Wisp scowls. A glance at the menu tells Willow that he will win this round. There is nothing here for a tofu-loving, organic-vegetable eater. Meat loaf, mac and cheese, hamburgers and fries—these are all that are available.
Willow looks over at the other tables and notices that no one else has menus. They are simply ordering, as if they know the food by heart. And though it seems strange, perhaps they do. There probably is no other place to eat in Kismet. Over time, maybe they have memorized everything.
“May I take your order, fair lady?”
Willow looks up to see a pair of mismatched eyes meeting hers, a boy in a Wallace Diner shirt—the boy with a secret. Topher grins.
“You work here?” Willow asks before she can stop herself. If she is to get rid of this boy who seems to simmer with goodwill and who offers her mom false hope, Willow must remember not to give an inch, or, she can tell, this boy will take a mile.
“Sometimes,” Topher says. “My cousin owns the place, so I get called in if they need help. Just for an hour or two, though. I’m too young to get paid, but I can eat whatever I want.”
Willow’s mom eyes him. “I tried to find you after you left. I’d like to talk to your mom. Can you give me her number?”
“She doesn’t have a phone,” Topher says.
“No cell phone?” Willow’s mom asks, her eyes screwed up, puzzled.
In spite of herself, Willow too is curious. She has never heard of a doctor without one.
“No one in Kismet has a cell phone,” Topher says, shrugging.
Willow looks at him in shock. “No one?”
Topher shakes his head.
“Why not?” Willow asks. Most of her friends have cell phones, and she’s never heard of an adult not having one.
“Never needed one,” Topher says.
“So you just have landlines?” Willow asks, mulling over this odd fact.
“Not even those, really,” Topher says. “The only one in town is at Cora’s B&B.”
“That’s kind of quaint,” Willow’s mother says. “I guess in a town this small, you don’t need them much, right?”
“But what if you have a problem?” Willow asks, still stumped by this strangeness. “What if you’re stuck somewhere and need help?”
“Someone always finds you,” Topher says with confidence. “Layla and James found you, didn’t they?”
Willow isn’t sure how to respond to this. While it’s true that they were found, it is also possible that they wouldn’t have been. And then what would have happened? Willow shivers. She doesn’t want to ever think again about the car tilting on the bridge that night and the rushing waters below them.
Topher turns to Willow’s mother. “Not to worry. My mom is usually free at the hospital by lunch, after she’s done rounds. You’ll find her there tomorrow if you want.”
Willow’s mom nods her thanks, and Willow is once again wishing for a sudden rise in temperature, a horrific spurt to ninety degrees, so all this whiteness would wash clean away and Wisp could run from needles and health shakes and pills.
“How old are you?” Wisp asks. “Are you old enough to go to war and get shot?”
Willow blushes.
DuChard Unspoken Family Rule #6: If you are sick, you can ask anyone anything you want.
Wisp takes full advantage of this rule.
Topher laughs. “I know I’m tall for my age, Wisp. But I’m only twelve. And even though I’ll be thirteen in a few days, I don’t think a war is in my immediate future. Hey,” he adds, “if you’re still in town on my birthday, you could celebrate with me.”
“Can I, Mom?” Wisp cries.
“We won’t be here, Wisp. We’ve got to get you home,” Mom says. Then she turns to Topher. “Do you have any soup? Maybe vegetable soup?”
Their mom is nothing if not persistent.
“We have chili,” Topher says. “And really great nachos. And Mrs. Wallace makes the best hamburgers, gooey with cheese.”
Their mom sighs.
“I want an Old Woman Wallace hamburger,” Wisp says, using Cora’s name for the owner of the café, and then sitting back and crossing his arms, his lips pressed tight, a small act of defiance he hasn’t attempted in months.
Their mom ignores him.
“Don’t call her Old Woman Wallace if she’s around and can hear you,” Topher says, raising an eyebrow and nodding toward the back of the restaurant. “And believe me, she knows and hears everything going on in this place!”
In the window of the kitchen, Willow sees a woman moving around. She is not young, but her eyes seem needle sharp. And her arms look weight-lifter strong.
“Order!” Old Woman Wallace barks. Her voice is deep and gruff, almost angry.
“Will she spit in my drink?” Wisp asks, his eyes wide as he watches Mrs. Wallace command her kitchen. “Will she put poison in my food?”
“Don’t be stupid, Wisp,” Willow says. “She can’t hear you from way over there. There’s no way she would know what you just called her.”
She gives Topher her best withering glance, but Topher leans over the booth until his face is close to Willow’s.
“Actually, she might,” he says softly.
Willow rolls her eyes. “How? Or is this another secret of yours?”
“Nope,” Topher says, and his voice is sad. “Same one.”
“Well, what is it?” Willow challenges him.
“You have to be part of the town to know, and I really hope you don’t stay and find out,” Topher whispers. “I want you to go home.”
Willow leans away from him. Of course she’s going home—as soon as possible! Willow wants to get back to her dad and her friends, and her mom certainly wants to get back to Wisp’s doctors. Still, this boy is almost rude in his desire to have her leave.
“You don’t need to worry,” Willow finally snaps at him. “We’re going as soon as the snow clears. We wouldn’t want to live in this old town anyway.”
“Good,” Topher says. Then he stands back up and lets out a sigh of what seems to be relief.
Willow is baffled. Why does he seem so determined to get them out of town? Does he not like them? He didn’t have to come over to play a game with them this morning. She certainly didn’t ask him over.
But he’s gazing at her with kind eyes, not spiteful ones. Willow stares back at him, truly puzzled and trying to pretend she doesn’t feel that same strange fluttery feeling deep in her stomach she felt earlier when he looked at her. And though she is struggling not to, she has to admit she is a little curious now about this secret Topher keeps hinting at—the reason his father isn’t able to visit, the way Old Woman Wallace knows everything that goes on in the restaurant. Could the secret be something really worth knowing? Or is he just playing with them? And why do they have to be part of the town to know it? The whole thing sounds like a joke to Willow.
Their mother closes the plastic menu with a sharp slap, and Willow is brought back to reality. “Fine. There doesn’t seem to be much choice here. Order what you want. But, Wisp, you are back on a healthy diet as soon as we leave here tomorrow.”
Topher straightens and goes behind their mom. He grins and gives Wisp a V sign with his fingers.
Wisp looks at Willow. “Peace?”
“Victory,” Willow whispers in his ear, smiling just a bit. It is kind of funny—even if this boy is annoying.
Wisp turns his head, hiding his grin from their mom.
The plates come to their table in minutes, steaming hot and dripping with oil and cheese. Willow stares in surprise as Topher puts the plates down.
“Wow, that was quick,” Willow’s mom says.
That is exactly what Willow was thinking.
Topher shrugs. “Yeah, some people say Mrs. Wallace is a mind reader, she cooks orders so fast.”
“Well, enjoy,” he says, and then he’s off to help other customers.
Willow watches him go, and then the smell of the food hits her. Her mouth waters. She turns back to her plate and digs in. Both she and Wisp gobble up most of their dinner. Surprisingly, their mom, after she has poked her BLT with a fork, doesn’t leave even one bite on her plate either.
Layla arrives and pulls a chair up to their booth. “Hey, y’all. I see you’re getting along okay.”
She has on a large furry coat that steams with melting snow. Her blond hair is piled high and her sparkly earrings catch the light of the diner.
“We’re fine,” Mom says. “And we really can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. Getting us out of that car, driving us to Cora’s.”
Layla laughs. “It was nothing, honey. Glad to do it. Me and James are just taking a break. The snow’s quit for an hour, so we need to eat fast and get what we can cleared out.”
“You must be exhausted,” Mom says.
“Oh no, honey,” Layla says. “Me and James are always prepared. Why, we can go whole hog on just forty winks. How’s your writing coming, sweetie?” Her eyes rest on Willow.
“Thanks for getting me the journal,” Willow says.
Layla grins. “Well, baby, if you write about Kismet, make sure I’m a star in your story.”
Willow’s stories are not star-studded. They are more grease and grime.
“Maybe someday you’ll be famous like that Harry Potter writer,” Layla says, winking at Willow. “Someone told me she’s richer than the queen of England. Isn’t that the dream?”
Willow shrugs. Lately her only dream is of her brother recovering and her parents getting back together. Any other kind of future doesn’t really seem to matter.
Layla turns to Wisp. “Heard you were the hero of the match today.”
“I won Life,” Wisp says.
Layla laughs. “Of course you did.”
Willow is about to ask Layla who told her about Wisp and the game and how she knew he won, but then Layla looks up and Willow sees that James is in the doorway, an overstuffed paper bag in his hand.
“Gotta run,” Layla says. “See y’all real soon.”
And she is gone before a word has left Willow’s mouth.
* * *
The door opens a minute later with a whoosh of wind, and the colonel steps jauntily into the diner. He is wearing a grin from ear to ear and handing out cigars to some of the men in the diner.
“Colonel Stanley!” Wisp cries. “Did you find dead people buried under all the snow? Were they white and slimy?”
The colonel walks toward them, laughing. “Master Wisp,” he says, “I heard you had a good day.”
“I did, sir,” Wisp says, and he salutes the colonel. “I played Life with the Dawson boys, and I won.”
“Ah, now, then,” the colonel says, grinning. “I knew you would soldier on well.”
“Are you celebrating something?” Willow’s mom asks.
“Oh, just a little bit now, ma’am,” the colonel says, “but later tonight, there’s a big celebration on the way.”
Just then, Old Woman Wallace comes up to their table, a gift wrapped in light blue tissue paper in her hand. Wisp shrinks from her. But when she speaks, her voice is soft and soothing, not like the biting, angry dog she appeared to be earlier, in the kitchen.
Mrs. Wallace rubs her right hand on her apron and then lays the same hand on the colonel’s snow-wet arm and hands him the package.
“For her,” she says to the colonel. “Congratulations.”
The colonel nods. “Much appreciated.”
“Give her my love,” Mrs. Wallace says.
The colonel nods again.
Something nice is obviously happening. Willow hopes the colonel will fill them in. But instead, he simply salutes the three of them. “Well, I must go check on her now. It will be soon.”
He doesn’t volunteer any more information, and Willow and her mother are too polite to pry.
Off he marches, leaving the bell on the diner door jangling in his wake.
* * *
Willow sleeps through the night and wakes to a day that is swollen with spitting snow, as if God is squeezing out the last of the storm he has sent their way.
At breakfast, Cora is bustling about, dishing out pancakes and bacon and humming a tune. Wisp is wild with excitement over getting to eat these usually forbidden foods. He digs in without a word, worried, Willow is sure, that their mom will stop him before he gets a bite or the illness diminishes his appetite.
But their mom says nothing. She is looking at Cora.
“You seem awfully happy, Cora,” Mom says.
The old lady smiles widely. “Yes, I am. Bernadette D’Anjou was rushed to the hospital around midnight last night. She was expecting, but the baby wasn’t due for weeks. When she went into labor, it was touch and go for several hours. But around nine this morning, she was successfully delivered of a healthy baby boy. The whole town is just delighted.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mom says. “I’m so glad everything went well.”
Cora nods. “Oh, it did. It did. Just as expected. I can’t wait to see that little boy.”
“Is she still in the hospital?” Mom asks. “Would you like to go with me to see her and the baby? I was going there after breakfast anyway. I’d be happy to help you navigate the snow. With all the slippery conditions, it’s a tough walk.”
Cora shakes her head, her beaded bracelets clanking a tune. “No need. I’ll go when the snow clears. The colonel is there now with her anyway.”
“The colonel?” Willow asks before she can stop herself.
“Yes. Bernadette is his granddaughter,” Cora tells them.
Willow blinks. Her eyes meet her mom’s. They are both clearly remembering the cigars and the blue-wrapped present from Old Woman Wallace, the colonel’s happiness and his words of a celebration to come. It is as if the colonel and Mrs. Wallace knew his granddaughter would have a baby this morning. But Cora said Bernadette didn’t go into labor until midnight—after the colonel left the diner—and that the child wasn’t due for weeks. So how is that possible?
Willow feels a strange sense of unease creep up her back and a tingle run down her spine. She thinks of all the odd things she’s seen since arriving in Kismet—Layla and James being on that bridge seconds after the car crash; Cora knowing to put an extra bed and the bucket for Wisp in their room; Cora giving Willow grapefruit juice before Willow said she wanted it; Cora knowing Topher was at the door before he’d knocked; Topher mentioning a secret. And Willow knows in that instant that this little town of Kismet is not what it seems—that something is going on here that is not normal.
Willow’s mom heads out into the hallway and puts on her coat.
But Willow doesn’t want to be left alone in this town where, she is certain, something is not right. Willow can smell the peculiarity of Kismet, like smoke smoldering in a hidden corner, a fire about to ignite. Secrets sizzle here.
She follows her mom to the door. “Are you going to the hospital now? You aren’t going to leave us by ourselves here again, are you?”
But her mom nods. “I won’t be long. Keep an eye on Wisp for me.”
“Mom?” Willow pleads. “Can’t we figure out some way to get home today? This town is weird.”
Her mom looks at Willow and sighs. “I agree. There’s something strange going on here. Look. They can’t hold people back from traveling forever. I’m sure they’ll lift the state of emergency in a few hours. And then, yes, I’ll find someone to drive us to a car rental place, even if it is miles from here. I want to get home too.”
For
a moment, Willow feels a connection with her mom that she has not felt in months, a shared concern other than Wisp. And she remembers suddenly how it was when her mom actually worried about her too. She remembers when her mom would tuck her in at night and how her hand would graze Willow’s forehead to wake her in the morning; how her mother packed lunches with special messages just for her; how her mother spent time with just her, talking and giggling.
But then her mom puts her hand on the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Mom…,” Willow tries again.
Her mom pauses and looks back, and for a second Willow thinks she will stay. But then she turns around again and heads out the door, hurrying through the snow, leaving Willow behind. Willow slowly closes the door on the cold and bites back tears, feeling as if she has just lost a limb. She wants to go home now!
She is about to head back to Wisp in the dining room when the doorbell rings. Willow’s heart lifts. Maybe her mom has changed her mind and wants to pack up their things and get out of this creepy little town right away.
But when she opens the door, Topher is standing where her mom should be, his arms full of poles, boots, and skis. Beside him, his two brothers, in coats and mittens and boots, carry even more equipment. “Hey, Willow. Get Wisp, and let’s go for a cross-country ski.”
“My brother isn’t allowed outside,” Willow says.
Topher looks her in the eye and Willow’s heart misses a beat.
“I bet Wisp will think differently,” Topher says. “Besides, as long as you’re stuck here, you should do some things.” He is inside before Willow can stop him. “Wisp!” he calls. “Come on. We’re cross-country skiing up Bain’s Hill.”
Wisp comes running in his stocking feet. “Okay!”
“You can’t go,” Willow says, following Topher, exasperation building inside her over this boy who keeps pushing his way into their lives, forcing her to experience odd feelings she doesn’t want to feel, hinting at secrets but then refusing to tell her what they are.
The Root of Magic Page 5