Witchin' USA

by Amanda M. Lee

  I rubbed my eyes and debated whether or not I should search the lighthouse. I didn’t know the layout well enough to attempt to do it in the dark, but if I flicked on a light and someone was inside it would tip them off that I was awake. That might trigger a fight or flight response – the fight being the worst possible choice in that scenario – and I wasn’t sure how I would react.

  Of course, this was an island, not Detroit. The noise I’d heard could’ve been some sort of beach animal on the patio for all I knew.

  I sucked in a steadying breath to calm myself and tossed off the sheets, quietly getting to my feet and padding toward the doorway. I listened hard, hoping for the sound of muted whispers or animal claws on the hardwood floors, because that would mean I wasn’t imagining things. Sure, that would mean I was in a house with intruders or man-eating monsters, but at least I wouldn’t be crazy. Dead is better than crazy, right?

  I blew out a sigh, my tousled bangs fluttering, and forced myself to step into the hallway. I heard a light clinking sound, as if dishes were being emptied from the dishwasher, and squared my shoulders before determinedly walking in the direction of the kitchen.

  The metal staircase was narrow enough that I didn’t risk sliding to one side or tripping as I descended. The lighthouse was mostly dark, but the moon over the water was bright enough that it offered occasional bursts of illumination through the multitude of lighthouse windows.

  I’d just about convinced myself that I imagined everything when I heard a noise in the kitchen a second time. It was completely dark and I couldn’t see any movement in the murkiness, but this time I was sure I heard something. I had a few options, although none of them particularly called to me, and I was unsure how to proceed.

  I could run out the front door and scream for help. I could run out the front door and hide behind a bush before calling 911 and requesting help. I could go back upstairs and hide underneath the covers until morning. Or, and this was the dumbest idea of all, I could walk into the kitchen and confront whoever broke in.

  I did the latter. No joke. Here’s the thing about me: I’m braver than I am smart. When I was a kid, all anyone needed to do was dare me and I would do the most asinine things. You know all those memes that say “This is why women live longer than men?” I was in those – except I was the woman making the stupid decisions. I can’t seem to help myself.

  Despite my rampant idiocy coming out to play, I didn’t walk into the kitchen without a backup plan. I expected to turn on the light and scare off an intruder. But if the intruder didn’t run I didn’t want to be caught without a weapon. With that in mind, I grabbed one of the heavy metal bookends from the cabinet near the hallway wall, gripping it tightly before moving to the kitchen.

  I ran my hand over the wall to the left, feeling for the light switch, my heart pounding so loudly I thought the noise would overwhelm me. It was only after thirty seconds of searching that I remembered the light switch was on the other side of the doorframe.

  I heaved a sigh, shifted the bookend from one hand to the other, and flicked the switch. For better or worse, I’d made my decision. Standing in the dark and trying to talk myself out of it wasn’t going to work. It never worked.

  I blinked rapidly when the room flooded with light, taking a moment to get my bearings. At first I felt sheepish, as if I’d imagined everything. There was no scary man standing on the other side of the island counter waiting to pounce. There was no dark and scary female searching through the drawers for the family silver.

  There was absolutely nothing. I’d imagined it all. The kitchen was empty and safe and … hmm. I know I didn’t leave the dishwasher open.

  “You’re up late, dear!”

  I screeched at the female voice, jerking out with the hand that gripped the bookend and swiping it in the direction of the unexpected visitor. The woman – a tiny old lady with long silver hair and amused green eyes – didn’t flinch as the bookend went through her. No, you read that right. The bookend went through her. It didn’t bounce off her. It simply passed through her.

  “What the … ?” My mouth dropped open as I tried to register the phenomenon.

  “You need to put that down.” The woman inclined her head toward the bookend. “It’s old, turn of the century. I mean the turn of the previous century, for the record. It’s iron.”

  I managed to find my voice, although it was squeaky. “Does that mean it’s fragile?”

  “No, it’s iron, dear.” The woman’s grin was mischievous. “It simply means that it’s heavy and you’ll start feeling the strain in your muscles if you’re not careful.”

  She wasn’t wrong. My shoulder was beginning to ache. I grimaced as I cradled the bookend to my chest and glared at the woman moving toward the dishwasher. I was dumbfounded when she removed the dishes I’d put in for washing earlier and carried them to the cupboard.

  That’s when my righteous indignation flooded forward. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Putting the dishes away.”

  “I can see that, but … why?”

  “Because I know where they go, and I thought I would save you some time.”

  That sounded perfectly reasonable – except for the fact that I was fairly certain I was talking to a ghost and she shouldn’t be able to carry dishes. “Who are you?”

  The woman’s eyes twinkled as she flicked them in my direction. “Don’t you know, Hadley?”

  “I … .” I worked my jaw and forced myself to calm, carefully resting the bookend on the counter as I struggled to make my brain work. “You’re May Potter.”

  “No.”

  “You’re not May Potter?” I’d seen photographs. There were at least forty snapshots in frames around the house and most of them contained some version of this woman over the course of her life. I was certain I was right. “You must be.”

  “I am May Potter,” the woman confirmed. “But you should call me ‘grandmother.’ I’ve waited decades to hear it, after all. I think I deserve it.”

  I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, part of me convinced I was dreaming. “Uh-huh.”

  “You look a bit pinched, dear.” May’s ghostly hand mimicked patting my cheek. I could feel a brief flutter but no actual contact, which only served to weird me out even more. “Sit down. I’ll make you some tea.”

  Sit down? She had to be joking. “I’m dreaming, right? That’s the only explanation.”

  “You’re not dreaming.”

  “Then how do you explain this?” I sounded shriller than I was comfortable with, but because I was talking to a dream vision of the grandmother I’d never met I wasn’t overly worried about sounding like a loon.

  May fixed me with a calm but pointed look. “I’ve been watching you since you arrived and I figured now was the time to make my presence known. I didn’t want to let things go too long, because I thought you might freak out if I did.”

  “What do you think is happening now?”

  “I think you’re shocked and taking a moment to come to your senses,” May replied, seemingly unbothered by my tone. “I think that’s perfectly reasonable. Sit.”

  I watched her move toward the pantry, my stomach tightening with each ghostly step.

  “I think you need something without caffeine,” May mused, tapping her bottom lip as she perused the tea selection. “Chamomile sounds good, right?”

  “Actually, I’d prefer some whiskey,” I gritted out as I sat at the small kitchen table and watched the ghost bustle in the direction of the stove.

  “I think liquor will make matters worse,” May countered. “You’re already confused. Alcohol will merely give you the option of believing you imagined all of this tomorrow morning, and then we’ll have to start over.”

  “And that would be a travesty, huh?”

  “It certainly would.” May set the kettle to boil and then moved in my direction. She didn’t walk so much as float. “I’m so glad you finally made your way to Moonstone Bay, dear. I can’t tel
l you how good that makes me feel.”

  “Uh-huh.” I flicked my eyes to the back door, briefly wondering if I somehow managed to make it there and screamed for help if anyone would hear me. “I was curious and wanted to see.”

  “I don’t blame you. The will must’ve come as a complete and total shock.”

  “It did.” I dragged my eyes back to May, curiosity getting the better of me. “Why didn’t you contact me before you died?”

  “I thought about it,” May replied, refusing to make eye contact as she flitted around the counter. “I thought I had more time.”

  The simple statement was enough to tug at my heartstrings. “Galen said that you were sick but not dying. He said that you were poisoned. Is that true?”

  “Galen, huh?” May’s eyes lit with mirth. “I didn’t realize you were already on a first-name basis with our esteemed sheriff.”

  “Sheriff?” I rolled the title through my mind. “Doesn’t Moonstone Bay have only three cops?”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not the sheriff.”

  “I guess not. Still … you didn’t answer me. Were you poisoned?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” May replied, removing the kettle from the stove and pouring the steaming water into a mug. “I know I was feeling poorly the last night before I went to sleep. I know I never woke up. I don’t know if I was poisoned. If Galen says so, though, I have to believe him. He’s not a liar.”

  “He’s weird,” I muttered, rolling my neck. “He might not be a liar, but he’s weird.”

  “You’re only saying that because he unnerves you.” May carried the tea to the table and slid it to the spot in front of me before pulling out the chair across the table and sitting. She looked perfectly normal, a caring grandmother getting to know her daughter’s child – other than the fact that I could mostly see through her.

  “He definitely unnerves me,” I said after a beat, debating the best way to proceed. I remained convinced I was dreaming. In some ways that was better. That meant I didn’t have to fear for my life. But I wanted information. Even if my subconscious was providing that information, I still wanted to know. “Why didn’t I ever meet you? Why didn’t my mother ever tell my father about you? Why would someone want to kill you?”

  “You have a lot of questions.” May chuckled, her voice harsh and dry. “I guess that’s fair. Why didn’t we ever meet? I wanted to, but your father didn’t think it was a good idea.”

  The admission was simple, but it set my teeth on edge. “What do you mean? My father didn’t know about your existence until the will showed up.”

  “Your father is not a bad man, nor is he guilty of terrible misdeeds, but he’s not entirely innocent in this scenario,” May replied, her tone calm. “Your father knew I existed from the beginning.”

  “He would’ve mentioned you,” I protested. “He didn’t know.”

  “Oh, dear, he knew.” May made a clucking sound and I could practically feel the sympathy oozing out of her ghostly pores. “Your father met me two weeks before he married your mother. He was charming, kind and furious when I refused to give my blessing to the union.”

  My heart felt heavy and I gripped the mug because I felt the need to do something with my hands. “I don’t understand.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Moonstone Bay is not a normal place,” May volunteered. “It’s … different.”

  “You mean because of this ‘island life’ nonsense?”

  “Island life is real, but that’s not what I’m referring to,” May replied. “The island itself is different. It’s a … different world, so to speak. We’ll get into that later. It’s a conversation that takes more than a night, and we have more important things to focus on.”

  “Like the fact that you’re a ghost yet you can still make tea?”

  “No, that would be something that falls under island life.” May was blasé. “Tonight, I think you need to know the family story. The other information can wait a bit. I expect you’ll find out most of it on your own.”

  “Oh, joy.”

  May snorted. “You have your mother’s sense of humor. I’m glad to see that.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  May’s smile slipped, something I couldn’t quite identify flitting through her eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. You’ll never know how sorry.”

  I steeled myself against the myriad of emotions passing over May’s face. “I don’t really care about that. You were about to tell me why my father lied about knowing you.” I wasn’t sure I believed the charge, yet part of me – a very small, cold part – knew it was possible. My father was a pragmatic soul, after all. If he convinced himself it was in my best interests to hide information, he would do so.

  “Your mother left Moonstone Bay when she was eighteen,” May explained. “She wanted to go to college on the mainland. Moonstone Bay is a United States territory, which you well know, so allowing her to go to college in Florida wasn’t as difficult as you might think.”

  “I do know. I was surprised to find that I didn’t need a passport or anything to move to the island, even though I’d never heard of it before. It seemed so easy.”

  “That’s the easiest thing about living on this island,” May confirmed. “But your mother, she wanted to see the rest of the world. I thought it was a fine idea. I thought she would go to college and then return to the island once she got it out of her system. But she met your father.”

  “And they fell in love,” I murmured.

  “I believe they fell in lust first – which is common at that age – but essentially, yes,” May said. “One day Emma informed me that she was dating a nice young man. The next thing she told me was that she was getting married and never returning to Moonstone Bay.

  “I was shocked, to be sure,” she continued. “I made the decision to fly to them and put a stop to their plans. This was before they moved to Michigan. Your mother and father were still in Florida at the time. I put my foot down and threatened to disown your mother if she didn’t change her mind. I’m not proud of my reaction, but I did it, so I need to own it.”

  “And what did she say?” I was genuinely curious.

  “She said she was pregnant with you and had no intention of walking away from your father.”

  “I see.” And, because I did, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Was that the last time you talked with her?”

  “No.” May’s answer took me by surprise. “You have to understand that I was feeling pretty sorry for myself around that time. I wasn’t a pleasant individual to begin with, so that only made matters worse. When your mother cut off contact for several months, I turned myself into a victim.”

  “Okay, but … .”

  May held up her hand to silence me. “We don’t have much time. I’m still getting used to my new reality, so my strength wanes. I want to get this part out before that happens. I can come back and discuss the rest later.”

  That sounded like a terrible idea, but I didn’t voice my concerns. “Okay.”

  “Your mother and I didn’t talk for months – and months and months – and when she finally called I thought it was because she wanted to apologize,” May explained. “But she didn’t. She wasn’t sorry. Honestly, she had nothing to be sorry about. I was the one in the wrong.”

  “So … what happened?”

  “Your mother called when she was in labor,” May replied, waiting a beat so the realization could wash over me. “She was in a lot of pain, and I think she knew something was about to go terribly wrong.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do,” May countered. “She was very excited for your arrival, but she wanted me to know a few things in case … well, in case she didn’t get to tell you certain things herself.”

  “Which she didn’t.”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  I worked overtime to tamp down my bitterness. “What did she tell you?”

  “She said t
hat I should let your father raise you if something happened, make sure you had a normal life and didn’t know about your heritage,” May answered. “She didn’t want you to know what you were. She thought you would be happier being normal.”

  I had no idea what to make of that. “I’m sorry, but … what?”

  “I wanted to do what Emma thought best, but as the years went on I had more and more trouble letting things be,” May said, her eyes clouding. “I tried talking to your father several times. I wanted to meet you. Each time he put me off.”

  “He would’ve told me that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I … .” I really wasn’t sure. I loved my father, but if he thought May would upend the quiet life we shared, he would’ve had no problem shutting her out.

  “It doesn’t matter now.” May’s eyes drifted toward the window. “I don’t have much time left right now. I can feel it. I have to get the rest of this out.”

  “What?”

  “I made the mistake of not standing by my daughter when she made a life decision,” May said. “I also made the mistake of listening to the orders she gave out of fear. She wanted you to have a normal life, but sometimes being normal isn’t the right way to go.”

  “I don’t understand what that means,” I pressed. “What’s the difference between normal and here?”

  May cackled, the question catching her off guard. “Oh, my dear, you have so much to learn. I’m looking forward to watching you learn it.”

  “That wasn’t really an answer,” I pressed.

  “It wasn’t, but it’s the only thing I have to give you at present,” May said. “I made many mistakes and you’ll have to pay for them. I’m sorry for that. Still, you have time to fix the mistakes I’ve made. I think you’re more than capable of that.”

  “And how will I do that?” I prodded. “How will I fix these so-called mistakes?”

  May’s eyes sparkled as she lost a bit of her luminosity. She was fading. “You’re a witch, dear. We can do anything.”

  I was convinced I’d heard her wrong. “Excuse me?”