I squirmed free of his touch, annoyed by the weight of his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve got to go.”
“Where?” he challenged. “You can’t leave like this, Addie.”
The place suddenly felt too small, the air too stale. “I can’t stay here right now. I can’t talk to you about this.”
“Look, you’re tired.” His was the tone someone used with a child. “Your emotions are all out of whack. When’s the last time you slept a solid eight hours?”
“It’s been a really long time. In fact, I can’t remember. And maybe sleep will do it for me. Maybe I’ll lay my head down and wake up and realize that your helping Janet take the baby from me was a good thing.”
His eyes darkened with a knowing that was absolute to him. “You’re going to thank me.”
November 1, 1751
Dr. Goodwin petitioned the courts to have Faith examined for signs of witchcraft. Mistress Smyth asked me to join her in this arduous task. I hesitated, but Mistress Smyth told me this was my duty. Mistress Smyth said Faith’s evil magic killed Talbot and likely her husband, the captain. Two good men destroyed by black magic.
When I arrived at the Smyths house for the examination, Faith was there, wide-eyed and pale. Her hair framed her face in a wild, fiery halo. It took two men to restrain Faith so that we could examine her.
When she was told her children would be taken if she didn’t comply, she ceased fighting and agreed to inspection. We found no signs of a witch. When Faith dressed, her face was hard and angry and my fears of her were renewed.
Without a word, I knew she levied a terrible curse on all of us.
Chapter Twenty-four
When I drove away from the vineyard, I realized I didn’t have any place to go. I had no real friends outside of the vineyard or the salvage yard, and since I knew I’d not return to the vineyard, I followed the pull of Old Town and wound along the country roads, highways, and finally the interstate. By the time I parked in the warehouse alley, it was seven in the evening. The day’s temperatures rose above ninety and still, even with the sun dipping lower, the air was thick with heat. A warm breeze from the river brushed my skin in welcome.
Keys in hand, I grabbed my bag and climbed the steps to the apartment. Grace sat in her rocker by the fireplace, staring out the window through the trees toward the river.
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” she said without turning.
“I went to the vineyard.” I set my bag down. “It didn’t feel right anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Too quiet.”
“It’s too quiet here. I keep thinking I have to look in on the baby but the cradle is empty. Feels wrong.”
I sat on the couch, absently fingering my keys and the fob, now warm with energy. “Have you heard from Janet?”
Grace faced me. “It’s only been a half day.”
“I thought she might have questions.”
When she shrugged her shoulders looked thinner, more fragile. “She should know how to care for a baby. She took care of Eric.”
“Yes.” After a lifetime resenting being needed, I now missed it. “Never thought about it, but she does have more experience.”
Restless, I rose and moved toward the mantel and looked at the collection of papers. My gaze settled on the old witch bottle. “Margaret returned it.”
“Yes. About lunchtime. She x-rayed it. Was excited to tell you about something, but I told her you were gone.”
“Did she say what it was?”
“That fellow she knew in Scotland found records of our ancestor, Sarah Goodwin. Turns out she was born a Shire.”
“A Shire. Like Faith.”
“This guy found an old church Bible. Listed Sarah and several other siblings born to an Owen Shire. Also listed a bastard child, Faith. And in the court records there was a Faith Shire condemned of witchcraft and sent to the Americas.”
I traced the outline of the bottle with my finger. “Faith and Sarah were sisters?”
“Looks like it.”
“One sister came in bondage and the other as a bride. It makes sense that Sarah would fear Faith. Sarah marries a doctor who is trying to make his mark in the world and she discovers her sister the witch is at her doorstep.”
“Seems you or I don’t have a lock on sisterly relationships.”
I tried to peer through the bottle’s dark glass so I could glimpse the contents. “She didn’t tell you about the bottle?”
“I didn’t ask, and she didn’t offer. What’s in the bottle really doesn’t matter.”
I picked up the bottle and held it up to the evening light streaming through the front window. It remained stubbornly dark, refusing to let me peek inside. Figures. Shut out again. I set it back on the mantel but for whatever reason did not settle it squarely on the wooden surface. As I released the neck, the bottle quickly tipped and plunged forward. I lunged to catch it, but it hit the brick hearth and in a blink shattered in a dozen pieces.
I knelt down, my hands hovering over the shards. “Shit! I’m so sorry, Grace.”
Grace looked up. “It’s okay, honey. It’s an old bottle.”
“It’s an antique.” I plucked at the broken pieces, the four nails, a coin, a lock of hair tied in a faded red ribbon, and a rolled up piece of paper. “Shit.” My hands hovered over the glass. “I’m sorry.”
Grace pushed out of her chair. “Stop saying you’re sorry. Let me get a bag, and we can bundle it up. Margaret will be excited to see the contents.”
I sat back on my haunches wondering if I could do anything right. “Margaret will be upset it’s broken. Its value lies in the fact that it was unbroken.”
“It’s a bottle, Addie.” She handed me a grocery store plastic bag. “It’s a bottle.”
Carefully, I loaded all the glass pieces into the bag. I reached for the scroll, fingering the delicate paper.
Grace handed me a wad of paper towels and I wiped up the liquid on the floor. “Stop fretting.”
Tears choked in my throat and I thought at that moment I’d break. “Grace, I’d like to stay here for a while.”
“Really?” No missing the hope.
“Yeah.” I spoke with more authority. “Think I can make something out of this business again.”
She rested a fist on her bony hip. “What about Scotty-boy? Sounds to me like he enjoyed having you run his vineyard.”
Scotty-boy. If it weren’t all so sad, I’d have laughed. “We’re on a very, very long break.”
“Why?” She sounded almost happy.
“He hired Janet’s attorney.”
Grace grunted. “Ass.”
I fingered the edges of the scroll’s brittle paper. “I’d like to think he thought he was doing me a favor.”
She muttered an oath. “I’d like to think dogs can fly, but that don’t make it true. What’s the note say?”
Frowning, I unfurled the scroll. Delicate script writing covered the page. I read the note out loud. “Protect me from Faith—my sister is my curse.”
“Faith,” Grace said. “The witch?”
“If Sarah Goodwin and Faith were sisters, it makes sense this would be her bottle.”
Grace shook her head. “Seems amazing that my mother found that bottle and it has just been sitting here for decades.”
“Protect me from Faith—my sister is my curse,” I repeated.
Grace shook her head. “No truer words have been written.”
As I picked up the remains of the bottle’s contents and lowered them in the bag, steady footsteps sounded on the staircase and I turned to see Zeb standing in the doorway. Grace took the bag and made an excuse about checking inventory. She was gone before either of us could comment.
“I thought you left,” he said.
“I did for a while. Thanks, again,” I sa
id to Zeb.
“I wish it were enough.” He crossed the room, stopping feet short from me. “Where did you go?”
“The vineyard.” I tried to smile and not look as lost as I felt. “Scott proposed.”
A frown furrowed his brow. “He did?”
“I said yes.” I held up my naked left hand. “And then I said no.”
“Why?”
“He paid for Janet’s attorney. He was proud of himself.”
“Dumbass.”
“You sound like Grace.”
He grunted approval. “She’s a smart woman.”
I wanted to think Scott wasn’t evil. “I really think he wanted to do what he thought was best.”
Zeb shook his head. “He had no right.”
“I’ve no right to throw stones.” I dropped the walls I’d built so carefully around me. “I’ve made choices that didn’t include him.”
“You were taking care of your sister’s child.”
I shook my head. “It’s more complicated. See, I had my tubes tied ten years ago. It was right after Mom killed herself. I swore I’d never risk passing the curse on to a child. Scott said over and over he wasn’t ready for children. I should have told him about the surgery but I thought I’d be enough.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve spent a life running from this place, my past, and that secret. I figured going forward, I’m putting it all out on the table.”
His frown didn’t soften. “That’s a hell of a choice to make.”
“It is. And maybe one day I’ll regret it, but not now and likely not tomorrow. It was the right thing to do for me.”
A heavy silence hovered between us. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to stay for a while. Help Grace. This place is perfect for a cast-off. And that about describes me right now.”
He hovered close enough that I could feel the energy radiating from his body, but he made no move to touch me. “You’re not a cast-off, Addie.”
I looked up at him. “Okay, maybe not a cast-off, but I’m in need of rescuing. A second chance.”
He shook his head. “You are the rescuer. You don’t need anyone’s help. You’ve proved that thousands of times.”
We stood close, barely inches apart, and the energy hummed between us. It pulled. Beckoned us to touch. But neither of us moved.
He shoved out a ragged breath and jabbed his thumb toward the door. “I’ve got to go pick up Eric. He’s at my mom’s. I just wanted to check in with you.”
Sliding my hands into my pockets so that I wouldn’t be tempted to touch him, I nodded. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking.”
He lingered an extra beat. “I’m glad you’re staying.”
With so much lost, it didn’t make sense that I felt okay with being back. “Me, too.”
He turned and walked from the house. I stood listening to the steady thud of his feet on the hardwood and the creak of the door hinges as it closed.
I swore I’d never return to the salvage yard or embrace family. And I did. And now I was alone.
That should have been reason enough to drink or at least cry. And maybe I would soon. But I needed sleep. I needed to wake up clear-eyed and rested.
Maybe I would be glad Scott intervened, but not likely. I thought I loved him and he loved me, but neither of us trusted that love with the truth.
In my room, I kicked off my shoes and stared at the portrait of the stern woman. As always, she glared as I sat on my bed. “Save it, old lady. I’m not in the mood.”
My muscles ached and my head throbbed as I slowly lowered myself to the pillow. I kicked off my shoes and raised my feet onto the bed. Years of overplanning, and now I had no idea what was next.
November 5, 1751
Mistress Smyth, Mistress McDonald, and I gathered in secret. Each of us brought a bottle, nails, and scrolls of paper, but the purpose for these items must remain a secret. Faith left town with her sons. Her whereabouts are unknown but we all still fear her dark magic.
Chapter Twenty-five
When Grace jostled me awake in the morning, the sun was bright and glaring. I sat up quickly, half expecting to hear Carrie’s cries and ready to make a bottle. I was on my feet when I realized Carrie wasn’t here. She was with Janet. Loss swept over me, hot and searing, and I wondered if it would cool in time.
Blinking, I pushed the hair from my eyes and looked at Grace. “What? Is something wrong?”
She was dressed and looked as if she rose hours ago. “No. Figured you’d better wake up. Janet is outside.”
“What?” I rubbed my eyes, struggling to gain my bearings.
“She’s sitting in a car, and the baby is in the backseat.”
I reached for my shorts and pulled them on. “Why is she outside?”
Grace rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Figured you better go find out.”
I tugged on a T-shirt and, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I glanced at the clock on the wall. I’d slept for thirteen hours.
Slipping on my shoes, I made my way to the parking lot. Janet sat in the driver’s seat, both her hands gripping the wheel. Carrie was in her car seat, crying.
I knocked on the window and Janet started. She opened the car door. The baby’s cries rushed out with her. Her hair had lost its gloss and her skin looked pale. “Have you taken your medicine?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Automatically, I opened the back door and pulled the baby free of the car seat. Resting Carrie on my shoulder, I patted her on the back. Slowly, she quieted. “Rough night?”
With a trembling hand, Janet reached for a cigarette and a lighter. She lit the tip and inhaled deeply. “She’s not an easy baby. Eric was easy.”
Carrie’s cries softened to intermittent moans. “She’s a handful.”
She jabbed shaking fingers through her hair as she stared at the tip of the glowing cigarette. “She acts like she’s crazy, like me.”
“That’s what I thought at first. But I think she knows what she wants and won’t compromise.” Her diaper felt heavy. “She hates a wet diaper.”
Janet cursed. “I just changed her.”
“I know. She’s a pee machine.”
That jostled a smile that faded quickly. “I want to raise her more than anything, Addie. She’s my child. I want to stick around and get to know Eric. But I don’t think I can cut it.”
The baby rooted her lips against my neck, a sure sign she was hungry. There’d be no peace until Carrie ate. “Why don’t you come upstairs? Grace will make coffee. And I can feed the baby. We can talk.”
She shook her head and looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. “You’d do that after yesterday?”
My sister is my curse. The words on the scroll didn’t ring as true. “Yes.”
“Why?”
I tipped back my head, sensing I’d so regret all this one day. Janet would always be a roller coaster. “I couldn’t give you a logical reason if you paid me.”
A smile flickered and faded. “I can’t do this alone, Addie. I love Carrie and Eric, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”
And here I stood at the crossroads. If I agreed, I’d be taking care of the baby and Janet for a very long time. I would be embracing the curse, wrapping my arms around it, and daring it to take its best shot. Experience taught me that the curse would make my life tough in the coming years. I’d question my own sanity. Feel exhausted. So frustrated. That was the nature of the curse, the disease. It affected everyone in the family.
But I was willing to do it. “We’ll figure this out together, Janet.”
“How?”
I opened her car door and reached my hand out to her. “I don’t have a clue. But we’ll figure it out.”
December 1, 1751
I dreame
d of Faith last night. “You denied me,” she said. “You denied me in Scotland and here in Alexandria.” I watched as she raised her hand and pointed to me. “I curse you, dear sister. Until you claim me as your flesh and blood, your fears will shackle you and yours.” I awoke, tears streaming. Dr. Goodwin asked about the dream, but I told him nothing.
Epilogue
Two weeks passed before I heard Zeb’s heavy footsteps crossing the warehouse. Carrie was in the baby seat, fussing and grabbing her toes. Janet still lived with her friends, but she came by every day or two to see the baby. Carrie enjoyed the visits and so did Janet, but in the end, each seemed to be relieved to take a break from the other.
“I hear you have a big job coming up,” Zeb said.
“We do. An old church in Leesburg. Should be quite interesting.”
He grabbed Carrie’s foot and jostled it. His touch was rougher than mine, and it caught the baby’s attention. She looked at him, wide-eyed. “Janet’s been by to see Eric a couple of times. He likes seeing her.”
“That’s good. She does the same with Carrie.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“We’re working out a legal agreement. I love them both, but I won’t let this disease run the show. The agreement says I have primary custody, and she’ll have visitation.”
Creased feathering around the corners of his eyes deepened. “You think it’ll work?”
“It has to.”
“You heard from Scott?”
“No.” I grinned. “He’s waiting for me to see the light.”
“And?”
“I saw it. And that’s why I’m here.”
A slow grin warmed his face, softening it in a new way. “Good. I’m glad you’re here. Real glad.”
Making Your Own Witch or Wish Bottle
1 large bottle with lid
1 smaller bottle with lid that fits in larger bottle
ITEMS YOU COULD INCLUDE IN YOUR WISH BOTTLE
At the Corner of King Street Page 31