I whipped around. “You walked out on us! Mom’s done the best she can, without your help.”
Mom pushed around the counter to stand next to us. She put her hand on my arm. “You don’t come into my house and tell me how to raise my kids.”
“I’m their father.”
“No. You stopped being my dad a long time ago.” Jack shoved past him and headed upstairs.
Mom pointed at the door. “Get out.”
“This isn’t over.” Dad stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
“Mom—”
“Not now, Maggie! Just go to bed, okay?”
Her face crumpled. I wanted to comfort her, but for the second time tonight I didn’t know what to say.
Being a Godmother should’ve meant I could fix things. But it’d become painfully clear there were issues even my powers couldn’t help.
Chapter Thirty
“Don’t forget we’re supposed to meet Taylor and Seth at the movies tonight.” Jack threw back some soda, then crushed the can on the counter. He tossed it into a recycle bin, then sauntered to the fridge. He grabbed an apple.
I slipped on a brown leather jacket and collected my handbag. “I should be back in time.”
“Where are you going?”
“To visit Kat’s mom.” I plucked the piece of fruit from his fingers, took a bite, and handed it back.
“Don’t stay too late. I need a night out. At the rate we’re going, we’ll end up at Homecoming together.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Isn’t there a law against that?”
Jack chuckled and shoved me to the door. “Get outta here.”
A horn honked and I hurried through the foyer. A rusty old Gremlin sat in the driveway, its maroon body striped with orange, yellow, and blue paint.
Kat climbed out of the front passenger side of the car, holding the seat forward so I could get in back.
“Morning.” Mr. Melville waved from the driver’s seat. “Hope you like donuts.”
He handed back a box of donuts to me. I opened the lid and saw chocolate, powdered, and plain.
“Thanks.”
Kat slid into the backseat beside me, a Tupperware box on her lap. She flashed me a shaky smile.
“It’ll take an hour or so to get to the facility,” Mr. Melville said.
Facility? It had to be a prison. Frick. What did Mrs. Melville do to end up in a facility?
Kat nudged my leg. “Listen, I should warn you, my mom can be a little hard to handle, sometimes. So don’t take anything personal.”
Easy for her to say. I chewed my fingernail and stared at the scenery. The constant thwack-thwack of the windshield wipers relaxed me into a false sense of relief. I dug through the pastries until I found a chocolate one. If anything could make me feel better, it was chocolate. I bit into it and swallowed. It left a nasty taste in my mouth. But not wanting to offend Kat or her dad, I forced myself to finish it.
At last, we pulled up a long driveway. The sign on the lawn read Kensington Nursing Home.
I shifted in my seat. “Your mom’s in a nursing home?”
Kat folded her hands in her lap, her gaze straight ahead. “Yeah.”
Mr. Melville parked the car in the visitor lot, then craned his neck around to face me. “Kat didn’t mention her mom?”
“No,” she interrupted. “The subject never came up.”
Never came up? More like, she freaked out every time I tried to pry the information from her.
Her dad shot her an incredulous look, his brow furrowed. “My wife got in a car accident five years ago. She fell asleep at the wheel and crossed the center line. She was in a coma for a while and hasn’t been the same since she came out of it.”
I gasped.
Kat reached over the front seat to open the front passenger-side door. “I don’t like to broadcast it.”
Mr. Melville’s shoulders hunched over. “Her mom is alive, but has the mentality of a three or four year old. We visit as much as we can on the weekends. But it’s hard on Katrina.”
A lump formed in my throat. I fought to swallow. No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it. I slid from the car and stood next to her.
She stared straight ahead. “Can we keep this on the down low?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Mr. Melville grabbed his jacket, then shut the door behind him. He walked ahead of us, his body slouched.
Kat kicked at a loose stone. “He works two jobs to afford care for my mom. He spends all his free time up here with her. Talking to her, helping her eat. He refuses to move on. He should be living his own life.”
I touched her arm. “Listen, I’m sorry.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Please, don’t be.”
A pair of glass doors loomed ahead of us. Mr. Melville held them open while we crossed into the main area of the nursing home. Patients rolled by in wheel chairs, while others sat in a room off the lobby, watching TV. The nurses wore varying shades of blue-and-white with their nametags hanging from clips.
The halls gleamed white. The tiled floors shone with wax. Tacky paintings of flowers hung on the mint-colored walls. The scent of sterility clung to the air—a mix of bleach cleaners and tropical air freshener. An old man with a walker shuffled slowly toward us.
“Katrina dear, good to see you.” His white hair stuck up in cottony tufts.
“Hey, Mr. Kramer, look what I brought you.” She held up a baggie of chocolate chip cookies.
“My favorite. I knew you’d bring me some.” He accepted the bag and slipped it into his sweater pocket.
Kat held a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Mrs. Angelo, or she’ll get upset.”
I smiled at Mr. Kramer. He winked and pulled a small white flower from his pocket. “And who might you be, young lady?” He handed it to me.
“Maggie. I’m a friend of Katrina’s.”
I caught the scent of peppermint as he reached his frail hand for a handshake. “Any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”
Kat waved as we hurried to catch up with her dad. “I’ll stop down and see you before I leave, Mr. Kramer.”
Mr. Kramer turned and shuffled to the TV room.
I pointed toward Mr. Kramer. “He seems sweet.”
She smiled. “He is. I feel bad for him. His family never comes to see him. I mean, he’s lucky to get a Christmas card.”
A lady in a housecoat paced the floor, asking everyone she saw if they’d seen Henry. Another lady, pushing herself around in a wheelchair, kept ramming it into the doorway.
It all depressed me. The loneliness on the old people’s faces, the hopeful, expectant looks when they thought we might be family coming to visit, only to realize we weren’t. I saw all this as we walked down the hall.
When we reached the last room on the left, Mr. Melville knocked, then went inside.
“Hi, Anne.” He bent down to kiss his wife on the forehead.
Her jade eyes lit when she noticed Kat. She sat up, revealing a pink princess t-shirt and matching sweatpants. Her hair was auburn like Kat’s and kept in a short bob. A jagged scar covered the left side of her face and neck. Her hands shook uncontrollably.
“You came.” She giggled. “Did you bring me crayons?” Her childlike voice echoed through the room.
Mr. Melville opened a bag and pulled out three jumbo coloring books, a sixty-four pack of crayons, and three Disney Princess notebooks.
“Hey, Mom.” Kat moved to her mother’s side and Anne hugged her. “I like your haircut.”
Anne frowned. “They cut my braids. I can’t wear ribbons.”
Mr. Melville waved me inside from the doorway. I forced a smile as I eased into the room and leaned against the wall. How did they cope with this? Just seeing them together tore me up.
“I can still put ribbons in your hair for you, Mommy.” Kat grabbed a brush from the nightstand and went to sit on her mother’s bed. “Mom, this is my friend, Maggie, from school.”
Her mom tilted her head to the s
ide, examining me. “Color with me?”
“What do you say?” Kat interrupted.
“Please.”
The look Kat gave me showed she was already sorry I came. I hadn’t colored with crayons in years, but the sad uncertainty on her face prompted me to action. “Sure, I’ll color.”
She shuffled through the stack of coloring books, then handed me one with a purple unicorn on the cover. “Can you make me a picture to hang on my wall?” She gestured to a corkboard with pictures covering it. Most of them had her name or Kat’s name on them. Lots of drawings. Lots and lots of drawings.
“I’d love to.”
She patted the chair next to her bed, then tugged the table on wheels closer to us.
I flipped through a few pages until I came to one of a princess riding a unicorn. “What’s your favorite color?”
She blinked several times before handing me a pink crayon. “Kat says for my birthday she’s going to buy me a Barbie with a pink dress.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to stop in so I can play with you.”
I caught Kat’s glance. Her lip trembled as she tied a purple ribbon in her mom’s hair. I ached to console her. It wasn’t fair she had to act like the mom. It wasn’t fair Anne was stuck in here. I turned my attention to the coloring book. With the pink crayon, I outlined the princess’ dress and shaded it in.
Anne gathered a few pieces of drawing paper together. She emptied a box of colored pencils onto the table and sorted through them. She dropped them several times, her hands unable to hold still.
“What movie do you want me to put in?” Mr. Melville held up several DVDs for her to choose from.
Her legs twitched as she attempted to situate herself. “Dora.”
Kat groaned. “You watched that one last time.”
“I get to pick, right?” Anne glanced at Mr. Melville.
He laughed. “Yes. You get to pick. Dora it is.”
I stared at Katrina and her mom. It was like watching a teenager with her kid sister.
We sat through two movies, then a caretaker brought Anne’s meal tray in. The instant she saw the sirloin steak, broccoli, and mashed potatoes, she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“I don’t want broccoli!”
“You need to eat or you’re not going to color anymore.” Mr. Melville pushed the tray close to her.
Her hands shook as she attempted to lift a fork. She stabbed at the meat several times, then burst into tears. Mr. Melville took the fork from her and proceeded to cut her meat into tiny pieces for her. Once he finished he poked the fork into a bite of steak. He held it to her lips, but she slapped it away.
“I can do it myself.”
“Mom, let Dad help you.” Kat flipped the channel to music videos.
Anne glanced at me. Something behind her eyes sparkled with life. Adult thoughts trapped inside a child’s mind.
“I’ll do it.”
Mr. Melville handed her the fork with a piece of meat on it. Again, she tried to lift it to her lips, but it dropped to her chin. It was hard to sit and watch. So I pretended to color. After several more failed attempts, Anne finally gave up and let him help her. At last she pushed the tray away. Mr. Melville used a washcloth to wipe off her hands and face.
“Will you girls be okay for a few minutes while I talk to Dr. Lucas?”
Kat stretched her legs out, her mouth wide open in a yawn. “We can handle it.”
“Be back soon.” He kissed Anne’s cheek.
I gave him so much credit for what he did. Not only had he been raising Kat on his own, but he held down multiple jobs to take care of his wife. The tenderness he showed her went beyond words. No way could I picture my dad doing it for my mom.
“Look, I drew a picture of you.” Anne nudged my arm and held up a piece of paper. “Butterfly girl.”
My mouth gaped open as I stared at a picture of a girl with wings.
I wet my lips. “Can you see them?”
She smiled and raised her hand to my back. Her fingers brushed against my shoulder-blades where my wings normally protruded. She nodded happily. “Yes. Are you here to save me from the monsters?”
Kat’s eyes widened. “She knows what you are.” She stood up and walked over to us. “How’s that possible?”
“I’ve no idea.”
Anne grabbed a notebook from her shelf. Loose drawings fell to the floor. “Save me from them?” She opened to a page filled with childlike drawings of shadowy, winged creatures.
My breath caught in my throat. Oh. My. This isn’t possible. My fingers trembled as I took the drawing from her. “Do you see these monsters?”
She tucked her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth. “Yes. In the dark. They crawl on the walls.”
“Then what happens?” I asked softly.
“I cry and the doctors give me shots.”
Kat gripped my arm. “Dang! Those are Grimms, aren’t they?”
Anne clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m telling. Dang’s a bad word.”
“Then why did you just say it?” Kat snorted.
Anne started to cry. “Don’t tell.”
She hugged her. “Calm down. I was kidding.”
What did the Grimms want at the nursing home? I thought they only targeted Godmothers. Unless there was someone here I needed to help. I twisted a strand of my hair. It didn’t seem like there was anyplace safe to go.
Anne’s sobs snapped me back to reality.
Kat looked up at me from her mother’s embrace. “Can’t you make her better? I mean, look at her.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, try. Please.” She stroked her mother’s hair. “I wish my mom was better.”
Power streamed through my veins, my wand appeared in my hand. Wings unfolded behind me as I closed my eyes, concentrating on the wish. Please let this work. The air around me shimmered with magic. The fine hairs on my arms stood on end. Taking a deep breath, I waved my wand. Electricity crackled as the energy shot out of me, but when I opened my eyes, nothing had changed. Anne still sat, cradled in Kat’s arms.
“Why didn’t it work?” Kat released her mom, glancing around the room.
“I have no idea. Some things can’t be changed.”
“But this, this is all I want. If you make the wish come true, I won’t ask for anything else. I promise. You can keep Connor Prince. I don’t care.” She covered her face with her hands. “Just make her better.”
My wings disappeared, and I stood, shoulders slumped, staring at them. My power failed me. And I’d failed her. I took a few steps forward then stopped.
“Don’t cry, Kat. I didn’t mean to make you sad.” Anne hugged her. “Let’s go to the rec room. It’ll make you feel better.”
“We can do whatever you want.” Kat sniffled, wiped her eyes, and then turned to me. “Can you get her wheelchair for me?”
Numb, I rolled the contraption to the bed and helped get Anne off the bed and settled into her wheelchair. “The butterfly girl will fix things, just wait and see,” she said happily.
My gut twisted as if someone had plunged a knife into it. We wheeled her into the hall, and I went still. Mr. Kramer stood, waving to us. Behind him an orderly mopped the floor, sloshing water all over the tiles. The orderly turned to look at us. Oh no. It was a Grimm. Shadows slithered from his pores like tar snakes. Wings black as oblivion flared out from its back. Coal eyes burned, a sneer twisted its lips. It raised one clawed hand and grabbed ahold of the elderly man.
Anne screamed, throwing herself to the floor. Her body convulsed. Her gaze glued to the entity, she frothed at the mouth.
I reached forward. “No. Let him go.”
“Maggie!” Kat cried. I glanced over my shoulder to see her crouched on the floor, trying to calm her mom. But Anne thrashed on the floor as if she were being tortured.
This wasn’t happening. I turned back to the Grimm. In one swift motion, the Grimm’s nails plunged into Mr. Kramer’s neck. Blood sprayed across the flo
or, his eyes wide. Help me. He mouthed the words as he collapsed in a heap. The Grimm smiled, wagging its finger at me.
Mr. Kramer was dead. Because of me. Nurses raced down the hall, rushing right past the creature. They never saw it.
“Anne?” Mr. Melville ran toward us. He dropped to his knees, trying to keep her still. A doctor and a few others came to help restrain her. What a nightmare.
The doctor stuck a syringe into her arm, and I turned away.
“Butterfly girl, make it stop,” she whimpered, as she was lifted onto a gurney.
“Katrina, you and Maggie grab some money from my coat and hop on the first bus home.” Mr. Melville called over his shoulder as he followed the doctor into the room.
Kat disappeared into her mother’s room, returning a few moments later, clutching some wadded-up bills.
I searched up and down the hall, looking for the Grimm. Didn’t find it, but I did see Mr. Kramer’s dead body being carried away. The orderlies talked of a brain aneurism. They never saw the blood.
My cell phone vibrated. With trembling fingers, I pulled it out of my pocket. “Grandma?”
“Maggie. It’s here. The darkness. It’s entered our world.”
I stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s coming.” Her voice sounded high-pitched, on the verge of hysteria.
Did she mean more Grimms, or something worse?
“Grandma, listen to me. I tried to grant a wish and it didn’t work.”
She took a deep breath as if to compose herself. “What kind of wish?”
“To heal Kat’s mom.”
“There are some things we can’t do, Maggie. We can’t raise the dead, nor can we heal people.”
“But I healed a child in the other world.”
“The child would have healed on her own. You simply sped up the process. But if a person is meant to be deathly ill, then their life will play out. We can’t undo what is already in the making. The lives of the people in this world are bound by the laws of the fates. If they are meant to die, we cannot stop it. If they are injured, we can’t undo the injury.”
“Then what good are we? If we can’t stop bad things from happening?”
Cinderella Complex Page 19
