In the Teeth of It

by K A Miltimore

  Michael picked up the dress and held it up toward Hedy, careful not to actually invade her space. There was a line between helpful and intrusive and he seemed well aware of it. A man selling women’s clothing had to be respectful.

  “Yes, I love it and I think it will just fit, especially since it is more of an A line shape. That’s a style that is quite forgiving of my love of cookies.” Hedy held the dress closer and took a look in the mirror; it was exactly the style she would have chosen for herself.

  “Wonderful. I have some adorable flats if you need them or perhaps a red pocketbook. I suspect though that you have a full wardrobe of accessories.” Michael laughed again and Hedy nodded; yes, she had more than her share of accessories gathered throughout her travels.

  “Well, let’s ring you up then so you can be back to tending your bakery. I can’t wait to see you debut this dress at the Christmas market.”

  Michael led the way to the front counter and Hedy placed the dress on the black Formica countertop. Her troubles were still waiting for her back at the shop, but she felt lighter having been out in the world and meeting what she hoped was a new friend. A handsome new friend.

  “Thank you so much for the dress. I can see myself coming back again soon for more treasures. And do come by the shop, I’d love to show you around.” Hedy fished a business card out of her purse as she gathered her wallet to pay. It wasn’t fancy like Kaitlyn’s wooden cards, but it was rather elegant, if Hedy said so herself.

  “I will come by at my first opportunity. Thank you for the invitation, and thank you for the purchase. I’ll see you on Saturday, Hedy.” Michael carefully folded the dress and placed it in a black bag with red tissue paper. Hedy noticed the small bat printed on the top of the receipt.

  “Thank you, Michael. See you then.” Hedy waved as she left the shop, watching him return to his rainbow glove display. The Christmas market was only two days away and she was now looking forward to it. She smiled as she walked back toward the Corvair and the return trip to the shop.

  Chapter Eight

  Mel was really in the Christmas spirit this year. Maybe it was working all day with gingerbread and the fact that she had someone now to kiss under the mistletoe, but she was really feeling festive. The annual trip out to the Christmas tree farm seemed like an especially good idea, even piled in the family Jeep with her mom and her brother. She sent Ana a text with a kiss emoji next to a crashing wave before sticking her phone in her pocket. Cell service out at the tree arm would be spotty.

  “Who is ready for some Christmas carols?” Mel’s mother, Candace, was fiddling with the satellite radio instead of keeping her eyes on the road.

  “Hey, Mom, let me do that. You drive, okay?” Mel had called shotgun before they left the house and her brother, Mark, was in the backseat.

  “No Christmas songs, okay? Jeez, I hate that stuff,” Mark whined from his seat and Mel looked for the “Holly” station on the dial. The Waitresses’ Christmas Wrapping filled the car. “Ah crap,” said Mark.

  “That’s enough, Mark. ‘Tis the season, you know. You gotta get in the mood for the tree farm. Uncle Jim and Dylan will be there. I don’t know if Jim is bringing his girlfriend or not.” Candace said the word “girlfriend” with a bit too much emphasis. Clearly, she was not a fan.

  “Fine, but I am not going on any hayride. I’m telling you that right now.” Mark sulked in the seat, more annoyed than anything that his cellphone had no range out near the tree farm.

  They pulled into the driveway marked with a large tree cut out painted with reflective paint and found a spot in the rather muddy field that served for parking. Apparently, half of Enumclaw must have decided that tonight was a good night to get a tree because the lot was packed.

  “Wow, what’s with tonight? It’s not even the weekend,” Mel asked no one in particular but her mother answered.

  “I think tonight is the Boy Scout event out here. They are doing some kind of fundraiser. Plus, I think the chamber choir is also here to perform. Anyway, grab the work gloves in the back, Mark.”

  He grunted in reply and they all gingerly stepped out of the Jeep, trying to avoid mud. Mel had wisely worn some rubber boots, but Mark was still in his old Converse and she could hear them squish. It made her laugh.

  “Let’s find our tree.” Candace headed toward the strings of lights that framed the barn. It wouldn’t be too much longer before it was really dark, and the bonfire was lit. Mel always enjoyed the bonfire.

  Jim and Dylan were waiting near the entrance, with no sight of the girlfriend; it was just the two of them. Dylan, twelve years old and shy by nature, gave a short wave toward them. Mel thought he looked like a miniature version of Mark, which wasn’t necessarily a compliment. The kid had dark hair and a rather underdeveloped chin. Hopefully he’d grow a beard when he grew up, though Mark hadn’t taken the hint yet.

  “Hi, you guys. Good to see you.” Mel reached out and gave Dylan’s hair a tussle. He smiled at her in return. Candace gave Jim a hug; they had been close as siblings since their parents had died years ago. Now, both divorced and raising kids, they had even more in common.

  “Ready for some cider, Dylan?” Candace asked the boy and he nodded quickly. “Well, lead the way. Let’s get inside.” The group entered the lot and headed back toward the barn where there was cider and donuts for sale. Mel could see that a line was forming. There was a troop of Cub Scouts in full uniform scampering about, all clambering for a glass; this could take a while.

  “Jim and I can wait in line for the cider if you guys want to start looking around.” Candace said. Mel figured Mom wanted a chance to grill Uncle Jim about his girlfriend in private.

  “Yeah, we can do that.” Mel and Dylan peeled off from the group, with Mark hovering beyond them somewhere.

  A boy about Dylan’s age came running up, cheeks bright red from the run. “Hey, Dylan. Wanna see something cool? We found something.” Mel was pleased to see Dylan had a friend; she wasn’t so sure he was a popular kid at school, being so shy.

  “Yeah, but I have to ask my Dad.” Dylan slipped back toward the line and in a few seconds was back. “He said I could go but I have to stay nearby. Is it far?”

  “Nah, it’s close. Come on.” The kid turned and began running back the way he came, with Dylan hot on his heels. He turned back and gave Mel a wave.

  “Have fun,” she called out and she headed over toward the makeshift stage to watch the singers lineup. Tonight would be fun.

  ✽✽✽

  “We gotta go through the fence here.” Randy was leading Dylan to the very edge of the farm property, which butted up to the forest and Mount Enumclaw. The darkness was getting thicker and the Christmas tree lights weren’t helping.

  “This is pretty far, Randy. I don’t think my dad would want me to leave the farm.” Dylan was hesitating at the fence, while Randy squeezed through the opening.

  “Oh, come on. It's just over here, hardly passed the fence. We found this cool cave entrance. The guys have flashlights. We think it is part of an old mine tunnel. You gotta see it.” Randy had befriended Dylan part way through the school year and Dylan didn’t relish the prospect of disappointing his friend. He didn’t have enough to risk the loss.

  “Okay. If it is just on the edge here, I suppose that’s okay.” Dylan slipped through the fence easily and followed Randy’s red jacket toward the dark of the forest. He did not like this, but he couldn’t look afraid.

  As they entered the forest, Dylan was worried he was going to trip in the darkness. There was a path of sorts and he kept his eyes fixed on the red of Randy’s jacket. Ahead, he saw the faint glow of light from behind a rock.

  “That’s it. The entrance to the cave. See, it isn’t far.” Randy’s voice sounded thin in the echo of the trees. Dylan would be glad to get to the light and then make his way back to the farm.

  “Randy, is that you?” Dylan heard the voice of Tamara, another classmate, from behind the rock. Dylan had a crush on Tamara and ha
d since last year. Every time he saw her, he felt that slightly sickening feeling in his stomach. Now he definitely needed to keep cool.

  “Yeah, and I brought Dylan. You guys find anything?” Randy rounded the edge of the rock and the light from the flashlights was coming from deeper into the cave. Tamara was standing near the entrance, holding a small flashlight.

  “Steve and Harley are down there. I waited here for you. Hi, Dylan.” Tamara gave him a quick nod and Dylan nodded in return. It was the most she had said to him in months.

  “Well, let’s go. I bet there is something cool down there. Maybe even gold.” Randy charged ahead, leaving Tamara and Dylan to bring up the rear. The light seemed deep inside the cave, but at least they had the small light from Tamara’s flashlight to guide them into the dark.

  Randy called out to Steve and Harley, but no one responded. “How deep did they go? Dang, you think they can’t hear me?” Randy hollered again and this time, they heard a voice, very faint, calling back. They still hadn’t reached the orangish light.

  “Maybe we should head back up. We can tell Steve and Harley to come back. I’m not sure I want to be this far down in here,” Tamara said, giving voice to what Dylan had been thinking and he immediately began nodding in the darkness.

  “Yeah, Randy. I should be getting back. My dad is going to start looking for me.” Dylan saw Randy’s red coat pause ahead of them.

  “Well, yeah, maybe. We can come back in the daylight with more lights.” Randy paused and cleared his throat to holler again. “Hey, Steve, Harley, come on back. Come back, you guys.” The sound bounced around the cave walls and buffeted their ears.

  In the darkness they heard a small voice calling back to them. “Come here. We need help.”

  “Oh, crap. Maybe they are stuck. We gotta go down and get them.” Randy started walking again, following the glow of Tamara’s flashlight.

  “Maybe we should get help first?” Tamara sounded scared to Dylan and his own prickles on the back of his neck were saying the same thing. This seemed like a bad idea.

  “No, we gotta help them. They can’t be much further, see the light is getting brighter,” Randy insisted. He was right, the light was getting stronger, but it had a weird reddish orange tint to it.

  They followed the tunnel down, getting closer and closer to the light, and the sounds of the boys’ cries for help.

  Chapter Nine

  Hedy was on Dumaine Street, between Royal and Chartres, a stretch that she had walked a hundred times. She could find her way to Delphine and Tante’s shop in the French Quarter with her eyes closed. It was just past the Cornstalk Hotel and far enough away from trashy Bourbon Street that the stench of stale booze and piss was out of the spring breeze.

  She loved this part of the Quarter, with cobbled streets and iron balconies draped with riotous flowers and a few errant Mardi-Gras beads. But now, the door to Delphine’s psychic shop was locked and she was frantically twisting the old knob; it had never been locked to her before.

  “She ain’t there, Chère. You won’t find her.” An old woman was sitting on a small wooden bench along the wall next to the shop. She smelled like chicory.

  “Where is she? She’s always here in the evening. I need to find Delphine.” She heard her own voice, younger and urgent; the sound of another life from another time. Where was Delphine? What had Anita done to her? There was sweat pooling in the small of her back, clammy in the night breeze. Her breath was shallow and tight in her chest.

  “She ain’t there, Chère. You won’t find her.” The old woman was gone and, in her place, sat a large fox, brushing its tail with its paw, its lips cracked in a sly smile. The teeth were glinting under the lamp light.

  She continued on down Dumaine but it wasn’t the Dumaine Street she knew. Instead of the shops selling Cajun art, the museum of Voodoo, and the po’boy restaurant, there were just rows and rows of shotgun houses, painted in easter egg shades of yellow, blue, and purple. Row after row of the narrow houses, with wooden slat doors and small front windows. Everything seemed wrong.

  “Delphine? Where are you? I need your help. Delphine!” she called but no one answered. Zydeco music was playing from one of the houses and someone had a pot of gumbo cooking; she could smell the filé powder and the green peppers, slowly decomposing into something thick and inseparable. She heard the call of the red-winged blackbird, telling on her.

  She was running out of time. She had no more breath in her lungs and the air around her felt solid, far too thick to gulp.

  “Delphine! Help me! Anita’s done a terrible thing. We have to help Julius.” Her voice sounded far away, like it was being sucked into a doorway and pulled out of the night air. She knew Delphine would never hear her. She would have to find Julius on her own. No one was listening, no one was there. Sweat trickled into her eyes.

  “Who is Delphine, Chère? You can tell me.” The fox was walking beside her and no matter how quickly she walked, it easily loped alongside, keeping pace.

  “Delphine is my friend. She is Julius’ friend. I need her.” Hedy didn’t have time for these questions.

  The fox seemed very interested and was listening intently to her answer.

  “And who is Julius? You can tell me.” The fox had stopped and now she was in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, surrounded by the above-ground stone tombs of New Orleans that had marked time for the last four hundred years.

  “No, not here. We can’t be here. Not at night. I have to go find Julius.” She started to run but her feet were bolted to the crushed rock and compact dirt. The fox was watching her quizzically.

  “Forget about Julius. Forget about Delphine. Forget about this place. This is your past; I want to know about the present. Who are you?” the fox pressed, growing impatient.

  “I can’t forget, don’t you understand? They need me, someone needs me. Someone is looking for me. I am needed.”

  The fox would never understand her, that much was clear.

  “Tell me what I want to know.” The fox began to snarl, fangs growing longer and claws sharpening. She couldn’t move at all and she couldn’t scream. The fox was coming closer to her but now it was the silhouette of darkness, faceless and menacing, swallowing up the stone tombs one by one.

  “Hedy, hear me. Hedy, wake up. Dreams, only dreams.” The voice called to her, as if from above, as if coming from a bluish white light that was blanketing her. It was familiar and friendly and calling her, pulling on her mind. She heard the fox shadow hiss and then withdraw, leaving her alone in the cemetery.

  “Wake. Wake up.” The voice of Adelaide pulled at her, drawing her mind out of the dark swirl of memories. She woke with a start, sitting up in her bed with sweat soaking her cotton nightgown and the flutter of her curtains moving the cold air.

  “Adelaide? Was that you?” Hedy’s voice was shaky. She hadn’t dreamed about New Orleans in a long time, but this dream seemed different somehow. Someone was questioning her, chasing her, probing her mind. She couldn’t remember who.

  The room was quiet. The curtains had stopped fluttering, but Hedy wished Adelaide would appear and help her remember. Was it an animal in the dream? It was an old woman. Hedy pictured the face again, and then watched it morph into the figure of a fox.

  “Yes, a fox. It was a fox, Adelaide,” she called out but Adelaide didn’t answer. The room was still dark and there were hours left until daybreak, but Hedy didn’t dare close her eyes.

  She was sure the fox would be waiting in her dream if she did.

  Chapter Ten

  Friday dawned and Hedy was up to watch it, unable to stay in bed any longer. Neither of her guests had appeared for dinner the night before, so she found herself in her room early with nothing but her thoughts and fragments of bad dreams. She had left a tray outside each of their rooms, but both were untouched.

  “You’re up early, Hedy. I was about to head out for my morning flight.” Alice was preening her feathers and seemed delighted that someone was up so early to talk wi
th her. Zelda and Maurice were nowhere to be seen.

  “Yes, I couldn’t sleep. It’s a bit stressful right now and my mind is going a million miles a second, hibbity-jibbity. I had a terrible dream and it seemed like a good idea to get up and work instead of tossing in bed.” Alice nodded as if she understood what Hedy was saying but in truth, her bird brain never had multiple thoughts at once.

  “Haven’t seen much of your guests. Not to be rude, but I liked the other two better,” Alice chirped in a gossip like fashion and finished her feather fluffing. Time to get to the sky.

  “Well, it would be rude of me to comment but I did enjoy Bren and Ana. In fact, I hope to see Ana this weekend at the market. It’s been awhile.”

  “Well, I must dash now. I’ll catch some breakfast outside, so don’t worry about me. Ta-Ta.” Alice trilled and left her perch, heading for the small window over the sink that Hedy always kept open for her. In a flash, the magpie was gone, and Hedy was alone again.

  “Mel won’t be here for hours. Perhaps I could read for a bit.” Hedy liked the sound of her voice in the empty kitchen; it made her feel less edgy.

  She poured herself a cup of coffee from the percolator she had on the stove. She took her cup and headed into the entry, stopping to admire the tree as she went. It really was a beautiful tree, with all the spiders and soft silver lights. Whether it was traditional or not was a matter of interpretation, but it was nonetheless a lovely thing.

  On a small roll-top desk against the wall, Hedy found the book she was looking for. “Encyclopedia of World Mythology,” Hedy read the title aloud and smiled. The author might be shocked at how many of the entries in the book she had hosted in her waystation. Hedy took the book and her coffee into the little parlor near the front door and settled into an overstuffed velvet chair, wrapping a wool throw around her. This early in the morning, the house was chilly.