by Catie Rhodes
CROSSROADS
CATIE RHODES
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1
THE RESTAURANT BUZZED around me as early morning patrons filled the space, hungry for a dose of greasy breakfast. The salty tang of frying bacon mixed with the dark smell of brewing coffee made my stomach growl under normal circumstances. Today, sour acid burned my guts.
He’s late. I shoved the thought away and stared out into the parking lot. No new cars had come since the last time I’d looked sixty seconds ago.
Late February chill radiated from the huge window. I cupped my half-full coffee mug between my hands and hunched my shoulders. Sitting alone at a big table in a busy restaurant qualified for a championship medal in loserdom. I checked the clock on my cellphone and squirmed.
My great-uncle Cecil was now fifteen minutes late. My cheeks heated at the idea of being stood up. Cecil had been friendly and welcoming when I’d tracked him down in Livingston, Texas two months earlier. But then he’d proceeded to ignore my phone calls. The only communication I’d had from him consisted of a postcard showing a beach somewhere in Florida. On the back Cecil had written, Hey, Peri Jean! My favorite place in the world! in his scratchy old man’s scrawl. It took me almost a week to remember I’d never given Cecil my address.
The call asking if I wanted to meet for breakfast had come late the night before, and Cecil had sounded in a rush with people talking in the background. Had I come to the wrong place? This was a popular chain in the Houston area. I racked my memory, calling up Cecil’s papery voice, remembering the street name he’d said. No, this was the right location.
My shirt, one I wore for client meetings, itched at the seams. I tried to scratch without looking like I was feeling myself up. The itch migrated just out of my reach. A crack in the restaurant’s vinyl booth seat bit into my leg through my black slacks. Why had I decided to dress up? This was stupid. I was stupid.
I checked my cellphone one more time. Twenty minutes late now. Cecil wasn’t coming. From now on, I wouldn’t answer his calls—fuck wanting to know more about my family. I’d learn about the origins of my growing power, or not, on my own. I tried to catch the waitress’s eye to signal for my check.
The woman stood with her back to me, talking to a table full of men dressed in jeans and work shirts. She laughed at something, throwing her head back, flirting with them for better tips. Great.
My black opal pendant pinged on my chest, signaling the presence of magic. I turned my attention back to the parking lot in time to watch my great-uncle get out of a four-door pickup. He finger-combed his thinning dark hair back and, smiling, said something to someone still inside the truck.
He’d brought others with him? My heart thudded harder. Now I’d have to impress not only Cecil but also whoever was with him. I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. All the ways I could screw up danced merrily through my head. I saw myself spilling coffee, getting food caught in my teeth, or just saying the wrong thing.
“Ma’am?” A voice interrupted my increasingly dark thoughts. “Can you help me?”
I turned away from the window. My visitor, a girl a few years my junior, wore a black tank top, the straps of her turquoise bra visible. Chill bumps covered her arms.
Her wide, tear-filled eyes locked on mine. “I was sitting in this booth earlier. My fiancé and I left, and I realized I’ve lost my engagement ring.” She held up one hand and pointed to her third finger.
“Let’s see if it’s here.” I stood from the booth and began searching through the crevices of the seat, most of my attention on the four-door truck in the parking lot. A young blonde woman had gotten out. Someone inside handed her a baby boy with black curls who was just big enough to start walking. He immediately began kicking for her to let him down. She set him on the parking lot’s asphalt but gripped his hand. Another adult-sized arm reached out of the truck, this one masculine. Someone tapped my arm.
“You see it?” A tear spilled out of one eye and tracked down the girl's cheek. She swiped at it, her lips trembling. “Me and Will just got engaged last night. We came here for an early breakfast to celebrate. Got home and didn’t have the ring.”
I re-doubled my efforts, even kneeling to look under the table, but saw nothing other than dirt, trash, and a dropped French fry. I stood and shook my head at her. “I’m sorry.”
She dug in her bag, took out an envelope, and scribbled something on it. I took my attention off her and watched the front door. Cecil walked in, spotting me immediately. The young woman, now holding onto two small children for dear life, crowded in behind him. A man I recognized as my cousin Finn entered the restaurant behind them, a blonde on his arm. A hostess spoke to them. Cecil pointed at me and then gestured to the children. She nodded, grabbed two kiddie chairs, and followed them.
The girl with the missing ring set the envelope on my table. “Will said the ring cost him one month’s salary, so I’m willing to offer a $500 reward. If you find it, call this number. ”
Please leave now. I couldn’t say those words out loud, so I nodded, pretty sure she’d never see the ring again.
Cecil and his entourage were halfway across the restaurant. My black opal gave another ping, probably in response to the supernatural gifts they shared with me. My shoulders cranked higher, and my heart tried to jackhammer its way out of my chest.
The missing ring girl followed my gaze, eyes widening. She mumbled her thanks and hurried away. Before I had time to analyze the weird encounter, Cecil was close enough to hold out his arms to me.
I went to him, and we hugged. He held me at arm’s length and put one chilly hand on each side of my face. He smiled, his dentures catching the harsh overhead lights. “You remind me so much of my sister.”
The well of loss, the one that came and went since the death of my beloved Memaw, opened up. I swallowed against it. My cousin Finn, thin-faced and handsome in an anemic way, pushed around Cecil and wrapped his arms around me. He’d been so busy in December we barely had a chance to speak, but our connection went all the way back to the night I got my raven tattoo when I was eighteen.
The blonde had taken Cecil’s arm. She stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. And I saw she was young. Really young. Both girls were. What the hell were they doing with Cecil, who had to be in his eighties, and Finn, who was within a few years of my age?
Cecil pulled her toward me. “This is my daughter, Jadine. My wife and I adopted her as an infant.”
That made sense. Jadine held out one hand, a smile curving her shapely lips, eyes still not meeting mine. It hit me then. Jadine was blind. I took her warm, slim hand in mine and gave it a shake. “Good to meet you.”
“I’m the one told Papaw to call you.” Her voice was soft and melodious as wind chimes on a fall day. “I saw you in a dream, sitting in our motor home.”
“Jadine’s got a touch of the sight.” Cecil smiled. “Sometimes her visions warn us about things. Sometimes they remind us to do things—like call and have breakfast with you.”
Everybody laughed. I joined in, but hesitantly. Cecil said Jadine was his daughter. Why did she call him Papaw? I’d never heard of someone calling their father Papaw.
Finn pushed the girl-woman holding a toddler on one hip and a barely walking baby on the other hip toward me. “This here’s my wife, Dillon.”
Dillon pushed the toddler at her husband and extended the hand it freed up. Dark-haired and thin, Dillon had more freckles than anybody I’d e
ver met, other than Hannah Kessler. Makeup covered most of the freckles on her face, but little reddish dots covered her hands and the part of her chest visible above the neckline of her shirt. The two of us shook. Dillon's grip ground my bones together. I returned her squeeze because I don’t take shit off anybody. Dillon's lips curved.
“I think I’m gonna like you.” She had more of a drawl than I did, and her words ran together. She didn’t look any older up close. She looked younger. Twenty-two tops. I did the math. She must’ve been a teenager when she and Finn got together.
Finn, busy putting his son and daughter in their special chairs, took care to be gentle and patient, speaking to each child and giving them kisses on their heads. They responded to his touch with smiles.
The little girl leaned around him to stare at me. She had the same dark eyes as Finn, Cecil, and I have. Something in the depths of them caught my attention, pulled at my emotions.
“Zora,” she yelled at me.
“My oldest.” Dillon slid into the booth. “She’s a ringtail tooter. My boy is Zander. He’s kinda quiet. We wanted Z names ’cuz it’s unusual…” She trailed off, maybe realizing Zora mesmerized me. I stuttered a compliment on the names, which were unique and nice, and kept staring at Zora.
She didn’t look like our family other than the brown eyes. Her mahogany colored hair curled into cunning ringlets, which looked to be the same texture as Dillon's. The brutal Texas sun would probably burn and freckle her velvety skin into oblivion. Then she’d be a near carbon copy of her mother. Nothing wrong there. Dillon was cute as a label on a beer bottle. But there was something familiar in the little girl’s eyes. “She’s beautiful,” I murmured.
“Gonna sit down?” Finn motioned for me to get into the booth first so he could sit by his children. I startled, so intent on staring at Zora I’d almost forgotten everybody else. I obeyed and scooted all the way to the wall, leaning against the cold window.
The waitress came over, and we ordered. My jaw dropped when I heard the lavish amounts of food my family ordered. Enough for ten people, let alone five. Memaw had always been so conservative with our money.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” Cecil said as soon as the waitress left.
I pulled my gaze off Zora’s. There was something so familiar about her. I couldn’t quite place it.
“Hope you didn’t take offense.” Cecil added.
I shook my head to indicate it was okay, although his silence had confused and hurt me.
“We have a little community of sorts. There are strict rules about who gets brought in.” Cecil and Finn exchanged a long look.
Finn’s dark eyes flashed with mischief. “You showing up like you did in December ruffled some feathers. They got onto Papaw something fierce.”
I opened my mouth to apologize but was struck again by Finn calling Cecil Papaw. Finn was Cecil’s nephew. His grandmother had been one of Cecil’s sisters, just like Memaw. Weird.
Cecil smiled at whatever he saw on my face. “What is it? You can ask us anything.”
“Both Jadine and Finn have called you Papaw.” I tried to think of a way to word the question without being rude.
They all laughed, but Cecil spoke. “All the family calls me Papaw. I want you to do it, too, when it feels right.” He smiled. “Which I hope it does, soon. This is such a big, important day.” He gestured at the group gathered around the table. “This right here is the last of our family.” Cecil’s eyes misted, and he swallowed hard. He reached for my hand. I let him take it.
“I really hope I didn’t cause y’all too many problems showing up like I did,” I said, remembering what Finn said about the other members of their community giving Cecil the dickens over it.
“Fuck anybody who doesn’t want you.” Dillon raised her brows, creating a fan of wrinkles on her forehead. That fair, freckled skin would only look young a few more years. Poor thing. “’Cuz we do.”
Finn chuckled and touched his fingers to his temple, reminding me so much of my father and my uncle Jesse it almost hurt. Was this what Daddy would have looked like had he lived into his thirties?
“What happened to everybody?” I glanced around the table. “When I got my tattoo, there seemed to be quite a few of you.”
The table went quiet, glances I couldn’t quite read exchanged.
“Bad luck, more or less.” Cecil stared at his hands. “My sister Ruth, your memaw’s twin, died of cancer. Same thing happened to her son, who was Finn’s father.”
I glanced at Finn. I remembered meeting both his father and his mother all those years ago.
“My mother couldn’t stand the idea of life without Pops.” Finn’s thin lips were set in a grim line. “My sister, Mindy, married a guy from France and moved there. But my sister, Lottie, she disappeared. We think somebody bad got her.”
“My first wife and two children died in a plane crash in the sixties.” Cecil stared at his hands, and I regretted bringing all this up. “I didn’t remarry for years. Then I met Shelly and fell in love again. We have Jadine together.”
The waitress brought plate after plate of food to the table. I was glad for the interruption, realizing I’d brought up a sad subject. Everyone dug into their food. Plates were passed, samples offered. My stomach, sour from nerves, kept me from enjoying any of it. Cecil and the rest of my family ate heartily, but they barely made a dent in all the food they ordered.
Feeling the weight of someone’s gaze on me, I raised my head and found Zora staring. I smiled. She smiled back. My black opal pinged, and I put my hand to my chest. The magic, the strong magic anyway, came from her. Was that what felt so familiar? I watched her, thinking about it. No. There was something else. I still couldn’t put my finger on it.
The waitress approached, check in hand. “Need anything else?” She stared at all the uneaten food.
“Nope.” Dillon held out her hand for the check.
I half stood and reached for the check. “No. I’ve got it.” And I was willing. For the first time in my life, I had money to spare.
Dillon snatched the check and tucked it under her plate. She winked at me.
What did that mean? Butterflies and Valkyries swam in my stomach. Memaw always told me these people were cons. Was I about to get into the middle of some weird eat-and-run scene? I squirmed at the idea of calling Griff and Mysti from the police station.
Finn tugged my sleeve. “When we came in, there was a woman talking to you. What did she want?”
“She’d lost her engagement ring.” I pulled the envelope with her contact information on it out of my pocket and showed it to them. “She offered me a five hundred dollar reward.”
Everybody at the table, including Jadine, burst out laughing. Zora clapped her hands and shouted along. Zander watched with big, solemn eyes and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Dillon stopped howling long enough to reach over and take it out. She handed him a part of a syrup-doused waffle in trade.
Cecil leaned across the table and winked at Finn. “Where’s her partner, boy?”
Finn leaned back and surveyed the restaurant, fingertips drumming on the table, eyes narrowed. The fingers stopped drumming. “Lady by herself over there. Short, soccer mom hair. Expensive bag.”
We all stared at her.
“They thought Peri Jean here was a good mark until we rescued her.” Finn patted my arm. “Easier to get somebody by themselves to do something stupid, you know? But now Soccer Mom is focused on that older dude with the gold watch. The one eating at the counter?” The man sat hunched over a newspaper, one finger hooked through the handle of a coffee mug. “She’s getting ready to play it…right now.” Finn softly snapped his fingers, and Soccer Mom stood like magic. She walked over to the man with the fancy watch and dropped something on the floor. Then she clapped her hands to her cheeks and gasped. Soccer Mom had to tap the man’s shoulder to get his attention. She pointed to whatever she’d thrown on the floor. The man bent and picked up a piece of jewelry.
�
��What’s going on?” I directed the question to no one and everyone at the same time.
“It’s an old scam, but a good one.” Cecil grinned. “It takes a two-person team. The first person identifies a mark and tells him she lost her ring or some other expensive item and says she’ll offer a reward. You met her already. The second person on the team, your Soccer Mom, finds the ring within sight of the mark.” Cecil gestured to the man and woman. They had their heads together, intent on each other. “The mark already has the contact information of the girl who supposedly lost the ring. He’ll say she’s offering a reward.” As Cecil spoke, the man pulled an envelope just like mine out of his pocket and showed it to Soccer Mom. She checked her cellphone and shook her head, pointing at the exit.
“But Soccer Mom has an appointment she just has to get to.” Finn said the words with feeling, dark eyes glinting. “Now she’s going to offer to let the guy buy her out of the reward. How much did you say the reward was?”
“Five hundred dollars.” I watched the scene, mesmerized.
“Soccer Mom’ll offer to let him keep the ring and collect the reward for, say, two hundred fifty dollars.” Cecil sat up straight, smiling at the transaction. Sure enough, the man pulled out his wallet and peeled off some bills.
“But, see, he’s going to find out that number on the envelope doesn’t work.” Finn fake pouted. “And when he takes the ring to a pawn shop, he’ll find out it’s costume jewelry.”
Soccer Mom handed her mark the ring, shook his hand, and headed for the door.
“Aren’t we going to stop her?” I tried to stand.
Finn put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down. “No, we’re going to…”
The waitress appeared at the table, blocking our view. “I can take that check whenever you’re ready.”
Dillon moved her arm to cover the edge of the check. “We done paid our bill.” She made her voice sound high, bewildered, and incredibly young. She stared into the waitress’s face. “I give you a hundred and a twenty. Told you to keep the change.”
