A Witch In Time

by Amanda M. Lee

  I nodded, relieved he saw the resemblance, too. “I knew it looked familiar,” I said. “I’ve seen it in old photographs. Aunt Tillie has a few framed in her bedroom.”

  “I thought Aunt Tillie didn’t allow you in her bedroom?”

  “That doesn’t mean we didn’t sneak in a time or two looking for wine as teenagers.”

  Landon smirked. “Okay, so we’re at your house even though it’s not really your house,” he said, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “Did Aunt Tillie ever write any books set at the house?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “You don’t think we’re trapped in a book, do you?”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t explain what was happening, but it didn’t feel like a book. “I think this is something else,” I said. “Before you ask what that is, though, I have no idea. I’m not sure what this is.”

  “Okay, well, let’s check out back,” Landon suggested. “Maybe we’ll run into a member of your family and they can explain what this is.”

  “The only member of my family alive when this place was standing is Aunt Tillie.”

  “Well, let’s find Aunt Tillie,” Landon said. “I can’t wait to shake some answers out of her.”

  We exited the house through the back door, surreal feelings of nostalgia washing over me as I got a gander at the landscape. It was familiar, yet different all the same. The trees were a lot thicker and the patio and Aunt Tillie’s beloved gardens didn’t yet exist. It was still beautiful.

  “Look at this place,” I said, running my hand over the wooden siding. “It’s like … olden times.”

  Landon snickered. “I love that you still have the ability to be amazed about the things your family does,” he said. “It is neat to see. If I thought there wasn’t a chance we would be trapped here forever, I would take the time to look around.”

  “You’re right,” I said, flashing him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. I just … .” I broke off, tilting my head to the side when the sound of laughter filled my ears. I watched as two girls – they couldn’t have been older than eight or nine – crested the hill on the south side of the property. They were clad in modest dresses and they were laughing.

  One of the girls had long dark hair that was tied in pigtails .The other had flowing reddish hair – almost more of a strawberry blond – and it streamed behind her as she ran and giggled.

  “Who are they?” Landon asked.

  I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

  The girls pulled up short when they saw us, the redhead giving us a wide berth as the brunette boldly took a step in our direction.

  “Who are you?”

  “Who are you?” Landon challenged.

  “Tillie, we’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” the red-headed girl said. It was supposed to be a whisper but her voice carried.

  “Tillie?” I said, narrowing my eyes. It couldn’t be. Could it?

  “How do you know my name?” the brunette asked. “Are you evil? Is that how you know it? We kick evil in its naughty place around this house.”

  “Yup. That’s her,” Landon said, shaking his head. “Oh, my … .”

  “Goddess,” I finished for him, dumbfounded. “Are you really Tillie Winchester?” It seemed a stupid question given where we stood, but I couldn’t wrap my head around what I saw. There were only a handful of photos of Aunt Tillie as a young girl, and she protected them with everything she had. She kept them away from us when we were young and had “jam hands” as she called them. Then, as teenagers, we lost interest. Still, this was … amazing.

  “I am Tillie Winchester,” the girl said, puffing out her chest. “Have you heard of me? Everyone around here has heard of me.”

  “That’s because you’re naughty,” the other girl said.

  I took a moment to study her. “If you’re Tillie, that would make you Ginger,” I said, my heart rolling at the realization that I was seeing my own grandmother – a woman who died long before my birth – and she looked a lot like my mother. A lump formed in my throat. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “How do you know us?” Even though she was little, Aunt Tillie was still a mountain of trouble. I could tell just by looking at her. “You’re not one of those perverts I keep hearing about, are you?”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “Not last time I checked.”

  “He looks like a pervert,” little Tillie said, her gaze landing on Landon. “Are you a pervert?”

  “I guess it depends on who you ask,” Landon replied.

  I elbowed him in the stomach and shook my head. “That’s not going to be funny in this time,” I hissed. “They probably shoot perverts and bury the bodies where no one can find them around these parts.”

  Landon sobered. “I’m not a pervert,” he clarified. “That was a joke.”

  “Are you a comedian?” Ginger asked, addressing us for the first time. “My mom says Tillie is a comedian.”

  “That’s an interesting word for her,” Landon said, gracing both girls with a smile. “Actually, I’m a … police officer. We’re kind of lost and we need help.”

  “Did you take a walk in the woods and get turned around?” Ginger asked, her eyes widening. “Have you been walking for days without food and water? Is that why you have such strange clothes? Did you steal fabric from someone else and sew your own clothes when your good clothes were ruined?”

  “Um … .” Landon had no idea how to answer.

  “That’s not what happened,” Tillie scoffed. “You need to stop listening to that idiot at the corner store who tells all those stories. They’re not true.”

  “You don’t know that,” Ginger sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “They could be true.”

  “Except they’re not,” Tillie said. “I still think they’re probably perverts.”

  “You have a one-track mind,” Landon muttered.

  “Hey, guys! Why didn’t you wait for me?” Another girl appeared over the edge of the hill. This one was smaller than Ginger and Tillie, and her blond curls bounced as she jogged toward us. “I’m telling.”

  “And you must be Willa,” I said, locking gazes with her as she approached. Even though Ginger had been wary, she was still open upon meeting us. I’d never seen a more closed off child than Willa Winchester. Of course, because she grew up to be the world’s most annoying adult, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

  “Who are you?” Willa asked. “Are they strangers? We’re not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  “We’re not strangers,” I clarified. “We’re … lost.”

  “I think they’re perverts,” Tillie said. “That guy has long hair. What guy with long hair isn’t a pervert?”

  “You need to stop with the pervert stuff,” Landon chided. “I swear I’m not a pervert.”

  “That’s exactly what a pervert would say,” Tillie argued. “Perverts don’t walk up to you and say ‘I’m a pervert.’ That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Well, I can honestly say she’s exactly the same,” Landon said. “Talk to her and figure out how to get us out of here.”

  I balked. “Why do I have to talk to her?”

  “She’s your great-aunt.”

  “Not now she’s not,” I argued.

  “What are you even talking about?” Tillie asked, narrowing her eyes. “Am I supposed to know you?”

  “Well … .” How could I possibly explain a situation I didn’t understand?

  “They’re strangers and they’re bad,” Willa announced. “We’re not supposed to talk to them. I’m telling.”

  “That seems to be your mantra,” Landon said.

  “Don’t talk to me!” Willa screeched. “You’re a stranger.”

  “And she’s exactly the same, too,” Landon muttered, sticking his finger in his ear to block Willa’s shrillness. “I guess you Winchester women come out fully formed, huh?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell them,” I admitted. “A
nything we say will sound strange.”

  “Oh, do you think?”

  “No one needs your sarcasm,” I said. “That’s not going to help.”

  “Well, Bay, I’m fresh out of blind faith right now,” Landon said. “Sarcasm is all I have. You can’t take pot roast and sarcasm from me in the same night and expect me not to be bitter. It’s impossible.”

  I rolled my eyes, smirking when I saw Tillie doing the same thing.

  “He’s a pill,” Tillie said, shaking her head. “You’re awfully whiny for a pervert.”

  “I’ve just about had it with the pervert stuff,” Landon said. “I’d rather hear Willa shriek some more instead of you calling me that. Hey … where did Willa go?”

  I glanced to the spot where the blond tot of terror stood moments before and shook my head. “I don’t know. I … .”

  “Tillie!”

  Landon and I jolted at the voice, turning in unison and staring back at the house. No human could make that sound, could they? It sounded as if three women were screaming at once. That’s how it sounded when Mom, Marnie and Twila decided to screech at the same time. This couldn’t be good.

  “That’s Mama,” Ginger whispered, her eyes clouding. “She’s going to be really angry we talked to strangers. I have to go now.”

  “You baby,” Tillie called as she watched Ginger scamper around the side of the house. “Mama isn’t going to do anything to us. She’s going to do something to the perverts.”

  “Stop calling me that,” Landon said, wagging a finger in Tillie’s face. “I am not a pervert.”

  “Tillie!” The voice was getting closer.

  “Maybe we should run?” I suggested, fear coursing through me. I’d heard stories about my great-grandmother Caroline. None of them were good.

  “We can’t run,” Landon countered. “We finally found an adult. She needs to help us figure out what’s going on.”

  “But … .”

  “No,” Landon said, cutting me off. “Someone in this crazy house has to know how to get us out of here. If your great-grandmother is a witch, she might know what’s going on. She’ll be able to get us out of here.”

  Tillie snickered, the sound even more dastardly coming out of a small child instead of a cranky senior citizen. “Do you really think my mother is going to help perverts? If so, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that we’re not perverts?” Landon asked.

  “Just until I believe you,” Tillie shot back, wrinkling her upturned nose. “Seriously, what’s up with your hair? Are you one of those guys who think he’s a girl?”

  “I can’t even talk to you,” Landon muttered, shaking his head and planting his hands on his hips.

  “Tillie Winchester! Don’t make me come out there and get you!” Fear coursed through me when I realized my great-grandmother was on the other side of the door and probably heading in our direction.

  “That’s my cue to leave,” Tillie said, smirking. “Good luck. My mama isn’t known for having a good sense of humor, and she hates perverts even more than I do. May the Goddess have mercy on your souls.”

  Well, this definitely couldn’t be good.

  “WHO ARE you?”

  Caroline Winchester was a stout woman, thick in the hips and tall. Like … really tall. Most of the women in my family are short. I had no idea they ever bred Winchester women as tall as Caroline.

  “We’re … .” I broke off, licking my lips.

  “We’re lost,” Landon interjected smoothly. “We were on a hike in the woods and lost our way. We didn’t mean any disrespect, and no matter what Tillie says, I am not a pervert.”

  My mouth dropped open. Crap!

  “So you introduce yourself to strangers by saying you’re not a pervert?” Caroline challenged. “Only a pervert would say something like that.”

  “What would a non-pervert say?” Landon shot back. “Would he admit to being a pervert? If so, how does that work?”

  Caroline wiped her hands on her apron and narrowed her eyes. “Are you getting fresh with me, boy?”

  Caroline was almost the same height as Landon, which gave him pause. “Definitely not.”

  “We’re not perverts,” I interjected, forcing a friendly smile. “In fact, we’re … long-lost relatives. Well, at least I am. He’s a friend of mine. Kind of. He’s not a pervert.”

  “I’m ‘kind of’ a friend of yours?” Landon challenged.

  “I don’t think calling you my ‘love bunny’ is going to work in this particular situation,” I hissed.

  “Bay, calling me your ‘love bunny’ won’t ever work,” Landon said. “Just for the record, I hate it when you do that.”

  “Bay, huh?” I’d almost forgotten Caroline was standing there. She was too imposing of a figure to disregard entirely, though.

  “I’m your kin,” I said, hoping that was the right word for the time. “It’s really hard to explain.”

  “I know who you are,” Caroline said. “I knew pretty much the moment I set eyes on you. What are you doing here?”

  She knows who I am? I had my doubts. “If you know who I am, do you know why we’re here?”

  “I just asked you that question.”

  “We don’t know why we’re here,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. “My aunt was hurt during a storm. We were at her bedside and fell asleep. We woke up here. Do you know how that’s possible?”

  “I do,” Caroline acknowledged, her gaze busy as it moved between us. “How was your aunt hurt?”

  “A tree branch blew through a window during a storm and hit her in the head,” I answered. I saw no reason to lie. It wouldn’t benefit anyone. “We had to take her to the hospital and they were running tests.” It sounded lame.

  “Under normal circumstances, we would think she’s responsible for putting us here,” Landon offered. “These are not normal circumstances, though. We have no idea how we ended up here.”

  “Then you’re not looking hard enough,” Caroline said, her eyes locking with mine. They were the same clear blue I boasted.

  “I don’t know what that means,” I said. “We need help getting out of here. We don’t belong here.”

  “You definitely don’t belong here,” Caroline agreed. “I think there’s a reason you’re here, though. You have to figure out what it is. I can’t help you.”

  “Well, that sounds helpful,” Landon muttered.

  “Don’t make me take a switch to you,” Caroline threatened. “We don’t take kindly to perverts and fresh mouths in this house.”

  “Oh, good grief,” Landon intoned. “This is just … there are no words.”

  “If you know who I am and why I’m here, why don’t I know?” I pressed. “What am I missing?”

  “You’ll figure it out on your own soon enough, Bay,” Caroline said. “There’s a lot here for you to learn if you open your eyes and ears. If you don’t, that’s on you. I can’t help you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not really here,” Caroline answered.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Landon asked. “I … wait … what’s happening?”

  The air around us began to swirl, a myriad of colors melding into one another and rocketing as if we were caught in the funnel of a tornado. I felt sick to my stomach as the world tilted, and the last thing I heard was Caroline’s voice as she called out one last warning.

  “Don’t let her stay. It’s not her time.”

  I don’t hate people just to hate them. I always have a reason. It’s usually a good one, too. The problem is, I often forget the reason before I get around to the punishing, so it seems as if I’m being mean and vindictive. That’s rarely the case, though. So, if you really think about it, I’m the victim because people always think I’m being mean when I’m really just forgetful.

  – Aunt Tillie on why she keeps a list of mortal enemies

  Four

  We landed hard. I should mention
we landed on pavement hard. How did we shift locales? Your guess is as good as mine. I have no idea what’s happening.

  “Oomph,” Landon muttered, rubbing his sore rear end. “That hurt.”

  “Uh-huh.” I mimicked his actions and rolled to my side so I could ease the burden on my overtaxed rump. “Where are we now?”

  “I’m just a hitchhiker in this world, sweetie,” Landon replied, groaning as he climbed to his feet. “You know more than I do.”

  “I don’t know anything,” I muttered, accepting his hand and letting him pull me to my feet. “Great-Grandma Caroline said I should know what’s going on. Why don’t I know?”

  “I have no idea,” Landon said, brushing off my back and giving my butt a friendly pat as he kissed my forehead. “You’re okay, right? You didn’t break anything when we landed, did you?”

  “Are you asking if I broke my bottom?”

  “I’m fond of it,” Landon said, grinning. “Sue me.”

  “You seem to be in an awfully good mood considering what’s going on,” I pointed out. “When did that happen?”

  Landon shrugged. “I can now say I know what Aunt Tillie was like as a child,” he said. “I thought something must’ve happened to make her so ornery over the course of her life. I think that assumption was wrong. She was always evil.”

  “She wasn’t evil,” I corrected. “She was … bold. Thistle was that way when we were kids. I was more like Ginger. I let Thistle talk the talk and threaten everyone, while I hung back to make sure she didn’t get in over her head.”

  “Does that mean Clove was like Willa?”

  I pursed my lips. That was a hard question to answer. “I guess in some ways she was,” I admitted. “She was never mean, though. Aunt Tillie thought she was a tattletale and whiny, but she always protected her, too. I don’t think that’s because she reminded her of Willa.”