“John Arthur told me about you.”
“Me?” A chill rattled Carolyn to the bones. “Your husband? You’re giving me the willies.” Carolyn rubbed her arms. “He mentioned me? How?”
“A star will come.” Viola stared into the pine trees.
“A star, as in a celestial—”
“No.” Viola turned to her. “He meant an actress.”
“He said this before he died?” The chill crept deeper.
“Why do you think I was so eager to let the studio film here?”
“I thought you needed the money.”
“Well…it helps but I’ve invested well. I didn’t do it for the money.”
“So what did John Arthur say?”
“Don’t get weirded out over it.” Viola batted a hand through the air. “He’d had a vision. He was puzzled by it but mentioned that ‘when the towers fell’ it would happen.”
“Towers? What towers?”
“For years, I thought he meant the spires on the old bridge to Bar Harbor. But they toppled in 1979 and nothing came of it.” Viola chuckled.
“’79?”
“I think you’re the savior he spoke of.”
“Savior? I don’t know about that.” Carolyn meant not to discredit the old woman’s stories, but didn’t want to perpetuate Viola’s longing for the past. “Viola, I want to tell you something. It’s hard for me to talk about.” She rubbed her bicep for warmth. “Michael and I were”—she huffed—“were sexually assaulted by a bully back in high school. Well, technically junior high but…my point is…I don’t really have a point. I just need to share. I’ve never really told anyone other than Michael, of course. And only recently did I admit to myself about it all.”
Viola reached across the table and caressed Carolyn’s hand. “I’m honored that you feel comfortable enough to divulge it to me. The pain. It must…it’s so deep.”
“It is. Still. But I’ve forgiven. It’s freeing. You never forget, though.”
“Did they arrest him?”
“He died. He was in a horrific car accident months later.”
“He got his payback.” Viola sipped tea.
Carolyn tossed away any connection to the bridge’s spires toppling and her rape. Actually, it was 1980 anyway. What am I thinking?
Viola set her cup down. “This letting go of your past is freeing? No? Perhaps it’ll allow you to do greater things.”
“Like be the savior?” Carolyn sensed the woman still clutched onto the idea.
“Perhaps.”
“Well, it’s already helped me in my career. I’m much more comfortable on stage than—”
An explosion rocked the porch. The women jumped. The tea set rattled.
“What in the Lord?” Viola clutched her chest.
Another—louder—crash occurred.
Carolyn flinched. Her mind flashed to—a dream? déjà vu? On the beach. She anticipated Berniece and Rebecca bolting out from a night sky and Rudy’s corpse staggering along Wisteria Beach.
Michael appeared on the deck. “Sorry.” He placed a hand on Carolyn’s trembling shoulders and broke her from her reverie. “Terrence is having the pylons to the old bridge removed. They weren’t supposed to start blasting till later.”
“The pylons?” Viola head turned to Carolyn.
“Yeah. He wants to put in a fishing pier. The old decking is unsafe.” Michael eyed the place settings. “Room for one more?”
Carolyn smoothed the napkin on her lap. “This is supposed to be ladies only.” She winked.
“Since when?” Michael pulled out an empty wicker chair. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”
“What’s tomorrow?” Viola asked.
“I have a meeting in New York,” Carolyn said to Viola, as she scooted aside to allow Michael room to sit.
“New York? I thought you were staying here?”
“I am long-term. I’ll be back at night. It’s just one day. There’s a new opportunity.” Carolyn sipped tea.
“The movie sequel?” Viola passed a plate of cookies to Michael, who refused with a hand up and a head shake.
“They’re offering her seven figures,” Michael said.
Carolyn shrugged apologetically. “I can’t turn down the money.”
“Since when?” Viola set her napkin down. “Well, have it your way. I imagine I’d do the same if someone offered me a million dollars.”
“You would?” Carolyn asked.
Viola tilted her head at an angle. “Maybe not. When do you leave?”
“We fly out of Bangor early in the morning,” Michael said. “I’m going for support, as always.”
Viola pointed her nose toward the silent radio. “It should be a good day for traveling.” She rose. “Let me check the muffins.”
When the old woman left, with the flap of the swing porch door behind her, Carolyn turned to Michael. “Do you really think I should do this?”
“The movie? You said it’d pay for your new house here on the island…and then some.”
“I know. I know.” She picked at a cuticle. “I did say that, didn’t I.”
Birds cawed over the harbor. Trees swayed in a subtle breeze. Familiar faces worked on Michael and Terrence’s house across the way.
“Look at this view.” Michael folded his arms at his chest with his back to Carolyn. “It’s just spectacular. What’s not to love about this place? I’m so glad we moved here.”
“I know and here I am jet-setting already.” Carolyn’s hair caught in a breeze. The scents were similar to Salem’s.
“What time’s your meeting?” He stared out into the harbor. “I could stop in at that bagel shop I love in the financial district while you discuss business.”
“We are having breakfast at Windows on the World at 9:00. You’re coming with. The production company’s paying.”
Another explosion rocked the porch.
“Good God!” Michael shouted. “That one even scared me.” He turned around. “Carolyn?”
Vertigo threatened Carolyn’s balance. Her mind flashed to—a memory?—blood dripping from Rudy’s mouth as he sailed—like a ghost?—over Wisteria Beach. Carolyn regained control. Viola’s porch returned to focus. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Carolyn, are you all right?” Michael was crouched by her side. He took her hand.
“I’ll be fine. I guess I didn’t sleep as well as I thought I had.”
Michael rose and studied his friend. “Maybe you should lie down.”
“No. No.” She reached for her cup but her hand shook too much.
“Gawd.” Michael helped her with it and set it down, haphazardly off its plate. “I didn’t sleep well either. I had this dream about Rebecca and Berniece.”
A buzz filled Carolyn’s core. “What?”
Michael chuckled. “Yeah, they picked me off the beach…” In dramatic flair, he threw his arms out. “And we flew up into the night.”
Carolyn slumped and Michael rushed to her side. The dream? The experience? The vision? It all came back to her…
Above Salem’s Hawthorne Hotel, Rebecca, Carolyn, and Berniece hovered, like witches sitting on broomsticks, yet none were present. They waited for Loni Hodge, the Official Witch of Salem, to meet them.
“Embrace the mystery, Carolyn.” Berniece’s chubby face was fixed in front of Carolyn.
By the hotel’s chimney stacks, Rebecca floated like a docked weather balloon, silently monitoring. “You have to embrace the unknown…beyond reality. Believe it. It surrounds us all every day.”
“Indeedy,” Berniece added, “every moment of every hour. Like all those weird co-winky-dents.”
“Coincidences, Berniece. Even as an apparition you still—”
“Oh let me be.” Berniece’s ethereal form shot over to Rebecca, whose body shined brighter.
“Carolyn?” Michael’s distant voice gushed desperation. “What’s happening? Where are you going?” She couldn’t see him, only hear the sound of his voice still back o
n the porch in Summerwind. Until…
“Here comes Michael.” Rebecca moved closer to the edge of the six-story building, where the man materialized, ghost-white but regaining color.
“Trust the real you,” Rebecca said to Carolyn and held a hand up toward Michael and reeled him in.
“What’s…what’s going on?” he said.
“’S okay.” Berniece neared closer to him but spoke to Carolyn, who now hugged her knees, crouched by the half-wall. “He ain’t gonna remember nothing. He ain’t like us.”
“Like us?” Carolyn muttered. “Like you…you mean?”
Rebecca emerged beside her. “No, Carolyn. You’re one of us too.”
“You mean like a…like a what?”
“Like a witch.” Rebecca brushed shoulders with Berniece’s, as the trio hung in the air over a breaking Salem morning. She placed a hand to your heart. “Allow it in. Trust the spirit.”
“Why me?” Carolyn asked. “Why am I so special?”
“Some us,” Berniece said, “just are. But you really special.”
“Huh.” Carolyn held Michael’s hand. His glassy eyes concerned her.
“He be fine. Trust.”
Another explosion. Light. A large white woman, with gray streaks in her black hair and a flowing gown to complement, appeared.
“Loni.” Rebecca and Berniece went to her. “Thank you.”
Loni looked to Carolyn and Michael and smiled. “They made it.”
“Yes, we took them from yesterday,” Rebecca said.
“What…what are you talking about?” Carolyn rose. She didn’t hover like the other woman. She shuffled over to them.
“Berniece here,” Loni said, “warned us about something very dark occurring in the city.”
“Salem?” Carolyn asked.
“No,” Berniece said.
“Boston? What is it?”
“Well,” Berniece said, “it might start in Boston but mostly New York. We ain’t ’tirely sure, as it ain’t tomorrow yet.”
“Tomorrow?” Carolyn looked to Rebecca for answers.
“I’m not sure,” Rebecca said. “It’s something only the dead know.”
“We’re gonna go there…to tomorrow,” Berniece said.
Loni looked out over the harbor and the rising sun. “Which may already be today.”
Berniece swooped over to Carolyn. “You can’t be there in New York. Boths ya.” A wispy, chubby finger pointed to Michael in a daze. Berniece’s mouth drew into a slit. “Perhaps many shouldn’t be there.” She shook her head. “I can’t tell. I’m too new. I just trying to change things. Make things right.”
Loni Hodge stepped between them. “You were right, Berniece, to come to us. Carolyn Sohier is too special. It’s not her turn.”
“My turn?”
“You’re more than your earthly self, Carolyn Sohier.” Loni’s face looked leathery and long fingernails clicked in an odd part-real-part-ghostly way. “Trust us. Trust the source.”
As Berniece wrought her hands, her fingers went through her palms. “Maybe I can save some others. I just don’t know what’s going to happen. Something awful.”
“You guys are weirding me out. Wasn’t I just on Summerwind?” The images of the beach, not being on Viola’s front porch, flashed. “Rudy.”
“Rudy?” Loni asked.
“It’s her dead manager,” Rebecca said. “The shmuck was trying to warn her too, but he don’t have no power. He was there on the beach when we picked her up.”
“Men,” Loni harrumphed. “What about the old woman you told me about?”
“Viola’s fine,” Rebecca said. “I helped finish her dream. That’s when Carolyn stepped in.”
“I stepped in?” Carolyn eyed Michael to see if he regained consciousness. She could use his support, but his gaze told her he had no ability to.
“Viola’s a whole other story,” Berniece said. “Yes, you stepped in. You helped coax the child back to the shore.”
“I did?”
“We do things,” Rebecca said, “that we’re not aware of. We help others in ways unimaginable. If it weren’t for you, Viola may not be. Your fans might not be. Michael might—”
“Don’t hurt him.” Carolyn looked to him again.
“There’s no hurt going on here.” Loni raised an arm. “We’re not evil.”
“I know that.” Carolyn touched her chest as the intuition flared in her core. “I can feel it.”
“Good. You ready?” Rebecca stood on the ledge. Berniece and Loni joined her.
“Me? What am I to do?”
“Grab Michael,” Rebecca said.
Carolyn went to her friend, who willingly got up and followed her. “Is this a dream?” she asked the witches.
“No,” they said, looking back from the ledge.
Carolyn held Michael by the shoulder as he shuffled along. “I’m not jumping off a building,” she told the trio.
Loni handed Berniece a vial. “Have them drink it when the time’s right. It’s the last of my potion.”
Rebecca shot off into the daybreak. Loni followed.
Berniece jumped from the ledge and dropped. “Woah!”
Carolyn ran to the half-wall. “Bernie?”
Berniece tumbled toward the ground, black gown flapping. “Good, Lordy!” Near the bottom, she stopped and then glided back up, meeting Carolyn face-to-face. “I still need to lose a little weight, even on the other side.” She belted a whiskey laugh that startled Michael. “Oh, he’s alive.” Berniece held out a hand to Carolyn. “It’s my honor to assist you.”
Carolyn touched the dead witch’s palm, and her feet lifted from the ground. “Holy shit.” She let go and dropped back down.
“C’mon. You’s got to learn.” Bernie held out a hand again. “Grab mine then Michael’s. He ain’t never gonna fly. Only women got the power to fly this high.”
Touching Bernie’s hand, Carolyn reached out to Michael. “Michael? Trust me.”
“Oh, he’ll trust you. He always has…always will.”
A clap of thunder. Light. A whirling dervish of vertigo. Darkness. A glowing beam. The sun peeked through clouds. Skyscrapers came into focus. Michael sat across from her and looked out over the New York skyline. They were in a function room of the World Trade Center’s Windows on the World. A waitress, strikingly similar to Berniece, poured coffee. Michael rose. “What the…?” A plane headed toward the building. Berniece poured a vial into their cups. “Drink! Drink now!”
Viola stepped out from the house. The porch door swung shut behind her. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you two.” She held up a plate of muffins. “Fresh. Come.”
Carolyn held Michael’s hand, as they sauntered out from between the inn and Viola’s place and rounded the porch. I’m here…in Summerwind.
“What’s gotten into you two?” Viola set the muffins on the table. Carolyn’s cup of tea was set were Michael’d left it, separate from the saucer. “Did you go off and check on the construction? I came out here five minutes ago and didn’t see you.”
Carolyn stepped onto the porch. “We…went to check on the explosions.”
“The explosions? What on earth are you talking about?” Viola pulled out her chair. “I’ve got fresh tea brewing.” She set Carolyn’s cup back on the plate.
Michael knitted his brow. “What explosions?”
“The pier to Bar Harbor? No?” Carolyn’s mind whirled. New York. Summerwind. “Viola, what day is it?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, Carolyn.” Viola pulled out Carolyn’s chair. “Come sit. You’re acting like an old lady forgetting things. A couple of days in retirement and you’re—”
“Retirement?” She remembered—both realities. She was supposed to be in New York City signing the new deal. “But instead I’m here.” Her mind flashed to sitting at Windows on the World with Michael—but no, it didn’t happen.
“Carolyn, you are acting weird.” Michael sat in his chair. “You were just telling us
how glad you were that you left show business. And now you don’t even know what day it is.”
“I left show business.” Her decision solidified in her gut. She remembered Michael would have no memory of the time travel like Berniece had said atop the Hawthorne Hotel.
Michael rolled his eyes. “You can take a girl off Broadway, but you can’t take the Broadway out of the girl.”
Rebecca came around the corner where Michael and Carolyn had emerged. “Good morning.” Her demeanor suggested that of a poker player pretending all was normal when she knew otherwise.
“Fresh, blueberry muffins,” Viola said. “Come. Grab a chair and join us.”
Rebecca climbed the two-step. When she reached the table, she placed a hand on Carolyn’s shoulder. “Morning.” Her knowing touch lingered.
“Morning,” Carolyn mumbled. The witch’s hand felt warm, and Carolyn’s core buzzed.
Viola clinked plates, setting one out for everyone, while Rebecca slid behind her to the radio. She caught Carolyn’s eye and switched it on. “Check the news?” She leaned against the railing and adjusted the volume, her face blanched with fear. She bit her lower lip.
The witches, Carolyn and Rebecca, realized something ominous occurred—a bone-deep chill shuddered inside, an intuitive knowing that Carolyn and Michael escaped fate through a warp in time.
The radio squelched into clarity. “It’s 8:55 here in Bar Harbor. We have a breaking story coming out of New York City this morning. A major fire is underway at the World Trade Center. We understand an explosion has occurred. We have very limited information at this time. One unconfirmed report states a plane has crashed into the building.”
THE END
Finishing a Good Book Sucks but There’s More…
…if you liked Summerwind Magick, you’ll love Tim on Broadway.
In this adventure, Timothy Benton yearns to see his favorite diva Carolyn Sohier perform at a once-in-a-lifetime concert. But getting tickets to this pricey event, when you’re down on your luck, can be a challenge. That’s where Javier, the hotter-than-Hades grocery boy Tim’s attracted to, comes in. Here’s an excerpt:
We parked the car at a little marina by the docks and boarded a boat to take us over to the hotel. The Summerwind Inn was on an island.
Summerwind Magick: Making Witches of Salem Page 36
