by K. J. Emrick
“Was she?” Jon asked her.
Darcy didn’t understand. “Was she what?”
“I mean, was she a witch? I know you’re not. You just have these special abilities that make you… well, special. A sixth sense. An intuition. That doesn’t mean you’re a witch, but there are witches out there, and not all of them are evil like in the movies. Could she have been a witch who almost died for her beliefs?”
“Well, well, well,” Darcy said with a smile. “That’s very open minded of you.”
That earned her one of his rare, wonderful laughs. “I live with Darcy Sweet. I had to have an open mind right from the start.”
She put her hand over his on the table. Suddenly, sitting right next to him was too far away. “Do you have any regrets?”
“Honestly? Yes. Just one.”
She felt her heart sink, but she kept it from showing on her face. “Oh? Um, what’s that?”
He lifted her hand and kissed her middle knuckle. “I regret not meeting you sooner.”
That sent her heart kicking back into high gear, spreading a warmth all through her. If she’d known Jon when she was in her teens, maybe she never would have married Jeff, her first husband. There had been good times in that first marriage, but it had ultimately fallen apart and left her bitter and alone. With Jon, things would have been different. They would have been wonderful.
Just like they were now.
After the ice cream was gone and everyone’s bowls had been rinsed and put in the sink to be washed tomorrow, Jon and Darcy gave the kids the bad news that it was bedtime. Zane yawned as he reached up to his daddy, asking to be flown up the stairs. Jon couldn’t help but oblige him, grabbing him up from the floor, tossing him in the air, catching him on the way down while Darcy held her breath and tried not to freak out. They did this all the time, and every time she was worried something would go wrong and they would end up headed right back to the hospital.
Nothing ever went wrong, though. Jon always caught Zane, and then hoisted him up on his shoulder to ‘fly’ him around the room.
Cha Cha shuffled after them, catching his ear under his paw again and again, barking at them furiously, loving this game.
“Cha Cha wants fly too,” Zane told Jon. He giggled and flung his hands out wide like Superman. “Silly doggy. Only peoples can fly.”
The puppy stopped, and sat down, and barked twice.
“And birds,” Zane translated. “Birds fly, too.”
Jon watched the conversation between the boy and his dog, and smiled a goofy grin, happy as only Jon Tinker could be to see his son developing his paranormal skills.
Tiptoe rolled over and stretched her paws in the air, mrrowling as she did.
“No!” Zane laughed even harder. “We don’t eat birds! Birds is our friends!”
Jon lifted him up higher, flying him across the room and to the stairs, heading him up to bed, chanting “Birds is our friends! Birds is our friends!”
Darcy winced at the bad grammar. She didn’t say a thing, because she was enjoying all of this far too much to worry about it this time.
Standing at Darcy’s elbow, Colby sighed. “Boys. Whatever will we do?”
Darcy put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, sighing even more dramatically. “I know, right? Just think. One day you’ll have a boy of your own to live with all the time, like I live with your father.”
“Ew, gross,” was the immediate answer. Darcy saw the look in her eyes, though. Her young lady was dreaming about the day she would be grown up, and in love, and watching her own family with pride just like Darcy was doing right now.
“Hey, Colby?” she asked her gently. “Do you feel… different?”
There was no reason to explain that question. Colby understood that her mother was asking her about the removal of the ghost that had been riding inside her body. Willamena said she was making Colby stronger in the family gift. The old woman’s spirit had made it sound like a good thing, like she was giving Colby some wonderful present instead of stealing her childhood from her.
Darcy was still mad at herself for not seeing what was going on all these years. What sort of permanent harm might her daughter have suffered after all that time? They might never know. She still looked the same. Darcy had been watching her closely since leaving the hospital and she was certainly acting like the same girl Darcy knew and loved.
But did she feel any different about herself?
After a moment, Colby shrugged. “I don’t really know, Mom. I feel like me, but what about when I wake up tomorrow? Will I dream tonight, and if I do will the dreams come true like they do sometimes? I dunno.” She shrugged again, like it didn’t matter. “I’ll still be me, no matter what.”
“Even if you don’t have such a strong connection to our family gift anymore?”
“Well, sure. The gift doesn’t make me who I am. It’s a part of me, but it’s not me, you know?”
“Yes, I do indeed.” Darcy hugged her close to her side. “That’s good enough for me, baby girl. Let’s get you up to bed. You’ve had a long day.”
“My birthday’s going to be longer,” Colby said, and then stopped mid-step, looking up at her mother. “I have… no idea why I said that.”
Neither of them did, and that fact made Darcy smile. Willamena had been wrong. She wasn’t making Colby strong. Colby was already strong. “You said that, because you’re my daughter,” she told Colby, “and you’re going to be better at everything than I ever was. You’ll be amazing when you grow up. You’re pretty cool right now, as a matter of fact.”
Colby looked relieved to hear Darcy say that. She looked like that praise from her mother had been all she wanted to hear. Obviously, she’d been more worried about what had happened to her than she let on. Now both of them could rest a little easier.
Darcy knelt down and brushed the hair away from Colby’s face with her fingers. “I’m always here for you. Remember that, okay? Your dad and I, both. We love you so very, very much.”
Colby fixed her hair back to the way she wanted it, and then abruptly threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “Love you, too, Mom. Thank you.”
A squeak on the stairs drew Darcy’s attention. Jon was there, watching them, and the look on his face was one she would never forget. His love for them both was clearly written there.
Holding onto Colby, she smiled up at him, and mouthed the words, Love you too, Jon.
He blew her a kiss, and then went down to their room, waiting for her to join him later.
Death Lends a Hand
A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery Book 26
First published in Australia by South Coast Publishing, July/August 2019.
Copyright K.J. Emrick (2012-20)
Chapter 1
Sometimes, she liked to go walking past the graveyard.
Not inside the graveyard, of course. Inside the Applegate Road cemetery there were always lots and lots of departed souls who hadn’t actually gone anywhere. A number of them had been unlucky enough to get stuck here on the mortal coil, right here in Misty Hollow, without the strength or understanding to move on. Those ghosts always knew when Darcy Sweet was around, always sensed that there was someone nearby to tell their troubles to. She just wanted to enjoy a peaceful walk on a lazy August day. Suddenly finding yourself crowded by dozens of restless spirits would really cramp the mood.
So, she made sure to keep her feet on the pavement. Applegate Road was a looping, lazy street that wandered out of town to follow the curves of the Eel Weir River before gradually winding back into town again. Except for the cemetery and a few houses on either end, there wasn’t anything out here. Only trees, and the birds, and the gentle sound of rushing water to keep her company.
It was warmer than usual for an August day in New England. The sun beat down on the back of her neck from a pale and clear blue sky. She was very glad that she’d dressed in a blousy t-shirt and her cutoff jean shorts. This unexpected dry spell they were having had lasted for days a
nd the weatherman was calling for more of the same today. There had been a breeze when she started out this morning but somewhere around the cemetery it had disappeared, almost as if the world had held its breath while she walked past the graveyard fence, and then forgotten to let it go again.
She smiled to herself as she turned her heart-shaped face up to the sun, feeling her hair tumble back like black raven’s wings against her bare shoulders. Every schoolchild knew the superstition of holding their breath while passing a graveyard. Darcy used to sing the rhyme with her friends when she was little, playing ring-around-the-rosie on the playground.
“Hold, hold, hold the breath. The air, the air, it smells liked death! Don’t you breathe, no, no, no! Or into your mouth the ghosties go!”
It was funny to think about now. As a grown-up she knew there was no chance of accidentally sucking in a ghost with a deep breath of cemetery air. That was just nonsense. Like the whole “light as a feather, stiff as a board” thing girls liked to do at slumber parties. Back then, stuff like that would scare them into fits of hysterical giggles. Now, Darcy knew better. Ghosts could possess people, most certainly, but not from a simple deep breath on a morning stroll.
There were plenty of things to be afraid of in this world. That wasn’t one of them.
She checked the little Mickey Mouse watch on her wrist and saw that it was still only midmorning. She had plenty of time before she had to get back. It was Sunday, and the Sweet Read Bookstore was closed by executive decision of the two owners—herself, and her good friend Izzy McIntosh. It was much too nice of a day to be at work, they had both decided.
Even Darcy’s children had things to do today. Colby was hanging out with a new friend from school as she had been doing for most of the summer break. Jon had taken their son Zane to the playground over in Meadowood for the morning so they could have some father and son time. Zane’s eyes had lit up when he found out it was going to be just him and Daddy.
Darcy tried not to let that make her jealous. It was okay if Jon was Zane’s favorite parent. Her little boy still loved her, and he showed her so every day.
But right now, it was just her, taking a peaceful walk on the edges of Misty Hollow.
“Arf!”
Well. Just her, and the family dog.
Cha Cha was still a puppy at heart. He was always going to be a small dog no matter how old he got, even if his fur had darkened from a light tan to a more mature chestnut brown, and even if he was tall enough now that his floppy ears no longer got caught under his paws at every step. He still didn’t come up to her knee. He never would, and he was setting their pace with his stubby legs. Somehow, Darcy knew that whatever his age he would always wag his tail with enthusiasm at taking a walk. Or at a thrown stick. Or a belly rub. Or a butterfly wandering across the front lawn. Or… well, just about anything, really.
The thought wasn’t even complete in Darcy’s mind when she saw him go tearing across the road after a robin that had flown in low and fast. The bird chirped out a complaint at finding this miniature four-legged beast chasing after it. Those wings beat fast and furious to make the climb back up into the sky again.
Cha Cha stopped in the middle of the field and stared after the bird with his head cocked to one side. The look on his face was priceless. Darcy could just imagine what was going through his mind. No fair. Why can’t I fly?
“For Pete’s sake,” she laughed, making sure there were no cars coming before she called him back. Applegate Road was usually quiet, but you never knew. You always had to be careful as the mama of a furbaby. “Come on, Cha Cha. Let’s keep going. We’re halfway around. Hear the water? Want to go down to the river for a little bit?”
He barked at the idea and jumped up and down on his front paws. Whether he actually understood her or not she couldn’t say. Understanding animals was her son’s talent. Not hers.
All Darcy could do was talk to ghosts.
There had never been a boy born into her family who had inherited the gift in any form. As far as Darcy knew, the family gift had only ever been passed from mother to daughter. Never to a son. At least, not until now. Zane’s ability had been very unexpected and had meant a lot of adjustment for the Tinker-Sweet household. In a good way. For them, normal had always been boring.
“Bam bow wow, right Cha Cha?”
“Arf!” her dog agreed. “Arf, arf!”
“Yeah, but you say that about everything.”
There were places where the water ran closer to the road and where the grassy shoulder sloped down through the trees to the riverbank. Darcy found a beaten path that wandered its way through birches and a few pines and past one scraggly crab apple tree. Probably a path made by deer, or kids who had used this as a party spot during the summer. There were a number of teenagers in Misty Hollow now. Lots of kids, too. The town had really grown from when she first moved here, all those years ago.
Cha Cha raced ahead and splashed in the water’s edge, getting wet and muddy, but Darcy didn’t scold him. For now, he could have fun. They could get him clean when they got back home. Not that their dog liked baths. He hated them, actually, but he’d learned they were a part of life. Zane had tried to explain to him why baths were important, but since Zane wasn’t overly fond of them himself, it had only sort of worked.
The other furbaby member of the Tinker-Sweet home was a beautiful gray cat who took care of bathing herself. She was independent in a lot of ways, just like her daddy had been.
Darcy listened to the babbling water jumping over rocks and lapping at the shoreline. It whispered things that she couldn’t understand. Hidden meanings without any words. It relaxed her, and for a long time she just leaned with one shoulder up against a broad tree trunk as the world turned.
She could almost drift off to sleep right here. Sleep, and dream, and maybe find Great Aunt Millie in those dreams. They hadn’t spoken in a while. They were overdue for a chat. Just drift away and sleep…
With a giant splash Cha Cha let out a single, hesitant bark.
Darcy opened her eyes again and looked up and down the riverbank with its overgrown weeds and muddy edges. Where’d that puppy dog go?
A dead tree had fallen over not far away, jutting out into the water, shifting the current and forming a little eddy pool where leaves and twigs swirled slowly around themselves, stuck in an endless circle of movement. Cha Cha was down there, sniffing at the water, his tail drooping instead of wagging.
“What is it?” she asked him. “Did you find a fish?”
Jon had tried taking her fishing down here a couple of times, back when they were first dating, but she just couldn’t get the hang of it. You picked up a slimy worm, pierced it on a hook, and then threw the hook in the water hoping something would see it and bite at it. Then you sat, and you waited. If you were lucky enough to have a fish take the hook you had to pull it in, fighting the water the whole time, and then came the really fun part where you got to slice your dead fish open and carve its guts out. Darcy much preferred to buy her fish frozen and breaded from the grocery store. Maybe with a nice lemon pepper seasoning.
When Cha Cha kept sniffing at the water, she went down to see what had grabbed his interest this time. At first, she couldn’t see anything in the foamy water of the tidepool except dead bugs and matted leaves. The river was darker here, and it was harder to see down to the shallow, sandy bottom. Bracing herself against the dead tree she leaned down to peer closer. Out in the middle it was deeper, of course, and besides fish there were supposedly eels and leeches down there, but over here the bottom was just a few inches lower than the surface and she should have been able to see—
There was something there, actually. It was darker than the water, and hard to make out, but she knew she should be able to recognize it for what it was. The silhouette was oddly familiar…
Thick and wide at the base, four long and curled protrusions at the top, one stubby lump at the side.
Darcy gasped. A hand. That was a hand in the water.
A human hand.
For a moment, panic set in, and her mind flew through a dozen different scenarios of how a severed human hand, all curled up and withered, had found its way into the river outside of Misty Hollow. None of the things she pictured were particularly pleasant. Then she took a deep breath and told herself to settle down. She had reached over to touch the antique ring on the finger of her right hand, the one she had gotten from Great Aunt Millie. It was her good luck charm. At times like this, when she was scared or anxious, it helped to feel it there.
She rolled her eyes at how foolish she was being. Of course that wasn’t a hand down there. Not a real hand, anyway. It might be a store mannequin’s appendage. Or part of a doll that someone had thrown carelessly into the river upstream. Or part of a porch display for last October’s Halloween decorations. Some of her neighbors went all out for Halloween, putting up life-sized zombies or mummies or Frankenstein monsters to scare the kids. Yeah. That must be what she was looking at. Just a fake hand from a fake monster.
Except, this was Misty Hollow. Strange things happened here—murders, and worse—and somehow, she always managed to find herself right in the middle of it.
Swallowing, she pressed her hand to her stomach to calm the flutter of butterflies that had suddenly burst into life there. She knew what she had to do. She just didn’t relish the idea.
Back up the hill, she found a branch about as long as her forearm that had fallen off a pine tree. The needles were dead and brown, and most of them fell off when she picked it up, but it would make a decent enough broom. She tested it by slapping it against the ground twice. More of the needles flew away but it didn’t break. Good.