by Wendy Wang
"A desperate, pathetic, crazy woman – that's who," she muttered. "A woman who doesn't even deserve to live."
"What did you say, honey," Porter said, but his voice seemed distant as if he'd fallen down a hole in the ground. Her gaze flitted to find him, meeting his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered and smashed her head into the mirror. To stop the itch. To stop the despair. To stop it all.
Charlie awoke with a start holding her forehead in her hands. A dull, residual ache spread through her skull. She rubbed at the spot where Edwina had scratched. There was no blood or broken skin. She rubbed her hands over her face and took a deep breath. What a weird dream. She clicked on the light and reached for a pad of paper that she kept in the nightstand.
"Edwina," she said aloud as she wrote the word. "And Porter." When she was done writing their names, she put a big question mark next to them. Who were they? She closed her eyes and tried to remember small details about the dream. Augusta. She wrote the name down and the date that Augusta had given her. September 7, 1955. What had Porter meant when he said he would tell no one about that night? Charlie placed the pen and pad back in the drawer. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and arose. When she got to the door, she opened it. And found herself face to face with Barbara Jean.
"Hello.” Charlie tried to keep her voice steady. Her heart drummed against her throat, and she hoped that this child's spirit would not sense her concern. “It’s Barbara Jean, right?”
"I can't get back into see Ruby," she said. “I kept banging on the door, but nobody seemed to hear me. The next thing I knew I was in the yard. I don't like being in the yard by myself."
"I'm sorry about that," Charlie said. "Do you know why you can't get in to see Ruby?"
"No." Barbara Jean stuck out her bottom lip. "I don't like it, though. Ruby's my first friend in a long time."
"You know why that is?"
The child's faded brown eyes looked familiar. She stared at Charlie and shook her head no.
Charlie pressed her lips together to keep from frowning. "Well," she began. "I think something must've happened to you a long time ago. Do you remember what that might be?"
Barbara Jean shook her head again, faster this time, more desperate, more fearful. She knew. She knew she was dead. She may have even known why. It had been Charlie's experience, though, that the spirits of children often couldn't accept it. Especially if violence had occurred.
"That's okay," Charlie said, giving her a reassuring smile. "There's a place you know. Where people go when they are like you. It's beautiful there. Peaceful. And lots of family members are there to meet you. You know what I mean, honey?"
"You mean like Grandpa Frank," she said.
"Yes like Grandpa Frank. Wouldn't you like to see him again?"
"Grandpa Frank is dead. I don't want to see a dead person," she said, her voice flat and creepy.
"Listen, honey." Charlie leaned down and used her gentlest voice. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, but you are too."
Something clamped around Charlie's throat cutting off her words and her breath. She clawed at the invisible hand trying to get it to loosen its grip on her neck. The world turned gray and dim at the edges.
Barbara Jean watched in horror. Her little form flickered in and out. She put her hands on her cheeks and screamed. The sound made Charlie's bones vibrate.
"Mom!" Evan yelled from his doorway. He reached over and flicked on the lights in the small living room. Barbara Jean disappeared and whatever held Charlie's throat let go. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor coughing and massaging her neck. Evan knelt beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. His gaze darted around the room as if he was trying to figure out who was here and where they had gone.
"Are you okay, mama?" He said.
Charlie nodded and sat back on her heels. She took deep breaths. It had been a long time since Evan had called her mama. He was growing up so fast. "I'm fine, baby."
"You sure? What was that?" Evan said.
"I'm sure, and honestly, I don't know." She looked around the cozy living room. Everything was in its place. She managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry I scared you."
"It's okay. I'm just glad you're all right," he said. He rose from the floor and held out his hand. Charlie took it and let him help her to her feet.
"You should go back to bed," she said.
"You sure?" Evan said.
"I'm sure, baby. Go on now." Charlie said.
The concern lining his young face didn't fade, but he didn't argue with her. "Okay. Good night."
"Good night sweetie," she said. She watched him go into his room and shut the door. A stripe of yellow light glowed beneath his door for another minute then went out.
Charlie flipped off the light switch in the living room and headed back into her room. She closed the door behind her and went straight to her dresser. A medium-sized jewelry box made of rosewood with an inlay of lighter wood stained a golden color sat on top. She opened it up and found a small black velvet pouch. She loosened the ribbons and upended the contents into her palm. A small silver necklace with a pentacle and several stone beads twinkled in the light. She'd taken it off a few weeks ago to get a massage and had forgotten to put it back on. That was the last time she would make that mistake. Her hands made quick work of fastening the protective necklace around her neck. When she was finished, she held the pentacle between her thumb and forefinger. A sense of calm spread through her. A minute later she climbed back into bed and waited for the stress to leave her body, but it took a long time for her to fall back to sleep and when she finally did, her dreams were full of cracked mirrors and flickering children screaming in the darkness.
Chaoter
The tension in the car grew heavier and thicker between Charlie and Evan the closer they got to Scott's house. Evan sat in the front seat next to her. His right leg bounced up and down, and he kept fidgeting with the seatbelt around his waist.
"You're not gonna tell him right?" Evan said as they took the exit from I-526 to Daniel Island.
"No sweetie, I promise I'm not gonna tell him," Charlie said. "But I am going to tell him that you want to be with me on Samhain."
"But you're gonna say Halloween right? Not Samhain. Because I think that's just gonna freak him out,” Evan said. “And I'm the one who has to live with him for the next week."
Charlie gave her son a quick look of concern. "Do you think that he would hurt you?"
"No," Evan said. "Of course not. But he would judge me. Honestly, I think I'd rather be hit. And then there's Heather."
"What about Heather?" Charlie asked. Her mama bear instincts reared their head. She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything disparaging about her ex-husband’s girlfriend.
"She's kind of like grandma," Evan said.
"Self-righteous?" Charlie asked. It was no secret, even with Evan, that Charlie's relationship with her ex-mother-in-law was at best strained when she was married to Scott. Marilyn Carver [look up her name] held her ex-daughter-in-law in such low esteem now. Charlie ranked somewhere between dirt and mud.
"Mom," Evan said with a disapproving tone. It sounded too much like Scott. It rankled her. "No. Religious. She's Episcopalian like Grandma. They go to the same church and everything."
"And she's judgmental?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Sometimes."
Opinionated. It was a word that popped into her head. It floated around them. Heather was opinionated. She wasn't sure if Evan was afraid to say it out loud or not.
"What you really meant was she's opinionated, right?" Charlie said.
"I hate when you do that," Evan grumbled.
"Everybody hates when I do that," Charlie said. "But I'm not gonna stop. Especially when it comes to people I love. I don't want there to be anything that you feel you can't say to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he said. "And I do think Heather's opinionated. I'm not supposed to feel that way because I'm a kid and she's a grown-up."
"It's a terrible line to have to live beneath, isn't it? And it's very easy for grown-ups like your dad and Heather and your grandma to discount you because of your age and experience. I'm sure I've done it too. And I'm sorry. You aren't like other almost 13-year-olds. You see the world with different eyes. I'm gonna try to do a better job of remembering that, okay?" Charlie said.
"Thanks, mom," Evan said. "I think I should still hide the books that you gave me. What do you think?"
"I think you should do whatever you feel makes you safe," Charlie said. "I'm sorry you feel you can't read them openly. Do you want me to talk to your dad about it?"
"No," Evan said. "Then he would know that I'm more interested in—" Evan stopped and pressed his head back against the headrest. He stared out the window with his hand wrapped tightly around the seatbelt across his chest. Charlie pulled the car over and put it into park.
"More interested in what sweetie?"
Evan rolled his eyes. "Nothing,"
"More interested in being pagan? Being a witch? You know just because you set out on a path doesn't mean that you won't diverge from it later in your life. You’ll study and learn and feel so many things in your lifetime. And no one's journey is exactly the same. It's okay to be different. I know it's hard when you're a kid. Especially a kid in middle school." Charlie said.
"It's not that," Evan said.
"Then what is it, sweetie?" Charlie said.
"Can we talk about it later maybe?" Evan said. "You know how Dad is when you bring me home late."
"Of course," Charlie said. She shifted the car into drive and pulled back onto the street. "Doesn't mean we won't talk about it though. We will. Okay?"
"Okay," Evan said.
Charlie pulled into Scott's driveway next to a gold Lexus, put the car in park and cut the engine.
"Heather?" Charlie asked. She knew the Lexus didn’t belong to her mother-in-law. Marilyn Carver had a thing for Mercedes-Benz.
"Yep," Evan said. He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Charlie popped the trunk so he could retrieve his suitcase and his book bag.
"Good," Charlie said aloud. She pulled down the visor, quickly finger-combed her long blonde hair and pinched her cheeks before getting out of her car and following Evan up the steps.
When they were in the foyer, Evan stopped. "Dad! I'm home. Mom's here. She wants to talk to you."
Charlie steeled herself for the fight they were about to have. Scott emerged from the living room. He wore the pair of fine grey wool pants and a white button-down with no tie and the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms.
"You look nice," Charlie said.
"Charlie?" Scott said. He straightened up even more than normal and his chest jutted out just a little. It reminded Charlie of a peacock. "This is unexpected." The words were polite, but none of it carried over into his tone.
"Yes. I'm sure it is. I need to speak with you," she said.
A tall blonde that could've been Charlie's twin rounded the corner from the dining room into the living room and took her place next to Scott. Her cool smile showed her perfectly white, straight teeth.
"Charlie," Heather said. "What a nice surprise." Heather slipped her hand in the crook of Scott's elbow as if to say he's mine. Her sparkling green eyes regarded Charlie with extreme caution.
"Alone, Scott. Now," Charlie said.
"What's this about?" Heather asked.
"It's about parenting," Charlie said. "If you'll excuse us, Heather."
The smile on Heather's face faded, and her lips turned down just a little bit at the corners. "Scott. I think we need to tell her."
"No," Scott said using a tone that at one time would have made Charlie shrink. "Now is not the time, Heather." Charlie almost felt sorry for her. After his near-death experience, Scott had sworn off his old ways. But it seemed that day-to-day living and other influences had caused Scott to backslide slowly. It made Charlie sad. She had liked the new Scott much more than the old Scott.
"Come with me Charlie," Scott said. He pressed his hand against Heather's to reassure her before pulling away. Charlie followed him through the house to his office. At least the changes here had stayed. He closed the door behind them and directed Charlie to the leather couch against the wall. "Have a seat."
Charlie sat on one end and Scott on the other. "What's going on with Evan?"
"First of all, he's afraid of you. And that concerns me greatly. Because if he's afraid of you, he's not gonna talk to you and tell you things," Charlie said. "And that makes me very sad for you. He's gonna be thirteen years old in three weeks. Is that the relationship you want to have with your son?"
Scott stared at her. His square jaw tightened. And his lips pressed into a straight line. "Why is he afraid of me? I've never even spanked him."
"You know why he's afraid of you, Scott. And it has nothing to do with whether or not you've spanked him. You judge him. He's smart, and he's very well-educated. We made sure that. And he feels things stronger than most boys his age. Hell, most boys at all," she said.
"What you want me to do, Charlie?"
"I just want you to love him, that's all. Love him for who he is. Not who you want him to be,” Charlie said.
"Evan is a child. He doesn't know who he is yet," Scott said.
"And that’s the problem," Charlie said.
"What? That he doesn't know who he is yet?" Scott said.
"No. The problem is you don't want to let him figure out who that is,” Charlie said.
"Did you come here just to lecture me?" Scott said, sounding exasperated.
"No, actually," Charlie said. "I came to ask you about Evan's birthday."
"Yes, he told me he was going to invite you to his party on Friday night," Scott said. "You're welcome to come."
"No, this isn't about that. This is about the day of his actual birthday,” Charlie said.
"He's going trick-or-treating with his friends. Heather and I figured we would take him out for an early dinner,” Scott said.
"Well, I've already talked to him, and he's not really into trick-or-treating this year. As you know, my uncle has a bonfire on Halloween every year. And we drink apple cider and tell ghost stories and have a good time. Evan would like to come,” Charlie said.
"It's not your week, Charlie," Scott said.
"I know it's not my week Scott. That's why I'm here." Charlie felt heat creeping up her neck into her cheeks. "Evan wants to be there. And I would like him there if that's where he wants to be. You're still gonna have a party for him. He’s still gonna have his friends over. It's not as if he's going to be missing out on anything."
Scott grimaced while listening to her. And she felt herself getting ready to fight harder. She didn't want it to turn into a shouting match. That wouldn't accomplish anything except upsetting Evan. She softened her face and her tone. She could do that for her son.
"Please," Charlie said. "It would mean a lot to him and to me."
Scott drew in a breath through his nose and his nostrils flared out. Charlie braced for the worst.
"Can I think about it?" Scott asked. An olive branch. She would take it.
"Yes, absolutely. Talk to him about it," she said.
"I will," Scott said.
"Thank you," Charlie said getting to her feet.
"I'll let you know something next weekend. All right?"
"Perfect," Charlie said. And she left his office feeling lighter than she ever had in all their years of marriage. Maybe she was wrong. Perhaps the changes had stuck. It was one instance where she would much rather be wrong than right.
The bell jingled above her head when Charlie walked through the front door of The Kitchen Witch Café. She slowed her pace just long enough to scan the interior of her cousin's restaurant. It was quiet for a late afternoon. A few tables had patrons eating a late lunch or an early dinner. But nothing like the bustle it would be in about an hour or two. After dropping Evan off, she headed straight here to meet Tom Sharon. S
he found him sitting at the counter near the cash register. His back to her. He leaned forward on his elbows and whatever he was saying to Jen made her laugh. All the stress from the last twenty-four hours melted away and she felt lighter as she approached Tom. She hoped whatever magic he was working on Jen would rub off on her. Jen finished counting the money in her hand and closed the register drawer. She glanced up and gave Charlie a wave. Tom looked over his shoulder and smiled, obviously happy to see her. When she was almost to the counter, he stood up and held out a hand for her. She found her feet moving faster. And he wrapped his arms around her as soon as she was close enough. She melted against him and breathed him in. He smelled like her favorite cologne. She could get lost in that scent.
"Are you all right?" he said softly against her ear.
"I am now," she said.
"You want to talk about it?" he asked.
"Yes I do," she said.
Tom pulled out of their embrace and searched her face. "Something's happened."
Charlie nodded but didn't say anything more. Her gaze flitted to her cousin.
"I was wondering if I was gonna see you today or not," Jen said. "I’m fixin’ to leave for the day, as soon as Ben gets here."
"Are you in a hurry?" Charlie asked.
"Not particularly," Jen said. "Everything okay?"
"I think that all depends on your perspective," Charlie said.
"Okay," Jen said, her tone full of wariness. "Why don't I get your orders and we’ll sit down and talk about it."
Charlie nodded and slipped her hand into Tom's and headed for an empty booth.
Jen put two tea glasses on the table and slid into the booth across from Charlie and Tom. "Your orders are in, and Ben is on his way. Now what's going on?"
Charlie wrinkled her nose. "How long before he gets here?"
"Probably a few minutes. You want to wait?" Jen asked.
