“Hi, Marnie,” Winnie said, her voice bright. “How are things?”
“They’re fine,” I lied. “How are things with you? Are you learning much at the conference?”
“I am,” Winnie confirmed. “I have a lot of great stuff to show you. I’m anxious to get home, though. I miss Bay, and I’m excited about the solstice celebration. How are the preparations going?”
“They’re on schedule,” I said, opting to omit the speed bumps. “Twila is making bread right now, and I’m about to tackle the desserts. Aunt Tillie is running around in camouflage, and the girls are on the back patio.” None of that was a lie.
“That’s good,” Winnie said. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Darn her. She has an innate instinct for knowing when I’m lying. I think it’s what happens when you’re the oldest. Bay can do it with Clove and Thistle, too. It’s beyond frustrating. “I’m telling you everything,” I said, earning a smirk from Twila. “Why do you naturally assume I’m keeping something from you?”
“You sound as if you’re on edge.”
“Well, I’m not,” I said. “Things are going well. The girls and I cleaned up the clearing yesterday. We have everything stacked for the bonfire. The ritual supplies were delivered this afternoon, and I locked them in the linen closet to make sure no one gets their hands on them to pinch anything. Everything is under control.”
“Are you worried about Aunt Tillie or the girls stealing from the ritual supplies?” Winnie asked.
“Actually both.”
“I don’t blame you,” Winnie said. “Good move on locking that stuff up. I’ll be home in time to help with the final preparations. Tell Bay I love her and to be good.”
“I will.”
After disconnecting, I had trouble lifting my head to meet Twila’s gaze. When I finally did, her shoulders shook with silent laughter, and I knew I would never live this down. “I didn’t technically lie.”
“Yes, you did,” Twila said, giggling. “You didn’t mention the ghost. You didn’t mention the drinking. You didn’t mention Terry being here for the drinking. All of that would give Winnie an aneurysm.”
“Well, I happen to love my sister,” I replied primly. “I don’t want to give her an aneurysm.” The occasional migraine might be fun, though. “I don’t want to upset her.”
“It’ll be fine, Marnie,” Twila said. “You worry too much about this stuff. It always works out.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I countered. “You’re the youngest. No one ever puts you in charge.”
“And rightly so,” Aunt Tillie said, appearing in the doorway. “If we put Twila in charge it would be absolute chaos. Now, don’t get me wrong, I happen to love a little chaos. Twila’s kind of chaos is not my kind of chaos, though.”
“Thank you for that illuminating take on our current plight,” I said. “What are you doing up here, by the way? I thought you would be brewing wine for the solstice celebration all day.”
“I’m done with that,” Aunt Tillie said. “I finished up yesterday. Even with the three bottles your children stole, we have more than enough.”
Aunt Tillie’s anger runs deep, but she must be really ticked off if she’s taken to calling the girls “your children.” She doesn’t take credit for them at home, but in public she’s full of pride. It’s one of my favorite things about her. She can say whatever she wants about any of us, but if anyone else dares utter words tearing us down, she’ll bring down a wrath fearful to behold.
“I think you should forgive them,” Twila said, dropping a loaf of bread in a pan and placing a towel over it so it could rise. “They were just … testing out their boundaries. You should like that. You spend days on end testing your boundaries.”
“Life has consequences, dear niece,” Aunt Tillie replied. “Bay, Clove and Thistle are about to find out what those consequences are.”
My heart painfully rolled. “What did you do?”
“What makes you think I did anything?” Aunt Tillie asked, feigning innocence. “I’ve been in here with you.”
“Yes, but you were downstairs by yourself for hours,” I shot back. “You just said you were done with your wine, so that means … holy crapsticks!” I left my cookie ingredients sitting in the bowl and hurried to the rear door. At first I was relieved when I saw the girls standing there. Then I noticed something odd about the way they waved their hands and talked excitedly to one another. “Oh, I’m going to hate this. I just know it.”
I threw open the door and stepped outside, inhaling deeply and tilting my head to the side so I could listen to the Winchester teenagers and their inane chatter.
“This is so awesome,” Clove enthused. “I feel like I’m floating.”
“It’s trippy,” Thistle agreed, holding her hand in front of her face, almost as if trying to look through it. “I think this could be the best day ever.”
“I just love you guys so much,” Bay gushed, her blue eyes sparkling. “You’re my favorite people in the world.”
“No, I love you so much,” Clove said, throwing her arms around Bay’s neck. “You’re the best cousin ever.” If I wasn’t mistaken, she slurred her words a little bit there.
“Nobody loves me,” Thistle lamented. “No one wants to hug me.”
“We love you,” Clove said, holding out her arm and pulling Thistle in for a three-way hug. “We all love each other so very much.”
“Oh, man,” I muttered, turning when I heard laughter and finding Aunt Tillie videotaping the girls with her small handheld camera. “What did you do to them?”
“I like them,” Twila said, watching from the open door. “They’re so sweet and nice. It makes me think someone replaced our children with pod people, but I still like them.”
“Do you know what we should do?” Thistle asked, breaking the hug first. “We should go down to the lake and go skinny-dipping. I heard Aunt Tillie talking about it yesterday, and it sounded fun.”
“That’s a great idea,” Bay said, her blond head bobbing. “We can swim and swim and swim. I love swimming. Swimming is awesome. Swimming is … what were we talking about?”
“Okay,” Clove said, taking me by surprise. She was usually the last to agree to something like this. “Do you think someone will think my boobs are a flotation device?”
Why do they always listen to conversations they shouldn’t?
“Only if we’re lucky,” Bay said.
“They’re drunk,” I said, shaking my head. “Or maybe high. Or maybe even a mixture of both. How … why … what … when … I don’t understand.” So many thoughts raced through my mind I couldn’t grasp one and hold onto it.
“Hey, they wanted to be drunk,” Aunt Tillie said, grinning when she saw the girls turn their backs and skip toward the woods. The lake was a good five-mile walk. There was no way I would allow that. “I only gave them what they asked for.”
“Why are you taping it?”
“The Internet is full of fun videos,” Aunt Tillie replied. “There’s a site called YouTube. It launched a few months ago. I’m going to post it there.”
“Yeah, that will pretty much kill them,” Twila said. “I want a copy of that video to hold over Thistle’s head, by the way. She’ll do anything to keep that under wraps.”
“This doesn’t bother you?” I was incredulous.
“Should it?” Twila asked. “They’re not doing anything harmful. They’re being sweet and nice to each other. Quite frankly, they’re enjoying the best part of being drunk. I’m not sure how much of a deterrence this will be.”
Holy crapsticks! She was right. There is no way this was Aunt Tillie’s intended punishment. I narrowed my eyes as I turned, extending a finger when I realized Aunt Tillie was trying to slink away unnoticed. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I have an appointment,” Aunt Tillie said. “I can’t be late. It’s rude to be late.”
“This isn’t the whole curse, is it?” I pressed. “They’re happy drunk
s now. They’re going to turn into whining and crying messes at some point. That’s going to be their payback.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Aunt Tillie lied. “I really have to get to my appointment.”
“Where is your appointment?” I asked.
“The lake.”
I scowled. “You’re going to go down there to tape them being idiots some more, aren’t you?”
“I can’t look a gift curse in the mouth,” Aunt Tillie answered. “It will be fun. Trust me.”
“They’re drunk,” I said, practically screeching. “They can’t swim when they’re drunk. They might drown.”
“Oh, that’s an old wives tale,” Aunt Tillie said, waving off my concern. “They’ll be perfectly fine. I’ll be there to save them if something happens. I’ll also have so much footage I’ll be able to hold it over their heads for years.” She kicked her heels together. “This is so much fun.”
“This isn’t happening,” I said, reaching for her camera. “You’re going to put a stop to this right now. If you want to curse them with something else, well, go nuts. This one could go very wrong.”
“Oh, it’s designed to go wrong,” Aunt Tillie said, skirting my outstretched hand. “Now, get out of my way. I have teenage girls to embarrass. By the way, when the sobbing starts in about two hours, I’m going to tape them for exactly five minutes, and then they’ll be your problem.”
“Aunt Tillie!”
Six
“Get in the house.”
I shoved Thistle – probably harder than necessary – as I tried to force her through the front door of the bed and breakfast. She had half her shirt on and was thankfully wearing a tank top underneath. I managed to catch the girls before they got more than a quarter mile from the house. Getting them home proved problematic, to say the least. Bay and Clove were already inside, watching the spectacle from the living room with wide eyes. Thistle took more … wrangling.
“You get in the house,” Thistle shot back.
“I will, right after you get in the house,” I said.
“I don’t want to get in the house.”
“Thistle, don’t make me wrestle you in this house,” I hissed. “I will hurt you if I have to.”
“You’d better be careful,” Bay intoned. “She’ll smother you with her boobs if you’re not.”
That did it. “You’re all grounded for the rest of your lives!” I bellowed.
“Yeah, that will happen,” Twila said dryly, walking into the room. “How are my drunk girls?”
“I’m happy,” Clove announced, throwing herself over the end of the couch and falling on her back. “I’m really happy. I … .” She lost her train of thought and stared at her feet. “Have you ever noticed I have tiny feet? They’re like little kid feet. I bet I could wear little kid shoes if I want. I like the ones that light up.”
“That’s good, Clove,” I said, my temper ready to explode. “You sit there and stare at your feet. At least that way I know you’re out of trouble.”
“Okay,” Clove said, happily wriggling her feet. She seemed to have absolutely no inclination to do anything else.
“Thistle, I will beat you to within an inch of your life if you don’t move through that door,” I seethed. It was an empty threat. I’d never done more than grab a handful of hair when the girls misbehaved. Aunt Tillie chased them with the flyswatter on occasion, but once they got fast enough to outrun her they turned it into a game. I was ready to hurt someone, though. Thistle seemed the obvious choice. “I will beat you! I swear to the Goddess I will!”
“What’s going on?”
I froze when I heard the masculine voice behind me, swiveling to find Terry watching me from the front porch. I struggled to keep an arm around Thistle’s waist, but she evaded me and made a break for it.
Terry nonchalantly snagged the back of her neck before she could bolt over the porch railing. “Where are you going, missy?”
“I’m going skinny-dipping at the lake,” Thistle replied. “I need to do it now before I forget.”
“She sounds drunk,” Terry said, easily holding Thistle in place as he glanced around the room. “She can’t possibly be drunk, can she?”
“That’s a really hard question to answer,” I hedged.
“Really hard,” Twila echoed.
“It’s not so hard,” Aunt Tillie said, breezing into the room, camera in hand. “They’re soused.”
“Son of a … .” Terry gritted his teeth as he shoved Thistle into the house and slammed the door shut behind him. His chest heaved as he considered how to handle the situation. “What is the matter with you?”
Bay’s lower lip began quivering at the vocal explosion, and while I knew some of the emotion was from the spell as it started to go bad, part of it was also because she was close to Terry and she hated when he yelled. “Are you disappointed in us?”
“You have no idea,” Terry bellowed, planting his hands on his hips and shooting a dark look in Thistle’s direction when she moved toward the door again. “I will handcuff you to the stair railing if you’re not careful, Thistle.”
Thistle stuck out her tongue and blew a loud raspberry. “You suck! You’re a loser! Did I mention you suck?”
I was aghast. The girls were raised to treat Terry with the utmost respect, and not only because he was in law enforcement. He went out of his way for them on numerous occasions. Crapsticks! How would I explain this?
“Where did they get the alcohol?” Terry asked, ignoring Thistle’s outburst. “Why didn’t you lock it up last night? How irresponsible are you people?”
“Hey!” I extended a finger, the overwhelming anger coursing through me taking me by surprise. “We didn’t leave alcohol out. They’re not drunk like that.”
“How many other ways are there to get drunk?” Terry asked, flummoxed. “Wait … you’re not saying they’re on drugs, are you? If that’s what you’re saying, it’s time for tough love. I’m dragging them all down to the station and booking them.”
“Yay!” Aunt Tillie clapped her hands. “Can I ride with you and tape them for their perp walks?”
“Don’t you dare,” I screeched. “This is your fault. They were perfectly fine – heck, they were behaving themselves – until you got involved.”
“How is this Aunt Tillie’s fault?” Terry asked. “I would really like to know.”
“Well … .” I broke off, biting my lower lip. Explaining what Aunt Tillie did posed a conundrum.
“I don’t want you to be disappointed in me,” Bay wailed, bursting into tears and curling into a ball on one of the chairs. “I’m so sad.”
“Bay’s sad,” Clove said, still happily wriggling her feet. “It’s probably because she has huge feet and can’t wear shoes with lights.”
I rolled my eyes. Annoying as she was, Clove was the least of my worries right now. Thistle was intent on getting out of the house, and Bay was a sobbing mess. “They’re not on drugs. In this instance, they didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not starting to get loud,” Twila said, absentmindedly patting Bay’s head. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Terry isn’t disappointed in you. This will all be over soon.”
“What will be over?” Terry asked.
I shifted my eyes to Aunt Tillie. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?”
Aunt Tillie shrugged, unperturbed. She honestly didn’t care whether I told Terry the truth. “I’m not telling him anything,” she said. “In fact, I think I’m hungry. I’m going to make a sandwich and watch my stories.”
“No, you are not!” I grabbed her arm. “You need to remove this curse, and you need to do it right now.”
“Oh, crud,” Terry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why can’t you people be normal? You know I don’t want to hear about this stuff. I like pretending it isn’t happening. Is that what’s going on here? Are they under a spell?”
I nodded. “Aunt Tillie thought it would be funny to giv
e them a taste of their own medicine,” I explained. “She made them drunk without having to drink.”
“They were really happy when it first started,” Twila supplied. “Clove still seems happy. Thistle is … Thistle. Bay, though, she’s getting the bad part of the spell early. I’m not sure why.”
“It’s because Terry yelled at her,” I said. “She can’t take it when he’s angry with her, so it tipped her over the edge early.”
“I don’t understand,” Terry said. “Why is Bay upset and the other two aren’t?”
“The spell was designed to make them drunk and lower their inhibitions,” I explained. “That’s why they want to go skinny-dipping. Aunt Tillie has been taping them so she can hold the footage over their heads for years to come.”
“I’m going to upload it to YouTube,” Aunt Tillie said. “It’s this thing on the Internet where you can put embarrassing videos. Not porn, though. I checked. It was a little disappointing.”
“I know what it is,” Terry snapped. “What’s the deal with the spell going wrong?”
“Well, as I’m sure you know, many people are happy when drunk,” I replied. “A lot of people cry when they’re drunk, though. That’s what will happen to all of them eventually. They’ll be wailing and crying messes.”
“Like Bay,” Terry prodded.
I nodded.
“I’m a bad person,” Bay said, her face streaked with tears as she finally lifted it. “I’m a terrible person.”
“No, you’re not,” Terry said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t understand what was going on. You’re a good person. It’s your aunt who is evil.” He scorched Aunt Tillie with a look. “You’ve had your fun. Lift the spell.”
“Um … no,” Aunt Tillie said, shaking her head. “This is too delightful to give up.”
“You’re the only one having fun,” I charged.
“I can live with that,” Aunt Tillie said. “Did I mention I’m hungry? Who wants to make me a sandwich?”
“No one is making you a sandwich, you old bat,” Thistle said, screwing her face into a nasty snarl. “Make your own sandwich!”
A Solstice Celebration: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short Page 5
