“I know you’ve been keeping something from me, Maggie. Whatever it is, I’m here for you, okay? You just got out of one relationship and the last thing you probably want is to jump into another. But I’ve waited all these years,” he said, glancing towards the tree. “I don’t mind waiting a little longer.”
“It might be a while,” I said, laughing even as I wanted to cry.
“I hope it’s not too long,” he said, his handsome face softening. “I’d like to be able to kiss you while I still have all of my teeth.”
“I’d like that too. I need to figure some things out first, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He brushed a lock of my hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear, studying me. “You’re so beautiful. Your hair. Your eyes. Your nose. Your freckles.”
“I’m not beautiful.”
“Yes, you are. And you don’t even know it. It’s one of your endearing qualities. With your looks and my culinary skills we’d make some pretty awesome children.”
I laughed at the irony as a large raindrop fought its way through the trees, plunking on my head.
“Geez. And I wasn’t even trying. Now let’s get you to your ma’s before you’re soaked.” He took my hand and led me back to his pickup.
Once we were buckled in, he said, “And whenever you’re ready to talk, remember I’m here.”
“Thank you. I’ll remember.”
He squeezed my hand and drove us out of the woods.
As we pulled into the large dirt driveway of Sister House, I gave Shane a kiss on the cheek. In an alternate universe––one where I didn’t carry another man’s baby––I would have invited him inside and introduced him as my boyfriend. We’d spend the holidays together, making plans for Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Maybe making plans for the rest of our lives.
But this wasn’t that universe.
Instead of inviting him in I said, “Hope you have a great day, Shane Doler.”
He tipped his hat to me, a glimmer of sadness in his smoky gray eyes. “Ah, it’s the plight of the cowboy to wander the world alone.”
“Don’t be a dork,” I said again, climbing out of the truck and smiling as though nothing serious had transpired between us. “And for the millionth time, you’re not a cowboy!”
“Hey, it’s all I’ve got.” He forced a smile. “See you around, Miss Maggie Mae. And for the love of all that’s good and holy in this world, get rid of that thing.” He pointed to the alpaca sweater that peeked from the top of my tote bag.
Shane cranked up the radio, blasting Alanis Morisette’s Ironic as he sped away.
I watched him go, then turned my attention towards my childhood home.
Sister House. Though only half the size of Harvest Home, it appeared massive as I stood before it: a sprawling, white Victorian, with a century’s worth of secrets. My sisters and I had vanquished one demon here, but there were others, tucked into every nook and cranny of the manor. These were the ghosts of our pasts, and of things to come. Sister House had been waiting for us, and now that the daughters of Dark Root were all home, it could make its plans.
The trees that surrounded Sister House rustled as wind caught their branches, conjuring up sounds like whisperings. I stood on tiptoe trying to make out the words.
“Maggie. Maggie. We see you.”
I scanned the forest, peering into the grayness through the rain. My skin crawled as I realized that someone watched me. Or something.
I charged towards the house, sloshing through mud that grabbed onto me like quick sand.
“Maggie. Maggie.”
At last, I stood trembling before the door.
A covenant would be made within these walls today that would bind me to Dark Root forever. I turned the knob and walked inside.
Three
WELCOME ALL AGAIN
November, 2013
Sister House
Dark Root, Oregon
“Knock, knock,” I said, pulling a smile onto my face as I stepped inside, nearly tripping over the orange tabby lounging in the entryway who merely yawned at my arrival.
“Aunt Maggie!” My five-year-old niece leapt over the cat and barreled into me, wrapping her arms around my legs. “You made it!”
“I couldn’t stay away from you, Mae,” I said, calling her by her birth name. She wrinkled her nose and I corrected myself. “I mean June Bug.”
I bent down to give her a hug, as always astounded by how much she looked like her mother with her cream-colored hair and robin’s egg blue eyes. “Hey, lookie there. You lost another tooth!”
She opened her mouth, revealing a large gap in the top front row.
“At this rate the tooth fairy will be broke by springtime,” I said.
June Bug grinned, brushing a wisp of fine hair from her face. “Grandma says we should put her dentures under the pillow and see how much money she gets for them. Gross!”
A week ago, we’d all wondered whether her grandma would ever leave the hospital and here she was cracking jokes about her fake teeth. I couldn’t help but laugh.
June Bug scooped up the cat, which my mother had also named Maggie. “Do you want the kitty cat? Aunt Ruth Anne’s allergic.”
I shook my head. The last thing I needed was something else relying on me. “No, honey. I’m sorry. Auntie can’t take a cat right now.”
“I guess we have to take him to a shelter then.” Her bottom lip pushed.
She released the cat. He bounded up the staircase, as if understanding its impending fate. June Bug took my hand as Merry strolled into the living room carrying a steaming mug. Dressed in red velvet and brown corduroy, with her blond hair tied back in a bow, she looked like she belonged on the holiday cover of an East Coast magazine.
“How’s it going, sis?” she asked, joining us and planting a kiss on my cheek.
“Aunt Maggie is afraid she’ll kill the cat, mommy.” June Bug answered, looking between myself and Merry. “Isn’t that right, Aunt Maggie?”
I quickly withdrew my hand from June Bug’s. I had forgotten that she could read people when she touched them, able to feel and even take on their emotions. It was a gift she shared with her mother. I should have cleansed my energy before coming into the house.
“I think she’s scared she’s going to hurt her baby, too,” June Bug continued. “But we won’t let anything happen to them. Right?”
I raised an alarmed eyebrow to Merry. Though June Bug was an empath, she seemed to know more than she should, even with that gift.
Merry knelt down so that she was eye level with her daughter. “Well, that’s understandable honey. Having a baby is a scary thing. But we are all going to be here to help Aunt Maggie, right? And let her know that everything is okay.”
June Bug nodded and Merry resumed her standing position. “Now, honey, go tell everyone that Aunt Maggie’s here, okay?”
June Bug darted off, a blur of blond hair and red satin, calling out “Aunt Maggie’s Here! Aunt Maggie’s here!”
“Are you sure she’s only five?” I asked. “I don’t remember being that wise when I was her age.”
“That’s because you weren’t,” Merry teased, nudging me in the ribs.
“She’s like a little old woman. Maybe we shouldn’t let her hang out with her grandmother so much.”
“The two have been almost inseparable since Mama woke up. But I think it’s good for both of them.” Merry’s eyes ventured to the staircase, mentally moving towards Mother’s room on the second floor.
“Anyways,” Merry continued. “Sorry about June Bug reading you like that. She’s supposed to ask permission first.” Merry turned her head in both directions, checking to see that we were still alone. Turning to me, she whispered, “I think her talents are growing. Evolving. She knows things. Everything.”
“Like reading minds?” I whispered back, surprised. There were few witches who could read minds. It was one of the highest gifts given.
“No. I don’t think so. It’s more
like reading motives and intentions, I guess. She told me the other day that she was going to ask her daddy to send more money so that I would stop wanting to kill him. I’d never spoken those words but that’s what I was feeling.”
Merry’s ex-husband Frank had run off with a barely-legal barista the year before and sent child support payments only when he felt like it.
“You’re a saint for not killing him already,” I said, sliding my arm around her waist.
It worried me how thin she’d gotten. Merry was naturally curvy, claiming she put on five pounds every time she smelled a cinnamon roll. Now I could feel her ribs. She was under more stress than she admitted. I cleared my mind before she could read my panic.
“I bet Mother’s got a few Voodoo dolls lying around here. We could make a Frank doll,” Merry teased.
“She’s probably used them up on her own men,” I said.
“That would explain why they’ve all mysteriously disappeared.” Merry blew on her cup then took a sip from her mug. “Want some coffee? I can put a shot of brandy in it.” As soon as she spoke the word brandy, her face went white. “Oh, Maggie. I’m so sorry. My mind’s all over the place lately and I keep forgetting.”
Our eyes fell to her mug as we both remembered a night last month when we’d stayed up late at Dip Stix Café, guzzling countless bottles of Shane’s best wine.
Of course, I didn’t know I was pregnant then, but what if…?
“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Merry said. “It was only one night. God only knows what Mother put in her body when she was pregnant with us.”
“Not a good comparison,” I snickered. “But you’re right. It was only one night.”
Yer father had the deathtouch.
I resisted the urge to touch my belly as Aunt Dora’s words came back to me. Merry had enough on her plate with Frank, June Bug, and Mother. I wasn’t going to let her take on one more worry.
“Besides,” Merry continued. “I’m sure you ate very healthy at Hallelujah-Ville, right? That’s gotta count for something.”
“You mean Woodhaven?” I laughed. “Well…”
Michael had done his best to get me to eat healthy, insisting on organic and free-range everything, but my private diet consisted of Oreos and Diet Coke, and not much else.
This poor child didn’t stand a chance.
June Bug returned to us, skipping, her hair divided into two fishtail braids that fell to the small of her back. Eve’s handiwork.
“Aunt Maggie, come see what we’re doing.” She took my hand and dragged me towards the dining area as Merry threw me an apologetic shrug.
In the corner, behind the round oak table where I used to eat breakfast, stood an aluminum tree at least seven feet tall. It was a sad, shriveled-up old thing: a thin, metallic pole that spewed out silver branches with so much space between them you could see to the wall behind it. On each branch hung four, red, glass balls as large as melons. Chunky strands of tinsel separated each ball, giving the illusion that each ornament had its own stall.
Paul was crouched behind the tree, wrestling with a string of lights.
June Bug ran to the tree and added more tinsel.
“Hey there, rock star.” Paul grinned at me through the branches as his fingers searched for a light socket. His dark blond pompadour had flattened, laying back against his head. His cobalt eyes twinkled for a moment, before returning to the task.
“Christmas, already?” I asked. “We’re not even halfway through November.”
“Isn’t it beautiful?” he answered, undaunted by my lack of enthusiasm.
“If this were 1953, then yes.”
“If only we could be so lucky. Things were much simpler in the past. Someone really needs to invent a time machine.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” I said, adjusting an ornament that looked ready suicide.
“You’re just in time for the lighting ceremony. And cookies.” Eve swept in carrying a silver tray filled with star shaped cookies. They’d been decorated with white frosting and red and green sprinkles. “Look at me,” she said, lowering the tray for my inspection. “I’ve become a regular Betty Crocker.”
“If the Hooters gals could see you now,” I said as I reached for a cookie.
She swatted my hand and handed my cookie to June Bug instead. “For that comment, you get nothing.”
“I’m telling Mother.”
“Go ahead. Then I’ll tell her how you used to fall asleep during Uncle Joe’s lessons on sacred geometry.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” She set the tray on the table, and then turned her attention to Paul. “Aren’t you done yet? You’ve been working on those lights for almost an hour.”
“In case you haven't figured it out, these things are archaic. They don’t even make lights like this anymore.” Paul lifted the strand to show us bulbs as big as our fists.
“We could get new ones,” Eve said, putting her hand on her hip. “A new tree, too, maybe. This thing is so old.”
“Blasphemy,” Paul said, tightening a bulb. “They don’t make things like this anymore.”
“Because they suck.” Eve sighed. “When you buy my ring I want a new one. Not an old hand me down? Got it?”
“If I buy you a ring, you’ll get what you get. Understood?”
Eve was used to walking over men, so I think she relished her inability to conquer Paul.
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms even as her eyes twinkled. “But no cookies for you, either.”
Merry joined us at the tree. “Neither of you should be eating that stuff. It’s bad for you.”
She took the half-eaten cookie from June Bug and put it back on the tray. June Bug moaned but acquiesced. Merry was the kindest of all of us, but she could also be the most stubborn, especially in matters of nutrition. Merry sniffed the air and turned to the aluminum tree.
“With all the real pine around here why are we using this old thing?”
“Paul found this one in Aunt Dora’s attic,” Eve answered. “Said it reminded him of the trees they put up in those old Christmas movies. We can set up a real tree at Harvest Home or mom’s shop.” Eve’s eyes flashed mischievously. “And I’m sure Shane could be persuaded to put one up at Dip Stix too. If Maggie works her, cough, magic.”
“Watch it, scrawny. I outweigh you by a good ten pounds now,” I said.
“Ten?” Eve blinked. “Try fifteen.”
“Unless you want me to put a pin in those balloon bags of yours, you’d better be nice.”
Eve folded her arms across her chest. “Stay away from them. If the magick shop doesn’t work out, I’ll need these babies to make us some money.”
“Great idea. We can tie a rope to you and rent you out for parades.”
“Funny.”
“I thought so.”
Paul cleared his throat and rustled the tree to get our attention. “As much as I like seeing two chicks fight, I could really use some help here. I can’t see anything back here.” He held up the end of a light strand that didn’t quite reach the outlet.
“Fine.” Eve pulled the tree away from the wall and directed Paul to move the plug there and then there. I leaned against the breakfast table, bemusedly watching the scene while Merry took June Bug into the powder room to brush the sugar bugs off of her teeth.
“If Eve cooks half as good as she gives orders, those cookies will be delicious.”
My eldest sister Ruth Anne lumbered down the stairs in a pair of cut-off sweatpants and a stretched-out, Scooby Doo T-shirt. Her short brown hair shot up in corkscrews around her face and her glasses looked ready to topple off her button nose. I was seized by guilt as I realized I’d hardly seen her since she’d returned to Dark Root a week earlier. She sauntered to the table and picked up June Bug’s half-eaten cookie, shrugged, then bit into it.
“There’s no such thing as a bad cookie,” she said, draping her free arm across my shoulders. “So?” she asked, taking another bite,
“What’s shakin’ bacon?”
Her laid back greeting caught me off guard. “I’m sorry for not coming by,” I mumbled, feeling my face redden as I searched for an excuse. “I’ve been a bit, uh, occupied.”
“No need to be.” Ruth Anne wiped the crumbs from her mouth with her hands. “If I can disappear for fifteen years, you’re entitled to a week.”
Her eyes scanned the massive, built-in bookshelves that lined the north side of the family room. While Mother’s library had never rivaled Uncle Joe’s, it was still an impressive collection, especially to a bookworm like Ruth Anne.
“Besides, it’s given me a chance to catch up on my reading. Did you know there are books here over a hundred years old? Many of them first editions.” Her eyes gleamed beneath her square-framed glasses as she took in the wall of books. “They’re a bit musty, but hell, so are most of the men I dated.”
She stomped one foot on the hardwood floor, snorting at her own joke.
“I see age hasn’t changed your sense of humor,” I said, studying her.
In some ways she was exactly as I remembered. The same glasses, the same tom-boy attire, and the same short hair––a haircut she’d given herself when she denounced witchcraft.
In other ways she was completely alien to me. Her easiness. Her confidence. She’d been outspoken as a child, fueled by a sense of righteous indignation as she asserted her independence. Now, she possessed a go-with-the-flow attitude that was difficult to assimilate into my old notion of Ruth Anne.
I wanted to get to know her better, to find out who she had become in the years we’d been apart.
“Life is funny, Maggie. That’s the most important thing I’ve learned. If we can’t laugh at it, well…we’re all screwed.” Ruth Anne flung out her hands, dropping the cookie.
At once, the Maggie cat was on it, gobbling it up before anyone else lay claim to it.
“I suppose,” I said, sensing there was a lot to her story. “It’s good to have you back. Are you home for good?”
“Maybe. I can probably get a little work done while I’m here. Dark Root might be good for the muse.”
“Your work?” I had no idea what she did for a living. “Let me guess. You’re a librarian? No, a teacher! Wait, a philosopher!”
The Magick of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root) Page 4
