A Witch's Curse

by Paul Martin

  Carolyn drained the last drops from her mug and followed Maggie to the door to help bring in the assorted buckets and boxes. “The cemetery doesn’t bother me, Mags, and once I’m finished decorating and remodeling, this will be a very nice place to live, thank you very much. How many rooms? Hmm, there are twenty rooms, counting the foyer, which is certainly big enough to count as two.”

  She turned and walked toward a pair of closed doors to the left of the kitchen. “You’ve already been in the kitchen and living room, which, in the olden days, I believe they referred to as the parlor. Over here is the formal dining room,” she said, pulling the pocket doors apart.

  “Formal indeed. You can sit an army at that table. Would you look at that chandelier? That has to be crystal.”

  Carolyn crossed the living room and foyer and said, with a playful, sophisticated air, “Oh, but of course. Nothing but the best for us rich folk.” Then, with a laugh, she added, “The library is over here. I’m told Grandmother moved her bedroom down here when she wasn’t able to climb the stairs anymore.”

  Sliding the doors open, her face brightened when she spotted Chester lying on the hospital bed. “There you are. I wondered where you went, buddy. How did you get in here? Did I lock you in here all night?” Chester paused from licking his paws to grace her with a momentary glance before continuing his grooming.

  “When did the local library open this branch?” Maggie said, gawking at the floor to ceiling shelves filled with books.

  “Come on, I want to show you the master bedroom.” Carolyn led the way up the curved staircase and flipped on the hall light at the top.

  Maggie paused and stared at the overhead light. “I thought this house was three-hundred years old? I didn’t realize this in the kitchen, but you’ve got electricity?”

  “Of course I do. And gas, heat, and even indoor plumbing, all the conveniences of a real home.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  Carolyn opened the door to the master bedroom and stood back to allow Maggie a good view.

  “Wow, a four-poster bed, complete with canopy! Are those velvet curtains? What fun you can have in here, and would you take a gander at the carvings on the armoire. Looks like all this furniture has been here since they built the house. The antiques in this museum must be worth a fortune.”

  “I imagine they are, but I won’t sell a single one of them.”

  “Why not? They don’t hold any memories for you.”

  “True. Just doesn’t seem right though to discard them like yesterday’s news. They’ve more right to be here than I do.”

  “You’re such a romantic.”

  * * * *

  Their day’s efforts proved very productive as well as extremely tiring. The first floor gleamed from top to bottom. To Carolyn’s great relief, they even managed to banish the harsh, lingering, hospital odor from the library. Lastly, they tackled the master bedroom so Carolyn could rest in a real bed and not on the sofa. Carolyn planned to clean the remaining rooms on the second and third floors in the evenings after work and on the weekends. She’d left Maggie alone to run the store by herself for too long already.

  Carolyn stood on the front porch, waving at her friend until the fog swallowed Maggie’s car. With one more deep breath of the brisk night air, she went back inside to lock all the doors and windows before going upstairs to lie down for a few hours. Understandably dismissing last night as a fluke, she didn’t necessarily assume she would fall asleep again tonight. Still, she needed rest, and should she sleep, and should her mystery man appear…

  In her bedroom, she found Chester curled in a tight ball on the rocking chair next to the bed, sleeping serenely. Undressed, Carolyn went into the bathroom to take a long, hot, soapy shower and tried unsuccessfully to release the sexual frustrations she had since waking. After toweling off, she put on a pair of fresh panties, an oversized t-shirt, and crawled into bed. Surrendering to her exhaustion, Carolyn fell into a deep slumber.

  Finding herself back on the garden path lined with the neatly trimmed hedges, she gazed into the dense fog, wondering if her anonymous lover would come to her again when powerful hands rested her on her shoulders. She shivered with an unrepressed desire as he pressed his hard erection into her backside. His rich, deep voice filled her with an overpowering craving to take him inside her.

  “You’ve come back to me, my dearest Caroline. I have waited so long for you to return to me,” he breathed in her ear.

  She wanted to protest that she wasn’t Caroline, except, the words wouldn't come out. For reasons she didn't understand, this man completely captivated her. Her body blossomed to life at his briefest touch, and she didn’t dare break the spell. Least of all now, when his powerful hands roamed down her sides and raised her t-shirt over her head. Carolyn lifted her arms and struggled for breath as the soft material of her tee slid enticingly over her stiffening nipples.

  She sagged against him as he reached around to cup her breasts, toying with her sensitive nubs, making them harder and more erect. A fierce yearning grew in her belly, a longing that wouldn’t quench easily. Her core heated to the melting point then spread between her legs. His kisses burned on her ears, neck, and shoulders. Carolyn trembled as his hand moved down to cover her lace panties and rub her mound; light, long strokes at first, then harder and faster, stoking the heat inside her.

  Pearls of moisture seeped through her soft inner lips from the intense emotions he ignited inside her. A decadent thrill coursed through her when he forcefully grabbed her panties and ripped them from her body. His fingers splayed her wet fold and ran his fingertips up and down, driving her to new heights of bliss.

  Carolyn’s eyes widened as he removed his fingers from her slick heat to place them in his mouth and lick her juices. “Mmm, you taste just as sweet as I remember.” Her heart pounded as his hand slid back down to her aching mound and slipped a finger inside her. She gasped as his thumb found her swollen clit, tracing gentle circles on her swelling bud.

  In her mind, Carolyn believed this to be only a dream, yet somehow, one that felt oh, so real and oh, so good. She didn’t want him to stop, ever, and urgently wished he would lay her down, plunge his cock into her, and pleasure her like no man before.

  A small voice in her mind nagged at her, wanting to know who this midnight caller was and why he only came to her in her dreams. Dreams she never had before coming to this house. Chester chose that moment to jump on her stomach, hissing at nothing. His fur stood straight up on his arched back.

  “Chester! You scared the crap out of me. What is wrong with you?” she yelled. Even though highly upset, Carolyn held and stroked him in an effort to calm him along with her racing heart. Chester finally quieted, yet continued staring toward the ceiling. Slowly, he turned his head as if following an invisible bubble floating out the room. Emitting a short meow, he jumped off the bed and padded from the room as if nothing had ever been wrong.

  “You just wait until the next time you're having a great dream and find out what happens to you, buster.”

  Carolyn checked the clock on her nightstand and determined she had slept for close to four hours. Doubting she would be able to get back to her dream, Carolyn reluctantly threw back the light blanket, discovering she was completely naked. Her tee lay crumpled on the floor next to the bed, and her torn panties were all the way across the room.

  “What the...? Did I strip in my sleep? Was I even asleep? Could the dream have not really been a dream and possibly be something else, or am I going crazy?”

  Carolyn shook her head and hoped she would soon be able to puzzle out what all this meant before she went insane.

  Dressed, she walked downstairs to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. Chester sat on the floor, batting an old, dried leaf, as if playing with a mouse. “Where did you find that?”

  Then she noticed the housewarming gift Maggie gave her the day before, sitting on the counter. The leaves, brown and withered, lay scattered on the counter top. “This isn’t po
ssible! Plants don’t die overnight, not when they're as healthy as this one was.”

  Grudgingly writing the dead plant off to a disease she wasn’t familiar with, Carolyn dropped the remains into the wastebasket and put on the coffee. No sooner had the machine finished brewing a fresh pot, she heard a light tapping on her front door.

  “Who could be up at this hour?”

  Hoping her midnight caller had come back to finish what he started earlier, Carolyn ran to the door. Instead of finding her dream man, she looked down at a stooped, white haired, old woman holding a covered plate.

  “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you, it’s just that I saw the light on and thought you might be up. I’m an early riser too. My name is Sarah Burns, and I live across the street. I baked this pie for you as a welcome to the neighborhood gift.”

  Carolyn took the still warm plate. “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Burns. I’ve just made some coffee, would you like to come in?”

  “Thank you, I would. You must be Ester’s granddaughter. I’m so pleased to finally meet you.”

  “Yes, I am. Are you sure that we haven’t met before? You look familiar to me, but your name doesn't ring any bells.”

  “Well, we were never formally introduced, but I do stop into your shop from time to time. You sell the best fruit in town and keep exactly the right herbs and spices I need. I made this from some apples I bought there.”

  “You are an early riser if you’ve had time to bake a pie already.”

  “Oh, I don’t sleep much, never did. Ester was the same way. Sometimes, we would talk all night and half the day.”

  “You and my Grandmother were friends?”

  “Your grandmother had many friends, my dear. She and I had been best friends for more years than I care to count. I do miss her so.”

  Carolyn poured them each a cup of coffee. “Milk? Sugar?”

  “No, thank you. I take mine black.”

  “Me too. I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you to eat, I only moved in yesterday and wasn’t planning on doing my grocery shopping till today.”

  “Why don’t we partake in a slice of the pie then?” Sarah said with a slightly wicked smile on her lips.

  “Pie this early in the morning?”

  “Why not? I find pie is best fresh from the oven. Don’t you?”

  A conspiratorial grin formed on Carolyn's mouth. “You’re right and the aroma is divine.”

  While Carolyn removed two plates and a tray from a cupboard, Sarah asked, “Do you mind if we sit next to the fire in the living room? My old bones need all the warmth they can get these days.”

  “Sit anywhere you want, Mrs. Burns. I laid the logs last night. I only need to light the kindling.”

  “Don’t bother, dearie. I can light the logs for you,” Sarah said, moving into the living room.

  Carolyn cut two large slices, put them on the tray with the coffee, and carried them into the living room, finding a fire roaring in the fireplace and Sarah seated comfortably, rubbing her outstretched fingers together.

  “How did you get the fire started so quickly? Lighting the kindling takes me forever.”

  Sarah smiled. “I’ll show you someday. When you’re ready.”

  What does she mean by ‘when you’re ready’? I'm old enough to play with matches. Setting the tray down, Carolyn sat on the sofa, facing Sarah. “You knew my Grandmother well?”

  “No one knew her better or longer.”

  “I never met her, I’m sorry to say. What was she like?”

  “She was a kind, gentle old soul. You would’ve liked her very much.”

  “I can’t understand why my mother told me she had died.”

  “Your mother,” Sarah said as if the words hurt her mouth on the way out.

  “You knew my mother?”

  “From the day she was born until the day she broke your grandmother’s heart. She was always so serious. Took everything to heart, she did.”

  Carolyn nodded. “Yep, that's Mom.”

  “They fought like dogs over a bone, those two did. Ester kept hoping and praying your mother would outgrow her willfulness, only she never did.”

  Carolyn took a bite of pie. “Mmm! This is the best tasting pie I’ve ever had.”

  “I’ve made a lot of pies in my time, sweetie, so I’ve had lots of practice.”

  “Practice makes perfect and this one is definitely perfect.”

  “Thank you, my dear.”

  “What was the final argument between them about? I assume there was one?”

  “Oh, yes. And what a doozie. Your mother was dating a boy who was all wrong for her. Anyone with half a brain recognized he was no good, anyone but your mother. She loved him,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing Ester said would dissuade her. One day, your mother up and ran away. Eloped with that sorry excuse for a man.”

  “My father, you mean?” Can’t anyone say anything good about my father? Is he really the jerk everyone says?

  “Yes. Ester tried to patch things up with your mother after he abandoned you, but your mother kept sending all of Ester's letters back, unopened. Your mother never would admit when she made a mistake.”

  Carolyn nodded in agreement, as she recalled the fights they'd had over the years. At times, Carolyn had felt as if she was the mother, disciplining a stubborn child.

  “Ester did tell me she received a phone call from your mother. She informed Ester the two of you were fine alone and wanted nothing to do with her. Ester’s heart broke when your mother died in that car accident, last year, and she cried for days and days. Her health never was the same afterward.”

  Not wanting to relive the horrible day her mother died, Carolyn changed the subject. “Why didn’t Grandmother try to contact me then?”

  “I’m not sure why. She wouldn’t tell me. She did, however, make me spy on you, in a way.”

  When Carolyn looked puzzled, Sarah continued. “I told her about your quaint, little shop. Ester had become bedridden by that time, so each week, she would give me lists of items to buy and tell her every detail about you, no matter how small, when I returned. She did say you were much better off with the herbal store than you were when you worked at that dreadful flower shop.”

  She's right. I am. I hated the flower shop. I never could understand why someone would kill a living, breathing flower so some silly girl can look at a pretty bouquet for a few days. Why not give a live plant instead, something she would be able to enjoy a lot longer than dead flowers?

  “I wish I had met her. More coffee?”

  “Yes, a splash more please, thank you.”

  Carolyn refilled both cups and looked at the portrait over the fireplace. “What can you tell me about them?”

  Following Carolyn’s gaze, Sarah said, “Them? Don't you know anything about your family? No, I suppose you wouldn't. She's your great, great, great aunt Caroline Wexford, and her husband, Caleb Harrison.”

  “Harrison? As in Harrisonville’s Harrison’s?”

  “Yes. Your great, great, great uncle was the grandson of this town’s founding father, Abraham Harrison. I hadn't thought about the resemblance before, but you are the spitting image of your aunt.”

  “Surely, you didn’t know her?”

  “I’m old, child, but not old. Hard to tell now, what with the portrait so dirty, but I viewed the painting so many times when you were still able to make out their faces clearly.”

  His name’s Caleb and he’s my Uncle? Now I understand why he called me Caroline, not Carolyn, as I first thought. He thinks I’m her, his dead wife. “They’re a very handsome couple. “What’s their story?”

  “Well, they had been married about a year when, one morning, she caught him with the maid in the study. She found them naked on the window bench.” Sarah’s voice turned sarcastic. “Naturally, he denied anything happened between them and that the maid set him up. Of course, Caroline didn’t believe him.”

  “I can't say as if I blame her. So what did Aunt Caro
line do?”

  “Caroline threw the maid out the front door exactly as she found her, without a stitch of clothes on. According to the story, she made a pot of tea so she and Caleb could sit and discuss things rationally, like two civilized people. Only she substituted hemlock for tealeaves. Caleb died first, and she, according to legend, cursed him to forever roam this house until he could prove his innocence.”

  “How awful. She didn't even give him a chance to explain?

  “No, not according to the legend.”

  “Don’t tell me you believe Caleb Harrison actually haunts this house, do you?”

  “Of course I do. I’ve seen him. He comes mostly at night, floats about for a bit with those sad blue eyes of his, and disappears.”

  “All because his wife cursed him?”

  “She wasn’t only his wife, she was a witch, and a very powerful one, I might add.”

  “Are you serious? How can you say something so preposterous?”

  “Because all the women in your family are witches. Have been for centuries.”

  “You’re joking.”

  Sarah smiled and shook her head.

  “Grandmother was a witch?”

  “The best I ever worked with.”

  “My mother?”

  “Yes, at least, if she had wanted to, only she wouldn’t let Ester teach her in the ways of the order. You are too, you know.”

  I’ve let a lunatic into my house! “What makes you think we’re witches?”

  “My dear, I’ve been a member of your grandmother’s coven for over fifty years.”

  Enough! I’m not going to sit here and listen to this crackpot. For all I know, she laced this pie with poison. Visions of Snow White danced in her head. “I think you better leave now,” Carolyn said, her voice icy.

  “I understand, sweetie. This is all new to you. Think about what I’ve said and I’ll drop by in a couple days.”