The Hidden Grimoire

by Karla Brandenburg

  The customers who stopped in spared a smile for Georgia while they browsed. Because it wasn’t tourist season, most of them were locals in to pick up a bar of soap or check out Cassandra’s fashions.

  We exhausted all the toys in Georgia’s travel bag, including reading a couple of books. Two hours passed quickly and I grew concerned for LeAnne. Doctors often ran late, and OBs might be delayed with unexpected deliveries, but if that was the case, I’d presumed LeAnne would call.

  Georgia lay beside Ash on the blanket, stuck her thumb in her mouth and closed her eyes. Nap time, apparently. Ash inched closer and cuddled against Georgia’s back.

  Another half hour passed before Jason stormed into the shop. He stopped when he saw his daughter sleeping peacefully in the corner.

  “This will not be a regular occurrence,” he whispered.

  “How’s LeAnne?”

  He didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he gathered Georgia’s things and stuffed them into her travel bag. He scooped her into his arms, jostling her to wakefulness.

  She cried and reached for me. “Aunt Bwinn.”

  I shushed her and patted her back. “Daddy’s got you.”

  “Daddy mad.”

  I shot a look at Jason designed to point out his temper didn’t help things. I tried to keep a reassuring tone in my voice. “Daddy loves you.”

  She burrowed against his neck. Jason closed his eyes and breathed deep.

  “Whatever harm you think I might do,” I said, “make sure you consider how your anger affects her. Children are sensitive to that sort of thing.”

  “What do you know about raising children?” he asked.

  “Enough to know her father’s anger frightens her.”

  “Stay out of it.”

  “What are you afraid of, Jason?”

  He picked up the travel bag while I folded the blanket Georgia had been resting on.

  “Thank you,” he said grudgingly.

  “It’s what family does. I hope everything is okay with LeAnne and the baby.”

  He opened the door and turned one last time. “I can take care of my family. This won’t happen again.”

  Chapter 13

  LeAnne wouldn’t have sent Jason to retrieve Georgia unless she wasn’t able to. At least I didn’t think so. I texted her to make sure she was okay. She replied that the doctor had admitted her to the hospital overnight for observation, apologized for Jason’s bad manners, and thanked me again for helping out.

  Kyle walked into the shop, looked around. “Where’s Georgia?”

  “Her father picked her up.”

  “Her father?” He dipped his chin. “And?”

  “LeAnne was admitted for observation. Should I visit her?”

  “That depends. What did your cousin say when he found you babysitting his daughter?”

  I frowned. “He wasn’t happy.”

  Kyle hugged me. “This is why I love you. In spite of the way he’s treated you, you still want to do the right thing by his wife.” He pulled away. “Unless you have another reason to want to visit her.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No. She’s family. She’s in the hospital.”

  He nodded. “My advice? He’s probably going to be there. You don’t want him making a scene, and his wife doesn’t need the added stress.”

  “You’re right.” I sighed.

  “I should have been here to protect you, but Otis was suspicious of kids hanging around the Five-and-Dime. He’s worried they might be shoplifting.”

  I punched his shoulder. “Will you stop? You have a job to do, and I don’t need a bodyguard. Was Otis right?”

  “Didn’t catch ’em, so couldn’t say. I told him to put up security cameras if he’s really worried.” Kyle checked his phone. “I’m going to head to the PD to wrap up my shift. You going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Kyle kissed me goodbye and I went through my closing routine before I checked the website one last time. Several transactions had come through, and I gathered the product to ship out tomorrow. After I’d packed and labeled the orders, I collected Ash and my tote and locked up.

  Kyle met me on the street.

  “Any more problems?” he asked.

  “All good,” I told him.

  Kyle took my tote and we left the street for the footpaths, where the sun had melted what remained of the snow to make mud. I picked my steps carefully, trying to avoid the messiest spots.

  “I was thinking about Thanksgiving,” Kyle said. “For a lot of years, it’s just been me and my dad. Now that we’re getting married, I thought we could make things more festive, bring all the family together.”

  I hoped that didn’t include his aunt, who was currently institutionalized. Putting my aunt and his father in the same room wasn’t necessarily a good idea, either. Their relationship might be ancient history, but it hadn’t been forgotten.

  “What do you think?” he pressed.

  I rounded my shoulders, worried Kyle’s big happy family image wasn’t realistic. “Before I came to Hillendale, Thanksgiving was always uncomfortable with Aunt Theresa and Uncle Jerome. I have to say I never felt very thankful. After I moved, Nora and I never made a big deal out of it.” I took his hands. “Do you think it’s a good idea to have Nora and your father in the same room? Especially if we invite Nora’s husband.”

  His open expression indicated he was more optimistic than I was. “Which is why we should figure something out sooner rather than later. Everyone can come to my house. Neutral ground.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. It might work this once, but what do we do when you flip the house? Would your father come to Nora’s...” I shook my head. “I mean, my house?”

  He frowned. “We could always go to a restaurant.”

  “I’ll see what Nora thinks. We’ve kept things pretty simple in the past.” Something I actually had been thankful for.

  We left the footpath moments later.

  “See you in a few minutes.” Kyle handed me my tote, gave me a quick kiss, and headed toward his house.

  Once I walked inside, Ash jumped out of her basket, waiting to be fed. I set my things down, took off my coat and put out food for her.

  No time like the present to ask Nora about Kyle’s latest idea. I called to ask her.

  “Before you came to town, I didn’t do much for the holiday,” Nora said. “Fletcher’s people choose to be thankful every day rather than on one day out of the year, and that one day everyone else celebrates isn’t a positive remembrance for them. Not everyone combines families for holidays. We can still get together if you want, but I think it best not to try to bring oil and water together.”

  I glanced out the window. Kyle walked out of his house, locked his door, and waved to me. Could we have a normal life with the history between our families? Then again, my life hadn’t been normal since my parents died. I was pretty sure Kyle’s life hadn’t been normal after his mother died, either. Did he want a different normal, too?

  “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  When Kyle walked in, I relayed my conversation with Nora, watched his expressions for signs of disappointment. Aside from his subdued mood, he seemed to accept bringing everyone together wasn’t likely to happen. “So you and me and my dad?”

  “I can cook, if you want me to.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, out the window. “If we intend to start new traditions, a restaurant might be the best option.”

  New traditions. New memories. Together. Neither of us had grown up in a traditional setting. My heart ached for him. We had the opportunity to make a better life for both of us. “I’m in,” I told him.

  He let the subject drop, and we spent a quiet evening together.

  OPAL LARSEN’S FUNERAL was scheduled for Thursday, with visitation ahead of the service. I stopped at the church on my way into town to pay my respects to Cassandra’s family. Many of the local merchants were there and, like me, they didn’t stay for the funeral. When
I unlocked the door to Windfall, the other shops were also opening.

  After three days in the shop without Cassandra, I was edgy. I found myself watching out the window for Jason to show up and threaten me again, or that woman’s unknown sister to put in an appearance and blindside me. I tried to tell myself I had nothing to worry about, that if evil was pursuing me, I would sense it the way I had over the summer. For distraction, I grabbed a basket of painted pinecones and sat down to make them into Christmas trees and flower arrangements. Ash rose from her rug to settle in my lap, purring.

  A surge of customers came into the store around lunchtime, leading me to believe the funeral had ended. As I sold the special orders I’d mixed, the air seemed to shift. When I looked up, Jason and Georgia wandered the store. He hung back, inspecting the merchandise and watching while I transacted my business. When the customers had cleared out, Jason approached the sales counter, carrying Georgia.

  “Three times in one week,” I said. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  Georgia pouted. “Sock monkey.”

  “She had a toy that seems to have been misplaced,” Jason said. “I thought it might be here. Did you happen to find one?”

  The display at the end of the counter was dwindling. The sock monkeys were one of the commodities Opal Larsen had provided.

  “Didn’t you pack her toys?” I asked.

  “Apparently I missed one.”

  Behind me, Ash mewed. Georgia pointed and clapped. On the counter beside Ash’s rug lay a sock monkey. Ash carried the monkey in her mouth while it dragged between her legs, causing her to take comical, wide steps. I laughed, took the toy from the cat, and handed it to Georgia.

  “Is that sanitary?” Jason asked.

  “It won’t kill her,” I said.

  Georgia reached for me. “Aunt Bwinn.”

  “Aunt Brynn is busy,” Jason said evenly.

  “No. Aunt Bwinn,” she repeated, leaning until Jason had no choice but to hand her to me.

  Georgia cuddled into my neck.

  “How’s LeAnne?” I asked.

  “Fine.”

  His curt response might as well have been a slap to the face. “What exactly are you afraid of?” I asked. “Enough to make you go out of your way to denounce your family?”

  “Witches are heretical,” he said. “You should know that. My parents took you to church every Sunday. Certainly, something would have gotten through.”

  I laughed. “You think I’m in league with the devil? Is that it?”

  Ash jumped to the floor and lay down, inviting a pet from Georgia. I set Georgia beside her.

  “As you can see, I survived church with your mother. No scars, no pillars of salt.” My sarcasm wouldn’t help my argument, and yet the bitterness wouldn’t be denied. “I learned about God from my parents, Jason. If your mother had been in charge of my spiritual guidance, you can be sure I would have turned out much differently.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I wasn’t going to get into this argument with him. They were his parents, after all. Instead, I folded my arms and stared at him.

  “No,” he said. “I’d like to hear what you think. They did take you in and raise you when your parents died. Tell me how that makes them terrible people.”

  “Your mother is a plaster saint, a self-declared martyr. She openly displayed her disdain for her poor, orphaned niece. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything they did for me, but their care came with a price.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “If they’re such wonderful people, why don’t they know about LeAnne? And Georgia? And the new baby?”

  Jason’s face suffused with blood. “That’s none of your business.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I hold myself to a moral standard, the same way you do. The fact I’ve inherited certain gifts that allow me to interact with nature in a different way doesn’t make me evil or someone to be reviled.”

  Georgia jumped to her feet. “Don’t yell!”

  The remaining sock monkeys on the end of the counter fell to the floor and I pointed it out. “You see that? Georgia was born with gifts, too. I can help her learn to control her temper, teach her how she’s connected to nature. Or you can deny her that option and let her learn the hard way, like I did.”

  Jason lifted Georgia from the floor. He kept his voice quiet, his tone even. “You won’t be teaching my daughter anything. Thank you for finding her toy.” Once more getting the last word, he stomped out.

  With a grunt of frustration, I wasn’t sure what else I could have said that might sway his opinion. Maybe in time he’d understand. I owed it to Georgia to keep trying.

  I set the ‘be right back’ sign in the window, locked the front door and dashed across the street to the florist. Whether Jason liked it or not, I intended to send flowers to his wife. She should know his family cared about her and her children.

  I picked out a bouquet, filled out a card, and asked for them to be delivered to the hospital today. When I crossed the street again, Kyle was waiting for me outside Windfall.

  “I was worried,” he said.

  “Running a quick errand,” I said as I unlocked the shop. “Busy day?”

  “Accident out on the county trunk highway,” he said as he followed me inside. “Kid hit a patch of black ice on a hill and ran into a tree near Larsen’s farm.”

  “He okay?”

  “He’s pretty banged up. Anything happening in town?”

  I debated whether it was worth telling him about Jason’s latest visit and decided against it. “Pretty quiet with Opal Larsen’s funeral.”

  “Yeah, I worked that, too. Had to close intersections for the procession on its way to the cemetery.” He leaned on the counter. “Listen, I’ll walk you home after work, but I told my dad I’d stop over to help him hook up a new television and stay for the Bucks game.”

  “That’s fine. You don’t have to walk me home,” I told him.

  “But I want to. Otherwise I’ll be worried something might happen to you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I can call you when I get home, if that would make you feel better.”

  He sidled up beside me, slipping his arms around my waist. “What would make me feel better is being with you instead of my father. Consider walking you home a compromise.”

  I chuckled. “Fine.”

  “I’ll see you at six, if not before.” He squeezed my arm and walked out.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon making more decorations from my basket of pinecones and filling a few more orders placed on the website.

  With Kyle going to his father’s, I’d have time to study the hidden grimoire. Maybe it had guidance on what to do about Georgia and Jason. I had to admit to curiosity about the “bad” spells—not that I intended to use one, but in case I might need to defend against one.

  Chapter 14

  With the blinds drawn in my workroom, I sat at the worktable and used my telekinesis to summon the hidden grimoire. It appeared moments later. Even though I’d touched the book previously, my instincts warned against that now. Instead, I concentrated on turning the pages hands-free.

  The aged paper flipped to the page with the skull and crossbones. I braced myself and read the spell.

  Close your eyes, free your arms. Turn thrice in a circle. Spit at the feet of thine enemy or upon that thing which you wish to enchant. The curse will last 30 days. BEWARE. If the target of your curse is not deserving, the curse will reverse itself upon you. It fights on your behalf for justice to provide safety but it is not meant to be misused in any way.

  The warning was clear—be darn sure before you attempt to cast the spell. Message received.

  The next page was the spell to guide Georgia’s dreams—or whoever the intended person was.

  The following pages had drawings of keys, pentagrams, starbursts. Fire, and a spell to guard against fire.

  I squeezed my eyes against the memory pushing its way forward once more, my muscles knotted with panic. I rose
to my feet, coughing, gasping for breath until the restored workroom came into focus around me. No fire. No witch standing outside the windows. I flexed my hands, a tingle recalling the energy I’d sent forth to break the windows that day. Was I expected to add to the page? The energy I’d harnessed to escape Narcy’s spell?

  Instead, I dropped onto the stool and concentrated on breathing.

  The book will call on you as you need it. Wasn’t that the way all the grimoires worked?

  “Go back,” I told the book, not wanting to read any more.

  Instead, the book flipped to the spell to guide her dreams.

  “I don’t know if I can,” I whispered under my breath. “Not tonight.”

  The book remained stubbornly on the worktable, open to the page.

  Hands trembling, I closed the book, closed my eyes and let the clouds envelop me as I mouthed the incantation.

  Little arms wrapped tightly around my neck, along with the sock monkey she clutched in her fist. “Aunt Bwinn.”

  “I’m here, baby.”

  “I want my momma.”

  “She’ll be with you again soon,” I said, hoping it was true. LeAnne was close to her due date. Hadn’t Jeannine told me the baby was due in December? That was still a month away. “Your daddy’s here, isn’t he?”

  Georgia nodded and rubbed little fists in her eyes.

  “He’ll take good care of you until Mommy comes home.”

  “I don’t like the other lady.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “What other lady?”

  She clutched the sock monkey close. “My monkey. I don’t like her playing with him.”

  A babysitter? Georgia didn’t appear to be neglected, and yet I understood unwanted attention from people I didn’t trust. “Don’t let her scare you,” I said, smoothing Georgia’s hair. “You play with your monkey and pretend she isn’t there.” How could I tell a three-year-old to control her temper? “Think about how happy you’ll be when Mommy comes home and when you have a new baby sister to play with.”

  Georgia laid back, smiled, and closed her eyes. “I love you, Aunt Bwinn.”