by J. M. Miller
Ms. Mitchell smiled wider. “Great. It was good to see you all. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Thanks, Ms. Mitchell. You too,” LJ replied as Ms. Mitchell walked down the slate steps. Flakes of white peppered the air, drifting lazily to the ground. “Snow,” LJ whispered.
As Carson backed away from the door, LJ pushed forward. I ran my hand up her back and moved her hair off her shoulder so I could plant a small kiss on her neck. She smiled as she watched the snow.
“LJ,” I whispered to her ear, hearing Carson and Pop talking as they moved to the kitchen. I needed to see what was in the envelope.
“I know,” she whispered back. “I just wanted to watch for a second.” She turned around and I reached for the door, closing it behind her as she pressed her body to me. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I can’t remember who Ms. Mitchell is,” she said against my chest. “I know I’ve seen her, I just can’t think from where.”
I kissed her hair calmly, screaming inside my mind while another piece of my heart shredded. After taking a full breath, I said, “It’s okay. She’s the school nurse. Whatever she gave your dad is important. C’mon, let’s go see.”
Carson and Pop had taken seats at the breakfast bar with the envelope’s contents already spilled in front of them. LJ sat beside Carson and I stood beside her, looking over her shoulder at the loose papers and a second, smaller manila envelope. Gavin was seated sideways at the far end of the bar with his cast propped on the back of his chair, watching us and digging into a bag of chips.
“It’s more on Dahlia,” Pop said. “There’s a picture of her in here.” He slid it over to LJ.
“It’s a copy of the picture we found in Janine’s trunk. What else you got?” I asked as Carson and Pop both picked up a few pages.
“Looks like another census. This one’s from eighteen eighty, after Dahlia’s death. Joseph Platt is here and below him is a woman named Nancy. Joseph Platt the second is still there, listed as eleven years old. And there’s a three-year-old girl named Ann.”
“So Joseph remarried,” LJ said, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers.
I kissed the top of her head and caught a sideways glance from Carson. His eyes were relaxed and kind, a huge change from this morning. I was so thankful he listened, so glad he understood and chose to help.
“Here are two certificates of death,” Carson said, flipping between two pages. “One’s for a Joseph Platt the third, and the other is for Robert Platt. It looks like Robert was his son. He was born in nineteen thirteen, died in nineteen sixty-six.” Carson handed them to me while he picked up some others. “The rest of these look like corresponding birth certificates. Nothing really stands out.”
Pop opened the other manila envelope and removed the pages inside. His squinted at a page and his mouth went slack.
“Pop,” I said, squeezing LJ’s hand to reassure her. Whatever Pop was staring at shocked him. “What is it?”
“I can’t believe it,” Pop murmured.
Carson bent closer to the page Pop was holding. “It’s a copy of an obituary of Mary Goodwin.”
Goodwin. Goodwin. That sounded familiar.
Pop still hadn’t said anything so Carson continued. “Mary Goodwin, daughter of Robert and Francis Platt, died March seventh. She was an avid reader of romance novels and loved to bake. She’s survived by her daughter and son-in-law, Joan and David Dumas, and granddaughter, Heather Shadows.”
Mom?
I dropped LJ’s hand and lunged around Carson to snatch the page from Pop’s hand. “What the hell is this?” I snapped.
Pop raked through the other pages from the second manila envelope. “I don’t know.”
“Shadows? They’re your relatives?” Carson asked after he backed up next to LJ.
“Not Pop’s. My mother is Heather,” I said, staring at the names. “Her maiden name was Dumas. Joann and David Dumas were her parents. What the hell does this mean?” Why is their information in here?
“Here are Robert and Francis Platt’s death certificates. Robert’s lists Joseph Platt the third as his father.”
“So if this is right, I’m…”
Pop glanced up at me with eyes as wide as my own. “I had no idea, Ben. Why would Genie do this?”
My body shook as I tried to concentrate on what it all meant. I’m a descendant of Dahlia. What the hell was Janine researching us for? How long had she known? Did she know before she invited me to live here? Did she know before she invited Pop to live here?
“You met Genie after she met Ms. Mitchell’s mom, Elise,” I stated. “You said you met her after.”
“Yes,” Pop confirmed, looking through the other papers. “We met at a diner in Lancaster, across the street from the unemployment office. Next thing I knew, she offered me a job. A few months later, she offered me the groundskeeper’s house.”
I clenched my jaw and paced the length of the room. “She knew about you before you met. She set it all up.”
“But why?” Carson piped in.
I growled as aggravation surged through me. Then I noticed LJ’s frightened eyes. I was making her nervous. I needed to calm down. Taking more deep breaths, I walked back to Pop.
“You’re right,” he said. “It was no coincidence. She has my info in here too.”
“You were her access to Dalia’s line. Did you meet her after I was born?” I asked.
“No. It was just after your mom and dad got married, not long before your birth.”
“This has taken a real turn,” Carson breathed out.
“There’s nothing else in here to explain why,” Pop said, scattering the other pages across the counter. The lines in his forehead scrunched together and his nostrils flared. “She lied to me,” he said. “She used my friendship as some kind of link to the curse. Was this all some kind of game for her?”
“Sounds more like desperation,” Carson said. “But she did position pieces like she was playing chess, as though she knew what needed to happen. She left you all parts of this property to bring you together.” The doorbell rang, cutting him off. “That’s probably Simone. You guys are okay with her knowing all of this, right?”
I nodded and moved closer to LJ, needing her more than ever. This information only made everything more frustrating. We were still missing something.
“You’re related to Dahlia and I’m related to Charles,” LJ said simply. I nodded and she looped her arms around my middle. “Back together after all these years.”
My body shook. I tried to contain it, to be stable for her, but every nerve fought back with an internal assault. LJ’s arms cinched tighter, supporting me. I glanced over at Pop. His elbows were propped on the breakfast bar and he held his face in his hands. He was as shocked as I was. Janine had brought him here preemptively to get to my family’s line. She helped him get custody to bring me closer.
Why?
I’d been here since I was ten. If she needed me here to end the curse, seven years before her death had to be plenty of time to get that done. But it obviously wasn’t.
“What’s going on?” I heard Simone say from the front foyer.
I looked toward the door. Simone stared at all of us in the kitchen as she removed her thick winter jacket. She was dressed down, wearing jeans, a plain T-shirt, and very little makeup. I barely recognized her. Carson took hold of her arm and steered her toward the living room. Yeah, probably not smart to walk her in the middle of this train wreck without prepping her first.
“I just don’t understand,” Pop mumbled, lifting his head and raking his hands through the papers again. “Why didn’t she just tell me?”
“Who knows,” I replied angrily. “She shouldn’t have kept any of this to herself.” I cupped LJ’s chin and leaned down to her. “She should’ve given someone all the answers so you didn’t have to go through this. I’ll keep looking, no matter what,” I whispered, kissing her lips as a few tears ran from her eyes.
“And then what?” she asked softly. “I don’t
want you wasting your life. You have to promise me that you will quit when I’m too far gone.”
“No, I can’t do that. I—”
“Ben,” she cut me off. “We don’t even know. If I’m gone, there may be no coming back.”
“Don’t,” I said forcefully, slowly guiding my fingers into her hair. I took a shallow, shaky breath while the pain of it all welled in my eyes. “No.”
The doorbell rang again as LJ’s fingers wiped the tears from my face. I slid my thumbs across her cheeks to do the same for her.
“What are you doing here?” Carson’s voice came from the foyer.
LJ and I turned to see him standing with the front door opened a crack, bridging his arm between the door and its jamb.
“I told you not to come without calling. Wait… You came here high, Rina? I can’t believe this shit!”
“I came by yesterday,” Rina’s voice grew loud enough to hear. “I talked to LJ for a little while and I told her I had some things for her from Aunt Janine.”
Before I had a chance to question LJ about talking to her mom, she was out of her seat, marching toward the door. I followed, knowing this screwed-up day was about to get worse and unsure how much more LJ could take.
“You were here yesterday?” Carson asked, turning and looking at LJ as we walked up behind him. “LJ?”
LJ ducked under Carson’s arm and charged outside. “I told you at the hospital not to bother us.”
Oh shit!
Carson and I ran down the steps after LJ as she backed a very terrified Rina out onto the lawn.
“LJ!” Carson yelled. “Stop! You’ve got to let this go.”
But Rina was the one who stopped first. She clutched a shoebox to her wool coat, breathing heavily as LJ stopped in front of her. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know that.” She was jittery, like a mouse caught in a trap. “I’m leaving town soon.”
“Yeah, you also told me last night at the hospital that you’d quit using. Look at you now,” LJ scoffed.
“LJ,” Carson said, grabbing her arm softly. “Sweetie, let’s go back inside.” He’d heard exactly what I’d heard. Their trip to the hospital was three weeks ago, not last night.
“I was sober,” Rina said, sobbing. “I was sober until last night, after I came here to talk to you. I needed that to happen though, LJ. So, thank you. I know now that I can’t handle the stress of sobriety without help. I need help. That’s why I’m planning to check in somewhere,” she said.
Carson continued to coax LJ toward the house. I followed his lead, sliding my hand along her waist, hoping she’d come with me. Instead, she grabbed the side of her head and bent over a little, sucking air through her teeth.
A headache.
Who was it?
I glanced at Carson then back toward the house where Pop, Gavin, and Simone had gathered on the steps outside. They stared at us nervously.
“LJ, baby,” I said, lifting her chin lightly and staring into her broken eyes. “C’mon, let’s go back inside,” I pleaded.
She looked a million worlds away, but she let me guide her. Just as we shifted to turn, she dipped away from me and lunged back toward Rina.
“I hope you realize what this means,” LJ said, wrapping her arms around her mom and pressing her lips to her cheek. “I still love you.”
“No! LJ,” I grabbed at her arms, unlocking them from Rina and locking my own around her. “Why did you do that?” I buried my face into her neck. “I can’t lose more of you.”
“She’ll be strong enough to stay clean now,” LJ said.
“Oh, no,” Carson whispered as he realized what had happened.
I opened my eyes to Rina’s shocked face. The shoebox fell from her slack hands, spilling its contents out onto the snow.
Papers were the last to fall, sweeping through the air as Carson placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get her back inside.”
“Wait,” I replied, unlocking my arms from LJ and letting Carson take her. He fished a tissue out of his pocket and pressed it to LJ’s nose.
I turned my attention back to Rina, who was bent down, tossing items back into the box. “What is this?” I asked, picking up a photocopied picture of Dahlia sticking out of the snow. “Where did you get this?” I asked more forcefully when she didn’t answer.
“Aunt Janine’s safety deposit box. I told LJ yesterday that I’d get it to her since her name was in it,” Rina said, holding up a sticky note with the words Lila Janine written in cursive.
“Shit,” I said, tearing through the papers.
Nothing. I tossed a page.
Nothing. I tossed another.
“Ben?” Carson asked. He was at my side suddenly, wiping snow off other papers.
“Is it true?” Rina asked, looking up to LJ. “It’s true, isn’t it? Oh, God. All this time I thought she was crazy.”
Sliding another paper aside, I spotted a solid object wrapped in beige material. I grabbed it, immediately feeling a weight similarity. My heart jolted, pounding all my hopes, all my wishes, fiercely enough to split my chest in half. “LJ,” I called.
Her hand slipped over my shoulder before she knelt beside me. Her fingers pinched the tissue to her nose as she asked, “Is that…?”
Looking into her eyes, I saw the same fear and anticipation that was pulsing through my veins. This had to be it. I ripped off the thin twine binding it and unfolded the stiff fabric.
“The last stone,” LJ said, running her hand over mine.
Feeling the inscription underneath, I flipped it over.
“One wish for life, to break the whole. The blood of my line. Their body, their soul,” I read out loud. The words invaded my mind, connecting everything that had happened inside of LJ’s house. The families. The bloodlines.
Pop stepped next to Carson, carrying LJ’s jacket. “The last stone?”
I stood up with LJ, handed Carson the stone, and took LJ’s jacket from Pop. “It’s me. Janine knew the whole time. She knew the only way to end it all was for someone from Dahlia’s line to love someone from Charles’.” After wrapping LJ’s bomber jacket over her shoulders, I pushed my fingers into her snowy hair. “Looks like I have a wish to make,” I whispered close to her lips before kissing them gently.
I ran to the barn first to grab a knife and a sledge before going to the well. My thoughts were the clearest they’d been in a long time. Nothing else mattered.
Only her.
I shoved through the path of wiry branches until the well came into view. It looked so sad in the winter, colorless, lifeless. The moss of the roof and inside the mortar cracks had dried to a dull shade of black. Even the beige stones appeared gray. Today’s snow was the only redeeming feature, blanketing it all in beauty. Small, downy flakes continued to fall as I moved closer.
Stepping up to the well’s base, I placed a hand on the top stones and peered inside. I’d been here before with wishes not meant to be granted. My mother and father never loved me enough to stop their addictions. Harper died. I’d lost them all. Even though it hurt, I know now it all happened for a reason. And here I stand again, this time knowing my wish would come true because in some weird, historical way it was destined. LJ and I were meant to be together. To end the curse. To end the heartache.
Would Dahlia be happy with this end? Would Janine? Would they be at peace knowing that LJ and I were together?
I pulled out my pocket knife and pressed the tip to my palm, digging it in a bit then slicing down. Blood seeped heavier from the deepest point then pooled before traveling down my life line. My only concern now was if it would make her whole again. Will it give everything back? There was only one way to find out.
Here goes.
I flattened my palm against the well, smearing my warm blood onto the cold stone.
“I love her. She is my body and my soul. She was the breath of air when I was drowning, the flash of lightning in my blackened storm. She is the one. She is my wish.”
Sometime during my
profession, I’d grabbed the sledge. I released all my pent-up anger and suppressed pain onto the well, smashing the roof and crushing several stones. After several more hits, I glanced back toward the grounds, wiping the sweat from my brow and breathing heavily. LJ stood just inside the tree line, watching me.
Needing to know if it was all over, if the curse was gone, I dropped the sledge and ran to her. She took a single step in my direction, but staggered. Her hands reached out to the side, gripping the air in search of balance. “LJ!” I called in panic, watching her head dip forward and her body go limp. She fell to her knees. Twigs snapped under her dead weight, crushing my insides and driving my feet to move even faster. Before her upper body had a chance to topple over, I dove beside her and pulled her into my lap. The side of her chest pressed against mine with a shallow intake of air. “Babe?” I skimmed a hand over her cheek and watched her eyelids flutter like she was asleep.
Her eyes slowly opened and the corners of her lips tipped up in a weak smile.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, my voice quieter than the pounding of my terrified heart.
“I just…” she paused, closing her eyelids tightly for a moment. “Everything tunneled. I was going to sit down… I guess that didn’t happen.” A breathy chuckle escaped her lips.
“You’ve been through so much. Let’s get you inside so you can rest.” I stood up with her in my arms, worried that something was still wrong, that nothing had changed.
“I love you, Ben,” she said, running a hand up around my neck and pulling my face down. Her lips met mine sweetly, proving her words.
Even though I wanted to kiss her forever, I had to break away. Getting her home to rest was far more important. “I love you, too,” I admitted.
She squirmed in my arms. “You don’t have to carry me. I can walk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I actually feel completely fine now.”
I set her feet down and held her waist to support her. She gave me a pointed look and jumped a couple of times lightly. “See. It’s weird, but I’m fine. I’m not lightheaded at all.” Not fully convinced, I kept an arm around her waist as we walked the last few steps to the tree line. She stopped suddenly. “How do we know it’s over?”
