by Isobel Bird
“So why didn’t you?” asked Annie. “Didn’t she love you?”
The old man fixed her with a look. “Is it that hard to believe that a young lady would fall in love with me?” he asked.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Annie said.
“Yes, she loved me,” Ben said. “We were very much in love. But we didn’t marry. At the end of the summer I went away without telling her why.”
“That’s terrible,” said Annie. “It must have broken her heart.”
“Yes,” said Ben. “It probably did. I know it broke mine.”
“Then why did you do it?” Annie exclaimed. She hated the idea that Ben had been in love and lost it for some reason.
He sighed. “I didn’t want to lose her,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake up one day and find her gone, the way Tad was. I was afraid of being too much in love with her.”
Annie didn’t know what to say. It was the most open, honest thing he had told her yet. And worst of all, she knew exactly what he meant.
“You didn’t want to get hurt,” she said. “You didn’t want to let her get too close because then it might end and you’d be alone again.”
She was speaking slowly. She’d thought that Ben was the one telling his story, but suddenly she realized that it was her story, too. It was the same way she’d felt since the deaths of her parents. She’d been afraid to let people get too close, or to get too close to them, because they might leave her.
“It was a mistake,” the old man said. “I was wrong. I thought that I could escape by choosing to be alone. But all I did was shut myself away. I didn’t avoid the pain by pretending to choose solitude for myself. I only made it worse.”
He looked at Annie. His eyes were sad, but at the same time she could see in them a glint of happiness. What was he thinking about? she wondered. Was it Violet?
“You’re the first friend I’ve had in many years,” he said to her, and she knew then what he was thinking about. It was her.
She couldn’t speak, not because she was afraid of bursting into tears but because she didn’t need to say anything. The look in Ben’s eyes told her everything she needed to know, and she knew that saying anything in response would only spoil the moment.
“Don’t run away from people, Annie,” he said softly, his tough exterior dropping completely for a moment. “Don’t be afraid to love them.”
Annie didn’t know if Ben really understood how close to home he’d hit. Was he speaking about himself, or did he see in her eyes that she, too, was terrified of losing the people in her life? It didn’t matter. She understood what he was saying to her, and she knew that their friendship had changed both of their lives forever.
“What do you say we get back to painting?” Ben said, suddenly sounding like his old self again. “I can’t sit out here all day yakking about the past.”
Annie nodded, clearing her head. She was still thinking about his last words to her as she gathered up the dishes and put them back into the picnic basket. Then she helped Ben get to his feet again, and the two of them walked back to the home.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do now that I have this grand new room,” Ben said as they went inside. “I feel like the shabbiest thing in there.”
“Maybe we’ll have to do a makeover on you,” Annie teased. “I’ll set my friend Kate loose on you. She’ll have you in something from J. Crew in no time.”
“Are all your friends as sassy as you are?” he asked.
“Worse,” said Annie, thinking about Cooper’s sharp tongue. “Much worse.”
“I don’t think I want to meet them, then,” said the old man. “One of you has been hard enough to get used to.”
They returned to his room and spent the next hour finishing up the paint job. When it was finished, Annie looked around. The room looked a thousand times better than it had before. Even the worn furniture had taken on a look of new hope now that the walls weren’t so dingy.
“When the curtains are back up this will be perfect,” Annie said.
Ben was sitting in his chair, his eyes closed.
“Have I worn you out?” Annie asked him.
“I’m seventy-eight years old,” he replied. “And I’ve just eaten more at lunch than I usually eat in a week. I think I need a nap.”
“I’ll leave you alone, then,” Annie said. “We’re done here anyway.”
She moved his bed back so that it was close to the wall but not touching it. Then she made sure that his window was open so that the paint could dry and the fumes wouldn’t bother him.
“You’re all set,” she said. “Want me to tuck you in?”
“There you go again,” said Ben, sitting wearily on the edge of his bed. “Getting smart with an old man. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I think you can handle it,” said Annie. She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Don’t let Abercrombie see you doing that,” Ben chided her. “She’ll think we’re having a torrid affair.”
Annie rolled her eyes, waved at him, and left. As she walked through the hall to the front door, she thought again of what he had said outside. What would his life have been like if he’d stayed and married Violet? Would he be at Shady Hills now, or would he be somewhere else, surrounded by people who loved him? What exactly had he given up by leaving her at the end of that summer so many years ago?
And what about her? How many friendships had she passed up because she’d been afraid of getting close to someone? How many opportunities had slipped through her hands because of that fear? The deaths of her parents had taken a lot away from her, but she had let them destroy more than was necessary.
Not anymore, she thought determinedly. She’d been right—Ben Rowe had come into her life for a reason. He was part of her path after all. And now that he was there, she was going to change. She was going to take chances. She wasn’t going to lock herself away because it made her feel more secure. She was going to let the world in. She’d already started doing that with Kate and Cooper, and it had completely changed her life. Now she saw that there was even more that she could do.
She exited the building and walked into the glorious afternoon sun, her head filled with all kinds of ideas. But mostly she was thinking about what kind of pie to make for Ben when he came to dinner the next week.
CHAPTER 12
Kate was walking too close to the edge of the cliff. Cooper could see her following the path and walking happily as if she were strolling through a meadow instead of teetering on the brink of danger. She didn’t seem to be at all aware of the fact that one wrong move would send her plunging headlong into the abyss that lay at the bottom of the mountain.
“Kate!” Cooper called out as loudly as she could. “Watch out!”
Kate didn’t turn around. She kept walking, ignoring Cooper’s warning. There was a bundle tied to a stick balanced on her shoulder, and it bounced with each step. Cooper thought that was strange. Then she noticed that Kate was also dressed oddly. She was wearing a funny hat that had three long points sticking out from it.
She’s dressed like the Fool from the Tarot deck, Cooper realized. What’s going on?
She was dreaming. Part of her mind understood that. But it seemed so real. She was standing on a mountain, watching her friend as she traveled a narrow path through treacherous rocks. Cooper knew that it was her job to help Kate, but she didn’t know how. She kept calling out her name, but it was as if Kate were deaf. Or you’re invisible, she thought. Was that it? Was Kate unable to see or hear her?
She ran forward, tugging on Kate’s sleeve. Kate paused for a moment, looking around confusedly, and then kept walking as if nothing had happened.
“Kate!” Cooper yelled. “I’m right here! Turn around. You’re going to get hurt!”
Again Kate paused for a moment, and again she continued on her journey through the mountains, oblivious to the fact that Cooper was following along behind her.
“Please, K
ate,” Cooper cried. “Just listen to me.”
Kate turned around, looking right through Cooper as if she didn’t exist. She shifted the pack on her shoulder, and as she did her foot slipped. She lurched sideways, leaning out over the edge of the path. Cooper could see the ground sliding away from beneath her friend’s feet.
“No!” she screamed. She lunged forward, grabbing at Kate. But Kate continued to fall, tumbling over the side of the mountain. As she did, her eyes met Cooper’s, and she looked confused.
“Why?” she said before disappearing.
Cooper woke up. She knew that it had all been a dream, but she was still frightened. Her forehead was covered with sweat, and she was breathing hard. She hadn’t had a dream as real as that one since her encounters with the ghost of Elizabeth Sanger. But what did it mean? Was Kate really in trouble? Was Cooper supposed to help her somehow?
Kate was dressed as the Fool, Cooper remembered. Was that some kind of a sign? If so, what could it mean? She sat up and thought hard, trying to think of any connection between Kate and the Fool. Then she remembered—Kate had drawn the Fool card in class several weeks ago. It represented the path she was traveling as she studied Wicca.
So why am I seeing her? Cooper asked herself. After her intense experience with Elizabeth’s ghost, she knew that her dreams were usually clues to something going on in real life. So what was this one about? Obviously it had something to do with Kate. But what? And why was Cooper trying to warn her?
She thought about it for a long time, but nothing came to her. As far as she knew, Kate wasn’t in any kind of trouble. If anything it was her aunt who was in a perilous situation. But the dream hadn’t been about Kate’s aunt. It had been about Kate.
It was about me trying to help her, Cooper thought. It was about me trying to help her—and failing.
Maybe that was it. Maybe the dream wasn’t really about Kate, at least not directly. Maybe it was about herself. In the dream she had been trying to help Kate as she walked along her path. But ultimately she had caused Kate to fall by calling out to her. She had distracted her friend, and as a result Kate had fallen from the cliff.
That’s it, she thought. You’re afraid that if you try to help Kate you’ll end up hurting her instead.
That made sense. After all, Kate had called her asking for help. But she’d said no. And why? Because she was afraid she’d ruin things. She was afraid that if she got involved in anything having to do with witchcraft it would all go wrong, just like it had on Midsummer Eve.
So it had just been a simple nightmare. In a strange way that made her feel a little better. At least she could try to go back to sleep. She closed her eyes and put her head on the pillow.
But all she could see was Kate’s face as she fell off the cliff and looked into Cooper’s eyes. “Why?” she said again, and the word repeated itself over and over in Cooper’s mind.
She sat up again. This time she turned on the light. She wasn’t just having a nightmare. There was some other reason for her dream. Someone was trying to tell her something. She sighed. I thought I was through with this kind of stuff, she thought tiredly.
The question now was what she was going to do next. She could stay up all night trying to figure it out, but she knew that would just make her tired and irritable. There had to be something else, something that would help her focus and figure out what the dream was telling her.
Suddenly her eyes fell on the little table she’d once used as an altar. Now it held some books she was reading.
Oh, no, she thought as an idea popped into her head. I’m not going there.
She looked away from the table, but her gaze was drawn back to it. Could she really do what she was thinking? Could she do it again? She didn’t want to. She knew it was just asking for trouble. But something was urging her to do it.
Reluctantly, she got out of bed and went to her closet. Inside she found the box where she’d packed away the things that had once been on her altar. She took the box out and sat on the bed, holding the box on her lap. She very much did not want to open it. She’d even sealed it with packing tape.
With a sigh she pulled on one end of the tape, ripping it off. Then she opened the box and looked inside. There, wrapped in newspaper, was the goddess statue Kate had given her on her birthday. Cooper took it out and gently unwrapped it. She held the image of Pele in her hand and looked at its face.
“Hi,” she said. “Remember me?”
She carried Pele to the table. After clearing the books from the top, she set the goddess on top of it. Then she went back to the box, retrieved the candle that was in it, and put that on the tabletop as well. Still not believing that she was doing what she was doing, she found some matches and lit the candle. Then she sat on the floor, watching the candle burn and staring at the statue of Pele behind it.
She sighed. What was she doing? She felt like an idiot sitting there in front of the table. She couldn’t even think of it as an altar. That was too much. It was just a table with a statue and a candle on it. She hadn’t even put the cloth on it first.
“This isn’t anything permanent or anything,” she said quietly, looking at Pele. “I just want to talk to you for a minute.”
She placed her hands in her lap and looked down at them. She wasn’t sure what she was doing. In the past she had always been able to use meditation to help her sort through her feelings. Many times she had sat like this, talking to Pele or just letting her thoughts settle as she worked on something that was bothering her.
“It’s this Kate thing,” she said. “I know she wants me to help her. But I can’t. I’d just screw everything up. I’m not doing that stuff anymore. This stuff either,” she added as she looked at the flickering candle. “But here I am doing it.”
It wasn’t working. Her mind was racing, and she couldn’t focus her thoughts. They kept running one way and then another, like mice being chased around by a cat. She would manage to grab one and then another would dash by, breaking her concentration so that the first thought escaped.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked Pele angrily, as if she expected the goddess to start talking. “You want something, or I wouldn’t have had that dream.”
The Pele statue continued to stare back at her with empty eyes. She knew it wasn’t going to speak to her. The only time she had received a message from the goddess was during a dream. If Pele wanted to tell her something, why hadn’t she appeared in the dream? Maybe it was just a nightmare after all, she told herself. Maybe she was just being ridiculous and projecting her anxiety about her strained friendship with Kate into her subconscious.
“I knew this was a dumb idea,” she said, standing up. She blew out the candle. Then she picked up the statue of Pele and took it back to the box. Wrapping it up, she placed it inside. The candle she left out because the wax was still hot. She would put that away in the morning.
She put the box back in her closet and returned to bed. What had she been thinking? Why did she think she could just put a statue on a table and ask it to give her advice? That was an act of desperation, something to do because she couldn’t think of anything else. But why should Pele give her any messages, especially after Cooper had decided not to be involved in Wicca anymore?
Just forget about it, she told herself as she tried to get back to sleep.
It took some time, but she managed to get to sleep again. Much to her relief, she didn’t have any further dreams, about Kate or about anything else. But she slept poorly, and when she opened her eyes and saw that it was morning, she groaned sleepily. Not only did she have to get up, but it was Monday. There was a tour coming that afternoon, and she had to show them around. It wasn’t exactly what she felt like doing at the moment.
She forced herself to sit up. Yawning, she stretched her tired muscles and cracked her neck. Then she stood up and shuffled to the door to find her bathrobe before heading to the shower.
As she reached for her robe she paused. Turning her head, she looked at the
table where she had placed the statue of Pele the night before. The candle was still sitting there. Only now it was burning again.
I know I blew that out last night, she told herself. She remembered doing it, because she was always afraid that if she didn’t something would catch fire. But if she had blown it out, how had it come to be flickering brightly now?
She walked over and stared at the candle. Was it possible that she hadn’t really blown it out completely? No. But there it was, burning as if it had been going all night. Quite a bit of wax was gone, so she knew that it must have been burning for at least several hours.
She glanced at the closet, where she knew the Pele statue was sitting in the box. Walking over to it, she pulled the door open and pried the lid of the box off. She took the statue out and carried it back to the table, where she set it beside the candle.
She stood looking at the statue and the candle. What was she doing? She couldn’t bring herself to say that she’d set the altar up again. But something was going on, and she needed to figure out what it was. As much as she didn’t want to think that she was even thinking about being involved with her old practices, she knew that something had changed during the night.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said out loud. “Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”
She went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped inside. The warm water soothed her tired body, and she took her time lathering herself with soap and rinsing off. She poured shampoo into her palm and washed her hair, letting the water stream down her face. As she stood there, the steam rising up around her, she thought about what was happening.
Was Pele really sending her a message telling her that it was time to come back? That seemed implausible. But how else could she explain the candle relighting itself? Maybe you got up and did it yourself, she thought.
