by Tess Lake
I sat there looking at the journal, willing myself to get up, to take it back to my car, to drive out to Hattie’s, to tell her that it wasn’t just a journal of eggs and bread, but one detailing that her ancestor Juliet had at least at one stage been hunting witches and perhaps other supernatural things. That she’d had another baby possibly. Maybe Hattie knew who Benjamin was or could shed some light on the subject.
But on the other hand, perhaps the entries were only intended for me. Perhaps the journal would only show it to someone it trusted and if I went to see Hattie I would learn nothing more about the past. It would remain opaque to me. I should continue to dig on my own, to visit my lair and look for holes.
Should I trust Hattie? How was I to know the journal entries were truthful? I knew that she was an enormously powerful witch and yes, although the journal had proved useful that could be a trick for something far worse to come.
I put the journal down, my mind swirling with confusion and conflicting desires, and made an abrupt decision to go outside to get away from the wall of crazy and the journal. I walked away from the cottage until I found a grassy area with warm sun beaming. Nearby were the remnants of another old cottage that seriously looked like it had been exploded in the past. There were large bricks and cobblestones scattered all over the place, some of them buried in the earth, grass growing over them. I sat there in the sun with my eyes closed, feeling the warmth of it beating down on me, and took long slow breaths. For some reason the salamander came to mind. Jack and I had been out again collecting water samples for Aunt Cass, and I’d been out with Molly and Luce on another night, definitely burning the candle at both ends. After we broke into the Magic Bean and setting off the alarm and then being subsequently warned by Sheriff Hardy, my cousins hadn’t mentioned the Magic Bean and their so-called magic sandwiches again. With them opening up the Traveler Cafe they were both too exhausted to talk when they came home, although I was sure that they were still planning to do something about discovering magic in the mayonnaise. I can tell you this: going down into stormwater drains to collect water samples late at night certainly wasn’t the kind of magical glamorous thing you might think a witch would be doing. It was dirty and, frankly, boring. Aunt Cass was adding the strips to her water map but every time we asked if we’d had enough to find where the salamander had made its nest, she told us just to keep collecting samples and she’d let us know.
It wasn’t exciting at all and it seemed to me the end of that particular adventure would simply be Aunt Cass going down to the drains and then emerging with some little lizard creature stuffed in a cage or something like that. It would be good to take it away from Harlot Bay, given it was possibly causing love everywhere.
I opened my eyes and looked up to the beautiful blue sky above me. It wouldn’t be long before I’d have to get going to go back to rehearsal. The morning had raised more questions than it had answered and I felt adrift, floating along with no particular direction. Once again, I realized that much like working as a police officer, there was only so far an investigation could take you and then the rest of the time was often just waiting for something to happen, hoping you would catch someone in the act, that there would be a witness, that there would be some new development.
I looked back at the wrecked cottage and the scattered stones, following the trail of them to one that was sitting near my feet. There was moss growing on it and at some point in the past, someone had carved the word ‘LOST’ into the stone. It was the perfect description of how I felt right now. I leaned forward and patted the stone, feeling it was slightly warm from the sun.
“You and me both, buddy,” I told the stone.
Chapter 15
“I kind of wish they hadn’t changed the name. In my memory it’s Cool Blades and it’s going to stay Cool Blades forever. The place you take boys and then you kiss them,” Peta said, putting her hands on hips and sighing, looking up at the giant glowing sign that now read Harlot Bay Ice-Skating Rink and Entertainment Center.
“Oh, really? The place to take boys and kiss them? How many boys have you kissed here?” Jonas asked, poking Peta in the ribs.
“Ah memories,” Peta said, laughing.
Jack got out of the car and we all walked up to the doors of the newly rebuilt ice-skating rink. It had been under reconstruction for quite some time, but it finally reopened just a few days ago. Between the theater and Jack working doing carpentry, the protesters at the mansion, and everything else that was going on, it seemed like the last couple of days had gone by in a blur.
I had completely forgotten that we had planned to come ice-skating until Jack had reminded me.
Standing in front of the newly refurbished ice-skating rink I felt a familiar relaxation come over me. Yes, the outside did look different, the old buzzing sign proclaiming Cool Blades that only worked about fifty percent of the time was gone and I’m sure the inside was different too, but there was a familiarity to it. During summers we’d practically lived at the ice-skating rink, being one of the coolest places literally and figuratively to hang out.
“So is that your plan too? Take me here, kiss me, add me to your list of conquests at the ice-skating rink?” Jack asked, poking me in the ribs too. “How many boys have you added to your list here?”
I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside the doors, Jonas and Peta following, and then turned around and planted a kiss on his lips.
“Just one. There we go, you’re the only boy I’ve kissed here,” I said.
“What are you talking about, Torrent? There was Ben, there was Ryan, what was that guy with the red hair called?” said Peta.
I gave her poke in the stomach.
“Lists of names are not helpful here because I also have a list of names myself that I could start reading out couldn’t I? Like Stephen or Anthony or that guy who had a mustache, even though he was fourteen,” I said to Peta.
We went into the ice-skating rink and paid at the new and improved counter, which was shiny and beautiful, as opposed to the way it had been in the past, which was old and rundown with various unidentified stains on it. The chill of the room was quite relaxing.
We paid for our skates and then sat down on the staggered benches, lacing them up.
“So you two think you can out-skate us?” I asked Jack and Jonas.
“Definitely,” said Jonas.
“Absolutely no doubt about it. After all, we grew up in Canada and up there it’s the law. You have to skate or you get a very polite telling off,” Jack said.
“When we get out there, let’s have a race,” Peta said. “Loser buys the snacks.”
“I hope you brought some money coz I’m in the mood for about ten hotdogs,” Jack said.
I stepped onto the ice and gave a few tentative pushes. It had been awhile, but the muscle memory was still there, and I soon found my groove, gracefully sliding across the ice. When they’d renovated Cool Blades, they’d gone top to bottom. The ice-skating rink was much larger, the seating was better, and off to the side were large double doors the led out to a multi-room entertainment area. There were three birthday parties taking place out there already.
Jack skated up beside me and took my hand. We did a couple of laps, dodging around slower people, not talking and just enjoying the old music that was playing and the atmosphere.
Just last night as Jack and I had laid in bed, both of us fairly exhausted, he suggested in a quiet voice that perhaps nothing else was going to happen to the production, that whoever it was had been scared off by the guards and maybe now it was just time to focus on how both of us wanted to live. It was a sort of odd conversation. I was too sleepy to get much into it, but I realized Jack wasn’t merely talking about what we should do in the next few days but was starting a longer conversation that was really about what we were to do together over the rest of our life.
It’s the funny thing about engagements and relationships - although there were times when an engagement came as a surprise, the fact was tha
t most of the time there had been a lot of conversation leading up to it. Even Luce had admitted that she and Will had talked around topics such as what kind of house do you think you’d want to live in without actually saying what kind of house do you want to live in with me? Molly and Ollie had done the same. It was that slow movement as two lives came close together and began integrating. First, you start leaving clothes at their house and then you had a cup and a toothbrush, and soon you knew where their towels lived and you were washing the dishes. As I skated with Jack around the rink, honestly it sounded quite delightful.
“Okay, are you suckers ready to lose?” Peta asked, skating up behind us.
“Three laps from the red pole, loser buys the food,” I said.
I let go of Jack’s hand and took my place next to Peta. We zoomed around another lap until we passed the red pole that was on the side of the rink, and then we took off. There were a few people on the rink, but it was mostly clear, the partygoers still out eating cake.
“Ha, ha, we’re gonna win!” I called out as Peta and I took off, opening up a lead. Our glee only lasted about half a lap before Jack and Jonas blurred past us like they’d been shot out of a canon. They sprinted, zipping down the straight and around the bend and coming up around again. Both of us went as fast as we could and I admit we put on a pretty good show to try to keep up, but by the time Jack and Jonas passed the finish line we were almost three-quarters of a lap behind. Peta and I slid past the red pole in disbelief. When we’d been teenagers we’d pulled this game plenty of times on teenage boys, racing them and the loser had to buy the food. We were so good that I don’t think either of us ever had to pay for a hot dog or a plate of nachos at Cool Blades.
We slid to a stop by the boys. Jack and Jonas were leaning up against the wall, chatting to each other as though no big deal, we weren’t just racing at high speed.
“I want to see those ice skates, see if they’re regulation,” Peta said, pointing a finger at Jonas.
“I think the two of you are on performance enhancing drugs. You were raised in Canada weren’t you? You’re on performance enhancing Maple syrup or something,” I said.
We gave our respective boyfriends kisses and mucked around before heading out for more skating. Eventually the rink grew more crowded as some of the parties finished up cutting cake and teenagers and children streamed out onto the ice. We eventually slid off, took off our skates, and headed over to the snack bar where we ordered nachos drenched in cheese served with guacamole and jalapeno, and also a round of sodas.
Soon we were sitting at one of the booths eating the food and reminiscing about what Cool Blades had been like when we were teenagers. Jack and Jonas told us they’d had a similar place that they had gone to throughout their childhood and teenage years although they declined to elaborate exactly how many girls they had kissed there.
We ate and talked, the topics gradually straying onto work and other adult things. Although it felt we were somewhat reliving our teenage past, the teenage topics of who was kissing whom or what was going on at school weren’t of interest to us. Peta and I talked a bit about the play but then we started talking to Jonas about his real estate development business.
“I get the feeling that someone is actively trying to stop me developing the Governor’s mansion and I’ll give you two guesses who I think it is,” Jonas said.
“Does his name rhyme with Moldwell?” I said and then Peta and I snickered.
“Got it in one. I swear that guy must have the dirt on everyone in a position of power in this town,” Jonas said.
Jonas had been working for months to develop the Governor’s mansion that was out on Truer Island. The building was in that weird limbo where it was slowly aging and breaking down and it was important historically and should be saved, but at the same time people feared development because it might ruin something… that time was slowly ruining anyway. Jonas had put in plans to restore the mansion and to open it as a museum with a small attached gift shop, and possibly even rent out some of the rooms as a bed-and-breakfast. It was a fairly uncontroversial plan and one that would certainly save the mansion from ruin, but it seems he had been stymied along the way by councilors bringing up odd objections like what would he do to stop guests breaking windows?
We continued talking about his business and Coldwell and eventually got to the mall which had been rushed through. Jack had told Jonas that he discovered one of the councilors had moved into a quite nice house at quite a low rent that was owned by Coldwell so Jonas knew there was possibly some bribery taking place. As we started talking about the mall though, Jonas went from fairly cheerful to spiking angry.
“The guy’s gonna ruin Harlot Bay. There’s no way a mall is going to be good for any business whatsoever. There’s just not the population. It’s going to be a disaster,” he said, dipping his nacho chip so fast into the cheese it snapped off.
“If it’s approved does that mean it’s just going to go ahead or is there something you can do about it?” I asked.
“Sure, there are a lot of things we can do about it, but honestly, Coldwell needs to be beaten with an iron bar and forced to stop,” Jonas said.
Peta and I shared a glance. Jonas didn’t sound like he was joking. There was the slightest moment of awkward pause.
“Or we could not threaten to kill the rival real estate developer,” Jack said, trying to make a joke.
Jonas sighed and then took a sip of his soda. “It’s a joke… the guy just makes me angry. I’ve dealt with people like him so many times, slippery and slimy, and they always work outside the law. It makes it hard to be a legitimate developer because no one trusts you. If Coldwell was developing the Governor’s mansion, you can guarantee he would tell them he would keep it the way it was and then he would ruin it, and then afterward say whoops, sorry, and not care one bit. I mean, I presented a plan where we’d be using locally recovered hardwood from buildings of the same age that had been knocked down so that we could keep it precisely the way it was. Anyway, let’s stop talking about that guy and get back out on the ice,” Jonas said.
We all agreed with that, finished up our meal, and headed back out onto the ice for more skating. I quickly forgot about Coldwell, the rhythmic motion of pushing myself across the ice soothing me. Despite the music and the chattering teenagers around me, it felt quiet and cool, like sitting in the library amongst the papers. It seemed the last weeks had been a rush of increasing madness and with Aunt Ro and Sheriff Hardy’s wedding quickly approaching, the protesters staying at the Torrent mansion and everything else, I knew as soon as I left I would return to that madness. But for the meantime I was content to skate and not think about it.
Jack came up beside me and took my hand.
“You know, he’s not serious about that. He wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Jack said.
“I know. Besides, I don’t entirely disagree. I think I would’ve said Coldwell should be beaten with a stick or maybe a block of cheese, just for fun,” I said.
“He’s upset because someone broke into his house a few nights ago. They took some cash and left everything else. He’s been a bit on edge because of course he’s trying to work out the thing with the Governor’s mansion and then someone broke into his house. We both know how Coldwell is so although I think it was probably just a stupid teenager, it has been on his mind,” Jack explained.
I nodded, not entirely sure what to say. As Jack mentioned him thinking it was possibly a “stupid teenager” I thought of Amaris and her telling the boys to steal something for her. I wonder if one of them had been stupid enough to steal some cash from a random house that had turned out to belong to Jonas. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that it was Coldwell behind it. It would be exactly the type of thing he would do, some low-level harassment to scare Jonas.
We kept skating, me holding Jack’s hand, and soon I let go of Coldwell possibly breaking into Jonas’s house. I had a quiet, comforting moment right now and I decided to hold onto it.
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br /> Chapter 16
“Do you have a plan for what you’re going to do once the play closes?” Peta asked, starting up her car.
I got in the passenger seat and closed the door, gazing out at the protesters across the road in front of the theater who were now shouting and stomping around, seeming to get more angry with every passing day.
“Nope. I guess I could bite the bullet and work for Carter. It seems like there’s plenty of news to report in town. How about you?”
Peta reversed and then we took off down the street, the sound of the protesters fading into the distance.
“I’m the same. I don’t have a plan. It was good working at the cafe.”
“You know, Molly and Luce do need help,” I suggested.
“Maybe that then?” Peta said. “You can work too. Every café needs a hot waitress,” she joked.
“A few shifts from my cousins, some from the moms, my diminishing part-time job at the library and I might be able to put together a basic minimum wage job out of it,” I said, sounding far more gloomy than I meant to be.
“Are you still working on your story? The one with the ghost?”
“Sort of. I mean, I work on it when I have free time which at the moment is never so I guess I’m still technically working on it. It’s probably been a couple of weeks now,” I said.
I didn’t want to tell Peta the truth which was that I felt pretty much like the ghost character in my story, floating around town, seeing life passing by.
I’m sorry, that sounds dark! It’s just there had been a feeling building up inside of me over the days. I don’t know, maybe connected to Aunt Ro and Sheriff Hardy getting married? Maybe it was connected to seeing Cool Blades turned into the Harlot Bay Ice Skating Rink and Entertainment Center. Everything was changing and it would continue to change, whether I wanted it to or not. I felt that I was being pulled along by events rather than driving them, a passenger in my own life.