Now that I was losing my playmate in three short days, I needed something to occupy my time and a place in which to do that thing. I needed a room of my own, so to speak. In the summer, or when the weather was at least warm enough to enjoy being outside by a fire, sitting on the sundeck over the boathouse was my perfect place. I’d taken up sketching not long ago, and the view from the sundeck was high on my list of scenes to sketch. Not practical in the midst of a northern-Wisconsin winter, however. It’s hard to draw with frozen fingers.
Choosing a spot shouldn’t have been such a difficult decision. Pine Time, the bed-and-breakfast my boyfriend Tripp Bennett and I ran together, was housed on a decent-sized property. Seven bedrooms, seven-and-a-half bathrooms, an attic apartment, and an apartment over the boathouse. Tripp and I lived in the attic apartment. The bedrooms were for our guests, so I couldn’t use any of them. The boathouse apartment would also be for guests but was closed for the winter. Tripp and our long-term renter, River Carr, had turned the basement into their man cave. Tripp had set up a hard cider-making operation in one half. The other half was now a woodworking shop where the two of them were building furniture for River’s daughter, due in May.
Other than building me a she shed, there was only one spot left on the property I could use. After a lot of back-and-forth, I decided the loft over the garage was the place for me. This spot had been my grandmother’s personal space as well. She used it as her altar room where she worshipped and conducted Wiccan ceremonies.
The only downside to the loft in the winter was that it got cold up there, and my little space heater wasn’t cutting it.
“Maybe I can convince Tripp to put in a freestanding fireplace. That’s not a simple job, though. I’ll get a second space heater for now. Oh, one that looks like a wood-burning stove would be very cute.”
Meeka stared up at me like I’d gone nuts.
“I know it’s not the same.” I held all my fingers in front of me, pointing up, and wiggled them. “It looks like fire though. And I think some have crackling wood sound effects.”
She yawned.
“It’s all about ambience, Meeka.”
Uninterested in my woes or desires, she’d already trotted off to explore a far corner of the loft.
Looking around at how happy the space made me now, I couldn’t believe I’d hesitated so much when Tripp suggested it.
“Why aren’t you jumping at this idea?” he’d asked. “Because your grandmother used to use it as an altar room?”
I blinked at him. “Isn’t that reason enough? It feels sort of sacrilegious.”
“Yes, it was her prayer space. You could also say it was a place for her to be alone. I think she would approve of you using it for the same reason.”
Couldn’t argue with that. “All right. I should have it blessed or smudged or whatever the witches do to a place before a new occupant takes residence.”
So I called Morgan and Briar, the most powerful Wiccans in Whispering Pines, and asked them to come over. If anyone could help me connect with Gran and get her blessing for using the loft, it was them. They agreed immediately, declaring it a fabulous idea, and arrived in Morgan’s little black Fiat with a basketful of witchy cleaning supplies.
First, they brought up brooms made of broomcorn, which was not corn at all, but a grass more commonly known as sorghum. I’d seen the brooms in Shoppe Mystique and stopped myself from asking about using them for transportation. River was there at the time and seconded that decision.
“The ladies Barlow do not find broom jokes entertaining.” His expression told me he’d learned that lesson the hard way.
Observing their unusual sweeping style, I noticed they didn’t use normal back-and-forth motions and the brooms never actually touched the ground. Instead, they held the bristles a few inches above the floor and spun in slow circles.
“What are you doing?” I asked, confused.
“We’re getting rid of any negative energy,” Briar explained.
“Turning widdershins, or in a counterclockwise circle,” Morgan added, “is considered to be the ‘wrong’ direction. This aggravates and stirs up the energy so we can sweep it away.”
Meeka thought this was great fun and followed the brooms until she was dizzy. Then the witches swept the invisible bad stuff toward a window and opened it just long enough to let the energy out. Then they smudged the space with a wood called palo santo that smelled a bit like pine, mint, and lemon.
With those tasks complete, Morgan dragged Gran’s favorite rocking chair to the middle of the circle burned into the loft’s wooden floor. Briar lit a lake-blue pillar candle, Gran’s favorite color, placed it on the floor in front of the chair, pointed at me and commanded, “Sit. Clear your mind and declare your intent for this space.”
Easy peasy. Declaring my intent, I mean. Clearing my mind was always a challenge.
“I want to use this loft as a space of my own. A place where I can shut out the noise of the day and relax.”
“What do you intend to do up here?” Morgan prodded gently.
“I’ll use it for quiet activities. Reading, sketching, meditating.”
The Barlow women arched skeptical eyebrows at the last item.
“I’ve been meditating,” I insisted. “I see the benefit to sitting quietly and breathing deeply. Not that I do it every day, but when I do, I feel calmer and more focused.”
Briar’s skepticism turned into a pleased smile. “That’s exactly the point of meditation. To get in touch with one’s self, relax, focus, and breathe away the stresses of the day. I think Lucy would approve of your intention.”
“It sounds like a fine use for her space,” Morgan agreed. A spot on her baby belly bulged out as though Baby Girl Barlow just gave me a high five.
I sat back in the rocking chair, feet flat on the floor, hands on my knees, and waited for something to happen. A bolt of lightning or a crash of thunder or a transparent Lucy O’Shea appearing in the corner. Nothing. “How do I know if she’s okay with this?”
Morgan looked at her mother and they stated in unison, “Ask her.”
Um, okay. How loudly did one need to speak to talk with a spirit? I cleared my throat. “Gran? I want to use this space to read, do crafts, and meditate. Are you okay with that?”
Seconds later, Meeka stood at attention. Her ears perked up. She tilted her head one way and then the other, her focus squarely on the candle. Then she leaped straight into the air and jumped back a foot. The poor girl couldn’t seem to decide if she wanted to bark, whine, or hide beneath the rocking chair.
I gasped as the air around us became charged, almost like an electric current was passing through the room. The candle’s flame flickered. No, it danced. A happy little dance, not wild and whipping about like it was about to go out. It could have been wind passing through wall slats or coming up the stairs from the garage below. It had been gusty outside all day. I hadn’t felt a breeze, though.
“It appears,” Briar stated with an amused smile, “that she agrees.”
I watched Morgan place two crystals on the windowsill. “What are those?”
“Blue lace agate,” she explained of the light-blue stone with white bands, “promotes a state of calmness and helps in opening lines of communications with spirits. I thought you might enjoy being more connected with Lucy.”
She had no idea. The second crystal was so clear it looked like glass. “Wait, I think I know that one. Clear quartz?”
“Very good, Jayne. Clear quartz will help remove any negative energy lingering in the corners.” Morgan laughed when I glanced suspiciously at the corner near the armoire. “It will also amplify the qualities of the agate.”
“You’re right-handed, correct?” Briar asked and I nodded. “Hold both crystals in your left hand when you meditate and envision a peaceful place.”
Feeling a little emotional over all they’d done for me, I touched my chest over my heart in thanks.
Once the Barlows left with their broom
s and smudges, I started setting up the loft as my own. My she loft. I left the armoire filled with Gran’s ritual supplies exactly as it was but took the items off of the altar table. Morgan and Briar had been instilling in me the concept of doing everything with intention. In this case, as I removed each item, I thanked it for serving my grandmother so well and placed it in the appropriate place with others of its kind in the armoire.
Once I’d cleared away all of the objects, I brought up a vacuum and took care of the actual dirt and dust Morgan and Briar had not swept away. Then I poked around through the near metric ton of furniture and boxes filled with miscellaneous household items. Before we started renovations, Tripp and I had emptied the house and brought the contents we wanted to keep up here. I found a beautiful Moroccan print area rug, in shades of blue that coordinated perfectly with the dark-brown wood floor and ceiling beams, and laid it down in front of the windows that looked out at the lake. That meant I covered up the circle on the floor, but Gran had given me the go-ahead, so I figured that was okay. If someone wanted to use the space for a ritual and needed the circle, the rug was easy enough to roll off to the side.
Next I dragged over a comfortable but worn beige velvet chaise lounge and a deep-brown wooden side table. The table had little chips in the base that probably came from the vacuum cleaner. Gran got a little aggressive with her housecleaning at times. Then I found a Tiffany-style floor lamp with blue, purple, and deep-pink dragonflies all around the shade. Other knickknacks made it into the space as well. Such as a silk flower arrangement I set on the altar table, a beautiful silver candle holder with glass hurricane, and an extra-deep bookcase that would be perfect for holding my craft supplies. It had taken me two days, but I was absolutely in love with my she loft.
“Wow, so this is what you’ve been doing. This place looks amazing.”
Too relaxed to move my body, I let my head flop to the side and found Rosalyn standing at the top of the stairs. I’d forbidden her and Tripp to come up here until I’d declared it complete.
“The only problem is, I can see the tops of the pine trees from here but not the lake.”
Rosalyn crossed the loft to the windows. “I think standing right here is the only way you’ll see the lake.”
“Which is probably why Gran put her altar table there.” I wiggled in the chaise, trying to motivate myself to get up. Not ready yet. “This will be fine. When I’m up here, I won’t be looking at the lake anyway. I’ll be busy doing other things. I need an electric kettle and a supply of tea and hot chocolate mix. Maybe a mini-fridge. Definitely some blankets. The space heater helps, but I’ll need either another one or a bigger one.”
I mentally added “more insulation in the she loft” below “freestanding fireplace in the she loft” on Tripp’s to-do list. With so few guests staying with us over the winter, the insulation might be an easily doable project. In between batches of hard cider and sanding baby furniture. River could help him.
Roz turned away from the windows. “Are you ready to go?”
The village shops were only open for limited hours on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays through the winter. Today was Thursday. At least I thought it was. I’d had an awful time keeping track of the days of the week lately.
I sighed and forced myself to sit upright. “I’m ready.”
“Oh, look.” Rosalyn knelt next to the side table by the chaise lounge and inspected the little brass statue there. “You brought Durga up here.”
Durga, the Hindu goddess of strength and justice, and protector of positivity and harmony, was one kick-ass chick. She rode a tiger, had eight arms, and carried a tool for fighting evil in each hand. Dad had given me the ten-inch-tall statuette for Christmas, declaring her perfect for a law enforcement officer.
“I figured she belonged up here with me.”
Meeka let out a little ruff from her pile of old pillows in the corner.
“Me and Meeka. This is the girls’ clubhouse after all. Did you know that a bunch of gods created her to slay a buffalo demon?”
“Meeka?”
I gave my sister a tight smile. “Funny. No, Durga.”
“Let’s go,” Rosalyn urged. “I can tell you’re about to start a lecture on Durga.”
“She’s very interesting.”
“I’m sure she is, but the grounding class starts soon.”
Jola Crane, head nurse at Unity, the village clinic, had decided that meditation sessions were important for mental health through the long dark winter. She guided us through meditations where we stood, sat, or lay on the floor in this amazingly peaceful room and visualized roots growing from any part of our body that touched the floor. This was to help us stay grounded when the darkness, either literal or mental, tried to overtake us. Rosalyn had really connected with this idea and even asked Jola if she could patch in for video sessions once she was back home in Madison.
I hoisted myself off the chaise before she physically dragged me down the stairs. Outside the garage, I immediately noticed Tripp’s big rusty red truck was gone. I gestured at the empty spot where he parked. “Where’d he go?”
“No clue. He mumbled he had something to take care of and left twenty minutes ago. He also said I should give you a kiss.”
She came at me with lips pooched out, and I held my hands in front of her face. “Kiss understood. Go ahead and warm up your car. I’ll grab my stuff.”
“My car?”
“You know how temperamental mine has been.”
Upstairs in the attic apartment, I put Meeka into her hunter-orange doggie parka and black snow booties, then grabbed my badge. The likelihood of anything illegal happening was remote, but I never went anywhere without my star. If I lived in a larger community, I’d carry my service weapon at all times as well. That was another check mark in the positive column for Whispering Pines during the off-season—no need to carry so many tools. Then I thought of Durga and felt like an unworthy wimp.
I stood with my hand on the front door doorknob and tried to figure out what I was forgetting. I’d felt like that from the moment I woke up this morning. It was probably this cabin fever/off my routine thing. Tripp had been the same way since he hadn’t had to get up before dawn in weeks to make breakfast for guests. Still, today it was more than forgetting the day of the week. What was it?
Shrugging off the feeling, I stepped outside and was halfway to the garage when something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. Meeka had seen it, too, if the growl coming from within the K-9’s snow gear was any indicator. I turned toward the lake and saw what looked to be a dog standing out in the middle of the thick ice. It looked big. And considering there were a good three hundred yards between us, that was saying something. I squinted. It looked like a Siberian Husky or a Malamute, but I’d never seen either of those kinds of dogs get that big.
“Jayne, let’s go.” Rosalyn peeked around the corner of the garage. “What are you looking at?”
“A wolf, I think.” I pointed and Meeka growled again as though daring it to come closer. “I thought I heard a howl as I fell asleep last night. Did you hear anything?”
Roz shook her head, looking ready to leap back into the car and sacrifice me if the animal took even one step toward us.
From this distance, the creature appeared to have darker fur on its upper half and lighter along its lower torso and legs, although the lower region might be caked with snow. As I studied him, I swear I saw golden-yellow eyes peering out from that dark face. There was no way I could make out eye color from so far away, though.
The wolf and I stood there staring at each other for so long Meeka head-butted my leg.
What was it doing here? I wasn’t afraid, but should I be? Despite her over-inflated sense of self, should I worry about Meeka’s safety? What about the villagers? Maybe I should put out an alert via the walkie talkie network.
I got another impatient headbutt from my Westie.
“Sorry.” I turned away but still felt those eyes staring at me.
“All right, let’s go meditate.”
Chapter 3
By the time we drove into the village, parked behind the sheriff’s station, and walked the quarter mile to Unity, thirty other villagers had gathered in the large activity room. Just walking into that room made me feel more grounded with all its natural elements and peaceful, neutral shades of brown from off white to copper to deep umber. An abundance of plants filled the corners and hung from the massive exposed ceiling beams. Stones of various shapes and sizes lay scattered across the room and begged to be stacked into Zen towers. Candles flickered on little ledges built into the walls. A three-foot-tall waterfall took up one corner and fed into an indoor stream that ran along an outside wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out at a scene that was a lush garden in the summer, a riot of color and falling leaves in the fall, and a winter wonderland now.
Rosalyn sighed, sounding both content and disappointed. “We’re late. Our spots are taken.”
She liked to sit near the waterfall. The sound of trickling water made me need to pee, so I didn’t mind.
“Is that why everyone’s looking at us? Because we’re late?” I whispered as we wound our way through a patchwork of yoga mats to the middle of the room. There, a mobile of feathers carved from balsa wood hung from the highest point of the cathedral ceiling. The mobile was so perfectly balanced the exhalations from people beneath it made it move. That was my preferred spot in the room.
After half an hour of imagining ourselves to be trees with roots that ran deep into the ground, Jola pronounced us all whole and centered. “At least until Sunday when we’ll do this again. Remember, unlike the other businesses, Unity is open every day from ten to two, and we just installed another light box. There are now five of them available should you need an infusion.”
A few of the class members leaped up and headed for the lightroom as Jola called out, “Remember, one of us is always available if an emergency arises.”
At the sound of Jola’s elevated voice, Meeka, who had been snoring softly between our yoga mats, woke up with a yawn and performed a perfect upward dog into downward dog salutation. She liked being around the villagers but opted to center and ground herself via naps.
Whispering Pines Mysteries Box Set 3 Page 51