“Ten, huh? I better make it a memorable visit then.”
“Shane?”
“Yes?”
“Is Irene taking Daniel with her?”
He blinked several times. “She’s bringing him to Dark Root. Or rather, a relative will. Not now, but eventually. We both thought it would be the safest place for him while we ride this out.”
“Are you ready to be an instant parent?”
“You were an instant parent and you seem to be doing alright.”
“You weren’t here for the flood.”
“Huh?”
“It was epic,” I grinned. “And if you need any help, I’m here. We’ll have enough kids to fill a school bus in no time.”
“Thanks, Maggie.” He looked at me skeptically, tilting his hat to the side. “That’s not the reaction I expected from you.”
I shrugged. “There’s no light bulbs out here to bust.”
“God, I love you. I’m sure you’re a great mother and I’ll take any advice I can get. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here those first few months. I can’t imagine what you went through. But I’m here now. We’ll get through everything else together, I promise.”
The sound of breaking branches alerted us to Michael’s appearance moments later. I grabbed Shane’s hat from his head, positioning it over my bare abdomen.
Michael stopped several trees away, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Sorry to interrupt. Merry took our son back to Harvest Home. He was hungry and getting a little warm. I told her I’d find you.”
“Warm?” I grabbed the rest of my clothes, dressing as fast as I could.
“I think he’ll be fine; it’s just been a long day for him.”
“Thanks for finding me.”
“Just being a good parent, Mags. You should try it.” He turned on his heels and left us.
“Your son is sick?’ Shane asked.
I nodded solemnly. “We both are. The curse––it hasn’t been broken.”
“We’ll kick its ass together,” he said resolutely.
“God, I’m glad to have you home.”
“Only death can tear us asunder,” he joked.
But there was an edge to his words that made us both nervous.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Love Child
SHANE DROVE ME back to Harvest Home in his gray Chevy truck. He didn’t mention where he picked it up, and I didn’t ask. Though the exterior was caked in mud, the interior was clean and smelled like new leather. Even so, the odometer proved it had racked up plenty of miles. As we parked, I spotted a candy bar wrapper peeping out from beneath my seat. I wondered if it belonged to Shane... or his son?
Shane gasped. He was seeing Harvest Home in its current state of decline for the first time––a veritable wasteland of parched earth, dead flowers, and bare trees.
“What the hell happened?”
I settled on the abbreviated version, skipping over the deal they’d made with Larinda. “Aunt Dora and Jillian tried to help break my curse, but ended up tapping the magick around here instead.” I pointed to the various balls and dangling shoes strewn across the windows, and to the half-buried clay vases filled with urine, nails, and hair near the porch steps.
“So they went crazy?”
“It would seem that way. Aunt Dora’s going old school, and poor Jillian’s getting thinner and grayer by the day.” I laughed, though none of it was funny.
“Actually, that’s pretty sweet,” he said.
“I suppose,” I sighed. “I hope this place recovers soon.”
“Uncle Joe taught me that magick doesn’t entirely go away. It gets converted, but it’s always there, recycling itself. Trust me, whatever they tapped will return in time.”
“That’s good, because the bed and breakfast I plan to open would only attract camels with this desert landscaping.” I winked at him. “And camels are known for being divas.”
“I made a list one night of all the things I missed about you, and your sense of humor was right near the top.”
“Near the top, as in top ten?”
He leaned across the seat and kissed the tip of my nose. “Well, there is that adorable nose, these lips, and these green eyes. I couldn’t sleep at night without thinking about those haunting eyes of yours. They almost drew me into your dreams.”
“Shane...” I licked my lips, turning so that I could fully see him. “Was that you calling me? I swore I heard your voice many times. I thought you were haunting me.”
Shane looked into his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. “I’ve been hiding out in the forest for a few weeks,” he admitted.
“What!? Why?”
“I needed to make sure I wasn’t followed. I couldn’t put you all in danger. I’m ninety-nine percent sure they don’t know I’m here.”
“Only ninety-nine percent, huh?”
He shrugged, smiling apologetically as he pulled the keys from the ignition. “I didn’t call your name. I’d never intentionally scare you like that.”
“You’ll only scare me unintentionally. Got it.” I gave him a thumbs up, though I still wondered about that voice in my head. Another mystery that may or may not be solved. I was getting used to that in Dark Root.
Our eyes turned towards the once-beautiful property, our hands hovering above the door handles like gunslingers waiting to draw.
“You ready?” I asked. “There will be questions.”
“I’m ready.”
“What will you tell everyone?”
“The bare minimum.”
“You mean you’ll lie?”
Shane rubbed his chin, drawing in his lips. “Lie is a tough word, Maggie. I’ll omit, if necessary.”
I smiled. “Morally ambiguous. I like that in a man.”
We stepped out of the truck and joined hands, marching up the porch steps and entering the house together. Michael was standing by the sofa with a remote control in his hand, clicking buttons even though the TV wasn’t on. Aunt Dora napped in her recliner, her cane draped across her knees, while Jillian lounged against the kitchen doorway, expectantly.
Everyone came alive at once, like actors waiting for their cues. Even Aunt Dora snapped awake, rattling her cane to the floor.
“Shane!” Jillian raced for him, swaddling him in her arms. Michael helped Aunt Dora from her chair and she waddled over, joining in the hug.
“‘Tis a miracle,” Aunt Dora muttered repeatedly.
Jillian stepped away, grasping the crystal stone around her neck. “It certainly is.”
Michael watched from the sidelines, his face expressionless, though his fingers whitened over the remote control. “So, you rose from the grave, did you?”
“Stop it, Michael!” I glared at him.
“I’m just making conversation, like everyone else here.”
“I know exactly what you’re doing.”
Shane hung up his hat and looked Michael in the eye. “I’m back for good, if that’s what you mean.”
“How fortunate for all of us.” Michael’s eyes ran the length of Shane’s body, stopping at his cut lip, then moving towards a grass stain on his shoulder. He took a step forward, expanding his chest like a silverback gorilla. “Must have been quite an ordeal. Judging by the look of you, you lost what, twenty pounds or so?”
Shane held his ground, widening his stance. “Ten.” He patted his slim torso. “But thanks for noticing. I can give you some diet tips, if you like.”
“The Deadbeat Diet. For cowards and crooks.”
Aunt Dora glanced nervously between the men, muttering that she should make some homecoming tea and hurried off to the kitchen.
Michael crossed his arms, tightening his jaw. “Where have you been, Shane Doler? Where in God’s name did you disappear to when the woman you profess to love needed you?”
There was an unfamiliar gleam in his eye. It wasn’t rage or anger or even a threat. But it was ominous.
“I had to take care of a personal responsibility. He glanced from me and
Jillian. “And I’m sorry for that, but I wouldn’t have left if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”
“Do you have any idea what you put this woman through?” Michael pointed at me, his lips curling with disgust. “Or do you even care?”
“Both of you, cut it out!” I ordered, stomping my foot. “This is a happy day for me, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let any male chest thumping ruin it. Got it?” I turned to each of them, meeting their eyes and staring them down.
Shane nodded.
“Yes, Maggie,” Michael lowered his eyebrows. “We should be happy, shouldn’t we? I, for one, am delighted. I’m going to check on our son now. Taking care of loved ones is what a responsible man does.”
With that, he stomped up the staircase.
“So, he’s still living here?” Shane asked.
“Yes, for now, but I can ask him to leave.”
“No. I made this mess. I’ll deal with it.”
WHEN THE HOUSE settled, Shane went to shower and Jillian summoned me into the kitchen. She and my aunt were gathered around a pot of tea, pouring the brew into cups and adding ice cubes.
“Since when do we drink cold tea?” I asked. Even in the summertime, tea was served hot in Dark Root.
“This isn’t fer ya,” Aunt Dora said, handing me the mug and a baby bottle. “Didn’t want ta say it in front o’ Shane, but yer son’s sick again.”
“He is?” I asked. “I should go check on him.”
“We’ve been keeping a close eye on him,” Jillian said. “He’s a little better now. Mostly just an upset tummy and a touch of fever. Dora made this catnip tea to help him settle.”
“Isn’t that for cats?”
“Aye,” Aunt Dora confirmed. “But good fer babies, too!”
I took the catnip tea into the nursery. Montana snoozed in a fetal position, thumb in his mouth, while Merry hovered protectively. Though the sports mobile was motionless, “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” played from its music box.
“How’s it going?” I asked my sister.
She smiled, nodding towards the mobile. “That is your son’s doing. I tried to turn it off but the song keeps playing. I think it soothes him.”
“Poor little guy,” I frowned.
I stared at the mobile for a long moment. It went silent. I grinned, but my victory was short lived. Montana opened one eye, staring at the tiny plastic baseball bat dangling above him. The toy fixture began spinning and the song resumed, even louder.
I said, wearily. “Oh Merry, how am I supposed to raise this little guy?”
“The way any parent raises a strong-willed child. You just need a stronger will.” She smiled warmly. “June Bug had a toy that played ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ so often I started having dreams that I was the bus driver! The things we put up with for kids, huh?” She stroked Montana’s cheek. “I gave him a cool sponge bath to help with the fever, then fed him cereal with crushed mint for his stomach.”
“I guess I lucked out in the big sister department. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Maggie, for bringing this little guy into our lives. It’s so nice to have a baby in the house. It gives me purpose again.”
My body responded to the sight of my son and my breasts leaked a little. I took the rocking chair and pumped what was left of my milk. It smelled sour. “Merry, I’m really worried about him.”
“Montana’s sickness might not be the curse, Maggie. It could just be teething or a summer cold. These things happen.” She shrugged, though I knew she didn’t believe it herself.
Whatever afflicted me, afflicted him.
Merry sat on the floor in front of my rocking chair, drawing her knees into her chest. “I miss June Bug being this age. Heck, I just miss June Bug.”
“Any news?”
She pursed her lips, rocking in place. “Frank called. He sounded angry but he wouldn’t say why.” She swallowed back her fear.
I put down the pump and adjusted my shirt. “It doesn’t matter if he’s angry. She’s your daughter. He’s bringing June Bug back or else!”
Merry’s eyes were less certain. “Now that you have Shane back to help you, maybe I should go to Florida and get June Bug myself.” Her jaw trembled but there was resolve in her blue eyes.
“If you go, I go” I said.
“Maggie, you couldn’t. You need to think of your family right now.”
“You are my family. I’d follow you to hell and back if needed.”
Merry sniffled, her aura flaring white. “I know. I’d do the same for you.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. “That’s why I’ve been learning karate. Silly, huh? But it makes me feel empowered.”
I felt suddenly foolish, having thought she did it to impress Michael. What was wrong with me? “It’s not silly at all. Frank doesn’t stand a chance against you.”
Merry beamed. “You are sweet.”
“Who’d have guessed?”
“Me.”
I strolled around the nursery. Montana had a full toy box, ready for the day he was old enough to play with them, and a case of books that would take years to read. I picked up a story about a talking train engine, flipped through it, and returned it to the shelf. “Michael has all of these books arranged alphabetically. I hope our son isn’t as anal retentive as he is.”
“He just likes things neat. I get that.”
“Yeah, neat and in line.” I stared into a bin labeled: cars. A dozen tiny vehicles were arranged carefully inside. There was a bin for: dogs, and another for: elephants. I threw up my hands and walked away.
Jillian entered carrying two mason jars filled with peaches. “Dinner in twenty minutes, girls. I hope you’re hungry.” Her eyes rested briefly on Montana, reading his energy. Her shoulders relaxed and I took that as a good sign.
“We’ll be down soon,” I promised. When she left, I quietly shut the door.
“Merry, do you trust Jillian?”
“Of course. I adore Jillian. So do you.”
I did, of course, but I was learning that there was far more to Jillian than any of us ever knew. “You used to spend a lot of time with Mother and Aunt Dora––did they ever mention her?”
“Hmm.” Merry pressed her finger into the divot of her chin, sorting through her memories. “I heard Mama sent her away for a while. I think it had something to do with Armand.”
“He was in love with her,” I confessed. “She was young and beautiful. I’m sure that put some sour in Mother’s pickle.”
“Mama was those things, too,” Merry said. “Minus the young... and beautiful.” She sighed. “I can see why our father would have been attracted to her. Bad boys always go after the nice girls.” She blushed and looked down at her feet.
“But Armand also had a thing for Larinda, and she wasn’t sent away.”
“It probably had something to do with the original Council splintering. From what I understand, it was all a mess.”
“Armand left too, for a while. He probably went off to make more children. I wonder how many he’s had? There is me, you, Eve, Leah...”
“All girls,” Merry noted.
“Yes, all girls.” A tingle creeped up my spine. Was it a coincidence? “All girls,” I repeated. “Interesting.”
Merry gave me a curious look but I pretended not to notice. This felt like another piece of the puzzle. I returned to the rocking chair, trying to reason it out.
Jillian told me she had a daughter. Was her daughter also Armand’s? Did they have a secret love child that only Mother knew about? If so, is that why Mother sent Jillian away?
To protect the baby from him.
Jillian mentioned to me last autumn that she was about to be a grandmother, and left to help her daughter prepare. Did her daughter have a son?
In that moment, it all made horrible sense.
Merry was suddenly beside me, touching my arm. “Need air?” she asked.
I nodded. “Please.”
She cracked the window. I breathed deeply, trying to keep the
fear from my face as one particular question nagged at me: Would she trade my son’s fate for her own grandchild’s, if she thought it would save him from Armand?
“Maggie...” Merry waved her hand in front of my eyes. “You’re not looking so good. Can I get you something?”
“I’ll be alright.”
“You’re as white as a ghost.” She looked around warily. “You didn’t see one, did you?”
“Not a literal ghost.” I ground my teeth, my mind still reeling. Finally, I decided to spill it all, including the snow globe memories of Armand’s dealings with The Dark.
Merry collapsed into a bean bag chair, putting her hands over her face. “I’ve never gotten a bad read on Jillian. Ever. God, Maggie, I hope you’re not right about this.”
“Me too. Keep this between us for now, please. I don’t want to alarm anyone, or accuse Jillian until I know more.”
“I won’t say a word. But I could really use a sip of that catnip tea.” She glanced at the bottle. “Or maybe brandy. From what I know, Armand wasn’t stupid. He could’ve figured out where Jillian’s daughter was, if he wanted to.”
I felt the sudden urge to grab my son and run far, far away. But I knew there was no escaping my father and his tunnel traveling. Dark Root was still my best option for keeping Montana safe.
“Can you read Jillian again?” I asked Merry. “Please?”
Merry nodded. She left the room and returned with Jillian’s silver hair comb. She held it between her hands and hummed a low steady wordless beat, almost a chant.
I waited anxiously. If my suspicious were correct, I wasn’t sure what I’d do.
“I’m sorry. She’s hidden her thoughts well.” She handed me the comb, and I felt nothing but calm energy. “I’ve never felt anything but love from that woman, Maggie.”
“Me either.” I put the comb in my pocket. “Thank you.”
Merry tilted her head. “Given what we know, it does seem likely that either Armand or Larinda put the curse on you. Maybe to weaken you, so you wouldn’t have the strength to protect your son?”
“Probably,” I agreed. I’d never known my father, and I likely never would. I had originally hoped the globes would reveal that he was lost, not evil, but there was no denying the evidence.
The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) Page 23
