by B. J. Smash
“I see.” I pictured him laying his head on one of the dogs for twenty minutes a night, always holding tightly to the bow and arrows just in case a trespasser showed up.
“Who would bother her?”
“There are a few that wish to harm her. It's hard to explain. Maybe another time. You must get to your aunt's café.”
Surprisingly, Ian was not at the gate, and Drumm had to let me through. After all, he was privileged enough to open the McCallister gate, and I was not. But I tried not to let it bother me—that I couldn’t open it for myself.
“See you tomorrow,” I said.
Drumm nodded his head.
I walked through the path of death and onto cherry tree lane. A brisk wind swept through the walkway, bringing blossoms with it. A whoosh sound carried throughout the treetops, and the limbs seemed to do a dance. The sun lay low in the sky, setting in pinkish hues and reminding me of cotton candy.
I had begun to jog to Ian's, but something didn’t seem right and I slowed to a walk. My skin prickled, and I felt like I was being watched. After a few more steps, I heard a tap-tap-tap of feet behind me, as though someone were on the path. I turned to find no one there. A gust of wind blew through the trees again, blowing hair into my eyes. I pulled it back, preparing to use the elastic I kept around my wrist, but I was sorely shocked to see someone standing in the path blocking my way.
I gasped, and my stomach clenched in fear, causing it to hurt for a few seconds.
Before me…stood Ian’s sister. Her face was alight with a sunny smile, and she wore the same yellow sundress as before. She was barefoot and her skin was as pale as flour.
“Hello,” I said uneasily.
She did not reply with words, but waved.
“How are you?” I said, not knowing what else to say.
She looked pleased but still did not say anything. She moved to the side and I slowly walked by. As I did so, the hair on my arms stood up on end.
“Have a nice evening,” I said, pleasantly.
When I finally passed her, I picked up speed, turning once to look over my shoulder. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, swinging her hips from side to side, watching me as I sped away.
Creepy. The girl was downright creepy. She looked young, too—younger than Ian by several years. I guess Old Sam had kids well into his fifties. He had to be in his nineties by now.
I had to wonder why she wouldn't speak to me. Maybe she was just shy. Regardless, she gave me the willies, and I hoped I would never run into her again.
Chapter Twelve
Aunt Clover insisted Aunt Cora stay and hang out with us for the evening. I thought for sure she'd decline, with all those new books she'd purchased today. Surprisingly she accepted.
We started out the evening making raspberry meringue pie and peanut butter cheesecake in the modern café kitchen. My aunts could cook, especially Aunt Cora. In my opinion, everything that she ever made could be presented to the proverbial gods.
Both aunts never used a cookbook for guidance, and they only had one giant book that they recorded their recipes in. It sat in the corner of the café kitchen covered in a layer of dust.
Aunt Clover suggested that we sit at a table in the dining area, and I agreed. “Let's light some candles out there for a soft and cozy atmosphere,” she said, and we proceeded to do so.
I took a piece of peanut butter cheesecake and sat at a table by the window. I had seen Magella's boat there when I'd arrived, and I wanted to keep an eye on it for a bit. From the few times I had been able to watch, no one had entered and no one had left.
Aunt Cora poured herself a generous helping of red wine into a large crystal wine goblet and sat beside me, setting her recorder on the table. She hadn't complained of any ailments all night, and I hadn't heard her document anything.
Aunt Clover soon followed and sat across from me. She had brought a platter with teacups, boiling water, and loose tea.
“Let's have us a good tea reading tonight,” she said.
A single light over the stove in the kitchen remained on, leaving the candles as our main source of light and giving the place a cozy, relaxed feeling. The candle flames cast shadows upon the walls, flickering back and forth appearing as though they were ghosts dancing on the walls.
The thought of a tea-leaf reading added a sense of the mystical and mysterious. Had it been any other night, I would have enjoyed myself.
But circumstances wouldn't allow it. I knew what I had to do soon. I had to steal a rolling pin. The thought of theft bothered me—it gnawed at me—but I had to do it. My father's return depended upon it. Besides, Magella shouldn't have stolen it from Izadora to begin with. I still didn't like it.
“When it cools down, drink the tea, ladies,” Aunt Clover said.
I hoped that by one o'clock, Aunt Cora would have left and Aunt Clover would be sound asleep in bed. If not, I'd have to insist that I wanted to be alone to take a short walk and stretch my legs. It wasn't much of a plan, but I'd have to get to Magella's boat regardless.
A short while later, after they chatted about buying a new oven for the café, and me staring out the window at Magella's boat, Aunt Clover said, “Let's drink the tea now, girls, leaving a tiny bit in the bottom. Think about something that is on your mind as you are drinking it. Otherwise it doesn't work well.”
She was a master of all things occult. Tea readings, tarot card readings, angel readings, aura readings, palm readings—you name it, she did it. She never claimed to be psychic; however, she had an uncanny way of reading the signs, and being pretty accurate about it.
“You girls are right-handed, so hold the cup with the left hand, put your right hand over the top, and twirl it twice to the right and three times to the left. Then tip the cup over onto the saucer and let the remaining juice drain, then turn it back over and set it on the table,” said Aunt Clover.
We did as she told us.
“Who goes first?” asked Aunt Clover.
“You go first, Aunt Cora,” I said. I could tell by the way she sat on the edge of her seat that she couldn't possibly wait. She pulled her silky brown hair behind her ears.
Being an attractive thirty-eight-year-old woman, you'd think Aunt Cora would have a husband by now, a fiancé, or even a boyfriend. For as long as I could remember, she'd had none of those. The town was small, but there had to be men here and in the surrounding areas. Tons of people came to the café. However, it never occurred to me that there could be a good reason for her lack of interest in finding someone.
“Okay, if you really want me to.” She shot us an impish grin, and wrung her hands in anticipation; as if this tea reading would answer all of her questions. And then she wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt and leaned in toward the teacup.
“I see here”—Aunt Clover tipped the tea cup one way and then another—“a turtle. That usually means success is slow but sure to come.”
“Yes, go on. Continue,” Aunt Cora said.
“I see the symbol for good fortune: a horseshoe. And, well, look right here…”
She held the cup up to Aunt Cora, and a big smile spread across her face.
“It looks like a man's head,” said Aunt Cora. “Maybe he'll change. Maybe he'll come back to me.”
“Oh, Cora. You need to let him go. He's gone,” said Aunt Clover.
“There is always a chance they will let him return.” Aunt Cora's face turned as red as her wine.
Squirming in my chair, I asked, “Who?”
Both aunts turned to me as if they had forgotten I was there. “Your Aunt Cora lost someone about twelve years ago. He was—” Aunt Clover said.
Oh my! I thought for sure she was going to tell me he was dead. And so, what Aunt Cora said next—really freaked me out.
“Taken away. He was taken away,” Aunt Cora said, her eyes glazing over as she stared at a candle flame.
All I could think of, was my aunts old boyfriend was taken to an insane asylum or something. What did she mean by “taken away”?
Not wanting to bring up too many memories of the past, I asked in a soft tone, “Who took him?”
Aunt Cora let out a long sigh, not answering me.
“It was a long time ago. We don't need to discuss it any further,” Aunt Clover said firmly. Then a smile spread across her face. “Your turn, Ivy.”
It explained a lot...and I think I had it figured out. He hadn’t been insane. My Aunt Cora pined for a man that was taken from her by another woman. I felt sorry for her, but if he had been taken by another woman, why not let him go? She should just get over him and move on.
Picking up Aunt Cora's teacup, I did in fact see the turtle. Turning it to the side, I saw the horseshoe, and slightly turning it more, I saw the outline of a man's profile: the nose, the lips. But there was also something else that caught my eye at the rim, and I started to say as much. “There also looks like a—”
“Put the cup down now, Ivy. Never mind—” Aunt Clover whispered.
Aunt Cora, taking a long haul from her wine glass, didn't miss the exchange. “What? Is there something else you see in there?”
The ends of her mouth sagged, and I felt the pressure to tell her. “It looks like a plant…like a daisy or something.”
She looked at Aunt Clover and said, “What does that mean?”
Aunt Clover gave a long sigh and said, “It means you will reap what you sow. But I didn't want to say anything—”
“Oh, holy hell! You weren't going to tell me? I knew it! They'll come for me too.” She smacked herself on the forehead.
I had no idea what she could be talking about, but I gripped the edge of my chair as though I might fall out of it. Perhaps he had been insane after all! What the heck was going on?
“No one is coming for you. Just relax,” Aunt Clover said, waving her hand to dismiss the conversation.
“Never mind, the past is the past. I'm all set.” Aunt Cora tipped her wine glass and drank, and then she said, “And to me, the flower means I should pay more attention to my lilies. They are being attacked by the morning glory vines. I can't have that, now can I?” And she tipped the glass for yet, another sip of wine.
Confused, I wanted to ask who could possibly be coming for her. But I decided against it; I didn't want to upset her further.
“Let's read yours now.” Aunt Clover smiled at me. She peered in the cup, leaning in then back out. She wrinkled her nose up and set the cup back down.
“Yours doesn't look so promising, but this is just for fun, after all.” She gave me a reassuring smile.
“Just lay it on me. What does it say?” I sighed.
“Well, this here looks like linking circles…signifying a chain, or chain of events.” She turned the cup sideways. “And this adjacent symbol goes along with it. A dagger or knife—probably a knife, which means a hidden enemy. But I can't imagine that you would have any enemies, Ivy. You’re such a sweet girl.” She stopped to squint and observe the next symbol. “The dots you see here might symbolize a journey of sorts. Anyway, then we have what looks like…well, I don't know…” But I knew she did.
“Can I see it?” She handed me the cup. I picked up a candle to get the best light possible, and looked at the cup in many different angles. I could see the circles, the knife, and the dots, and then I looked at what she must have seen. Wax dripped on my hand, but I didn't even feel it.
“That symbol is a coffin,” I said blankly. “What does it mean?”
“Well, I don't know that it's a coffin, but that would mean…death of something. Perhaps the death of something to allow something else to begin.”
“And this next picture looks like a cobra. What does that mean?”
“Danger, to you or someone you know.”
“I have all warning symbols,” I stated.
“Ohhh.” Aunt Cora sighed as though life were such a bother.
“Just take it easy, and don't do anything out of the ordinary. Everything will be fine. Besides, it is just a tea reading. Nothing is ever written in stone,” said Aunt Clover.
“No. Nothing ever is, is it?” I said sarcastically, knowing that I would be doing just what she warned against: something out of the ordinary.
“Anyway, let's go play the piano upstairs. This is depressing.” Aunt Cora and the wine bottle both disappeared into the kitchen and up the stairs to the apartment.
“C'mon. We might as well do what she wants or she'll sulk all evening,” Aunt Clover said.
Taking one last look out the window, I couldn't believe my eyes. The wind had picked up, it had begun to rain, and the houseboat swayed on the water. But what really got me was that a girl was coming out the door of Magella's houseboat. By the time she climbed onto the dock and stepped on the asphalt, I knew who it was. My sister.
I ran to the front door, unlocked it, and peered out. She had disappeared. “Zinnia!” I yelled. Rain splashed my face.
Aunt Clover walked back into the dining area. “Zinnia is at Becky's, sweetheart. Lock the door and come on upstairs.”
“But I just saw her!” I yelled. “And she is not at Becky's!” I wiped my face on my shirtsleeve.
My aunt looked at me funny, making me feel like a fool. “It's not too late. Let’s just call over there and see.” She dialed the phone and handed it to me.
Becky picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Becky, this is Ivy. Have you seen Zinnia tonight?” I thought I knew exactly what she would say. I was wrong.
“Yeah, she's, um…she is here, but you can't talk to her. She’s, um…taking a bath.”
“Oh really?” I said.
“Maybe she can call you back, but I don't know how long she's going to be in there. She put a lot of bubbles in.”
“No thanks. I'll see her later. Bye.” I smiled at Aunt Clover as though everything were just fine.
“Bye,” Becky said and hung up the phone.
I handed Aunt Clover back the phone and said, “You were right. She's at Becky's.” Nothing I could do or say would convince her otherwise. If she called Becky herself, she'd get the same answer.
“See, I told you!” She turned and ran up the stairs.
I had no idea why just this morning Becky complained of not seeing Zinnia for over a week, but all of a sudden she was covering for her. I had just seen my sister; I knew she wasn't at Becky's. So, why all of a sudden did Becky feel the need to cover up for her? And what was Zinnia up to?
She had been acting funny lately, barely eating. She looked gaunt and pale all the time, almost sickly. She had put something in my tea to make me sleep, and now she had a new “friend,” Magella.
Izadora had been right; they were in cahoots together. Zinnia had accepted some sort of offer from her.
I ran upstairs to Aunt Clover's apartment to find Aunt Cora banging away at the piano keys. Her head swayed, and she belted out the words as though she were at a concert of her own. Then she stopped to laugh.
She made me and Aunt Clover sit on the piano bench and sing for a while. At one point Aunt Cora banged the keys, tilted back and almost fell off the bench.
Then she decided to share a lovely story with us—one I could have done without.
“Imagine taking three Ex-Lax in the evening and waking up to nothing. You get called in to work, even though it's your day off. On the way there, you get into a car accident. Just then, it hits you. You have to use the restroom, but you’re stuck there with the person you hit, and a cop. Imagine that. Wouldn't that be awful?”
Aunt Clover and I exchanged looks. Aunt Cora always had what-if scenarios from hell. Sometimes she really got you thinking, and made you count your blessings.
Aunt Cora smiled. “It happened to me once. I had to run into the trees. A mosquito bit me on the bum and I thought I caught something from it. Gangrene? No, not that…Dengue feverrr.”
“Okay, where are your keys? You're not driving home tonight,” Aunt Clover said with a long sigh.
“They are right there,” Aunt Cora said, pointing to the wall.
“In my purse.” She focused and pointed to her purse on the couch.
Aunt Clover took out the keys and brought them to her room. When she returned, she had blankets for the couches.
“If it's all the same to you, Ivy, I'm going to hit the hay. I've had a long day,” said Aunt Clover.
“Sure, that's fine.” Phew! She wanted to go to bed. I'd be able to sneak out without any problems.
She helped Aunt Cora to one of the couches and then covered her with a blanket. I hopped on the other couch and covered myself up to my chin.
“Aren't you going to change into pajamas? Brush your teeth?” Aunt Clover asked me.
I knew she wouldn’t leave it alone, and she’d end up brushing my teeth for me if I didn’t move. So, I got up and went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. While I was in there, Aunt Clover walked by the bathroom door. Speaking loudly she said, “Good night! See you in the morning.”
After a few minutes, I came out and lay on the couch. I hadn't bothered to change into pajamas. She wouldn't be back out again.
The lights were off, and I waited patiently for Aunt Cora to fall asleep. Before she nodded off, she started babbling about something, but it caught my attention right away.
“I never should have sent him in there. He'd still be here.”
“What are you talking about, Aunt Cora?”
She lay on her stomach, with her cheek to the pillow, eyes closed, and an arm dangled over the couch. “He went in.”
“Where?”
“That place. The woods.”
My heart sped up. “Who, Aunt Cora?”
She began to lightly snore, but I still prodded her.
“Who went into the woods, Aunt Cora?” I asked again, slightly louder.
She stirred. The only thing that moved was her lips.
“My love. He went in for my lovey.”
And then she was out.
***
The time had come. I stood at the doorway of Aunt Clover and Aunt Cora's café, my hand on the glass doorknob, my feet planted firmly on the wooden floor. Could I really pull this off? I had never had the bravado of some people.
