Edie in Between

by Laura Sibson

  “So she’s always this excited?” I ask.

  Rhia wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Hello, hello, yeah she is!” I can’t help but snicker.

  The three of us cluster around the jewelry case. Black velvet boxes divide the jewelry. There are rings, mostly set in yellow gold. Necklaces drip from little hooks. Bracelets hang from a tubular display. Watches wait beneath the bracelets on their own curved displays. My eyes scan the chunkier ones designed for men. I absently slide the acorn pendant back and forth on its chain, welcoming the warmth and comfort it brings me.

  “No Timex watches,” Tess says.

  I’m still playing with my necklace as I lean over the counter, my heart sinking because Tess is right—when I spy a wavering area between two of the watches. I squint. I turn my head to catch it from my peripheral vision. There’s something there.

  I remember the spell Rhia created to reveal the images on the map. I change one word and use it here. I cross my fingers, too. That’s not magic, that’s just hope.

  “Something erased I wish to see,

  Reveal yourself anew to me.”

  The watch appears, filling a space that was empty a moment before. Without taking my eyes away, I point. “Look, there.”

  “Where?” Tess asks.

  I’m staring at a men’s watch. It doesn’t look terribly impressive as far as watches go. It’s just a Timex with a metal band.

  “Do you see it?” I ask. “The Timex stopped at 9:18?”

  “Yes.” Rhia breathes the word.

  “I see it now, too, but I swear it wasn’t there before!” Tess exclaims.

  A shiver of excitement runs through me.

  “Tess, could you ring the bell on the counter?” I ask. “I’m afraid it’s going to disappear again if I look away.”

  Tess rings the bell.

  “Coming!” Ms. Alvarez trills. “Coming, coming, coming!” She walks behind the counter and stops before me. “You found something?”

  “May I see that men’s watch, please?” I point to the watch that was invisible just a few seconds ago, but which now appears to be very solid.

  “Of course!” she says. She opens the cabinet from the back and snakes her arm in to grab it. Her hand hovers over each of the two watches on either side and for a moment I’m not sure she’ll see it.

  “Tell her,” Rhia whispers.

  “It’s a men’s Timex with a metal band. Between those where your hand just was.”

  I haven’t moved my eyes from the watch. I see her hand hover for a moment longer.

  “Oh! I see it.” Her hand lands on the watch. My relief is immediate. “I must have been looking from an odd angle,” she says. “I missed it at first. Here you go.” She sets the watch in its open box on the glass top of the display case.

  “Do you have any way of knowing who brought this watch in originally?”

  She lifts the box and looks at its underside. “Let me see if I can find some information in our files.”

  “Thank you.”

  “In the meantime, feel free to look at it more closely, if you like.” She turns to head to the back room.

  I lift the watch from its holder and place it on my wrist. Almost immediately, dimness clouds my eyes. When my vision clears, I don’t see the antique store or Rhia or Tess. I see a girl and her father on a dock, fishing. The dock looks sturdy and freshly stained and I recognize it as the one at the cabin, before it began to submerge. This is my mother when she was a child, maybe nine years old, with her father. He’s showing my mother how to hook a worm. My mom giggles and shows him her fish face. She crosses her eyes, purses her lips, and waves her arms like gills. She used to make the same fish face at me. It never failed to make me laugh. At the gong of a bell, they both look up. My grandfather consults his watch.

  “Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?” he says to my mother.

  “Yup. Mama must have lunch ready,” she says.

  “Good! I’m so hungry that I almost ate this worm!” my grandfather says.

  “Well, I’m so hungry that I might eat the fish who ate the worm!” Mom counters. “And the bear who ate the fish, too!”

  My grandfather laughs. He ruffles her hair and they walk together toward the steps leading up to the cabin. A swell of love consumes me. I want to stay in this memory, watching my mother as a child and my grandfather, whom I never met.

  “We need to get it off her,” I hear a voice say.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Let me try.”

  “Hurry, Ms. Alvarez will be back any minute!”

  A searing white pain in my left wrist yanks me from the beautiful scene.

  “Are you all right?”

  I open my eyes to find Rhia and Tess peering at me. I’m on the floor of the antique shop.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Why did you take the watch off?” I’m missing the memory already. Wishing to be back in that place. A wave of nausea rolls over me.

  Rhia and Tess look at one another. “You seemed to be in a trance or something. You went super still, but your eyes were open.”

  “Not gonna lie, it was pretty freaky,” Rhia says.

  Tess and Rhia each take one of my arms to yank me to standing. I’m overcome with a rush of vertigo.

  “Are you okay?” Rhia asks. “You look really pale.”

  “And you’re shaking,” Tess says.

  “I don’t know. I thought I was okay. But I’m so cold.”

  “Oh, shit, look,” Tess says. She points to my wrist where the watch had been. The fine black lines that had progressed from my palm to my wrist after the last trip to the cabin are now up to my forearm. “The watch must have made it worse.”

  “That’s not good,” Rhia says. Grasping the watch with the edge of her T-shirt, she drops it into its box and snaps it shut as if it contains an evil spirit. “What happened when you put the watch on?” she asks.

  “I was looking at a moment from my mother’s past. A happy memory.” I smile. “It was so nice.” I rub my palm and my wrist, trying to warm it up. Shadows dance at the edge of my vision, but I shut my eyes tight and when I open them, my vision is clear.

  “So, that’s definitely the watch we were looking for,” Rhia says.

  “One down, four to go,” Tess says.

  “But hopefully, Edie won’t go into a trance every time,” Rhia says.

  “Ha, yeah,” I say, but in truth, I can’t wait to put that watch back on my wrist and see that memory again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  EDIE

  “Scooby Gang’s all here,” Tess says, when we’re all gathered in front of the hardware store.

  “Thanks for coming,” I say.

  “Anything weird after taking that watch home?” Rhia wants to know.

  “Nope.” I don’t tell them how I spent most of the night wearing the watch, allowing the memory to play over and over. I also don’t mention how I was so nauseous this morning that I couldn’t eat breakfast. I’m telling myself that I must have caught a stomach bug.

  “Hey, how’s your wrist?” Tess asks.

  I hold up my arm covered in gauze. “GG to the rescue.”

  GG had been perplexed when I showed her the progression. She’d muttered about how the protection spell should have halted the infection because it should have blocked any additional corrupted magic from reaching me.

  “Are those black lines any better?” Rhia asks.

  “I think so,” I say. I’m lying because she’s already worried enough and besides, we’re handling this.

  As if she wants to reprimand me for holding back the truth from my friends, Mom appears behind Rhia. I’m conflicted as I see her floating there. I miss the mother I knew, and I loved seeing the memory of her young with her dad. But I don’t know how to integrate that with the mother who invoked the
thing that inhabits our cabin. That’s now infected me.

  “What’s the plan?” Tess asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Okay, so based on the map and Mom’s journal, we think we’re looking for a photo that should be here. There’s like a Wall of Fame or something?”

  “That Wall of Fame is legendary. Just saw it the other day when I was here with Jorge.”

  “Let’s do it,” Rhia says.

  The guy working behind the counter barely looks up from his phone when we enter. I can’t help but think that Jamie was much better at customer service. Tess leads Rhia and me to the huge display of photos in the back of the store. There are hundreds of them.

  “I’ve got a needle in a haystack feeling,” Tess says.

  “Rhee, remember the Finding Something Lost spell that I wrote down?” I ask in a low voice.

  “Sure, but we can’t light a candle here,” Rhia says.

  “The note said that we didn’t need the candle as long as you’re specific about what you’re looking for.”

  “But isn’t it intended for like earrings or something you owned and have lost?” Tess asks. “You’ve never even seen this photo before.”

  “Well,” Rhia chews her lip contemplatively, “everything I’ve read suggests that magic is so much about intention. The objects—like the candle or the rosemary—are often just vehicles for the intention. What did your mom’s journal entry say about the photo?”

  I close my eyes to remember what the journal said. “Mom is sitting in a chair that they’d built. Her dad stands nearby. They are both smiling.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Rhia says. “Tess, can you distract the guy?”

  “Uh, I’m kind of seeing someone? Hello?” Tess says.

  “Oh my gods, you don’t need to make out with him. Just talk to him. Like a human being talks to a human being.”

  “Fine.” Tess throws up her hands.

  Rhia turns back to me. “Okay, I’ll block you so no one can see.”

  I try to push away my overwhelming sense of self-consciousness. Magic is definitely about intention. And I already know that these spells only work well if you give them your full attention, no snark. I breathe in and breathe out. I do that two more times, centering my mind on the wall. I’m one in a long line of Mitchell women calling on their inner power, I can do this.

  “As I hold this image in my mind, help me see what I hope to find,” I intone, my eyes closed.

  “As it is above, so below,” Rhia whispers.

  The warmth of magic glows in me, and I flutter my eyes open. As if guided by an invisible force, my hand is drawn to the top middle of the display where an image is flickers in and out of visibility. “I see it,” I whisper.

  “I see it, too,” Rhia whispers back.

  I’m dying to get that photo in my hands so I can see another memory of my mother. But even on tiptoes, I can’t reach. “I need a stepladder,” I say.

  “No, you don’t,” Rhia says, excited. “I’ve read this one! Keep your eyes on it and ask it to come to you. Say: lost thing, come to these hands.”

  Feeling doubtful, I hold my hands with palms facing upward. “Lost thing, come to these hands.”

  “As it is above, so below,” Rhia says again.

  I can’t bring myself to say those words that all witches say. They don’t feel like my words just yet. Instead, I say, “Please.”

  It happens in an instant. The photo was on the display and then it is in my hand. I stare at it, faded and curled from time. My mom’s child face grinning at the camera. Her father resting one hand on the back of the chair, smiling.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I whisper.

  “You did it!” Rhia says, leaning her chin on my shoulder. I tilt my head so that it rests against hers, enjoying this rare moment of closeness. I press the photo to my chest. “I can’t believe that worked.”

  “I had enough confidence for both of us,” she whispers. Her breath tickles my ear and sends delicious shivers through my body. I could turn my face and kiss her. It would be that easy. Just as I wonder if I should, she pulls and away and calls over her shoulder, “Tess, stop flirting. We’re leaving.”

  * * *

  * * *

  We leave the store giggling, a little giddy from our victory. Now that we have the second item, I only need three more. Based on our success so far, we should have all of the items before this infection even reaches my elbow, let alone my heart. I can handle the nausea and dizziness because it’s all going to be over soon. As least that’s what I tell myself. Though I’m finding that I’m not as focused on leaving Cedar Branch as I was when all of this began.

  As we walk toward Cosmic Flow, Tess suggests we stop for iced coffee to celebrate this win.

  “I can already taste that sweet, sweet iced mocha latte,” Rhia says.

  At the coffee shop, I order a peppermint iced tea because I’m remembering Mom’s favorite summer drink. While we wait, I pull out the photo to look at it again. Everything around me fades away and a memory comes into sharp focus.

  It’s a sunny afternoon. My mother and my grandfather are working outside. My mother is older than the memory from the watch, maybe twelve. She and my grandfather are constructing the chairs. He’s measuring wood and she seems to be sorting nails.

  “Always measure twice so that you only need to cut once,” he says to her.

  She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You’ve told me that a hundred million times.”

  “Have I?” he asks, equally good-natured.

  “Can we do s’mores tonight?” she asks.

  “Of course! Why don’t you gather up some kindling with Mama?”

  “Oh, and maybe we’ll collect some raspberries, too!”

  I feel the summer sun and the love between my mother and her father. I want to linger, but the image strobes. I feel like I’m tumbling. I can’t see and my ears are full of a loud whooshing. I land with a heavy thud and the whooshing grows louder. Rhythmic. Wings beating. Something soft and smooth falls on my face, and then another and another. At first, they tickle. Feathers. They fall one after the other until I am smothered. I can’t breathe.

  I hear my name from far away. I gasp for air.

  “Turn her over.”

  I need to open my eyes. I sense a bead of warmth, but it seems so distant.

  “Is she on something?”

  “Is this an overdose?”

  “Should we call someone?”

  I fight to get to the surface. The warmth grows. I am so close. Almost there. When I come to, I’m on a couch in the coffee shop. My hand clutches the acorn charm. Nausea roils in my stomach. I feel like there’s something stuck in my throat and my mouth feels dry.

  “I really think we need to call someone.” The manager of the coffee shop stands back, looking at me with distaste.

  “Did I puke or something?” I say as I push myself to a sitting position.

  “Sort of?” Tess smiles apologetically to me.

  “The manager wants to call your grandmother,” Rhia says.

  I shake my head. “GG doesn’t believe in phones. Besides, I’m fine.”

  I cough and pull a black feather from my mouth.

  “That’s what I meant by ‘sort of,’ ” Tess says. On the floor are more tiny black feathers.

  “Edie, you’re not fine!” Rhia says.

  Tess hands me a tall cup. “Here’s your tea.”

  “Let’s go,” Rhia says, holding the door open for me.

  I can’t get out of that shop soon enough. I’m so embarrassed by what happened. Outside, the late afternoon heat is like a balm on my skin. I slurp at my tea gratefully. I had ordered it because Mom loved peppermint iced tea, but now I’m glad for the peppermint helping to dispel my nausea. Rhia’s arms are crossed over her chest and she looks concerned.


  “What?” I ask as we walk away from the shop.

  We stop at a bench and sit down.

  “Seriously? You ordered your tea and then dropped like a rock,” Tess says.

  I glance back toward the shop. “I’m mortified about that. The photo showed me the sweetest memory, though.” I start to pull it out, wanting to see the memory again.

  Rhia swats my hand away. “No! You can’t touch that photo again.”

  “Right. You’re totally right,” I say, even as I’m yearning for that memory.

  “Look at your arm,” Rhia says.

  The black lines which had been hidden by GG’s gauze are creeping up past that point, to the midpoint of my forearm. “Oh.”

  Rhia shakes her head. Tess suggests that we go hang at the beech until her shift. On the way, I think about Mom building the chair with her father. I want to see the other memories, even if they make me feel sick. Seeing Mom again, even as a kid, made the missing of her just a little more bearable.

  At the beech, I climb into the hammock and pull her journal from my bag. “Seems like the items used for that invocation are all mentioned in this journal. Should make it easy to figure out the rest.”

  Tess and Rhia talk in low voices while I begin to read the next entry.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  MAURA

  July 9, 2003

  I was still in bed and it was already deep afternoon, maybe. It was hard to tell because of the unrelenting rain. I’d found Dad’s dog tags hanging on a hook in his workshop and I’d put them around my neck. They remind me of the most vulnerable side of my strong father, at least before he got really sick. Dad never spoke of the war. But Mama and I both knew when it was on his mind. He’d go quiet while staring at the television. It wasn’t simply silence; it was an absence. Like he’d left us. Other times he’d spend hours alone in his workshop.

  Mama knocked on my door, pulling me from my memories. She gestured for me to get out of bed. I told her that if she wanted me to do something, then she’d need to ask me. Out loud. She looked sort of helpless after that and left.