by Dovie Ruth
Delaney wished she could slide out of the conversation. It was leading somewhere she did not want to go.
“Where were you born?” Mavis needled.
Delaney thought about lying, but stopped herself. “In a town called Roughneck,” she disclosed.
“Roughneck?” Mavis sneered. “That sure is an odd name. You still have family there?”
“Yes, my Aunt Jeannine and her daughter, Mary Carol.”
“Well, I can honestly say I have never heard of such a place.”
“I’m surprised.” Delaney smirked. She was glad Mavis could not see her snotty expression in the dark.
“Why is that?”
“Roughneck might be a desolate little burg, but it’s sitting on top of one of the world’s richest oil fields.”
Mavis slowed for a hairpin turn. “What kind of people would live there?”
“Well, for starters – oil millionaires.”
"Oh, my!"
Delaney refrained from giving Mavis a dirty look. “Of course, most of them dress just like the roustabouts or the unemployed squatters. If you weren’t a long-time resident, you would be hard pressed to tell the difference.”
“Well, that’s silly,” Mavis retorted. “If I was rolling in oil money, I would be flashing my cash.”
“Not in Roughneck."
"Why not?"
"Most of the folks there are just good salt-of-the-earth people who believe a man’s worth isn’t measured in dollar bills. They might be rich, but they don’t want to be treated any differently than anyone else. And they don’t want their children kidnapped.”
“So almost everybody there is flush with cash?”
“Not so much,” Delaney admitted. “Over half the town is unemployed.”
Mavis let out a gasp of disbelief.
"Not everyone falls on the extremes of the spectrum," Delaney assured Mavis. “Many citizens support the oil industry directly or indirectly. Oil company executives, their employees, construction workers, business professionals, doctors, nurses, and teachers – to name a few."
“To me, it sounds like a place overrun with uncultured, ignorant people.”
“Only if they want to be,” Delaney countered. She was annoyed by her mentor’s own ignorance. “There’s something that happens when a town is surrounded by high-producing oil wells. Their schools are flooded with tax dollars. The schools in Roughneck rival many of California’s private academies.”
Mavis clucked her tongue like a sassy chicken. “That’s a lot of diversity in one little town.”
“Perhaps it is a town of paupers, queens, and kings,” Delaney mused. “But in many ways, there’s a common thread that runs through all of them.”
Mavis snorted. “I don’t see how that could be.”
“Oh, it’s true,” Delaney countered. “I can’t tell you how many people I have known who came to Roughneck because they wanted to escape their past. Some have family troubles. Some are just plain down on their luck. Others have made bad choices, and they hope no one notices the ghosts that tag along behind them.”
“Or they’re avoiding the long arm of the law?”
“That, too.”
“I assumed as much.”
“I guess a town way off the grid like Roughneck gives them a place to start over.” Delaney leaned back in her seat and folded her hands. “But I can tell you one thing for certain. No one wakes up some random morning, looks at a map, and willingly makes plans to move to Roughneck. It just doesn’t happen.”
CHAPTER SIX
Delaney smiled with bliss as she watched the matronly church lady scoop vanilla ice cream into a bowl for her.
“This is Delaney Fox!” Mavis seemed to beam with pride. “She’s come to study creative writing with me.”
“Pleased to meet you, Delaney. I’m Jewel.” The middle-aged woman wiped her soft hands on her ruffled apron. Then she extended a welcoming hand to Delaney.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“Have you come from far away to study with Mavis?”
“Oh, no – just Visalia.”
Jewel offered Delaney a white plastic spoon. “Did you have a nice trip?”
“Fortunately, the incredible views make up for all the curves in the road.”
"That's right," Jewel reflected, "Mavis lives a far piece up Mineral King Road."
Mavis tapped Delaney on the shoulder. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” She flashed the keys to her Land Cruiser. “Before I forget, I need to fetch a box of donations I brought for the ladies’ charity project. Nice sweaters and jackets.” She bent over and whispered in Delaney’s ear. “Not to brag or anything.” Then with a swoosh of her cape, the show-off was gone.
Delaney was a taken aback by her teacher’s sudden disappearance. For a split second, her breath caught in her tense chest. Delaney’s anxiety reared its frightening head in the unfamiliar surroundings.
“Strawberries, Delaney?” Jewel was still holding Delaney’s bowl.
“Oh, yes!”
“When is your baby due, honey?” Jewel’s amber eyes softened, perhaps with the memories of her own pregnancies.
“In about four months.” Delaney brushed her tummy with her manicured hands. “I can’t believe I’m over halfway there. This will be my last trip away from home before I have my son.”
“A small vacation in Three Rivers will be good for both you and your baby.” Jewel leaned in closer to her new acquaintance. Her gray curls almost touched Delaney’s cheek. “And I think you will be a good influence on Mavis, too.”
Delaney backed away from the woman and her gossip. She picked up Mavis's bowl of ice cream with her free hand and found a table for the two of them. When Mavis returned from her errand, Delaney smiled and vowed to enjoy the ice cream and the evening.
The ice cream social had ended rather amicably, and it was time to return to The Tilted Plume.
The storm had blown into Three Rivers while Mavis and Delaney were inside the church. “This is a much bigger storm than I thought." Mavis said as she grabbed onto Delaney.
Delaney winced as they slogged through a dark puddle on their way across the dark church parking lot.
“Well. I’m glad I brought an umbrella.” Mavis shook the bumbershoot. "I can hear thunder in the distance.”
“And lightning.” Delaney caught a momentary flicker in her peripheral vision. It illuminated the sky and backlit the distant treeline on the horizon.
A strong wind whipped at the pair as they walked. Mavis clung tightly to her flapping cape. The rain-drenched Land Cruiser soon became a welcome shelter.
“That ice cream social lasted longer than I thought,” Mavis remarked. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Nine o’clock. We probably should have left earlier, but you did seem to be having a good time. Now the sky is as black as ink.”
Delaney buckled her seat belt and prepared herself mentally for the ride.
From the church, Highway 198 carved a serpentine path to the base of Mineral King Road. Delaney was anxious to get to the convenience store, but Mavis had a more important mission. “There’s a bank up ahead with a walk-up ATM.”
Delaney knew what that meant. She fished in her wallet for her ATM card and prayed there was a shelter to stand beneath. Wearing wet clothing all the way back to the cabin sounded miserable. As they rolled along, Delaney wracked her brain. She still couldn’t recall anything about a cash-only policy on Miss Beasom’s brochure. Regrettably, she had left the document at home.
The Land Cruiser’s brakes squealed as Mavis stopped at the curb in front of the closed bank. From all appearances, there was no one around – inside or out. “Let me walk you up there,” Mavis insisted as she opened her umbrella. She pulled Delaney close to her as they sloshed toward the ATM. When they reached the well-lit machine, Delaney stepped sideways. With a careful show of nonchalance, she freed herself from her persistent escort.
“No, my dear. You must stay under the umbrella.”
Del
aney felt uncomfortable with Mavis standing so close while she withdrew the cash. She did her best to mask her fingers with her other hand while she typed in her PIN number.
Mavis stooped to look at the screen.
“As I suspected, it looks like I can only withdraw 200 dollars at a time.” Delaney glanced at her escort’s face. “I hope that will be enough for now.”
“That’s fine.” Miss Beasom reached for the bills before Delaney had a chance to count them. “We’d better get going now. The wind is picking up.”
The two walked in tandem under the umbrella. Mavis helped Delaney into the passenger seat and closed the door.
Delaney eagerly awaited their arrival at the convenience store. “I hope Chad answers his phone this time,” she chattered, mostly for Mavis’s benefit. It was Delaney’s polite way of reminding her quirky chauffeur that there was one more important stop to make. She also wanted Mavis to know that she was not alone in the world.
“This rain is awful,” Mavis hissed.
The windshield wipers were doing only a cursory job. The relentless rain pummeled the window’s surface.
Delaney squinted through the darkness, looking for the mini-mart’s sign. “There it is,” she said, pointing toward a lighted beacon. In the black storm, the metal support post was invisible. The result was a landmark that appeared to be spinning in thin air.
“Well, I’ll be darned!” Mavis snickered as she steered past the dark store. “Looks like they are closed up tighter than a politician’s briefcase.”
Delaney gasped as Mavis turned off the highway and gunned her vehicle up the first sharp grade of Mineral King Road. “Aren’t we going to stop?”
“Oh, you need to stop worrying so much,” Mavis chided. “Your husband knows you’re fine, and you have everything you need up at the cabin.”
Delaney cursed herself for giving her power away to the daunting woman at the steering wheel. Defeated, she sat in silence for the remainder of the trip.
Just after the marker that designated the seventh mile on Mineral King Road, Mavis turned right and drove through the open cattle gate. “If it weren’t raining so hard, Delaney, I would ask you to get out and lock the gate.”
“Do you usually keep it locked?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mavis affirmed, “but I doubt anyone is going to wander onto the property and bother us tonight. It’s just too wet and dreary.”
Chills ran down the back of Delaney’s neck. What if a stranger did come in off the road and trudge up the driveway to the isolated cabin?
CHAPTER SEVEN
The travelers returned to a house that was as frigid as its mistress’s blood.
“I rarely turn on the central heating,” Mavis remarked without a hint of an apology. “There is a wall heater in your bedroom in case you get cold.”
Delaney’s eyes followed Mavis as she retired to the master bedroom. She left her door slightly ajar. When Delaney heard the shower running in the master bath, she thought of wandering into her teacher’s bedroom and looking around. It wasn’t that she wanted to snoop through Mavis’s personal space. She just wanted to correct a mistake. There was no doubt in her mind that she should have never offered her witch story to Miss Beasom for a critique.
Then again, how was Delaney supposed to know that Mavis was a genuine witch? Whether the strange mentor was a good witch or a bad witch, Delaney did not know.
Delaney was no stranger to the occult. Her first cousin Mary Carol in Roughneck was downright scary in her ability to read tarot cards. Mary Carol’s mother, Jeannine, was primarily responsible for her daughter’s talents.
Jeannine entertained a regular stream of psychics and soothsayers in her home on a fairly regular basis. All of them were local folks. Considering that Roughneck was just a tiny dot in the desert, an inordinate number of citizens were dabblers in the crafts. Even the plumber offered natal chart readings on the side.
Delaney toyed with the probability of finding her envelope on top of Miss Beasom’s dresser. If she was quick, perhaps she could switch it out for a banal children’s story. So what if Mavis didn’t know a darn thing about kids. Delaney just wanted to spend the remainder of her time at the cabin without any open discussion of witches. Mostly, she didn't want to go without decent food and access to a phone.
Delaney stared at Miss Beasom’s bedroom door. She wondered if it would squeak if she pushed it open a little further. Perhaps it was worth a try …
Delaney removed her shoes and stepped toward the master bedroom door. With trembling fingers, she pushed the wooden portal open a few more inches. From her limited vantage point, she could see little in the dim room. She started to push the door open a few more inches when she heard the shower stop. Startled, she stepped back and pulled the door back to its original place. Before she could completely flee the area, she heard Mavis’s bedroom phone ring.
Mavis had heard it, too. She wasted no time in bolting out of the master bathroom. “Well, hello there, Conin!” she greeted in a cheery voice. “Yes, I have Delaney Fox here!”
Delaney was puzzled. Mavis had announced her name like she was a movie star. Obviously, Delaney had been the topic of their previous conversations. How could her presence be that important?
Mavis continued. “Yes, I will be bringing Delaney with me to the spring festival tomorrow night.”
Delaney shuddered. Spring festival? Yes, the following day was the spring equinox – a day of celebration for most pagans. During the course of her written correspondence with Mavis, she had agreed to attend the spring festival. But after spending less than a day with the sorceress, Delaney had changed her mind. She was dead certain she didn’t want to go anywhere with the strange woman. And she certainly didn’t want to meet Conin.
“Goodbye! Goodbye!” Mavis called out to her friend on the telephone. “We’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Trying to walk without making a single sound, Delaney eased toward her rented bedroom. Surely, Mavis wouldn’t poke her head outside her own bedroom door if she were buck naked. But, then again, she might.
Delaney breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Mavis go back into the master bathroom. The hostess pulled her bedroom door shut behind her and turned the shower back on.
Frightened, Delaney retreated into her own guest bathroom. Since there was no lock on the door, Delaney was afraid to shower. Instead, she took a sponge bath and brushed her teeth. She resigned herself to being smelly until she could find a way out of The Tilted Plume. She had made up her mind to leave the retreat early. The next day, as a matter of fact.
Although it was March, the high mountain air was a few notches past cold at night. Delaney’s flannel pajamas did very little to insulate her from the chill. Her nose and cheeks stung as if they were dusted with frost. While she tried to sleep in the uncomfortable room, her mind began to ponder all she had seen that day. She wondered if Miss Beasom was pinching pennies because she was short on money. Or maybe she was just a classic skinflint.
Delaney studied the wall heater in her room. Running the heater would add to Miss Beasom’s electric bill, so she hesitated to turn it on. Then Delaney reminded herself that she was the one paying the bill. She had every right to be warm while she slept.
With reluctance, Delaney lifted her covers and flicked the heater switch on. The contraption responded with a roar that was loud enough to vibrate the windows. On the plus side, it did put out heat — but at an annoying price. There would be no chance of sleeping with the shrill squeaking of the lopsided internal fan.
Delaney fished into her manuscript satchel for a notebook and pen. She paused a few moments to take a close look at the electric typewriter on the desk. In her excitement that afternoon, she had neglected to see that the typewriter was a dinosaur. The cord to the electric outlet behind the desk was frayed and was missing its plug. What a fine writers’ retreat this is turning out to be, Delaney grumbled to herself.
She jumped when she heard a soft knock at her door.
“Goodnight, Delaney! I’ll see you in the morning.”
Delaney decided that no good would come from complaining about the typewriter at that hour of the night. She vowed to hold her tongue and keep her thoughts to herself. “Goodnight, Mavis! Sleep tight.” Delaney stood frozen until she heard Ms. Beasom close her bedroom door. Frustrated with her lack of progress on her manuscript, Delaney frowned at her room. What had seemed to be a cozy nest in the light of day had turned into a cold, broken cell. The wall heater continued to whir like an off-kilter helicopter. Her stomach growled along with the buzz. She reached into her satchel and took out another protein bar. After she had devoured that one, there was only one more left.
“Sorry about this, Samuel,” she apologized to her tiny son. “If I hadn’t been so adventurous and just stayed home, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Delaney smoothed the covers on her twin bed and turned off the wall heater. There was no way she was going to be able to sleep with all that vibration from the fan.
Delaney checked the lock on the French doors and found it to be secure. There was no lock on the hall door.
“Lights out,” Delaney whispered as she flipped the switch, then climbed into bed. Exhausted, she burrowed beneath the bed clothes and lapsed into a fitful sleep. Images and voices from her long day swirled inside her head …
“Delaney Fox is here!”
Roads dipped and swerved, winds swept across the tops of the oaks. Thunder rolled, and lightning winked ominously from behind the mountains.
“Delaney Fox is here!”
“When is your baby due, honey?”
“Delaney Fox is here!”
“I’m bringing Delaney to the spring festival.”
“Delaney Fox is here!”
A circle of black hooded figures surrounded Delaney.
“When is your baby due?”
Mavis floated over the supine Delaney, levitating over her bed. She reached her hand toward her frightened student, grasping the thin air with her papery white hands …
“When is your baby due?”
Mavis pressed her outstretched hand firmly between Delaney’s breasts …
