I Dream of Twila: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short

by Lee, Amanda M.

  I chased after Terry, picking up my pace as he turned the corner and walked behind the bushes. He was bent over when I caught up. I didn’t see him right away and careened into his backside.

  “What the … ?”

  I flailed backward, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of me as Aunt Tillie joined us. She looked amused when she saw me on the ground.

  “Graceful.”

  “Stuff it,” I muttered. I expected Aunt Tillie to have a comeback handy, but when she didn’t immediately lob it I flicked my eyes back to her and found her staring at something on the ground on the other side of the bushes. When I turned my full attention there, I found Cherry Brucker cowering as Thistle, Bay and Clove stood across from her. Bay and Clove had their hands clenched at their sides, but Thistle brandished a big stick and wagged it in front of Cherry’s face.

  “Well, well, well,” Aunt Tillie huffed. “Look what we have here. You girls found yourself a thief. Good job!”

  “Thistle, put down the stick,” Terry ordered, knitting his eyebrows as he took in Cherry’s terrified appearance. “You must be the fortune-telling thief who stole the family silver. I see you didn’t run very far.”

  Cherry scowled, finally moving her eyes from a threatening Thistle and focusing on us. “Who are you?”

  “You’re psychic,” Terry challenged. “Shouldn’t you already know that?”

  “She’s a fraud,” Aunt Tillie reminded him. “She doesn’t know anything. Now … give me my silver.” Aunt Tillie grabbed the box Cherry sheltered on her lap. The fortuneteller put up only a token fight before releasing it. She looked positively furious.

  “I am not a fraud,” Cherry argued. “I’m a psychic.”

  “You’re in big trouble is what you are,” Terry countered. “Not that I’m not happy about you being too stupid to run – it honestly makes my job easier – but what are you doing here? Why didn’t you flee when you had the chance?”

  Cherry scowled, her eyes dark as they flicked to Aunt Tillie. “Ask her. I’m pretty sure she knows why I didn’t manage to get away.”

  Aunt Tillie’s expression turned from evil to innocent. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

  “Oh, geez! I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what’s going on here. Thistle, put down that stick!” Terry grabbed the stick and jerked it away from a furious Thistle. “You’ll poke out someone’s eye.”

  “I’m fine with that,” Thistle said. “Give it back!”

  “No.” Terry made a face. “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  “We’re all doomed,” Cherry wailed, widening her eyes. “We’re all about to die!”

  “Oh, well, that was fairly pathetic,” Terry muttered. “While we’re waiting to die, though, I think I’m going to take you into custody.” He bent over to grab Cherry’s arm, but she fought the effort.

  “We’re all going to die,” Cherry screeched. “Evil is coming!”

  “This is the same crap she pulled on Bay,” Aunt Tillie argued. “It’s a bunch of nonsense.”

  “I bet it works on kids,” Terry’s anger was back. “I heard what you said to that girl. I haven’t decided what I’m going to charge you with concerning that, but I’ll come up with something.”

  “Yeah, and then we’ll stab you with a big stick.” Thistle made a move for her stick, but Terry held it over his head.

  “I think you’d better start talking now, Ms. Brucker. If you don’t … you’re going to find yourself in trouble.”

  “Oh, we’re already in trouble,” Cherry said, her gaze landing on Bay and causing my niece to shuffle from one foot to the other. “Evil is almost here.”

  Terry narrowed his eyes, his patience completely frayed. “And I’m done messing around. You’re under arrest.”

  The relief spreading through my chest at Terry’s words didn’t last long. Everything was going to be okay. I was sure of it … until I heard the unmistakable sounds of a wagon, accompanied by people talking, and realized the renaissance people were returning.

  It was only then that I recognized we weren’t quite yet safe.

  Ten

  “ W hat is that?”

  Terry straightened his frame and stared over the bushes, his eyes widening when the caravan loitered into view.

  “Those are the other renaissance festival folks,” I supplied. “They were here the first night and then disappeared by the next morning.”

  “Leaving Sticky Hands Cherry behind to steal my silver!” Aunt Tillie barked.

  “That’s not a very good nickname,” Clove said. “You should come up with something cuter than that. How about Big Butthead Brucker? That sounds better.”

  “It does have the alliteration,” Bay agreed, shifting a bit closer to Terry as she eyed the approaching festival workers. She didn’t appear to be in the mood to show off her vocabulary. “Do robbers usually travel in packs like that?”

  “Not that I’ve ever seen outside of the big city, sweetheart.” Terry absently stroked her hair, his eyes never moving from the incoming visitors. “When it happens in the city they usually have motorcycles.”

  “I’ve been thinking about getting a motorcycle,” Aunt Tillie said. “I’d look totally badass on one.”

  “Would you get a tattoo?” Thistle asked. “Bikers always have tattoos.”

  “I don’t feel the need to follow trends,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I set my own trends. I don’t need a tattoo. I’d simply wear a combat helmet.”

  “Oh, that would look totally cool,” Thistle drawled. “No one would laugh at an old lady on a motorcycle wearing a combat helmet. You’d totally set trends.”

  “You’re on my list, mouth.”

  “What else is new?”

  “Stop talking, Thistle.”

  “Both of you stop talking,” Terry ordered. “We need to pull it together here. We have a gang of … renaissance festival workers … approaching. Do you have any idea how intense this could get?”

  The workers looked as confused as us, which bolstered my courage. They’re renaissance festival workers, for crying out loud. How dangerous could they be? I puffed out my chest and moved around the bushes, drawing Jonathan’s attention as he hopped down from the wagon and fixed me with a quizzical look.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Oddly enough, I was just about to ask you that myself.” I was thankful my voice didn’t crack. I sounded stronger than I felt. “What are you doing here?”

  Jonathan’s expression was blank. “Picking up Cherry. We agreed to meet here before separating yesterday morning. We had an errand to run and she didn’t want to leave. She said she would be camping here.”

  Oh, well, that was interesting. “I see. The thing is, she told us you abandoned her and she had no choice but to stay with us until she called for someone else to pick her up.”

  “She also said that you stole her stuff and drugged her,” Thistle added, moving around Terry and gesturing with her fingers. “Give me my stick.”

  Terry wordlessly handed it to her, which surprised me. Of course, he might’ve been worried a fight was about to break out and wanted her armed with more than her mouth.

  Thistle brandished her stick, shaking it at Jonathan to make sure he stared in her direction. “We don’t like you people. We think you’re bad … and stealers.”

  “Thieves,” Bay corrected, shaking her head. “Sometimes I think you say stuff like that just to bug me.”

  “That’s a little cousin’s job,” Terry supplied. “She’s only doing her job to the best of her ability.”

  Bay made an exaggerated face. “Are you taking her side?”

  “Oh, honey, I have no idea,” Terry said, causing me to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at his frustrated expression. “I wasn’t really listening. This entire thing is making me uncomfortable.”

  Bay wasn’t about to be ignored. “Why?”

  “Because this woman is a thief who said so
me horrible things to you. I don’t want to wander too far away from her, but there’s a lot more people over there, and they’re wearing frilly shirts in the middle of a field and I think it’s odd they’re pulling a wagon through here. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

  Bay held her hands palms out and shrugged. “Why don’t we just ask them?”

  “That’s a great idea, Bay,” I enthused. I wasn’t keen to agree with her as much as I was eager to put this behind us. “We should just ask them, Terry. I think that’s our best option.”

  “Oh, well, you would surely know better than me on that front,” Terry boomed. “I’m only a police officer.”

  I blew out a sigh, relieved. “I’m glad you agree. I’ll take it from here. I am in charge, after all.”

  For a moment I thought Terry would put up an argument, but a glance at Cherry had him changing his mind. “Fine. Go nuts. Handle this yourself. Just … be careful if they try to grab you or something.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Thistle offered. “I have a stick.”

  “Oh, well, good.”

  I ignored Terry’s tone and approached Jonathan with what I hoped was a friendly look. “So, we’re having a bit of a thing over here. I don’t expect you to understand it … unless you’re a part of it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jonathan admitted. “We ran to Traverse City and did the job we were contracted for early – they called to see if it was possible and we were happy to get it out of the way. Cherry insisted on staying behind because she felt that she was needed here.”

  “I see.” I risked a glance at Cherry and found her cheeks coloring as she stared at the horizon, searching for something only she could see. “Does she do this often? Say that she sees something in her visions and make an excuse to separate from you guys, I mean.”

  “Um, I don’t know.” Jonathan looked legitimately confused. “She likes time to herself. She says that’s when the visions flow clearest.”

  “She says our thoughts flood her mind and give her a headache,” a woman, a cute blonde with a blasé expression on her face, added to the conversation. “I think she’s just talking to hear herself talk, but I don’t get a vote.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Thistle muttered. “Her boobs are hanging out of her top.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

  “You can’t vote when your boobs are hanging out of your top. Aunt Tillie told me.”

  Aunt Tillie refused to avert her gaze despite my heated glare. “What? That’s a thing.”

  “You need to stop telling them stuff like that,” I hissed. “They believe it when you say certain things. It’s going to cause them to grow up warped.”

  Aunt Tillie didn’t look bothered by the assertion. “You invited a thief who mentally terrorized Bay into our house. I think the girls prefer my brand of knowledge over your brand of charity.”

  “Oh, whatever.” I rolled my neck until it cracked, something occurring to me. “You probably shouldn’t talk about someone else’s boobs, Thistle. That’s rude.”

  “I agree, Chief Terry said, focusing on Jonathan. “Go back to the morning you left this woman here. Why did you do it?”

  “Because she said it was important that she have time to clear up her visions,” Jonathan answered. “It happens about once a month when we’re traveling. We’re used to it.”

  “And you were always going to return and pick her up?” I asked.

  Jonathan nodded. “We’re actually three hours late. We were supposed to be here before the sun – the sun messes with Cherry’s visions and forces her to sleep in the wagon while we’re traveling – but we got held up in traffic.”

  “Huh. I guess that makes sense.” Things slipped into place for me. “Um, just out of curiosity, does Cherry always return with a special gift when she takes one of these sojourns?”

  Jonathan immediately bobbed his head. “She’s a people person. People pay her with gifts because she doesn’t want to deal with anything as crass as crash … well, unless that’s all the people have to offer. She doesn’t want to be rude and turn down gifts even though she would do what she does for no compensation.”

  “Yeah, I think she might be putting one over on you.” I shared a knowing look with Terry. “She’s a thief, not a psychic. She doesn’t earn gifts from people. She waits until they fall asleep and then steals from them.”

  “Oh.” Jonathan didn’t look particularly surprised. “I wondered if it was something like that. I couldn’t see people parting with antique jewelry like that, but … hey, I wasn’t there.”

  “Well, you’re here now,” Terry said, straightening. “Ms. Brucker is being taken into custody. And you’ll be expected to answer some questions before being allowed to leave.”

  “Okay, sure.” Jonathan exhaled heavily. “I don’t suppose we could camp in your field while that’s going on, could we?”

  He had to be kidding. When I flicked my eyes to Aunt Tillie I found her watching me with hateful eyes. She was waiting for me to fail, even though I’d clearly learned my lesson.

  “I don’t see why you can’t stay,” I answered after a beat. “Just keep in mind that the girls and Aunt Tillie will be watching the entire time, and they’ll stab you with sticks if you screw up.”

  Jonathan wasn’t bothered by my answer. “That sounds like a normal stop for us. Thanks.”

  TERRY TOOK CHERRY into custody and questioned the rest of the festival workers before declaring them “stupid but not dangerous.” Terry was diligent while grilling Jonathan – especially about looking in the window of the house and whether or not he let Sugar out and locked her in the shed – but Jonathan denied knowledge of the dog at all and Terry cut him loose.

  By the time he made his way back to the house it was almost time for dinner – Marnie and Winnie were due to arrive at any moment – and he was more than happy to join us for a Sunday meal. I couldn’t help but worry it would be my last meal when my sisters heard what happened, but I couldn’t dwell on that just yet. I still had questions.

  “Did she admit to putting Sugar in the shed?” Bay asked, sitting on the footstool between Terry’s feet as he got comfortable and sipped his iced tea.

  “She’s bucking for a deal – and claiming that her psychic powers allow demons to invade her brain occasionally and those demons steal – so she hasn’t admitted much,” Terry replied. “She did it, though, honey. I managed to get most of the story from her between bouts of psychic visions.”

  “She saw things?” Bay tilted her head to the side, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder as she considered what Terry told her. “Did she see what’s going to happen to me?”

  “No, honey, she didn’t.” Terry turned serious. “She never saw what was going to happen to you.”

  “Terry is right, Bay,” I prodded. “She was putting on a show. You of all people know that no one’s future is set in stone. You’re a good girl. You’ll stay a good girl. You can’t worry about things like this, because you can’t control them.”

  “That was very well said, Twila,” Terry offered, causing me to beam, “but that’s not why she shouldn’t worry about it.”

  My smile slipped. “Excuse me?”

  “That woman was a fraud, Bay,” Terry pressed. “She doesn’t see the future. She made that up because it was her way in. She miscalculated when she came across your family. She thought you’d automatically believe what she said. She thought that you girls made Twila and Tillie especially vulnerable.

  “What she didn’t realize is that you girls made Twila and Tillie more protective,” he continued. “Other people might’ve been dazzled by her, sweetheart. Other people might’ve been sold on her act. Your family is too strong for that, though.”

  Bay pursed her lips. “But she has the gift. That’s what she said. I have a gift, too, although I’m not supposed to talk about it in front of you because Mom says it makes you uncomfortable.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not ever uncomfortable around you, Bay,” Terry pressed, causing my heart to warm as he soothed her shredded emotions. “I love you very much.”

  “You love us, too, right?” Clove always opted to be needy at the worst time.

  Instead of chiding her, Terry winked in affirmation. “I love you all,” he confirmed.

  “Except me,” Aunt Tillie interjected.

  “Except Aunt Tillie.” Terry scooted forward a bit on his chair, making sure Bay’s eyes remained on him. “You have a gift. It’s something real. It’s something inside of you. Ms. Brucker was faking a gift because she wanted to be special. You’re already special.

  “You have the best heart of anyone I know, Bay,” he continued. “Yes, Clove, before you ask, you have a good heart, too. You’re not going to hurt anyone, Bay, because it’s not in you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Bay nodded, solemn. “You’re saying Thistle doesn’t have a good heart.” She cracked a smile to let Terry know she was kidding before ducking her head to avoid Thistle’s cuff.

  “Knock that off,” Terry ordered, grabbing Thistle’s wrist to still her. “Believe it or not, you’re a good girl, too. You have a wonderful heart … it’s just buried really deep because you like pretending to be the villain.”

  “I am the villain,” Thistle countered. “I don’t pretend anything.”

  “You’re not fooling me.” Terry released her and smiled when the corners of Thistle’s lips curved. “See. I knew you had a good heart. Only someone with a good heart wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face.”

  Thistle fought to erase her smile, but failed. “Fine. I’m a good girl.”

  I giggled at her downtrodden expression. “You’re all good.”

  “You are,” Terry agreed. “I don’t want you worrying about what that woman told you, Bay. She was making it up. She’s … evil.”

  “And not evil like Aunt Tillie,” Thistle said. “She’s bad evil, not fun evil.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Aunt Tillie sat on the couch and rested her feet on the coffee table. “Speaking of evil, Winnie and Marnie just pulled into the driveway. What are you going to tell them about this weekend?”