Autumn Calling (20 page)

“I know, right?” Autumn agreed. “But what
can we do about it? Nothing.”

Summer didn’t know what to say. She felt the
same, but realistically, this ball had been rolling down hill for
so long it was unlikely to stop now.

“You don’t suppose there is something we
could do to stop the fight, do you?”

Autumn thought on that statement for a long
while before offering, “I just don’t see how.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

They both sat, turned toward the dark sooty
hearth, where many a fire had been built, but now held no warmth or
comfort in its stone box. If thoughts and ideas could be seen, the
small must room would have been filled with a million of
them—bumping into one another, meandering through, converging with
others and then disappearing to afford room for another. The
silence was stifling, but necessary for both women to ponder their
situation.

Summer broke the silence with, “What if we
had a advocate.”

“A what?”

“A follower in our cause.”

“A follower, you mean someone who felt as we
do in the family? Not a chance.”

“It wouldn’t have to be someone who
completely agreed, but someone who wished for peace, just had a
glimmer of hope, you know.”

“I think I understand what you’re saying,
but there’d have to be one on both sides. Yes. Someone who could
promote peace, subtly to the others in the family. One for the
Midnights and one for the Macabres.”

“You mean besides us, right?”

“Yes. This person would have to have more
history with the family and know the inner workings of it and how
to manipulate the other members without their knowing. Like
chipping away at a great piece of art without letting them know
what the final statue would look like.”

“Do you know someone on the Midnight side
who might be willing to help?”

“I think I might. What about you? Is there
anyone on the Macabre side who might want to see peace between the
families?”

Autumn sat not saying anything for a while
as if she was unsure if she should. Was there someone she had in
mind? Or was it just a blank canvas of darkness on the side of the
Macabres.

“There might be someone,” she finally
relented.

“Really? That’s awesome,” Summer said, but
Autumn didn’t look so very convinced.

“What I propose we do is test our theory. In
a safe place alone from the other family members who might intrude
and disassemble our attempt, we probe the family member to see if
they are even open to the thought.”

“How would we do that?”

“By planting a seed of hope.”

“A seed. This is starting to feel like a
really dumb idea,” Autumn said.

“Wait. Give it a chance. The idea is to
plant a thought of ‘what if’ in their minds. What if…we didn’t have
to fight. What if…we could work things out. What if…we could be a
family one day. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even next year, but
eventually put all this hate and death behind us for good.”

“But even if we could get this seed planted
in our advocate, as you call it, the others would never go along
with it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But even just one family
member on either side is more hope for peace than we had
yesterday.”

“I see what you’re saying.”

“Look, I realize this may not stop the
fighting completely, but maybe it would be enough to get the others
thinking. It’s certainly not the easy road by any means. What do
you think? Is it worth a try?”

“It’s worth a try, I mean, what’s the worst
that could happen? They say, no way and we are in no better or
worse position than we are now.”

“Precisely.”

“So shall we give it a whirl and meet back
in, say, a week and compare notes?”

“Okay. I can commit to that.”

“Cool. Is there anything else you wanted to
talk about?”

“Well, yes. I was wondering if you could
tell me more about Mother.”

“Our mother?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I could, but I imagine you could get
more details from Father.”

She seemed disappointed by that statement.
“I did confront him with the fact that Juliette was not my mother.
Things have been….weird ever since.”

“What do you mean?”

“Basically, Juliette is not speaking to Dad
now and she’s giving me the evil eye all the time. Dad refuses to
talk about it. The only thing he made very clear was that they did
not share a bedroom—ever. Her bedroom was connected to his by a
door giving the illusion of going to bed every night in the same
bedroom, but she simply entered her room through his.”

“Maybe if you could get him out of the house
and away from the family you might be able to get him to open up
about her, especially now that the facade has crumbled.”

“I suppose that’s possible.”

“Of course, it is.”

“You’re not going to be the annoyingly
optimistic sister are you?”

“Could be,” Summer said devilishly.

They both had a little laugh. Soon after,
they said their good-byes and agreed to meet at the cabin in a
week’s time to see how things had gone. Summer left feeling hopeful
and she thought Autumn might have had a bit more confidence in the
task at hand too. All in all, it was a good talk and the best thing
was they weren’t trapped in a cave this time.

* * *

The following day was Tori’s grand opening
of
The Gypsy Wagon – Apothecary and Herbs
and it was a
glorious day indeed. The sun shone brightly and the sky never
seemed more blue. From the monitor atop Dr. Stuart’s desk, Summer
could see just about everyone in town came for a looksee. Having
worked at the clinic as long as Tori had, she’d met just about
everyone, at least who had a pet. It made Summer’s heart jump for
joy at seeing the great turn out.

She had samples of exotic and favored teas
laid out for customers to consume with large thermos type
contraptions housing gallons of hot water. Shelves of the shop were
lined with all kinds of dried, crushed, and ground herbs labelled
artfully in bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Herbs hung in
bunches from the bare beams of the shop tied with colorful ribbons.
Bulk herbs stood in large stout glass jars on an old shabby chic
looking table in the middle of shop.

People stood outside, waiting for their turn
to enter the tiny shop and get a peek at the wares. Many pointed
and whispered as they passed by the bookshelves that contained
books on the metaphysical, crystals of all sorts, and stacks of
tarot cards, crystal balls, and do-it-yourself kits on just about
anything related to gypsy magic.

The best part was when Dr. Stuart made his
way up to a beaming Tori, and leaned over and whispered something
in her ear. Next thing she knew Tori looked right into the camera
and winked at Summer. Though Tori couldn’t see her, Summer waved
back. Summer even made herself a cup of tea to enjoy along with all
the shoppers in the store.

It was a good day. She rode her bike home, a
smile on her face and the warm sun on her back. The wind kept her a
perfectly comfortable temperature.

Aunt Myrtle was one of the guests at Tori’s
shop opening, so Summer got a verbal account of things going on
that she couldn’t see from the camera point of view. She was
tickled by Dr. Stuart’s generosity and intended on telling him so
with a note via snail mail. Myrtle’s comment was “It’s much more
civilized and proper to get a
thank you
in the mail than by
some phone spitting out two letters to express the sentiment.”

Summer had to agree she was right. She’d
find it lovely to get a card expressing thanks compared to just a
‘ty’ in a text, but that was the way of the world these days. No
one seemed to have time or the inclination to do things formally as
they did in Myrtle’s generation. Either way, she knew Dr. Stuart
would be thrilled to get a card or letter voicing her thanks in
helping out.

Today they went over more potion
lessons—Summer’s favorite. She and Aunt Myrtle had really come a
long way since last spring when Myrtle only had a sour face for
her. In some ways, she had been very much like Morti was treating
her now. Maybe it was a family trait. If that was the case, she
could only hope she and Morti would make the transition, and soon,
as far as Summer was concerned.

“Aunt Myrtle, I was hoping you and I would
have some time to talk—alone.”

“Oh? What about, dear?” she said chopping
away at fresh ginger root Summer just dug up in the garden.

“The Macabres,” Summer said tentatively
hoping not to send her into one of her episodes.

Aunt Myrtle swallowed hard, but maintained
her composure and continued, “Yes?”

“Are you all right with that?”

“So far so good,” she chuckled. “Course,
only their name has been mentioned.”

“I know. I just was wondering if there was a
time, when you or Ivy ever thought…”

“Thought what, dear?”

“That there was another way.”

“Another way? I’m not following.”

“Was there ever an attempt to try and make
amends?”

Myrtle laughed as if relieved by the
subject. “Oh, dear. You had me going there for a moment,” she
continued to laugh a minute longer. “Yes, my dear. Of course. Once
things cooled down after Marcus proposed to Violet there were
stirrings of reconciliation. Ivy wanted to clean the slate so she’d
be welcome to visit her daughter and any children they might have.
She and Henry made a great effort to rally the Midnights into
accepting Marcus into the family. Ivy even became quite fond of
Marcus, though Henry still had his doubts. After all it was his
little girl walking into the lions den and no man is good enough
for their little girls.”

“What happened to make it all fall
apart?”

“Morti found an almost empty bottle of
potion in Marcus’s coat pocket. It was deduced that it was a
concoction to control the mind and heart of another. One thing led
to another and Marcus was accused to bending Violet to his
wishes.”

“What did Marcus have to say about it?”

“He denied it. Said he’d never seen the
bottle before.”

“I take it they didn’t believe him.”

“Actually Ivy wasn’t convinced. She and
Henry had many words about the topic.”

“And Violet?”

“She stood by her man. Henry argued if she
had been under the influence of a spell or potion that’s exactly
how she’d react. It wasn’t until a letter was found that fell out
of Marcus’s journal that Ivy lost her conviction in Marcus’s
claims.”

“Why what did the letter say?”

“It was a letter from Marcus’s mother,
Alexandrea. It referred to a previous letter where he spoke of his
joy in finally obtaining a way to apprehend the magic of the
Midnights in marrying and conceiving a child—connecting the Macabre
magic to the Midnights enabling them to syphon it off the offspring
and spouse.”

“That’s awful.”

“Isn’t it.”

“How did Marcus respond to the letter?”

“He seemed truly shocked and tormented by
the allegations. He said the letter was a fake. That it wasn’t even
his mother’s handwriting.”

“Couldn’t they just ask the mother?”

“No, she had traveled back home to France
and fell ill while there, which extended her stay.”

“So they couldn’t verify that Marcus was
telling the truth?”

“No, but they couldn’t prove he was lying,
either. I wanted to believe him, but the bottle and the letter made
him look like very suspicious.”

“But they could have just called their
mother in France, right?”

“I don’t know, I suppose. They probably
did.”

“And Violet? What did she have to say. She
married him despite it and went off on their blissful honeymoon.
What turned her against him in the end?”

“When they got back from the honeymoon and
announced her pregnancy, the Midnights were in an uproar, as they
should, for the Macabres were getting exactly what they wanted—our
bloodline. Marcus and Violet were fighting all the time from all
the family stress on them. He got very drunk one night and Violet
found him in bed with Juliette.”

“Ew…”

“Indeed.”

“What did Marcus have to say for
himself.”

“He denied it was him. He claimed to have
spent the night in the stables to sleep of the alcohol
consumption.”

“I imagine that was the final straw for
Violet, especially in her condition.”

“No, actually, Henry’s death was the final
straw. Marcus’s twin brother Rene was suspected to have poisoned or
placed a curse upon Henry.”

“But Marcus didn’t have a hand in that, did
he?”

“No, but at that point, it was too late for
Violet and Marcus. Violet couldn’t see past all he had been accused
of. The death of her father was more than she could bare and it
threw her into an early labor.”

“What an awful story.”

“And very, very sad.”

Summer let the story stew in her head for a
while as she watched the cauldron boil. Herbs bobbed around on top
amidst the bubbles then dropped out of sight to begin its rotation
once again to the bottom and up.

“Since all this time has gone by, do you
think maybe things could be talked out?”

“I don’t see how. So much hate, distrust,
and death have surrounded our two families. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve thought,
wouldn’t it be nice to have a sister and a father? Get to know them
and maybe even be a family of sorts.”

“Oh my, sweet girl. I know that must seem
like a lovely fairy tale to you, but Marcus is not that father you
picture in that fantasy.”

“Maybe not, but my sister might be.”

“I suppose, but having grown up in such
dysfunction, I can’t imagine that would be a good thing to expose
yourself too.”

“Look. What if Marcus truly loved Violet.
What if he was sorry for his past misdeeds. Doesn’t everyone
deserve a second chance?”