by Stevie Day
There was more, but it was all so fast and jumbled that Alice couldn’t keep up. She didn’t feel panic, though. She felt something else rumbling deep inside of her, a feeling she didn’t like and hadn’t felt for many years.
“Mr. Ploppers,” she called in a soft voice. “Can you… please just come sit with me for a minute? I really need a friend right now.”
But Mr. Ploppers merely sat in his spot, looking up at her with the same confused wide eyes as earlier.
Finally all the strength within her crumbled and Alice collapsed to the floor, crying. Not just crying, though. These were the deep cries of loss and despair.
She wanted her mom.
And then she was five years old again, looking into the coffin that held her dead mother. She hadn’t understood then, not really. Hadn’t understood that she’d never see her mother’s pretty face or hear her beautiful voice singing. She was always singing. But she never would again. It had taken a long time for Alice to really realize and understand that she was gone. Her mommy was gone, and she was never coming back, and there was nothing Alice or anyone could do, now or ever, to change that.
Here one minute, gone the next.
And Alice had gotten over it. Her father had been a good father, a loving and attentive parent who had raised her into a strong, capable, and kind young woman. So strong, in fact, that he didn’t think he even needed a phone because it was such a distraction, and if he ever needed to talk to his strong and capable daughter, they could just talk through magic because she was so darn magical. But she wasn’t anymore, the magic was gone, and so too was her connection to her father, her rock, her teacher, and her friend.
She was suddenly so angry at him for not anticipating this, for not having a phone “just in case.” It was unfair, and she knew it, but she was angry all the same.
She was lost. And so she just laid on the floor on which she had crumbled, crying and crying and crying.
Then there was a knock on the door that sent a jolt of terror down Alice’s spine. She had a nightmare vision of the evil Gretchen coming to finish the job of murdering her with words. Or maybe it was the ghost of Janet Lombardi, returning to haunt her some more. She didn’t have the strength; she would just ignore the knocking until it went away.
But it persisted. And behind it was a voice. A pretty voice calling her name, and for an instant Alice thought it was the voice of her mother, finally returned, here to hold her and tell her everything was all right.
“Mommy?” she cried, as she jumped up and yanked open the door.
But it wasn’t her mother. Of course it wasn’t. Instead, there stood a pretty redheaded woman with freckles to spare, and Alice felt no shame in her thought of: Not Mommy… but close enough.
The woman barely had a chance to open her mouth and speak before Alice threw her arms around her neck and started sobbing uncontrollably onto her shoulder.
“Oh, Alice,” Aunt Penny said. “What have you done?”
15
Alice didn’t remember how she and Aunt Penny ended up sitting on her couch. She’d given in to the tears, and they had come fast and hard. Aunt Penny, after her initial question, remained silent except for the soft, soothing shhs she quietly whispered as she held Alice and gently stroked her hair.
As she had so many times before.
Aunt Penny was the sister of Alice’s father. When Alice’s mother died, her father had been devastated. He had always been an active parent, but there was a big difference between that and suddenly being a single parent. Luckily, he wasn’t the prideful type. He wasn’t afraid to ask for help, and Aunt Penny had been more than willing to step up.
As the tears finally began to run their course and subside, Aunt Penny took Alice’s face in her hands.
“Alice. The most important question first: Are you okay?”
Alice sniffled and nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“Shh. None of that. As long as you’re okay, everything else is secondary.”
Alice nodded again and put her head back on Aunt Penny’s shoulder. “How did you know to come?”
“You never checked in with your dad. He tried to reach you and when he couldn’t, he reached out to me.”
“And you came over? Why didn’t you call?”
Aunt Penny turned to her. “Alice, I’ve been calling all day! I’ve left you about a dozen voicemails and texts. We were both worried sick.”
“Oh my gosh, really?” Alice reached in her back pocket for her phone and found it wasn’t there. “Jeez. I lost my phone and didn’t even realize it.”
“We’ll figure that out later. Right now, tell me what happened.”
Alice took a deep breath and looked lovingly into Aunt Penny’s jade eyes, which contrasted so beautifully with the red hair that framed her face. “My magic is gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“Gone. I can’t feel it. I can’t reach it. I can’t talk to Mr. Ploppers, I can’t start my car, I can’t cast the tiniest spell.”
Aunt Penny took a moment to let that sink in before asking, “How did this happen?”
“About a week ago, I was hired by a guy whose wife had just died. It seemed like natural causes. The police and medical examiner all agreed it was natural causes. But this guy was convinced she’d been murdered. So he hired me to find out who did it.”
Alice took a deep breath and continued, “I took the case, figuring that if it led me nowhere and I concluded that she had, in fact, died of natural causes, then that was okay. Maybe he’d take my word for it and be able to move on. I could help bring him closure and peace. And if there was a murder… Well, I believed I’d find that out too.”
Aunt Penny nodded patiently, waiting for the explanation.
“But the investigation wasn’t going anywhere. There were a couple of people I guess I could’ve investigated a little more thoroughly, but…”
She trailed off, but Aunt Penny, now with something like a stern look on her face, wasn’t about to let her off the hook.
“But?”
“I figured I could… You know, if I could just… ask the murdered lady—”
“Alice, you didn’t!” Aunt Penny rarely raised her voice with Alice. She did now.
Alice dropped her head in embarrassment.
“You used dark magic?” Aunt Penny asked, gripping Alice’s hand.
Alice nodded. Aunt Penny got to her feet and paced around the living room. “Oh my goodness, Alice. After all these years, and all these warnings your father and I have given you, and what did you do? You ignored it all! All for a shortcut in your investigation?”
“No!” Alice exclaimed, getting to her feet herself. “It’s not like that.”
“No? Then what is it like?”
“I thought—”
“You thought what?”
“I thought I could talk to Mom, okay?” Alice’s eyes focused on the carpet. “I thought you both were being overly dramatic about dark magic and that I could handle a spell like that. And that if I could do it, if I could successfully pull off the spell and talk to Janet Lombardi, then I could do it again and talk to Mom too.”
All the anger drained out of Aunt Penny’s face. “Oh, Alice. It’s been… what, twenty years? You haven’t accepted it yet?”
“Accepted it?” Alice asked, tears forming again. “How do you get over something like that? Do you think Dad is over it?”
“No,” Aunt Penny said. “No, I guess he isn’t.”
They were silent for another long moment. Alice felt exhausted and sat back down on the couch. Aunt Penny sat down next to her.
“Maybe neither of you will ever truly be over it, Alice. But your father has found a way to move on. He teaches now, and he’s good at it. He makes a difference in people’s lives.”
“I know,” Alice said. “I’m very proud of him.”
Aunt Penny laughed, and Alice was grateful for the sound. She had a great laugh.
“So am I! But my point is, he
’s moved on and you have to too. This idea of talking to her… Alice, it’s so dangerous.”
“I know,” Alice said. “I know that now.”
“So tell me about the spell. Tell me what you did and what happened after.”
Alice went on to recount the previous night’s events, leaving no detail out. What was the point? Aunt Penny was here to help, and she could only do that if she knew everything.
“So, how bad is it, doc?” Alice joked. “How bad did I mess up?”
“Well, you’re still in one piece, so that’s good,” Aunt Penny said. “You can probably expect the nightmares to continue for a while.”
“Oh, great.”
“But what’s really worrying is the loss of your magic. I can’t think of another case where that’s happened.”
“Do you think it’s psychosomatic? Like, all in my head, and all I have to do is concentrate real hard and believe in myself and ‘poof,’ magic back?”
Aunt Penny smiled knowingly. “I think it’s more complicated than that. A person’s ability to perform magic is based on two components: innate ability, which you have in spades, and practice. And practice means learning, reading, studying, preparing, and so on. Something you’re also very good at.”
“Thanks,” Alice said weakly. She could use all the compliments she could get right now.
“And you haven’t lost your innate ability. That’d be like a basketball player suddenly getting on the court and forgetting how to jump or do a lay off.”
“I think it’s called a ‘lay up.’”
“That’s what I said, lay up,” Aunt Penny continued without missing a beat. “And you haven’t somehow forgotten how to cast spells, have you?”
“No, nothing like that. I just don’t feel the connection to it like I always have.”
“Yeah. This is something else, I think. We’ll have to ask your dad, though I’m not sure he’ll have any more insight than me.”
“Aunt Penny?” Alice began. “How do you know so much about dark magic? I know you don’t like to talk about it, but…”
“No, it’s okay. Now’s as good a time as any to talk about it, right?” Aunt Penny paused to prepare herself. “When I was young—a teenager, really—I got heavily into dark magic. Got involved in a cult. Went down a really dark path. And I stayed on that path for many, many years. It wasn’t long before your mother died that I started to try to make things right. And when she did pass… Well, you and your father needed my help. And that was the final push I needed to clean myself up.”
“Is that why you never use magic anymore? Even good magic?”
“Yes,” Aunt Penny answered. “I sometimes think of it like being an alcoholic. Me casting a spell would be like an alcoholic having just oooone drink.”
“Did you know?” Alice asked. “When you came in, you said ‘What have you done?’ Did you, like, smell it on me?”
Alice expected that to get a laugh. Instead, Aunt Penny simply said, “Yes. But I had hoped I was wrong. Or that there was some other explanation. I couldn’t believe you would really…”
“I’m so sorry,” Alice said.
“Good. Because I’ve seen where that path can take you. I’ve lived it. And I don’t want that for you.”
“So what about my magic? Will it come back?”
“I can’t say for sure,” Aunt Penny said. “But I find it hard to believe that whatever is happening is permanent. It feels like something else is going on here.”
“So what do I do now?”
“Hmm.” Aunt Penny paused. “Maybe I should stay a couple of days? Keep an eye on you? It feels like a dangerous time.”
“Yes!” Alice said, a little too desperately. “I mean, if you can?”
“I can. I’ve got the next two days off from the hospital and I can take more off if I need to.”
Alice resisted the urge to jump into her aunt’s arms again. Instead, she just smiled and said thank you.
“But first I need to reach out to your father and let him know you’re okay.”
“That’s not dangerous for you?” Alice asked. “Isn’t it like having a drink, like you said?”
“Your dad will do most of the work. It’s more like… waving the drink in front of my nose and making me smell it? Not ideal, but I can handle it.”
“Thank you, Aunt Penny. Thank you so much.”
“No problem, kiddo.” Aunt Penny ruffled Alice’s hair. The “normal” Aunt Penny that Alice knew and had grown up with was silly and funny. It was nice to see a hint of that returning.
“Okay if I sit in the guest room?” Aunt Penny asked.
“Consider it your room,” Alice answered.
16
Alice woke up the next morning to a peculiar yet intoxicating aroma wafting from her kitchen. What was that? Could it be…? It’d been years since she smelled that wonderful smell coming from her own home.
She sat up and sniffed at the air like a cartoon dog. “Bacon!” she cried out and leapt to her feet.
She ran—not walked—the few steps it took to get to the kitchen where she found her slender aunt fully dressed in faded jeans and an old classic rock concert t-shirt, happily moving the sizzling meat around the frying pan.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she said to Alice. “I ran to the store while you were sleeping. Hope you don’t mind. I’m making bacon!”
“I know! It smells amazing.”
“Bacon is amazing. Egg sandwiches too?”
“That’d be great,” Alice said. “But I don’t think I have any cheese.”
“I got that too, silly.”
“Mmm.”
“Sit,” Aunt Penny said, waving the spatula in the direction of the kitchen table. “So, how’d you sleep?”
“Okay, I guess? It was hard for a while. Tossing and turning, mind racing. Then the nightmares came for a bit.”
“Uh oh. Bad ones?”
“I don’t really remember, which I guess is a good thing. I just remember they were really vivid. Sharp. Scary.”
“And you don’t usually have nightmares, right?” Aunt Penny asked.
“Right. Once in a blue moon. That’s it.”
“But you look better this morning. You must’ve gotten some good sleep.”
“Yeah. At one point I got up and… went to the bathroom. I think that was around 3 or 4. And after that I think I slept all the way through until now. So I’m grateful for that. That little chunk really seems to have done the trick.”
Alice lied a bit about the bathroom trip. What she’d really done was walk to Aunt Penny’s room to make sure she was really there. Alice had been worried she had dreamed Aunt Penny’s visit.
But Aunt Penny had been there, sleeping soundly. And somehow that’d been just enough reassurance for Alice to get some much needed sleep.
“I love your shirt,” Alice said. “You didn’t get that at the store, did you?”
“This old thing?” Aunt Penny asked with a wink. “Nah. I keep an overnight bag in the car. Sometimes the hours at the hospital are insane. Sometimes I can’t just leave, so it’s good to have a few things with me in case.”
Aunt Penny was an emergency room nurse. Alice got to see her work a little bit when she was a teenager considering pursuing her own career in nursing. And she’d never been more impressed. Here was this woman she’d grown up playing, laughing, and cuddling with, suddenly transformed into a dynamo of compassion and leadership, all while retaining her sense of humor in the face of sometimes catastrophic pain and injuries.
Alice ultimately chose a different path, but she never forgot those few times she saw her Aunt Penny do her thing.
“So what do you want to do today?” Aunt Penny asked. “Hike? Watch some movies?”
“Actually, I was hoping to go into the office this morning,” Alice admitted. “Would you mind giving me a ride? I need to get this investigation back on track. Especially now that I know there’s been an actual murder.”
“Ooh,” Aunt Penny s
aid, leaving the bacon for a moment to lean in close to Alice. “Can I help? I’ve never investigated a murder before.”
“Neither have I. And yes, of course you can help. I’m just not entirely sure what my next move is.”
“That’s okay. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out. But maybe you should find your phone first.”
“Good point. But how do I find it?”
“I dunno. You’ll figure it out.”
It hadn’t taken much searching to find the phone. It sat beneath the little table by the front door where she left her car keys. She couldn’t recall how it got there. But the whole previous day had been a chaotic mess of panic and worry, so Alice wasn’t too hard on herself for forgetting about it.
“By the way, your father’s on the way down the mountain. He’s going to buy a phone and figure out what he has to do to be able to use it if he needs to. I don’t think there are any cell towers up there, so I’m not really sure what he’s going to have to do.”
Alice winced. “Oh no! He doesn’t have to do that! Isn’t it all icy and dangerous?”
“There are paths. And he’s a pro. He’s done it many times before.”
“I hate that he has to go through all that trouble just for me.”
“You’re being silly again. Ask yourself: Would you do the same for him? Or for me?”
Alice nodded.
“Of course you would,” Aunt Penny continued. “And so would I, for either of you. We’re family. These are the things we do for each other. So there’s never anything to feel guilty about.”
“I’ll just be grateful then,” Alice said.
Aunt Penny smiled. “Gratitude is good. Right on.”
Alice was also grateful for the delicious breakfast that followed. Aunt Penny was a good cook. Not a sensational cook, but more than adequate. And when it came to comfort food, Alice thought Aunt Penny might just be the very best cook in the world.
17