked and rubbed my eyes to clear the vision away.

  “Eh?” Ruth Anne asked on her return orbit around the coffee table. “Maggie, you look like you just fell down a rabbit hole. Did you drink some of that enlightening powder?”

  “No. I...”

  “You're not eating those mushrooms growing near the town square, are you?” she interrupted. “Because I think they might be hallucinogenic.”

  “I'm fine. I just had a premonition about you.”

  “Oh?” Ruth Anne straightened, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her cargo slacks, still searching for the missing keys. “In your vision, am I rich and famous? Or just blindingly beautiful?”

  “You were sneaking candy to our kids and scaring them with ghost stories.”

  Eve rolled her eyes. “That's not a premonition. That's just Ruth Anne. She did the same thing to us when we were kids. I wouldn't start charging people for tea leaf readings just yet, if I were you.”

  “Yeah, well...” As I was thinking of how to explain the clarity of my vision, I spotted a photo lying on top of the pile inside the box. It was a picture of Shane as a kid, being pulled up a grassy knoll on a plastic sled by an unknown hand. His brows were lowered and his jaw squared as he stared straight ahead. Merry caught me looking and moved to snatch the picture up, but I nabbed it first.

  I felt like someone punched me in the stomach.

  Or stabbed me in the heart.

  “Shane,” I whispered, brushing my fingers across his young face. He was an exact replica of his adult self, minus the muscles and the cowboy hat. I shook my head and laid the picture on my lap. “He's not coming back,” I said solemnly.

  I knew this. On every level I knew this. I'd even buried the damned ring.

  But seeing the photo, and viewing him, not only as the man I loved but as a life taken too early, it broke my heart all over again. How is it that someone can be with us one day and gone the next?

  “There's so much about him I never knew.” I tapped the picture. “I should have been there for this.”

  Ruth Anne stopped her search and joined me on the couch. Merry took the other side and Eve bent over my shoulder. We all stared at our friend together. “He was so cute,” I said, smiling. “You can see the determina
tion on his face. How does someone with that kind of fortitude die so young? It doesn't seem possible.”

  Ruth Anne carefully pulled the photo from my lap. “I remember this. I pulled him up Settler's Hill. See, that's my hand.”

  I scrunched my brows. “Why?” Settlers Hill was a popular sledding spot just outside of Dark Root. But there was no snow in the photo, only green grass and sunshine.

  “He asked me to. Said his mom used to take him sledding in Montana.” Ruth Anne frowned pensively. “He was missing her and I uh...” Her eyes misted behind her large glasses.

  “Why, Ruth Anne, even then you were a big softie,” Merry said.

  “Whatever. It was July, I think. Aunt Dora came along with her picnic basket and Polaroid. I pulled Shane to the top of the hill and gave him a solid push. He bumped his way down, hitting rocks and laughing all the way. As soon as he skidded to the bottom, he’d run back up and ask to do it again. We were out there all day.” She wiped her glasses and handed the photo back. “God, I miss him.”

  “Me too,” we all said together.

  I pressed the photo to my heart, nearly crying at the thought that this little boy had lost his mother and this was his way of honoring her. “Thank you,” I said, patting Ruth Anne's hand.

  “For what?”

  “For being good to him.” I leaned to the side and gave her a long hug. “Our kids are lucky to have you as an aunt. Even if you do give them too much candy and freak them out with your stories.”

  “Whatever you say, Mags. Whatever you say.”

  “I'm going to keep this,” I said. “I missed a lot of his life, but this makes me feel like I got some of it back.”

  Merry squeezed my shoulder and nodded.

  “Well,” Eve said, stretching. “Are you going to pick us up dinner, or not?”

  Ruth Anne stood and shrugged. “Yeah, but I might have to take Merry's car since I can’t find my... Hey! What's Monty doing with my keys?”

  Sure enough, my son's fist was balled up around her keychain.

  “I have no idea.” There was nothing else in his bassinet except for a blanket, a small bear, and a pillow. I hadn't given the keys to him, and I couldn't imagine the others had either. Merry would have thought them unsafe, and Eve would have thought them unsanitary.