The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5)

by April Aasheim

  “I’d get by.” Alex crossed his arms and gave me his sternest look, though it melted almost immediately. He had a reputation in Reed Hollow for being gruff but he couldn’t wear that mask around me for long. “I’ll think about it, but I’m pretty swamped right now with running the tea shop and my current laundry situation.” He leaned across the counter. “Between you and me, I think the squirrels are stealing my socks from the clothesline. I’ll have to either hunt them down or find new ones.”

  “You’re going to hunt the squirrels?”

  “I’m going to hunt down the socks! Not the squirrels. Never the squirrels!” Alex wiped his hands several times on a nearby towel, cleansing away the horrific idea. “What I’m saying is, I’m a busy man. I don’t have time to learn how to make scones.”

  “Have you tried Pinterest?”

  “Now what the hell is Pinterest?”

  “A place where all your dreams come true.” I took my phone out of my Italian purse and pulled up the website. After typing in a few words, I handed it over. “I just set up an account for you. You’re welcome.”

  Alex backed away as if I were handing him a vial of poison. “No.”

  “Just no?”

  “Hell no.”

  “You, sir, are no gentleman.”

  “Now you’re mixing your movie quotes with some real emotion. Why Scarlett, you’re not a robot, after all.”

  We exchanged smiles, softer ones without guile or agenda. We hadn’t lived or worked together since childhood and we were still trying to figure it out as adults. I knew Alex would never use Pinterest or learn to make crumpets, or do anything else contrary to his stalwart nature. He was a creature of habit and ritual and was slow to change. When he took over our parent’s tea shop, he swore on a stack of American-authored books there would never be any “English froufrou crap in the cafe.” So far, he had stuck to his guns, but I was wearing him down.

  “Would you like anything I actually have?” he asked.

  “A cup of mint tea and a plate of cucumber sandwiches, please.”

  Alex knocked his head against the old-fashioned cash register that guarded the bagel basket. “Seriously?”

  “Pretty please.” I beamed innocently, knowing my last request would send him rooting around our sun-scorched garden, searching for the last edible cucumber. It was a fitting punishment, after his refusal of my Pinterest help.

  “Fine.” He brandished a butter knife inches from my nose. “But don’t tell anyone cucumber sandwiches are on the menu. I can’t manage the shop, find my missing socks and keep up the garden. I’m only one man, Baylee.”

  “There’s always the grocery store,” I reminded him.

  “No. Grocery store produce is swimming in toxins. I won’t have you growing a third eye or an extra limb. I’ll go dig up your cucumber.”

  My brother exited through the large solarium to the right of the café that also served as the High Tea Room in the afternoon. He soon returned with a limp, withered vegetable dangling from his fingers. “Pathetic,” he said, slapping it onto a cutting board. “It’s El Nino, I tell you.”

  “Can you remove the seeds too, please?”

  With that, Alex stormed into the kitchen, where he could finish the task in private. I remained at the counter, calling out helpful instructions, until I felt a firm tap on my shoulder. A quick jolt shook me and I grabbed onto the nearest barstool to steady myself.

  When the shock subsided, I turned and leveled a finger at the man who had tapped me. He was tall and handsome with wide blue eyes set against an overly tanned complexion. “Never touch me without my consent again,” I said, dusting off the space on my shoulder where he had made contact.

  “Sorry about that miss, but I think you may have dropped a twenty.” The stranger opened his hand to reveal a crumpled bill, presenting it with a smile as white as The Aunt-Tea-Query’s finest bone china.

  “It’s not mine,” I replied, conducting a more thorough inspection of the man. I had seen him before, but never up close. He was good-looking, in a contrived way, with moussed hair and eyebrows shaped at a spa. The color on his cheeks and the scruff on his chin advertised him as rugged and outdoorsy, though his perfectly white sneakers argued otherwise. He was in his mid-thirties but could pass for younger, if he shaved.

  “Are you sure it’s not yours?” He stepped closer. He smelled of bar soap and expensive aftershave, the kind my husband only wore on special occasions.

  “Quite sure, thank you.”

  The twenty-dollar bill fluttered between his fingers. “How do you know?” He lowered his gaze and took my hand, wrapping the bill in my palm. As we made contact, the letter “J” flashed in silver light above his head, then fizzled out.

  “You would be wise to keep your distance, Josh or James or whatever your name is,” I said, yanking my hand away. “I already warned you not to touch me without asking. You won’t get another chance.”

  “J” blinked and retreated a step, clearly caught off guard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to appear creepy.”

  “Oh? How did you mean to appear?”

  “Helpful?” He smiled with one side of his mouth, a look he had no doubt mastered in front of a mirror over the course of many hours. “Can we start again? My name is Jake.” He nodded towards the twenty. “How do you know this isn’t yours? We’re the only two people here.”

  Despite Jake’s intrusiveness, I didn’t sense he was dangerous. Plus, I had time to kill while waiting for my cucumber sandwich. “Alright, Jake, I’ll tell you how I know it isn’t mine. It’s all in the details.”

  “What?”

  “Listen closely. I never wad up my money. I’m very careful with my things, especially money. It doesn’t grow on trees, Jake.”

  “No…”

  “And I rarely carry more than ten dollars in cash. I have a tendency to indulge myself, especially in accessory shops and bakeries, and it’s too tempting to carry more money than I need. After time and good health, money is our most valuable resource.”

  Jake’s eyes glazed over as my words rolled around in his head like the mismatched socks in Alex’s washing machine. After a long pause, he grinned. “You’re honest. I appreciate that in a woman.”

  “Do you appreciate honesty in men, too?”

  “Yeah, men too,” he amended, scratching his jaw. “It’s just that women…well, they are…” He waved both his hand in front of him and clenched his teeth.

  “I’ll just surmise that you’ve had some bad experiences with the opposite sex.”

  “Boy, could I tell you stories…”

  “Please don’t.”

  My brother returned and handed me a scattering of thin sandwiches on a cracked plate. “The Queen’s meal is ready,” he said, bowing. “Now let me get back to my work, Baylee.” Alex glanced at Jake. “You need something, too?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’ve got dishes to do.” Alex returned to the kitchen and I took my sandwich to a small table near the front window, where my mother, Vivi Bonds, sat waiting.

  “Who’s that coming our way?” Mom asked, smacking her lips appreciatively.

  Sure enough, Jake had left the counter and was sauntering over. “Ignore him,” I said, as he took the chair between us.

  “I heard that guy call you Baylee,” Jake said, tapping his knuckles against the table. “It’s a pretty name.”

  “It is a pretty name,” Mom agreed, patting herself on the back. “She was named after the bay leaf, which is a plant of protection. Tell him, Baylee.”

  I ignored my mother and dropped my sandwich, giving my full attention to my new stalker. “Let me save you the trouble, Jake. I’m not interested in you or any other man at the moment.”

  “Why not?” Mom asked, her eyes taking in Jake’s muscled arms.

  “Because Ryan’s not dead,” I said.

  “Who’s Ryan?” Jake asked.

  “My husband.”

  “Ex,” Mom corrected. “Or maybe estranged? Wha
t do you call it when your husband goes poof?’”

  “Missing,” I said to them both. “My husband, Ryan, is missing.”

  For once Jake’s eyes showed real emotion, as well as some confusion. “I’m sorry. That’s terrible. How long?”

  I looked down at the table, blinking into my tea cup. “Two years, ten months, four days.” Nearly three years, but I couldn’t say that out loud. Two sounded more manageable.

  “Are you over him?” Jake pressed. “I don’t see a ring underneath those satin gloves. Classy touch, by the way.”

  “You’re still hitting on me after I told you I lost my husband? And people accuse me of being insensitive.” I removed my wool hat and satin gloves and arranged them neatly beside the vase on the table. Then, I turned my chair towards him and looked deep into his eyes. “Jake, you said that I was honest, but that isn’t an accurate assessment of me. I’m a writer and have been known to have quite an imagination.”

  His dark brows knit together. “Yeah?”

  “Though I may not be a pillar of honesty, I am quite blunt, which I suppose is a form of honesty.” I stood and motioned for Jake to do the same. He rose uncertainly, and we faced one another. With my heels on, we were nearly the same height. “Would you like to hear my honest assessment of you, Jake?”

  “Uh… I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

  “Probably not.” I cast a glance around the first floor of the stately farmhouse that now served as our home and business. The cafe and the solarium were both empty, save for Alex who clanked dishes around in the sink. To the left of the cafe an arch opened, revealing the antique shop I inherited. There was no one in there, either. Now certain we were alone, I crossed my arms across my chest. “I saw you pick up the money outside the men’s room.”

  Jake grinned and nodded. “See? I’m a good guy.”

  “But the men’s room and the ladies’ room are at opposite ends of the building. One is near the solarium, and the other is near the antique shop.” I pointed to the opposing doors, like a flight attendant highlighting the facilities. “Since I am obviously not a man, why did you ask if it was mine?”

  Jake shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes pausing at the Exit sign. To his credit, he stayed. “I thought I’d ask everyone in here. When I came out of the restroom, you were the only one still here.”

  “Did you notice the man behind the counter? He seems a far likelier choice, given the location of the found money.” Much more likely, actually. Alex had a sharp mind but lost most everything. Our mother joked it was the reason he was so thin - he lost his appetite as a kid and never found it again.

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Jake glanced at Alex, who was now poking a fork into the toaster to remove a stuck bagel.

  “It’s not his money, either.” I said. “Alex never uses public restrooms, even here.”

  “What are you getting at? I’m not trying to take anything from you. I’m trying to give you something.”

  “What I’m getting at is that I don’t appreciate games. You just wanted to talk to me, didn’t you Jake?” I smiled sweetly, deepening my dimples, though my arms remained crossed across my chest.

  Jake raised his hands in the air. “Alright. Busted. I hope it’s at least a little flattering?”

  “I’d be far more flattered if I hadn’t seen you chatting up every female who comes in here.” I pointed through the arch, into the antique shop. “That’s my office. I’ve watched you work your charms, many times on many women.”

  The bronzer momentarily faded from Jake’s face. He blinked three times, slowly. “Okay, so I’m a flirt,” he confessed. “Is that so wrong?”

  “Not necessarily. In every society, young men and women of courtship age exchange glances, smiles, and trivial conversation meant to create intimacy and heighten sexual tension.” I looked over his shoulder, wondering if I had an anthropology book handy to reference. “Flirting is often a necessary first step in securing a mate in societies where mates aren’t chosen for you.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That makes two of us,” Mom chimed in, still sitting at the table.

  “Jake, hold out your hand,” I instructed.

  “No.”

  “Hold-out-your-hand.”

  He pointed to a wooden sign above the solarium that read: Palm and Tea Leaf Readings: Ten Dollars. “I get it. You want to earn the money, huh?”

  “That’s my cousin Kela’s business. She’ll give you good news. I’ve got other plans for you.”

  I grabbed Jake’s right sleeve and turned his forearm so that his palm faced up. I didn’t read tea leaves or love lines, as my cousin Kela did, but I had talents of my own. I exhaled a breath into my bare hands to warm them, then wrapped both palms around Jake’s right hand. Next, I braced for impact.

  A flash of orange light exploded between my temples. My hands tightened around Jake’s and he crumpled to his knees. “What the hell! Let go!” he begged, trying to pull loose.

  But it was too late. Our bodies were fused, linked together like a stout chain, my mind probing his. I had plugged into Jake - into his past, present, and possibly even his future, if destiny were involved. Despite his calculated outward appearance, it was a jumbled mess inside Jake’s head. So many random thoughts flying around. Jumping into a person’s mental landscape was like freefalling into the eye of a tornado. It was dangerous, but also beautiful from a certain vantage point, if you didn’t get lost. I held on as thoughts and remembrances whooshed around me, connected to Jake like a plug in a live socket, until I had absorbed all the information I could carry.

  At last, I was thrown back and contact was broken. I trembled as I collected myself, shaking off the darker images before they embedded themselves in my own consciousness. Some thoughts had to be vanquished right away or they became a permanent part of you.

  Jake stood slowly, shaking his palms as if they burned. “What did you do?” he demanded, looking from his hands to me and back again.

  When I regarded him this time, it was with compassion. “I’m sorry. Losing Beth must have been terrible. She was too young.”

  “What? How did you know about Beth?”

  I had learned many things in our shared moment, and most of them broke my heart. “It’s a gift, I’m told,” I answered, shrugging.

  He clenched his jaw, his expression part anger, part embarrassment. There was pain there, too. He wanted to run. They all wanted to run, once their secrets were revealed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it.

  He didn’t speak, but rather shuffled from one foot to the other, his hands now stuffed into his pockets. I was going to say something comforting, that Beth had loved him, and that she was in a better place, when a perverse gleam lit Jake’s eyes. “Hey, I remember you! You’re Baylee Bonds. The witch-girl. You were gone what…nine years? Ten?”

  “Eleven years, seven months, thirteen days. More or less.”

  “Baylee Bonds, all grown up.” He whistled appreciatively. “City living was good to you, wasn’t it?”

  “It’s Baylee Scott now,” I corrected him.

  His smile widened as Alex passed by with a broom. “And that’s your weird brother! The one who ‘speaks’ to animals? Wasn’t he locked up? Wait till everyone hears he’s out and sweeping floors!”

  I observed Jake coolly as I returned my gloves to my hands. “Jake, let me be clear on this. My brother’s incarceration is a family matter and I suggest you mind your own business.”

  “Only if you promise me a date. I’ve never gone out with a witch before.”

  “I will not promise you a date, but I will promise you this: If you spread any gossip about my brother, or anyone else in my family, I’ll let everyone in town know what I saw in your head.”

  “Everyone already knows about Beth.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh? What else did you see, witch?”

  There was an entire cinem
atic reel Jake kept hidden beneath his expensive haircut: abandonment, sexual inadequacy, and debt. An extraordinary amount of debt. From gambling, most likely, as images of dice showed up repeatedly in my memory scan of him.

  “You are in serious financial trouble, Jake. Is that why you gallivant about, seducing women?”

  “Gallivant? Who uses words like gallivant? You’re insane, lady.” He checked his watch, sidestepping towards the front open door. “I’m a business consultant. I’m financially secure. You don’t know anything.”

  I kept silent. While my visions weren’t always relevant, they were uncannily accurate. Sometimes, I wished they weren’t.

  “I gotta run.” Jake put on his sunglasses and planted one foot outside. “Don’t worry. I won’t be gallivanting around this place anymore. It’s practically a cemetery anyway. No one comes here anymore except old ladies and Prozac moms. And even they’re getting wise.”

  “So, no date then?” I called after.

  Once the doors shut behind him, I slumped back into my chair, feeling the physical and emotional drain that came with reading someone so fully. I picked up a limp wedge of cucumber sandwich and nibbled at the corner, all joy in the meal now lost.

  “He seemed nice,” my mother said from across the table.

  “He’s not nice, Mom. He seduces women for money.”

  “I’m sure they don’t mind.” Vivi Bonds turned her broad shoulders towards the window, watching Jake’s chiseled form disappear into the landscape of downtown. She smacked her lips together, twice. “Mmm-mmm. If I were still young…”

  “And alive,” I reminded her.

  “Why do you keep bringing that up?”

  “Because you keep forgetting you’re dead.”

  “I don’t forget. I just don’t like remembering.” She eyed my sandwich with the same lustful look she’d just given Jake. “You need to enjoy your life, Baylee. Play the lottery. Dance naked in the moonlight. Kiss strange men. Live it up, girl! You don’t know how lucky you are to be young and beautiful and alive!”

  I regarded my broad-shouldered mother over the napkin dispenser. She was as imposing in death as she was in life. “Being dead hasn’t stopped you from living,” I said.