The Witch of Belladonna Bay (27 page)

“Look,” said Carter. “I know I'm not your favorite person right now. I'm an ornery fool sometimes and my love for this family gets the better of me. But, Wyn, you're part of this family, too, so I got to get you out of this car. Come on, darlin'. Whatever crazy fuckall thoughts goin' around in that head of yours, they need to get straightened out. It was a hard day, I can see that. But now it's over. Your hard day is over, Wyn.”

Carter.
A strange, kind man.

I unlocked the door and he placed his arm out, like a true gentleman, to support me.

“You'll be just fine,” he said. “Listen to your heart and mind together, that's the trick. Not one or the other, both.”

I smiled at him, deciding right then that I
did
like him. Maybe.

Jackson got up to greet me, swaying a little too much.

“Let's go inside, Jackson. You've had one too many … again,” said Minerva, leading him in.

“Daddy wait, I have something important to tell you. I saw Paddy today and—”

He waved his hands at me. “Not now. Not now.”

“Oh, fine. Tomorrow then. Come on, Byrd. Let's get you to bed,” I said, picking her up. I needed to be close to her. It was like being close to Paddy.

Ben began to come down the stairs, too.

“Ben?”

He stopped.

“Do you think it'd be all right if you stayed here tonight? I feel like … God, if this isn't the rudest thing. I'm sorry, but I need to be alone with Byrd.”

“No, no. I understand. I get it,” said Ben.

“Come on, Ben,” said Carter. “I got a guest room all set up for you.”

“Of course you do,” he said.

*   *   *

That night, curled up next to Byrd, I had my second dream.

Only this time, it wasn't a memory. It was a warning.

We were standing on the beach late at night and the waves were wild. Lottie was dressed in a white gown and glowed brightly. And when I looked down, I saw I was dressed in a gown, too. Only mine was black, the converse of hers.

“Find him,” she said, staring out at the sea.

Then I heard a giggle. Jamie and Byrd were playing near us, chasing the waves and doing cartwheels. Their faces flushed with love.

“Look, Lottie! He's right there,” I said, trying to point. But my hand was heavy. I looked down and I was holding a large stick; it looked like a cane.

“No. He's not there. He's somewhere else. Find him.
He
is the answer. Find him and you can save them all. Find him and bring him back to me.”

When she turned her gaze my way, her face. Oh, Lord. Her face was on fire.

 

20

Byrd

 

What's the definition of torture? I'll tell you what it is. It's when someone you can't stand to be parted from leaves you to go figure out a mystery that you yourself have been tryin' to solve … and they leave you behind. Nothin' feels worse than bein' left behind. After I took a zillion pictures, I felt all lonesome again. My eyes began to burn and my heartbeat went all fast.
I am dyin',
I thought.

But then I noticed the wetness on my face. No, I told myself, you ain't
dyin'
you're
cryin'
. And it was a very, very, very hot feeling.

One time, me and Jamie were watchin' TV over at his house. We might have all the money in the world, but we ain't got no TV. Minerva and Naomi had somethin' against them. Do all Yankees hate TV?

Anyway, we were sitting on the floor in his bedroom watchin' this show about Incredible Things on the Discovery channel. I have to be honest with you, most of the shows on there ain't got nothin' to do with discovery. More about looking into people's minds and hearts and naughtiest thoughts. If everyone was magic like me, we wouldn't need no TV at all. I mean, all I have to do is walk through town to get entertainment.

So there was this show on and it was talkin' about when people just
burst into flames
. Like …
whoosh
! Burned up from the inside out.

“Can't be real,” said Jamie.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Just can't.”

“I think it would be fun to watch, though. Don't you?”

“Yeah!” he shouted, laughin'. Then, starting with his mama, we went through the whole damn town thinking of things that would make them burn right up from the inside out and makin' up fun stories about where they'd be when it happened. Like the produce aisle at the market. Or the bathroom. We laughed so hard I could barely breathe!

But when I was all mad at my aunt for not takin' me with her. I was so mad I thought I'd combust for real. And that wasn't funny. I was so mad I could
spit
. But instead, I took more pictures. Mostly of the gardens and the house, but also of the mist over Belladonna Bay.

I didn't much like bein' alone. Funny. Before she came, I didn't mind at all.

I swear! A child needs
guidance
. Sometimes I think they're all afraid of me. But not her, her eyes stayed soft from the moment I met her.

And when she finally came back that night, she carried me back to the cottage and read to me from
The Little Prince
. Then when she thought I was fast asleep, she said the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.

“I don't care if you did it, Byrd. I wouldn't love you less. I'd move heaven and earth to protect you, just like your daddy. And that's the God's honest truth. I'm never going to let anything happen to you.”

That's when I knew I'd never let her leave me.

Ever.

 

21

Bronwyn

 

I woke up the next morning with too much on my mind. I had to find Jackson, tell him about Grant. I had to find Ben and apologize for that terrible fight. Then I'd go see Stick and make him do his goddamn job. But it was Sunday, and I knew Stick would be at church for a good long while.

I gently untangled myself from Byrd's arms and legs and crept out of the room, shutting the door gently behind me. The dream was loosening its grip, but I knew I had to figure everything out soon or I'd lose my mind.

I started the coffee; hoping Ben would wander back from the Big House when he realized Minerva would only offer tea in tiny cups. Ben appreciated his morning coffee even more than I did.

But first I needed to see Jackson. He had to hear my plan about getting a new trial for Paddy first, before I went into town to tell Stick. I wanted him to know that I was doing as he'd asked. I wanted him to be proud of me.

The Big House was quiet, so I went in through the kitchen thinking I'd find Minerva.

Instead, I found a little girl standing on a chair stirring the best-smelling gumbo I'd ever smelled.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good mornin' right back, ma'am,” she said. “You lookin' for Minerva?”

“Yep, or Jackson. Either one.”

“Well, miss, today is Minerva's day to herself. She 'n Carter. And they be at church, as you should be too ifn' you don' mind my sayin'. And Jackson's gone to the farm. He thinks good thoughts there.”

“Thank you,” I said. “What's your name? Are you friends with Byrd?”

“My name's Mary, ma'am. And Byrd and I are real friendly-like.”

“May I taste your gumbo?” I asked.

“Oh, no, miss. T'ain' ready yet. I'll let you know when it is. There's figs, though. I like 'em wit salt. You ever eat 'em like that? You know, all the salt in these here parts got a little o' the bay in 'em.”

“How do you mean, Mary?”

“It's from the mines, don't you know,” she said. And then, “Ma'am? Be careful today. Today is full of bad juju.”

Jackson used to tell the story of how the Confederate army dug salt mines up and down the bay during the Civil War, so that when the tide came in and then out, they could scrape out the salt deposits left behind. It was a saving grace for the South, since there'd been so many embargoed goods.

“They still mine salt, Mary?” I asked, grabbing a fig.

She didn't answer me. I turned around and she was gone. The gumbo, too.

It can't be,
I thought, going to look for her.

Little girls are fast. But …
how does a pot disappear?
I thought maybe I was still asleep and having a very odd dream.

I went into the main hall as a lady in black walked down the stairs. “Well, I thought you'd never come!” she said.

“I'm sorry?” I asked.

“Aren't you the seamstress from New Orleans?”

“No, ma'am.”

She shook her head and sighed, walking back up the stairs.

“I don't know what to do without help. I need to fix up these dresses for my girls!”

I left the house fast then, through the kitchen and into the side garden, where a pretty, redheaded young woman paced back and forth in a tattered dress.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Yes … have you seen my … have you seen … I'm supposed to be with him. Please…”

“Who?” I asked. But she was walking away from me, wringing her hands. The sadness and worry all around her sat hard in my throat.

Bad juju indeed.

I was seeing spirits, like Byrd. I'd known it when I turned around and saw Mary's pot had left the building with Mary, but it took three of them to convince me. And it took the fourth one to help me understand that spirit seeing, though unnerving, can make visible the invisible line that hovers right above our instinct, showing us the moments we might otherwise have been unable to alter.

A beautiful woman, wearing a light pink dress, stood barefoot in the center of Naomi's garden. Her long, curly black hair framed her face and fell in layers over her shoulders. She was pointing at Esther, and though her mouth was open, she didn't make a sound. Instead, small, sparkling bits of light came pouring out each time she tried to speak. Like stars.

Stella.

“Are you Stella?” I asked, walking toward her. Her feet hovered an inch above the belladonna planted there.

She made a face at me then, looking so much like Byrd I knew I was right. Her face said,
“You already know who I am, and I'm pointing somewhere, and
you
are walking in the wrong direction.… What's the matter with you?”
Which, you could say, was exactly the same thing as being obtuse.

“Okay, I get it, you want me to go to Esther,” I said.

Lord, how I wanted to know her. To sit with her, laugh with her, tell her how wonderful Byrd was. But I'd lost that chance years ago. And Stella probably already knew her daughter was a magnificent little girl.

I went to the tree, placing my hands gently on her trunk. Then I felt a whisper of a breath from above. Stella was lounging on one of Esther's lower branches, looking pleased with herself and pointing down at the base of the tree.

“Dig?” I asked. I'd never been more mortal and clumsy. Even my thoughts felt as heavy as my limbs. Any fear I had of my own death disappeared in that moment, as I dug in the ground, a clumsy oaf of a woman, with Stella, her dress draping and her eyes filling up with stars, watching me.

I dug into the soft, mulched earth with my hands, but I didn't have to dig far. Half a foot down, I uncovered a round tin.

I pulled it out and looked up again, only Stella was gone.

I sat back and leaned against the tree, wiping the dirt off the container, and realized it was a candy tin. Lemon drops.

I opened it and found a letter sealed in a plastic bag. The note was from Stella, and it was addressed to me.

Dear BitsyWyn,

If you're reading this, you've taken the path I saw for you. The sight is fickle though, and our futures are always changeable. I hope—at the same time as I don't—that you've found your way home. You see, the path you're walking is one that holds great danger for my daughter, Byrd. I don't know that you can save her, but at least I can give you a head start. Now, if you hadn't come home at all, she either wouldn't be in dire straits or she wouldn't have the chance to be saved. I don't like those odds, so I'll hope that I was right.

She's always been my light, that girl. I came here, to this glowing, safe world of Magnolia Creek, to find my past and my future. I come from a darker place, Wyn. One so dark that it kept my family captive for too many generations of Amore women. When I finally figured out that I had a choice: Leave my own home and allow the next child to grow up free of our dangerous history, or stay where we've always lived and have her grow up in the shadows like I did. I chose to leave. One path, the darker one, would have allowed me to raise my baby. The other allowed me to see her thrive, even if it meant my life.

We can change anything if we are brave enough to make hard decisions.

The Amore family and the Greens have been intertwined for hundreds of years. The Masters, too, though they were originally La'Maestras. You know that already because of Susan. I wish I'd known her.

I wish I'd known you.

I used my lineage to track down other branches of my family, so Byrd would be raised in a place that didn't question her shine. I knew she'd be born, no matter what, but loving Paddy so fierce was a bonus. Jackson, Minerva, and Carter, too. I loved everything about it here, Wyn. And when I saw how you would come back and love my girl as much as any mother could love her child, I knew I'd made the right decision. Thank you, sister.

Here is where your path diverges. You will have the choice to act or not. And if you can't find the strength to alter the course, I can't promise that any of you will be safe.

Byrd is in serious danger, Wyn. Her body, mind, and very soul will be tested. And soon. You have to help her. Please.