wicked witches 08.6 - a witch in time

by Amanda M. Lee

“Bay, I know this is hard for you to understand, but I don’t want to wake up,” Aunt Tillie said, frowning as a sobbing Mom, Marnie and Twila walked to the front row of chairs and sat. They flanked the younger Aunt Tillie, all grasping hands, and openly wept. I couldn’t remember ever seeing Aunt Tillie cry. “I want to be here.”

  “Why do you want to be here?” Landon asked, his hand at my waist. “And why did you dump us in a coffin this time? That was freaky and uncalled for.”

  “It was kind of weird,” I said. “It was a softer landing than the ground.”

  “It’s going to give me nightmares, Bay,” Landon argued.

  “I thought it was funny,” Aunt Tillie said, smiling despite the somber situation at the front of the room. “Look how young everyone looks. I still look good, don’t get me wrong, but I looked great back then. Don’t you think?”

  “You look lovely,” Landon deadpanned. “You look like your heart is so broken that you’re never going to be able to pick up the pieces. This is my least favorite memory yet. I like the fun ones. Focus on those.”

  “You said it yourself, Landon,” Aunt Tillie replied. “You can’t have happiness without sadness. If you want to see the entire journey, you have to live through all of it.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?” I asked. “Are we on a journey with you?”

  “I’m not sure why you’re here, Bay,” Aunt Tillie said, pressing her hand to her heart when Twila started wailing in Marnie’s arms. “Those girls loved their uncle so much.”

  “They still do,” I said, tears threatening to overflow again.

  “Oh, Bay, do not cry,” Landon hissed.

  I risked a glance in his direction and found his eyes glassy. “Hey! You don’t want me to cry because you’re afraid you’ll cry. It’s not because you don’t want me to go through pain. You don’t want to cry in front of me.”

  “Fine,” Landon said, resigned. “This is really sad.” He surreptitiously wiped a tear from his eye. “I don’t like this. I like watching everyone fight. That thing you did with Twila and the bra? Now that was funny.”

  Aunt Tillie smirked. “The girl took forever to learn boundaries.”

  “She doesn’t have boundaries,” I argued. “She still doesn’t wear a bra.”

  “Yes, well … you win some, you lose some,” Aunt Tillie said, shrugging.

  “You said you don’t know why I’m here,” I prodded, waiting until Aunt Tillie shifted her eyes to mine to continue. “I don’t think that’s true. I think part of you brought me here because you knew you would need me.”

  “I think you’re flattering yourself,” Aunt Tillie replied, rolling her eyes. “Everything I need is here.”

  “Uncle Calvin is already gone, though,” I reminded her.

  “It’s my mind, Bay,” Aunt Tillie said. “I can come and go as I please. I can move forward. I can move backward. Time has no meaning here.”

  “So why are we seeing this?” Landon asked. “If that’s true, why would you possibly want to see this?”

  “To remind myself of what I lost,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I’ve known great love in my life. I’ve known great loss, too. It wasn’t always fun and games.”

  “I knew that in my head,” I said. “Seeing it is … different. I knew Mom, Marnie, Twila and you missed Grandma Ginger, but I didn’t have memories or time to form an attachment. She was never real to me.”

  “And yet part of her is inside of you,” Aunt Tillie said. “Now you know.”

  “Are you trying to teach me something?” I asked, a worrisome idea niggling the back of my mind. “Is this about me or you?”

  Aunt Tillie winked. “Haven’t you learned yet? Everything is about me.”

  She said the words, but I wasn’t sure I believed her. “Let’s go home, Aunt Tillie. Mom is worried sick about you. I’m sure Twila will wear a bra if you open your eyes.”

  “I’m not ready,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “Will you ever be ready?” Landon asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

  AUNT TILLIE spent the duration of the funeral moving up and down the aisles, occasionally stopping to drop a gossipy tidbit on Landon and me. They were delightful and totally appropriate for the occasion.

  “That’s Tammy Kirkus,” Aunt Tillie said, pointing toward a woman in the back row. “She’s having sex with the minister. That’s why she’s here. She didn’t even know Calvin. She only wants an excuse to stop by the funeral parlor. They’re going to sneak away and have sex once the service is over. What a stupid hag.”

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

  “Shouldn’t you be listening to the service?” Landon asked, his arm locked around my waist. He wasn’t taking chances despite Calvin’s words in the previous memory. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

  “I’ve heard the words a thousand times,” Aunt Tillie replied. “They’re depressing. The minister is going to talk about Calvin serving some greater purpose with his death. It ticks me off.”

  I could see that. “Is Tammy Kirkus at least wearing a bra?” I asked, going for levity. Aunt Tillie seemed to need it.

  “Probably not,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I’ll find out, though.”

  “Wait!” I grabbed her arm. “No one has looked at us in this memory. I assume that means they can’t see us. Why can we talk to people in some memories and not in others?”

  “Think of it as a game,” Aunt Tillie answered. “Some games are interactive. Some aren’t. You don’t need to be interactive in this one. You only need to watch.” She tried to pull her arm away, but I refused to release her.

  “What do you want me to see?”

  “I can’t tell you everything, Bay,” Aunt Tillie replied, finally wrenching her arm away. “You need to figure out the bigger picture on your own. Now, I’m going to see if I can get a closer look at Margaret Struman’s purse. I’m pretty sure she has porn in there.”

  I shook my head as Aunt Tillie scampered off. If I didn’t know her better, I’d think she was enjoying herself. Given what I knew, though, I recognized it as an act. She was desperate to survive this memory.

  “I’m starting to think Aunt Tillie isn’t controlling which memories we’re visiting,” I said. “She doesn’t want to be here any more than we do.”

  “She said she dropped us in the casket as a joke,” Landon argued.

  “I know she did. It’s just … she’s putting on a show for our benefit. She doesn’t want us to see her crumble. She wouldn’t have picked this memory to revisit if she was in control.”

  “If she’s not in control, who is?”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple,” I replied. “I think Aunt Tillie is calling the shots subconsciously. That Aunt Tillie – the one running around – is along for the ride.”

  “Okay, let me try to wrap my head around this,” Landon intoned. “Aunt Tillie is calling the shots, but you’re saying the crazy woman going through everyone’s purses isn’t Aunt Tillie. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

  “I think Aunt Tillie’s unconscious mind is forcing her to relive this.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, frowning when younger Tillie got to her feet and trudged toward Calvin’s open casket to drop a rose inside.

  “Why was Ginger was cremated and Calvin is in a coffin?” Landon asked. “Shouldn’t they have the same type of funeral?”

  “Uncle Calvin was Catholic,” I said. “Aunt Tillie still complains about his funeral. She would’ve given him a Wiccan ceremony if she had her druthers. She respected his wishes, though, and these were his wishes.”

  “And he’s in the cemetery while Ginger’s ashes were scattered on the bluff, right?”

  I nodded. “That’s where he came to me a few times.” Even though no one could see us, my voice was barely a whisper. I was so accustomed to keeping my witchy gift of seeing ghosts under wraps I couldn’t help myself.

  “Did you see him?”

&n
bsp; I shook my head. “I only heard him,” I answered. “He always seemed to know when Aunt Tillie was upset … or about to get in big trouble … and that’s when he came to me.”

  “When was the last time?”

  “I was a teenager.”

  “Maybe he came when you were younger because you didn’t know how to figure out when Aunt Tillie needed help back then,” Landon suggested. “Now you know how to read her better.”

  “Do I? I’m pretty sure I have no idea what she’s doing right now.”

  “She’s checking to see if that lady is wearing a bra,” Landon said, chuckling. “She’s a trip.”

  I turned my attention back to younger Tillie, who stood motionless in front of the casket. She placed her hand on the top of it and her knees buckled. Mom and Marnie must have sensed it was about to happen, because they were there to catch her. I could hear the sobs from here.

  I turned and pressed my face into Landon’s chest, letting him hug me as the tears fell.

  “Don’t cry,” Landon said, his voice cracking. “Please.”

  “Don’t ever die on me,” I said, refusing to wipe my eyes. “I couldn’t stand it if you did.”

  “Well, that goes double for me,” Landon said. “Cripes. Just … oh, whatever. I’m going to cry, too.”

  “Ugh. If you two are done blubbering like babies, we’re about to leave,” Aunt Tillie said, popping up next to us. “I think you’ll like the next one better. Well, maybe. It might gross you out a little bit. That means I’ll love it.”

  I frowned. “Are you controlling where we’re going? I don’t think you really are.”

  “Oh, Bay,” Aunt Tillie sighed, shaking her head. “Haven’t you learned yet? I control everything.”

  * * *

  I will set this town on fire before I let anyone touch a member of my family. Well, except for my sister Willa. If you want to track her down and run her over, more power to you. That would definitely be protecting the populace. Everyone else is under my protection, though. That means you’re taking your fate in your hands right now. Do you feel lucky? On a side note, I have this ticket I need fixed. If you could handle that before I set you on fire, that would be great.

  – Aunt Tillie when the state police showed up to question Thistle about a stolen car

  Ten

  O ur landing was softer … well, kind of … this go around. Landon grunted as we hit the couch cushions and my chin bounced against his shoulder.

  “Ow!”

  “Are you okay?” Landon asked, grabbing my face. “What hurts?”

  “Everything hurts,” I replied, rubbing my cheek. “I bit my tongue a little. It’s okay.”

  “Let me see it.”

  “You want to see my tongue?”

  “Yes.”

  I stuck my tongue out and couldn’t help but laugh when Landon covered my mouth with his and gave me a kiss. I was still chuckling when he pulled away.

  “Better?” Landon asked.

  “I guess.”

  “When are we now?” Landon asked, glancing around. “This looks like … .”

  “Yay!” I clapped my hands and climbed off Landon’s lap, glancing around the old living room of the updated Victorian my mother and aunts owned before opening the bed and breakfast that would eventually become The Overlook. “Finally something I remember.”

  Landon snorted. “Does that mean little you will be here?”

  Huh. I hadn’t considered that. “I hope not,” I replied. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to watch myself when I was a kid. That might be … .”

  “Cute?” Landon supplied.

  “Or embarrassing.”

  “I’m looking forward to both,” Landon said, looking around the room. “This looks mildly familiar. I know the inn was built on top of the old bed and breakfast, but how much of the old building did they keep?”

  “They kept a lot of it and expanded the main floor in almost every direction,” I answered.

  “When was that?”

  “It started my senior year of college.”

  “And that’s when they rebranded Walkerville to Hemlock Cove?” Landon asked. He seemed genuinely curious.

  “The timeline is a little fuzzy,” I admitted. “Remember, I didn’t come right home after college. I went to the city for a few years.”

  “I know,” Landon said, his eyes somber as they locked with mine. “Do you regret that?”

  “I regret upsetting my mom,” I answered. “I think being away for those few years was good for me. It allowed me to find myself.”

  “I didn’t know you were ever lost.”

  “I was definitely lost,” I said, momentarily letting the melancholy overtake me before shaking myself back to reality. “Anyway, this is where we lived the entire time I was a kid. Well, kind of. This is the Victorian. It doesn’t look like they’ve added the smaller expansion that turned it into a bed and breakfast.”

  “When did they do that?”

  “I think I was about twelve or thirteen.”

  “So what did they do here?” Landon asked, glancing around. He strode over to the table and picked up a framed photograph. “Huh.”

  “Huh what?”

  “This is a photograph of Aunt Tillie with your mom and aunts.”

  “Why is that something to ‘huh’ about?” I asked.

  “Because Jack, Warren and Teddy are in the photograph, too,” Landon replied. “I’m guessing that means everyone is still together. Once the marriages broke up, I’m sure Aunt Tillie emptied the house of all reminders of them.”

  “You’ve got that right,” I said. “I guess that means I’m pretty young.”

  “Great,” Landon said, returning the frame to its spot. “Where would you be?”

  He was pretty upbeat for a guy locked in someone else’s mind. “Why are you so excited to see me as a kid?”

  “Because I want to see you,” Landon replied, not missing a beat. “You hide most of your photos from when you were a kid because you think I’ll laugh at them – which I won’t – and I want to see how cute you are.”

  “You know it’s gross if you hit on me now, right?”

  “Don’t be sick,” Landon said. “I want to see you. I’ve been patiently waiting for this part of memory lane. Bring it on. I mean … wait … bring you on? That’s not right. Let me see young Bay.”

  “For some reason I’m really worried about how this is going to go,” I said, moving toward the kitchen. “I’m probably outside. We had a sandbox, and Aunt Tillie would put us in it for hours while she plotted against the neighbors.”

  “I can’t picture you in a sandbox,” Landon said, moving to my side. “Were you cute?”

  “I’m going to let you decide for yourself,” I answered. “As for the sandbox, well, we loved that thing. How do you think we got so good at making everyone eat dirt?”

  “I thought it was an inherited gift,” Landon said, grinning as he grabbed my hand. “Take me to your miniature leader.”

  “That’s creepy,” I muttered, pushing open the door to the kitchen and smiling when I saw the cake and pies on the counter. “Oh, this smells good.”

  “Does it ever,” Landon said, releasing my hand so he could grab a knife from the block on the counter. “Let’s eat cake before we see young you. I’m starving.”

  “Do you think we can eat cake in someone else’s memory?”

  Landon shrugged. “There’s no harm in trying,” he said. He moved to cut into the cake but I realized what it was before he could finish his task and grabbed his hand, jerking it back before he marred the frosting. “What? I’m hungry. You know how I feel about cake.”

  “You love it almost as much as me,” I replied automatically.

  “Well, not that much,” Landon clarified. “Now, if it was a cake made out of bacon, that would be another story. Do you think they have bacon? We could cook some up.”

  “Landon … .”

  Landon either missed or chose to ignore my tone. “Fin
d a frying pan, sweetie. I’ll make us some BLTs.”

  “Landon.”

  He opened the refrigerator without glancing in my direction. “Where would they keep the bacon?”

  “Landon.”

  “I need bread, too, Bay,” Landon said. “Find some bread.”

  In general, I find his love for all things bacon adorable. This time I wanted to choke him. “Landon!”

  Landon jolted, finally shifting his attention to me. “What?”

  “Did you read the cake before you almost cut into it?” I asked.

  Landon shook his head. “Cake is cake. Why?”

  “Come and read it,” I prodded.

  Landon groaned. “Why can’t you leave me to my bacon, woman?” He muttered to himself as he moved to my side and studied the cake. “Welcome to the world, baby girl.” He read the words on the cake out loud. “What does that mean?”

  “There’s a stork, Landon,” I snapped, pointing at the bird carrying a baby on the corner of the cake. “There’s a crib. There’s stuffed animals.”

  “Okay,” Landon said, dragging the word out as he tried to grasp what I was saying. “Oh. Oh!”

  “That’s right,” I hissed. “This cake is to welcome a baby. Do you know what that means?”

  “It’s either Clove, Thistle or you,” Landon supplied. He didn’t appear nearly as worked up as I felt.

  “It’s me,” I said. “There are photographs of this cake in my baby book. This is my cake.”

  “Too bad you were too little to taste it,” Landon said. “It looks good.”

  “Landon!” I smacked his arm. He clearly needed me to spell things out for him. “Somewhere in this house I’m being born.”

  Landon was blasé before I said the words. As realization dawned on him, though, his face drained of color. “Oh … no.”

  “Yes,” I said, digging my fingernails into his forearm. “We have to get out of here.”

  “No, you don’t,” Aunt Tillie said, popping into view on the other side of the room.

  “How did you do that?” I asked, glancing around. It was my Aunt Tillie – er, at least the one trapped in here with us. I was sure of that. “Can you just manifest wherever you want?”