Four-Leaf Clover: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short

by Amanda M. Lee

  I brushed my hand against my thigh, making contact with the coin. It didn’t feel lucky at all.

  I geared up for one final attempt to pull myself out of the water, and this time when I reached up I felt something warm snag my wrist.

  “Sam?”

  I sputtered as he braced his feet against the stanchion and dragged me from the lake, pulling my small body on top of his. He pushed my soaked hair away from my face and gazed into my eyes, his pallor white.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I … .” I broke off into another coughing fit.

  “Why did you follow me?” Sam’s voice cracked as he hugged me, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. “I didn’t even see you until the last second. You could’ve died.”

  “I was trying to help.” I managed to get the words out, but it was difficult because my body shook uncontrollably from the freezing water and the shock.

  “Good job.” Sam struggled to his feet and then swept me up in his arms, being careful to give the edge of the dock a wide berth as we headed toward the pathway that led back to the Dandridge. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

  Lucky? The word echoed in my head even as I plastered myself against him and tried to absorb his warmth. Was I lucky? “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Sam chided. “I’m getting you back to the Dandridge right now. It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s … everything is okay.”

  “What about the tanker?”

  “There’s nothing we can do right now,” he replied. “Two of the lines are holding. We just need to hope they can withstand the storm. We can’t fix this, so we have to protect ourselves. That’s the most important thing. Maybe we’ll get lucky and everything will be all right.”

  “And if we’re not lucky?”

  Sam answered without hesitation. “I have you. I already consider myself the luckiest man in the world. We can’t control the uncontrollable. All we can do is wait.”

  Three

  Sam dropped me at the shop the next morning. He made a big show of kissing me on the cheek when he walked me to the door – offering Thistle a small wave before looking both ways and crossing the street to return to his vehicle. He seemed distracted, and even though he checked the tanker as soon as the sun came up and everything was okay, I couldn’t shake the feeling something haunted him.

  “What’s up with that?” Thistle asked, her gaze following Sam as he trudged toward his truck. “He doesn’t usually walk you to the door when he drops you off. Speaking of that, he usually doesn’t drop you off. Did something happen to your car?”

  “I think he’s a little clingy,” I admitted, dropping my purse behind the counter and grabbing a doughnut from the plate on the counter. It was fresh and smelled almost heavenly. “Did our mothers make fresh doughnuts today? I can’t believe I missed that.”

  “Yes, doughnut day is surely the best day of the month.” Thistle’s words were teasing, her eyes contemplative. “Why is he clingy? I thought everything was wonderful since you guys got engaged. The only thing you’re missing is a pet unicorn to complete the magical picture when you’re walking around these days.”

  I knew she was making fun of me, but I couldn’t muster the energy to care. “Ha, ha.”

  Thistle sobered. “Seriously. What’s wrong? Why is he clingy all of a sudden?”

  “Something might’ve happened last night,” I hedged, averting my gaze. Sometimes I think my family members can see right into my soul. That’s not one of our witchy gifts, but it could very well be one of those intangible talents only people who swim in the same gene pool can identify.

  “Something might’ve happened?” Thistle isn’t the type of person to beat around the witch hazel bush. “What might’ve happened?”

  “Well … there was an incident last night.”

  Thistle scorched me with a dark look. “That thing you do to avoid discussions you don’t want to have – where you drag things out to such lengths you believe people will become bored and distracted and stop pressing you on the issue – you know that never works on me. Why do you keep doing it?”

  “I didn’t know I was doing it.” That was a total lie. I knew I was doing it. I also realize it rarely works. That doesn’t mean it never works. It’s always worth a shot.

  “You’re such a bad liar,” Thistle muttered, shaking her head. “I’m serious, though. What happened last night to make Sam clingy?”

  I told her. There was no sense lying. When I was done, I expected sympathy. What I got was open disdain.

  “Are you an idiot?” Thistle exploded. “You would have to be to go out to that tanker in the middle of the night with a storm raging! That’s on top of the fact that you didn’t wear shoes and you tried to tie a huge tanker to the dock by yourself. Did you eat a stupid pill for lunch yesterday and tell no one about it?”

  I heaved a sigh and ran my tongue over my teeth as I decided how to answer. The go-to reaction in the Winchester household is snark. I like to buck the rules and offer reactions that aren’t expected. Why? It irritates my family. Everyone gets to the same place eventually. We simply take different roads.

  “You’re really hurting my feelings,” I sniffed. “I could’ve died last night and you’re attacking me. How is that fair?”

  Thistle extended a warning finger, annoyed. “Don’t do that. You know I hate it when you do that.”

  That’s exactly why I did it, of course. “You don’t have to worry. Sam already yelled at me for being such an idiot.”

  “Oh, well, I like him even better now. Did he use that word?”

  “I believe he called me brave and thanked me for trying to help and then said next time I should pick an activity that isn’t so terrifying,” I replied. “He claims he almost had a heart attack.”

  Thistle made a face that was so exaggerated it bordered on comical. “He is such a wuss. Why didn’t he really let you have it?”

  “Probably because I was shaking and cold. I was … afraid. He put me in a hot bath and made me stay there until my lips weren’t blue any longer.”

  Thistle had the grace to look abashed. “Oh, well, I guess he did okay.”

  “You’re all heart.” I pinched her shoulder to shake her out of her doldrums. “It’s weird, though. Right before he pulled me out of the lake there was a moment when I didn’t think I would surface again if I went under one more time. I had that coin in my pocket and I brushed my hand against it and … there he was.”

  Thistle tilted her head to the side. “You’re not actually telling me that you think the coin saved you?”

  “Madam Rosa said it would bring me luck.”

  “I think luck would’ve been not falling into the lake.”

  “Or it could’ve been Sam showing up at the exact right moment,” I pressed. “Also, this morning I wanted pancakes for breakfast. Sam said we were out of eggs and I rubbed the coin while I was trying to decide what I wanted and he suddenly found eggs. It was like magic.”

  “Or he just cleared the cobwebs from his eyes and saw what was right in front of him the entire time,” Thistle countered. “Do you know how many times I’ve looked in the refrigerator and said we were out of something only to have Bay check one minute later and find the thing we were out of?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “Like … five or something.”

  I didn’t bother smothering my giggle. “Surely that’s magical and mysterious.”

  “You know what I mean,” Thistle prodded. “I sincerely doubt Madam Rosa gifted you with a magic coin that allows you to conjure breakfast food from thin air.”

  I blew out a sigh, resigned. “I know you’re right. It’s just … weird. I distinctly remember wondering if Sam would blame himself for not noticing me approach the boat if I died, and then I felt the coin. The next thing I knew he was pulling me out of the water and carrying me to the lighthouse.”

  Instead of being snarky, which was her normal attitude, Thistle opted to be earnest. “We’re a
ll lucky he found you. Don’t do that again, by the way. If you die then Aunt Tillie is going to have to find a new kvetch and that won’t end well for Bay.”

  I rolled my eyes, annoyed. “You’d miss me if I died.”

  “Probably,” Thistle conceded, her smile impish. “Bay doesn’t let me bully her as much as you do.”

  “You’re a terrible cousin.”

  “I can live with that,” Thistle said, turning back to the store. “Let’s finish what needs to be done. I expect to be busy today.”

  And just like that, my death-defying night adventure was shelved and the reality of the day embraced. That’s how it works in a tourist town. You have to take the business wherever you can get it, even if you had a bad night or an off morning. I had no choice but to focus, so that’s what I did, pushing the coin out of my mind and fixating on the work. It had a calming effect on me, which was exactly what I needed.

  TWO HOURS later the store was clean, stocked and smelled of clove. Thistle was in charge of filling the diffuser, and I knew she was in a conciliatory mood – well, at least for her – because she picked the clove-scented oil. That’s my favorite (for obvious reasons), so the fact that she picked it meant she really was glad I survived. What? I’m not making something out of nothing.

  “I think we’re ready,” Thistle announced, dusting her hands on her skirt and glancing around. “It looks good.”

  “Thank you.”

  Thistle narrowed her eyes. “Thank you? I toiled in here for hours, too.”

  “I must’ve missed that,” I teased, smirking as I sat on the chair at the edge of the rug and sighed. “It does look good, though. Do we know when the tour group is supposed to arrive?”

  “I’m not sure.” Thistle sat on the couch and rested her feet on the coffee table. “I tried calling the inn about an hour ago, but I got my mother on the phone and she wouldn’t stop talking about pumpkin cookies and … well … you know how that goes.”

  I did indeed. Of all of us, Thistle was the most unlike her mother. Sure, she had Twila’s sense of drama and creative streak, but she was much meaner than her mother. Twila lived her life in the clouds. Thistle preferred mucking around in the dirt. I wasn’t sure which was worse. Okay, who am I kidding? Being mean is so much worse.

  “Maybe I should call,” I suggested. “I might have better luck.”

  “Hey, there you go. You can rub your lucky coin while you’re doing it.”

  I rolled my eyes and proceeded to ignore her as I retrieved my phone. I pulled the coin out as I did, flashing it to Thistle before hitting the appropriate contact button. Belinda, the woman who works as an assistant at the inn, answered on the second ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Who did you get?” Thistle sneered.

  “Hi, Belinda.” I sang out the name as if I was reciting a lyrical poem, causing Thistle to make a disgusted face. Belinda really was the best option. “It’s Clove.”

  “Hi, Clove.” Belinda sounded friendly but distracted.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” I said. “I’m just wondering if you know when that tour group is supposed to arrive.”

  “They’re already here,” Belinda replied. “They arrived about twenty minutes ago. We got twelve of them and they’re … lovely.”

  “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “I think I’ll let you meet them yourself and make up your own mind,” Belinda said. “They’re all getting settled in their rooms right now, and let’s just say … um … they seem extremely enamored of the inn, town … and especially Aunt Tillie.”

  “Oh, well, that’s terrifying.”

  “What’s terrifying?” Thistle looked bored as she stared at the ceiling and picked at the fabric on the couch.

  “The new guests have arrived, and they love Aunt Tillie,” I answered.

  “Oh, that’s definitely terrifying.”

  “Did you need anything else?” Belinda asked. She clearly had other things on her mind.

  “I guess that’s it. Do you think the guests will come to town today or will they spend the entire afternoon getting settled?”

  “Oh, they’re staying at the inn. They keep following Aunt Tillie around with cameras. They’re not going anywhere that doesn’t involve Aunt Tillie … and we all know how she feels about visiting town.”

  We do indeed. “She only makes the trip if she can irritate someone, and Mrs. Little’s store is still being repaired so she doesn’t have time to worry about Aunt Tillie. It would be a wasted trip.”

  “Precisely.”

  Thistle pursed her lips as I disconnected and cast me a dubious look. “So … are we getting business today or not?”

  “Not unless Aunt Tillie decides to visit.”

  “I’d rather go broke.”

  She wasn’t alone. I opened my mouth to add my agreement to the comment when the sound of someone screaming outside drew my attention. Thistle jumped to her feet and beat me to the door even though I was closer and standing. She yanked it open, ignoring the jangle of the bell, and bolted outside.

  I followed for lack of anything better to do, even though I wasn’t keen on seeing anything horrifying. If I could help, I would. As long as it wasn’t dangerous, that is. I would let Thistle handle the dangerous end.

  The only person on the street was a redheaded woman I didn’t recognize. She gripped the lapels of her coat, tugging them tight as she screamed a second time.

  Thistle hurried to the woman, her eyes darting in eight different directions as she tried to ascertain the problem. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was robbed.”

  Thistle arched an eyebrow, confused. “I’m sorry … you were robbed?”

  The woman nodded, her lower lip trembling, and then she sank to her knees on the chilly concrete. “He took everything!”

  TWENTY MINUTES later Chief Terry handed the woman – her name was Nancy Jarvis – over to one of his officers so she would have an escort to the inn she was staying at, and he found Thistle and me inside the store. He looked weary, but not particularly worried.

  “Did you get anything more out of her?” Thistle asked, handing him a mug of coffee before he answered. We were all ridiculously fond of Chief Terry, and even though he was closest with Bay he served as a father figure to all of us throughout the years.

  “Yeah, she says that a guy in a hoodie approached her and insinuated he had a gun in his pocket,” Chief Terry replied, nodding in thanks to Thistle as he sipped the coffee. “She says he had the hoodie tied so tight she couldn’t see his features – except that he was white with dark eyes – and that she was so afraid she let him walk off with her purse and Christmas purchases.”

  Her Christmas purchases? “Who buys Christmas gifts before Halloween?”

  “Someone visiting a witch town who has a Goth daughter, apparently,” Chief Terry replied. “I asked the same question. She’s visiting Hemlock Cove with her sister. She thought her daughter would love a lot of the things we have to offer. She thought she would stock up early.”

  “Oh, well, that makes sense,” I murmured, rolling my neck. “That’s awful, though. Who steals someone’s Christmas money?”

  “An asshat,” Thistle replied without hesitation. “Did anyone else see this guy?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask you.” Chief Terry’s gaze bounced between Thistle and me. “You guys were closest. Did you see anything?”

  I shook my head. “No. We were focused on each other. We didn’t look out the window. We didn’t notice anything until we heard the scream.”

  “Is this the same guy who tried to rob the bank yesterday?” Thistle asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine, but I seriously doubt we have two idiots wandering around in hoodies pretending to have guns,” Chief Terry answered.

  “How do you know he’s pretending?” I asked.

  “Because if you have a gun, you show it. That makes people acquiesce much more quickly. It also keeps you from getting banged in the head w
ith a glass candy bowl.”

  I didn’t want to laugh – it was a serious situation, after all – but I couldn’t help but delight in his wry expression. “You have a point. Still … should we be on the lookout for this guy?”

  “I think everyone should be on the lookout for this guy,” Chief Terry replied. “He’s clearly desperate for money. Desperate people are dangerous people. It doesn’t matter whether they have a weapon or not.”

  “Well, we’ll keep our eyes open and our senses keen,” I said. “Good luck finding him.”

  “Thanks,” Chief Terry said, draining the rest of his coffee. “I have a feeling I’m going to need it once all of these tourists hit town. I’ll see you girls later for dinner. I’m going to do my rounds and see if I can find out anything about this guy.”

  “See you soon.”

  Four

  “How are you feeling?”

  Sam barely bothered acknowledging my cousins before joining me on the library couch at The Overlook later that night. I went straight to the inn with Thistle because Sam was busy on the tanker. He appeared happy to see me – which I enjoyed because it made Thistle roll her eyes. What? I have to get my kicks where I can. Irritating Thistle is one of my favorite things. I don’t often get to do it, because she’s evil enough to be faster than me when it comes to aggravating people.

  “I’m fine,” I said, grabbing his hand as he tried to press it to my forehead. “I’m not sick. You don’t have to worry.”

  Sam wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? Maybe we should stop at the market on our way home and pick up some orange juice and soup, you know, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Oh, good grief,” Thistle snarled, annoyed. She flopped on the chair across the way and leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Do you have to be such a woman?”

  “I am a woman,” I reminded her.

  “I was talking to Sam.” Even though her words were clipped, Thistle’s eyes twinkled as she locked gazes with him. She clearly wanted someone to argue with, and Sam made an intriguing target.