Residue

by Laury Falter

  They turned to me and caught sight of my bewilderment.

  While Nurse Carol seemed poised to perform a proper introduction, Aunt Lizzy ended that possibility with a squeal of delight and a swing of her arms around my shoulders. Then my body was flopping back and forth as Aunt Lizzy swung me from side to side, her tiny frame somehow effortlessly summoning the strength.

  She was laughing heartily when my feet finally found the floor again.

  “You have no idea how much I’ve anticipated this day,” she said.

  I smiled back, though I’m sure it was a shaky one. “I’ve wanted to meet you, too.”

  She giggled at me and leaned in to whisper. “I meant you coming to live with us, dear.”

  Again, I was taken aback. It was the second time today that someone seemed to have known I would be shipped off to live with my family in New Orleans well before I had any clue of it. Giving my reaction no notice, she threw down a wad of cash in front of the airline ticket representative and said, “Two tickets to New Orleans on the next flight out.”

  “Two?” I asked, perplexed. “But how did you get here?” I’d assumed she’d simply disembarked to meet me before re-boarding.

  After a brief, knowing glance in Nurse Carol’s direction, she replied to me in an offhanded manner before hurrying to change the subject.

  “I have my own form of transportation, dear. I just couldn’t bear the wait. Your cousins will be thrilled too. Just thrilled. I haven’t told them yet. They’re still at camp.” She paused briefly and lowered her voice to a whisper. “That’s code for the sabbat festival, Mabon. But, of course, you know nothing of that.” She patted my cheek as one would to soothe a lost child. “We’ll fix that right quick though. Right quick.”

  I had no idea what she was referring to and was almost thankful when Nurse Carol cleared her throat. She smiled kindly at Aunt Lizzy while interrupting, telling me that she wasn’t offended for having been ignored. On the contrary, it seemed she already knew to be patient with Aunt Lizzy. “I’m heading back now.”

  “Oh, yes, of course, dear,” said Aunt Lizzy, not bothering to hide her disappointment, which again struck me as odd behavior toward a school nurse. Still, she took Nurse Carol’s hands before continuing. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Jocelyn.”

  Finally, the curiosity became overwhelming and I asked, “Do you two know each other?”

  The women grinned knowingly at each other, in reaction to a joke I clearly wasn’t privy to.

  “We’ll cover that, and more, shortly,” said Aunt Lizzy before the airline representative drew her attention to finish the ticketing process.

  I said my goodbye to Nurse Carol, with whom I’d never exchanged words until today, and still I saw the beginning of tears in the corner of her eyes as she turned away.

  Her final words to me were simple and indicative of a nurse. “Be safe.” Even then, I felt as if she were conveying a deeper meaning, a warning of what was to come but I never got the chance to inquire. Instead, I followed Aunt Lizzy through the airport, her pitched voice carrying the entire conversation by herself. By the time I was seated on the airplane, Aunt Lizzy had given me a complete profile on each of my cousins, though her rapid pace didn't allow me to digest any of the information. Instead, I listened quietly stunned that I was heading toward a new, mysterious life when I should have been eating birthday cake, sitting Indian-style, in the middle of my dorm room surrounded by friends.

  I drew in a breath as much to calm myself as to vicariously take one for Aunt Lizzy, who continued to talk non-stop, merging one sentence with the next, and without ever taking a breath.

  As I tried to keep up, my awareness absentmindedly drifted and I noticed, oddly enough, that every row before us was filled with passengers from the front toward the middle. This left the entire last half of the plane to us, allowing for an incredible amount of privacy. Once I acknowledged this, my patience ran out.

  "I'm sorry, Aunt Lizzy, but I’ve been told that I am in danger and, given the size of this thing on my arm, I'm actually leaning toward believing it. You and Nurse Carol seem to know more about what's going on with me than I do so can you please explain this all to me?"

  I was clearly exasperated, so much that she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  Then, before my eyes, she transformed in to a completely different person, someone calmer and more thoughtful. She suddenly took on the appearance of someone who had seen too much in her life causing me a flicker of guilt for having brought this out in her. When she spoke her voice softened nearly to a whisper. "Jocelyn, have you ever noticed anything...peculiar about yourself? In other words, have you ever been able to do something that others couldn't?”

  I thought back, trying to recall something that would satisfy her. "No," I finally said. "Not really."

  Her lips pinched upward as she considered how to continue. "Think along the lines of something…" She paused to search for the most appropriate word before summing up her intended thought in a way I never would have expected, “…mystical."

  One of my eyebrows lifted in suspicion.

  "Everyone has a little magic in them,” she argued, slightly annoyed with me. “Some have a little more than others. You, I imagine, have quite a bit."

  I laughed through my nose in disbelief. Playing along, I countered, "Why me?"

  Without a flinch or the bat of an eyelash, she replied solemnly, "Because you hail from a line of distinguished witches."

  Before I knew it was coming, I sniggered. Then I waited for her to break in to a grin, chuckle, or show any sign she was joking with me. Doing none of these, she opted to stare at me blankly.

  “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” I asked, still grinning.

  “You can believe what you want, Jocelyn,” she said and turned to gaze out the window.

  Only then did my smile fade.

  “All right, so you are telling me that my family practices Wicca?” I asked, slightly unnerved by the idea.

  Aunt Lizzy held back a grin at my question but she did look my way. “Not necessarily. All types are practiced, not just those in the mainstream.” To my perplexed expression, she elaborated, “Witchcraft has been around for centuries and has evolved to fit different personalities and lifestyles. We have evolved with it.”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing again and turned to face the front of the plane.

  “Think about it, Jocelyn,” she urged quietly. “You already know the truth. You are part of that evolution. You only have to accept it and then I can explain everything.”

  Her carefree demeanor had been completely erased. It was clear from her tone and the fact that she faced the window again that she didn’t intend to continue this conversation until I’d come to terms with what she’d told me.

  “All right,” I replied simply to appease her.

  She pivoted her head toward me again, her lips pinched in dissatisfaction. I knew from her expression that she didn’t believe me. “All right, what?”

  I hesitated then. I knew she was asking for evidence, validation that I believed her, and I could have played along convincingly. Something stopped me though. Not only was she astute enough to see through it but if I were honest with myself, there were memories that singled me out as different…possibly mystical in nature. The first was when I’d touched Elizabeth’s plants and brought them back from the dead, sprouting regenerated leaves in only a day. I also recalled the time when Alisa had been unable to overcome a stubborn cold; it was only after she had accidentally taken my water bottle and drank from it overnight that she had completely recovered. Then it was as if a floodgate had opened and memories inundated me. I had to literally shake my head before the thoughts would clear.

  My face fell then at the realization, something Aunt Lizzy must have seen because she briefly placed a comforting hand over mine.

  “Things…they mend when I’m around,” I muttered, speaking more from my subconscious as if someone else were doing
the talking.

  She nodded expectantly and then mumbled, “Your father was a healer, too.”

  “He was? My mother never told me…” I mused disconcerted that she’d keep something so personal to herself.

  Aunt Lizzy nodded. “There is quite a bit your mother never told you.”

  That acknowledgement made me wonder what else she hadn’t mentioned. I got the feeling it was a lot.

  “But,” Aunt Lizzy went on, “all of that is starting to be revealed. Your scar, for example…”

  I was still slightly stunned at my aunt’s assertions so, when my eyes fell to the thing on my arm, I watched it absentmindedly.

  Having followed Nurse Carol’s instructions to regularly administer the ointment she’d given me the scar’s heat had subsided so that it now felt more like what I thought an intense sunburn might feel like.

  Then Aunt Lizzy began to speak, mesmerizing me with a history lesson I couldn’t have envisioned.

  “Your mother sent you to that academy to keep you safe, Jocelyn. She sent you as far away from New Orleans as was possible, while still allowing easy access to you. After your father’s death,” Aunt Lizzy snorted lightly, “well…there was no convincing her that you were safe after that. So she took you and stowed you away. Then, because your mother is a tenacious woman, she hired someone to protect you, to guard you. And Nurse Carol did a fine job with-”

  “Nurse Carol?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  “Yes, the very same,” said Aunt Lizzy with a firm nod. “She watched and sent reports of your progress to your mother and me over the years so that essentially we’ve watched you grow up on paper. I have, as I’m sure your mother has, looked for, waited for, expected really, one thing in particular to appear in those reports; An ailment -anything that would tell us that the protection we’ve placed over you had weakened. That sign, or more precisely, that scar on your arm, tells us that they’ve found you.”

  “Found me? Who’s found me?”

  Aunt Lizzy drew in a shuddered breath but didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her expression stiffened and her eyes darkened. “The Caldwells. The Caldwells have found you.”

  “Who are the Caldwells?” I asked, the scar now competing for my attention with the goose bumps rising on my other arm.

  “They are the reason you are on this flight and the reason you have that scar on your arm. They are your enemies, Jocelyn.” My goose bumps turned to chills as she continued. “The Caldwells will use all resources necessary to harm, to maim, to kill any Weatherford whenever they can get away with it, and they’ve proven as much over the years. Because of them, we’ve lost and been forced to rebuild our family fortune. They nearly killed us off entirely in the 1920s. They even killed your…” She stopped herself short, hesitant to finish her sentence.

  “My what?” I persisted.

  She hesitated to reassess whether to tell me, finally falling on the side of keeping silent. “They are treacherous, Jocelyn. That’s all you need to know.”

  I waited for her to change her mind, to finish her thought but she was unwilling to offer more. “How could they do all that? And why would they?” I asked disheartened at learning my family came with such a disturbing past.

  “The Caldwells have been casting curses against us since as far back as we - the Weatherfords - can remember. The reasons are many and they compound with each effort to hurt us. In turn, we’ve retaliated as best we could to protect ourselves, to send them a message they never seem to hear. Yet, they continue to wield their powers without thought of the consequences. And they are crafty, Jocelyn, so you’ll need to be careful. They cast their most dangerous curses to work in private, coming to fruition when you are unable or unaware of how to protect yourself and they do it in a way that no one can trace it back to them.”

  My eyes drifted toward the front of the plane where the stewardesses were suddenly taking their seats.

  “You’ve now come to live with us while your mother continues her work at the ministry,” Aunt Lizzy went on, seemingly unaware of the commotion at the cockpit. “It is the safest place for you now.”

  The plane dropped then, deep enough so that my stomach lurched into my throat and violent enough to send Aunt Lizzy in a frenzied effort to search through her purse for a bag of herbs. Harried, once finding it, she took a pinch and swallowed it without chewing. Instantly, she was taking deep, slow breaths, locking her eyes on the bag in case she needed to use it for something else.

  “Turbulence,” she squeaked. “Never been very…”

  While she was unable to finish her explanation, I knew what she meant and I left her alone. Having traveled enough times with my mother on holiday vacations, air sickness was something I’d seen countless times before.

  As I sat quietly registering everything I’d been told, with each thought came two more questions. Unfortunately, the turbulence didn’t cease for more than an hour and by that time Aunt Lizzy had turned a faint shade of greenish-gray and I just didn’t have the heart to badger her for answers.

  Finally, my eyelids fell and at some point I drifted to sleep, awakening to Aunt Lizzy’s gentle nudges.

  I found that her face retained the odd color and her eyes drooped low enough to confirm she hadn’t slept at all, not even during the layover in Atlanta.

  Without a word to each other, we finally disembarked at Louis Armstrong International airport in New Orleans, walked slowly through the terminal, and found Aunt Lizzy’s car, the latest Porsche 911, bright red and in flawless condition. It fit her perfectly, even in her current state.

  It was still dark at that time so when she raced down the interstate and through the downtown area of New Orleans, I didn’t see more than a blur of buildings and street lights flashing by. In fact, she sped so fast down her street that I was unprepared for the sharp left she made in to her driveway. Aunt Lizzy seemed to be in a hurry, or maybe she just drove fast. Either way, the flight seemed to have taken a toll on her.

  Coming to a stop on a brick driveway just outside the back door, she pulled in line with a row of sports cars that gleamed, untainted and dust-free, even in the dead of night.

  Then I stepped out, looked up, and found my new home.

  The sun was just about to peek over the horizon by then, illuminating the two-story, second empire mansion. Intricately and ornately designed with a mansard roof, iron crest, and boasting paired columns and sculpted petals around the doors, windows, and dormers, it was both imposing and majestic.

  Aunt Lizzy motioned me to follow her so I grabbed my photo album and top hat and entered the back door, finding the house equally as sophisticated on the inside. The few lamps and hallway lights left on for us allowed me to see the house was comfortably decorated with furniture that was either plush or highly-polished. Framed pictures covered the walls and luxurious rugs lay across the hardwood floors in every room we passed.

  She escorted me to a lavishly-appointed guest room on the second floor and then disappeared down the hall to the master bedroom. As my gaze drifted back toward my new room, it moved across the row of old photographs hanging along the entire hallway, some torn at the edges and others worn with time. In each of them, people stood or sat with regal expressions and not a single one was familiar to me. Yet, I knew they were my family because we all carried one distinct element.

  It was so obvious - I couldn’t have missed it, not after my mother’s quizzing on the significance of specific gems.

  Each one wore a crystal quartz stone just like the one in the bracelet my mother had given me, and forbidden me from removing. However, not all of them wore it as a bracelet. Some of the stones were embedded in hair clips and rings, others in belt buckles, and still others were worn as a necklace.

  This was when I realized I was not alone.

  Turning, I found a stout, swarthy-skinned woman staring at me from an open doorway across the narrow hall. With her hair wrapped in a vividly colorful scarf and her neck, not to be outdone, donned with yarn necklaces f
rom which hung teeth and other small bones, she looked entirely out of place in this home. Leaning to one side on a cane that looked like it could snap in half under her weight, she remained staring at me as if I were an intruder she was about ready to pummel. Then she made the most unexpected comment.

  “Wards off evil,” she said with a deep southern accent. While her words were cordial, her tone and pinched lips told a different story.

  “Excuse me?” I replied with a tilt of my head.

  “The stone wards off evil.”

  “Oh…” I mumbled, giving the pictures an uncomfortable, fleeting look. That feeling of being left out of the loop had returned. “So, the crystal quartz is my family’s stone?”

  She didn’t answer right away, her frown continuing to pucker her fleshy face.

  “You’re astute,” she finally replied, though coming from her it didn’t sound like a compliment. It was more of an observation, a line to check off a list of attributes. She continued to openly assess me before changing the subject, stiffly saying, “Welcome back, chil’.”

  I blinked a few times, processing what she was implying. The long night had slowed me down but I collected myself and refuted, “Oh, no…I’ve never been here before.”

  Her eyes widened at my statement before she settled back to her pinched frown. “Well, yer wrong ‘bout that. This here’s your family.” She snapped her cane up, scarcely missing my left ear. “That there’s yer Great Aunt Barbara, first patron of the ministry. That there’s yer Great Great Uncle Vesper, the last of the local justices…‘fo they retired the positions.” She continued moving down the row, pointing to each one with her cane and giving a brief description of each in a way that made me think she was bothered with having to explain it all. Then she settled the cane back against her leg and looked at me squarely. “Seein’ as how ya don’t rememba me, my name’s Miss Mabelle. I’m the keeper of this here house. Now…” Her hand swooped out from behind her, startling me. “I need ya to do a little shoppin’ fer me.”

  This threw me a little. It wasn’t exactly the most welcoming gesture. Nice to meet you. Now do some shopping for me.