Last Dance

Woodbury, Minnesota

Last Dance
© 2005 by Linda Joy Singleton.

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First e-book edition © 2010

E-book ISBN: 9780738716848

Cover design and ring illustration by Lisa Novak

Editing by Rhiannon Ross

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This book is dedicated to the memory of four talented and wonderful friends whom I miss and will never forget:

Dona Vaughn (author of
Chasing the Comet
)

Linda Smith (author of
Mrs. Biddlebox
and
Moon Fell Down
)

Eileen Hehl (author of numerous YA and adult romance novels)

Karen Stickler Dean (author of the YA series,
Maggie Adams
)

My grandmother’s voice was hushed, the lines of her face accentuated by soft lamplight, as she began to talk. In the quiet of night, I could almost pretend the three of us—Nona, Dominic, and I—were sitting around a campfire telling ghost stories. Instead, we were inside Dominic’s loft apartment and Nona wasn’t telling us tales.

The truth was far scarier than fiction.

The antique silver box she’d given me lay heavy in my lap. It was cool to the touch, with tarnished edges and raised half-moon and star designs embossed into the lid. “Pandora’s Box,” I’d teased when Nona had first showed it to me.

And I was right.

The contents themselves weren’t dangerous. In fact, when I’d lifted the lid to look inside, I’d felt let down. I’m not sure what I expected—maybe jewels or rare coins. That would have been more exciting than a faded photograph, an old Bible, and a tiny silver charm in the shape of a cat.

“Before I explain about the box,” Nona said in a shaky voice. “You should know more about my great-great-grandmother.”

“Don’t tire yourself.” The concerned look Dominic gave my grandmother irritated me. He wasn’t even related to her—a handyman/apprentice who looked about my age, but didn’t attend school. All I knew was that Nona invited him to live at her farm because he possessed unusual talents. Secrets had drawn them close, and I couldn’t help but feel left out.

“I appreciate your concern,” Nona told Dominic with a fond smile. “But resting just wastes valuable time. The only thing that can cure me is the herbal potion my great-great-grandmother Agnes created for an aunt who suffered from the same hereditary illness I now have. It’s important you understand about Agnes. She had the family mark of a seer, like Sabine.”

I reached up to touch the black stripe in my blond hair. Before Nona’s hair turned silver, she’d had one, too. She told me it signified amazing psychic abilities. But when I was little, I’d been ashamed of it. Kids called me a freak and said I didn’t wash my hair. Once I’d taken scissors and cut out the dark streak. It grew back, but I never grew used to being different. Even now, after my gift had helped to save a friend’s life, I yearned to be normal.

My grandmother was talking again, and I leaned forward in my chair so I didn’t miss a word. “Agnes lived over a hundred years ago in a small town where people were expected to behave in a certain way,” she explained. “Women raised children and were good wives. They dressed, acted, and even thought alike.”

“My mother would fit in there,” I said bitterly.

“That’s probably true.” Nona cracked a wry smile. “But it was a terrible place for someone with a gift.”

“Like us.”

My grandmother nodded. “Agnes was widowed young and had to raise her four daughters on her own. She created herbal remedies for everything from upset stomachs to bad breath. She also gave advice—telling things that always came true. She could predict the future for others, but not herself. So when she spurned the advances of the married mayor, she had no idea his anger would result in malicious rumors. Suspicious townsfolk turned away from her, whispers of witchcraft spread.”

I frowned. “That’s so unfair.”

“When has life been fair to those born different?” Nona shook her head sadly, then continued. “When a neighbor woman became ill and died for no obvious reason, the mayor accused Agnes of poisoning her with a headache potion. That night Agnes’ eldest daughter, who also had the gift, warned her mother she was going to be arrested for murder. Her only choices were to stay and risk a death sentence, or run away.”

“What did she do?” I whispered, gnawing on a fingernail.

“She was brave, not stupid. A neighbor offered to care for her daughters while Agnes fled to distant cousins who had settled in the West. Her plan was to send for her daughters when it was safe. Unfortunately, that never happened.”

I held my breath, imagining this heartbreaking scene. Four little girls hugging their mother, tears falling as they said good-bye, not knowing it would be their last time together. Or maybe they did know, which would make it worse.

Glancing over at Dominic, I could tell he was moved by the story, too. Was he thinking of the mother he’d lost too soon?

Nona paused for a moment, a glazed look coming over her face. I knew that look now and what it meant. I held my breath, struggling to stay quiet while she found her way back into memories. Seconds later, Nona’s eyes sharpened and I let out my deep breath.

“As I was saying,” Nona went on with a determined lift of her chin, “Agnes went out West. No one knows where for sure. But a year passed with no word from her—until a package was delivered to her daughters. It came with the sad news that Agnes had died and she wanted her daughters to have the box.”

“This one?” I lifted the silver box.

“Exactly.” Nona nodded. “Inside were four charms and a note saying the charms would lead to the hidden location of her remedy book. But the girls never got a chance to search. The friend couldn’t care for them anymore and they were adopted into separate families. Before they split up, each girl took a charm as a keepsake.”

I picked up the silver cat that was no bigger than my thumbnail. “Your great-grandmother chose this one?”

“Yes,” Nona answered as she stared at the photo. “Florence was the eldest, so she kept the box for her most precious belongings: this charm, the family Bible, and the last photo taken of her sisters and mother. That’s Florence in the middle.”

She pointed to a serious-looking girl of about eight. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, and she had the same strong, straight nose as Nona. Her mother, Agnes, didn’t look any older than I was; yet she’d been a wife, mother, and widow. She sat in a stiff-backed chair with her four daughters circled around her.

“You can tell Agnes loved her daughters,” I said wistfully, thinking of my own mother who didn’t like me much. “Did the sisters ever get back together?”

“No,” Nona answered sadly. “Not in this world anyway.”

I set the photograph back in the box, and lifted up the silver cat. “What did the other three charms look like?”

“I don’t know. There’s no record of that.”

“Or of what happened to the sisters,” Dominic added grimly.

“So you don’t have any idea where the remedy book is?” I asked.

“No. And it’s my only hope.” My grandmother’s gaze was haunted as she reached out to grasp my hand. “That’s why I’m asking you and Dominic to find it for me.”