by Angela White
Patty’s shop had two large rooms merged together to create a small library with a few seats for those who wanted to read their book right away. She also kept coffee out. I thought all the rugs and paintings made it very cheery.
At first, Patty ignored me when I came in. I wandered the dusty, strange tombs and relics, and she stayed behind her counter, writing or dealing with the occasional customer. It was as if she hadn’t driven me to school and revealed that we were both special.
After a week of peeks and glances, she finally approached me. It was a good thing, because I hadn’t figured out a way to bring up what I wanted from her.
“I have cookies.”
I glanced up from the book of Indian lore in true surprise. Patty usually ushered everyone out for her noon break. I’d been getting ready to leave. “Sure.”
I followed Patty into the rear of the store, noticing she didn’t bother to flip her sign over. The townspeople knew she would be closed for an hour. It was how all the shops here operated.
The rear of Patty’s store was her home. I hadn’t realized that and I stared in surprise at the Indian-decorated rooms. There were paintings of maidens and warriors, some clearly from real subjects. There were dreamcatchers, headdresses, and feathery objects that I didn’t have names for. I spotted knives and axes, tomahawks and spears. I expected to find such a collection in the store itself, not hidden back here.
Patty motioned to her small kitchen table and I sat down while still staring at the furnishings. One corner of the bedroom that I could glimpse through the narrow hallway held an actual teepee. The leather was piled in a corner, but because it was so tall, it seemed like it was set up to me. I could easily imagine a family like those in the pictures living in it, caring for each other. I was impressed by the Indians that I’d been reading about. The tribe cared for everyone–well, most of them. I wouldn’t want to be a part of some tribes, but most of the natives loved their camp members. They treated their elderly with respect and the men could be trusted. Those ideals appealed to me.
“Milk?”
I nodded, waiting for her to start the conversation. I expected questions about my home life or even Mother Brady.
“I could use someone to sweep the walk out front a couple times a week,” Patty stated. “More when the leaves are everywhere.”
A job. Would Georgie like that? I flashed to one of his fights with my mom.
“Get a damn job, woman, or work for me! Earn those ugly skirts!”
“Thank you,” I stated, trying to keep it from my voice. I really didn’t want to talk about my home life.
“Come by after school. I’ll pay you when you’ve finished each day.”
“Cool,” I agreed happily. Georgie would take most of it, but I would at least get a quarter for my morning milk.
“Maybe you should tell your family the wrong number,” Patty offered lightly.
I considered that, understanding what she meant from the images in her mind. I wasn’t snooping, but she didn’t have a wall up right now, so it didn’t feel wrong to search a little.
“It’s not,” Patty confirmed, sitting down with her coffee. “Digging is where that crosses a line.”
“Okay.” I had no problem accepting her instructions. She wasn’t shouting or telling me that I was useless.
“And I won’t!” Patty growled lowly. “Damn animals.”
I liked her for that and I thought that maybe I could be brave enough to lie to Georgie about how much money I got. I wouldn’t hold much back, but if I could keep saving until I was grown up, I might have enough to leave.
Patty’s face glowed with a satisfaction that I didn’t understand. I was too busy exploring the options a job would give me and didn’t question her over it.
“Have another cookie,” Patty pushed.
I could hear her thinking I needed to gain some weight and I took a second cookie hesitantly. I really didn’t like sweets much.
“There are some rules about working for me,” Patty said. “But they’re not hard. And when you’re older, you can have a better job in the shop if I’m doing well enough to afford it.”
I felt like crying. I wasn’t used to people being nice and my sudden wariness spilled out as I blurted, “Until you can’t use me for anything else, right?”
Patty’s expression went through several changes while I waited tensely for a shout or even a blow.
Patty stood up and limped down the hall toward her bedroom, sending a wave of cool air over me. My first thought was that she wanted a belt and I trembled. Did I have to take it from her too? I’d been taught not to disrespect those older than me.
Patty came back with a large book instead and I tried to relax.
“I’m sorry.”
Patty wore a hurt expression as she said, “So am I, child.”
She put the book in front of me. “I want you to read that. If you have trouble with the words, I’ll help you.”
I glanced at the title. “How to defend myself?”
“You won’t be able to do much until you’re bigger, but at least you’ll know how, when that time comes.”
I scanned the book as she took her seat and started on her cookies and coffee. It was a long time before I looked up.
When I did, Patty was back out in the shop. I waited until she was alone to join her. The thoughts from the book were swirling in my brain, tempting me to think of something I’d never done. Fighting back.
Patty didn’t say anything as the last customer filed out and I wasn’t sure how to thank her for her kindnesses. Sweeping wasn’t enough.
“I’ll come by tomorrow.”
Patty locked her register and then flipped the sign in the window.
That got my attention. I hadn’t realized it was so late and I hurried home, hoping I beat Georgie. I liked to be in my room when he pulled into the driveway.
Luck was with me as I slipped into the trailer without my mom hearing me. I’d done my chores before I left, but she probably had a new list for me by now.
A few minutes later, I heard Georgie arrive and I buried myself in the homework that I’d already finished, in case he stopped by my door. He sometimes did, peering in at me with cruel, needy leers that I never knew how to handle.
How to defend yourself.
The book came to mind and I spent the rest of the evening dwelling on it. So much that I got cuffed in the ear for letting my cup overflow while pouring the milk. It didn’t matter. Patty had implanted a new, dangerous idea in my young brain and it stuck with me throughout the misery. Eventually, at some point, I would be able to defend myself and then no one would ever be able to hurt me again. I would live for that. Someday, I would be free.
The rest of those long months without Marc didn’t fly by, but I did like working for Patty. The family, to my surprise, didn’t care that I now had a job. It kept me busy and out of trouble. After I finished sweeping the walk, she always had me come in and cool down, and then gave me cookies with icy milk. We would look through whatever book had caught my attention and she spent hours trying to explain the meanings to me. For some reason, I had an extreme interest in survival and preparing for bad situations. I was drawn to those titles above the others.
I flew through the book on self-defense and the remaining three in the series that she gave me. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but as I got older, I realized Patty couldn’t afford to buy those books and no one had ordered them. Patty was great like that. She actually cared about me.
In the fall of 1991, Patty ordered a book called One Hundred Ways to Survive. I was enrapt from the instant she opened the box. I spent the next three weeks reading and searching the list of words that I hadn’t understood. Once I finished, I read it all again. It became my favorite book in her shop and it was always available when I wanted it.
I learned a lot of things from the novels in her shop, things that I didn’t know were important until after I’d researched my list of the words. One of those things wa
s how to control the voice inside. I hadn’t known that was possible. I thought we were supposed to be fighting.
The witch didn’t like listening to me. When she got angry, bad things happened and I was always fighting her for the lead. Patty directed me to a book called Myths of Witchcraft, and I learned that if I threatened the demon with locking her up forever, I could get control. It wasn’t easy, but the witch and I came to an agreement after that.
“Some people are born different,” Patty told me that day. “It doesn’t make them good or bad. You understand?”
“I think so.” I glanced at her warily. “Like me.”
Patty patted my hand. “Yes, like you. You’re not evil. You’re different.”
I stewed on that as she got our cookies. The drinks were already on the table in front of me. Patty had been very careful not to spook me on this subject, but by August, I wasn’t afraid of her telling on me anymore. She had more reason to hate the Brady’s than I did. Mary Brady owned the mortgage on the shop. Whatever that was, it gave Patty bad headaches.
“Can you tell me why?” I asked finally.
Patty sat the plate between us and took her seat. “Sometimes there just is no reason for things,” she stated gently. “You’ve learned that already, I think.”
I had. Georgie’s attention had no reason. I didn’t understand what drove him, and I didn’t want to.
“And sometimes, it can be because fate has plans for you.”
“What kind of plans?” I asked nervously. Even at my age, I knew that word. Fate was often cursed in our house and I was usually the reason why.
“Some people do great things as they grow.”
“And bad things too, right?” I needed to confirm.
“Yes,” Patty answered, staring at an old picture on the wall. “Sometimes people are as bad as they come, no matter what fate tries to offer instead.”
It gave me hope to think that fate could also offer good things. I ate a cookie and drank some of my milk, pondering.
Patty waited for me to be ready. She sipped her tea and nursed a sweet, but her eyes stayed on me in concern. I knew what she was worried over, why she’d felt the need to bring this up now. I’d been wilder while Marc was gone this time. Like when I’d rushed in front of the tractor to save our flag or tossed rotten eggs at Mary Brady’s car over her petition to ban Halloween. Those were only two of the littlest ways that I was acting out. The loneliness was making me reckless.
“Yes, you are,” Patty agreed, trying not to sound scolding even though I needed it.
I thought about lying to her. I could hide things mentally. I knew how to keep a secret, but it wasn’t needed. Patty understood. “I’ll try harder.”
“You could practice your gift. That would keep your speedy little brain occupied.”
I gaped, mouth open.
Patty chuckled a little. “Your mind may be able to hide things, little one, but your face gives you away every time. Always stick to the truth.”
I immediately became determined to conquer that weakness.
Patty studied me slyly, sipping her tea.
After a few minutes of drinking and crunching, I was ready for the next level of questions. “What can you do?”
“So smart!” Patty patted my hand again. “In my youth, as much as you and more. Now? I can teach if you like.”
I beamed at her offer. “Thanks!”
Patty froze as my innocent pleasure trapped her in a haze that demanded she please me again. I’d had this happen before and I immediately refocused on thoughts of school. It had a sobering effect that snapped the hold I had on her mind.
Patty blinked, slowly coming back to herself. She knew what had happened. She was just used to being on the other side of it.
The gypsy woman muttered, rising, and disappeared into one of the rear rooms again.
I followed to apologize, but also to make sure that she was okay. Patty’s hallway held so many photos that I was distracted halfway through. Once I realized they were in chronological order, I realized I was following her life. It was mesmerizing.
The photo that held me the longest was the largest one. I recognized the main street of town, though in the image, it was a dirt road and people were riding horses. There was damage everywhere, and a tornado had been drawn in deep, black circles that gave it an evil life.
“I lost my dad that day.”
I jumped. Patty was right next to me.
Patty didn’t notice, staring at the images on the canvas in pain. “We didn’t have alarms.”
I’d always thought the siren was loud and scary, but it gave me a chill to view them through Patty’s sight. Alarms might have saved her family.
“Maybe,” she muttered, answering my thought without realizing it this time. “Except the tornado didn’t kill him. A Brady did.”
Patty glanced down at my shocked face. “I was hoping you knew which one, at first. That’s why I befriended you.”
I shrugged at her confession and delivered one of my own. “I hoped you’d teach me stuff. That’s why I let you. I’m sorry that I don’t know anything about your past.”
Patty gaped at me and my giggles floated through the hallway shrine, calming old ghosts.
I turned back to the picture, to what had grabbed my attention. “Is that Mary behind the trees? Helping clean?”
“Yes, child. She was once a member of our town. She bled with us, lived and died with us. When her husband…took off, she changed.”
It was interesting to know. From my inside view, I didn’t think that could be true. The woman I knew didn’t have a heart at all.
“That’s what happens when it gets ripped out,” Patty informed me, leading us back to the table. “Losing your love is almost worse than dying.”
“How can that be?”
“Because you have to live every day without them.”
“Oh…” I winced as I realized she probably knew that because it had happened to her. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I, all these years later,” Patty admitted. She took a deep breath. “But that is the past. This, my young friend, is the future.”
I hadn’t seen a real crystal ball before and I was immediately disappointed. That tiny little globe wasn’t anything like what I’d imagined.
“I had the same thoughts myself when I first beheld the magic in physical form,” Patty told me. “But a small package wrapped in boring colors can sometimes be a priceless treasure.”
I knew she meant more than just the ball, but I was too young to follow it any further.
“Are you going to search my future?” I asked eagerly. Being certain that it held something better than what I was surviving through now, was information that I needed. My witch couldn’t do that very much yet.
“Yes, but more than just yours. I’m going to search for the future of the town.” Patty glanced over. “I’ll need help. I’m a bit old for this.”
I put my hand out for the ball, sensing this was what she had wanted all along.
“When it glows, tell me what you see,” Patty instructed, but I didn’t hear her. The feel of the small wooden frame in my hand was alien, and the clear orb in the center didn’t react. I didn’t like it.
I let the ball thump to the table and wiped my hands on my dress. As I did, a new door appeared in my mind and swung wide open.
“Imprinter!”
Patty’s word meant nothing to me as I mentally approached the open door. Gray fog rolled out and covered my boots.
“What do you see, child?”
I didn’t want to speak. I was trying to concentrate on keeping the door open and I grabbed her wrist, linking us. Other than Marc, I’d never done this with anyone.
I peered through the foggy door…and it exploded.
When I woke, Patty was sitting at the table. I was on her couch, covered in a sweet-smelling quilt.
“What happened?”
“We saw more than the future of this town.” Patty was digging through a
stack of books on the table next to her. “You should rest.”
“Does the world blow up?” I asked fearfully, heart thumping. “Is that the fire?”
“Something like it, maybe.” She didn’t glance up from her research. “When you feel strong enough, we have to get you home.”
I realized it was almost dusk and clumsily leapt to my feet. Georgie would be home any minute!
“Thank you!” I shouted as I staggered through her door. Even the end of the world wasn’t going to make me late. He would use the belt this time.
Behind me, I heard Patty mutter, but I was most of the way home before the words sank in.
“Is she supposed to stop it, start it, or survive it?”
Chapter Seven
Gratitude
August to December
Marc
Now that I was living on the farm, I took a different bus to the same school. I went through my classes with longing for the afternoon, like the other kids that I served time with. I didn’t like comparing Jr high school to a jail when Angie asked, but it was hard not to. Being a male didn’t make it any easier. I ended up in fights to prove my manhood to people who didn’t even understand the definition of the word. I argued with teachers who thought kids should be seen and not heard unless they were in advanced placement classes. I tolerated my friends and wished my brother had already graduated so that I didn’t have to deal with him. I hadn’t liked it when my brothers lived at home. We weren’t the same type of sons. My older brothers were ‘yes men’ to my mother’s face and utterly useless. I didn’t know what part of the family business they were responsible for, but I was willing to bet it wasn’t doing well.
Thanksgiving came and went with a nice breakfast feast on the farm and an afternoon of wonderfully cool swimming at the hole, but no call from my mother or a visit, which meant no way to sneak to town to the cornfield or clubhouse.
For months, we baled hay to be ready for the winter. I grew lean and hard under those conditions, something I was proud of. When I had to run in gym class, it wasn’t a problem anymore. Pushups? No sweat. Chin up bar? Kiss my ass, I’ve got it beat. The other kids I hung around with at school hated that.
