by J. M. Miller
He stood and padded over to me. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, bending beside me and smoothing his hand over my head. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll close the door. Go back to sleep.”
I closed my eyes again, wondering if I was dreaming as I felt his lips kiss my forehead.
The back of my eyelids looked like they were on fire. What time is it? I opened my eyes to the bright room and stared at the alarm clock until the numbers came into focus. Just after nine. What time did I go to sleep? A bunch of noises came from inside the closet. I rolled over, noticing books, papers, and files strewn across the floor in front of the closed door.
What the hell?
The chill of the room attacked my skin the instant I left my comforter. I glanced down at my bare legs and picked at the hemline of the green T-shirt I was wearing. Why would I only wear a shirt to sleep when it’s so cold? I needed to buy some flannel pajamas.
I shuffled over to the closet, listening to the muted sounds behind the door before opening it wide. Ben was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out, papers covering every inch of his jeans. The trapdoor was open behind him and Aunt Janine’s antique trunk was open beside him.
His eyes rolled over my body, lingering deliciously on my legs.
“Morning,” I said, staring at the dark depressions under his gorgeous eyes.
“Morning,” he replied with a tiny grin, setting a few papers on the floor.
I squatted next to him and ran my hands over his short hair, enjoying the way it tickled my fingers. “I like this haircut,” I purred as I leaned in closer to him. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply. I loved how he reacted to my touch, how his body surrendered to me. Taking advantage, I slid my leg over the papers and straddled his lap. His eyes opened again as I ran my hands down his neck and brought my lips to his.
His hands slid up my bare thighs, squeezing firmly once then letting go. He backed out of the kiss by dipping his head sideways. “LJ, wait… Dammit,” he mumbled, looking down between us and scrubbing his face with his hands. “Sorry.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, sliding off his lap and kneeling beside him.
“I’m okay, just a little tired.”
“You look really tired. Did you sleep at all?”
“No, I didn’t. But that’s not a big deal. Listen, I’ve been able to stay quiet enough that your dad still doesn’t know I’m here. He’s up already, though. I think he’s downstairs in the kitchen,” he said, then stopped to listen for a second, hearing nothing. “Like we discussed last night, we need to talk to him about the well. I’m thinking I should call Pop over to help break the news. Someone else on our side can’t hurt, right?”
I reprocessed his words. Telling Dad about the well. Bits of last night started filtering into my thoughts: pulling on the green shirt—Ben’s shirt—to go to bed, helping him sort through some papers, him tucking me in. I rubbed my temples. “Why are we telling him again? I’m trying to remember. I don’t remember,” I admitted, realizing that I’d lost something new.
He grabbed hold of my hand, entwining our fingers. “I found Gavin by the well yesterday and we decided that we have to find a way to stop this before it hurts anyone else.”
A single tear slid down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away, knowing I had to hold myself together. “I remember that now.” Ben’s sweet words from last night rushed back to me too, filling my heart with more love than I’d ever known. He never wanted to leave me. No matter what ended up happening, I knew I’d never be alone.
“Hey,” he said, getting up on his knees and slipping his arms around me. “It’s going to be okay.”
Even though doubt had already smothered every bit of my hope, I believed him.
He kissed my lips lovingly. “Now get dressed, Bubbles. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day.”
I decided to shower too because I honestly couldn’t remember if I’d taken one yesterday. When I finished dressing and towel drying my hair, Ben was sitting on my bed with more papers scattered around. “Have you found anything?”
“No,” he replied, setting a stack down and standing up. “But hopefully we’ll have more eyes as soon as we get downstairs and spill the truth.”
I nodded and twisted my fingers together nervously. How can I tell Dad this? It all sounded crazy. Crazy. Same thing Mom had said. I talked to Mom? I could hear her voice so clearly. Aunt Janine was crazy. The idea of a curse is absurd.
Suddenly remembering the farewell letter I’d written to Dad yesterday, I snatched it out of the dresser drawer and tucked it into my pocket. Giving it to him today was for the best. He needed to know that I’d want him to move me into a facility. I dreaded the thought of him having to care for me when I could no longer take care of myself.
Ben pulled his phone from his pocket and punched his thumbs to the screen. After a moment, it chimed a notification. “Pop said he’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“What the hell are you doing in here?” Dad yelled from the doorway, startling us.
“Dad, I can—” I started to explain until Dad rushed in and grabbed Ben by the front of his shirt, shoving him backward.
“Mr. Wayde, I—” Ben said, then grunted harshly as Dad pinned him to the wall.
“Dad!” I screamed, grabbing his arm and yanking in a sad attempt to pull him off Ben.
“You have got to be some piece of shit to take advantage of her in this condition,” Dad growled.
“Dad!” I screeched. “Let him go! You don’t understand.”
Ben kept his hands out to his sides, letting Dad manipulate his body with no resistance. “I know you don’t understand, but you will if you let us explain.”
Dad fists twisted the top of Ben’s shirt tighter and shoved him into the wall again. “Why should I listen to a kid who’s screwing with my daughter’s head?”
“Dad!” I screamed again. “Just listen! Please,” I cried, falling to my knees.
“LJ.” He finally let Ben go and squatted beside me. His hands fell on my shoulder, trying to comfort me, but I shrugged them off.
“No,” I said, getting to my feet. “You have to listen, Dad.” I moved to Ben, who had his hands shoved into his pockets, looking down at his shoes like a sad little boy. I looped my arm through his and he looked up at me uneasily.
Dad’s eyes were vacant, staring blankly at the wall. He sat on the bed and raked a shaky hand over his nose and mouth.
“I know how it looks, Mr. Wayde. Please, just hear me out. If you still think I’m a piece of shit after, I’ll leave. But I love your daughter, sir, and I always will.”
That snapped Dad’s eyes back to us. Their intensity had returned, nearly spitting flames with the amount of anger they contained.
“My memory loss has everything to do with this family, but not in the way you think,” I said, jumping right to the point. “Charles Stockton lived here with his family. He was in love with a servant named Dahlia…”
“Wentz,” Ben finished for me before walking to the closet and grabbing a picture from the floor. He stepped in front of Dad and showed him the image. “Charles didn’t marry Dahlia, he married someone else. Dahlia wasn’t thrilled about that, so she cursed the Stockton family using the stone well out back.”
Dad let out an irritated sigh. “A curse? You’re serious? You expect me—”
“Dad, this is serious. It’s all true. I can hear people’s wishes because of it, and I can grant them. My nose bleeds afterward. It’s the reason for my memory loss. It happened to Aunt Janine.”
“And that’s why her nickname was Genie,” Lloyd’s voice cut into the room. We all turned to see him standing in the doorway, rolling a toothpick over his lips. He shrugged off his jacket as he stepped into the room. Then he pulled some folded papers out of his back pocket and handed them to Dad.
Gavin shuffled in through the door behind him. “No one else answered the doorbell,” he said, lifting his cast hand with his thumb pointed toward the hall.
“You believe this, too?” Dad asked Lloyd with a much calmer voice.
Lloyd nodded and crossed his arms, propping them on the crest of his round stomach. “Genie told me the truth years ago. Unfortunately, she didn’t tell me everything. That’s why we don’t know if she even found a way to end it all.”
Dad’s eyes flitted back to Ben, softer now, more confused than angry.
Ben and Lloyd proceeded to tell him everything about Aunt Janine, the Stockton bloodline, Dahlia, and the well. They explained the papers Lloyd handed over as the Stockton family tree, which they were able to outline from the files Ms. Mitchell had given Ben. I added anything I could remember. The wishing process was the clearest thing in my mind, so I talked about it without much difficulty.
Dad chewed on the information cautiously, letting us speak with little interruption. Gavin listened also. He’d picked a spot on the bed and remained seated and silent the entire time.
“A real curse,” Dad said, staring out the window toward the well again. “How did she do it? How did she curse the well?”
“We’re not sure how. Spells. Magic. That’s what comes up in most online searches. Some say an incantation has to be spoken with rituals, others say just believing the words that are spoken is enough,” Ben replied beside me. His hand was locked with mine, his thumb rubbing circles my skin reassuringly.
“And we can’t just tear the well down?” Dad asked, still peering out the window.
“I asked Genie the same thing, wanting to help her,” Lloyd answered Dad. “She said it didn’t matter. As long as there was heartache here, there would always be a curse.”
I looked at the two well stones next to Gavin on the bed. When Ben removed them from the trunk earlier, I struggled to remember when we’d found them. The first came back immediately, along with the feeling of Ben folding himself around me after we’d read the stone’s words, here in my room.
Give of yourself, part of the line. Make one wish to set the bind, I read the words from the first stone. My gaze slid over to the second. Memories gained, memories lost. For someone’s today at your yesterday’s cost.
A few minutes ago, Ben told the room he’d found the second stone in Janine’s office the day after the Halloween party. I tried to remember…
Dad finally turned to look at all of us again. He placed a hand on his hip, looked down to the floor, and rubbed his forehead for a silent minute. When his eyes lifted, they met mine. He took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “You’ve searched throughout this house already. What can we hope to find? The last stone?”
“Possibly,” Lloyd replied, dropping the arm he had propped on top of the tall dresser. He dug his fingers into his hips and resituated his pants. “Or it could be a few words written on something as small as a sticky note. Genie stashed things all over this house, forgetting where she’d placed them, forgetting what she’d even done. She’d often zone out, especially toward the end.”
I felt Ben’s hand squeeze mine, realizing then that everyone’s eyes had found their way to me. I bit my lip to hold the tears in then pressed my face into Ben’s shoulder when the first tear evaded my efforts. His arms instantly sheltered me, pulling me closer to his stable body as mine began to shake. The truth had never hurt so much. I knew what I had done. I knew I had willingly walked farther along that plank. But now that my toes curled over the edge, the vastness of the water below scared the shit out of me. How can I survive this?
“Zone out?” Dad asked.
Ben’s hands rubbed my back and caressed my hair, trying to soothe me. I took in a long breath, letting the smell of him fill me. His skin still smelled of mint, but I missed the hint of cut grass that blended with him so well. I remembered that much. With a few more breaths, my body trembles slowed.
“What do you mean by that?” Dad asked again since Lloyd was probably reluctant to speak after my reaction.
Another moment passed then Lloyd cleared his throat. “Well, she forgot a lot of things, but she also had these times where she was just not here. It usually happened while she painted. That was her hobby. It turned into more of an obsession when her focus became the well. She numbered them, possibly as a way to count the wishes she’d granted. I’m sure it eventually turned into a way to keep track of the times she zoned out, though I doubt it was accurate count,” Lloyd said.
“She zoned out while she painted?” Dad asked. “LJ has done that while cleaning.”
The pain in his words was heartbreaking. I didn’t have the courage to turn and see it in his eyes. I also couldn’t face the amount of pity building inside the room. Instead, I pushed myself closer to Ben and placed my ear to his chest, listening to his heart’s calming rhythm.
“Should we get to it then?” Ben’s voice boomed through his chest, resounding and comforting. “I think we’ve been through the basement enough. The office probably needs a more thorough check, and the other rooms downstairs too.”
“Sounds like a good place to start,” Lloyd agreed.
“Yeah, okay,” Dad agreed somberly. “Do you mind if I speak with LJ for a minute, alone?”
Ben’s hands stopped moving and I nodded into his chest. “Okay. I’ll be in the office.” He bent over and kissed my forehead.
I watched them walk out before turning to Dad. He was motionless for a moment, silently staring. Then he took quick, long strides across the room and wrapped me in his arms.
“LJ, I’m so sorry. You should’ve told me earlier, honey. Never mind, never mind. None of that matters. I believe it all. If it meant a chance at helping you, I’d believe anything.” His arms constricted, crushing me to him like he never wanted to let go.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I said, the intensity of his hug taking me back so many years.
His arms loosened and he turned his head to Gavin, who was still sitting on the bed. “You too, Gavin. I love you, bud. There’s nothing I won’t do for either of you.”
Nothing he won’t do. When he released me fully, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my letter. “I’ve written a few things down… in case things don’t—”
“Don’t,” he said sternly, shaking his head and grabbing the paper. He shoved it into his own pocket and hugged me again. “Let’s focus on now, all right?”
I nodded against him.
“Now, let’s go tear this place apart.”
We were four hours into the search. The five of us had been through hundreds of books and ledgers; explored the walls, bookcases, and furniture for any hidden compartments; and even looked inside the frames of the few old pictures that sat on Janine’s desk. Nothing.
Nothing. I flipped through more pages.
Nothing.
Nothing!
“Dammit!” I chucked the leather-bound ledger halfway across the room at the large study table, stacked with more dead ends. It bounced open and spat some of its pages onto the office’s hardwood floor.
“Ben,” Pop said, glancing up from behind Janine’s desk. “You haven’t slept. Maybe you should take a break.”
Carson and Gavin had gone to get drinks a few minutes ago and LJ had excused herself to use the bathroom, leaving Pop and I alone in the office. During that little stretch of time, I felt myself slipping. My emotions were clawing their way to the surface. I’d been holding everything in for LJ. I needed to be strong for her. And that was proving more difficult with every unanswered question, every new dead end.
“I can’t,” I replied, shaking my head.
“She won’t think any less of you, son. No one will.”
“I will,” I admitted. I’d already wasted too much time drinking my self-pity as LJ lost pieces of herself. I couldn’t stop for a break now. I’d never forgive myself.
He nodded his head once, knowing he’d never change my mind.
Just as I moved to pick up the ledger I’d thrown, the doorbell rang. “Probably Simone,” I said, looking over at Pop.
Carson didn’t want to lie to Simone, but he didn’t want to explai
n things over the phone either. So, as planned, Simone was still coming for Thanksgiving dinner. I supposed it was a good thing Carson dumped the bird in the oven before he came up to LJ’s room this morning.
“He might need some help,” Pop said as he stood.
I agreed and followed him to the foyer, noticing LJ and Carson standing in front of the opened door.
“I should also apologize for my appearance,” a familiar voice came from behind the door. Not Simone’s. “This could be nothing at all, but I couldn’t let it wait in the event it turns out to be something of importance.”
“It’s no problem, Ms. Mitchell. Honestly,” Carson replied.
I lengthened my steps and walked up behind LJ, placing my hand on her back to let her know I was there. She tilted her head and smiled back at me.
“Ben… Lloyd. Hello,” Ms. Mitchell said after Pop appeared in the foyer behind us.
“Hello, Tricia. It’s nice to see you again,” Pop called.
“Hi, Ms. Mitchell,” I replied, staring at the curlers stacked high off her scalp. Her striped pajama bottoms were visible below her puffy knee-length jacket. She obviously hadn’t planned to leave her house today. But as soon as I spotted the manila envelope clutched underneath her now red fingernails, I knew why she had.
“It’s cold out there,” Carson said to her. “You should come in.”
“No, no,” she dismissed the idea with a curious smile directed at me. Maybe she was happy to see me here with LJ, though it looked to hold something else too. “I can’t stay. It wasn’t my intention to intrude on your holiday. I just wanted to give you this information.” She extended the envelope to Carson. “I found these in a different box from the first set. They must’ve gotten separated during one of our moves,” she said. “I’m in the phone book if you have any questions, but, honestly, it’s all a little puzzling to me too.”
“We’ll definitely let you know if we have any questions,” Carson said, indicating everyone with a brief glance at us.