They were marching single file.
I had to shake my head. Cats didn’t march. But it was a mystery I wasn’t going to delve into at the moment.
I set my ruined high heels by the door and padded quietly to the door opposite my room, where I found a tiny bathroom. I sighed in relief as I tested the shower and found that the water pressure was plenty strong.
After my shower, the bed looked too tempting to resist. It smelled like roses as I crawled under the covers. As my eyes started to close I could just see the sky, where twilight was falling. A stunning array of pinks and purples and fuzzy clouds met my drooping gaze.
That was the last thought I had before I fell asleep.
In the middle of the night I sprang awake to a gentle tapping. Shock and awe flooded me again and at first I was bewildered. Where was I? What was happening? Had the wedding gone off without a hitch as Bailey had hoped? Who was knocking?
But the tapping turned out to be nothing more serious than some branches brushing against the side of the house. Blossom had had all of thee trees torn down near my dad’s house, so I hadn’t heard the sound in so long that I didn’t recognize it.
Slowly my memory of the wedding day’s events started to return, and my shock only increased as I replayed the day’s events. Had all of that really happened? I looked down at the blue blanket. Sure enough, this was the same blanket I had pulled over myself before I’d gone to sleep. And over there was the window with a sweep of stars. I found myself smiling all over again at having a beautiful view even in the middle of the night.
But where were Lowe and Bethel?
Throwing off the covers, I got out of bed. On the little wicker chair at the foot of the bed was a stack of clothes.
It took me a minute to realize that they were mine. Without thinking, I pulled on a pair of jeans and my favorite brown sweater, which I loved because it was comfortable, not because it was stylish. I made sure to never wear it around Bailey, because she made fun of me every time she saw it.
When I saw a pair of my own sneakers sitting near the door, my head went spinning yet again. How had my stuff gotten here? Had my grandmother broken into my father’s house?
Then a pang hit me. My dad! What could he possibly be thinking? Surely he’d be worried about me, downright freaked out more likely. Would Blossom be worried about me? No, she definitely wouldn’t. Nor did I care about Blossom’s feelings either way.
Even aside from my dad, I’d had no time to think about anything since the disruption started at the wedding the day before. Maybe that was by design—Bethel’s—but even so, I was suddenly presented with a whole new life, and I had to figure out what I wanted to do about it.
Excitement warred with consternation and concern. I’d had plans. Maybe they weren’t good ones, and maybe my stepfamily was terrible and I was just as well away from them. But the situation I was in now hadn’t been a choice. Suddenly I was a witch, and I was supposed to just deal with it.
I needed to think more about it as the day and days went on. If this was going to be my life, I wanted to choose it willingly, or get out.
Stewing about these questions, I made my way down the dark hall, following my nose just as Lowe had suggested.
Lowe had been right; the aromas were too enticing to resist.
I decided that the first thing I’d do when I found Bethel would be to ask her about my dad and how to get in touch with him. He needed to know I was okay. I should probably even apologize to Bailey for leaving her big day like that.
That would be less pleasant, though; maybe I could send her a card. She wouldn’t care anyway, and if I sent her a card she could dramatically burn it for an audience.
I found the kitchen without any trouble. Bunches of herbs hung from the low ceiling and the stove and the purple kettle looked well used.
Set out in the middle of the old wooden table were crusty bread, cheese, grapes, and some carrot sticks. I fell on the food and scarfed it down. When I looked around for more I saw a pot on the stove, next to which was a bowl and more crusty bread. Once I’d devoured all of that as well, I started to wonder where my family was.
There was no sound in the house. Could Bethel and Lowe have gone out, or were they maybe asleep? And who had tapped on my door to wake me up? Or had I dreamed it?
I went back to the front door and looked out at the garden we had walked through when we arrived. A stunning sight met my eyes.
All throughout the garden were little creatures that looked like fairies and pixies, flying this way and that, diving around plants and over leaves. There was a lot of controlled chaos going on in front of me.
The little supernaturals appeared to be in a constant battle for the same territory, the tomato plants seemingly the prime real estate that everyone wanted. The tall plants were wound around metal frames, and all the fairies were zooming in and around those frames and the thick red tomatoes, while the pixies were laying traps for them. As I watched, the pixies overcame the fairies’ defenses on one of the tomato plants. Wild cheers ensued. Then the fairies attacked right back.
Just then I saw movement coming up the road that turned out to be Lowe and my grandmother hurrying along. In the middle of the night the only light came from the stars, but I could make out from their silhouettes that they were both wearing black hats and carrying baskets.
At the sight of them I started. They might wonder why I was spying on them! Quickly I tried to turn away, then stopped myself; there was no reason for me to pretend not to be standing there. They had brought me here themselves, after all.
I was about to turn away again, more deliberately, when a dark shape darted out of the weeds, with a second shadow following closely behind.
There was only one thing I could think of that looked like that: wolves.
I gasped.
They were racing toward my grandmother and my cousin.
My family would never make it home in time!
I screamed.
For a moment, all the pixies and the fairies ceased what they were doing. It was as if the pause button had been pressed.
Then they returned to their own battles. Ho hum, apparently.
In a panic, I darted out through the garden. The wolves were now in front of Lowe, snarling at her as I raced up the lane. The warm air pressed around me and I heard my feet slam into the hard dirt. Nothing else mattered but making sure Lowe and Bethel were safe.
Without a second thought I flung myself toward my endangered family. No one noticed me until I had nearly reached the wolves.
Then my grandmother looked up and her eyes went wide. She waved her hand and the wolves ceased all motion.
Lowe said, “What are you doing awake?”
“What I’m usually doing up in the middle of the night. Stress eating,” I said, deflated.
I had probably burned several pounds’ worth of calories since I fled Bailey’s wedding. Now I had replaced some of it with cheese.
“Technically you missed lunch and dinner. I wouldn’t necessarily say it was stress eating,” Lowe said.
“Good point. The fact that I happened to be stressed while I was eating doesn’t mean the same thing,” I agreed.
The wolves were still motionless at my feet. I found my head spinning yet again; it was becoming quite the regular thing. What had my grandmother done?
I glanced back at the house to see if the garden pixies and fairies were still ignoring us; they were. Plus, Tiger was now sitting on the porch, his tail swishing lazily and his fragmented green eyes taking in everything.
“Let’s get you inside. It’s going to get chilly out, and we still haven’t had a chance to talk,” said my grandmother.
Having the offer to talk dangled in front of me was all I needed. I turned around and walked with them back to the house, checking over my shoulder every few seconds to see if the wolves were in motion again. They weren’t.
It wasn’t until we walked through the garden filled with vegetables, pixies, and fairies t
hat I heard a whine. Looking back, I could see the wolves moving again, spinning around in circles looking confused.
But they were apparently irrelevant now; we had already gained the porch, and I knew we were safe there.
My grandmother led us inside, and I turned expectantly to both of them. Even though I hadn’t had enough sleep, I was wide awake. Now would be an excellent time for explanations.
“I’m terribly tired,” said my grandmother, issuing a large yawn.
I frowned at her. “You said we could talk, and besides all the questions I have about, well, everything, I want to know if those wolves were about to attack you,” I demanded.
Lowe glanced at my grandmother.
“Don’t worry about it dear,” said Bethel. “It’s all fine.”
“It didn’t look fine,” I pointed out.
My grandmother opened her mouth in another huge yawn. Seeing that she wasn’t going to answer my question about the wolves, I tried a different approach.
“My father is probably wondering where I am. I would like to get a message to him,” I said.
My cousin and my grandmother exchanged what could only be described as a dubious look.
“He isn’t wondering where you are. I promise he isn’t worried. Well, he might be worried. He does know where you are, but I can tell you more about that in the morning,” said my grandmother.
My mouth fell open a bit as she spun away. For an old lady she was moving awfully fast up the stairs.
I threw up my hands as Lowe looked at me sympathetically. “Don’t worry. Being steamrolled is the Rhinestone way,” she said with a smile.
“When do I get to do the steamrolling instead of being steamrolled?” I asked her.
She grinned at me. “I don’t know. When you find out, let me know.”
Then Lowe also turned and walked away. I was left in a dark hallway, in a strange house, in a magical borough of a magical town.
Because sure.
Chapter Ten
I thought I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, but luckily that was far from the case. I slept heavily and woke up in the morning to the birds chirping.
A glance out the window told me that the day wasn’t as sunny as yesterday. Still, it wasn’t raining, and that was something. I took my time getting ready as I tried to formulate an argument with my grandmother about why she needed to tell me more about the life she’d brought me to. Surely she should already have given me at least the headlines.
But no. She was avoiding any explanation about what was going on; that much was clear. I was starting to wonder if we had even needed to rush so fast to the town where she lived. Maybe she had paid that guy to pretend he was the sheriff just so I’d feel like I had to get away.
Bethel had also said that my father knew where I was. How that was possible was yet another mystery.
When I was finally ready, I emerged from my room and went in search of my grandmother. I found her in the kitchen wearing an old, stained apron, busy packaging herbs into jars. There was no sign of Lowe.
The dishes from the night before had been cleared away. What little food had been left uneaten had been stored, and in its place was another feast. My grandmother had set out croissants and cheese and steaming cups of coffee. There was also an array of fruits.
“Help yourself. It’s been a while since we had anybody to feed besides ourselves, and I must say I’m enjoying it,” said Bethel, her cheeks were rosy. “Don’t get too used to it, though. I’ll probably get sick of it again one of these days.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I said. I slid into one of the well-worn wooden chairs and pulled a croissant and some cheese toward me.
“I like to put a square of dark chocolate in my coffee along with the cream,” said my grandmother as she puttered away.
The familiarity struck home. That was something I had always done as well, and without saying a word I slowly moved to do it now. I was just taking a sip of my delicious chocolatey coffee when something brushed against my legs. I tried not to react, and managed to finish my mouthful before I looked down at my ankles.
Sitting there was a much smaller and more delicate cat than Tiger, gray with beautiful greenish eyes. He blinked up at me.
“Spunk. Don’t you be causing trouble at breakfast. She isn’t going to give you cheese,” warned my grandmother.
I glanced down at Spunk and saw a twinkle in his eye that told me that my grandmother’s mistrust was well-placed.
Right then and there I resolved to sneak him some cheese at the first opportunity.
But not right this moment.
Looking up at my grandmother, I said, “I think it’s time you explained exactly what’s going on. You said my dad knows where I am. How is that possible?”
My grandmother sighed and paused in her work, but she still didn’t say anything.
“You brought me here. You can’t have expected to do that without explaining what was going on,” I pointed out.
At that my grandmother got all frazzled. She tried to finish cleaning up the counter but was only half paying attention, and thus made a half-baked job of it. The cats (there were at least three in the room that I could spot) watched with interest. She knocked over a jar. She caught it before it smashed to the ground. She stepped on a banana peel (where that had come from I had no notion). She had so much trouble getting her apron off that I went over to help her.
“Fine, I’ll tell you why your father knows where you are. Let’s just sit down, shall we? Before something else goes wrong.” She came over to the table and sat. Before I could return to my own seat, she started plying herself with fruit.
With some concern, I asked if she was okay.
“Stress eating is a family trait,” she told me with a mouth full of grapes.
“Seems like we have a lot of those,” I pointed out.
She ignored me and kept eating. I returned to sipping coffee and eating cheese. Spunk was still sitting at my feet.
I let my eyes flick to my grandmother to see how closely she was watching me, only to find her eyes trained intently on my face. When Spunk’s tail flicked, I glanced down again.
“All right, that should be enough for now,” Bethel said, meaning the food. “Your father knows where you are because this is where he met your mother.”
At that I choked on my coffee. Spunk’s tail continued to swish. Maybe now I would drop some cheese, or so he seemed to be thinking.
“He what!”
“What do you know about all of it?” my grandmother asked.
“Not much. He said it was a fling and that Mom didn’t want me, so he raised me. I had a feeling . . .”
I tried to keep going, but there was a tiny explosion in the form of my grandmother furiously shoving herself out of her chair. Grapes had given her the strength to pace like a miniature steam engine.
“He what! The nerve! How dare he! Your mother couldn’t raise you because she was in jail!!” Bethel cried.
“She was in jail for what?” I asked.
My grandmother waved her hand at me. “That isn’t important right now.”
“Right, sure,” I muttered.
I desperately wanted to know the story, but my grandmother looked so distressed that I decided not to push her at the moment. This would just go on the lengthening list of things I needed cleared up sooner or later.
“My dad never said anything about jail. He probably didn’t think he should tell his young daughter her mother was a criminal,” I told her.
“It’s more complicated than that,” my grandmother snapped.
“Look, you might as well relax and try to explain things to me. I have a feeling that if we keep going on like this, telling me about being a witch is going to take you all day,” I told her. I was trying to be kind, but my grandmother didn’t look soothed; instead she was busy muttering to herself about how evil men were.
While she was preoccupied, I nipped off the smallest bit of cheese I could as c
asually as I could and dropped my hand to one side of my chair. Now that it was below the table, it was easy for me to slip it to Spunk.
Just as he finished eating it, my grandmother came back to the table and slowly leveraged herself back into her chair.
“Very well. You deserve an explanation. I knew your dad was a no-good before. There’s no point being upset about it now,” she said. “So here’s what happened. Your mother was arrested and your father left with you. He didn’t tell her. She was going to be in jail for a long time. What he didn’t know at the time was that your mother was pregnant with your sister. It took us years to find him. Lo and behold, he was hiding in plain view. After we found out where he was, I bided my time. Your mother and I always thought we’d come and get you together and we’d bring Ethel along too.
“But life doesn’t always work out the way we hope it will. The plan was to get you when your mother got out of jail. Then, right before she was due to be released, she got in touch with your dad and they started negotiations about introducing you to her. The negotiations were ongoing when she was released, and . . .”
I was breathless with shock. “My dad stole me! While Mom was in jail!” I couldn’t believe it.
“He sure did. He was a great dad, so of course you were with him most of the time. I watched you when he had to work or something, but it wasn’t difficult. He just lied to your mother about it,” she said.
“And where’s my mom? You said my sister is now on the run, but what about Mom?” I looked around as if I expected her to walk in the door. Lowe’s family too was a mystery, but I had to find out about my own first.
Now my grandmother went quiet. This was clearly going to be bad news. She reached for a strawberry but pulled her hand back before it reached the bowl.
In all the stress of the moment, for some reason I noticed right then that her nails were painted red. Her hands were old and they had spots on them, but her skin was smooth. These were details I’d been too busy to take note of yesterday. I was looking at my grandmother’s hands in my grandmother’s kitchen, something I had never thought I’d get to do.
“Your mother was murdered when she was let out of prison three years ago,” Bethel said quietly. “We lost my girl.”
Pointy Hats and Witchy Cats Page 6