Samhain Secrets

by Jennifer David Hesse

  Detective Rhinehardt was astonished, but thrilled, to learn about Tadd’s drug operation. He figured Tadd must be responsible for providing heroin, not only to Edindale, but to the entire region and beyond. Now I understood how he was able to afford his ultra-expensive hobby. All his animals would have to be relocated to new wildlife sanctuaries as soon as possible.

  When we finally returned home after all the excitement, I was able to catch a few hours of sleep before my family arrived. At half past noon, they rang the bell and poured inside, bearing gifts, gossip, and yet more questions. Happily, I was able to provide some answers.

  We all gathered in the living room: Wes and me, my mom and dad, my oldest sister Megan, and my Grandma O’Malley. After the usual catching up, all eyes turned to me to recount the events of the past week, and to tell them what I knew about the ever-elusive Josephine.

  It was a little tricky to tell my story without mentioning magic spells, psychic visions, and ghostly apparitions, but I decided it was best to stick to the mundane facts. It was overwhelming enough for my family to learn about Josephine’s life as a rogue environmental activist and fugitive from the law—who nonetheless tried to do good things her whole life. I told them about Fredeline Paul and Sister Seeds, stressing Josephine’s generosity, passion, and kindness. I also told them about her light-hearted nature and her affinity for Native American culture.

  My mom was mostly quiet during my tale. When I finished by informing them that Tadd was being held without bail and would be facing multiple local, state, and federal charges, my mom took an envelope from her purse and handed it to me.

  “This came in the mail a couple days ago.”

  It was a postcard from Josephine. It had been sent from Missouri two weeks earlier and must have been misdirected before it finally reached my mom. On the front was a picture of a wolf. On the back was a handwritten message:

  I hope you’ll forgive me for my long absence.

  I wish things were different, but I’m auribus teneo

  lupum. You’re always in my heart, Little Sister.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Did you look up the Latin phrase?”

  My mom nodded. Wes pulled it up on his phone anyway and read the translation. “It means ‘I hold a wolf by the ears.’ It’s meant to convey a difficult situation where acting and not acting are equally dangerous.”

  “She knew she was in a tough spot,” I said. “She wanted to turn herself in for her part in the bombings. But, in doing so, she’d not only have to face the consequences, she’d also be breaking a promise she’d made to Gil and the others who were involved.”

  As Levi had told me, he’d figured out there were four people who participated in the Sorghum bombing: Gil, Davey, Josephine, and a fourth man named Allen Smith. Smith, who was later arrested for other crimes, had bragged to cell mates about masterminding the bombings. He died in prison before Levi had picked up the case, but he had provided enough information for Levi to begin piecing together the facts. Levi believed that Josephine’s role was to play lookout, and that she might have received a relatively light sentence in exchange for her testimony. Only, she didn’t want to betray her friends.

  Davey, on the other hand, had apparently decided to do just that. Gil found out and tried to stop him—and Davey ended up dead. Levi said there wasn’t enough evidence to pin his death on Gil. And, there was some indication that Davey might have been the victim of a deadly armed robbery. That was one mystery that might remain unsolved.

  I returned the postcard to my mom and brought out Josephine’s Black Hills gold jewelry, which I handed to my grandma. I sat on the ottoman next to her rocking chair and explained what it was. She held the necklace and two rings in her clenched fist for a brief moment. Then she gave one of the rings to me and patted my cheek.

  “I’d like to say one thing,” she said. “Josephine was my firstborn, and she flew from the nest much sooner than I would have liked. But all birds fly away eventually. By God’s grace, we bring our children into the world. We feed them and raise them as best as we can. But they don’t belong to us.”

  “Don’t tell that to my kids,” Megan said, half-jokingly. My mom murmured her agreement.

  Grandma smiled at them and reached for my hand. Her skin felt cool and papery and full of love. “It was a difficult period when Josephine left,” she continued. “But that was a very long time ago. She wrote to me, you know. She even called me a few times. And I finally came to understand that she was not mine to own or control. She was her own person, on her own journey. I’ve made peace with that. I had to.” She squeezed my hand. “I had to,” she repeated.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without crying. After all I’d been through lately, I was feeling extra emotional.

  “It’s interesting you say she was on a ‘journey,’” said Megan. “Because I always thought of her as an adventurer or a world traveler. In my mind, she was always a part of the family—just off on safari or something.” She laughed at herself. “Maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate, but that’s how I pictured her when I was a kid. That time she visited, she wore clothes that seemed exotic to me, with lots of beads and fringe. And she gave us cool gifts. Erin and I got leather coin purses and Keli got that Johnny Appleseed book. Of course, Alec wasn’t born yet.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘that time she visited’? I thought Grandma gave me that book.”

  “No, I remember it distinctly. I had just turned thirteen. So, you would have been, what, one year old?”

  I remembered Josephine telling me we had met once before. I had thought she was confused or mistaken.

  “That’s right,” Mom confirmed. “She came through town one autumn on her way to, or from, someplace else. I was so upset with her at the time—that she would breeze in like that without warning, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And then not stay more than a couple hours!”

  “I remember,” said Dad. “But then she called the next day, and you forgave her.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t stay mad at her. She was who she was.”

  I was stunned by all the revelations. Contrary to what I’d always thought, Aunt Josephine hadn’t cut off all ties with her family. There was more to her than I’d ever imagined.

  * * *

  At the visitation that evening, I introduced my family to Father Gabe. He was a likable young pastor whose manner seemed to strike the right balance between solemnity and sanguinity.

  When I’d met with him the other day, I was a little uncomfortable at first. It had felt somewhat strange to arrange a Catholic funeral for my free-spirited aunt—especially since I wasn’t Catholic myself. Though I still sometimes attended church for weddings, funerals, and occasional holidays with my family, I always felt like a visitor. I had chosen a different spiritual path many years ago. The teachings of my family’s religion simply weren’t relevant to me—no more so than any other major world religion.

  But that didn’t mean I held no respect for my family’s beliefs. That was largely why we were here today, at a Catholic prayer service.

  My family was duly impressed—by Father Gabe’s warmth, as well as by the general positivity of the service. They were also floored by the huge display of flowers sent from all over the world. I had a feeling Fern’s sisterhood played a big part in spreading the news of Josephine’s passing.

  As for me, I was impressed by the turnout. I stood near the casket between my mom and my sister and introduced them to more people than I could count. Wes’s parents came, as well as several of our friends and all of my coworkers from the law firm. Mila came, of course, as did Max and Catrina. When no one was listening, Catrina quietly told me she had felt a spiritual connection to Josephine ever since witnessing her “appearance” at our Samhain ritual.

  Gil Johnson was also there, a little less ebullient since his release from the hospital, but chatty nonetheless. He claimed he had suspected Tadd’s involvement in Josie’s death. He s
aid that, after talking with me, he got to thinking about Josie’s environmental activism and what she was doing in the woods. He had planned to show Tadd a picture of Josephine and gauge the businessman’s reaction. Little did Gil know, but Tadd already had Gil in his sights.

  Fern Lopez came to the visitation too—with, I was happy to see, Fredeline Paul. Both women were excited about their new collaboration. Fredeline would be joining the Sisterhood, and Fern would be sponsoring Fredeline’s business in Haiti. I told Fern I had information about the old commune property and reminded her to stop by my office. She said she would give me a call.

  Even Levi Markham stopped by to pay his respects. I still couldn’t get used to calling him Len. He shook my hand and asked if I’d have lunch with him sometime next week.

  “To talk about Josephine?” I asked.

  “Oh, well, sure. I mean, not necessarily.” A slow blush rose from his neck to his cheeks.

  I guess his shyness wasn’t part of the undercover act. I smiled to myself and ignored his awkwardness. “Are you still investigating Gil? Is there really any more you can do here in Edindale?”

  “I can’t tell you that, Keli. Let’s just say I’ll be talking to him. And I hope he decides to do the right thing. For Josephine, if for no other reason.”

  Farrah came up to us then, stunning in a fitted black jersey dress. “Your grandma is the sweetest thing,” she said. Then she turned to Levi. “I’m so disappointed you’re not an author. Now I still haven’t met one.”

  I laughed quietly. I knew she was actually thrilled to have met an FBI agent. Levi blushed again and sauntered off.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling Farrah aside. “See that short, dark-haired woman over there by herself? She came through the line before, but I didn’t catch her name.”

  “Want me to investigate?”

  “Would you? I’m just curious.”

  “Of course, you are. Curious is your middle name.”

  Farrah left to chat up the mystery woman, and Crenshaw walked over. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?” he asked.

  Wes appeared at my side and handed me a glass of water. “Way ahead of you buddy,” he said.

  Crenshaw bowed curtly and retreated. I could only shake my head.

  “Say, Wes,” I said, as a thought popped into my head.

  “Yes, babe?”

  “You never did tell me how you found me at the pumpkin patch the other day. No one knew I was going there, except maybe Zeke. I didn’t even know I was going until after I learned Fern would be there.”

  Wes smiled. “Okay, I’ll tell you. I wondered where you were, so I called Farrah. Even when you’re not together, you two usually keep tabs on each other. As it happened, she was with Randall at the law office when I reached her. And Pammy Sullivan had just called the office after running into you at the pumpkin patch. I guess she wanted to tell them you’d be attending that costume party. So, there you go. The grapevine in action.”

  “Ah, I see. Lucky timing.”

  “Yep. Feel better now?”

  “I do. Thank you.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “You really don’t like secrets, do you?”

  “I really don’t. At least, not unless I’m in on them.”

  Farrah returned and inserted herself between Wes and me. “Her name’s Emmy,” she said, in a low voice. “She works for Moonlight Maids Cleaning Service. Said she was a friend of Josephine’s.”

  “A maid, huh? I wonder if that’s the cleaning service that handles the hunters’ cabin where Josephine was staying.”

  “Oh, yeah! The one somebody left unlocked. Wait, does that mean Emmy will be in trouble? She seems really sweet.”

  “I’ll go talk to her.”

  The receiving line was dispersing anyway, so I hurried over to the woman named Emmy before she could leave. She gave me a slightly wary look but managed a smile. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said quietly.

  “Thank you,” I said. “In fact, I think I have something else to thank you for.”

  She wrinkled her brow and took a step toward the door.

  “Did you happen to leave a book on my front porch the other night? From Josephine?”

  She visibly relaxed. “Yes. Josie called me Saturday morning and asked me to get her things from—the place where she’d left them. There were certain things she wanted me to deliver.”

  I assumed “the place” was the hunters’ house where Josephine had been squatting. And the phone call must have been the one she made from the HAPCO warehouse. Did that mean she suspected she wouldn’t make it out alive?

  “After I left the book,” Emmy went on, “I found a letter in my van and realized it fell out of the book. I wanted to give it to you today, but I didn’t know how.” She removed a folded piece of paper from her purse and handed it to me. “I guess this is how.”

  “Oh! Well, thank you again.”

  Emmy nodded and murmured good-bye. As she left, I unfolded the letter and read it.

  Dear Keli,

  I want you to have this book as a small token of my affection. It was important to me and beloved by me—as are you.

  It’s also a reminder of the powerful difference one person can make. One woman, against the odds, started a national movement. Follow your heart and you never know what you might accomplish.

  Carpe noctem.

  Love,

  AJ

  The next morning was crisp and sunny, a perfectly pleasant early-November Tuesday to spend outdoors. I looked out the car window during the procession from the church to the cemetery and wondered if Josephine was at peace now. It felt sort of strange not to know for sure. Was she still in the wind, as Fredeline believed? If I wanted to speak to her, could I summon her again?

  The interment was sad and somber as such things always are. Afterward, the family lingered in the cemetery, strolling under the trees and admiring the more unusual monuments.

  Hand in hand, Wes and I wandered toward the historical section of the graveyard. On the way, I paused midstep as something caught my eye. Sitting still as a statue on the branch of a nearby sycamore was a great horned owl.

  “Look at that,” I whispered.

  “You don’t see that every day.”

  “No, you don’t,” I agreed. And that’s what made it so special.

  From early Native Americans to modern-day Pagans, humans have long attached significance to the unusual behavior of birds. Owls, in particular, held great symbolic meaning, especially for Wiccans. With their gifts of insight, vision, and wisdom, owls reveal that which is hidden to others. They uncover secrets and help us see the truth.

  As we watched, the owl turned its head in that uncannily deliberate way owls have. I followed its line of sight. It seemed to look straight at Mrs. Hammerlin’s house.

  “It’s a sign,” I breathed.

  “A sign of what?” asked Wes.

  “It’s a message . . . to look more closely and listen more carefully. There’s something I’ve been missing.”

  I recalled everything I’d experienced at Mrs. Hammerlin’s house, from the appearance of the black cat to the unexplained sights and sounds. I also thought about all my encounters with Aunt Josephine’s spirit, whether through dreams, visions, or physical manifestations. She was definitely trying to tell me something. Something more than the identity of her murderer.

  I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen.

  “Are you looking up the meaning of owls?” Wes asked.

  “No. Something else. I’m googling the word Shima.”

  * * *

  From the cemetery, we headed to a family-style restaurant for our post-funeral luncheon. On the way, I made two phone calls. The first was to Fern Lopez to confirm my hunch. Since I’d already guessed the truth, she decided it was okay to tell me what she knew.

  After we arrived at the restaurant and I’d placed my order, I excused myself and stepped outside to wait on the sidewalk. Ricki Day pulled up in her count
y vehicle a few minutes later. She was the second person I’d called.

  “Thank you for coming,” I said, as I shook her hand.

  “Well, the minute somebody asks me if I’m adopted, I’m instantly going to be curious. I’ve been searching for my birth family since my parents died a couple years ago. My adoptive parents, I mean. They’re the only parents I ever knew.”

  “What do you know about your birth parents?”

  “Not much. My mom and dad told me my birth mother was an angel, because she brought me into the world for them. I always thought that meant she had died shortly after I was born, but recently I learned that my parents probably didn’t even know who she was. It turns out I was dropped off at a hospital—not born at one.”

  From what Fern had told me, I was 99.9 percent sure Ricki was born at the Happy Hills commune, when Josephine was only seventeen or eighteen. Fern had admitted that Josephine gave up her baby shortly before she left town on her “secret mission.” However, Josie kept coming back to Edindale to check up on her daughter and make sure she was having a good life.

  But I let Ricki continue.

  “The only thing I know is the date I was left and the fact that I was wrapped in a green and yellow baby blanket. The letters JO were stitched on the blanket. That’s why my parents gave me the middle name Jo.”

  “And you grew up in a Victorian on Hamilton Street, right next to Oak Grove Cemetery?”

  “Yes! How did you know that? I moved out when I went to college, but my parents continued to live there right up until they passed away.” She looked at me expectantly.

  “So, I know this must seem really weird, but you know how I was asking you about Shima the other day?”

  Ricki’s eyes got really wide and she grabbed my arm. “Oh, my God. You’re not going to believe this, but I had a dream about her last night. She told me she loved me and was really proud of me. Are you saying . . . ?”