That Voodoo That You Do

by Ann Yost

  “Hey, sugar.”

  Lois. Dennis sagged in his chair then got up to unlock the office door. His shirt felt clammy, sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

  She slid a hand down her ample hips and leaned toward him. The movement caused her breasts to ripple under the fabric of her black wool dress. The movement reminded him of cold Jello and hot sex. His lower body flared to life, and he felt a tidal wave of relief.

  He needed oblivion and what better to get it than some hot church office sex?

  Lois held his gaze while she dropped a hand to his crotch and began to massage. Dennis moaned. She picked up his gun and pressed the barrel against his rapidly swelling fly.

  He twisted and moaned, the fear factor upping the ante on the sex. She climbed in his lap, and her breasts swayed pendulously against his face. It was like making love to an airbag. She removed the necessary clothing so she could join their bodies.

  “Ride ’em cowboy,” she said, swinging the gun in one lifted hand.

  “Be careful with that,” he rasped. “It’s loaded.”

  She jerked and twisted with practiced skill but she was heavy and he was on edge. After several long minutes she stilled.

  “I haven’t come yet,” he protested.

  “You’re taking too long.”

  It was the anxiety, the fear, but he didn’t want to admit it.

  Lois got to her feet. “I’m hungry. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Dennis’s mouth dropped open as he watched her saunter out the door. He wanted to grab his gun and shoot someone.

  He didn’t much care who.

  ****

  “It was a very nice funeral,” Monica said, as she helped herself to a glass of punch made out of a punch base, pineapple sherbet, and Sprite. “I like your friends a lot, Jessie.” She nodded at the Tuesday witches who were standing in a circle with Luke and Gillian.

  Jessie realized they were her friends—Mabel Ruth, Millicent, Maude, Francie, and Zach. She’d miss them when she left.

  “I am a little surprised though at the lack of seasonal decorations. Why, there are no greens at all in the sanctuary. Not even a sprig of holly.” She took a bite of a rich, chocolate brownie. She looked around the social hall. “There’s nothing here, either.”

  Jessie found herself wanting to defend the Mystic Hollow. “The town’s been preoccupied with the murders.”

  Monica munched, thoughtfully. “I like the way you’ve decorated Blanche’s.”

  “It’s just a start. I’ll get a tree tomorrow.”

  “That will look lovely, dear. Something tall and bushy for the bay window.”

  Jessie smiled at Monica. The sins of the canceled wedding were truly in the past. If her dad arrived, the Maynards could have a real Norman Rockwell Christmas.

  “Where is the reverend, Eleanor?” Jessie heard Hattie Bexler’s distinctive voice behind her. “I wanted to tell him what a nice service that was. Letty would have appreciated it.”

  “He felt a migraine coming on,” Eleanor apologized. “So he went home to bed. He wants to be in good shape for tomorrow.”

  Jessie was almost certain she’d seen a robed figure slip around the corner and up the stairs. Lois Epps was missing, too. Did Eleanor know about the affair? Was she lying to protect her husband?

  A harsh crash cut her musings short. It was followed by a collective gasp and an instant of shocked silence.

  ****

  One minute Francine was carrying a nearly empty crystal-cut punchbowl back to the kitchen for a refill, and the next the yellowish liquid stained the linoleum floor of the social hall. Half the broken bowl rolled under the serving table, and the other spun in place. Every eye was on the man who’d knocked the punchbowl out of her hands. Everyone heard his angry growl.

  “That’s too heavy for you to carry.”

  For a moment Jessie was touched by Zach’s concern, but when she saw Francie’s chocolate eyes flash with fury, she realized it was something else.

  “You mean because I’m pregnant?”

  Francie’s response was loud and clear, and everyone in the room froze. Except Zach. He didn’t appear at all embarrassed.

  “Yeah. Because you’re pregnant.”

  Francine kept her head high as she walked past her stunned friends and neighbors, the townspeople who had been her extended family since her mother’s death. She marched into the kitchen and returned with a mop and a bucket which she thrust into Zach’s big hands.

  “Looks like you’ve got some cleanup.”

  No one moved as she headed for the door. Jessie caught up with her in the parking lot. She put her arm around the taller woman.

  “He’s trying to force my hand,” Francie sobbed.

  Jessie felt a strong male hand move her gently aside. She watched as Zach settled his leather jacket around Francine’s shoulders. His voice was so tender Jessie barely recognized it.

  “I’m sorry, Frannie.”

  Francie looked up at him. “Then why’d you do it?”

  Jessie watched him pin Francine with a hooded gaze. The scene was so intimate and she had no business being there but excusing herself would be even more intrusive.

  “I did it because I didn’t want anybody thinking your baby belongs to someone else.”

  Fresh tears coursed down Francie’s pale face, but her tone was matter-of-fact. “No one would think that, Zach. No one but you.”

  Zach didn’t let go of her. “Come on,” he said, stiffly. “I’ll take you home.”

  Jessie was thoughtful as she watched them go. They cared deeply about one another but Zach was stubborn and Francie was proud. Maybe in time they’d talk this out and live happily ever after. Jessie hoped so.

  ****

  Ignoring her conscience, Jessie sent Luke, Kit, her mother, and sister back to the witch hat house while she helped Eleanor clean up the kitchen. Finally, she convinced the older woman to leave, too.

  For about ten minutes, Jessie puttered around the industrial kitchen that had once been used for community potlucks. She wanted to make sure there were no witnesses when she left the side door unlatched.

  The instant she stepped into the darkened parking lot, she inhaled a woodsy scent, and her heart jerked crazily. Luke stepped out of the shadows.

  “You came back for me?”

  His grin was crooked and so appealing. “I figured it was the least I could do. If things had gone differently, this would have been our wedding night.”

  Her reaction was predictable. Heat suffused her body.

  He took her arm. “C’mon, Jess. You’ve gotta admit we’ve got chemistry.”

  “No argument. But that’s not a good enough reason to marry.”

  “I agree. Marriage is just the cost of doing business in Mystic Hollow.” The cynicism hurt.

  “Besides, I think we’d do pretty well together.”

  Not really the proposal she was looking for, but she was determined to let it go. It was, after all, the night before the night before Christmas. She linked her arm in his. “I’d like to get a tree tomorrow,” she said.

  “A tree.”

  She nodded. “A ten-foot white pine. It would look perfect right there.” She pointed to the bay window as they approached the house. Luke’s silence didn’t surprise her. Luke Tanner didn’t seem like a man interested in Christmas trees, white pines or otherwise.

  He paused on the porch just before he opened the door. Then he took her in his arms and pressed his lips very gently against hers. The kiss was so sweet it made her want to cry but not as much as his next words.

  “You’re an interesting woman, Jessie Maynard. If a tree will make you happy, we’ll get a tree.”

  She touched his face and then stepped back as he opened the door. All the lights were on. The house was warm and welcoming, and the sound of laughter drifted into the foyer. The Maynards had gathered in the parlor.

  Jessie caught the sound of a familiar baritone.

  “Dad!” She dashed through th
e French doors to the parlor and into his big, comforting arms. She’d always had a special relationship with Howard. He’d always seemed indestructible until last year’s heart attack. She remembered now why she’d agreed to marry Kit.

  “Merry Christmas, baby.”

  “When did you get here?”

  He paused. “A few minutes ago.”

  “Good trip?”

  “Just a short snow delay at O’Hare. I rented a car in Roanoke.”

  When they stopped talking, the room seemed unnaturally quiet. What had happened to all the talking and laughing? She stepped out of her father’s embrace but stayed by his side. Her gaze riveted on Luke. He looked different somehow. His dark features were frozen into an expression of wonder, as if he’d just witnessed the Second Coming.

  Jessie realized then there was another person in the room. Her stomach clenched and at a gut level she knew, even before her brain processed it, who it was. The woman from the wedding photo but so much more beautiful in person. Jessie gasped as she took in the tall, willowy figure with the shining blonde hair, the high cheekbones, the perfectly proportioned nose and the full sensuous mouth. Rosy lips. Most striking of all were her eyes. They were the color of light purple jewels, amethysts.

  Frankly, she didn’t look like a real person. She looked like an angel. Or a goddess.

  The introduction came from an unlikely source.

  “This is Crystal,” Howard said. “I gave her a ride from the airport.”

  Jessie blinked and studied the woman.

  Crystal clearly bought into the image of herself as a goddess. She wore a loose-weave white wool sweater paired with a white wool, ankle-length skirt. Everything about her was light, silvery, crystal-like. Incandescent.

  Jessie looked at Luke and saw him jerk his gaze away from the beauty. It felt like someone had stomped on her soul.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, finally. “Welcome to our home.”

  Crystal’s smile was blinding, but one of her delicate eyebrows lifted in question.

  “Our home,” Luke said, firmly.

  Jessie thought she detected a bit of hoarseness in that deep voice.

  “Jessie’s and mine. We’re engaged to be married.”

  The smile didn’t waver. “Congratulations,” she said. She glided up to Jessie and bussed her lightly on each cheek. “I guess this means we’re related.”

  Jessie didn’t see how an ex-wife and a fake fiancée equated to family, but she held her own smile. At least she held it until Crystal went close to Luke. She twined her long arms around his neck and rubbed her cheek against his. Jessie felt a spasm of pain when she saw Luke’s hands on the goddess’s narrow waist. The kiss the two shared looked like a scene from a film. That final scene, when the couple comes together for happily-ever-after.

  Finally, just when Jessie thought she couldn’t stand it another minute, Luke broke the kiss.

  Crystal turned to the gaping Maynards. “I’ve come a long way to see Luke,” she said, in a quiet voice. “If you’ll excuse us, we have some unfinished business.”

  Luke shook his head. “No,” he said.

  “Yes,” Jessie said.

  She knew what had to be done. She grabbed Luke’s hand.

  “We’ll be right back,” she said. She was half afraid he’d break loose, but he didn’t. He followed her down the hallway to Blanche’s study. When they got there, Jessie peered into his face. It was a mask of confused emotions.

  “I didn’t know she was coming,” Luke said.

  “You have to talk to her.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you want to know what she wants?”

  “No.”

  She knew he wanted to avoid spending time alone with Crystal because he was still vulnerable to her.

  “How long were you married, Luke?”

  “Three years. A little less.”

  Jessie swallowed and said what she had to say. “She’s right, you know. You and Crystal do have unfinished business.”

  ****

  Blanche’s study welcomed him the way it always had. He loved the heavy walnut desk, the ceiling-high stacks of books, the faint scent of vanilla that reminded him of the old lady. He snapped on the green-shaded desk lamp. It cast a low light in the room. Crystal sat in a chintz covered loveseat while he took a facing chair. He hadn’t felt that old destructive magic yet, but there was no sense taking chances.

  He stared at the incomparable features across from him. The face that had broken a thousand hearts. He’d wondered, during the hell he’d lived and relived after the divorce, why beauty made such a difference. Was man just wired to respond to full lips, a narrow waist, long legs, and artistically arranged features? What was it about a pair of glands in a well-constructed push-up bra that had men salivating? And the eyes? That made more sense. If they were the windows to the soul, Crystal’s soul was clear, pure and rare.

  It wasn’t true. Eyes were just eyes. Breasts were just breasts. Lips were just lips. Every woman had ’em.

  He had to keep his mind on that fact. “I’m glad you came.”

  She smiled her goddess’s smile.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blanche Maynard’s parlor was filled with holiday scents and sounds from crab puffs to laughter. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Howard and Monica Maynard, while occasionally joining in the general talk, spent many minutes together on Blanche’s Victorian sofa, their foreheads touching, their voices low.

  Kit was the master of ceremonies, freshening drinks, encouraging the fire, and telling funny anecdotes that had Gillian rolling on the floor. Pyewacket and her offspring dozed in the warm room, apparently not minding the invasion of humans. Jessie sat in Blanche’s rocker. She didn’t allow herself to pace or fret or reveal in any way that Luke’s tete-a-tete with Crystal was tearing her heart out.

  When Kit excused himself to make a new batch of eggnog, Gillian moved closer to Jessie.

  “You worried?”

  “I just don’t want to see him fall into her clutches again.”

  Gillian made a sympathetic sound. “Ah, Jess. You know, I figured if you ever fell for a guy you’d be a head-over-heels kind of girl.”

  “It’s not that. Well,” she had to be honest, “not just that. She’s not good enough for him.”

  “You mean under that breathtaking beauty beats a heart of pure evil?”

  Jessie smiled as Gillian had meant her to. “She broke up with him in a ‘Dear John’ e-mail. She was cheating on him with one of his best friends. Need I say more?”

  “Geez.” Gillian shook her head. “But you saw the way he looked at her.”

  “Yeah.”

  “In all fairness, Dad and Kit looked at her like that, too. I imagine all men do.”

  Jessie shook her head. “This is different.

  Luke married her.”

  “What happened to the ‘best friend?’”

  “That’s just the problem. He died recently. I think Crystal wants to try a reconciliation.”

  Gillian appeared to consider that. “He seemed awfully interested in you. At least he did before she arrived.”

  It was a dispiriting reminder. “Between us, that’s mostly duty with a little chemistry thrown in.”

  “Maybe you represent a fresh start for him,” Gillian offered. “A future without a lot of baggage.”

  “Maybe I was safe. If he’s committed to me, he never has to really examine his feelings about her. He can just bury them.”

  Gillian glanced down the corridor toward the study. “Wonder what they’re ‘examining’ now.”

  Jessie thought of the exquisite creature undoubtedly making overtures to Luke. He wouldn’t accept them because of her, Jessie. Not that there were strings between them, but Luke had a very strong sense of honor.

  It wasn’t sex she feared. She sighed, heavily. “Love is hard to kill off.” As she was just beginning to discover.

  One divorced couple, Luke and Crystal, still hadn’
t reappeared when the other divorced couple, Howard and Monica, excused themselves for the night. Jessie knew they’d stay together because there were only a limited number of rooms. And because Howard held his ex-wife’s hand as he led her up the stairs.

  Jessie and Gillian watched them go.

  “You know,” Jessie said, thoughtfully, “maybe this trek to Virginia is less about my wedding and more about getting a chance to get Dad away from the office.”

  “Let’s hope they get re-hitched,” Gilly said. “That way at least we’ll be able to make use of that ice sculpture.”

  The women joined Kit in the kitchen where he was cleaning up the dishes. He stood at the sink, a dishtowel tied around his waist.

  “You’ll make someone the perfect wife,”

  Gillian joked.

  Kit glanced at Jessie. “I am available.”

  Gillian and Kit bantered while the trio cleaned up, and then Gillian excused herself.

  Kit moved close to Jessie and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You all right, honey?”

  The genuine concern in his voice touched Jessie. The shock of his betrayal had knocked all the good qualities out of her head. She remembered now. He always had been a decent guy. They just hadn’t been in love.

  “I’m fine. It’s nice to have you here,” she said, impulsively. “I’m just going to lock up and turn in.”

  The blue eyes held her for a long moment. “You’re not gonna change your mind, are yo Jess?”

  “No.”

  “And it’s not just about that fiasco at the Happy Taco, is it?”

  She shook her head. It was a relief to have him understand.

  “I’m so incredibly sorry,” he said, as though he meant it. He pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “See you in the a.m.”

  Jessie sat down at the wicker table after he’d left. It felt good to have things straightened out with Kit. It felt good to have her family here for the holiday.

  It did not feel good to know Luke and Crystal were apparently going to “talk” all night. She reminded herself that it wasn’t her business, but it didn’t help. A weight, as heavy as a coffin, pressed against her heart.