by K. K. Allen
A shaky breath releases from him, and a hand lands on my wrist. “Good.”
Silence passes between us, and we take Interstate 75 north. I’m glad when we find lighter topics to cover over the next few hours. Somehow, I don’t mind the distance or the time it will take to get there. Paul could have easily driven us to the airport to catch a flight to Silver Lake. It would have taken us half the time, but this gives us a good excuse to talk.
“So, help me figure this out,” I start, intrigued by Paul’s knowledge of our heritage. “If Astina Somer was the original Greek goddess, and another Enchanter was created to be her perfect match, then they had a baby …”
Paul throws his head back and laughs. I have to look at him to watch. Something I said amuses him greatly. “Are you about to ask me if all Enchanters are related?”
I nod, slowly, wondering why this is so funny.
“I can’t believe you’re just now asking that. You know, it’s the one topic I get asked most often because it’s the one least written about in the ancient books. If you read up on the Solstice-Equinox War of Athens you’ll have your answer. It was at that point Zeus ended the bestowing of both Equinox and Solstice gods because the damage was so great. Before that, Solstice Followers were gifted with our powers by proving their loyalty through selfless acts of kindness, which allowed us to marry them. As time went on, descendants of unconverted Followers continued to extend their loyalty, so we continue to let them in on our secrets.”
As he finishes explaining, I notice we’re passing through a unique Georgia town, and I’m immediately won over by its charm. I can tell from the long oak tree branches dripping with Spanish moss and the quaint parks on almost every block that we’ve entered a fairytale.
“Where are we?” I breathe.
Paul slows and turns onto another street with a row of homes to the right and a lush, green park to our left. “Savannah. I want to show you something.” He grins at me as he puts the SUV into park and removes his seatbelt. “Let’s go.”
It’s nice to get out of the car. We’ve only made one other stop, and even my enchanted bones are getting stiff from lack of activity. I stretch and pull on a light jacket from the backseat before following Paul across the street.
“Wait up, Dad. Are we eating?”
He gives me a look over his shoulder. “You hungry?”
I think about it. “Getting there.”
“We can grab dinner before we head out.” I finally catch up to him and look ahead, wondering where in the world he wants to go.
The colonial style buildings on either side of me pull my gaze from one to another, and I’m in awe. The entire city is rich with culture and history, especially this area, packed with tall, glorious trees and more Spanish moss. An orange trolley passes us, and I laugh. “Dad, look.”
He laughs too and places a hand on my back as we make our way down the sidewalk. A while later, he slows to a full stop and turns toward the entrance of the park we’ve been walking around. I’ve been so focused on the buildings and cars, that I didn’t notice …
Down a long, wide, concrete path sits a magnificent fountain spraying water in all directions. Surrounded by a small, black fence, it looks as if it came straight from Paris.
It’s simply breathtaking.
My dad holds his arm out, so I link arms with him, following his lead. “This is Forsyth Park, where your mother and I married.”
My head swivels so fast to face him, it practically spins off my neck. “Really?”
“Yes.” He grins down at me. “Really. We kept it to just my close family, but you would have thought we’d invited the world with how it was all set up. Your mom dreamt of a Savannah wedding since the moment she laid eyes on the city in a magazine. It’s all she talked of for the year leading up to our big day. I didn’t understand what made her love Savannah so much, and then she brought me here to show me where she wanted to marry, and I understood. We had plans to move here with you. She wanted to attend art school, and I planned to get a job at the nearest energy plant.”
Then he points down the walking path that leads to the front of the fountain. “This was our aisle.” He pulls me along it, but my shock hasn’t caught up with me yet.
We stroll around the fountain, admiring the mythological statues as he explains the symbolism of the Tritons and Nereids that hold fish spouting water upwards to the rim of the basin. My father is such a wealth of knowledge; he reminds me of Rose in that way. I’ve watched him speak at the community center, and he draws the crowd in just like my grandmother does, hypnotizing them with his words and evoking whatever emotions he wants them to feel. There’s no doubt the town will want him to take over for Rose when she …
“This,” he says breathlessly, “is one place I thought I’d never come back to. It’s been hard enough living with the memories of Savannah and Apollo Beach—too much history. I couldn’t have come back here without you, Katrina. Thank you.”
He squeezes my hand, and my heart aches for the man who suffered a heartbreak so great I’ll never fully understand—and selfishly, I hope to never understand.
“You must have wanted to start another family.” I search his face for any indication he might lie to me. “I won’t be hurt, I promise. It’s only natural …”
He chuckles. I’m glad to have lightened the mood. “I dated women, Katrina. I’m a man, and I love women.” He smiles wistfully. “Your mother was the love of my life, but I understood there was no future there once she took you away. It took some time, but I tried. There was a woman I thought I’d marry, but it didn’t work out.”
“Why?” I want to kick myself for asking such a personal question. For an instant I think of Alec. Just as quickly, I shake away the image of his crestfallen face as we stood on my balcony last night.
Paul hesitates before speaking. “When she found out I couldn’t have children, that pretty much ended it.”
This is news to me, not that my father would have any reason to mention this before now. “You can’t have children, or you don’t want to?”
“I was in an accident many years ago at an energy plant in Houston. There was a chemical explosion that almost killed me. You wouldn’t know it by looking at me now, but I was practically charcoal. Luckily, I was surrounded by Enchanters who pooled their energy to heal me. If I were to put money on it at that time, I would have bet my life was over.”
A chill sweeps through me, causing my body to tremor. “I came out of it alive,” he says, “but the chemicals were like poison to my insides, and I lost the ability to have more children.”
What is it with the Summer family and tragic fires? My grandfather died in a house fire, I was almost killed by a bonfire, and my poor dad survived a chemical explosion.
“How did the fire start?” I can’t help asking since every disaster seems to lead back to one person.
He frowns. “I know what you’re thinking. Erebus?” He asks.
I nod. “He caused the Summer Estate fire”—I say this as if he doesn’t already know. George was his father, for goodness’ sake—“and the one on the Fourth of July. Do you think he could have had anything to do with your fire?”
Paul shakes his head. “No, he definitely had nothing to do with that one. That was a chemist’s recipe gone bad.” He visibly shivers. I can’t imagine what an awful memory that must be. “The work we do at the plants are considered too dangerous for most.”
” I know nothing about it. What kind of work does a chemist do for the plant?”
Paul grins but doesn’t look at me. “You’d be surprised. Anyway…” Clearly he doesn’t think it’s important enough to answer. “One moment I was walking the halls of the facility; the next I’m blown up in flames, sucking down the toxic gases from the plant.”
“When was this?”
“Eight years ago.”
My thoughts stray. “I was nine years old,” I say wistfully.
“What were you doing when you were nine?” His question match
es my line of thought, which amazes me. Our similarities are endless.
I allow him to steer me onto a large, open, green field where soccer balls roll and kites fly. There’s so much beauty in everything, it’s overwhelming. I can see why my parents wanted to raise a family here. This place oozes charm and magic from even the simple cracks in the concrete. It’s made for an Enchanter.
Within seconds I’m brought back to my lonely but happy childhood as I ponder a way to answer Paul’s question. I smile as I think of my greatest memory. “There was this treehouse in the woods behind our apartment. It was deep in the thick of nature, surrounded by nothing but more trees. It belonged to two brothers, boys my age. I would have gone to school with them if I wasn’t home schooled. I remember the day I found it because I’d always play in those woods against Mom’s wishes. It was the only place I could go and feel as if I was a part of a world bigger than the small distance she would take me. There was a hammering in the woods, and I spied on the brothers and their father laying down the last piece of floorboard. From that day on, I’d go to that treehouse as much as possible. I found comfort there even when I knew I was trespassing.”
I giggle, pulling myself from my memories. My dad unhooks our arms and wraps his around my shoulders. “I’ll build you a treehouse, Katrina.”
His words are few, but they mean the world. Tears threaten to release, and I grin. “Would you have built me a treehouse at that age?” I’m genuinely curious.
There’s something in his expression that I’ve never seen before. I’ve seen sadness, but this is something more, as if he’s fighting back tears. “Yes, sweet girl. I would have built you one then, and I’d build you one now.”
“But I’m seventeen!” I laugh, then curl up closer to him in his embrace. “What can I do with a treehouse now?”
“You’re never too old for a treehouse, Katrina.”
Chapter Nine
Paul managed to carry me to our hotel room and plop me into one of the double beds without disturbing me. We left Savannah last night after an early dinner and a stop at Leopold’s for “the best ice cream ever,” according to my dad. He’s convinced the original owners are descendants of Greek gods, bestowed with the magic of delivering heaven in the form of an ice cream cone.
It’s probably a good thing I fell asleep on the way here. I groan and stretch before sliding out from under the sheets. With a single glance out the window, I know exactly where I am. Why does it all have to hurt so much? Being this close to where my life once existed is like reopening a wound held together with a single piece of masking tape. Waking up in Silver Lake might just be more bearable than entering city limits with eyes wide open.
I want to pretend I’m anywhere else but here. Savannah, maybe. Although, my dreams of Savannah last night were anything but beautiful. I was haunted by my mother’s face in a knee-length wedding dress caked in dirt. She was surrounded by a disturbing blue glow and a snake that slowly circled her feet.
“How does Pancake Nation sound for breakfast?” Paul asks me eagerly, obviously starving.
I shake my head, frowning. My mom and I went there too often to go back now.
“Kimballs?”
I make a face. “No.”
Paul sighs and continues to search his phone for something close. “Katrina, I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but you can’t live your life avoiding your mother’s death. A pain like that will never go away, but you can’t pretend it never happened.”
With a deep breath I think of his words and crinkle my forehead in reluctant agreement. I am starving. “We can go to the deli down the road. Mom and I only went there once, and the food was disgusting.”
Paul chuckles. “Well, that’s a start. Lead the way.”
There’s an ache in my chest as we drive past the apartment my mother and I used to live in. Paul slows the car. “Do you want to stop here for anything? The apartment is empty if you want to go in.”
I shake my head. “I’ll lose it, Dad. I have no interest in going back there. Ever.”
He nods and picks up speed past the rundown basketball court, the high school, and the local gym. The storage facility is around the next corner.
“I’ll go in first. Come in when you’re ready,” he says gently.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll come.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of the car before I can change my mind.
There was a point during the drive when I thought of this moment and how I wanted to handle it. I made the decision to go through my mom’s things because there could be good memories I want to hold onto. Memories I may have lost over the last two years. Letting it all go would be a huge mistake. One day, I’ll want to remember her as best as I can. Having some physical reminders of her will help.
Paul unlocks the door and pulls it above his head until it locks in place. Harsh light from the hallway shines down on the storage room, exposing my mom’s belongings. I step past my dad and enter the room, heading straight for the clothing rack.
Fingering through her clothes, I’m careful not to wrinkle a single piece. My mom was always so pressed and clean. Everything she wore was ironed and seemingly brand new, yet she rarely shopped. Images of my mother pour over me as if I’ve just opened a portal to her memory. It’s a light that feels good as I bathe in it, drinking up all that I can capture just by being near so much of her.
When I was a child, I would wake like clockwork every night around midnight, sneak into her room, and climb into her bed. In the mornings I would watch her press her clothes for the day, wash her face, and then slip into the crisp fabric. Most of the time she would dress up just to hang around the house with me, but she seemed to always be prepared for anything.
“She kept this?” My dad’s voice startles me. I turn to see him holding an old CD.
My feet noisily sweep the ground as I near him to get better sight of what he’s referring to. Ah, yes. This one I know well. “That was her favorite.” I take the CD from him and flip it to the back where the song list appears and smile. “‘Name,’ by the Goo Goo Dolls. That’s the one. She would put this on repeat sometimes and stare off into space with a smile on her face.”
Paul sweeps his eyes around the room quickly and finds whatever he’s searching for. He reaches on top of a white shelf for the black box that sits under a pile of books. Dust flies everywhere as he wipes it off. My mom’s CD player. In seconds he’s powering it up with nothing but magic, and the familiar tune rings in my ears.
“Dance with me?” Paul grins. How can I resist?
I take his hands and let him spin me around the cramped space of the storage unit unable to keep my giggles from escaping.
As we move, I can’t help listening closely to the lyrics now. Paul must know this song well too.
“Your mother and I used to listen to this track constantly. It was our secret song, a little joke we had that made her serious situation not feel so serious.”
I tilt my head up at him, giggles subsiding. “She was sad about not knowing her family?”
Paul nods, sending feelings of sorrow straight to my heart. My poor mother. To never know where you came from is far worse than learning you come from a magical bloodline.
“She would have these moments of sadness, but then we’d play this song and she’d be all smiles again. It didn’t take much to make her smile.” He pauses. “Sometimes I wondered if where she came from was something she blocked on purpose.”
We let the rest of the CD play while we continue wandering around the space. To my surprise, I’m enjoying myself. There’s a lot I’m okay with getting rid of. Furniture, mostly. But her clothes, books, and jewelry are things I want to keep close to me.
“Hey Kat. Do you want your mom’s old notebooks? I don’t really want to rifle through them. I’m certain they’re her journals. She would write in them constantly when I knew her.”
I look over my shoulder and frown. “I’ve never seen those before.”
Paul looks down at them and then back to me. “I’ll pack them up. You can decide what to do with them later.”
I turn back to the pile of photographs I’m perusing and decide to box them up for our trip back to Apollo Beach. There are too many to look through right now, and since they include family photos of the Summers, Rose and Paul might want to look through them too.
There’s one last jewelry box in the corner of the room on a high shelf. It’s the one my mom instructed I never touch because it contained her valuables. There is nothing and no one stopping me from looking at them now. I smile and will it down, levitating it and admiring the handcrafted wood closely. She would want me to keep this.
Out of curiosity, I hold it still with one hand and pull the top open with the other. I gasp. “Is this her wedding ring?” I ask in shock. There are only a few pieces of jewelry in the box, and a giant diamond sits in the center. A necklace and diamond studded earrings accompany it. None of which I’ve ever seen before. I guess my heritage wasn’t the only secret she kept from me. She was clearly holding onto my father after all those years, but she didn’t want me to know. She must have known he would find these things if anything ever happened to her.
“It sure is,” Paul says. “She kept a lot of our things, but she told me she pawned this off.”
“Apparently not.”
“Why would she lie about that?” He sounds hurt, as if this betrayal is one that stings.
As a gesture, I hold out the jewelry box to him. “Take it. This should be yours.”
He pushes it back to me. “No, Kat. I can’t take any of that. It’s yours. Your mother would want you to have it.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want this stuff. Not yet, anyway. Keep it, please. You can give it to me another time when I’m older and more responsible.” I wink at him, and he accepts my offer. Deep down, I think he needs it more than I do.
