“Kenneth owns the construction company,” I continued. “That makes him one of the construction workers.”
“I’m not talking about the construction,” my mom said through gritted teeth. “I’m talking about your Aunt Tillie’s date with Kenneth.”
“It wasn’t a date,” Aunt Tillie exploded. “And you have a big mouth,” she swung on me. “I told you to keep it to yourself.”
“That was before Kenneth showed up to woo you in front of everyone,” I teased. “I figured that was essentially letting the cat out of the bag.”
“I never got that expression,” Twila mused dreamily from her spot in the middle of the table. “What does that even mean? Letting the cat of the bag? Why would you have a cat in a bag?”
“I want to get back to the guy that steals everything in town but no one seems to care,” Sam interrupted pointedly. “That sounds like a pretty interesting story.”
“It’s not,” I said angrily. “If you write something about Rob then everyone in town is going to be totally pissed off.”
“Is it the job of a newspaper to placate the populace?” Sam turned to Brian curiously.
Brian looked uncomfortable with the sudden attention. “I have to agree with Bay on this one. I’ve seen Rob stealing stuff all over town – including that tarp they use to cover the gazebo. Everyone just pretty much ignores him – and they still love him. If we go after him, we would lose advertisers.”
“I don’t understand,” Sam challenged. “You’re saying that you’re ignoring stories on purpose?”
“Not all stories,” Brian said. “Just stories that are going to anger people.”
“So that’s the basis for news now? Fluff?” Sam’s knuckles had turned white he was clenching his flatware so hard.
“Simmer down, son,” Chief Terry ordered. “You’re freaking out about nothing. Rob isn’t a danger to anyone but himself. There are other things that are a lot more important going on in this town and Rob and his sticky fingers.”
“Like what?” Dean asked curiously.
“Oh, um, just stuff,” Chief Terry said evasively, exchanging a wary look with me and then turning back to his dinner. “This dinner is marvelous ladies. Well done.”
“How is your dinner?” Kenneth asked Aunt Tillie saucily. “It looks good. You make it look good.”
Aunt Tillie glared at me. “This is your fault.”
“I’m not the one befuddling Kenneth’s mind with love thoughts,” I teased her. There was mirth in my voice, but I kept an eye on Sam as he continued to fume at the other end of the table.
“This whole town is crazy,” Sam said. “You’re all so secretive. You try to hide things,” he turned to me pointedly. “You should all know you’re not fooling anyone. I know that you’re all keeping secrets.”
“What are we trying to fool people about?” Marnie glanced at Sam dubiously.
Sam looked surprised when Marnie pointed the question at him. “I didn’t mean . . . I didn’t say . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Then maybe you should shut up and eat your dinner,” my mom suggested coldly. She had no idea what was going on, but I could tell she didn’t like the way Sam was looking at me. Quite frankly, I didn’t like it either.
“I think we should all shut up and eat our dinner,” Chief Terry agreed. “It’s a great dinner and we’re ruining it with all this chatter.”
“Totally,” Dean agreed, shoveling another forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. I think he was just enjoying the dinner theater – like most people did. He obviously wasn’t picking up on the hostile overtones everyone else at the table was casting about.
“It’s like all the women in this family have a magical way with food,” Kenneth said, winking at Aunt Tillie. “I bet you taught them everything they know.”
“Of course I did,” Aunt Tillie said. “Not that they listen to my wisdom most of the time.”
“You did not,” my mom argued. “You never cooked. Our mom taught us how to cook.”
“And where is she?” Kenneth asked curiously. “I bet she’s just as pretty as Tillie here.”
“Not even close,” Aunt Tillie harrumphed. “Everyone knows I’m the beauty in the family.”
My mom rolled her eyes. Since she was the one that looked like my grandmother, I had a feeling she took offense to the statement. “My mom died years ago,” she explained to Kenneth. “And she was the beauty of the family.”
“You’re just saying that because you look like her,” Marnie said. “I agree with Aunt Tillie.”
“Of course you do,” Twila said. “You look like her.”
“Who do you look like?” Dean turned to Twila.
“I look like our Aunt Laverne,” Twila said. “She was the real beauty in the family. She was also the best cook.”
“Everyone is beautiful in this family,” Kenneth said, trying to head off the argument and appease Aunt Tillie.
“Eat your food, Kenneth,” Aunt Tillie ordered. “Shut your mouth and eat your food.”
“Your wish is my command.”
I raised my eyebrows as I glanced between Aunt Tillie and Kenneth. This just kept getting more and more interesting. One glance at my mom told me she was thinking the same thing.
“Kenneth, what happened to your wife?” My mom asked suddenly.
“She died of a heart attack almost twenty years ago,” Kenneth said, his voice lowering a notch.
“I’m sorry,” my mom said. “You must have loved her a lot.”
“I did,” Kenneth agreed. “I will always love her. That doesn’t mean I can’t find something to love in someone else, though.”
Aunt Tillie looked uncomfortable and pleased at the same time. When she caught a glimpse of my smirk she returned the expression with a glower of her own. “Eat your dinner,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” I pursed my lips to keep from laughing out loud. “Your wish is my command.”
Thistle snorted into her green beans appreciatively.
“Stop it,” she ordered.
“Stop what?” I asked innocently.
“Whatever it is you’re doing,” Aunt Tillie said.
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Okay.”
“Stop it!”
Thirty-Four
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Clove said defiantly.
We were back at the guesthouse and getting dressed for our evening excursion. Like with all of the rest of our late-night adventures, we decided to dress completely in black – including a hat to cover my blonde hair.
“You always think it’s a bad idea and yet you always go,” Thistle said. “Why is that?”
“I blame you,” Clove said pointedly.
“You always do,” Thistle replied cheekily.
“Can we get back to the point where this is a bad idea?”
“No,” Thistle shook her head. “We’re not looking at it as if it’s a bad idea. We’re looking at it as if we’re trying to save kids. Remember that.”
Clove sighed. Even she couldn’t argue with Thistle’s rationalization. “Fine,” she said. “When this goes wrong, though – and it always goes wrong when we do crap like this – I’m going to bring it up for years to come.”
“You always do.”
“That is, if we don’t die,” Clove continued.
“We’re not going to die,” I scoffed. I was seventy-five percent sure I was telling the truth.
“We’re not going to die,” Thistle agreed. “And we actually could save lives.”
“Fine,” Clove said. “I said I was going and I’m going. Let’s get this over with.”
Thistle smiled like she always did when she managed to bully Clove. I think that’s what keeps her skin looking so young. Meanness cleans your pores, I guess.
We took Thistle’s car out to the Dandridge – mostly because it was dark and it wouldn’t stand out in the i
nky black of night as easily. “Should we park on the access road or in the parking lot and hike in?” Thistle asked.
“Access road,” Clove piped up immediately. Hiking through the dark wasn’t exactly high on her list of things she wanted to do. I wasn’t as sure, though.
Thistle glanced at me. “What do you think?”
“Parking lot,” I said finally. “The car will stand out more if we abandon it on the side of the road at night.”
“Plus, if someone’s out there, they’ve probably parked there, too,” Thistle said knowingly. “This way, we can sneak up on the property easier. I agree. Parking lot it is.”
“Why does my vote never count?” Clove pouted.
“It counts,” Thistle countered. “You just got out-voted.”
“So, it didn’t count,” Clove said.
“Do you ever stop whining?” Thistle complained.
I ignored both of them as we parked and exited the vehicle. Thistle popped the trunk and rummaged around for a few seconds, coming out with two flashlights. “You came prepared?”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well,” I hedged. “Usually we just figure things out on the fly.”
“That’s why I put the flashlights in the trunk,” Thistle said grimly. ”I figured we would need them sooner or later and – look – I was right.”
I took one of the flashlights and Thistle kept the other. Clove followed close at our heels as we started to move up the trail. “How come you two get to hold the flashlights?” Clove complained.
“The two people at the front get the flashlights,” Thistle shot back. “Do you want to be in front?”
“No,” Clove said hurriedly. “You can keep the flashlights.”
“That’s what I thought,” Thistle said knowingly.
It took us about fifteen minutes to hike to the Dandridge. When I saw the silhouette rear up in the night sky, I clicked the flashlight off instinctively. Thistle followed suit almost immediately.
“What are you doing?” Clove hissed.
“Shhh,” Thistle admonished her. “Just listen for a second.”
We all stood in silence for a few moments, soaking in the night air. I could hear a few birds nestling and – far off – the sound of the waves rolling in behind the lighthouse. I couldn’t hear anything else, though.
“I don’t think anyone else is out here,” Thistle said finally.
“That’s good, right?” Clove asked nervously.
“I don’t know,” Thistle shrugged. “I guess it’s just easier. I don’t really think Dean would care if we’re out here – but explaining to him what we were doing would be . . . complicated.”
“Where do you want to do the spell?” I asked.
Thistle moved farther into the clearing surrounding the Dandridge and considered my question. “I think the dock is the easiest place.”
I followed her gaze, the moonlight illuminating the aged wooden structure and the dark expanse of water beyond it. “That’s as good of a place as any,” I agreed. “Plus, it’s out in the open.”
“Which makes us easier to see,” Thistle reminded me.
“It makes the boat easier to see, too,” I countered.
“True,” Thistle agreed. “Let’s go.”
We picked our way to the dock, being careful to avoid any errant rocks that might cause us to trip, and then filed down to the square end at the edge of the water. “It’s a beautiful night,” I breathed in the spring air appreciatively.
“At least it’s not raining,” Thistle agreed, pulling three candles out of the bag she had brought and placing them in a triangle on the dock.
Clove helped her light them and then turned to me expectantly. “Let’s get this over with. I want to go home.”
We stood in a circle, joined hands, and closed our eyes. The spell we had written earlier in the day required different threads of power. We had all agreed who would handle each thread earlier in the day. Hopefully, if this worked, we would be able to call the boat to us – or at least create a trail to follow to find the boat. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure how it would work. It was really just a hope and a prayer at this point.
We started to chant as one.
In this here, the darkening hour, we call upon the ancient power.
Help us find a ship in the night. Give us power. Help us fight.
There are young souls in need. Direct our power so they don’t bleed.
We join together now, clasped hands, earnest hearts.
We ask for aid.
Answer us now.
Give us the knowledge we seek so we can help the meek.
We glanced among ourselves curiously. Nothing appeared to be happening. For a second, it looked like the energy had convalesced, but instead of shooting out over the water it simply rose above us and dispersed.
“Did you ever think,” Thistle started tiredly. “That we’re the worst rhymers ever?”
“It’s not as easy as it should be,” I agreed.
“Our moms are much better at it,” Clove agreed. “And even Aunt Tillie. We just suck at it.”
“Don’t ever tell her that,” Thistle said hurriedly. “Her head will just get bigger.”
“She’s a little distracted right now,” I said, still scanning the area randomly, hoping for some sign that our spell – however weak – had worked. “Didn’t you notice that she and Kenneth left the inn together after dinner?”
“Snuck out would be more apt,” Thistle countered. Her head was jerking from left to right as she searched the horizon, too. She didn’t look like she was having any luck either. “I think they were going on a moonlit walk.”
“I like him,” Clove said decisively. “I think he could be good for her.”
“He could be good for us, too,” Thistle said. “If she’s fixated on him she can’t get distracted by us.”
She had a point.
“I don’t think it worked,” I said finally.
“We could try it again,” Thistle suggested.
“If it didn’t work the first time it’s not going to work the second time,” I sighed dejectedly.
“Well, let’s just look around,” Thistle said. “Just to make sure.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “We’ll have to split up.”
“Split up?” Clove’s voice rose an octave. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“The quicker we look around the quicker we can go home,” Thistle said sagely. “I would think that would appeal to you.”
“Fine,” Clove grumbled. “But I’m not going alone. We only have two flashlights.”
“You can go with Thistle,” I interjected quickly.
Thistle glared at me. “Or she could go with you.”
“I think you two make a better team,” I argued. “I’m the oldest, so I should be the one to go alone. You know, more knowledge and all.”
“Oh, so now you’re fighting about who gets stuck with me? I hate you both.”
“You’ll live,” Thistle said. “You can come with me,” she sighed finally. “We have less knowledge, after all.”
I moved off the dock to the left, exchanging one last look with Thistle as she and Clove moved off to the right. I slipped into the woods, clicking the flashlight back on as I did.
The terrain was rough, so I moved slowly. Even though the foliage had died over the winter, it was quickly regrouping and would be out of control within a few weeks. My foot snagged in the root of a nearby tree causing me to stumble – but not lose my footing completely. I bent over with the flashlight to make sure that I wasn’t going to fall when I pulled it out. When I straightened back up, I gasped as Erika flashed into view.
“Turn off the light.”
“What?”
“Turn it off.”
I did as I was told, even though I wasn’t sure why. There was an urgency to her voice that I couldn’t deny. Once the light was gone, I was plunged into darkness because of the heavy canopy over my head. I couldn’t see Erika.
I couldn’t see anything.
“You found the boat,” Erika said. “I knew you would.”
“Where is it?” I kept my voice low.
“It’s over there.”
“Over where?” I strained my neck, but all I could see was black.
“Over there.” I got the distinct impression that Erika was pointing – but it’s not like I could see the gesture.
“I can’t see without the light,” I said finally.
“If you turn the light on, the people on the boat will see you.”
“I still don’t understand,” I said finally. “Where is the boat?”
I was surprised when I felt a flutter by my hand. It was like a wave of cold washed over me. “I will lead you,” Erika said. “You’re going to have to trust me.”
I didn’t have a lot of options – so I did just that. I cast one last glance over my shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Clove and Thistle. They weren’t there, though, so I let the flutter tug me farther into the woods and towards a boat I wasn’t even sure really existed.
Thirty-Five
“I don’t understand what I’m looking at,” I whispered.
My visual field was still encumbered by the dark, but it was now also enhanced with some weird squares of light that I couldn’t quite define.
I realized rather suddenly that that my voice had taken on a tinny tone – and that the sounds of a forest at night had been replaced by a hollow echo. “Are we in a cave?”
“Yes,” Erika whispered. “It’s a really big cave.”
“I don’t understand,” I started and then paused to listen again. “I still hear the water. Is the boat in a cave?”
“It’s a really big cave,” Erika repeated. “Maybe it’s not a cave, maybe it’s more like a hole in the rocks.”
“What rocks?” I was so confused.
“The rocks on the wall of the water,” Erika replied simply.
I searched my memory. A cliff, I realized. She was talking about a cliff. “Is there an inlet into the cliff?”
“What’s an inlet?” Erika asked.
This was getting us nowhere. “What are those lights?” I asked finally.
4 Witching On A Star Page 24
