“Hi, I’m Nancy Darling, married to Ned Darling, who runs a private practice in Tonston. My twins, Zoe and Chloe, are both overachievers, gifted in piano, common core math and pre-gymnastics. The little tykes fulfill me completely, of course, but even I need some me time.”
More minutes passed.
Bored stiff, Kela abandoned the dramatics entirely and plopped down against the tree trunk, popping in her headphones and turning on her music. She could see just as easily from this vantage point, and with her phone handy, she could quickly shoot Alex a text if Yvette returned.
Several black birds gathered at her feet, but no one else arrived. Soon, the heat of the day and her late night antics caught up to her. Her eyelids slid shut and soon she was snoring along with her playlist.
Yvette passed right by, walking up to her front door, laden with Couture Kitty shopping bags.
TEN
(BAYLEE)
I returned to The Little Tea Pot, slinking to my chair.
Dave sat across from me, hands folded, saying nothing. There was a lukewarm cup of tea waiting for me, and I drank it in a single long swallow, wishing it was something a bit stronger.
“I apologize for my hasty departure,” I said. “I know it sounds crazy, but I was sure that homeless man was Ryan.”
I grabbed the teapot and poured another cup, my hands shaking so terribly I could hardly keep hold of it.
Dave handed me a blueberry scone. “I don’t think it’s crazy. I still see my ex.”
“You do?”
“Yes. She appears on the first of every month to pick up her alimony check.”
I laughed, swatting him with my embroidered napkin. “You’re some help, Dave Cullins.” I teased.
“Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
He reached across the table and laid his fingers gently on my wrists. A feeling of calm spread through me. I relaxed against the chair, reasoning it all out.
“I just don’t know why this happened now. It’s been nearly three years. I’ve been through all five stages of grief. According to an article in Modern Psychology, I’m through the grieving process.”
Dave’s smile was both tight and tender. “Baylee, I don’t think we ever get over losing someone we love. And correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the last stage of grief acceptance? If you’re still the same person I remember, the one thing you have difficulty accepting is acceptance.”
He folded my gloved-hand in his own. His comforting touch quickly turned to feelings of guilt, especially after my Near-Ryan-Experience. Nothing in the article had warned me against that.
“I have a question for you… as a reporter,” I said, delicately extricating my hand from his.
“Yeah?”
“Have you heard of any strange lights over Bog Hollow?”
“No.” His eyes narrowed as a notepad appeared out of nowhere. “How strange are these lights?”
I nibbled on my scone, savoring each bite.
“Very strange. Dave, I had the oddest meeting with a woman this afternoon.” I recounted Laura’s story in detail, including the list of names I had now committed to memory, concluding with the visions brought on by the letter and photo.
“We haven’t had much of a newspaper around here the last few years, but I’ll check the old files. Maybe someone reported something. I can also ask around at the police station.”
A waitress sporting long black hair with purple tips passed by with a tray of shortbread cookies. Her eyes met mine and she scowled. She moved on, without offering me a sample.
“I didn’t want shortbread anyway!” I said, louder than necessary.
Dave removed his laptop from his messenger bag and began researching. After several minutes, he looked up.
“I’m not finding much. One of the women did have a Facebook account, though. Look familiar?”
A picture of Carrie Brighton smiled back. She looked tired but happy. Her last post was dated nearly a year ago. There were no contacts on the page, no friendships established, not even a family member.
“How curious.”
“Definitely strange,” Dave agreed, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he scoured her older entries. An anonymous user had left a photo of a full moon on her page only a few months ago, with the caption: “Thank you for your sacrifice.” The poster’s account had since been closed.
I finished the last bite of my scone. “I never even tried to look Carrie up,” I said.
“None of us did.”
“But she was my best friend, and I just let her go. I’m so good at letting things go.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
“Sure, Dave, hit me when I’m already down.”
“I was referring to that peacock brooch you’re wearing. You’ve had that since the fourth grade. You swiped it from your mother, if I remember right?”
“Oh!”
I laughed. I had taken it from my mother’s jewelry box, and then worn it only to school and never at home for fear of discovery. I’d had it so long that I had forgotten its origin.
“Now, back to the topic at hand. We have strange lights and disappearing women, including your old friend.” Dave slipped his laptop back into his messenger bag. “I don’t like this, Baylee. There are a lot of crazy people in the world. You could be getting set up.”
“You sound like my brother.”
“I hope you don’t see me like your brother.”
“No, you’re much shorter than Alex.”
“Just what every man wants to hear from a beautiful woman.”
Beautiful?
I felt myself redden and I pretended to look for the sweetener, to distract myself from his amused gaze.
“I see you still don’t like compliments.”
“Actually, it’s nice, really. I’d forgotten what it’s like to get a genuinely kind word from someone I’m not related to.”
Dave leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head, his hazel eyes twinkling. The image transported me to a time long before dead parents and missing husbands.
“Do you remember grumpy old Mr. Vasco who lived out by the river?” I asked. “I heard he’s a birthday party clown now.”
“Didn’t he hate kids?”
“Yes! Remember when he threw your Frisbee in the water?”
“I thought he was going to throw me in the water!”
We finished the entire pot of tea and ordered another, laughing as we relived episodes from our childhood. “Thank you, Dave. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had so much fun.”
“Me either. Let’s toast - to old memories and creating new ones.”
We raised our teacups.
As our china clinked, I recalled another image from an early morning over a decade ago: Dave had taken his father’s rowboat without permission. We felt like Bonnie and Clyde as we glided on the glassy lake at dawn, reveling in our youth and the future that awaited us.
We ended the boat ride by bumping together our plastic cups filled with cheap wine, followed by a long kiss.
And then a question: Baylee, will you…
I bit my lip at the memory.
Dave had slipped a cheap ring on my finger, promising something bigger soon. We stayed together all day and the entire night, half-naked and wild with the call of impending adulthood. Everything seemed possible then. But nothing worked out the way we’d imagined.
“What were you thinking?” Dave asked, pulling me back to the present.
The proposal memory was supplanted by the image of Ryan’s worn jacket.
“Nothing,” I said. “I have to go.” I stood up, knocking over my teacup. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Baylee, wait!”
I threw money on the table and dashed out the door once again, this time not running to someone but from someone.
It was all too surreal.
I needed to go home, to get back to my work sorting and cataloging the antique shop, where things were comfortable and s
afe. There, the only surprises were how much people thought their old stuff was actually worth.
As I rushed down the sidewalk, the wind picked up and heavy clouds advanced on the town. It was going to rain.
Outside The Aunt-Tea-Query I spotted my mother’s flickering image, her face drained of color.
“Baylee, come quick!” she said. “It’s Alex. There’s been an accident!”
ELEVEN
Mother’s face was whiter than a ghost’s. Literally.
She sobbed dramatically as she ascended the front steps. “Alex…my baby!” she wailed, the tail end of her voice stolen by the wind.
“What is it?” I demanded, trying to catch her by the shoulders. When she wouldn’t respond, I left her and raced inside. The cafe was completely empty.
“Alex!” I called.
“In here!” My cousin, Kela, called back from the antique shop.
Alex sat doubled-over at my desk. Ella, the prickly woman from The Little Tea Pot, loomed over him, her fingers outstretched and grasping. Kela stood near the window, holding a covered basket close to her chest.
I gently pushed Ella aside and knelt before my brother. “Are you alright?”
“I was fine until this crazy lady came charging in here, demanding this case of rings. She said they were stolen from her.” He straightened up, revealing the case tucked into his lap. “Can you get her out of here, Bay? She’s giving me a headache.”
“A headache?” I asked, confused. His pupils were dilated and his face was damp, but he appeared fine, otherwise. “I heard there was an accident.”
Ella snatched at the case as Alex covered it again with his body. “There will be an accident if you don’t return the rings,” she said. “They belong to me and my family. Give them back!”
I still had no idea what was happening. I looked from Ella, then back to Alex.
“Mom said you were hurt!”
“Hurt? Was she talking about my toe? Damn it, Mom!” he yelled, swiveling his neck around. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need you calling for my little sister just because I stepped on a rake.”
My mother materialized beside me, her hair fluffed out like a lion’s mane, as if she’d just touched a live socket. “It was a rusty rake,” she corrected. “Tell him it could be infected. He needs ointment.”
I slammed my hand on to my desk. Hard. “Stop it. All of you. I need order. Now!”
“But-”
“No buts, Mother! Go away.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Uh, Baylee.” Alex looked at me and then nodded towards Ella.
I’d been caught arguing with my dead mother.
Ella waddled towards me, stopping just short of Mother’s spirit-form. “Smells like Vivian,” she announced, wrinkling her nose. “You should smudge this room.”
We hardly breathed as Ella scratched at her chin. Her eyes shifted beneath her spectacles, darting about. “I swore I saw your mother floating around my bed the other night. That old face of hers gives me nightmares. But if anyone would spend their afterlife haunting people, it would be Vivi. You couldn’t ignore her in life, and I doubt she’d shut up in death, either.”
“Excuse me!”
Mom puffed out her chest and took a step forward, a challenge Ella did not notice.
“You knew Aunt Viv?” Kela interrupted, her arms still wrapped tightly around the basket.
“I knew her too well.” Ella nodded. “We were in a coven together, a long time past.”
“A coven?” I shot mother a questioning glance. Though she had spoken of our magickal lineage, she had never confessed to being a practitioner herself.
“It was before I met your father,” Mom admitted, lowering her head. “I was young and hoped it would help boost my acting career. It was a time in my life I tried to forget. We should probably keep this from your father.”
I returned my attention to Ella.
“Please tell us more. It may help clear some things up.”
Ella slumped against the edge of the desk. She exhaled slowly, then recounted her tale. “It was a magical time, known as The 70s. There were thirteen of us in the coven, as I recall.” Her eyes skated to the bay window, and Mother’s followed. “I don’t remember all the girls that year,” Ella continued, “but I never forget abilities.” She sighed, dropping her chin to her chest. “It was a good collection of talents. But of that group, there are only a few of us left. Seems like yesterday.”
“Auntie Vivi practiced witchcraft,” Kela repeated. “That’s so cool.”
Mom smiled. “Bay Leaf, tell Kela I said thank you, and that she’s my favorite niece.”
I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
My mother?
The woman who wouldn’t help Daddy with his crossword puzzle for fear of emasculating him, was a working witch?
Alex spoke for both of us. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”
“Oh, Alex, covens are just gatherings for a common purpose,” Kela said. “It’s not that strange.”
I looked to Ella. “We’d love to know about our mother’s history. Perhaps you could come by for tea sometime this week.”
“Or, you could just ask me,” Mom said.
Despite her age, Ella paced gracefully in front of the desk, her veined hands on her hip. “I won’t be coming by for tea. I just want my rings. Alba had no right to give them to you.”
“Alba?”
“My sister, the old bog witch! She was always jealous of my things. Our mum gave the rings to me, and Alba never got over it. They’re mine!”
I looked at the case still tucked in Alex’s lap. “You’re not going to give it to this crazy woman, are you?” he asked.
“We’ll see.”
I very deliberately removed only my right glove, placing it on my desk. Alex handed me the ring case, and I focused on the image of the long silver braid walking away from the shop.
Almost immediately, I was seized by an image that wasn’t mine: two little girls trying on their mother’s jewelry in front of a vanity.
“How do I look?” one girl asked, flashing a ring-covered hand.
The other girl snorted and turned her face towards the mirror, adjusting her hair. “It doesn’t matter how many of Mum’s things you put on, she still loves me best.”
“What a wicked thing to say!”
“It’s true.” She pulled out a tube of red lipstick and smeared it across her lips. A dark gleam shone in her eye. “You’ll never get any of it, Ella. I’ll make sure of that.”
The memory dissolved and I was once again standing at my desk, all eyes on me. I blinked to regain my bearings.
“Alex, upon further thought, it does seem like these belong to Ella. I’ll give them back.”
“What?”
“We never actually bought these, they were dropped off.” I held out the case. “Here. Take them, Ella.”
Ella eyed me suspiciously, but took it nonetheless.
“Wise choice,” she said.
She tucked the case into a shopping bag and backed towards the archway, pulling her cloak over her head.
“Is that everything?” I asked, my eyes now focusing on the ornate silver chain she wore around her neck.
It looked old. Very, very old.
“That’s beautiful,” I said, pointing towards the chain.
Ella narrowed one eye and stroked the chain. “It’s a protective amulet, kissed by the Goddess Diana herself. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost the stone.”
She tucked the chain into her collar and sidestepped towards the door, sniffing at the air once more.
“I can smell Vivi’s Jena-Tai. Tell her to stay out of my bedroom.”
TWELVE
Once Ella left The Aunt-Tea-Query, Mother faded out and I was left alone with Alex and Kela.
I turned to my cousin, who was still holding the basket.
“Kela, what’s inside of that? It’s shaking!”
“Oh,
this?”
Kela lifted the lid and out sprang a black cat with a pink ribbon tied around its neck. It snarled and hissed menacingly, before retreating beneath my desk.
“Where did you get that creature?” I demanded, stepping back. “And what is it doing inside our business?”
“It’s not a creature, Bay. It’s Mr. B.” Alex grinned triumphantly. “We had to keep him contained while Ella was here. He didn’t like that horrible woman any more than I did.” He glanced at the cat, now quietly purring beneath my desk. “She came in here demanding the rings, and Mr. B tried to scratch her. He’ll make a great guard cat.”
Kela stooped to pet the cat’s head. “You’re so naive, Alex. Ella wasn’t here just for those rings. She wanted something more. It was all over her.”
“What do you think she wanted?” I asked, clenching my hand and feeling the secret ring beneath my glove.
“I don’t know, Baylee. I can pull a tarot card, but if she’s a witch, she’s probably shielded. My guess is she’ll be back.”
Kela pulled Mr. B from beneath my desk and slipped him back into the basket without a fuss. “She gave me the willies, and you know when I have the willies I can’t read tea leaves properly or work the counter.”
“Noted,” I said.
Of course, countless things gave Kela the willies: Dust bunnies, men named Marion, fake bacon. Any of these were a sufficient reason to keep her from performing her job.
I turned to my brother, who was reading the ingredients on a can of vegan cat food. “Now, how did you cut your foot on a rake? We don’t even own a rake, do we?”
Alex lifted the cat food can to the light, squinting to make out the words. “Made with tuna oil! I knew it! Lying advertisers! And no, we don’t own a rake.”
“Alex was rescuing Mr. B,” Kela chimed in. “He tripped on the rake in Yvette’s yard after sneaking out through the window, but they made it.”
“No thanks to you,” Alex grumbled.
“You mean to tell me you violated your parole?” I demanded.
Touch of Light: A Baylee Scott Paranormal Mystery (The Reed Hollow Chronicles Book 1) Page 8
