by Ashlyn Chase
He paused and scanned the items. “What tastes like a bear claw?”
“Really? You’re stuck on those?” Dru asked.
“Nah. I’ll take a scone or something.”
“Good. Because those we’ve got. Blueberry or raspberry?”
“Whatever’s fresher.”
Dru reached for the raspberry scone.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Listen, the reason I stopped in was to tell you I think I may have seen your sister.”
Dru snapped to attention. “Really? Where?”
“I’m not sure it was her…and I don’t want you to be alarmed. I think she just twisted her ankle or something. She was in the emergency room at Portsmouth Memorial.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. I was running late for my physical.”
“And you waited until now to tell me?”
“I had myself talked out of thinking it might be her, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing. Her hair was completely different.”
“Shorter? Darker blonde.”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“I thought I saw her too.” Dru dropped his gaze and stopped blaming Ethan for not recognizing her. After all, he had done the same thing.
“Anyway, she seemed fine. The girl I saw was sitting up, smiling and chatting with some guy. Her foot was elevated on another chair. And public displays of affection must run in your family, because she kissed him.”
Dru was struck dumb. Could Shasta be having an affair with some guy she can’t bring home and can’t leave? Why wouldn’t she call and tell me? He thought about that for a minute. Maybe he’s married. Maybe he’s an ex-con on parole. Regardless, she should have called. Would he have demanded she return to college and graduate? Darn tootin’.
“I’ll kill her!”
Ethan reared back. “That wasn’t the reaction I was anticipating.”
April half expected to never see her amnesia buddy again, so when a guy on a motorcycle roared up to the bench where she was seated and took his helmet off, she was delighted to discover it was John—or Mike—or Duke. She didn’t know what to call him anymore.
“Wow! Is this yours?”
“Yeah. I found it in my garage and the keys were in it. Want to go for a ride?”
“Sure!”
She was about to don the helmet John/Mike/Duke gave her when Dr. Frampton exited the building and yelled, “Hey. Wait a minute.”
He jogged to where they were standing. “Do you have a license for that thing, John?”
“I sure do. And the name’s Mike.” He fished a new looking wallet out of his back pocket.
“Never mind. I don’t need to see it. I just had to make sure you weren’t driving illegally.”
“I want to take April to the beach. I know she likes it there. We won’t go far.”
Dr. Frampton nodded. “Congratulations on recovering your memory, by the way. I thought you’d be resting at home.”
“I am. I have a home in Rye. Well, it’s my parents’ summer home, but they only get to spend a couple of weeks a year there, so I get it the rest of the time.”
“Ah, I see. Are they there now?”
“They came for the weekend.”
“It must have been good to see familiar faces.”
“Yeah.”
April knew the doctor was digging. Probably wanting to see how much Mike/Duke remembered. She’d decided to drop John. It wasn’t his name, after all. Maybe if he really had recovered his memory he wouldn’t want to be reminded of when or why he’d been called that.
She had a few questions of her own, but she didn’t plan on grilling him.
“Well, we’ve gotta go while there’s plenty of sunlight left. I don’t want to keep her out after dark.”
Dr. Frampton smiled briefly. “Good man. See you soon, April.”
“Yup.” Not too soon, I hope. She put on the helmet with the dark visor. She could see out of it quite well since it filtered the harsh sunlight, but she doubted the doctor could see her anymore. Just as well, because she was rolling her eyes.
Mike had time to decide what to tell April on the way to his beach house. He had discovered quite a bit about himself and not all of it was good. They called him Duke, because his parents were rich. Apparently his fiancée Bethany was high maintenance and his parents suspected she was only interested in him for his money…which he didn’t have.
The Wentworths purposely didn’t coddle their three children, wanting each to appreciate where money came from—hard work. Yes, he lived in their beach house in pricey Rye, New Hampshire, but he paid rent.
When Bethany found out she was marrying a mere EMT who didn’t own his home and wouldn’t come into an inheritance until his healthy parents in their late forties passed away, she bailed. She knew the facts, but apparently didn’t accept them until she demanded a giant diamond and Mike assured her he couldn’t afford it. No way. No how.
His parents said they’d get him the best doctor available to help him explore any residual reasons for the suicide attempt. He had to have been depressed, but he didn’t think he was anymore. His second lease on life was an eye opener.
He remembered walking aimlessly the night Bethany broke it off. Loving that woman took so much out of him that he willingly took a dive off the Piscataqua River Bridge. He had thought he wasn’t good enough. But now he couldn’t imagine letting her—or any woman, ruin his life like that. He hoped April would understand and forgive him for doing something so stupid. This girl was very low maintenance and seemed to have her priorities straight.
Before he took her to the beach; however, he wanted to find that bakery and buy her a piece of apple pie. She had mentioned the scent seemed to bring back a memory that was just out of reach. He hoped the strong olfactory recall could jog her memory. It would be nice to know the girl he wanted to get involved with this time.
Dru carried his tray of samples down Middle Street toward market square. A motorcycle roared up beside him.
The driver planted his feet on the ground and raised his voice over the idling engine. “Is there a bakery around here? I can’t remember the name…”
Dru grinned. “Yup. I can recommend the Bewitching Bakery just about a block down that way.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “Would you like to try a sample?”
The guy leaned over to see what was on the tray. Apparently he wasn’t in the mood for a mini cupcake, because he shook his head and said, “No thanks. We’re looking for apple pie.”
The person on the back of the bike was wearing one of those tinted visors, so Dru couldn’t really see her. He thought about asking if she’d like a cupcake, but they seemed to know what they wanted, and he didn’t want to distract them from their mission.
“Rebecca bakes the most amazing apple pies. You can tell her Dru sent you. Then she’ll know I’m doin’ my job.” He winked at the passenger.
The guy thanked him and continued down the street. Dru watched as they pulled up in front of the bakery and got off the bike.
Well, that was easy. Maybe all my walkin’ is finally payin’ off. They were actually lookin’ for a bakery and Rebecca’s is the only one in the neighborhood.
He continued on his way, whistling.
“That tune again…”
“What tune?” Mike asked as he held the door open for April.
She shook her head. “Just something that sounds familiar. And that guy was whistling it…Something else about him seemed familiar too.”
“Do you want me to see if I can catch him?”
“No. I’m sure it’s just my imagination.”
“Well, if you’re sure…Have a seat. I’ll get our pie.”
April took a seat facing the windows. If things in this neighborhood were sparking memories, she wanted to watch every person and vehicle going by. Maybe she lived around here. Wouldn’t that just be a kick in the pants? She could see the headlines now. Daughter gets lost five blocks from home.
&nb
sp; She heard a male voice taking Mike’s order, and then a cell phone rang. He answered, “Ethan Cox. Yeah. I can be there in five minutes.”
The guy called out, “Rebecca, I have to go. Will you be all right ‘til Dru gets back?”
A female voice said, “I’ll be fine. Go. Save the harbor.”
April turned slightly as the guy rushed by and out the front door. He didn’t spare her a glance. He must be on some kind of emergency crew.
The woman was cutting their pie on a counter behind her and chatting casually with Mike. All April could see was her back and her long, brown ponytail.
Mike turned to her, “Hey, April. Do you want yours heated?”
“Yeah. I want to smell it.”
He grinned and told the woman to heat up both pieces. April resumed staring out the window. As usual, nothing looked especially familiar. Most of the homes in the city were turn of the century Colonials. This section was no different. If she lived in one of these homes, maybe some kind of unique decoration would spark a memory, but so far, she hadn’t seen any.
Mike returned to their table with two pieces of delicious smelling apple pie on stoneware plates. He placed one in front of her and she leaned in to take a big appreciative whiff.
“Oh, yeah. This is definitely familiar. I think I know how to make it. Roll out two pie crusts. Put one in a glass pie plate. Fill it with peeled apple slices, some lemon juice, sugar, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and dot the top with butter before closing it up with the other crust. Then beat an egg with some milk and brush the top crust with that.” She bounced up and down in her chair. “I remember doing it. I was with an older woman in a kitchen with a long wooden counter and a white sink.”
Mike reached across the table. “That’s so cool! You might have remembered something. Does it feel real or like somebody told you about it recently?”
“Nobody’s told me how to bake a pie recently.”
“Then it’s real.” He squeezed her hands.
As soon as he let go, she dug into her pie and closed her eyes, tasting every morsel. “Mmmm…”
The woman behind her said, “Now that’s the sound I like to hear.”
April swiveled halfway around and said, “This is delicious, Ma’am.”
A timer buzzed in the other room. “I’m glad. Yell, if you need anything else.” Then she scurried off to the kitchen.
“Oh! We were supposed to tell her that Dru sent us,” she reminded Mike.
“Don’t worry about it. He can tell her himself if he really wants her to know.”
Dru. Why is that name familiar? She pondered and realized he’d just said it. She might have been remembering what occurred ten minutes ago.
But the apple pie recipe… That was a real memory. “I remember how to bake,” April said. Her voice broke on the word bake and she couldn’t utter another word around the lump in her throat.
Mike stroked her hand and smiled. “You’re getting there.”
“So, did those two kids I sent get their apple pie?” Dru asked.
“Yeah. Did you send them?” Rebecca dried her hands on a paper towel and walked into his hug. He kissed her neck and she backed away. “Don’t start that again.”
He grinned. “Why not?”
“Because I have an order to get ready.”
“Oh well. Can’t blame a guy for tryin’.”
“Come into the kitchen with me. I haven’t had a chance to tell you about the circle the other night.”
“Oh, yeah. How did that go?”
Rebecca whistled a long descending note as she grabbed a mixing bowl and started gathering her ingredients.
“That bad?”
“I don’t know what to think. I wasn’t even sure if I should tell you about it. You don’t really believe in magic and you’ll think I’m loony tunes.”
“I know you, Rebecca. You’re not crazy. And as far as I know, you’ve never lied to me. Hell, you don’t even embellish the truth.”
She smiled. “Goddess willing, I never will. I’m happy you trust me.”
“Completely. Now, go ahead. You can tell me anythin’.”
She sighed. “Okay…here goes. The new high priestess…well, I’ll get to her in a minute. The big news is teleportation.”
“Telewhat?”
“Two members of our coven just up and disappeared, then rematerialized right in front of us.”
Drew didn’t react. How could he? He’d just told her she could tell him anything and he wouldn’t mistake her for crazy or call her a liar. Now she sounded like a crazy liar! “What the fuck?”
She whirled on him with one hand on her hip. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Whoa. I didn’t say that. I was surprised is all. I shouldn’t use profanity in front of a lady, though. I apologize for that.”
She gave him a sad smile and turned back to her baking. “I don’t blame you. I think most of us had the same reaction.”
“So, who did this teleportin’?”
“You remember Cassandra? Her witch name is Celestia.”
“Yeah. I remember her. The blonde, right?”
“There are a few blondes, but she’s one of them…probably the only natural one.”
“Yeah. Anyway…You’re sayin’ she just up and disappeared? Where did she go?”
“She was doing a spell to have tenure at her job and suddenly…poof! A few seconds later she reappeared and said she’d accidentally gone to her lecture hall at the University.”
Again, Dru had no idea what to say. Cool? Holy figgin’ shit? No idea. So he just remained silent and let Rebecca continue.
“If that wasn’t enough, Abigail—you know, Ariel, decided to try it on purpose.”
“And?”
“And she was gone a little longer. We were getting really worried when she reappeared with a new scarf around her neck. She said she got it in Paris.”
Drew’s jaw dropped and his mouth went dry. He couldn’t have expressed a thought if he’d wanted to.
Rebecca had measured her dry ingredients and whisked them together. She proceeded to the fridge and took out milk and butter as if she’d just told him the sky was blue.
He cleared his throat. “So, what did the others think about it?”
“We were all pretty stunned. Keith was almost angry. Hanna wouldn’t admit to trying it, but she didn’t freak out. The new high priestess acted like it was no big deal. She asked if anyone else wanted to try it.”
“And?”
“And the general consensus was ‘thanks but no thanks.’”
Drew shook his head hard. “Well, don’t that put pepper in the gumbo?”
“Huh?”
“Nuthin’. Just another expression, but nicer.”
A pensive silence filled the kitchen. Drew wondered if something like that could have happened to Shasta. Maybe she tried teleporting and didn’t know how to get back.
“So how does it work?”
Rebecca shrugged. “It’s magic. Are you asking how magic works?”
“No. I understand that’s the Goddess’s doin’. I was wonderin’ how they got where they wanted to go? I take it they knew how to get back, because they both returned.”
“Apparently, they just thought about where they most wanted to be. When they wanted to come back in the hotel suite, they concentrated on it and reappeared.”
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s cousin.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Drew studied her as she folded the dry ingredients into the wet. “Do you think you could do it now?”
“Me? Eesh, I hope not.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have two dozen cupcakes to make.” She grinned, then turned the mixer on.
I wonder if I could do it. Dru thought about the ranch. He closed his eyes and pictured it in acute detail. The dusty dirt roads from the main house to the bunk houses and barns. The smell of manure and hay. He even felt the sun beating down on his back and shoulders.
&nbs
p; When he opened his eyes, he saw Rebecca’s beautiful backside, surrounded by an industrial kitchen. I guess if it was easy, we’d all be doin’ it.
Or maybe he was right where he wanted to be.
“Now I wish I could get back into the coven.” Dru sat with Hanna at the small table in the bakery’s kitchen. “I understand I’m not nearly ready, but I’d like to get ready.” In case I decide to stay here in the pleasant Northeast. There had been a few days in the nineties, but it was nothing like the Texas summer.
“Why? Are you interested in the religious aspect or the magic you can do?”
“Both.”
She nodded slowly and appeared to be mulling it over. “Most people are only interested in the magical portion. Are you willing to embrace the Goddess and celebrate the sabbats, even if you have no spells to cast at that time?”
“Yes. I want to learn, and Myranda’s classes don’t jive with my helpin’ Rebecca. I was hoping you’d have a suggestion. I can read books, go on the Internet—”
Hanna held up her hand. “Stop right there. Don’t use the Internet to learn beginner’s Wicca. You think that love spell went wrong? You should see some of the stupidity posted—or rather, you shouldn’t see it. Nobody should.”
“Okay. No Internet.”
She smiled slyly. “Do you like computers, Dru?”
“Right now all I have is my phone, but I like to browse interesting sites, keep in touch with old friends from school, that sort of thing. Why do you ask?”
She took a sip of her tea. “Just curious.” She reached into her black tote bag embroidered with a gold pentagram and produced a book. “I had a feeling this is why you called me.”
Dru smiled. “I keep forgettin’ how psychic you are.” There’s that sly smile again. What’s she up to?
She handed him a book by Laurie Cabot. “Read this first. If you have any questions Rebecca can’t answer, you can always call Myranda or Yvonne. If they’re stumped—which I highly doubt, you can call me.”
“The biggest wish I had seems to stump everyone. No disrespect intended.”
She sighed. “I know. You desperately want to find your sister, and all I can tell you is you’re very close.”