Nathalie’s Journal – Entry for Friday, July 5
Thank God it’s the weekend. At lunch Dean and I went for a walk to the lake and back and I went in the bathroom to freshen up afterwards. I keep a hairbrush, toothbrush and toothpaste at the office in case I need them. I was brushing my hair when Beth walked in. When I cleaned the hair out of my brush and threw it out, Beth was looking at me aghast.
“You just leave your hair in the public waste bin?” she asked me. She seemed horrified.
I looked at her. “Why on earth not, Beth?” I asked her, curiously. “What do you do with your, er, hair?” God knows she had enough of it.
She seemed to recover slightly, as if realizing her behaviour was odd. “Oh, just some silly superstition from when I was growing up. I had a grandmother who followed the old ways, you know.”
I didn’t, but she continued.
“According to the lore, your hair and nail clippings can be used against you, to hurt you, should someone know the right spells, so you don’t leave them lying around,” Beth said.
I really didn’t know what to say to that. What a screwball. Used against you? Lore? Spells? What is this loony toon talking about? “Er, well, I haven’t had any negative experiences yet,” I told her in my most positive tone.
She considered me for a minute with narrowed eyes. “I see,” she said before she turned and left the washroom, her curls bouncing behind her.
She is definitely a strange one.
Later I went to see Dean at his desk to show him my newest designs for the Halloween packaging and saw Beth sitting at his cube, swinging her legs and laughing at what he was saying. Dean was flushed and looked completely enthralled with her. What a gorgeous couple they would make. Both tall, she was slender and light and he was broad and dark. I felt something dark roll inside me and I could feel my eyes narrow. I knew the feeling was jealousy. We were only best friends, but I’d been feeling more possessive over him in the last year, and the feeling was magnified a hundred fold at the moment. I was about to back away and hide when Dean saw me. His face lit up and he called me over. Beth was looking at me with dislike, and she didn’t smile.
“Hello bug,” she said to me.
Dean laughed a little awkwardly. “Is that a nickname?”
Beth and I stared at each other. Not a nickname, a perception. To her I was annoying, a pest. Something to get rid of. She had just drawn the line with me on one side and her on the other. We were not going to be friends. We were enemies. This girl barely knew me and yet, without a single doubt, hated my guts.
Dean pulled me down onto his lap and was completely oblivious to the hostile female undertone going on around him. The goof was talking to me in his evil, dastardly villain voice, “I see you have brought me some new wares to consider, minion, but theeese weeel not be good enough…”
I squirmed to get off his lap.
Beth looked down at us with disgust and left.
I almost got free but Dean pulled me back and wrapped his arms around me. I sometimes forget how big he is. At six feet two inches, he’s not a small guy, and it’s hard to escape his large hands. I stopped struggling and hissed at him.
“We’re in the office, Dean! What are you doing?” I said with a wild look around. I started smacking his hands. He let me go, and when I turned to look at him, he was grinning.
“Don’t worry about these dorks.”
“Hey!” someone yelled.
“They know how much I love you,” he said casually. He looked down at the marketing proofs I had brought. “These are awesome, Nathalie,” he said sincerely, flipping through them. “You truly have a gift for concept and colour.”
Someone started making kissy noises behind us.
I tried to appear nonchalant and hide my extreme pleasure at his comments, but it was hard. I watched him concentrate on my work, giving it its due, and I realized that I was completely head over heels in love with my best friend.
“Gotta go,” I said, and fled.
Nathalie’s Journal – Entry for Saturday & Sunday, July 6-7
What a great weekend! I spent Saturday morning shopping around Town Circle with my mom. We got groceries and we stopped in Ye Ole Sweete Shoppe, where we got ice cream cones. At Clara’s Crafts & Crystals I picked up some new tarot cards while my mom got a new latch-hook kit. I needed to see what my fortune was telling me.
“Don’t let Father MacGunne see you with those cards,” my mom said, looking around the store furtively. “You know what could happen.”
I do. Father MacGunne and Clara Innes have argued loudly for years over some of the contents of her shop. To our town priest, tarot cards and other such paraphernalia are the Devil’s tools, and to parishioners caught with such paraphernalia, a strong suggestion to attend mass and confession usually follows. To Clara, they’re just for fun. It must be the Irish in them because even though they argue loudly, and frequently, they always seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.
We stopped in Pages Bookstore to say hello to my manager dad and to browse for some new books. I found an interesting history book on our district, covering the three counties of Barrington, Limerick, and Superstition. I probably could have taken it out of the library, but it looked so interesting that I bought it. I noticed that the book covered the Kellar witch burning of 1595 and I wanted to read up on it a bit more, especially since the Kellars are members of our community (even though they claim they aren’t directly related to Willow Kellar herself). After that, maybe I’ll send it to Rain.
Dean came over for supper and then we played cards on the porch. He kept winning so I made him play fifty-two pick up before I stalked off. We debated walking to town to listen to the band that plays every Saturday from July to August (before the festival starts), but we were too lazy. Instead, we sat on the front porch swing with the lights out, looking at the stars and trying to catch the lightning bugs flying around us.
Dean took my hand and we curled our fingers together. Dean and I have been doing this since that fateful summer day in the park, all those years ago, when our friendship was formed.
Hiding under the slide, we held hands, which symbolized our joined forces against Reginald Baker, who was throwing sand at us and getting it in our eyes.
Our plan was simple. “Just drag him behind the slide so his mom can’t see (not that she was paying attention to the little brat anyway), I’ll sit on him and you rub his face in the sand. Then we’ll spit on him so the sand sticks. No, wait, spit on him first.”
“Okay,” Dean whispered and nodded.
“Betcha he’ll cry like a little baby,” I told Dean confidently.
He nodded and scrunched up his face determinedly and we executed “Plan Sand Job.” It worked like a charm, but contrary to my prediction, Reg didn’t cry. Nor did he go whining to his mom. He took his licks then left the park. He never bothered us again. Instead, a few days later, he asked if he could play with us.
“Should we let him join?” I asked Dean. My fierce expression keeping Reg at a distance as he waited for our verdict.
“He ain’t so bad,” Dean said, scuffing his toe in the sand.
I nodded and beckoned for Reg to approach. Dean knew what he was talking about. I had utter faith in him.
We laughed as we remembered that day.
“It’s interesting, isn’t it?” said Dean. “Things have pretty much gone our way since,” he mused, looking up at the stars.
It’s true, I thought as we rocked quietly in the darkness. Since I met Dean I’ve never been alone or lacked anything. I hadn’t failed at anything either. I looked at the sky feeling really, really lucky.
Sunday morning we walked to The Spires, our local mountain range, and hiked up Crystal Spire, which is the most western mountain. In the afternoon we swam at Crystal Falls, the waterfall at the base of the mountain. The weather was great, hot and sunny, but the water was ice cold. I jumped in but was out in seconds. Dean likes the cold so he stayed in longer, splashing around l
ike a big kid in the bath. It was always a bit of a shock to see Dean without his shirt. His skin’s so white it glows, which is why the contrast with his dark hair can often be startling, as I observed while he splashed around. I tried not to stare at him, even though I wanted to. My newfound realization that I was in love with him was making my eyes roam all over his body behind my sunglasses. I had to control them. I also felt self conscious in my bathing suit. After all, bikinis are only outdoor underwear.
The falls were absolutely gorgeous. Completely surrounded by trees, with bushes and wildflowers growing in wild profusion in between, the pool at the base of the falls was completely private. Ringed by tumbled rocks, the water cascades down from a spout in the mountain about a hundred feet up. They call it Crystal Falls, not only because the water is so clear you can see the bottom of the pool, but because the cascading water sends out droplets of mist that look just like crystals in the sun.
The sun, shining through the trees, created patches of light all around the falls and surrounding forest. It was so beautiful and peaceful—except for the crazy boy splashing around like an idiot, of course.
“Could you make a little more noise?” I asked Dean teasingly as I lay down on one of the wide, flat rocks. It was warm from the sun and felt great on my back. I was tired from the hike and my feet were hot and throbbing from my hiking boots, so I endured the cold and left them dangling in the water.
Dean swam over. “Poor Nathalie,” he said, smiling. He lifted one of my feet out of the water and rubbed it. I think I moaned as his hands worked out the soreness. When he was done he kissed the bottom of my foot and held it to his mouth, which was very warm.
I went still and excitement fluttered in my belly. I wasn’t sure what to do, exactly. I raised myself on my elbows and looked at him. His beautiful eyes were watching me, one eyebrow slightly arched, as if to say, “yeah, I kissed you. What are you going to do about it?” I stared at him for a long moment.
“Don’t forget my other foot,” I said as I hauled it out of the water, wiggling my toes as I lay back down. He laughed quietly as he rubbed. I’m not sure what we would have said or what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted right then by a family of swimmers with a picnic basket. Regardless, the spell was broken. Dean dove into the water and swam a few very rigorous laps before laying his towel beside me in the sun. We didn’t speak. We just curled our hands together and snoozed.
Dean had his usual Sunday family dinner to attend so we parted after he walked me home. As the eldest of six kids, Dean was usually pretty busy helping out. He lingered as he gave me a kiss goodbye on my forehead, his hands on my shoulders and mine on his waist.
When I went in my dad was barbequing, wearing an apron that said “IF IT’S DEAD, I’LL COOK IT” in big letters. Mom stood by with the fire extinguisher. She calls it our Sunday burn-B-Q when daddy’s cooking. Mom always makes a pasta dish in case the meat isn’t edible.
My little brother was in the backyard battling his imaginary foes, vanquishing them, and as always, declaring himself the victor. He had his superman cape around his neck and was attempting to fly across the yard.
Nick is six. There are eleven years between us. He was mommy and daddy’s surprise gift when she was forty. Now I understand what that means, but back then I thought it kinda sucked as far as gifts went. Rain didn’t mind, but she knew everything being my big sister and three whole years older. Now twenty and an aspiring writer, she saved all year so she could spend the summer in Superstition County, writing a paper on the history of that community.
“Don’t you think Superstition is a wild name for a county, Nathalie? Not one history book provides the name’s origin. It’s so odd. There must be a reason why it’s called that, and I’m going to find out.” That’s exactly what she said and that’s where she is right now, and I miss her. She rented an old barn in Superstition and is spending the summer there doing research. I heard that one of Luke Barrington’s older brothers was there as well, but I had no idea which one, or why. I made a mental note to ask Luke the next time I saw him.
When Nick saw me, he stopped flying around the yard and ran up to me with some interesting news.
“Natlee, me ‘n mommy saw a girl named Beth in town today,” Nick said. He took my hand with his pudgy one. “She was in the candy store and mom said ‘hi’ because she saw Beth’s pass for the candy factory. She thought maybe you and Beth were friends.” Nick looked at me very earnestly. “She doesn’t look right,” he whispered to me. “There’s something black inside her. I couldn’t stop staring at her.” He fidgeted with his cape as if to give himself courage and started again. “While mom was talking to Bella and buying our candy, Beth was looking at me as if she was mad. Her eyebrows were in a V like this,” he whispered, scrunching up his face to show me.
The wind blowing through the yard sent chills down my back despite the day’s warmth. Intimidating a six-year old! Unbelievable!
“She was mean to me, Natlee, when mom wasn’t looking,” he told me in a trembling voice. He obviously had not said anything to mom. “She told me that kids like me get hurt if they tell stories to adults. You’re not an adult yet, are you?” Nick’s eyes held fear, and knowledge.
“Only in a few months,” I said reassuringly. “You can tell me anything.”
All of a sudden his expression was not that of a six-year old, but something way older. “You stay away from her, Natlee,” Nick said with a frown of his own. “She’s a bad kid inside.” Then he was off running and mom was yelling for us to come to dinner.
So now I have a few questions. What is Beth’s problem? What did Nick think he saw? And more importantly, what’s up with Dean?
Superstition County
July 4
Dear Nathalie,
Hey little sister! How are you? I’m doing great. I’m hoping this letter actually gets to you since it’ll leave the post office via horse and not by mail truck! I miss you so much (who would have thought, you pest) and have so much to tell you.
Did you know that you can’t drive a car in Superstition? This town is nuts. I had to exchange my car for a HORSE at the town gates because the roads are for horses and carts only. I actually had to ride the animal to the “farmhouse” I’m staying at. (It’s actually a converted barn.) I bounced on that bastard until I thought my ass was going to break! Thank God the people in this town are so nice. They may have snickered at my equestrian skills, but they got a cart and unloaded my car for me and helped me get settled. Not only that, they made me so many welcome meals that I’m still eating them! One thing they have allowed me is a fridge and stove that run on gas. I think they think I’m going to starve otherwise (and I absolutely would), or burn down their barn if I tried to use the fireplace. They use huge blocks of ice to keep things cold. It’s a wild and different life here. I miss my hot shower!
There is a Barrington boy staying next door to me. He’s really interested in my research. It’s one of the middle ones, Gabriel. I think he’s more interested in my fridge and stove, though. It’s like he’s moved in. He tells the townspeople that he cooks on his hearth. Right…(this would be sarcasm). If opening a can of beans and eating raw hotdogs is cooking on the hearth, then he gets a gold star! Actually, we’ve struck a deal. He helps me out with some of the stuff around here, like caring for Popper (my horse) and fixing things falling off the barn, and I cook for the both of us when I’m home. When I suggested he spring for the groceries since he’s rich, he agreed in a very desperate manner! It could have been my incredible sexy charm, but I suspect it was the banana bread I’d just baked helping him with his decision. I’m such a stinker!! But don’t feel too bad for him. He ate almost the whole thing by himself. He was moaning! I think he’s missing his momma. Anyway, so far our arrangement has worked well (and no, I don’t make him buy everything). The barn I’m in has not fallen down around my head and he doesn’t look like he’s starving or dying of scurvy anymore. The townspeople are none the wiser, so mission
accomplished.
I spend most of my days at the town’s archives, or in the library doing research. Nothing is on computers, of course, so I have to read through piles of paper with archaic writing. It’s pretty neat, even if I have to handwrite everything. Really though, people in the past couldn’t spell for shit.
Oh, and I got a dog. I rescued her from the town brats. I just love her! Her name is Abbey and she’s really fat for a stray. Surprisingly, I love Popper too even though cleaning up his giant poops makes me gag!! Hey, I’m changing and growing here. Soon I’ll be a country girl!
Otherwise, not much exciting happens. There was a bit of a kerfuffle when I first arrived. A young teenage girl, Tilly Black, went missing from the town. She’s your age. Apparently she’s not quite “normal” in the head, if you know what I mean. They are still sending search parties in the woods to see if they can find her. It’s so sad. Her parents are beside themselves.
Please write and tell me your news. How’s Dean? You know the guy is absolutely crazy about you, right? Objectively, I can say he’s hot, but let me clarify that with an “ew” since he’s, like, my little brother. But he is HOT. So…anything interesting happening? Anything at all?? Write me!
Love you,
Rain xoxoxo
PS: Say hi to Nick and the “rental” units, and give him a big kiss for me!
Barrington County
July 10
Dear Rain,
Hello beloved sister! I got your letter yesterday. It arrived safe and sound! I was so excited to hear from you! All is well here in Barrington County. Your family sorely misses you, but we certainly enjoyed your news. It made us laugh so much! Mom showed the letter to Claire Barrington (who photocopied it after mom blotted out all the swear words). Apparently Gabriel calls occasionally but doesn’t write, so she has no idea what’s happening with her son, and you know how Mrs. B is about her boys. She was obviously desperate for information and reread your letter a few times. Mom said some of his brothers snickered at the starving part. If you have any influence over him, get him to write his mother for God’s sake!
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