Grace Under Fury

by Annabel Chase

  I peered at the older woman. Her gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun, which only served to accentuate her chipmunk cheeks. She wore a black T-shirt with the words I Do Yoga Because Punching People Is Frowned Upon stretched across her ample chest.

  “Mrs. Marr?” As the high school principal’s secretary, Francine Marr had been a fixture in the office during my years there. If you wanted to be on the principal’s good side, it was best to get on Mrs. Marr’s good side first.

  “That’s right, dear. It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?”

  “Are you here for the yoga class?” I asked.

  “She teaches it.” Clara appeared beside Mrs. Marr in a light pink T-shirt that read Heavily Meditated.

  “Wow, that’s great,” I said. “You’re not at the high school anymore?”

  “I retired, and then quickly realized constant downtime wasn’t for me, so I decided to tackle something new,” Mrs. Marr said. “Yoga was a revelation for me.”

  It was heartening to know that, even at Mrs. Marr’s age, I could start a new, satisfying chapter in life.

  “Eden, you actually came. Color me shocked.” Sassafras “Sassy” Persimmons bounced toward me, each step punctuated by the swing of her blond ponytail.

  “I didn’t realize you’d be here, too, Sassy,” I said. The former cheerleader was in a relationship with Tanner, my smarmy ex-boyfriend. In fact, their relationship started in high school, when he and I were still dating, but I digress.

  “It’s okay, isn’t it?” Clara asked quietly. Clara and Sassy’s friendship blossomed at The Buttermilk Bugle, the town newspaper, where Clara is a fledgling reporter and Sassy sells advertising. Clara and I had been somewhat estranged during my years away. Now that I was back, I’d been trying to accept the presence of Sassy in my life. Some moments were easier than others.

  I squeezed Clara’s arm to let her feel my emotions and she smiled in response. As an empath, Clara only needed to touch me to know how I felt. Like many gifts, it was both a blessing and a curse. Clara tended to steer clear of romantic relationships because she found the weight of emotions involved too much to bear. I knew she was still struggling to accept the departure of Quinn Redmond, the FBM agent who’d recently come to town to oversee my training. Although they’d fallen hard and fast, his job didn’t allow for him to stay in one place very long.

  “I’m looking forward to trying this, although—fair warning—I might need to be carried out by paramedics,” I said.

  Mrs. Marr patted my shoulder. “Not to worry, dear. We accept all kinds here. Beginners have nothing to fear from me.”

  “Except her peacock pose,” Sassy whispered. “It’s killer. You should definitely fear that.”

  Two fit men entered the studio and unrolled their brightly colored mats. One was as toned as the other, although one of them reeked of cologne, which seemed an odd choice for yoga class.

  “Shanti, shanti, shanti, girls,” the one guy said by way of greeting.

  “I don’t have a mat,” I said, suddenly anxious. I felt as though I’d shown up for a baseball game without a bat and glove.

  “Not to worry. I have extras,” Mrs. Marr said. She gestured to the far wall where mats were stacked in a neat pile.

  “I’ll get you one,” Sassy offered. She bounced across the room and gave the men a flirtatious smile along the way.

  “Sassy still doesn’t realize they’re married,” Clara said.

  “Do you really think that would that stop her?” I asked.

  Clara smiled. “To each other.”

  Ah.

  “Eden, I’d like you to meet Shayne and Ethan,” Mrs. Marr said. “They’re two of my dedicated regulars.”

  Great. More yoga experts to put me to shame. I should have joined my niece’s preschool class where I would’ve been less noticeable.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “Here you go, Eden.” Sassy unrolled a mat for me next to hers. I wasn’t sure which placement would be worse—next to the extremely fit guys or the limber former cheerleader.

  “Thanks.” My gaze was drawn to the logo on Shayne’s tank top. “Wow. The Devil’s Playground. I haven’t thought of that place since I tried to sneak in when Clara and I were in high school.”

  Clara snorted. “That was not one of our shining moments.”

  “My brother ratted me out,” I said. “I was punished for a week.” And by punished, I mean they put a protective ward around the house that prevented me from leaving except for going to and from school. If I tried to leave at an unauthorized time, I got zapped. Painfully.

  Shayne winked at me. “Ethan owns the place. That’s how we met.”

  My gaze flickered to Shayne’s husband. “Do you? How cool. I always wanted to see the inside.”

  “Well, you’re old enough now,” Ethan said. “We’ve got a fantastic band lined up for tomorrow night. You should come by.”

  “Maybe I will,” I said, assuming I was able to function for the next couple of days after this class. No promises.

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Sassy said, appearing confused. “How can you all know about a bar I’ve never heard of?”

  “It’s not your kind of crowd,” Clara said.

  Sassy’s brow lifted. “Oh,” she whispered. “It’s one of those darkly lit bars for unattractive people?”

  “Yes, exactly,” I said firmly. That would end Sassy’s interest right there.

  Sassy swung the end of her ponytail over her shoulder. “That’s fine. I have plans tomorrow night. I’m helping Bridget McKay practice for the Miss Chipping Cheddar parade. I’m sure you remember that I wore the crown when we were fifteen.”

  I tensed at the mention of the festival. Maybe no one here would remember.

  “I’m teaching Bridget how to walk and smile,” Sassy said.

  I gave a mock gasp. “At the same time?”

  Sassy climbed onto her mat on all fours and arched her back. “You’re just upset because your family’s banned from attending.”

  So much for no one remembering.

  Shayne gave me a curious look. “Your family is banned from Cheese-chella?”

  “All of them,” Sassy replied for me. She seemed annoyingly satisfied to tell the story. “They caused chaos the year I was Miss Chipping Cheddar. Several stalls were ruined. It was a miracle no one was hurt.”

  “Sassy,” Clara said softly.

  Ethan and Shayne stared at me, clearly eager to hear the rest of the story.

  “Oh, I remember that year,” Mrs. Marr said. “Such excitement. Seeing the firemen in action was a real highlight.” She took her place at the front of the room and sat cross-legged on her mat. “I’d forgotten it was your family, Eden.”

  “It was an accident,” Clara said. “The story was completely exaggerated.”

  I smiled gratefully. Clara had earned her best friend stripes with unfailing loyalty and a non-judgmental approach to my family.

  “Tanner’s mom saw the whole thing,” Sassy said. “She said that Eden’s grandmother tried to set fire to Eden’s mom, and one of the stalls caught fire, which then spread to the entire row.”

  “I never believed it,” Mrs. Marr said. “What kind of woman tries to set fire to her own daughter?”

  The kind that’s dipped in evil water at birth, I wanted to reply, but held my tongue.

  “Eden’s grandmother used to smoke,” Clara said. “She accidentally set fire to a stall when she was lighting a cigarette. The crisis was averted.”

  That was partially true. Grandma had been a heavy smoker for years until my mother threatened to kick her out of the house if she didn’t quit. They’d been fighting about it in the middle of the festival and had nearly come to blows. My mother had tried to relieve Grandma of her cigarettes and lighter and naturally magic came into play. I stupidly tried to intervene by siphoning magic from both witches in an effort to subdue them. Needless to say, it didn’t go well for anyone. Aunt Thora was able to douse most of the flames
before the firefighters arrived. Still, most of my family was banned from future festivals as a result.

  “Why don’t we focus on more pleasant thoughts?” Mrs. Marr suggested. “Presumably, Eden is here to relax and clear her mind, not clutter it with painful memories.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “On that note, why don’t we start with a few minutes of silence in order to transition into the present?” Mrs. Marr said. She tapped the screen of her phone and the soothing sounds of the ocean began to play. “We’ll start in corpse pose.”

  I flinched. “Did you say corpse?”

  “Savasana is the pose of complete relaxation,” Mrs. Marr said.

  I watched Clara move onto her back with her arms and legs at forty-five degree angles. Unsurprisingly, Sassy paused to admire her own form in the mirror on the wall before assuming the position. The soft curve of her lips told me the reflection met with her approval.

  The moment I closed my eyes and tried to relax, I started to doze off. When I realized I was falling asleep, my whole body jerked upward and I yelled out, “No, Fergus!”

  Sassy snickered. “Who’s Fergus? Your boyfriend in San Francisco?”

  “My old FBI partner,” I said, my cheeks warm from embarrassment.

  “You were an FBI agent?” Ethan asked, turning his head toward me while in corpse position.

  “I still am,” I said. It was a necessary lie. “I work out of a small satellite office.”

  Shayne and Ethan exchanged glances. “Here in Chipping Cheddar?” Shayne asked. “We don’t even warrant a Starbucks, yet we have an FBI office?”

  “Don’t need a Starbucks,” I said. “The Daily Grind is excellent and Magic Beans is my new favorite.”

  “I haven’t tried Magic Beans yet,” Ethan said, “though I adore Rosalie LeRoux, so I would definitely like to support her daughter.”

  “How do you know Rosalie?” I asked.

  “She read palms at our wedding,” Shayne said.

  Of course she did.

  Mrs. Marr snapped her fingers. “We’re supposed to be in the pose of the dead. That means silence. Remember, the dead don’t speak.”

  “Ha!” I said. Try telling that to Alice Wentworth or some of the other ghosts I’d encountered.

  “What was that, Eden?” Mrs. Marr said.

  “Nothing,” I mumbled.

  “Now we’re going to move into paschimottanasana,” Mrs. Marr said. How she managed to get her body that flat, I had no idea.

  “What do you think?” Clara asked me. “Ready to try this one?”

  “I can’t even pronounce it, let alone try it,” I said.

  “It’s easy,” Sassy proclaimed.

  So are you, I wanted to say, but refrained for Clara’s sake.

  The next pose was equally challenging. I glanced next to me to see Sassy in a position that I’d inadvertently witnessed when I caught Anton watching porn when we were younger.

  “I’m starting to understand what Tanner sees in you,” I said.

  “Your issue isn’t with your flexibility,” Mrs. Marr said. “It’s your inability to relax.”

  “What? I’m relaxed,” I said. I jiggled my arms to show how limp they were for good measure.

  “You seem as relaxed as a vampire in church,” Mrs. Marr said.

  My shoulders stiffened all over again. “Excuse me?”

  The older woman laughed. “It’s just an expression, dear. I didn’t want to shame women by using the whore-in-church analogy.”

  “And whores everywhere thank you for that,” I said, “including the one in here.”

  Sassy narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Let’s slowly rise and move into tree pose,” Mrs. Marr said. She stood with her hands pressed together above her head and a foot pressed against the inside of her opposite leg.

  I copied her pose with relative ease this time.

  “Oh my, I…I feel dizzy,” Mrs. Marr said. Before anyone could intervene, the older woman toppled over.

  “Francine,” Ethan said. He scrambled from his mat and was the first to reach her.

  “Maybe her bun was too tight and it cut off her circulation,” Sassy said.

  I cut her a sharp glance. Every time I wanted to view Sassy in a new light, she reminded me that it would be an uphill battle.

  Mrs. Marr moaned and opened her eyes. “That was unpleasant,” she whispered, still flat on the mat.

  “Did you lose your balance?” Shayne asked.

  “No, she was practicing a new position called Gravity Wins,” I said. As soon as the sarcasm rolled of my tongue, I wished I could snatch it back. It was hard to overcome a lifetime of conditioning.

  “At least the mat cushioned her fall,” Sassy said.

  “The mat?” Mrs. Marr murmured. “It was my extra layer of blubber.” She moved to a seated position and put her head between her legs. “It’s finally good for something, so I’m giving it credit.”

  Clara brought her a water bottle. “How do you feel now?”

  Mrs. Marr touched her head. “That’s never happened to me before. I think I might be coming down with something.”

  “My bartender called out sick last night,” Ethan said. “I think something’s going around.”

  “I felt woozy before I left the house,” Mrs. Marr admitted. “I thought my seasonal allergies were flaring up.”

  “It still might be that,” Clara said. “But you should hydrate and rest.”

  Mrs. Marr nodded. “I’m sorry about class, everyone. I’ll refund you.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Ethan said. “You focus on your health.”

  Shayne and Ethan offered to drive Mrs. Marr home and she gratefully accepted.

  “Well, your first yoga class was certainly exciting,” Clara said, as we exited the building.

  “It’s not supposed to be,” Sassy said. “That’s the whole point. It’s Nama-stay awake but in a calm and collected state.”

  I moved my neck from side to side. “I feel more flexible already.”

  Clara gave me a critical look. “You’re just saying that.”

  “Of course I am, but mind over matter, right?”

  Clara bit back a smile. “You just think if you say it often enough, your body would eventually believe it.”

  I gave her arm a playful punch. “I think I liked it better when we weren’t speaking.”

  Sassy sucked in a breath. “Whoa, that’s dark.”

  Clara’s expression crumpled. “Don’t even joke. Let’s never do that again.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I paused.

  “I’ll see you at the office, Clara,” Sassy said. “I have a client meeting in an hour.”

  I waited until Sassy was out of earshot to ask, “Have you heard from Agent Redmond?”

  Clara’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “We decided it was best to…” She cut herself off, unable to continue.

  “I’m going to stop now, before I say something catastrophic,” I said. “How about coming to The Devil’s Playground tonight? That sounds fun.”

  She shook her head. “Too many bodies knocking into me means too many emotions.”

  “I’m clearly the worst friend ever. Are you sure you want to stay friends with me?”

  Clara wrapped her arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze. “Always.”

  Chapter Four

  “Are you sure you’re going out?” my mother asked.

  “What kind of question is that?” I asked. “Who else would be sure if not me? I’m the one doing it.”

  My mother’s critical gaze traveled from my head to my feet. “Okay, if you say so.”

  I groaned. “What’s the problem?”

  “There’s no problem,” she replied. “I know you’re not one for keeping up appearances. You be you, sweetheart.” She pinched my cheek.

  I glanced down at my light gray capris and a black sleeveless top. “What’s wrong with me?”

  My mother took a step back, assessing me fu
lly. “Where do I start? I was going to lead with your shoes, but we can discuss your hair first.”

  I closed my eyes in an effort not to roll them. It didn’t work. Turns out they roll just as well when the lids are closed.

  “I brushed my hair and used the straightener to defrizz it,” I said. “What more do you want from me?”

  “It’s nothing I want from you, honey, but if you want men to want something from you, you’re going to have to do a little better than that.”

  “I’m going to listen to a band in a dark bar,” I said. “My hair and clothes will be mere silhouettes.”

  “No one notices a silhouette unless it’s built like Jessica Rabbit,” my mother said.

  “What’s this about rabbits?” Grandma entered the kitchen in her robe and bunny slippers.

  “A little early for that ensemble, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “I’m old,” Grandma said. “You think I register time like a normal being?”

  “I don’t think you register emotions like a normal being,” I muttered.

  My mother folded her arms. “I find it fascinating that you make a stink when I mention your outfit, yet you have no trouble commenting on Grandma’s.”

  “That’s not an outfit,” I said.

  My mother nodded firmly. “My opinion exactly.”

  I retrieved my purse from the counter. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up.”

  Footsteps thundered down the steps. “Wait! I’ll go with you.” My brother appeared at the entrance to the kitchen, nearly breathless.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he said quickly. “We’re going now, right?”

  “Anton,” Verity yelled. “You come back here this instant. I need help.”

  “Code Five,” Anton said, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild.

  My brow creased. “What’s a Code Five?”

  My mother blanched. “Which one?”

  “Ryan,” he said.

  “Which end?” Grandma added.

  Anton fought for breath. “The bottom half.”

  My mother grimaced. “Oh no, diapers. At least Olivia is able to use the toilet.”

  I didn’t need to hear anymore. “Let’s go.”

  “I’ll light the charmed candles,” Aunt Thora said from her place at the table. “They’ll absorb the smell.”