The Witch of Belladonna Bay (23 page)

“What's so damn funny?”

“You.
You
are funny. You remind me of your daddy.” She came to me and put her arms around me. She felt like a harness, a safe one. Like when Dolores gets upset and I have to hold her tight.

“I have an idea,” she said. “Since you have to stay here, how about I give you my camera, and you can take pictures, however many you want, all day long.”

“Really?” I'd been wantin' to get my hands on that fancy camera. But I didn't steal it. Which should prove how much I loved her.

“Deal,” I said.

“I'm gonna figure this whole thing out, Byrd. Don't you worry, okay?”

And I told her “okay,” but I
was
worried. Because facts is facts and I still couldn't remember that night or find my knife.

She got up to go have some coffee. I could hear her talking quietly to Ben, but I couldn't hear what they were sayin'.

When I came out of the bedroom, they told me their plan.

“Byrd, Ben wants to come with me. I know I told you that you couldn't come, but I really need the support. It won't be easy seeing your daddy like that. So don't be mad, okay?”

Ben was dressed. He held his coffee gracefully in one hand. He looked like he'd walked right out of one of those
GQ
magazines my daddy reads. Classy.

I didn't answer. I just put the camera up to my eye and took their picture.

It's a funny thing that happens when you look out from behind a lens. It's like there's this wall between you and the rest of the world. I liked it. A lot.

I left them there, taking pictures all the way out of the house. I took about a hundred of Dolores. She was on the porch. Gettin' closer and closer to going inside. She's a good dog, but she likes to hide from things she doesn't know too well.

I wondered if that's how come Aunt Wyn stayed away so long. Because she was hiding.

I took picture after picture of my garden until Minerva came out with some ice-cold sweet tea.

“Have a drink, Byrd. You'll get dehydrated in this damn heat.”

I took the glass and walked over to Esther. She's the shadiest spot in the whole place. I sat up against her trunk and gazed up into her branches. Me and Jamie were right here not seven months ago, havin' a terribly interestin' conversation.

We'd just come back from his house where we'd been watching movies.

“I think it'd be neat to be Hannibal Lecter's little girl,” I said.
The Silence of the Lambs
is our very favorite movie.

And he said, “Why you wish that? You want him to eat you?”

“No. That's exactly the point. I think it would be a really nice feeling to be close to someone who ate people, only they didn't eat
you
. Like, you'd be special to them. The
specialest.
”

“I think I understand,” he'd said to me. “Like, you could be the one thing that was different in a person's life. The one thing that made them say, ‘Nah, I love this person too much to eat 'em.'”

“Something like that,” I said, and then tagged him so he'd have to chase me. I loved it when he chased me 'cause sometimes I'd let him catch me and then we'd fall down and almost kiss each other, only not really 'cause we're too young. But it's good practice. A girl should be prepared for her first kiss.

Sittin' under Esther all alone, I put my fingers on my lips. Who would be my first kiss now?

I just couldn't imagine it ever bein' anyone but my own little prince.

“I swear,” I said to Esther. “If they find him dead, I'll wear black for the whole rest of my life, and I'll never, ever love another boy again.”

Esther stayed quiet, but I could tell I wasn't alone anymore.

Charlotte Masters was back and I'll be damned if she wasn't swingin' on my swing.

She's the one who told me
where
to take the pictures. I didn't see anything then, but when a ghost tells you to do somethin', you do it. Period.

 

17

The Whalen Dolls

 

Truth be told, I was glad Ben was coming with me. The thought of seeing Paddy in prison orange was enough to make me sick.

I had to see Stick first. That was the easy part.

But then I'd go straight to Angola because I had to see Paddy.
Had
to see him. I'd been away from my brother too long. And hopefully I could hold him and try and figure out why he put himself in this predicament in the first place.

Then, Grant. Bringing Ben with me to see him would be another type of difficult. Colliding past, present, and future together is a dangerous endeavor even when nothing precious is at stake. I'd have to keep my head on straight or my brain would go all crazy fuckall and I wouldn't be able to help anyone.

Grant could cloud my mind with one glance from the very moment I started thinking of him as more than a friend. We were eleven, Byrd's age, when my heart first leaped for him.

Susan had given him a small boat. Nothing fancy, just a fishing boat that had been Kenny's and sat rusting in their backyard for years up on blocks. She told him when he fixed it, he could go wherever he wanted with it. She didn't know he'd have that baby up and running in a month. Paddy and I went down to the docks as soon as it was in the water.

“Shoot, Grant. She's a grand ol' girl,” said Paddy, only ten and itching for his own key to freedom.

“Take us out!” squealed Lottie, jumping up and down next to him, making the dock bounce.

“Nope, this maiden voyage belongs to BitsyWyn,” he said.

I could feel the disappointment trickle out of Paddy and Lottie as I got on that boat, Grant started the motor and we took off.

“Faster,” I said as the water splashed up around us and Grant walked here and there like a pirate looking for treasure.

I never wanted us to go back. I wanted to sail off into the unknown with that boy who had somehow become a man in all of five seconds.

“You and me,” he said. “When we get older, Wyn … you and me are gonna take the world by storm. If I can manage to find some treasure, will you marry me? Like, not now, when we get big.”

“Back in the old days, girls got married when they were thirteen. I'm only about a year away from that, you know,” I'd said, exaggerating just a little.

“Does that mean yes?” he asked.

I thought of saying something funny and maybe mean too because he was making my heart hurt with his attention. He was getting too close to me, and I'd already tried shutting off my heart to anything. Naomi's gift to my troubled tween years. Only I could never do that with Grant, because he was born inside my heart already.

“Grant Masters, of course I'll run off with you someday. And you don't need no treasure, either. Money kills people. Let's just be poor and live off the land. Now shut up and make this thing go
faster.
”

He did, and the faster he made that boat go, the faster my heart opened to the idea that it would be Grant who would save me. His magic was real. He could do anything.

Only he couldn't save my mother, and he couldn't save his.

I'd thought he failed me, somehow.

Someone should really try and bottle up teenage righteousness and sell it for a fortune.

*   *   *

Ben and I walked back up to the Big House to ask Minerva if my car was still around.

“Sure, but why not have Carter bring you where you need to go?” she responded.

“I—”

“Want to be in control,” she finished for me. And she was right. Partly. And I didn't trust Carter anymore.

“I'm driving,” I told Ben when Carter brought the car around.

I saw Ben's eyes get big. Bronwyn drove a Subaru. Not BitsyWyn. BitsyWyn Whalen drove
this.

Lord, I loved being back behind the wheel of my old Mustang. Cherry-red. I'd named her Cherry. (Sixteen-year-old Wyn might have been a spitfire, but she wasn't all that original.)

It only took a hot minute to pull up in front of the sheriff's office. Ben bounced forward in the passenger seat.

“Bronwyn, these cars don't have air bags. Be careful.”

“Shit, Ben. Live a little. Oh, and stay here.”

“Why did I come with you if you want me to stay in the car?”

“Moral support?”

“Fine.”

I walked into Stick's office.

“
You
never came to see me yesterday,”

“I got … caught up.”

“I figured as much. It wasn't important. Just wanted to tell you I liked your fella. Also wanted to tell you that I made arrangements for you to visit Paddy today. The Fourth would have been next to impossible. Does that work for you?”

“That's why I'm here, Stick. But, there's one more thing … now, don't get mad…”

“Oh, no. What did you do? I swear I am up to here with the shit goin' on around this town. Now I got people missin' garage doors! And lights and all sorts of crazy things.”

“Well, see … when I went to Lottie's house…”

“What. Did. You. Do?” asked Stick.

“Well, I … okay. There was a blinking light on the answering machine. And I sort of … played it. Don't be mad. Because I think I've figured a few things out,”

“Who was the message from? It must be new because we checked it.”

“Right. See? Yes. It was new. And it was from Grant. And he was going on and on about how sorry he was. Did you hear me?
Sorry.
I know he's in New Orleans, but I thought you might know his exact location. I'd like to pay him a visit.”

“He didn't do it, Bronwyn,” said Stick, his face dead serious.

“I don't want him to have done it, either. But he might
know
something. Where is he?”

Stick scratched his stomach, and then sighed.

“He's bartending on Bourbon at a place called the Frosty Tooth. But, trust me, if you're lookin' for him to see if he did it, he didn't. Now, if you want to, you know, catch up with him, go right ahead.”

“Why are you so sure he didn't do it, Stick?”

“Instinct.”

“Well, I got my own instinct, and I'll bet you your firstborn child that mine is better than yours.”

*   *   *

I took Route 10 to see Paddy. It was the quickest, and I wanted to stay focused. It felt good to drive. But I knew if I'd taken Route 90, I'd be looking at the Mississippi coast wishing every second I'd brought my camera and not used it to bribe Byrd. The casino boom had made every inch of that area a photo waiting to happen.

Once we arrived, Ben decided to stay in the car instead of the waiting room. It had air-conditioning and he'd brought a
New Yorker
to read. Arrangements were made for me to see Paddy alone, and he knew it.

Stick had arranged it so I could see Paddy in a room, not behind glass like a regular visit. I looked at him through the door before the guard opened it. He had his head resting on his arms. Just like when we were kids.

Time turned inside out as tears welled up in my eyes.

When he'd be naughty, Minerva would punish him and make him put his head on the table. She'd say, “Don't you move, Mr. Smarty-pants. You move and you'll see nothing but the inside of the pantry for the rest of the day.”

He always paid attention, but he'd roll his eyes and play with whatever was there on the table while her back was turned.

I called it “defiant submission.” He'd let her go on and on, and from the back it seemed like he was listening, but he wasn't. He was
waiting.
The thing about Patrick is that he's patient. More than anything, that boy has always been maddeningly
patient.

My cheeks damp with tears, I realized I'd seen my beautiful brother before he saw me.

He looked older, but not by much. I wondered for a second if he might have got some of Mama's magic, too. But he didn't. If he did, he wouldn't have been where he was.

Doors buzzed and slammed open and shut.

He saw me and stood up, fast, then slow when he got a stern look from the guard.

“Wyn,” he said, his voice cracking. “Wyn … oh, my God.”

It was a desperate cry, the sound he made when we were told our mother was dead and never coming back. It was me he cried for that day. Me he wouldn't let go of. And now in this moment, he sounded just the same.

You can feel it when your heart breaks. It's a stabbing, ripping kind of pain. And all the air you have comes out.

And my heart broke, but I went to him. I looked at the guard, but he nodded.

I put my arms around my brother and I tried to soothe him. Hushed him. Let him cry. Let him be a little boy again, if only for a minute or two.

We held on to each other long enough for the guard to feel we'd had enough and start banging on the windows.

Then we sat across from each other, clasping each other's hands on the wide particleboard table, just like in the movies. But he didn't waste time getting to the point.

“Look. I know we have a lot to say to each other. All the ‘sorries' and ‘should haves and could haves.' Let's agree to get those over with some other time, okay? We don't have a million years to catch up, Wyn. But I have to tell you somethin'. Just listen, okay? Don't talk. It's a hard thing, the thing I have to say.”

“Anything, Paddy, tell me anything,”

“Byrd did it, Wyn. God help me, it was Byrd. And you gotta stop diggin' and let it be. Carter came and told me, and you gotta let well enough alone.”

“No, Paddy. You're dead wrong and too close to it to see clear. She couldn't have done any of this.”

“Evil comes in all shapes and sizes, Wyn.”

“You know what's evil? She thinks she did it, too. Did you know that? She thinks it because she can tell
you
think it. So you better have a damn good reason for thinking it.”