Spring Showers Box-set

by Avell Kro

  and that’s the last thing she would want. I’m not sure she’s entirely convinced, but I’m hoping at

  least she’ll keep her mouth shut in front of Mom. Of course, I’m also worried about Franklin. He

  might totally freak out at any moment and spill everything.

  So I’m in high anxiety mode as we walk into the dining room and join Mom at her table.

  “There you are! I was beginning to think I’d lost you.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Good morning, Franklin,” Mom says.

  His eyes shift up to her and then away. “Good morning,” he mumbles.

  A server comes over and asks what we’d like to order. I take charge, ordering coffee for both of us

  and toast and jam for me. I clap a hand on Franklin’s shoulder.

  “And he’l have the full breakfast: bacon, sausage, eggs, everything. Right, Franklin?” I nod at him

  forcefully.

  Mary nods in agreement and then watches wide-eyed as the server walks away. “That young man

  is serving me at table!” A crazy laugh slips out of her. “That is so marvelous!”

  “What are you talking about?” Mom stares at Franklin, confused.

  “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s practicing a part.”

  “A part in what?” Mom says.

  “Just some play,” I answer and nudge him with my elbow.

  “Sorry.” Mary says. But she doesn’t sound sorry. She sounds like she’s enjoying this.

  Mom says, “I got a text from Jim. He’ll get here early this afternoon. I’d really like to be here to meet him. Do you mind if we delay our drive up to Coventry? Of course, if he’s delayed…”

  We don’t have theater tickets for today, and the plan was to go sightseeing, take in a few villages

  and castles.

  “You know what, Mom? We’re really fine with just hanging around the hotel today.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. They’ve got the pool and the park and gardens. And Wi-Fi. We’ll be fine.”

  “Yes. I would so enjoy strolling in the garden. This was never allowed to me in the past,” Mary says

  with a delighted smile. Then she catches herself and looks down sheepishly.

  “What is this play you’re practicing for, Franklin?” Mom asks.

  “Just something he’s working on,” I answer quickly. “Don’t mind him. He gets weird when he’s

  taking on a character. It’s really better if we don’t even try to talk with him about it.”

  I smile as I kick Franklin’s leg under the table.

  §

  Right after breakfast, I manage to separate us from Mom. We grab jackets from our rooms and

  head outside. Across a terrace and down some steps is a wide area paved with gravel. On the far

  side are a couple of stone buildings with steep roofs. Mary Hull leads me to one of these.

  “This is the stables,” she says as we approach the open doors.

  No one is here, and Mary leads me inside. A long room stretches under high rafters with stalls along

  one side. The place is now a maintenance building, used to store lawn tractors, tools, and work

  benches. The air smells damp and oily.

  We stop in front of a stall. “This is where I hid with my child,” she whispers.

  “Your child?”

  She glances at me frightened, like she’s sorry she mentioned it.

  “Tel me about your child, Mary.”

  Her face squeezes up with grief. “I barely got to hold him, before they took him away.”

  “Who took him away?”

  “Sir Charles and Lady Alice. They promised to raise him as their own. They said it was better for

  the boy. Otherwise he would be a bastard, and they would turn us both out to starve.”

  I remember the story I read, how Lady Alice had fallen down the stairs chasing a maid who had

  stolen her infant. A maid named Mary.

  Now she’s standing next to me in Franklin’s body, sniffling. I don’t know whether to believe her, that the child was actually hers, and I’m afraid to probe more. Violet warned me not to upset her.

  Suddenly her shoulders shake. She looks up, eyes ful of pain, and I sense Franklin is back. He

  shakes his head. “Oh, Abby, they took everything from her.” He stares down at the empty stall. “Let’s

  get out of here.”

  §

  It’s a beautiful sunny morning, the air cold and crisp. We walk through the formal gardens, on

  paths bordered by shrubs and concrete planters. Franklin is marching along like he’s on a mission.

  I have to step fast to keep up.

  “I can see her life,” he tells me. “Like a VR game. But I can feel it too. Like I’m acting on stage.”

  He’s still possessed but in a different way—less terrified, more determined. I decide the best plan is

  to play along. I check my phone: still seven hours till I can get back in touch with Violet.

  “What happened?” I ask him. “Was the baby really hers?”

  “Oh, yes…Mary was an upstairs maid. Sir Charles raped her, then made her come back to his bed

  again and again. But when she got pregnant, he lost interest, and, of course, denied the child was

  his. But Lady Alice was barren, and she knew. She convinced Sir Charles to adopt the child and

  raise it as their own.”

  Leaving the garden, we climb a long, sloping lawn, the grass wet under out feet. At the top stands a

  line of oak trees, bare branches stretched against the blue sky.

  “Where are we going, Franklin?”

  “The river. There’s a place we have to see.”

  We enter the woods and follow a path covered in dead leaves. It takes us over the ridge and down to

  a muddy river, swollen with all the recent rain. An old road curls around the hillside from the

  direction of the hotel. The road crosses the river on an ancient stone bridge.

  Franklin stops, looking up. His face tightens, and Mary’s voice says, “There used to be a tree here.

  It’s where my life ended.”

  My eyes do a wavering thing they sometimes do when I slip into a vision. I see a huge black oak

  near the bridge with a limb stretching over the water. A young woman’s body hangs by a noose,

  her gray dress soaked with rain.

  I blink and the vision disappears. My heart is in my throat. “Why, Mary?”

  She turns on me in rage. “They blamed me for Lady Alice’s accident. They took my baby away and

  drove me out. But I had no place to go. I wanted them to see. I knew her fine funeral procession

  would pass this way, and I wanted them all to see what they had done to me.”

  §

  Mary and Franklin are both quiet as we walk back along the road. When we come around the base

  of the hill, the hotel comes into sight in the distance. It looks like a postcard, elegant and stately, set

  among the lawns and gardens.

  But clouds are rolling in from the east, and before long it starts to rain. We take refuge in a folly, a cluster of decorative building designed to look like Roman ruins. Luckily, part of it is a round

  pavilion with a roof. We sit on a stone bench and stare at the rain.

  Suddenly, Franklin breaks the quiet: “I don’t think I can stand this much longer, Abby.”

  “Try to hold on. Violet will come up with something.” I hope.

  “But we keep going round and round, and I can’t get away from her. And she’s in such pain.” He

  breathing heavily, almost gasping.

  “Breathe slowly, Franklin. It’s okay.”

  I squeeze his hand and stare into his eyes. Finally, he calms down.

  “If I do survive this, without going nuts, I’m going to have to write Mary’s story. A screenplay

  mayb
e…”

  “Franklin has been very kind to me,” Mary says suddenly. “I’m so sorry. I did not mean to make him

  suffer.”

  She looks at me earnestly through Franklin’s eyes. Like she wants to be forgiven. This feels like a

  good time to risk addressing our little problem.

  “You know, Mary, you can’t hold on to him forever.”

  “But he cares for me.”

  “Yes, he sympathizes. So do I. But you need to understand. You are stealing his life. Just like your

  baby was stolen from you.”

  She ponders, looking solemn. “I know…I know you are right.”

  Franklin slips in again: “We have to help her, Abby. We have to give her something.”

  I feel a glimmer of hope. “What can we give her? What do you need from us, Mary?”

  She gazes at the rain. “I don’t want revenge. But I need to be seen. I want the wrong that was done

  to me acknowledged. I want them to admit it, confess what they did.”

  “Sir Charles?”

  “Yes, and Lady Alice.”

  Well, that’s a tall order.

  Franklin comes back. “What do you think, Abby? Is that something you and Violet could maybe

  arrange?”

  5. This should make your job much easier

  When the rain slacks off, we trudge back to Tamgrove Hall. I text Mom and tell her we’re going to

  skip lunch. Franklin is still full from breakfast, and my stomach has no interest in food. Mom

  answers that it’s okay but to be sure to meet her and Jim for dinner at seven.

  We spend the afternoon in Franklin’s room. It rains on and off, and Franklin alternates between

  staring moodily out the window and pacing restlessly up and down. Mary Hul is at the surface

  some, but she doesn’t say much. It seems to me she is brooding over her life and death, processing

  all that terrible emotion.

  Part of the time I’m busy on my tablet, trying to learn about Sir Charles and Lady Alice. There’s not

  much online, but I do track down that Lady Alice died in 1642 and that Sir Charles remarried after

  her death. In fact, he had two more wives and fathered seven more children. So apparently, he had

  a long and happy life. The bastard.

  Finally, six o’clock comes, and I get a text from Molly. She’s at Violet’s and ready to start the call.

  Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I open the app. Franklin is back in his room, napping. Carrying

  Mary around all day has worn him out.

  The call connects, and I see Molly’s freckled face grinning at me. “Abby! How’s it going?”

  “Stranger and stranger.” I thank her profusely for setting this up. She shifts the camera so Violet

  comes into view.

  “Tel us all about it, dear. How is Franklin holding up?”

  I explain how the day has gone and everything I learned about Mary, Sir Charles, and Lady Alice.

  “So you are saying Mary has agreed to move on and stop haunting Franklin, if this Sir Charles and

  Lady Alice acknowledge what they did to her?”

  “Yeah. So she said. I think she’s sincere.”

  “Wel ,” Violet says. “This should make your job much easier.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. All you have to do is raise up the two ghosts and compel them to speak the truth.”

  “That’s all?” Doesn’t sound so easy to me.

  Violet looks down and I hear pages turning. “Here we go. The Book of Lebab has a very simple

  formula for raising and binding spirits. Of course, it is only to be used in dire circumstances and

  for unselfish and righteous reasons. That means reasons in line with the Five Principles. But I

  think we can safely say this qualifies. Don’t you think so, Abby?”

  I mentally run through the Five Principles of the Circle of Harmony: Love (of truth), Endurance, Balance, Amity (good will to all), and Bliss. Check. Summoning up these two ghosts and binding

  them to tell the truth about what passed between them and Mary Hull? Check. I don’t see any

  violations.

  “I think the intent is justified, Violet. But it sounds like a lot for me to take on.”

  “Well. You will need to be on your game, that’s true. But it shouldn’t be nearly as tough as

  banishing that entity last summer. I wasn’t kidding when I said you are a powerful magician, Abby.”

  “Thanks.” My throat is tense, and my voice sounds small.

  “Still, confidence is paramount,” Violet says. “If you don’t feel you’re up to it, it’s best not to try.”

  Well, it sure would be nice to dodge the responsibility. But then, Franklin is counting on me. For

  that matter, so is Mary. “I guess I need to know the details, Violet. Then I’l decide.”

  “Of course.” Violet scans the page in front of her. “Do you have your dagger?”

  “Uh, actually, I haven’t made any of the magical tools yet. I’ve been meaning to. But I’ve been so

  busy with school and everything…”

  “It’s all right. But you’ll probably want to get a knife from the hotel kitchen or somewhere. And

  consecrate it.” She flips some pages. “I’ll give you the formula for that…You better write all this

  down.”

  I think about that for a second. “Actually, if you can hold the book in front of the camera, I can do a

  screen grab from the video.”

  “Really?” Violet grins. “How clever you kids are!”

  §

  I have only a few minutes to look over the screen grabs before I have to meet Mom and Jim

  downstairs. Reading the pages from the Book of Lebab, I see how complex my job will be. Circle of

  Harmony magic usually relies on raising power by calling on Elemental beings, our so-called

  friends of the elements. But the Formula for Calling and Binding Spirits actually calls on three

  classes of Elementals. Water to bring the spirits near, Fire to light their way, and finally Earth to

  bind them. A dagger of iron or steel—representing the Spring of Endurance—is also required.

  There’s a whole separate formula for consecrating the dagger.

  Wel , Violet said I would have to be on my game. But I’m starting to wonder if this game is out of my

  league.

  I change into a skirt and blouse and go down to supper. Mom and Jim are waiting for me in the

  dining room. Jim is tall and fit with brown hair flecked with silver. He’s dressed in a tan sport coat

  and slacks. Mom is wearing one of her prettiest dresses, and I can tell she’s happy to see him. Jim

  gives me a smile and a peck on the cheek when I join them.

  “How are you enjoying England?” he says.

  “Where’s Franklin?” Mom asks.

  “Oh. He’s napping. He was tired out from all the rehearsing for that part he’s writing.”

  Mom laughs and explains to Jim about how weird Franklin was acting today. Mom, you have no

  idea.

  I don’t feel much like eating. But I figure I’m going to need all my strength tonight, so I force myself

  to taste the soup. Once I start, I find I’m famished, so I gulp down some of the next courses: grilled

  cod, chicken with rice and veggies, and even some roast beef. But as soon as it feels polite, I excuse

  myself. By now, Mom and Jim are on their second glass of wine and are wrapped up in each other.

  I won’t be missed too much.

  On my way back across the lobby, I remember that I need some supplies. I change direction and

  walk into the gift shop. The shop is small and only open certain times of the year. Since it’s three

  days after Christmas, they have marked down a lot of their inventory. In t
he back of the shop is

  something I noticed on my first visit, a display case with medieval souvenirs, including some

  replica weapons. My eyes are drawn to a small dagger with a jeweled scabbard. The smiling

  salesman takes it out and shows it to me. He explains that, of course, the gems are colored glass.

  But yes, the blade is steel.

  I slip the knife from its scabbard, weighing it in my hand. I am moved by a feeling of beauty and

  strength. It reminds me of the Spring of Endurance.

  I have found my dagger.

  I realize this is not something I can take on the plane back home. But the salesman assures me

  they can box and ship it. That’s perfect. I tell him I want to show it to someone tonight and

  arrange to drop it off at the shop before we quit the hotel.

  In addition to the dagger, both rituals require fire and water. Water is easy: there are ceramic cups

  in the bathroom, and the shop also sells spring water. As for fire, there are a variety of candles for

  sale, with discounted prices too. I pick out a package of white tea candles.

  I grab a couple of bottles of water and some chocolate and bring my purchases to the counter.

  While the man is running my charge card, I think that I’m all set, and then remember I’ll need

  something to light the candles.

  “Can you give me some matches too, please?”

  The salesman looks at me, surprised. “Oh, you mustn’t use the candles in the hotel, miss. Fire

  regulations, you know.”

  “Uh, I didn’t realize that. Can you give me some matches anyway, please? I promise I won’t light

  them indoors.”

  Now he looks suspicious. “Don’t have any, miss. Sorry.”

  Great. I now have everything I need to perform these two major magic rituals, except I’m stymied

  for lack of matches. A day in the life of Abby Renshaw.

  The nearest shops I know of are in Stratford-upon-Avon, six miles away, plus I’m not even sure they’d be open at this hour. Plus, I would have to ask to borrow Mom’s rental car, which would

  raise all sorts of questions. No, I’ll have to find matches or a lighter someplace in the hotel. The

  only spot I can think of is the lounge next to the bar, the one place guests are permitted to smoke.

  Not a room I would normally want to enter, ever. But in this case, I have no choice. Carrying my

  purchases, I walk back across the lobby.