Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  She grabbed her purse and keys and made her way to the car. Why do I worry so much about what Dad thinks anyway? I don’t need his approval. She backed out of her driveway, clamped a hand on the steering wheel, and drove to the subdivision at the town’s outskirts.

  The houses were new but small, ranch homes all built by the same developer. Her father had bought a place there to please his new wife. She always wanted the newest of everything. Even though Dad could easily keep any car running, Heather insisted on getting a new Honda Rav-4 for herself.

  Jancie followed the maze of streets through tan aluminum-sided houses and parked in the drive behind her father’s old Dodge Ram pick-up. Harley’s Silverado wasn’t there. Unsure whether to be relieved or concerned, she walked to the open screen door and called, “Hi Dad, Heather. I’m here.” A black and white fox terrier mutt bounded to greet her. She pushed dog and door aside to enter and reached down to pet the barking, jumping pooch.

  Heather poked her head around the corner. “Jancie! I didn’t know who it was over Gonzo’s barking. Come on in.” The bleach-blonde woman waved her flabby arm toward the couch. “Dwayne’s cookin’ steaks tonight. Mmm. Don’t know what’s the occasion, but it’s good with me.”

  Jancie glanced past the kitchen table to the patio where her dad worked the grill. His back to her, she couldn’t see whether he looked tense. She assumed he already knew what she’d done and dreaded his anger, which could be fierce. Did he think steaks and a fancy meal would obligate her to follow his wishes? She glanced at her stepmother. “Can I help in the kitchen?”

  “Thanks, hon, but it’s all ready for now.” Heather plopped her wide bottom, covered in white knit stretch pants onto the couch. She fluffed her shoulder-length hair, then made kissing noises at the dog while slapping a huge thigh. Gonzo bounded up and barely filled her lap. She stroked his ears while he hid his nose up her wide tunic sleeve. “Have you had a good week, Jancie?”

  “Yeah, work’s been good.” She perched on the armrest of an overstuffed tan armchair. “Farmers wanting to refinance loans.” Jancie usually hung with her dad during family get-togethers because talking with her stepmother was never easy. “How are things going at the beauty salon?”

  Heather chuckled. “Darned good. With so many of the gals taking vacation time, I’ve made a ton of overtime. I’m thinkin’ about buying me some new high-heel leather boots for winter. Hear it’s gonna be a bad one.”

  “That’s what the guys at work have been sayin’.” Jancie’s father walked inside and stood under the archway connecting the dining and living rooms. He’d changed from his usual work uniform into clean jeans and a golf shirt. His clean-shaven hard face, lined from manual labor, seemed sunken with age since he’d left Jancie’s mom and remarried eight years ago. In that time, his wavy brown hair had gone stick straight, wiry and gray. He worked his sinewy muscles with weights daily, like a compulsion. Despite looking fit, the doctor had put him on medication for high blood pressure. Dad always complained about money. Jancie thought his second wife’s bills caused the pressure. “The coals will be ready in a couple minutes.” He eyed his daughter with a gleam in his eye. “You spiffed up for Harley?”

  “Heck, no. Why? Is he coming?”

  “Do you think that boy’d miss a free meal?” Heather laughed.

  Jancie shook her head.

  “Give the guy another chance, will you Jancie?” Dad moved beside her and rubbed her shoulder. “You know, you being with him is extra insurance that he won’t get out of line with my business once he’s manager.”

  Jancie pushed his hand away. “I’ve told you that I’m not going back with Harley. And I’m not changing my mind.”

  Dad moved back and leaned against the archway, his gaze fixed on her. “He said he’d be along a few minutes after six, so at least try to be polite.” He turned his face downward. A muscle spasmed in his jaw. That twitch made Jancie wonder why he wanted her back with Harley so badly. If Harley needed to be kept in line, then why make him manager in the first place? Or had Dad learned she’d talked to a witch?

  Gonzo jumped off of Heather’s lap and ran to the door.

  Outside, a car door slammed and moments later, Harley opened the screen wearing a t-shirt stretched tight across his muscled chest. “Hey all.” He ran grease-stained fingers through the loose curls of his damp golden hair. “Just got out of the shower. Had to work longer than expected on the MacElroy’s old Nash Ambassador. Good thing you started stocking parts for them vintage models, Dwayne. I was afraid the man’d turn me into a frog or something if I had to send away for parts.” He laughed and slapped his boss on the shoulder.

  Jancie stared at her father. He’d always been opposed to the local witches. Why, now, was he taking in cars from the coven for repairs?

  Dad’s eyes met hers, and he turned toward the kitchen. “That fire should be ready to put the steaks on. Is everyone hungry?”

  “Mmm. Yes.” Harley slid an arm around Jancie’s waist. “Steak night. Kind of like when we were dating.”

  “It has been that long since I’ve had steak.” She moved several steps away and forced a smile at her ex, at least relieved to have the honey-sweet Harley tonight.

  Dad rummaged in the refrigerator and carried a tray of marinated meat through the patio door.

  “Jancie, I could use a bit of help with the table,” Heather called over her shoulder on the way to the kitchen.

  “Sure thing.” Glad for at least a little space from Harley, she grabbed a handful of flatware and set places.

  Harley’s goo-goo eyes followed her while she worked and about made her gag. She reminded herself that this was the better of his two personalities and shot a grin at him.

  By the time she and Heather finished, her father returned with thick, charred New York strip steaks.

  The savory smell made Jancie’s mouth water. She sat at her usual spot, and he filled her plate. “Only the best for my little girl.”

  Everyone settled into their places and dug in. Jancie cut her first bite, and the pinkish-brown center tempted her taste buds. In her mouth, the salty juice flooded over her tongue.

  “Jancie, I hear you’ve been at the carnival talking to witches,” her father said while slicing another bite of meat. “Is that so?” He forked the piece to his mouth and eyed her as he chewed.

  Jancie choked on her own saliva and grabbed her glass for a sip of water. Avoiding her father’s gaze, she looked across the table at Harley, his face plastered with a too-innocent-to-be-true smile.

  “Not just any witches.” Harley pointed his fork at her father. “Holding hands with some warlock.”

  “Jancie, you know how I raised you.” Her father’s gaze prickled her skin even though she stared at her plate. “Witches hurt people. You know better. There are plenty of nice young men here in Bentbone.” He gestured toward Harley.

  Never one to stand as Jancie’s ally, Heather bent to the floor and feed Gonzo a meat scrap, then excused herself to the kitchen.

  Trapped two on one, fight or flight took over. Jancie glared back at her father, and her defense rushed out. “I’m not socializing. I just want to use their magic to contact Mom so I can say goodbye. That man you saw.” She glared at Harley. “He can help me.”

  “What about that woman with black hair over one eye? She looked scary but kinda hot.” Harley belched and took a swig from his beer bottle. Jancie wondered what she’d ever seen in him. Looking like a model hadn’t been near enough.

  Dad gripped the edge of the table and swallowed hard. “That’s the coven leader. What trouble have you got yourself up to, girl?”

  “Nothing.” Jancie forced her voice to sound calm. “Mother never minded me going to the coven’s events.”

  He bristled as if steam was about to burst from his ears. “Your mother isn’t here.” His gaze locked onto her with a beady-eyed stare. “You follow my rules now. I don’t want you at that carnival. Stop fighting me, Jancie.”

  “I’m not fightin
g, and I don’t have to follow your rules. I don’t live with you. I just want to say goodbye to Mom. Why don’t you understand? And why are you taking on cars from coven folks now?” She spat the words at him. “Why don’t you follow your own rules?”

  He lurched toward her, then pulled back. The spasm in his jaw pulsed faster, and a vein throbbed in his forehead. “Times are hard. We need the money. I won’t permit you to be around those folk, you hear? People I know got into big trouble with them.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “One man had his teenage son turned into a toad after the boy pranked a witch.”

  Jancie lifted a single brow. “In this small town, I would’ve heard about that.”

  “It happened. Honest.” Her father took a deep breath and leaned forward. “The man had to pay a thousand dollars to get the spell reversed.”

  “I promise I won’t prank any witches.” She shook her head, pushed away from the table, and rose to leave.

  “Sit and eat your dinner, hon.” Heather returned with a pitcher of ice water. “He’s just worried they’ll take advantage of his kin now that he’s working on them old Packards.”

  Jancie glanced at her father who sat silent with a blank look on his face. She took a few bites, but her constricted esophagus made swallowing uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Heather. I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Let me wrap up your leftovers then. It’s too good to waste.” Heather gave Jancie a concerned smile.

  “No, thank you. Give it to Harley. He’s better at following Dad’s orders.” Without a word to Dad or Harley, Jancie held her head high and strode past to the front door.

  ***

  Jancie’s phone chimed with a text alert, and she jerked her head off the couch pillow where she’d fallen asleep. Not Harley again. How does he think that stunt of telling on me will make me like him again? Or maybe he’s been calling to apologize. What a dope. She checked the phone and found a message from her friend Rachelle: Carnival starts tomorrow nite. R we going?

  Jancie typed a response. Maybe another nite. Her father’s agitation bothered her even though it didn’t make sense.

  What’s wrong?

  Jancie sighed. Meet me for lunch tomorrow to talk?

  K. At the Fern.

  Jancie needed to talk but not yet. Too upset to sort out how to deal with her father, she’d spent her evening downing a pint of rocky road. Talking with Rachelle now, Jancie would end up a mess of tears and not solve anything.

  ***

  Friday at work the three bank tellers buzzed about their plans to attend the carnival.

  Jancie ducked into her office to avoid being pulled into their conversation.

  Debbie peeked her head around Jancie’s door. “Are you going to the carnival with your friends? If not, you can go with us. We’re getting a group together.”

  “Thanks, Debbie. I haven’t made plans yet.” The lie caused a sour sensation to form at the back of Jancie’s throat. “I’ll give you a call if I need folks to go with.”

  Debbie smiled and took her place at the front counter.

  Jancie’s stomach shook. The whole town would be going. Heck, folks would probably even ask afterward why they hadn’t seen her there. She’d always been allowed to go if she went with friends. At least, that’d been okay with Mom. Apparently Dad thought he was in charge now. Jancie twisted a paperclip out of shape until the wire broke. What right does he have to disapprove of my choices? Does he feel like he has to step up now that Mom’s gone? A little late for that.

  Sure, he dislikes witches and has for as long as I can remember, but what’s making him so afraid of my involvement with them? Can’t he understand I just want their help to contact Mom and say goodbye? Maybe he’s against that. He did leave Mom and ask for the divorce. Jancie lined up question after question without any answers.

  A phone call from the regional bank manager interrupted Jancie’s thoughts and gave her enough work to fill the morning.

  Lunchtime came fast, and Jancie looked forward to talking with Rachelle.

  “Beautiful weather for the carnival,” Debbie said as she stepped out of the bank beside Jancie, the breeze lifting the teller’s dark bangs. “It’s going to be nice all Labor Day weekend, then turn chilly. I hope you can join us. Want to grab lunch together at the deli?”

  “No, but thanks. I’m meeting my friend Rachelle at the Fern Café.”

  “Oh, Sarah and I almost picked there. They have their meatloaf special today. See you after while.”

  The two women separated, and Jancie crossed the street to the local hangout, thankful that the tellers wouldn’t be there. In a position of authority at work, she didn’t want them knowing her family issues.

  Cars filled all the angled parking spots along the block in front of the Fern. Even a couple of 1930s model roadsters from the coven. Jancie wondered if one of the cars belonged to Rowe. Where the green café curtains parted, she studied the picture windows for his face without any luck. She stepped inside the door, and Rachelle waved from a booth.

  Jancie scanned the room as she made her way down the center aisle. The green on green prints of the décor confused her efforts. Trellis and vine patterned vinyl on the booths conflicted with lily pads on the plastic tablecloths. The floor of checkered mint green and black made her eyes cross. Accented with hanging baskets of ferns, she usually thought the place looked quaint, but now it boggled her mind. She slid in across from her friend

  “Looking for someone or just trying to avoid Harley like normal?” Rachelle took a sip of her iced tea.

  “Harley.” Jancie spun around and rechecked the room. Finding neither guy present, she turned back to her friend.

  “Hmm. Harley’s not on your mind. Who is?” She brushed strands of her shaggy brown hair out of her eyes and fingered her pink feather earrings. “This should be good. What’s up?” Her raspy voice rose with a lilt.

  Jancie focused on Rachelle and remembered why they seldom did lunch. Jancie looked like a stiff banker in her sedate gray dress. No fun compared to Rachelle in her long, bohemian flowing skirt and armfuls of eclectic bracelets. Working as a graphic artist in the local print shop allowed her friend more freedom with her wardrobe. But this talk couldn’t wait until after work. Jancie leaned close and whispered, “I saw two coven cars outside. I only saw one couple in the back. Did any others come in here?”

  Rachelle’s brows lifted an inch, and she nodded toward the bar. “They can’t hear you. Now spill.”

  “My dad was mad at me last night. Thanks to Harley.”

  Rachelle rolled her big brown eyes. “Like you needed another reason to hate Harley.”

  “Hey, gals.” Rhonda, a middle-aged waitress, stopped at their table. “What’ll you have? Meatloaf’s the Friday special in case you can’t tell by the way we’ve packed ‘em in today.” She pulled one of the plastic flower pens from her lime-colored uniform’s breast pocket that jutted out with her ample bosom.

  “Oh, the meatloaf plate sounds great! With slaw and green beans.” Rachelle replied.

  “And I’ll have the meatloaf sandwich with fries.” Jancie slid the two unopened menus to Rhonda.

  “Gods, I hate having lunch with you.” Rachelle tossed a wadded straw wrapper at her. “You can eat everything.”

  “Come run with me sometime.” Jancie smiled.

  “Get up in the wee hour of five in the morning. No thanks.” She reached a hand laden with silver rings toward Jancie and leaned across the table. “I’m dying to know what happened.”

  “Hey, y’all. What’s the occasion?” A slender young woman approached their table. “Our meatloaf?” She wore a wide, pearly smile that seemed out of proportion for her sylph-like features, made even smaller with a hairnet pulling her flyaway white-blonde hair close. She chuckled and sat beside Rachelle.

  “Hey, Willow.” Rachelle scooted over to make room. “The meatloaf’s a bonus. Jancie’s about to tell why her dad doesn’t want her go to the carnival.”

>   Willow’s blue eyes grew round like a doll’s. “What right does he have?” She leaned close to the others at the center of the table. “Make this quick. I’m on break from the kitchen.”

  “At our Thursday night family dinner, Dad accused me of hanging out with the coven’s witches.”

  “Did you?” Rachelle asked in a quiet raspy tone that Jancie strained to hear over the bustle in the café.

  “Aunt Starla shared some witch lore with me she read about in one of relations’ diaries. There’s some magic moonstone locket worn by a member of the coven who’s grieving. That witch is expected to share the magic with others who’ve lost a loved one and want to reconnect with that person.”

  “What’s so bad about that?” Willow adjusted the elastic of her hairnet. “Everyone knows how you missed the moment your mom passed.”

  Jancie took a sip of ice water. “That’s what I thought. But the witch who wears the locket is this insanely gorgeous guy. Harley happened to drive past just as the witch began to share the magic story.”

  “Bummer.” Rachelle twisted a bracelet around her wrist. “So you didn’t get to talk to your mom, and got spotted with a hot guy who happened to be a witch. Harley must’ve enjoyed ruining that much.”

  “Yep.” Jancie stirred the straw through her water. “Harley is just jealous. He must’ve loved taking that juicy tale back to Dad. Somehow Harley had the smarts to use Dad’s prejudice against witches to get revenge on me. Dad’s fired up, not wanting me go to the carnival now.” She looked from one friend to the other. “What really gets me is that he’s now taking in the coven member’s cars at his shop. He says he needs the money.” She rolled her eyes. “I told him to follow his own rules to stay away from witches and then walked out.”

  “You go, girl.” Rachelle held up her palm for a high five that Jancie returned.

  “Oh, Jancie. That’s no fun.” Willow’s voice squeaked, and she wrung her hands.

  Rachelle let out a sigh. “I’m glad my dad’s far away. I couldn’t handle having him around.”