Edie in Between

by Laura Sibson

  “Go!” Rhia says. “You don’t have much time.”

  I step toward the hallway.

  “Edie!”

  Rhia points down. The toe of my shoe has brushed through the circle of salt. I bend down to try to repair it. Rhia’s face moves from surprise to fear in the second before she’s sucked backward and away from me.

  “Rhia!”

  I reach out to catch her foot, but I miss. I leap for her. She’s moving too fast for me to grab her. She’s pushed out the front door. The door slams shut. My stomach plummets. Leave, every fiber in my body screams at me.

  But I need to get that paper. If there’s any chance that it could help me get rid of this infection, any chance it can prevent anyone else from being harmed, I don’t have a choice.

  I force myself to turn to the short hallway leading to the bedrooms. The shadows seem to be holding. For now. I feel the acorn necklace beneath my shirt, against my skin, reminding me of Mom. And the heavy triquetra, reminding me of GG. I whisper-sing my mother’s lullaby. My voice betrays the fear quaking through my body, but the familiar warmth and calm still flow through me.

  I reach the door to Mom’s room.

  I look over my shoulder. The shadows seem closer than before. And I have no idea how long this enchantment will last. I step into the room. When I look back again, the shadows are only a yard away and they block my path out. I start singing again. I step up to the small bedside table. Vines are slithering over the floor toward me. I rip open the drawer.

  It’s still there. The yellowed envelope. I wait a moment to see if the drawer wants to cut off my fingers. But it stays open. I grab the envelope and shove it in my back pocket.

  I turn to prepare myself to run through the shadows to the front door. Pure dread rises up when I remember how it felt when the shadows tried to grab me last time. Then I notice something puzzling. The vines are snaking their way toward the shadows, not toward me. But there’s no time to examine why because they’ve opened up a path for me and I can’t let it close. I sprint to the living room, scoop up the candle, Rhia’s bag, and the bowl, sloshing its contents as I go. I race to the door, yank open the doorknob, and fly out of the house.

  Tess stands in front of the car, looking completely freaked out.

  “Where’s Rhia?” I ask, breathless.

  “Are you okay?” Tess says.

  My body starts to shake. Whatever tiny amount of composure I had has crumbled. I lean over, bracing my hands on my knees. I close my eyes, but that’s scarier. I open my eyes and try my mother’s calming technique: What can you see? What can you feel? What can you smell? What can you hear? Someone touches my back, and I jerk upwards to find Tess looking at me with concern.

  “Is Rhia here? Is she okay?” I ask.

  “She’s okay. She’s in the car. Let’s get out of here.”

  “What about completing the rest of the spell?”

  “Rhee did it while you were inside.”

  I stand up and nod. “Okay.” Shadows creep at the edges of my vision. I blink and they are gone. I pat my pocket to make sure the paper is there. “Let’s hope this has some answers.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  MAURA

  July 5, 2003

  I’m sure that Jamie had no idea what he was getting himself in for when he took me out last night. Even I didn’t expect all of the emotions that came up. By a little before seven, Jamie was going to show up any minute and I hadn’t even showered. I peered in the mirror and took care of some blemishes with a few whispered words and then put on some clean clothes. When I came out of my room, Jamie was there in his clean T-shirt and jeans, ready for me. Seeing him smiling at me made me feel almost as good as floating on the river after working on the boat all day. But as soon as we left the cabin, I felt off. It felt wrong, leaving Mama, even in her unrelenting silence. I felt as if I were leaving Dad, too. I know he’s dead. I know that.

  We parked in a big field among a lot of other trucks and cars. Most people had spread blankets next to one another on the grass, but I asked Jamie if we could stay in the truck. He said yes, but it still felt all wrong. Wrong to be lying on a truck bed rather than the dock. Wrong to be away from Mama. And most wrong not to have Dad nearby. As the first fireworks cracked open the sky, I felt a tear trickle down my face. I tried to wipe it away so that Jamie wouldn’t notice. But as each new explosion illuminated the sky, the tears fell one after another, too many to catch. By the time the finale beat its staccato all around us, I was shaking with tears.

  Jamie was so sweet, he asked me to tell him about Dad. But I couldn’t. I had the tiniest sense of how loss leaves silence in its wake. Then he asked how long ago it had happened. I had to count in my mind the days of June and today’s date. I told Jamie it had been about two weeks. It was too dark to see his face, but in his silence, I felt the shock.

  He’d hadn’t realized that it was so recent, and he said he’d take me home. But I asked if we could drive around for a bit or something. I missed Dad, but I didn’t want to go to that silent cabin just yet.

  We didn’t speak as we got settled back in the cab of the truck. Jamie didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless chatter. This was different from my mom’s silence. It felt comforting.

  He drove the country roads and I leaned my head against the window, letting it all blur by. After a while, he turned off the main road and we bumped along a gravel driveway until he stopped the truck. He told me that this was where he went when he needed quiet.

  We walked down a dark path, lit by the moon, to a building sitting at the edge of the water. We entered through a door in the back and Jamie flicked on a light, casting a warm glow around us and illuminating the boathouse.

  The space was like a huge garage, but for boats and on the water. Two motorboats bobbed gently in their boat slips. An old wooden canoe gleamed against one wall. A couple kayaks were stacked on arms built into another wall. Paddles hung by their blades and life jackets hung by their necks. The boathouse smelled like wood and water and fuel. It reminded me of Dad, but in a good way.

  We ascended some wooden steps and then we were in a loft area, with a small balcony that gave us a bird’s eye view of the river.

  Jamie plopped on the ground and we both laid back so that our heads were on the balcony. Above us, the sky was carpeted with diamonds. It filled me with awe. I hadn’t seen the stars in so long.

  Jamie said that he liked to imagine those stars over people and land all over the world. That he couldn’t wait to get out and experience it all. He told me how he wanted to travel internationally and help people. I told him how I was admitted into UPenn, where my dad went, and that I knew I’d be crazy not to go. Jamie said it sounded like maybe I wasn’t sure that I wanted to.

  We lay like that for a long while. I inched my hand closer to him until my fingers found his. He interlocked his in mine and we lay like that, holding hands and staring at the gems embedded in the night sky. Jamie’s warm palm against mine woke something deep inside me, like ordinary magic.

  Back at the cabin, I thought about how much Dad would have loved that old boathouse. On my bed, I rolled over on my belly and retrieved the bag of Dad’s belongings that I’d hidden in the space between my bed and the wall. I pulled out Dad’s old watch. The watch face glinted in the low light of my bedroom lamp. I slid it onto my slender wrist and fastened the metal clasp. Dad wore this watch every day.

  This cheap, old watch had gotten me into trouble a couple years ago. I’d gone to a concert with friends. After it was over, we’d all been too amped to go home, and I lost track of time. When I realized how late it was, I performed a quick charm to change the clocks at home. But when I arrived home, Mama and Dad were awake, sitting in the kitchen chairs in their pajamas. Mama’s face was etched with worry that quickly gave way to disappointment. Dad was angry. He tapped his watch and asked if I knew what time it w
as. He knew exactly what time it was because my little charm had only affected the digital clocks in the house, not Dad’s analog Timex. I never forgot Dad tapping his watch and telling me that I was inconsiderate or Mama telling me that I’d abused the gifts I’d been given. Now, I unclasped Dad’s Timex from my arm and placed it back in my bag. I wondered about the power of Dad’s things—how they could bring back memories so clearly. And I wondered again if there might be a way to bring on Dad’s ghost.

  Chapter Eighteen

  EDIE

  NO UNWANTED MARKS CHARM

  This one is very simple, but you need to be careful about your intention or else you might get rid of something else by accident.

  Unwanted marks I clear away,

  Leave the rest untouched as I say.

  Tess and I are sitting in the back room at Cosmic Flow, which has become our de facto meeting place. Rhia helps a customer out front. I’m staring at the note that I’d pulled from the cabin. The paper itself is thick and yellowed. Handwritten on it are five puzzling lines.

  “I’ve been looking at this for the last two days and it makes no sense to me,” I say.

  I push the paper over to Tess and she reads it out loud:

  “ ‘Watch the passing of time. Unlock the place where memories are built. See a moment of joy, captured. His name, times two, hangs on a chain. Love, worn in a never-ending circle.’ ”

  “Does it mean anything to you?” I ask.

  Tess shakes her head. Rhia comes in after ringing up a customer. She seems like a light turned down today. I wonder if she’s feeling regret from going into that cabin with me or if maybe things are hard at home.

  “We can’t figure out what this means. Do you have any ideas?” Tess says.

  Rhia picks it up. “It’s phrased oddly, huh?” She flips the paper over. “And there’s not much to it. Just these five tiny handwritten lines on the whole page.”

  I sigh out my frustration. “Why did we think this paper would tell us anything about what’s in the cabin or how to get rid of it? This is nothing but an old note that my mom must have written and then forgotten about.”

  Rhia sets the paper down and walks over to a table stacked with boxes.

  “Come on, Brainiac, think,” Tess says.

  I want to think, but my brain has been foggy ever since leaving the cabin. The lines on my palm are progressing up to my wrist. I’m frustrated, and a little scared, too.

  “If Rhia thought the bad magic was protecting the paper then it’s probably more than an old note. I believe in Rhia,” Tess says.

  I wanted Rhia to be right, too. But I don’t see how these five lines are going to help me at all.

  “Come on,” Tess cajoles me. “You would never give up this easily on a run. Or a math problem either, probably.”

  “Ugh, you’re right.” I stand up and pace. I interlock my hands and rest them on my head, willing my brain to work through this puzzle. I had hoped that this paper would offer me a clear answer, not more ambiguity. But life doesn’t work like that. And neither does magic.

  “Maybe they’re clues or riddles. And maybe each one will lead us to something or someplace that will give us some actual answers. ‘Watch the passing of time.’ How do we watch the passing of time?”

  “Maybe when we watch a sunset?” Tess says. “Or watch people grow older?”

  “I don’t know. By looking at a clock?” Rhia says from across the room where she seems to be organizing antlers by size.

  “Yeah, like when we’re bored at school,” Tess says.

  “Wait!” I say.

  “What? Clocks?” Rhia sets down an antler.

  “Mom talked about a watch in her journal. What if the clue is actually the word watch?” I say.

  Tess pulls the note closer. “If the clues are that on the nose, then what could these others be? ‘Unlock the place where memories are built’ must be keys or a lock, right?”

  “Maybe. But keys to what?” I say. “And why would we need them? How does a watch and some keys help us banish whatever is in that cabin?”

  “Is the watch meaningful in some way?” Rhia asks.

  “It was my grandfather’s. Why?”

  “I’m not sure. But you know about scrying, right? Using something that belonged to someone to find them?”

  I nod.

  “Items that hold a person’s energy can be powerful in magic.”

  I frown. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

  “If we figure out the rest of the clues, maybe it will give us the big picture that we need. So, where are memories built?” Rhia asks.

  My gut response is everywhere. But when I close my eyes and think about where memories are built, I think of my mother and of the house we lived in together. “A house,” I say. “A home.”

  “E, focus on your mother, grandmother, and grandfather. This is somehow connected to them. Where were memories built for them?” Tess says.

  I consider what I’ve learned from my mother’s journal. I straighten up. “My grandfather had a workshop where he built furniture. My mom wrote about helping him.”

  “Perfect. So now we know we are looking for a watch and some keys to a workshop,” Tess says.

  “Where is your grandfather’s workshop?” Rhia asks.

  I think back to Mom’s journal entries. “It was behind the cabin.”

  We all look at each other. There’s no workshop behind the cabin. Just an empty plot of land.

  “I guess it was demolished at some point,” I say.

  “But maybe we only need to find the key,” Rhia says. “Maybe we don’t need to get into the actual workshop.”

  “Maybe,” I say, doubtful.

  I look at the paper again. “And how do we know where to even look for this stuff—assuming we guess correctly what it is we are looking for?”

  The sense of impossibility settles down on me again.

  “Edie, you said your mother magicked spells into her journal, right?” Rhia asks.

  I nod.

  “Do you think there could be something magicked onto this paper? Something we can’t see right now?”

  I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. Feels like anything is possible at this point, which also feels totally overwhelming. “I need a minute.” I go outside where the heat and humidity are a welcome change from the dim incense-filled shop. I breathe in the summer air and get a whiff of honeysuckle. I wait for Mom to appear, but this time the scent comes from actual honeysuckle that sits near the back entrance of the store. Rhia comes out like a woman on a mission. She stops in front of me, arms crossed over her chest.

  “You’re pissed that I talked you into using your magic at the cabin and it got a little crazy,” Rhia says in her characteristically direct manner.

  I blink a couple times, trying to make sure I’m understanding what she’s saying. “Wait. You think I’m mad at you?”

  “Yeah,” she says, dropping her arms to her sides. “Aren’t you?”

  I shake my head. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

  Rhia shakes her head and her curls shake, too. “Why did you think that?”

  “Maybe because I dragged you into a potentially homicidal cabin? And I suck at the whole fire thing. Also, you didn’t say a word the whole ride home. But mostly the homicidal cabin part—what if you’d been hurt?”

  “I was totally freaked out. Way out of my depth,” Rhia confesses. She steps toward me. “But it was my choice to go in there with you.”

  Rhia’s words give me a happy tingle, even though it might not mean anything more than the fact that she was helping me—like friends do.

  “And it was my choice to agree to the magic. Besides, your plan worked. We cast the spell and got the envelope. Bonus: neither of us was eaten by shadows. Truth is—I couldn’t have done it wi
thout you.” I look at the ground and then back at Rhia. “Wouldn’t have wanted to.”

  “Oh.” A small smile plays at the corner of her lips. “Okay then. That’s . . . good to know.”

  “And you’re not mad at me?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. Then she looks up, brown eyes catching mine. “You were great in there. I was scared shitless.”

  “Except for the epic fire fail. But you stuck it out with me.”

  “You’ll get it,” Rhia says.

  I wonder if she’s right. She cocks her head back toward the store. “Come on.”

  We walk back into the shop where we find Tess posing for a selfie.

  “Stop sexting Jorge. Time for a group hug,” Rhia announces.

  “What?” I say.

  “Bring it in.” She holds her arms out and wiggles her fingers, indicating that Tess and I should join her.

  Tess drops her phone and flashes an innocent grin. “No idea what you’re talking about, but I never say no to a Rhia hug.”

  I allow myself to be enfolded and wrap my arms around them, appreciating the way that this grounds me and—if I’m honest—savoring this closeness to Rhia.

  “Are we all good now?” Tess’s voice is muffled by the hug. “Because you are both taller than me and I’m sort of suffocating.”

  Rhia laughs in that big, open way, and now she’s the same Rhia I remember, with all the lights turned on.

  “Hey, you know what we should do?” Rhia says when we pull apart, an impish smile lighting her face.

  Both Tess and I look warily at Rhia. “What?” Tess says.

  “Tattoos. To commemorate our first haunted cabin experience together,” Rhia says.

  “You say it like there will be more haunted cabin experiences,” Tess says.

  “There might be!” Rhia says. “What do you say? Little ghosties right here?” She gestures to the soft skin of her inner arm. “You know I always have my needle and ink. Ready to stick and poke.”

  Tess shakes her head.