Popcorn Thief

by Cutter, Leah

  Julie looked at him. “The shocks aren’t great, I’m afraid. You’re going to feel every bump, aren’t you?”

  “It’ll be all right,” Franklin assured her.

  Julie started the car. It gave a deep rumble. “Whatcha got in there?” Franklin asked.

  “V-8,” Julie said with a grin. “My dad’s a mechanic. Taught me all about cars. He took out the puny two-point-oh and put in a powerhouse.” She spun gravel under her tires as they climbed out of the driveway and up to the street.

  “How many speeding tickets you got?” Franklin teased.

  “Too many to count,” Julie admitted. “Most of the time I just tell ’em I’m a nurse and I got an emergency to get to.”

  “Smart,” Franklin said. “So how’d you end up doing that? Nursing?”

  “Dad wanted me to be a doctor,” Julie said. “Pushed me hard. I just don’t want that kind of responsibility, you know? I’d rather be the power behind the throne, the one who actually does the work, rather than the king.”

  “I have a cousin who wanted to be an EMT. She’s been changing my bandages for me, on my back. Doing a real good job, too,” Franklin said.

  Julie laughed and shook her head. “I’d thought about that too—but I’m not that much of an adrenaline junkie. Rather get my kicks speeding down the road, you know?”

  Franklin didn’t—he didn’t want to admit to her that he didn’t have a car. The silence grew between them for a few moments—not quite uncomfortable but getting there—before Franklin asked, “Did you grow up around here?”

  “Close enough. I grew up in Hendrickson.”

  “Never heard of it,” Franklin admitted.

  “It’s a wide spot in the road,” Julie said. “Nothing much there but farms, cattle, and a few shops. There was no way I was staying. How about you?”

  “Born and raised here,” Franklin told her. “But mostly it was Mama and me. Papa died when I was two. That’s when Mama bought the house, with the insurance money.” Franklin had used most of her life insurance money to pay off the rest of the mortgage, so he was free and clear—only had to pay taxes on it.

  “Lexine was your cousin, right?” Julie asked.

  “Mama’s sister, Aunt Jasmine’s kid. By marriage. But that didn’t matter, not really. We were all one family, all of us raised together. Darryl and May and Jason and Lexine—they was really like brothers and sisters to me.”

  “What’s your favorite memory of Lexine?” Julie asked quietly.

  Franklin thought for a moment. He couldn’t talk about the spirits Lexine showed him. He’d never forget the one time in the spring when Wolf River had been flooding, and she’d shown him the raging spirit of the water. There were other memories, though, that he had. That were special. “Alpine strawberries grew wild in the fields near her place. You ever have those?”

  Julie shook her head.

  “They’re about the size of a pine nut,” Franklin said. “And about that shape, too. But they’re sweeter than all get out. And they right near explode with flavor. Like the perfect strawberry.” He smiled at the memory. “Lexine brought a handful of those over one night, along with some lemonade blueberries, the ones that are pale pink?”

  “Never had those either,” Julie said.

  “So Lexine brought over a just a handful. I made fun of them, I’ll admit. They was so tiny! But she served them up with some flavored ice. We sat out back, overlooking the fields, and just talked while the stars came out.” It really was one of his nicer memories, both of them talking about the future, where they’d be in a few years.

  “That’s lovely,” Julie said. “I’ll always remember the night Lexine taught me how to make a proper smudging stick.”

  “A what?” Franklin asked.

  “When you want to purify a place, you burn a smudge stick, wave the sacred smoke into the corners and call the gods to sanctify the area,” Julie said seriously.

  “What gods?” Franklin asked, wary. What had Lexine been getting into with this group?

  “Like Bridget, the goddess of hospitality, and Eleanor, the goddess of health. So your house or your room or your sanctuary will be welcoming and open to the right spirits,” Julie said seriously.

  “Huh,” Franklin said. “Do you often work with spirits?” he asked, since Julie seemed to believe in them, at any rate.

  “I’m not as sensitive as Lexine was,” Julie admitted. “She always knew where the soul of a place was, or what it was feeling.”

  “That was her gift,” Franklin said.

  Julie threw him a quick smile. “Yes, yes it was. She said you weren’t bad at it, either.”

  “Spirits was more Lexine’s area, not mine,” Franklin said cautiously.

  They sped through the dark in silence for a bit before Julie asked, “So what is your area? If spirits were Lexine’s?”

  “You know. This and that,” Franklin said, not feeling like he could answer.

  “There are folks in town who say you speak to ghosts,” Julie said quietly.

  “Maybe,” Franklin admitted. “Maybe not. I ain’t been seeing many recently. Not since I got hurt.” He didn’t want to tell her about the creature, or how it had affected him.

  “That makes sense,” Julie said seriously. “It wasn’t just your body that was hurt, but your heart, too. The thing that attacked you was trying to suck out your soul.”

  “Well, it didn’t succeed,” Franklin told her. He’d see his ghosts again, help them pass along. He’d get back to doing his duty.

  He’d see Mama at least one more time.

  * * *

  The meeting that night was held in a converted shack in the backyard of another member’s house—Eddie, as she introduced herself, an older white woman with tanned, leathery skin, wild white curls, and blue eyes.

  “Delighted to meet you,” Eddie said as she greeted them at the gate to the yard. “Y’all can just go on back. The space’s already been sanctified, blessed by the spirits and the gods.”

  “Blessed be,” Julie said in reply.

  “Ah, thanks,” Franklin said. He really didn’t know what this group was all about. He wasn’t ever going to tell Preacher Sinclair about them.

  The shack wasn’t too big, smaller than a one-car garage. It had the look of an artist’s studio, like something Adrianna would pester Ray into building, with red-painted wooden shingles covering the outer walls, white trim, and a gray tiled roof. Sweet incense oozed from it, floating over the wet grass. A large sun, plain-looking, made out of baked reddish pottery, hung on one side of the door, while a matching moon hung on the other side. Pretty white Christmas-tree lights outlined the doorframe.

  Dark black curtains covered the door. Julie reached beyond Franklin and held them to one side, gesturing for him to go in first.

  Franklin reminded himself that Lexine had trusted this group. He took a deep breath of the clean night air, ducked his head, and walked in.

  Inside were almost a dozen men and women, all crowded around the edges of the room. Work benches lined two of the walls, and under the smell of the incense came the metallic scent of shellac and paint. A round table covered with an off-white tablecloth stood in the center of the room. Incense smoked from a flat, black-metal plate. Four white crystals, each the size of Franklin’s fist, were spread out like a new-age cross on one side.

  In the center of the table lay a knife. The blade wasn’t flat, but made up of three points, more like a pick. The handle was black, wrapped in leather, and the iron looked cold and hard. It gave Franklin the willies. There was something to that blade, something not of this world.

  Something not entirely good.

  What the hell was this group?

  Julie came to stand next to him. She introduced him around the room as Lexine’s cousin, but Franklin couldn’t hold onto any of their names. Finally, Eddie came in, trailing behind one more man. “Let’s all get together, one big circle,” Eddie directed.

  Franklin shuffled to the side. Julie too
k one hand, and the woman next to him took the other.

  Eddie cleared her throat, then began to speak. It wasn’t quite singing, but it wasn’t quite speaking either. Franklin liked the way she spoke, and wanted to just go on listening to her. She was better than Preacher Sinclair, that was for sure. Her voice was welcoming and warm.

  “Oh Goddess Mother

  May your gaze be kind

  And your heart open

  To those gathered here

  Bring them into your arms

  Let them know your blessings

  Comfort them

  And help them to see you and your works

  Every day

  We stand in the circle of your light

  We bring our open hearts to you

  We release our suffering from clenched fists

  We share the joy with one another that comes from living every day

  Welcome us, O Goddess Mother

  As we welcome each other

  Blessed be.”

  Everyone in the circle responded with, “Blessed be.”

  Franklin didn’t understand why he felt calmer. But everything settled down inside of him, like there had been something buzzing along his skin that had quieted.

  Was Eddie gifted? Was she special, like him and Lexine?

  “We’re here to celebrate the life of our sister, Lexine, as well as to mourn her passing,” Eddie continued. She led them in another prayer, where she called out a line, and they all repeated it. Franklin followed along as best he could, though he felt strange calling on goddesses and gods whose names he didn’t recognize.

  But he could tell that these people had their hearts in the right place. They all mourned Lexine. Franklin’s chest felt weighted with grief. He was gonna miss her, how she’d teased him, as well as how she’d shared her spirits with him. She was the only one who’d really understood.

  “Though our hearts are full of sorrow, we need to fill them with love,” Eddie stated.

  Here we go. Franklin didn’t roll his eyes, but Eddie was starting to sound like Preacher Sinclair.

  “We need to forgive,” Eddie intoned. “Both ourselves for our failings, as well as those who have wronged us.

  Forgive? Franklin nearly snorted. Not likely. He needed to kill that thing that had killed her, before it got to him and his cousin and the people he cared about. He didn’t care about the sheriff and his ideas of Earl Jackson killing Lexine. It had been that spirit.

  “Forgive,” Eddie said again. “And let the blessings flow instead.”

  Franklin felt like Eddie was talking straight to him. How could he forgive? That thing wasn’t even human. He didn’t blame that Earl Jackson for Lexine’s death, no, it was that creature. He knew it. It hated all those that were special, every person who brought light into the world and…

  “Let go of hate,” Eddie said. “Let go of the pettiness of hate. Let go of the pain and the fear.”

  Franklin paused. Hate was useful, right? His hate wasn’t like the creature’s. Not at all. He shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. When he looked over at Eddie, he saw her swirling in light. It reminded him of Lexine’s spirits: Franklin couldn’t always tell what he was looking at, could just feel, sometimes, what they’d been. Like the soul of that old mill, or the spirits in the trees.

  With Eddie, Franklin couldn’t tell what she was, or was supposed to be. He just saw her in the light.

  However, Eddie didn’t see the lights around her. She moved one way, while they moved another. It was like they tried to push on her, but she didn’t feel them.

  Franklin realized that if Eddie had been following them, she’d have that same grace that Darryl had had. If only she’d open her eyes and see.

  But why couldn’t she see? Maybe it was all the goddess worship. Franklin knew his gift came from God. Or maybe she’d just refused her gift, not wanting to deal with all her friends and relatives thinking she was crazy.

  “Let’s pray for healing,” Eddie finally said.

  Everyone dropped hands and folded their arms over their chests. Franklin did the same, feeling foolish. They chanted something low and smooth, syllables Franklin didn’t understand.

  While most people had their eyes closed, Franklin kept his open, curious.

  Eddie walked around the circle, stopping in front of each person, then waving her hands in front of them. She didn’t follow the same pattern: Sometimes she started at the head and followed the body down, sometimes she just did circles around their belly.

  When Eddie got to Franklin, she focused on his heart.

  The lights around Eddie grew brighter, and she moved in time with them for once, pushing warmth and strength inside of Franklin, healing something inside of him. He felt like he’d just taken a spoonful of warm honey, the sweetness lingering in his mouth while his insides were coated with golden light.

  No wonder Lexine had kept coming back to this group, if Eddie could sometimes tap into her powers and do that.

  Maybe there was something to this pagan thing, but Franklin didn’t think he’d be leaving the church anytime soon.

  After the service, Franklin went over to talk with Eddie. “Thank you for having me, ma’am,” he told her, shaking her hand. “And thank you for the healing.”

  “You’re welcome to come back,” Eddie said, beaming at him.

  “Y’all know Lexine was special, right?” Franklin asked Eddie.

  “She was,” Eddie said. “She could always find the heart of the goddess, in whatever location we prayed in, whether it was here, or out in the fields, or in the woods near her place.”

  Franklin nodded. “She was good at seeing spirits. You could see ’em too, you know.” Franklin wasn’t sure exactly what Eddie’s gift was, beyond the healing, but she could be doing everything better, that he knew.

  “The goddess moves through me every day,” Eddie said. “Showing me miracles and the divine.”

  It felt like an answer Eddie had rehearsed, like the same response Franklin gave folks when they asked if he was still single. “Well, that’s nice,” Franklin said. “But I think your goddess could show you more, if you was willing.”

  Eddie shook her head, smiling. “Lexine told me the same thing. But I’m too old to change my ways.”

  “I understand,” Franklin said. And he did. Taking on a gift like his or Lexine’s meant a lot of work. It also meant not fitting in, or not as well, with regular folk. But he’d always seen it as his duty, too—not something he could refuse. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he added. He’d like to introduce Eddie to Adrianna. Eddie was like solid mountain, hefty, and not easily moved, while Adrianna floated through life. If they could work together, they’d probably be something even more special.

  “Thank you,” Franklin told Julie as they got in the car. “For bringing me there.”

  “You’re welcome! I know the group really appreciated you coming, since you’re Lexine’s family and all.”

  They drove through the darkness in silence. The night had cooled off enough that they’d opened the windows, using the two-by-fifty-five AC.

  “Do you think you’ll want to come back?” Julie asked after a bit.

  Franklin hesitated. “I’m not sure it’s the right place for me,” he said. He’d never tell her outright that he’d never go back.

  “That’s what I figured,” Julie said. “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

  “Whatdaya mean?” Franklin asked. He’d actually liked Eddie, even if she’d refused her gifts.

  “Lexine said it was hard to see her closed off that way,” Julie said.

  Franklin shrugged. “A gift is sometimes a burden. It ain’t always easy to carry.”

  “You see things for your gift, don’t you?” Julie guessed. “Like Lexine.”

  “Maybe,” Franklin said. “And maybe not.” He wasn’t admitting his gift to a pretty white nurse, especially since he did want to see her again.

  Julie left it at that, and they didn’t say much els
e until she’d dropped him off in the driveway.

  “I wouldn’t mind it,” Julie called out her window.

  “Wouldn’t mind what?” Franklin asked.

  “Wouldn’t mind if you had a gift. Or if you called me again. Goodnight.”

  “Night,” Franklin said, standing in his gravel driveway, watching her kick rocks as she climbed back up to the road.

  Something cold moved down Franklin’s back. Fearfully, he turned around.

  Sweet Bess stood near the door, nosing along the base of the steps, not looking like she was going to attack him, but just hanging out in the yard.

  Franklin watched her with relief.

  His gift was back. And he bet, so was Mama.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE NEXT MORNING, FRANKLIN STOOD In his own tiny bathroom and removed the bandages from the wounds along his arms. The swelling had gone down a lot, and the skin looked only a little puckered under the stitches. It took some effort, and a long ruler from Mama’s room, but he managed to pull off all the bandages on his back as well. Those wounds didn’t look as swollen or bad. Maybe it was because it had just been glass, and not the creature.

  Today, Franklin got to take a real bath. He didn’t want to risk a shower, and wasn’t sure how that spray would feel. But soaking in a tub? He could do that all morning long—that is, until he had to go to church.

  After Franklin filled the tub, he gingerly set one foot in the water, then the other. God, the water felt so good. He crouched down and settled himself in. It was going to be another hot one today, but he still enjoyed the heat from the water, soaking into his skin, soothing his bones. His back itched a bit in the water, which he’d added Epsom Salts to. But it was a good itch, like muscles ready to be used after a rest.

  With reluctance, Franklin got out of the tub when his alarm dinged. He patted himself carefully—nothing bleeding, nothing torn—and got dressed in a good white shirt and gray trousers. He wasn’t going to wear his suit today.

  Sweet Bess was the first thing Franklin saw in the back when he opened his bedroom shade. God damn it. She was rooting around one of the stalks along the end of the row. She’d been the one who’d been knocking his corn down, one stalk at a time.