by Holly Hood
I learned to know when to throw in the towel. I learned I am more important than any relationship I could ever have with a guy. And if that guy doesn’t see what he has, that’s his loss.
Sure, I’ll be sad, depressed even. However, those are all things I have lived with for a long time. You’re not the first person to disappoint me, Slade. And I have a feeling you won’t be the last.
When you decide to grow up come find me.
Hope
I tore the paper from my notebook and folded it until it was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Holding it to my chest, I concentrated on Slade.
***
Nona was at the stove making another dinner for us. Dad sat at the kitchen table. His hair was a mess. He was still in his pajamas. I wasn’t the only one with relationship issues, I thought to myself, snagging a crescent roll off the plate from the middle of the table.
“Did you get whatever was pissing you off out,” Dad asked dryly. He was in a bad mood ever since Lynette and him broke up.
“Yes. It was very therapeutic.” I chewed. “I feel a ton better.”
Nona spun around, a wooden spoon in her hands. She made it over to Dad. “Taste this, and please explain to me why you’re still in your pajamas.”
I smirked, watching Nona force feed Dad white sauce.
“Because some people have a hard time dealing with their love lives, Mother,” Dad griped. He scrubbed his chin with his fingers focusing on me again. “Why are you so chipper?”
I raised an innocent eyebrow. “It’s a beautiful day. Who wouldn’t be?”
Nona brought a hand to her hip. “I thought you and Slash broke it off? Maybe you’re not related to this man, because genetics would suggest you should be miserable and sobbing uncontrollably in your room right now.”
Nona and I started laughing. She winked turning and going back to the sauce on the stove.
I brushed the crumbs from my hands. “I don’t think there was ever much to break off. Things just didn’t work out, but I think I’m okay with that. When Slade comes to his senses and matures things will be different” I stood up.
Dad shook his head; he wasn’t used to such words spouting from my mouth.
“So what now, sweet pea,” Nona asked.
I shrugged. “I’ll hang around for a few more weeks and then head back to school before classes start.”
I headed back into my room. I felt more at peace. I shut the door ready to plop down on my bed and relax when something caught my eye. I hurried to the window. Sitting on the ledge was a large book.
I picked it up, the only way to hold it was with both hands. I dropped it on my bed and sat down.
“Wow,” I gushed, running my fingers over the reddish-brown cover that displayed a giant tree with no leaves. I slid my fingertips over the fine details.
Where did it come from? I wasn’t sure, but one look at it was all it took to see it was a book of spells. I cracked it open; on the first page was tiny barely legible writing.
To Francesca, with love Georges
I did not know who Francesca was or Georges. Whoever left this book on my windowsill knew. Flipping through the yellowed pages was remarkable, page after page housed spells of every kind scribbled in delicate black ink. Spells to banish nightmares, old love letters slipped between every couple pages. It was someone’s personal keepsake, and it now belonged to me. I stared at the worn love letters, each ending with—all my love, Georges.
If there was anything I needed to know it was all in this book. I turned several pages and found an old photograph. A man and woman, flipping the photograph over the date was scrawled on it.
“April 3rd, 1935,” I read; it was Francesca and Georges.
Francesca stared back at me with ethereal eyes of gloom. The photo was colorless, but I was sure they had to be brown. She was majestic. Pin curled hair that stopped at her sharp cheekbones, a hat upon her head. She wore an elegant dress that hugged her body, and a jacket with a big fur collar. Who was she? And why was I holding all her most personal possessions?
The man—who I was sure was Georges wore a dark suit with perfectly groomed hair sat upon his head. They both were sleek and refined, but the life that shown in the eyes of Georges was not there in Francesca. She was empty, a simple ghost of a young woman staring at the camera.
I wondered what kind of life she lived to look the way she did. Her life was linked with something awful, maybe she was a witch.
I opened one of the letters.
My dearest Francesca,
It’s been several months since our last moments together. You will never understand how angry I am with myself for not believing in you. For not trusting in what you were. You will never understand the amount of pain and anguish I feel inside. One day I hope to see you again. I hope for your forgiveness every night, I long for it.
All my love,
Georges
It seemed no matter what era we lived in we all battled with love and doing the right things. I returned the letter to the pages and shut the book. I slipped it to the back of my closet and dialed Hutch’s number.
“It was you. You sent me this book,” I said, the minute he answered the phone.
“That is a great guess, doll. How have you been?”
I smiled. “Better. That book, it seems like it carries a lot of baggage for those two people, who are they?"
“Francesca Cunningham was my great grandmother. Georges was the man she fell in love with.”
I settled into my pillows listening to Hutch.
“My Grandmother’s mother was a very powerful woman. Ever since the day she was born, she was capable of a lot. She grew up in an orphanage because she scared her parents so much they wanted nothing to do with her. And once she turned sixteen she was free to be on her own, and she met Georges. They loved each other very much until she revealed her secret.” Hutch explained.
“She was a witch.” It was sad to think the one true love of Francesca’s life was ripped away from her. I listened, eager to hear more.
“She was linked to the supernatural world. Remember, I don’t like to label our kind witches.” He paused. “Georges was from a rich family and back then the idea of anything unnatural was deemed dark and dangerous. They killed people who practiced magic of any kind. And they killed Francesca.”
My heart ached, “Why all the letters?”
“Georges didn’t know she was dead. The letters came for years and years. He wanted to fix things. He wanted to see the woman he loved so much again. My family never had the heart to tell Georges she was gone.” It was sad, the saddest story I heard ever.
“But you said it was your grandmother’s mother, so that means Francesca’s children?” This only made sense.
“Yes. My grandmother’s father was a banker in the town. He was greedy and evil and the one to blame for her death. Once her secret was out they destroyed her, and he wanted nothing to do with my grandmother and the gift she inherited from her mother.”
His family was part of a rich history. One I was sure I could dive deep into and learn a lot from. So interesting I wanted to.
“I don’t understand why you gave me the book. This is something to important to hand over to some stranger.” I couldn’t accept it.
“Francesca was a lot like you. She was sensitive and sweet. She just wanted to belong, but she was different, and she was trying to learn how to take control of who she was. Everything she ever learned she wrote in the book, and it has been with my family for a long time. I have learned everything I need to learn from it, and now it’s a gift to you.”
I raked a hand through my hair. It was a sweet gesture. Even so, I wasn’t sure if I was the one who should be holding on to something so dear to someone else, something so intimate. “You’re not going to let me refuse the gift are you?”
Hutch laughed. “Of course not, I couldn’t imagine Francesca wanting anyone else to have it but you, in fact, she told me so herself.”
I rais
ed an eyebrow confused by his statement. “She’s dead, how would you know that?”
“How many times do I have to say I am connected to the supernatural? She was my ancestor, of course I know what she would want, t dead talk too. They guide us through life.”
The idea the dead talked to anyone wasn’t new to me—Ezra proved that. But it was just too strange of a thought to believe someone that knew nothing about me wanted to gift me something.
“Okay, I’ll accept it. But no more gifts.” I looked at my desk where the long black feather sat.
Hutch sighed a defeated sigh, “on to a new subject.”
“What would that be?” I teased.
“When are you going to let me see you again?”
I smiled at the thought of seeing him once again. And he wanted to see me again.
“Maybe we could meet up after I sing tonight at the café.” I offered. I needed to get away from my house and have fun, not dwell on what once was, even if it wasn’t bothering me right now I knew it would.
“I’ll be there, see you soon, doll.”
Lovely
I carried the iced coffee I bought out to the outdoor veranda of the Shore café. It was night. The smooth fingers of the wind swirled around me. I stared at the water in the distance. Watching the waves strike the shore.
There was a certain calmness about the night, I could feel it on my skin. I was sure Hutch would insist it was my body becoming in tune with nature.
I brought my coffee to my lips staring over the brim at the sparkling stars, and the lonely seagulls flitting overhead.
I sat my cup on the table catching sight of Hutch approaching the boardwalk, his hands inside the dark hooded sweatshirt he wore. He smirked when I stood up to greet him.
“About time,” I said sitting back down. “I was beginning to think you stood me up.”
Hutch raked a hand through his messy hair. “I fell asleep.”
I frowned. “Is it too late for you to be out?”
He shook his head. “No, don’t think that. It’s always good to have a nap, doll.” He snagged my coffee taking a sip. “How’d your night pan out?”
I wasn’t sure if this annoyed me or turned me on that he was so…intrusive. I reminded myself we swapped a great deal of spit and that sharing a beverage wasn’t a big deal.
“Did you want a coffee? The café is still open for another fifteen minutes.” I offered, jerking my head toward the door.
Hutch shook his head. “Nope. Why don’t we take a walk down the boardwalk? We can take a stroll around the annual festival.”
This was the first time I heard of it. “I didn’t know there was a festival. I love festivals.” I smiled.
Hutch wrapped an arm around me. We weaved past the people walking the opposite direction of us on the boardwalk. “Maybe I can win you one of those silly stuffed animals.”
I nodded. I was a cheese ball. What could I say? And I was sure if I seen a festival when I first moved to Cherry, I might have felt a little happier about moving to such a place. Festivals reminded me of home, of fun, of all the good parts of being a kid back in Georgia.
“Have you taken a moment to look at the book,” Hutch asked.
The more we walked the closer we got to the blinking lights and cheesy music.
“Not really, I plan on it though.”
“You will be surprised the things she was capable of. It’s very enlightening.” Hutch pulled me closer. He was my bodyguard among the chaos of Cherry’s festivities. The closer we were the hotter it was. And I wasn’t the only one who it was bothering, Hutch drug his sweatshirt over his head, revealing a light-blue t-shirt underneath. He shot me a smile, and we hurried through to the first game we could find. He was willing to play, and I was ready to cheer him on.
The first game was the classic; knock the milk jugs over variety. Hutch fingered the baseball; he tipped his head in my direction. “When I knock these over what prize do you want?”
I laughed. “Oh your cocky, don’t be so certain you even will. They glue those things together I heard.” I crossed my arms and backed up, so he was free to fail.
He bit down on his bottom lip studying the stacked bottles. He pulled back and let go releasing the ball. The ball sailed through the air knocking every bottle over.
I clapped my hands, cheering for Hutch. The man running the game shuffled forward taking the remaining balls back from hutch. He tossed a thumb over his shoulder staring me down. I pointed at the giant brown bear, clapping my hands with glee that I was now the rightful owner of one.
“I have always wanted a giant stuffed animal,” I informed Hutch holding tight to the big bear. I couldn’t see where I was going; I was walking in hopes of not bumping into anyone. My chin fought against the fur of my new pal.
Hutch pried the bear from my grip slinging him over his shoulder.
“Glad you got what you wanted. And happy to see you smiling,” he said. We caught each other’s pleased gazes for a split second lost in the moment. However, that was forgotten quickly.
I almost slammed into Slade.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted, stopping before I stepped on his feet.
Slade looked between me and Hutch, Audrey and Erica came to stand on both sides of him, Audrey for once with nothing to say, she just stared me down in silence. “My sister asked me to come with her to the carnival.” He concentrated on me now. I avoided his stare down, jerking my head away.
Hutch extended a hand to Slade. “I’m Hutch.”
Slade accepted, catching me off guard with his coolness. “Slade, and this is Erica my sister and Audrey her friend.” He shot me another look as he established Audrey’s place in his life.
Hutch waved at the two of them. “Nice to meet you, how long has Cherry been having the festival by the boardwalk?” He made conversation; it was weird to see him cool as a cucumber around my old boyfriend. But he was and it was admirable.
I pulled at my earlobes, I could hear it clear as day. Slade’s voice, he was talking to me. I spun around. He was talking to Hutch, smiling a cool even smile.
“I got your letter. I guess I agree with the most of it. Just wish you would trust me. And what’s with this guy?” His word echoed through my mind, blotting out the passing people, even making the music and voices nothing but a jumbled mess.
“Focus, if you focus you can do the same thing too. This is the only way I can speak to you without Audrey overhearing anything.”
I shook my head again even harder, trying to dislodge his words; the sight of Audrey made me not care about anything Slade needed to say. I closed my eyes. Leave me alone, Slade. And when you’re ready to get rid of her we will have something to talk about.
I came back over to Hutch and Slade. I took Hutch by the arm, gaining his attention. “Let’s go on the Ferris wheel.”
Hutch nodded. He said good-bye to Slade and followed me far away from all of them.
“I don’t get it,” I said once we walked away from all of them. “He was talking to me while he was talking to you.”
Hutch paid for the tickets. “That wouldn’t be surprising considering,” he looked at the couple behind us keeping our secret just that—a secret.
“But why now, he's never done it before.” I followed Hutch to the line for the Ferris wheel. He handed over the stuffed bear to the attendant.
“I think you should ask yourself that.” Hutch ran a hand over the stubble on his chin.
“He said it was the only way he could speak to me without Audrey overhearing.” And it dawned on me. Everything was happening was on purpose, but not because Slade was trying to hurt me. He was trying to protect me—from Audrey.
I closed my eyes. I don’t need protection. I can take care of myself.
But, there was no response. Slade wasn’t answering back this time. Hutch helped me into one of the seats of the Ferris wheel. Everything was like a dream.
He locked the lap belt on his side securing us in place and after a f
ew minutes, the ride jerked to life, and off we went. I stared down at the twinkling lights and people underneath them.
I gasped, tears stinging my eyes. Audrey wrapped her hands around Slade’s neck. She dropped her head back. Slade kissed her neck, and then I saw it. The two of them sharing a kiss, one that Slade looked just as invested in, a kiss that made my stomach ache and anger course my veins.
I gripped the belt. Hutch grabbed my arm keeping me in place before I spilled over and plummeted to my death. His fingers stroked the stark white knuckles on my hand.
“He’s confused,” Hutch insisted.
I huffed. “His tongue doesn’t look confused.” Slade’s hand traveled down to Audrey’s blue jean shorts. He squeezed her backside.
“He’s indebted to them, Doll. I tried explaining this to you just the other day. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s trying to save face. He’s trying to please them, so he can be happy.” Hutch pulled my hand from the belt and placed it in his lap. He tugged me by the chin, so I would look at him.
I blinked back the tears ready to spill out. “It doesn’t matter, because I don’t care anymore.” I looked away.
Slade didn’t care about me. The proof was right in front of me. I felt small. I felt wounded, and nauseous.
Empathy for none
I stared at the ceiling. The many cracks stared right back. Cracks were flaws. We all were proud owners of flaws. Some of us were just better at showing them. Others tried to hide them.
I couldn’t forget the kiss I saw between Slade and Audrey. And even though I thought I was finished feeling bad about Slade’s action. The kiss opened up my old wound, and there I sat bleeding out.
A gnawing anger nipped at my conscience. I never wanted Audrey to win Slade over. I never imagined it would be so easy. Was I replaceable? Was I forgettable?
I curled up in a tight ball and let the tears escape. Warm trickles slid down my skin wetting my pillowcase. I groaned, wiping them away with my fingertips.