“Where do you think your ability came from?” Grace went on.
“My…” she looked around at all of them. “You… I…” She looked for her coffee and realized it was all over the porch floor. “I don’t have any idea what you mean.”
Nick poured her another mug and handed it to her. The cookie reappeared in her lap.
She took a sip of the coffee, staring down at the cookie then up at Craig.
“Do you remember when I got lost in that cave up on the mountain?” Grace asked.
As if she could forget. Grace had only been eight. Pops had told all of them horrible stories after that episode. Stories designed to keep any curious kids from exploring out there on their own.
She nodded.
It had happened right after Gram’s death. Right before their father had threatened to take all of them away from Pops and the mountain—forever. Right before Thea had discovered that she could make her father do exactly what she told him to do.
“There is something in that cave,” Grace went on. “Something very, very old. Something our great-great-great grandmother Lily discovered. It’s a room at the heart of the mountain with a wall covered in ancient carvings. In the center of all those carvings is a handprint.”
Thea looked at Nick and the Nobletts. None of them seemed the least bit surprised by what Grace was saying.
“When I was lost in the cave I put my hand in that handprint, and that changed all of our lives.” Grace laid a hand on her expansive waist.
“And the world,” Craig spoke up.
Trish took his hand. “For the better.”
Nick nodded. “When Grace and I were trapped in that cave last fall, we found the room again. And we found Granny Lily’s journal. In her journal she described her own gift.”
“She was a healer,” Grace continued. “Not only an Appalachian granny witch, but a true healer. I don’t know if you remember Pops’s stories about her, but she cured a young boy of whooping cough and, according to her journal, she created tinctures and remedies that saved many, many others. Her medicines were much more potent than any herbal remedies.” Grace waved her hand. “But most of that is only of interest to me. The important things for all of us were in her predictions.” She stopped and looked at Nick, who reached into his pocket to unfold two pieces of paper.
“You know how long Granny Lily lived,” Nick said.
Thea nodded. Her headstone clearly indicated she had been well over one hundred when she died.
“Towards the end of her life, she wrote out a series of predictions. We think she might have had a bit of precognition along with her healing gift.” Nick handed Thea the papers. “She focuses on the environment as you can see.”
It was a color copy of a page yellowed with age, with faded writing that looked like a poem written in calligraphy. The second page was a printed version of the same thing.
Except for the frogs and crickets singing beyond the porch light, everyone was silent as Thea read.
The first part of the verse was a poetic retelling the firefly story. It had been told and retold ages ago and recorded here by Granny Lily. And her son had told it to Pops. He would have loved to have seen this page come to light. She stroked the words on the paper, as though they could connect her to him.
“It’s the ending to Pops’s firefly tale.”
Grace nodded. “Exactly. All the things we’re worried about—the shrinking of the polar ice, mountaintop removal mining, the honey bee population, the fouling of the oceans—she predicts them all. But the most important thing she foretold was what we call the Kindling. Those last seven lines.”
Thea looked up at the Nobletts. They were a part of this?
She read the last lines aloud. “Then will a girl-child wake the old magic once more, when the need is dire, and those who are burdened will be kindled. Then her people will learn again to hear her voice, and She will sing. For a single firefly cannot subdue the darkness, but thousands can kindle magic.”
“And we do know what happened when I touched that wall,” Grace said.
“Those who are burdened.” Thea dug her nails into her palm. Bailey was frantic to get back into her lap.
“Look at your ankle, Sissy,” Grace said. “You can take the wrap off. You don’t need it.”
Uncertain, Thea unwrapped the elastic bandage Grace had wound around her ankle.
It wasn’t swollen. It looked fine, even though it had already achieved purple melon status at the reception by the time Nick had carried her back to the table.
And the dreadful cold she’d had the morning she arrived had vanished, without a sniffle.
“You’re a healer.”
Grace nodded again. “We all have gifts.”
“Daniel?”
“Daniel has visions of the future.”
Daniel had always suffered with his dreams and nightmares, but he wouldn’t talk about them with her. Of course, Thea hadn’t said anything about her strange ability either.
Grace as a healer made so much sense, now that Thea thought about how good she felt when she was around her. She’d always thought it was being on the mountain— being home.
“And you’re a magician?” Thea looked at Craig. “For real? Not just illusions.”
“I can only teleport things. Not very well, but I’m working on it,” Craig said.
Thea shook her head in disbelief. “Only teleport.”
“Sometimes things don’t reappear. We don’t know where they go, exactly. And sometimes they turn up again in odd places.” Trish smiled. “So he hasn’t tried it on any living things—”
“Yet,” Craig chimed in.
Thea pulled Bailey, who was still jumping on her leg, up into her arms.
“I read the future using my cards. A different way than Daniel,” Trish said.
“And Mel?” Thea asked.
“Mel can read and send emotions,” Craig said. “What you might call a tele-empath.”
That explained why they’d wanted Mel here in the midst of all this emotional turmoil. Thea looked expectantly at Nick. “And you?”
“Intuition.”
Grace agreed. “Amazing intuition.”
Thea looked around the porch. It was unbelievable. They seemed so content with these overwhelming abilities and the terrifying responsibilities that must go with them. Of course, their “gifts” didn’t steal away people’s free will.
But she wasn’t the only one. She wasn’t alone.
“What about Ouida? Or Eddie? Did Pops—”
“We’re the only ones at this point.” Nick motioned around the porch. “Ouida and Eddie know nothing about this.”
“The gifts manifested after I touched the wall in the cave.” Grace added. “I don’t know if Pops was aware of them. He always explained away anything unusual that happened.”
“I think he might’ve noticed mine,” Thea said without thinking.
Grace stared at her. Damn. That was a mistake.
Grace’s eyes widened. She sat back, her hand over her mouth.
“Grace?” Nick said, standing to go to her. “Is it the baby?”
Grace shook her head. She gazed at Thea. “But you were… You were only six.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Thea said. “None of this matters. I—”
“You stopped him, didn’t you?” Grace said. “You’ve kept him away from here all these years. That was when he started you on the medication, wasn’t it?”
“What does that have to do with any of this?” Thea said.
“Grace?” Nick asked.
“Dad put Thea on meds after Gram died. He said it was for ADHD, but it wasn’t. It was for her temper.” Grace was furious. “At the funeral, he threatened to keep all of us away from Pops, away from here. And Thea was the one who stood up to him. Of all of us, she—”
“I lost my temper,” Thea snapped. “I did that a lot. I still do. But Dad didn’t like it, so he…sedated me.”
Trish had her hand over her mouth. Craig looked equally horrified.
“For years,” Grace added. “What did he have you on? Clonidine?”
Nick stood beside her, probably to keep his wife from launching herself to her feet.
Thea felt cold again and cupped her hands around the mug of steaming coffee. “Pops…Pops eased me off it every summer and eased me back on it in the fall.”
“Damn.” Nick put his hand on Grace’s shoulder.
“I wonder if somehow, deep down, Dad knew,” Grace said. “And he was afraid—”
“He didn’t know.” If he had Thea would never have been able to pull off her pointless coup. “He only knew I had a temper and he didn’t like it,” Thea said. “I wasn’t like you. I wasn’t calm and polite and obedient. That’s all it was. So he fixed me.”
“I didn’t know they could even give drugs like that to children,” Trish said.
“It was off-label back then,” Thea said. “The FDA didn’t approve it for children until recently. When I was old enough, Pops taught me how to pretend to take it and act like I was still on it.”
“That sounds like something Pops would do,” Grace said.
Nick just shook his head.
“You were only six and you used your gift to stop him,” Grace said. “You kept him away from here. You…You’re still keeping him away, aren’t you?”
“It isn’t a gift if it gets someone killed,” Thea said, using her attorney voice. Silence followed. She took a sip of her coffee and looked around the porch.
“That night at the festival,” Grace said finally. “I thought your voice sounded different—more powerful,” Grace said. “But you didn’t get Becca killed.”
“No, Marilyn did. After I made her drive away from the festival so fast that she went right off that curve,” Thea said.
“She was drunk,” Grace said. “If she hadn’t been drunk—”
“She wouldn’t have been driving at all if I hadn’t made her go away.”
“She would have driven at some point that night—”
“Grace,” Thea said firmly. “It is nearly impossible to win an argument with me. The best government lawyers have tried and failed.”
“I’ll bet,” Nick said under his breath.
“And the law degree made it worse,” Thea finished with a glare at Nick. “Why the Mother or the mountain or whoever gave me this gift I don’t know, because this gift in the hands of someone with my temperament is not the best combination. And Marilyn wasn’t the only time it happened.”
That stunned Grace into silence.
Her Grandfather Hartford had made the mistake of insisting that she go to Tanglewood one summer instead of coming back to the mountain. A few weeks after she had lost her temper and persuaded him otherwise, he had dropped dead. That had been when she was twelve, after she was off the medication.
But she didn’t elaborate now. She didn’t dare.
“You need to go into the cave with me,” Grace finally said. “Daniel had problems dealing with his abilities until he went in.”
“But not until after Lily is born,” Nick countered. “The room is good at hiding itself from everyone except Grace. We haven’t been willing to risk anyone getting lost in there.”
Grace frowned.
“It does make a difference, but it’s hard to explain,” Craig spoke up. “It’s like it completes a circuit.”
“It asks for your acceptance of the gift,” Trish added sagely.
“More like signing a contract,” Nick said.
Thea looked over and saw him lift an eyebrow at her. The man was infuriating. It was like he always knew what she was thinking.
“It increases the power of your gift as well,” Craig added. “I could never have moved that cup of coffee before I went in, just pennies and flowers. I’m getting stronger and more accurate all the time.”
Grace winced and closed her eyes. Her sister knew her far too well.
“I’m sincerely glad for all of you and I hope your gifts can make a difference. The world certainly needs a shove in the right direction.” She picked up Bailey and rose to her feet. “But I can kill someone with the wrong word. I don’t want to get any better at it.”
She turned and walked into the house.
Jake balanced the stack of packages carefully as he opened the post office door with his elbow.
“Thanks,” he said with a smile.
“You’re keeping us in business, Jake. Just remember to think of us when you start shipping those beauties,” the postmistress replied.
“Yes ma’am!” he said. That was another thing on his to-do list—find the best way to ship his instruments to online customers. It was one thing to insure a package, but considering the hours and days of work that went into one of his pieces—losing one that way was unthinkable. He could always buy an extra airplane seat for the box and deliver them that way, but not even this could persuade him to get on one of those flying tin cans. Hell, he didn’t even like other people to drive him anywhere, let alone fly.
He could almost hear Thea yelling “Control freak!” and smiled at the thought.
“I’m glad to see you in such a fine mood this morning,” his mom said in a withering tone.
Jake didn’t react. It felt inevitable somehow. “Actually, yes I am. Evidently you’re not.”
She stood on the sidewalk waiting for him, a pinched expression on her face. Whatever spell she had been under last night had long since worn off.
On the other hand, he was still in rather good spirits. The wedding had gone well—nearly perfect, with only one glaring mishap. He cringed when he thought of Thea’s swollen ankle. But on the upside, he’d been inundated with requests for the band’s and the shop’s business cards. Hopefully Thea would take it easy for a while and heal up. With luck she might stay a bit longer than she intended.
He walked across the bridge over the creek to his store, his mother following behind. “Is Sarah open this early? I thought she was a creature of the night and lived in shadows.”
“You go ahead and make fun, Jake Moser. But she sees and knows things that you and I can’t see or know.”
Here we go again. “Sounds scary. So, did you have a good time at the reception?”
She paused on the bridge, but he kept going until he reached the store. He had left the door open, the post office was only steps away and he could see the place the whole time he was in there picking up his mail. He turned at the doorway and looked back to see her still deep in thought.
“The food was delicious and the people at my table were quite nice,” she said finally, catching up with him.
“Really?” If he pressed her, did he risk disrupting whatever frail construction she’d erected in her brain that had helped her enjoy the evening?
Maybe he was getting drawn into her psychosis, thinking that Thea had something to do with her strange behavior. Who could ever predict what his mom was going to do or say next? Anything was possible with her.
“I’m glad,” he said.
“And your band was quite good. Everyone seemed to enjoy the dancing.”
That was really odd. She had never approved of his music, much less praised it.
“Thanks.” He went into the shop with his packages. He still needed to finish tuning one of the hammered dulcimers. Traffic in the shop was going to start picking up tonight as some of the performers and the public came into town the night before the festival.
“Except for Thea Woodruff,” she went on. “Falling down like that and trying to be the center of attention at her own brother’s wedding. Honestly.”
Jake set the stack of boxes and mail next to the counter. “I hope she’s doing b
etter today.”
His mom made a clucking sound. “She looked just fine when I saw her a minute ago. She was right down the street.”
“What? Her ankle…” He stopped, remembering Grace’s fingers on his scar and Nick’s bloodstained vest. “Well that’s good. I’m glad she didn’t injure it too badly.”
His mom snorted. “She overreacts to everything with that temperament of hers. Always a drama queen, even when she was little.”
A memory surfaced—a similar conversation from when he was seven or eight. His mom had accused Thea of being a drama queen then too, for throwing a fit and yelling at her father during the grave-side service for her grandmother. It had resulted in an exchange of blows, Jake recalled, between her father and her grandfather—which had been the last time her father had set foot on the mountain. Jake’s dad had defended her, saying how much Thea had loved her Gram and how the Woodruff kids weren’t real close with their own parents. That was when he had first heard the word “dysfunctional”. He supposed it had been memorable because the whole situation had been so traumatic for Thea, and by association, for him.
It was not long after that his mom had started drinking and his family had become dysfunctional.
But at least this was normal gossip from his mother, not conspiracies and whispers of evil lurking around the Woodruffs.
“That does sound like Thea, although I think she’s mellowed out a bit since then,” he said carefully. How long would this last?
She made a dismissive sound. “Mellowed.”
“Why are you in town this morning?” Jake asked.
“Because I heard about those babies and I wondered what you were doing about it,” she said, though her eyes drifted towards Sarah’s shop.
So Sarah was worried about the babies? “I’m sure Charlie’s handling it.”
She leaned close. “Do you think it could be some kind of weird ritual? Someone planning to sacrifice them or something?”
Jake nearly rolled his eyes. Sarah was getting worse if she had put that idea in his mother’s head. He was beginning to wonder about her mental state more than his mother’s. He rarely saw her leave that place and when she did, she looked like what she purported to be, an old crone haunted by ghosts. And she was dragging his mom down with her. “Seriously, Mom?”
Making Magic: Books of the Kindling, Book 3 Page 13