Any Witch Way

by Annastaysia Savage

  Ahead of her in Winslow’s Hardware storefront alcove, Sadie noticed Crazy Mary conversing with herself, yet again. Crazy Mary was, well, for lack of a better phrase, the town crazy. Averting her eyes, Sadie tried to hurry past the old woman who seemed engrossed in a conversation with the parking meter right in front of the store.

  Sadie was a little afraid of Crazy Mary. Not that the old woman had ever harmed anyone; nevertheless, Sadie acted like she didn’t see her. It was kind of hard to take a muttering old woman who talks to walls, parking meters and trees seriously, in addition to looking like someone out of medieval times. Just when she thought she was clear of the eccentric old woman, Sadie felt a hand grip her arm. She froze, as if the weather had finally taken her.

  “They’re coming for you, sweetness. I don’t know when or how, but mark my words, little Lammia, they are coming. Be vigilant, girl!” Then she brought her aged face close enough that Sadie could smell her sour breath. “Evil and madness grouped together as they are…this Syndicate of Lunacy…they wouldn’t dare let the likes of you get away. I can see your shine a mile away,” Crazy Mary said through cracked lips and ancient, pained eyes. She began muttering under her breath, “Run…hide-away…hidey-hide…won’t be long now….”

  Then the old woman burst into raucous laughter.

  Sadie wrestled her arm away from the old woman as panic set in, and she ran towards the bookstore across the street, not even checking for oncoming traffic. She could hear Crazy Mary still cackling behind her. As she reached the curb, she tripped in her hurried carelessness; and if Sadie didn’t know better, she could have sworn the parking meter directly in front of the shop reached out and righted her on the sidewalk. She shook her head as if the action could clear things away just like it does with an Etch-a-Sketch.

  Just like me not to watch where I’m going.

  As her hand touched the handle of the mostly glass door, the wind grabbed it, flinging it open furiously. This commotion caused those inside to look wide-eyed at the tussled young girl entering. Though it didn’t shatter, it did cause enough of a scene to make Sadie feel uncomfortable. Wrestling it closed, shutting out the horrid weather, Sadie tried not to notice how many people were staring at her.

  “Rough weather, huh, Sadie,” the grandmotherly Mrs. Felis said more than questioned, as she looked up from the counter. “Come have a cup of tea with me to warm your bones. I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.” The woman had a concerned look on her face.

  Catching her breath, Sadie smoothed her hair and replied, “I hadn’t planned on…I was just going home and…I thought I’d stop in, like usual, to see if there were any more of those donated second hand books I could take home. One day I’ll have enough money to really buy something. I promise, Mrs. Felis.”

  As if her shaky voice weren’t a giveaway, her staggered words definitely did so as she choked on getting them out. She hated being so transparent.

  “Sadie, kitten, what’s got into you tonight? You look five shades of pale and a bit shaken,” the old woman said as she came around the counter.

  Her cat Grimm silently leapt from his perch on the plant stand and came to weave himself in and out of Sadie’s legs. The comfort Sadie felt from Grimm calmed her almost instantly, and helped her regain her composure.

  “I’m okay, really. I’m just cold; and for the first time ever, Crazy Mary spoke to me. She actually touched my arm, called me some strange name, and said something about someone or something…something evil coming for me. Can you believe it? That woman is nuts.”

  Sadie took a deep breath and decided to change the subject. She had an uncomfortable, unexplainable feeling that she shouldn’t speak ill of Crazy Mary. “Not to mention, this weather is outta control. Where did it come from?” Sadie said, forcing a smile and unbuttoning her coat.

  For a fleeting moment Mrs. Felis hesitated before she took Sadie’s coat from her and hung it on the aged black wrought-iron coat stand by the door. The old woman hugged Sadie closer than usual and beamed at her through sparkling green eyes full of love. The pair walked to the corner of the bookstore reserved for Mrs. Felis and Grimm.

  Two big overstuffed chairs with footstools and a table holding a tea kettle and cookies filled the space and made it a cozy place, one where you could stay lost for hours with a good book. Books had always been Sadie’s friends, her only friends now as she was also considered crazy in her own way since she admitted to thinking her mom was still alive.

  As Sadie plopped into the huge chair, Mrs. Felis poured her a cup of tea and added a spoonful of honey, just the way she liked it. Handing the cup and saucer to Sadie, she poured her own and sat opposite the girl in her personally familiar chair. Grimm appeared at her feet and began his winding dance between their legs. For once, he didn’t go straight to the extremely large bowl of catnip Mrs. Felis kept on the table in between the cookies and tea. He liked catnip so much that Sadie often thought they may have to have an intervention on him. Distracted by Grimm, Sadie looked up in time to see Mrs. Felis sprinkling some of the catnip into her own cup of tea.

  What on earth? Catnip in her tea? I mean, I do know that Felis means cat in Latin. She told me as much, but to eat catnip is taking it a bit too far. She must be losing it in her old age.

  Seeing that her action didn’t go unnoticed, Mrs. Felis briskly wiped her hands together in an almost clapping fashion and chuckled, red-faced. She shook her head and tsked-tsked herself as if embarrassed at being seen making such a silly mistake.

  “Oh, what a silly thing I am—thought it was the sugar bowl. I did.” Clearing her throat she continued, changing the subject quickly. “So, little one, your birthday is coming in one day. To be precise, it’s tomorrow. You’ll be thirteen. That’s a special age for you people, isn’t it? Do you have any plans? Is your new family doing anything in particular?”

  As soon as the words left Mrs. Felis’s mouth, it looked as though she regretted them, knowing the pain it would cause little Sadie. It was an unfortunate reminder that this was yet another birthday without her mother.

  You people? Mrs. Felis had always been a little off, and Sadie, once again, chalked it up to old age. But you people, what exactly did that mean?

  “No, no plans. I hate that Mom isn’t…I hate that my birthday is on Halloween. My birthday gets mushed into that stupid holiday, and it’s not really about my birthday anymore. Or…all my presents have to do with ghosts and pumpkins and witches. Mom always made sure my birthday was very un-Halloween.”

  After a moment’s silence, she continued, trying to sound more cheerful, “At least I don’t have a Christmas birthday. I’d be swamped with snowmen and reindeer and Santa stuff.”

  As Sadie said her last word, she exhaled a sigh full of heavy sadness and bowed her head. As she did so, the leaves on the very tall spotted angel wing begonia began to drop in a flurry, as if sighing themselves. Sadie turned her head slowly and eyed the shedding plant. With a curious expression she turned back to face Mrs. Felis.

  “Well, that was weird, about as weird as everything else that’s been happening to me this week,” Sadie said as she sipped her tea and hungrily eyed the cookies on the plate next to her.

  With a chuckle, Mrs. Felis set down her untouched tea, passed Sadie the cookies, and looked at her with a warm, loving expression.

  “You should feel proud to be born at such an exciting time of year. Halloween is actually my favorite holiday. Since it’s combined with my favorite person’s birthday, it makes it all the more extraordinary. You and I will do something special, just for you, something that distinctly separates those two wonderful holidays. Come by here some time tomorrow when we open, and I’ll have a unique surprise for you.”

  Just then, the sleigh bells on the door jingled and in slinked a customer wrapped from head to toe in heavy black wool clothing, for protection from the nasty fall weather, one could only assume. Before Mrs. Felis looked away, she gave Sadie a wink, licked her fingers on both hands and began smoothing her ha
ir back into her silvery-gray bun.

  The woman and child sat in comfortable silence for the next few moments. Mrs. Felis had been like a grandmother to Sadie from the moment they first met, which Sadie thought was a wonderful thing since she had never met her own grandparents.

  Sadie recounted their first meeting and smiled as a warm, soothing feeling spread through her body. The bookstore had just appeared, practically overnight, almost six months ago. While walking home from school one day, Sadie had noticed the empty building because it gave her a peculiar feeling in her stomach. And the very next morning on her way to school again, it wasn’t empty anymore. How delighted she was in discovering it had become a bookstore. The old woman had taken to Sadie as soon as she had walked through the door, like she’d been waiting for her. And Sadie had taken to her as well. How could she not? With her little round glasses that slid down her nose, her grey hair pulled loosely into a bun at all times, her long grey matronly dresses spiced up with very grand Victorian boots all coupled with the warm way she smiled. She reminded Sadie of a storybook aunt or someone’s kind old granny.

  Being a voracious reader and always looking for a place to hide away, Sadie didn’t waste any time in becoming a regular. Mrs. Felis even gave her some books to take home, since Sadie had no money of her own. Sadie assumed this was where newfound interest in all things magikal had come from. The fact being that all the donated books Mrs. Felis gave her were, ironically, about magik, witchcraft, and mythological beasts.

  What she couldn’t figure out was why Crazy Mary had taken to hanging around outside the bookstore. Sadie had never seen her with a book in her gnarled old hands, let alone, reading. She figured it must be because of the kindness Mrs. Felis shows everyone. The warm feeling of safety rushed through her body again at the thought of Mrs. Felis. Eventually, Sadie began to feel like her old self again and even put Crazy Mary’s intrusion out of her mind. Though she still thought it odd that the woman would even talk to her and even odder still the words she uttered. She knew enough about crazy people to know not to listen to them.

  With a sigh, Sadie set down her tea and spoke. “I guess I should be going home now. I left the school library much later than I thought.”

  What she didn’t say was that she was hiding out in the library to avoid the teasing and taunting from the mean kids at school. It could be so tiring to have a daily battle of wits with those that thought you beneath them.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Felis, for always being there for me. I wish you could be my aunt or grandma or something. Then I could live with you and ...” she stopped before continuing the fantasy. “Anyway, I just wish you and I were real family.”

  And she genuinely meant it.

  A look Sadie couldn’t discern flashed across the old woman’s face, and Sadie chalked it up to a stack of books the still very much bundled up customer had just knocked over. Sadie was just happy to have the old woman in her life, especially now, and hugged her fiercely. As Sadie released her from the hug, Mrs. Felis held tight a few seconds longer before she, too, let go.

  “Before you go, dear, I have a book for you,” she said with those emerald eyes of hers sparkling once again.

  Sadie followed her to the counter where she was handed a beautiful green leather-bound book. The front was ornately decorated with intricate spirals that curled into complex and even more beautiful flowers. The raised detail begged for her to run her hands across it, to feel its beauty; as she did so, a surge of happiness washed through her like a warm summer day. There was no title, no name given to this book, which Sadie thought odd. So she opened it to see what the first page held. It was blank. She turned a page; it was blank, too. As was the next and the next. With questioning eyes, she looked at Mrs. Felis.

  “Call it an early birthday present. It’s sort of like a book of your own to write in and make personal—all about you and what you know,” said the sweet, old woman.

  “But what do I write?” asked Sadie as she wiggled into her coat and grabbed her bag.

  “Oh, you’ll know. You’ll know when the words come to you,” she replied as she took the book from Sadie, turned her around and put it in her backpack. “Mr. and Mrs. Argyle will be worrying about you; it’s getting darker by the minute. Best hurry home, Sadie, my love.”

  She kissed the top of Sadie’s head and then brushed her cheek against Sadie’s, an action Sadie had at first thought odd, but then had become accustomed to it since she did it every time Sadie left the bookstore. Mrs. Felis sent her out the door, into the cold fall night, and back to a home that didn’t quite feel like home.

  Sadie turned to face her coveted family. She smiled at both Mrs. Felis and Grimm standing in the doorway, and she braced herself for the cold walk. She always felt good when she left the bookstore and Mrs. Felis. Smiling, she fought the wind and assault of sleet and leaves and began trudging the three blocks off Main to her foster parent’s home. Then she had to stop and turn around. As she did she silently laughed at the error. She was staying with the Argyle family now, not the Moatses; she lived on Main now, just three blocks up from the bookstore, not three blocks off Main.

  All these foster homes were getting confusing. It had been three years, and in that amount of time, she racked up the same number of families. At least she was still in the same town. She always felt so sorry for those kids that had to learn new towns and cities all the time. Cranberry Grove, Pennsylvania, was her hometown, and it felt safe to her; plus, Mrs. Felis and the bookstore were there. Sadie was never good at making new friends, any friends for that matter, only having those acquaintances she used to have at school. She always assumed the friends she did have were because they were outcasts just like her. And the families, none of them really wanted her, and they all had something to say about it. Funny thing was that it was all about the same.

  “There’s something wrong with this girl…she hardly speaks to us, to anyone; when she does speak, it’s to say her mother’s still alive.” That was what Mrs. Anderson used to say. “She’s too quiet, too shy, too withdrawn, too unusual and definitely strange. If she does speak and it’s not about her mother, it’s to ask too many questions. The girl just rambles on and on.”

  That was Mrs. Moats’ complaint about her. Mr. Moats was more direct: “She still thinks her mother is alive. We can’t afford all the therapy bills this one will need.”

  And Sadie’s personal favorite, which she’d never forget, was from Mr. Anderson. “When she’s sad, it’s like a dark cloud settles over the house.”

  I just wish I were a normal kid. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

  Sadie wrestled with this in her head. The same dilemma she’d been fighting her whole life. It had become a tired old lament she tortured herself with on a daily basis. At least this family, the Argyle family, wasn’t making her see a shrink anymore for thinking her mother was still alive.

  Sadie quickly remembered the first time she told Mrs. Argyle she knew her mother was still alive. How she was probably wandering, lost, confused, with some sort of amnesia, trying to work things out. Mrs. Argyle smiled at Sadie and asked her to sit with her in the parlor to tell her all about it. Sadie, at first thinking it was a trick, only said a few, small things. But then, after realizing the woman really was genuinely interested and wasn’t going to send her away, Sadie let loose and told her all her theories, starting with the body.

  If Sadie knew these things, she really didn’t understand why the police didn’t. It made so much sense. To have a car crash without finding a body? Granted, the car careened into the river, but eventually, wouldn’t a body wash up somewhere? And the police theories about animals dragging it away, well, there haven’t been coyote sightings in Cranberry Grove or the surrounding towns for over three decades. There weren’t any other large animals so Sadie just didn’t buy that theory. And wild dogs, well, she hadn’t seen any of them either. Even the fishes couldn’t dispose of a body that quickly.

  If her mother were dead, her body would have bee
n found sooner or later. Sadie just knew it. She told all of this to Mrs. Argyle freely and without constraint. It felt good to actually let it all out. Mr. and Mrs. Argyle were probably analyzing her themselves, and that was okay with Sadie if it meant not going to the therapists twice a week. All they wanted to do was put her on medications that made her head feel like a balloon. And the one set of pills made it so she felt nothing. Sadie didn’t like crying all the time, but at least she felt something. While on the medications she walked around in a balloon-headed stupor, numb to anything and everything. Though the pain of it all still burned deep, she would much rather deal with it as opposed to feeling nothing. She just wanted to feel like herself, even if that meant she were sad all the time. At least there might be a chance at feeling happiness again without all those medications to cloud her mind.

  As she made her way home, Sadie stopped torturing herself with thoughts of her mother. Sadie didn’t think about Crazy Mary and what she said. She didn’t notice the pelting sleet and cold evening autumn air. She didn’t think about not having her mom anymore. She didn’t think about her upcoming birthday being combined with Halloween. And she didn’t notice the large man in a long black wool trench coat with his hat pulled down over his eyes standing in the alleyway between Johnson’s Title and Tag Service and Dipsy’s Doughnuts watching her every move.

  * * *

  As Sadie lay sleeping in her bed, an ominous dark cloud, not unlike the metaphorical one her prior foster families always said hung over her, settled over the house. It only hovered over this house, her house, and it seemed to breathe as it enveloped the rooftop. It was a strange, dark cloud, unusual in its appearance. Its appearance was as curious as those times when it rained in the front yard, but not the back yard.

  Sadie stirred under the covers and began to blink her eyes. A noise awoke her. It was a noise that much was obvious. It wasn’t music or singing or a sound. It wasn’t anything like that. It wasn’t anything that denotes something good sounding. It was noise, but it was an attractive noise. It drew her in like a moth to the flame. The noise grew louder yet was not an assault on her ears. It was a cacophony of sounds all blended together to make “that noise.” Humming, fragments of sentences and the clink, clatter, and clash of daily objects all blended together to make that attractive noise the background music for something that made her feel good. It made her feel good because it was home, and it had been a long time since Sadie had a “home.”