The Witch's Empathy

by Iris Kincaid

  Oh, Erin wanted to shake him. And to hug him. And demand that he forgive himself. What was it going to take?

  Orlando was really good with the children too. He was surprisingly outdoorsy, for a doctor. He had helped several of the incompetent city folk to help set up their tents and to get their fires going. He showed them what to do with their trash, and as much as 150 people in the woods are capable, how to leave behind a light footprint.

  Even on this occasion, with half of his mind focused on Erin, he kept a sharp eye out for the energetic kids who loved to run through the woods at full steam. For a moment, they did actually lose track of one of the kids. But Erin could hear his thoughts. He was scared. Not because of being lost but because of a person. Who was in the woods?

  “Come and pick up this dreadful little child, and then you and I can have a nice little chat.”

  It didn’t take long to spot the boy, and the woman who terrified him and who had spoken directly to Erin’s mind. Erin knew that it was best to keep Orlando and the others away from this witch.

  “Who is that?” Orlando wondered.

  “She lives in these woods. I . . . I know her. Why don’t you take Louis and all the others back to the camp, and I’ll have a little chat with my . . . friend there. I’ll be back real soon.”

  “Sure. If that’s what you’d like.”

  Orlando waited as Erin went over and grabbed the young boy comfortingly by the shoulders. “Louis, you go back with Orlando and the others.”

  “You come too.”

  “I’ll be right along. I just want to have a few words with my friend . . . my friend . . .”

  “Fiona.”

  “My friend Fiona here. You go along now. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Louis took off running as if he were being chased by a grizzly bear.

  “There was no need to frighten the child. I’m not sure exactly who you are, but it’s witches like you who give big, dark woods a bad name.”

  “Aren’t you the brave one?”

  “Those children are under my charge. And I can’t possibly see what interest you might take in them.”

  “You’re right. It is you whom I find interesting. I was wondering when I would cross paths with another of Lilith’s protégés.”

  “I could hear you telling me to come over here. It seems my abilities are getting stronger.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You heard me because I willed it. I have a level of command over the reading of minds that you can never possess. Lilith had extraordinary command—it is true. But you can only attain a fraction of her powers. How is your little search for Regina Gorman’s killer?”

  “Not great. But then, you knew that.”

  “You’re making things unnecessarily difficult for yourself. I’m sure that Regina Gorman knows who killed her. You have only to lay your hands on her body to read her thoughts.”

  “How can the dead be thinking anything?”

  “Lilith Hazelwood is dead. And yet apparently, Delphine Sykes cannot for the life of her rid herself of Lilith’s incessant jabbering. Yes, she continues to think and regret and plot. If you want answers, you must seek them from the mind of the victim.”

  “Her body is still at the morgue. Geez. How am I possibly going to get in there?”

  “I’m sure your ingenuity is up to the task. I had no idea that so many new witches would spring from Lilith’s remains. If I’d had any idea what that horrible doctor was up to, I would have retrieved Lilith’s heart before he got ahold of it. And what portion of Ms. Hazelwood’s body did you get?”

  “Her kidneys. Both of them.”

  “I know it was the kidneys. I just wanted to see if you intended to be truthful. I also know that she lingers, although I cannot see her. She reveals herself to Delphine, who confides in all of you, I think. What does Lilith seek? Is it vengeance? It will be to no purpose. She is powerless and none of you are strong enough to help her. The sooner she accepts that, the better. She has been bested and done is done.”

  Bested by who? Erin wondered. She immediately realized that Fiona could hear her thoughts. “You know, I can’t really help what I’m thinking. I would never be rude and ask intrusive questions on purpose.” But of course, I’m wondering if you killed Lilith. “Oops. I should probably go.”

  “And be quick about it.”

  That was Erin’s cue to take off running as if she were being chased by a grizzly bear.

  CHAPTER NINE

  On her way back to the camp, Erin ran into Carly Grimes. She was sitting on a log, and she appeared to be in hiding—from her husband, no doubt. But her unpleasant spouse wasn’t the only one whose company Carly was dodging.

  “I wish that Mia Garland would just leave me alone. She keeps trying to make stupid small talk. I know she’s just waiting for her moment, just waiting until she sees I’m in a bad mood and she can just give me a big kick in the stomach to make things worse. That’s who she is. That’s who she always was.”

  “I remember how she was, Carly. She was as awful as awful could be. But that was twenty years ago. People can actually change. I think she is a whole different person inside.”

  “I’m not a whole different person inside. Are you a whole different person inside? I don’t think that anyone really changes. She was mean and hateful. She was like a teenage version of Regina Gorman. That’s exactly the kind of adult I predicted she would become. And I have no desire to witness it up close.”

  “You know, she’s had a rough few months . . .”

  “Yes. Some of the other people mentioned it. Her mother. The stroke. I feel really bad for Mrs. Garland. I feel bad for her, for her sake, but not for Mia’s. I think that she has you hoodwinked, Erin. You want things to be better, so you see what you want to see. But I can’t afford to pretend that things are better than they are. I don’t want to live in that kind of lie.”

  She leapt off the log, gave Erin a sorrowful glance, and wandered back into the woods. Erin knew better than to take Carly’s foul mood personally. Living inside a bad marriage clouds everything, poisons everything.

  Carly was so close to finding it unbearable, but maybe it would be better off if she did finally reach her breaking point. At least it would mean that she would be forced to do something. It was so clear that Carly dreaded the thought of returning home and being surrounded by her problems.

  She wasn’t the only one. Megan Fisher was gathering wood near the camp, moping about her state of destitution, and dreading the other options she was about to face.

  “This reunion is probably the last enjoyable thing I’ll ever do,” Megan said.

  What you mean? That you ever do in your life? That sounds a bit . . . suicidal.

  “But, after you go home . . .” Erin began.

  “There is no home,” Megan said hopelessly. “Just an eviction notice, waiting to be served. I can’t even afford a storage place to put my things. They’ll wind up on the street curb, being ransacked by neighbors and trash pickers. And then I’ve got to decide what’s going to be least painful—a homeless shelter or going home to live with my mother. I know that sounds ridiculously obvious to you, because you don’t know my mother.”

  “No, I totally get it. Because I do know my mother, and I’d rather sleep under a bridge than live with her again.”

  Megan was somewhat comforted that someone understood a bit of what she was feeling.

  “So, this is what rock-bottom looks like.”

  “No, it’s not. Believe me, I have felt rock-bottom. When I lost my last kidney. The dialysis. My future just looked like this black tunnel, no light at the end of it. Except . . .”

  “The light turned out to be an oncoming train,” Megan finished the dark joke.

  “You can’t give up. You can’t end it all.”

  “End what all?” Megan said, genuinely confused.

  Now, Erin was confused. Wasn’t Megan the desperate suicide voice? Okay, she had nearly perfected the art of nonchalantly placing a
sympathetic arm grip on someone’s shoulder while gazing at them in the eye.

  “End it all? That almost makes it sound as if she thinks I’m about to commit suicide. What a horrible thought. Heaven’s sake. I just need a job. Any job. I don’t need fulfillment. I don’t need a dream position. I don’t even need to know what color my parachute is. I need a J-O-B.”

  Ah. Not suicidal. Which was great. But still, pretty desperate. Not so great.

  “So . . . no jobs.”

  “No jobs. And believe me, it’s not for lack of trying. I think I’ve applied for five jobs a day for the past two years. That’s 3000 applications—okay, maybe I gave myself holidays off. I’m serious. I think I’ve applied for over 2000 jobs.

  “And I just can’t figure it out. I send out my smart resume, with my full credentials. I’m overqualified. I sent off my experience and education resume. I sent off my skills and verbal fluency resume. I sent off my dumbed-down resume, where to all appearances, I’d never acquired any education beyond high school.

  “Those were for the entry-level jobs that I don’t want to scare off with too much experience. Like a cashier. And then I go in for the interview. And it’s like they can smell my graduate degree. We don’t think you’d be happy here. Two years of this. I’m so exhausted. I don’t know where to turn.”

  The poor woman really was at the end of her rope. But Erin wasn’t so sure that there might not be a few stones left unturned.

  “Have you talked to people here about needing a job?”

  “Here? No! That’s the last thing I need—for people to see that I have absolutely nothing to show for myself after twenty years out in the world. This week was going to be my little, I don’t know, just a little space where I could pretend to have the life that I actually should have made for myself. I don’t need them to know that I’m a loser or to feel sorry for me.”

  “Megan—some of our classmates have become really, really successful.”

  “Way to rub salt in my wounds.”

  “What I’m saying is, some of them work for large companies—companies that have frequent openings. Some of them have opened their own businesses, so they are the boss and they’re the ones who make their own hiring decisions. They have friends, they have colleagues, they have clients. Are you willing to relocate?”

  “Of course.”

  “There are three days left to the reunion. And in these last three days, I want you to talk to everyone here. Everyone. Let them know that you’re looking for work. Let them know what you’re capable of, what experience you have.

  “Let them know that you will move anywhere. Those 2000 jobs you applied for—they don’t know you from Adam. The people who came back this week for the reunion—Oyster Cove means something to them. The high school means something to them. The classmates and those connections mean something to them. That’s your advantage. That’s your edge.”

  Watching Megan’s face was almost literally like watching someone wake up. “I’ll do it. What have I got to lose? Three days—250 people. And that’s not even counting the spouses! You know, this just might work.”

  “It will work. Now get back to camp right now and get started.”

  Erin watched Megan racing back to the camp, arms full of twigs. Erin was sure that Megan was going to be able to create a new start for herself. But . . . that still didn’t answer the question of where that heartbreaking suicidal despair had come from?

  The last suspect was Kira Davenport. Another unhappy marriage. But unlike Carly’s horrible husband, Kira’s husband, Jeff, didn’t appear to be a horrible guy. He just seemed a little lost, a little unsure of what to do. Perhaps it was time for a chat.

  Kira and the boys had gone off on a little hike of their own. Her husband, Jeff, was trying to figure out how to revive their dead campfire.

  “Not a big fan of hiking?” Erin asked.

  “No, it’s not really my thing.”

  “Is it Kira’s thing?”

  “Hardly. But the boys seem to be into it.”

  “The boys. The twins. You know, I was wondering whether I might have seen them in one of their modeling assignments. What companies did they work for? Catalogs? Fashion lines?”

  “I have no idea. That one, you’ll have to check with my wife about.”

  “You have no idea what jobs your children took? Did you see the pictures, the ads?”

  He looked at her sharply. What was she trying to imply? That he was a bad father? “I saw a few of them when they were babies. But this whole fashion thing . . . it’s just not my kind of thing, you know. Kira knows what to do. She can handle it just fine by herself.”

  “I’m sorry, but if you don’t mind my saying so, and even if you do mind my saying so, you should be aware of every assignment your kids take. Do you even know how much they’re earning? How it’s being invested? Is it sitting somewhere, not gaining any interest? Is it being handled by Bernie Madoff? Okay, obviously not him specifically, but maybe someone like him.”

  “Yeah, no. I don’t know any of that stuff. It just felt as if it wasn’t any of my business.”

  “Are you kidding me? They’re your children! Go to Kira. Tell her that you want to be involved with the kids’ careers. They are extremely good-looking boys, by the way. And they’re twins! I don’t know a whole lot about the acting world, but I think that’s kind of a goldmine. A lot of movie productions are looking for kids who can double for the same role.

  “I’m not saying it’s easy work to get into. It probably takes quite a bit of pounding the pavement. And head shots. And networking. Auditions. It’s so much work that Kira can’t possibly do it alone, and if she tried to, it would overwhelm her.

  “Don’t let it just be her thing. It should be a family thing. Help manage their money. Help them transition to acting, if that’s what the kids want. And help them keep up with the academics—that’s something they can let fall by the wayside. They need someone to keep on top of them.

  “If they wind up getting just a couple of gigs, you might be able to transition from your job and help be the kids as co-manager with your wife. Go talk to her about it. Just a few good years would really set the kids up for future security.”

  Jeff was nodding thoughtfully. Erin left him to contemplate these new options but then turned around. “And stop flirting on the Internet!”

  Erin next went to join Isabel and a small group of women who were around the campfire, prepping a few dishes for the upcoming evening’s meal. The toddler of one of them kept running up way too close to the flames, and his mother kept dragging him back, scolding loudly and threatening him with a big spanking.

  “Do people still spank kids anymore?” one of the women asked, not wanting to be too judgmental.

  “Sure, they do. I mean, not older kids, of course. But a two-year-old who can’t understand English, who doesn’t respond to a command—especially don’t do that, it might kill you.”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s just something every parent needs to figure out for themselves. But, you’re right about older kids. It just teaches them the wrong thing, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s humiliating. It makes you ashamed and afraid for years and years afterward.”

  Erin quickly surveyed the faces of the women around the fire. It was Isabel’s wooden expression that matched these bitter sentiments.

  “That horrible woman. Beating me as if I were an animal. I was only seven years old. Eventually, the school finally got rid of corporal punishment. But it was too late for me. The damage was done. It was upsetting for my whole family. My mother talked about it for years.

  “And then, when I thought that that woman was just an ugly thing in my past that I could forget, she changes from elementary school teacher to high school teacher. Almost as if she were stalking me. And there was no escaping her. Regina Gorman would not get out of my life. There was that one time, in the hallway, when she even had the nerve to joke about hitting me when I was a child. Very funny, Mrs. Gorman.
But now your cruelty has finally been ended.

  “S’mores . . . I should set up all the supplies for the s’mores.”

  Poor Isabel. The peppy, energetic reunion organizer was still carrying around some deep scars. Was it she who had put an end to Regina Gorman’s cruelty? It was impossible to say after the s’mores hijacked Isabel’s brain.

  What a complex, fascinating, and emotional collection of individuals. Healing their wounds now struck Erin as a far greater challenge than simply replacing a bad organ.

  *****

  The best part of the day is often the night. That’s especially true when camping. A roaring bonfire in a safe location, with marshmallows and hot cocoa, and even the occasional sing-along. There were about ten such fires tightly clustered around the campsite that night. It was definitely a moment that made almost everyone happy that they had agreed to come along.

  But life is never simple, and there were other thoughts around the campsite as well.

  “I should never have left my gun in that bush. Maybe I can get another one here in Oyster Cove before everyone goes home. Regina Gorman wasn’t the only one who deserved to die.”

  This was bad. Really, really bad. Not that Regina Gorman’s murder shouldn’t be looked at as a bad, tragic thing. But if someone else was going to be killed, that would be horrific. Because, by and large, Erin actually liked everyone else. Or at least, most of them seemed to be decent, albeit somewhat troubled people. No one who deserved to die.

  And yet, there appeared to be another murder being planned. Who was the intended victim? And who was the murderer? Erin didn’t want to find out the hard way. She had this wild desire to run around and touch everyone’s head in the campsite, like Duck, Duck, Goose. But as she had just seen with Isabel, a mind can wander from tragedy to s’mores in the blink of an eye. This was going to be a very difficult tragedy to avert. But didn’t she have to try?

  *****

  The camping trip was finally over, gear returned, showers taken, and Erin and her classmates were able to turn their attention to the less-demanding reunion events. On her way out of Hansen Sporting Goods, she crossed paths with Kira Davenport, husband Jeff, and their kids. The kids were chattering excitedly about where they’d like to go on their next camping trip. Kira and Jeff were, miracle of miracles, holding hands.