Husband Rehab

by Curtis Hox

  A magic wand, really?

  Josie wants to blurt out a wise crack about antiquated ways and why using such objects makes the world fear witches. Come on. Get real. Please. Whatever. The words flow through her mind, but she keeps them to herself. If Roxy wants to enchant an object to cast a spell, she should have picked something more contemporary, and sophisticated, as a tool—like a Mont Blanc pen, or even a remote control.

  Roxy steps toward Lennox.

  “What’s going on?” Lennox asks.

  Roxy mumbles a few words under her breath and waves the switch at him with about as much gusto as a thousand-year-old conductor. Everyone sees barely visible flickers of light leave the switch and float toward Lennox. They encircle him like tiny fireflies.

  “What the …?” he says. In an instant, he relaxes and stands at attention, as compliant as a soldier. Josie feels herself go numb. Roxy’s draconian form of therapy is standing right before them. You could throw him to the bottom of the ocean, and he’d stay like that until he drowns. Lennox …

  Josie tries to hide her snarl, but fails.

  Christine looks uncomfortable but refuses to intervene. She shakes her head at Josie to keep quiet. This is getting way too militant. The binding of men to bend beneath the boot heels of women goes against everything Josie stands for. It’s something Josie has always felt strongly about. But Christine disagrees. For her, happiness is more important than freedom. She is doing nothing to help her son because she must truly fear for his life. Josie feels a moment of panic, unsure, because she has always trusted Christine’s knowledge, her strength, her wisdom. Right now, everything in Josie tells her to toss the potion on the floor, to let his break open, spilling its secrets so that no one can misuse it. Christine, though, for some inexplicable reason that makes Josie want to scream until her lungs burst, is letting all this happen …

  “Okay, sunshine,” Lady Dooley says. “Give it to him.”

  Lennox’s eyes lock onto Josie. He’s there, aware, completely cognizant of what’s happening. He’ll run through fire if Roxy commands it. She knows how to twist a man to her needs. Stella’s poor husband is nothing but a slave now, a shining example of everything Josie wants to avoid with Husband Rehab.

  Josie can sense Lennox’s desire for her to toss the stuff on the floor. Christine nods for her to obey, as if to say that everything they hope to do depends on this compromise. Christine, though, unlike Roxy, would never turn her son into a slave, not in a million years. Something tells Josie to trust her, that no matter the power of the potion, Lennox can be saved. The potion is one of her grandmother’s most prized concoctions. She only used it once (on the man she married), the grandfather Josie never knew. It worked for ten years, up until the moment he died in a car accident. She warned Josie against using it, though, because you have to be certain that’s the person you want tagging along for the rest of your life. You have to be certain that person will want to anyway. Otherwise, you’re a slave master.

  “Better for a man to choose to love you on his own,” her grandmother once said. “Love potions are tricky business. Tricky.”

  Besides, something in Josie always believed that true love is stronger than any potion.

  He’ll still come back to me, she thinks.

  She walks to Lennox, unscrews the cap, and puts it to his lips. He drinks without hesitation.

  Roxy waves her wand again, and he reanimates.

  “What have you done?” he asks.

  Josie can see he’s asking her, although he scans the room.

  “Stella …?”

  “Just some insurance,” Lady Dooley said. “How does it work, exactly?”

  Josie screws the cap back on and places the container on her workbench.

  “Tonight, at midnight, whoever he kisses, he’ll love until the day he dies.”

  She refuses to look at any of them. She pretends something on her desk needs attention. Don’t cry, not here. Not now, she tells herself. It’s all she can do to control her breathing so that it doesn’t machine-gun rattle in her throat. Her chest feels too unsettled, as if at any moment it might start bucking.

  “Roxy, stay close, please,” Lady Dooley says. “Just to make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish.”

  “What about you?” Stella asks. “Your husband is still … acting poorly.”

  “Oh, I don’t want him to love me. I want him to do what I say. I’ve tried everything else in the book. That old warlock has a few tricks still up his sleeve. Like you, I once thought I could make his talents into something useful. I was wrong about my husband.” The high priestess heads for the exit. “See you all at midnight. The drawing room?”

  Warlock?

  Josie should have guessed, although Mr. Dooley has been neutered, if so. He doesn’t strike her as a practicing witch. No doubt, his wife saw to that. But for him to remain so independent for so long he must have some defensive skills.

  Josie casts Roxy a die-please-die-right-now glance, then exits her workroom. She plans to let the tears come, but only after she reaches the bathroom.

  * * *

  Midnight. Josie finds herself in the drawing room, even though she is still considering barricading herself in her bedroom. The women are all here, as is Mr. Dooley. Lennox waits like a man ready to be shot. He’s free from Roxy’s magic wand, but he appears anxious. He won’t look at Josie, which is maddening.

  She wants him to announce to the world his hatred for Stella. She wants this chiseled in stone. She wants a monument that reaches a mile into the sky.

  She also wants it all to go away so that Birchall can flourish.

  Husband Rehab must continue, although Lennox’s proposed enslavement has turned her inside out. Now, she must watch him kiss Stella and turn into her prince charming ... a tragic fairy tale by Josie’s own hand.

  Lady Dooley nods at Roxy. Josie hears the words and sees the switch point at him like a damning finger.

  He stands rigid.

  Is that sadness in his eyes, she wonders?

  He looks at her, pleading, as if she can …

  Kiss me, Josie!

  She scans the room. Christine observes in a far corner, unwilling to intervene, even though her son is about to be ensorcelled. She’s allowing this … injustice for Birchall to succeed? For Lennox’s life? For his happiness? Josie can imagine what is going through Lady Cruz’s mind. Maybe, if it makes him happy and safe, its a good thing. We need Lady Dooley’s approval. We need to make this compromise to free will, Josie. Lennox must be made happy. He did marry her. He did love her once. Roxy also appears content to fashion another man into a machine, while Stella appears reserved. She’s getting what she wants, but she knows this is forced. She’ll take it because her version of love is having a pet that licks her hand when she desires. Lady Dooley, it seems, is watching Josie more than anyone else. Does she want to see me suffer, Josie wonders? That wry smile and those cold eyes suggest she hates me because I get my fingers dirty … and do what she can’t.

  If anything needs to change in witch society, it’s old women like her who do more harm than good.

  Josie watches Lady Dooley check her watch.

  In slow motion, she sees the high priestess look toward Stella. She gives one nod.

  “It’s time.”

  Stella only needs six steps to get to him.

  Lennox’s eyes move toward her, as if she’s a monster about to devour him.

  At midnight, whomever he kisses …

  Josie rushes toward Lennox.

  Two more steps …

  She feels herself lock in place. She can’t turn her head. She hears the incantation coming from Roxy. That damn switch must be pointing right at her. Roxy has used it against her, one witch against another. Josie wants to scream in anguish, but the sound won’t form.

  She’s only inches from him. If I can just …

  Lennox’s eyes are wide with desire.

  They both strain against the invisible bonds, neither moving a millimeter.r />
  “Stella, if you will,” Lady Dooley says.

  Stella enters Josie’s field of vision. The woman is glaring hatred. Josie glares it back.

  Stella edges past Josie, grabs Lennox by the waist, and snakes her hips to his. She pecks him once.

  Josie closes her eyes because she doesn’t want to see.

  She feels the bond loosen.

  She turns and edges away from Roxy, whose switch, still dangling in her hand, looks like nothing more than a piece of denuded shrubbery.

  Lennox falls onto a couch in a swoon.

  His hands are at his head, as if he’s just been stunned by a punch.

  Stella attends to him like a devoted wife.

  Josie watches as they embrace; he looks into Stella’s eyes.

  The moment is more than Josie can bear.

  She turns and rushes from the room, hearing him say the horrible words, “My love …”

  * * *

  An official convocation is to happen. The following day, Josie manages to arrive for lunch before it’s served. She hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since last night’s travesty. Aunt Emma has arrived, as have several other members of the coven. She ignores them as she loiters near the kitchen, hoping that Stella and Lennox have already left.

  Mr. and Lady Dooley are already seated. He’s speaking with Mr. Polk, who’s still here even though Josie doesn’t need to see him again. He should head home and act right. That’s it, really. Act right. A little push to help him out is all. What the witches did to Lennox, though, was the same thing as tearing out his soul and replacing it with something of her making.

  She stares at her shaking hands.

  She wraps one around the other and steps into a side closet in the corridor.

  I’m a lowly brewer, she thinks, for people to abuse and bend to their wills.

  Before she starts crying again, she walks into the kitchen. Stella and Lennox also enter from the back way, obviously having taken a morning walk. They are both smiling, both with sweat on their brows. He looks like he might grab her in his arms and run around in circles in the lawn. Just for fun.

  Josie tears her eyes away before the ache overcomes her.

  “Glad you all could make it,” Lady Dooley says. “I want to extend a formal invitation to our organization … where is she?” Lady Dooley sees Josie at the end of the table as if, suddenly, her eye sight isn’t what it once was. “I want to extend a formal invitation to Josie Bran. She’s proven resourceful. Her skills are top notch. She’s young. She may not know our traditions, but she can learn.”

  All eyes fall on Josie. Her plate is empty. Alice is busing herself with the final touches on a second round of tuna-fish sandwiches, peppered with raisins and sweet apples.

  “Hi,” Josie says and waves. “Glad I could be of service.”

  Josie can’t bear to look at her.

  Everyone else offers a greeting; then lunch continues. Modern witchcraft isn’t much on ritual and ceremony anymore, at least that’s what it seems to Josie. She’s not much for it, anyway.

  When her sandwich comes, she takes a deep breath and tells herself to enjoy it. By the time she’s done, she plans to be over Lennox Cruz.

  She grabs it to take a bite and sees him staring at her.

  Her heart misses a beat, two, three. She thinks she might float off her chair right there. The love potion didn’t work. It didn’t work. He still wants me. She lets the impossible thought hand in the air as the moment freezes. He’s staring right at her; for as long as it takes to bat an eye, he’s staring. She catches the look, a connection, a moment, a shared thing. No doubt about it, she tells herself. He is trying to communicate with me, and me only. Right here at this table. But how can I be sure? How can I know it’s Lennox behind the smiles? Lennox, who I’d give up the world for?

  “Can you pass the sweet tea?” he asks, smiling.

  She sees the carafe of sweet tea so thick it’s like molasses. It’s filled to the top. She sees her hand move to the handle, a single thought filling her mind: please let him say it, please let him say the words, if he says it, I’ll know I’ll know I’ll know.

  She hands the tea to the person on her right, who passes it to him.

  Looking directly at her, he says, “You’re a life saver, Josie Bran. A life saver.”

  * * *

  Her food is tasteless, yet she continues to eat. She steals a few glances Lennox’s way. He never looks at her. Lunch passes so slowly she feels sick from the stress. She waits until the right time. She stands up, excuses herself, and walks away. She forces herself to walk slowly, even down the narrow corridor to the vestibule, even up the grand staircase, even all the way to her room.

  He said I’m a Life Saver. He used the words. But …

  Josie opens the door to her room and finds Christine waiting for her. She appears to have snuck away during lunch. But she skipped eating with everyone downstairs. Still, Christine looks put together and content.

  “Why did you let this happen?” Josie asks. She slams the door behind her. “Sorry. My nerves are shot.” Josie plods past Christine and flops on the window sill, where she often likes to think.

  “Let what happen, exactly?”

  “You know … the potion … the joining … Lennox and Stella, in love.”

  Christine runs a fingertip along Josie’s dresser, as if checking for dust. “This is a place where we rehab husbands, Josie.”

  “He said it to me, said I was a life saver. No one knows what that means but the two of us. He said it right to my face.”

  “Of course he did. I had a feeling he’d let you know. You’ve always been special to him, and always will be.”

  Josie cries out, the anxiety too much to bear. Christine is standing there, as if nothing has happened, as if her son isn’t joined to the meanest witch south of the Mason-Dixon. Her son, yes, the one she is supposed protect, was forced to love someone he doesn’t. Worse, the woman he wants to be with, Josie, had to help. What kind of mother would do such a thing? One who can stand there as solid as stone in a storm. One who may believe everything is as it should be.

  “Christine, what are you saying? The potion didn’t work … or something else?”

  “It worked.”

  “No …”

  “Lennox is safe, Josie. He’ll love Stella, even though she’s a manipulating, self-serving control freak. He’ll find the space he needs to practice the craft, which he also loves, away from High Priestess Dooley. He’ll be healthy, Josie. Isn’t that what’s most important? Secure and happy? You have no idea what could happen to him if he fell into the wrong hands.”

  “But he said the words.”

  “He meant them. You are a life saver. You saved his life, Josie.”

  Josie’s eyes well, and her heart feels like it might burst, seams opening, everything in her spilling onto the floor.

  Christine places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, someday, when the time is right, I’ll send for him. And we’ll see what we can do about his difficult wife. A widower can love again.”

  Through the tears, Josie tries to read Christine. “Are you suggesting …?”

  “Nothing at all. Now, let’s talk about Husband Rehab and the renovation of Birchall … “

  Josie ignores her as the words roll together. It’s so obvious now: Christine is content because she believes Lennox is safe. Josie has been the problem. She fell for a married man. She was brought to Birchall to fix wayward husbands, not steal them.

  But he said the words, Josie reminds herself.

  I guess I am a life saver. Just not the right kind.

  THE END

 

 

 
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