“That was neat.”
I jumped when I heard the new voice, glancing around quickly until my eyes fell on Erika. She was standing on the spiral staircase in the center of the room, watching the three of us curiously.
“Erika,” I breathed, trying to calm my heart rate. “You surprised me.”
“She’s here?” Clove looked around nervously. “Where is she?”
“She’s on the stairwell.”
“They can’t see me?” Erika looked disappointed.
“No,” I replied. “In a few minutes, though, they should be able to hear you.”
“Really? Why?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “It’s just that, when a ghost is around and I’m talking to it, they can start to hear it after awhile. I think it’s our family bond, but I can’t be sure.”
“Are they your sisters?” Erika asked.
“No,” I shook my head. “They’re my cousins.”
“That’s nice,” Erika said. “I wish I had cousins.”
“Did you have sisters?” I asked.
“I have two brothers,” Erika brightened considerably. “I haven’t seen them in a long time, though.”
“Were they on the boat with you?”
“I’m not sure,” Erika said. “I don’t know where they went. I can’t remember the last time I saw them.”
“I can hear her,” Clove said suddenly.
“Me, too,” Thistle nodded.
“See,” I smiled warmly at Erika. “I told you they would be able to hear you.”
“But they can only hear me when you’re around?”
“Actually, now that they’ve heard you, they should be able to hear you again even when I’m not with them,” I replied.
“Don’t tell her that,” Clove hissed.
I ignored her. “Why did you come back out here?” I asked Erika.
“I was following you.”
“Is this where you were? The place you were alone for so long?”
“Yes,” Erika nodded. “It’s not as scary now. Especially since I saw the other children.”
I felt my heart go cold. “What other children?”
“The ones on the boat?”
“What boat?” Thistle asked sharply.
“The one outside,” Erika replied simply.
Thistle moved to a ground floor window, one that faced the lake, and glanced out. “I don’t see a boat out there.”
“It’s not out there now,” Erika said. “It was out there awhile ago, though.”
“Where did it go?” Thistle asked.
“It floated away,” Erika replied.
I glanced at Thistle worriedly. “You just saw this boat?”
“Yes,” Erika said.
“Just now – or in the time since I saw you out at the inn?”
Erika nodded, her eyes widening. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I shook my head quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, honey. We’re just wondering where the boat went.”
“It’s going away,” Erika said. “It will be back, though.”
“It will?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know that?”
“The other little girl told me.”
“What other little girl?” I was starting to get exasperated. The wisdom of a child – even a dead child – is hard to focus on a specific task.
“The one that talked to me.”
“She saw you?”
“Yes.”
“On the boat?”
“Yes.”
“And where is she now?”
“She’s still on the boat,” Erika said testily. “I told you that.”
Thistle put her hand on my arm to still me. “She doesn’t understand,” she said in a low tone. “You can’t make her understand. Getting frustrated with her isn’t going to help.”
“Since when are you the voice of reason?”
“It happens. Rarely, but it happens.”
Thistle turned back to the staircase, fixing her gaze on the area I had been staring at while conversing with Erika. She couldn’t see Erika, but she wanted to speak directly to her. “Erika, we need you to try and find the boat again.”
“Why?”
“Because we want to know where it went,” Thistle said calmly. “We want to see if we can find those children.”
“Okay,” Erika shrugged and then popped out of view.
“And when you find out, come and find us at the inn and tell us,” Thistle continued, unaware that Erika had disappeared. “Can you do that?”
“She’s gone,” I informed Thistle.
“Do you think she understands?”
“No,” I shook my head ruefully.
“Then we’re going to have to try and figure this out ourselves,” Thistle said grimly. “Where do we start?”
That was a really good question.
Fourteen
We headed back to town a few minutes later. I wasn’t expecting Erika to pop back in and magically solve this quandary for us any time soon. That would be way too easy – and that’s not how the Winchester witches roll.
Thistle parked in front of Hypnotic, killing the engine of her car, and then turning to me in the passenger seat. “Do you think there is really a boat out there with little kids on it?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “The problem is, there are a lot of options here.”
“What options?” Clove asked curiously from the backseat.
“Well, there could be a boat out there with kids on it,” I said. “It could also be a memory from when she was on the boat and she’s getting it confused with the present day.”
“Or,” Thistle added. “Maybe there’s a ghost ship out there with a bunch of dead little kids on it and that’s what she saw.”
Huh, I hadn’t thought of that one.
“She said one of the kids saw her and talked to her,” Clove said. “If they were all ghosts, wouldn’t they all be able to see each other.”
She had a point.
“I don’t know what to think,” I admitted.
“Shouldn’t we tell someone?” Clove asked.
And that was the question that was truly gnawing at me.
“What are we going to say? And who are we going to call? Thistle asked.
“What about Chief Terry?”
“And what do we tell him?” Thistle pressed again. “Bay saw a little black ghost and she told us that there’s a boat full of kids out on Lake Michigan and they may or may not be in trouble? He’ll lock us in a loony bin.”
“He knows that we’re witches,” Clove was insistent. “He might believe us.”
“And he might not,” Thistle replied.
“Then what about Landon? He knows,” Clove said stubbornly.
Yeah, what about Landon? “I’m going to talk to Landon tonight,” I said finally.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Thistle asked.
“No,” I admitted reluctantly. “I just know if I don’t tell him he’s going to freak out. I promised I wouldn’t lie to him anymore.”
“Omission isn’t technically a lie,” Thistle pointed out. Aunt Tillie taught us that when we were kids. It was one of few lessons she imparted us with that stuck.
“I bet Landon wouldn’t see it that way,” Clove said sagely.
“I’m going to tell him,” I said firmly. “We need him. I don’t know how to move on this without him.”
“Do you think he’ll be mad?” Clove asked worriedly.
“I don’t think he’ll be happy.”
“He’ll be fine,” Thistle scoffed. “Just wait until you’re in the middle of sex and then tell him. He can’t be mad them.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” I agreed.
“Really?” Thistle looked surprised.
“No.”
We climbed out of the car and moved toward Hypnotic. We had been so involved in our conversation, we hadn’t noticed the woman sitting on th
e bench just outside. It was Karen.
“Oh, hi,” Clove said awkwardly when she finally caught sight of her.
“Hi,” Karen greeted us warmly. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming back today. I decided to take a chance and wait for you here.”
“Have you been waiting long?” Clove asked. I could tell she was nervous.
“No,” Karen shook her head hurriedly. “I’ve only been here about twenty minutes. It’s a nice day. I enjoyed the wait.”
“Well, that’s good,” Clove said, reaching around Karen to unlock the door of Hypnotic.
Thistle and I followed the two of them into the store, exchanging wary glances. Karen was a minefield of trouble where Clove was concerned. It would be easy to hate her if she weren’t so nice.
“Oh, this is a beautiful store,” Karen said when we got inside. “Your father told me that it was nice, but I had no idea.”
“Thank you,” Clove said stiffly.
“Is everything here handmade?” Karen asked, walking up to Thistle’s candle display.
“Thistle made those,” I offered.
“They’re very cool,” Karen said, picking up one of the leftover skull candles Thistle had been hawking around Halloween.
“The trick is to use a softer wax,” Thistle said, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that was threatening to engulf the room. “It makes the candle easier to mold.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to make candles,” Karen said wistfully. “You should offer a class.”
Despite myself, I laughed out loud. Karen turned to me in surprise. “Thistle doesn’t have the patience to teach a class,” I choked out.
Clove joined in. “She’d kill the first person that asked her a dumb question.”
Thistle looked like she was going to argue but decided against it at the last second. Instead, she just shrugged. “They’re right. I don’t have the patience for anything like that.”
“Where did you learn to do it?”
Thistle cocked her head to the side, considering. “All of our moms and aunts are pretty crafty,” she said. “They can all do certain things. My mom can sew and paint. They’re all great cooks. Aunt Tillie can make stained glass, although she hasn’t done it in years. And Marnie, well, Marnie can make some really awesome candles.”
“And Marnie is your mother?” Karen turned to Clove. She didn’t look uncomfortable, merely curious.
“Yes,” Clove said. “She’s definitely my mother. There were times I wanted a DNA test as a child, but that would have been a waste of money.”
“What?” Karen looked confused.
“They look like clones,” I supplied.
“Oh,” Karen nodded, understanding washing over her face.
“We all look like our moms unfortunately,” Thistle said.
“Your mom has purple hair?” Karen asked, covering her mouth the instant she realized how rude the question was.
“Ronald McDonald red,” I replied before Thistle could. “Thistle changes it up every few months. It’s mostly just to irritate her mother.”
“That is a vicious lie,” Thistle countered. “And it’s neither here nor there. I like the purple.”
“I miss the blue.”
“I kind of miss the blue, too,” admitted Thistle. “Maybe I’ll revisit it this summer.”
“I can’t wait.”
Karen watched us interact for a second and then smiled. “You’re all very close.”
“We were raised together,” Clove explained. “We all lived in the same house as kids. I guess we’re more like sisters than cousins.”
“You fight like sisters,” Karen said. “I like it.”
“You have sisters?” Clove asked.
“I do.”
“I don’t really know anything about you,” Clove admitted. “You’re going to be my stepmother, I guess I probably should.”
“I was hoping we could get to know each other a little better today,” Karen said. “That’s why I was here. I was going to invite you to lunch.”
“We were going to order lunch in here,” Clove said. “We took off for more than an hour to . . . run an errand,” she glanced at me guiltily. “We really shouldn’t leave again.”
Karen’s face fell. “Oh, well maybe some other time.”
“Or you could eat here with us,” I offered.
“Really?” Karen’s face brightened.
“Sure,” Thistle said. “What do you like? We were just going to order some sandwiches and fries from the deli.”
“That sounds good,” Karen said.
Twenty minutes later, we were all sitting around the little den area in the store conversing – and eating. Karen really was pleasant – and she’d led an interesting life.
“You were really in the Peace Corps?” Thistle was impressed.
“Yes,” Karen said. “I spent some time in Africa. I would have liked to stay longer, but I had to come back home because my mother was sick.”
“That’s terrible,” Clove said.
“She got better,” Karen said. “But, I had to take care of her for awhile. So, when I was back, I enrolled in college and decided to focus on interior design.”
“Any reason why?” I asked.
“I don’t know, I just always liked decorating,” Karen admitted. “I’m kind of a hoarder – or I have hoarding tendencies. I love to pick out knick-knacks and paintings. So, I figured the best thing for me to do was to pick them out for other people. That way, I get to shop and I don’t have a house overflowing with too many things.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Thistle said.
“What made you guys decide to open the store?” Karen said.
Clove shrugged. “It just seemed like a natural progression. We knew how to do a lot of things and we thought the best thing to do, especially in this town, was to play to our strengths.”
“You never thought of leaving Hemlock Cove?” Karen asked.
“No,” Thistle said. “I mean, sure, when we were kids, we all dreamed of running away to a big city, one where Aunt Tillie couldn’t find us. Bay went to Detroit for a couple of years. This is just home, though. We don’t want to leave.”
“It’s a beautiful area.”
“I think we’re suited for wide open spaces,” I said. “I felt smothered down state.”
“It is definitely easier to breathe here,” Karen laughed. “There’s no smog.”
“There’s also no good shopping,” Clove lamented. “When we want to actually shop, we have to drive to Traverse City.”
“That’s only an hour away,” Karen said. “That’s not really so bad. And you have so much to love here that going to Traverse City once in awhile probably isn’t a big hardship.”
“No,” Clove agreed.
“So, are you dating anyone?” Karen asked, her eyes twinkling.
Clove flushed. “I’m not, but Bay and Thistle both have boyfriends.”
“Why don’t you?” Karen pressed.
“I just haven’t found the right guy yet,” Clove said. “I’m not in a hurry. I’m only twenty-five.”
“You still have plenty of time,” Karen agreed.
“So, how did you end up in Traverse City?” Clove asked curiously, turning the conversation back on Karen.
“I went to college at Western Michigan University,” Karen said. “When I decided to set up shop, I did so down in the Grand Rapids area first. I was doing okay, but I just felt a little restless. I went to a seminar – one of those networking deals – and it was held at that big resort in Traverse City. I just fell in love with the area. About six months later, I just decided to move here. I’ve been here almost ten years now.”
“And you’ve never been married?” Thistle asked.
“No,” Karen shook her head. “This will be the first time.”
“Well, that’s convenient, I guess,” Thistle laughed – although it sounded hollow.
After a few more minutes, Karen finished up her lunch and s
tood. She impulsively reached for Clove, pulling her forward into a friendly hug. Clove looked uncomfortable with the gesture.
“I’m so glad we had this time together,” Karen said. “I’m looking forward to really getting to know you. We’re going to be family, after all.”
“Yeah,” Clove said. “I had fun.”
Once Karen was gone, Clove turned to Thistle and me. “What do you think? She’s nice, right?”
“She seems nice,” I said cautiously.
“Her story is a little too . . . neat,” Thistle said. Sometimes I think she just wants to be contrary for the sake of being contrary.
“What do you mean?” Clove asked.
“I don’t know, it was like it was designed to draw us in, to weave a spell over us, so we wouldn’t question it,” Thistle said. “There was nothing really messy about it and real life is messy.”
“So, you’re saying that, because nothing bad really happened to her – which we don’t actually know for a fact – that you think something is wrong with her?” Clove asked incredulously. “Maybe she just didn’t tell us anything really private. Did you ever consider that?”
“I didn’t say there was something wrong with her, just that I wasn’t sure if I trusted her,” Thistle said.
Clove turned to me. “Do you agree with her?”
“I’m not sure,” I hedged.
“What do you think is wrong with her?”
“Let’s just say I think she’s trying a little too hard,” I said finally. “It doesn’t seem natural.”
“Or, maybe, that’s just how people that don’t share our gene pool are,” Clove huffed. “Why is it, the minute anyone shows any interest in me, whether it be Karen or Sam, you two immediately think there’s something wrong with them?”
“We’re just trying to protect you,” Thistle said in a low voice.
“Well, maybe I don’t need your protection,” Clove said. “Maybe I’m sick of you guys always acting like you’re right and I’m wrong.”
“No one said that,” I protested.
4 Witching On A Star Page 10