The Witch of Belladonna Bay (33 page)

There was Jamie behind the trees in the pictures I took driving up to the Big House. And there he was, watching the parade from a second-story window above the drugstore.

And there he was in so many of the pictures she'd taken that day. Standing just inside the mist of Belladonna Bay. He'd been there; he'd been watching us.

“Byrd … I want you to look at these pictures. Do you see anything here?”

That's when she got off my lap, stood up with her hand over her ears, and started screaming.

Jackson, Minerva, and Carter came rushing in. Not Ben. He stayed just outside the threshold with Dolores.

“All of you get the hell out of here! Now!” I said.

I have to give them credit. They did. They left.

When she finally ran out of noise, she whispered, “He was there. I found him.”

I hugged her tight and gave her a million kisses. “Byrd! Listen to that voice! I'm so relieved. Did he hurt you?”

“No. But I'll tell you one thing,” she said.

“What's that, honey?”

“Jamie certainly ain't no Jesus. I was wrong about that.”

“Did he kill his mama?” I asked softly, so softly I could barely hear myself.

She nodded, the tears streaming down her small face.

“Anything else happen over there?” I asked. But those tears only came down faster.

I held my Byrd for a long time. Because whatever had gone on over there had broken her. Then I set her back on my bed and made some tea with honey for her cracked voice. As I waited for the kettle to boil, I thought out loud.

“It was all so simple. It was Jamie. The body they never found. Why didn't anyone suspect him?” Too close, I supposed. The forest for the trees, like Grant said. I made the tea and brought it back to her.

She was still crying.

“Okay, magic girl or not, you need to sleep. But, baby, now that we know you saw Jamie and that he told you he … you know, we need to call Stick … he's not much, but he can probably solve a case that's already been solved. I should tell Grant we found him, Byrd. And we need to tell Jackson, so he can call the lawyers. You'll be asked a lot of questions.”

“Can we wait until tomorrow?” she asked. “There's gonna be a lot of sad mixed up in this. I'm too tired to feel anymore today.”

“Sure we can,” I said, not sure we could but not willing to upset her anymore. I sang her to sleep. “You fill up my senses…” Then I made a cup of tea for myself and went back out onto my porch to look over at Belladonna Bay. What was that boy doing over there? He could run away and we'd never be able to prove what he did. Was I crazy to listen to her? Every bone in my body screamed
no
. There was something happening that needed to happen.

I did it, Lottie. I found out for you … though I don't know if that information is the stuff to help you cross over … but for better or worse, your son killed you. I don't know why or how … yet. But I kept my promise. And I love you.

The lights in the sky were brighter that night.

When I finally went to sleep, curled up next to Byrd, I had my final dream about Charlotte Masters.

We were little again. Sitting on her front porch. Byrd's age. And Grant was inside playing his music way too loud.

“He's dreamy,” I said.

“He's my brother, don't be weird,” she said.

“I think you think he's dreamy, too.”

She was quiet.

“He's my fate. Good or bad. It's in my bones.”

“I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about, Lottie,” I said.

And then everything shifted and we were back on that lonesome beach. There was a bonfire, and Jamie and Byrd were no longer there.

“Let me tell you about Jamie.”

The fire crackled as I listened.

“Jamie, my love … a strange boy. The good almost won out in him.”

“How can you say that?” I asked her. “He killed you.”

“He would have done worse … thank you, Wyn. Thank you for coming back. I think I can leave now.” She walked away, but just before she left I saw her look to the side, smile a big “good news” Lottie smile, and then run toward whatever she'd seen. Fast. Then she was gone, and I was alone.

He would have done worse.
Those words echoed in my head as I woke and night faded into day.

 

28

Wyn and Her Mama

 

It's funny the way things that are all tied up can get all undone in one moment. I remember once when I was little, Jackson was tryin' to prove a point to Minerva that he actually knew how to use the vacuum cleaner. The cord was in this incredible knot. It seemed impossible to get undone. Both of them were yelling at each other and taking turns trying to get the cord straight.

“What in God's name did you do to it, Jackson?”

“Really? You think I did something to it? What about you? You're the only one who uses it. Those other cleaning folk bring their own. So you musta just cursed it. Woman, I swear! Fix this thing!”

“You think I'd waste a good curse on a goodfornothingsonofabitch?”

And so it went.

But then, just like now, Jackson shook the knot out of frustration and the thing just … unraveled. Easy as pie. Almost like it was telling us we should have all left it alone in the first place and it would've worked itself out.

*   *   *

That next morning I called Stick and told him I'd meet him at the Big House because I had news.

Byrd and I shared a quiet breakfast of biscuits and mayhaw jelly that Minerva'd left on the front porch. Dolores was with us, finally not afraid to come inside. She was at my feet, her head resting against my ankles.

I looked at Byrd from across the small kitchen island. She was quiet. A little solemn.

“I'm sorry for whatever happened over there with Jamie, honey. But you're strong. You'll be able to work this whole thing into the quilt of your life. It might be a dark square, but it only adds to the amazing woman you'll grow up to be. Big boobies, too. I can see it now.”

She put down her biscuit and came around the corner to put her arms around my waist and bury her head into me. “Thank you,” she said.

That child. Dear God. I'd known it for days, but I felt it strongest right then. You'd lie for her. Steal for her. Kill for her. You'd die for her. All the love she evoked in everyone around her mucked everything up. Like developing film in a lit room. Overexposed. You can't see a thing.

“You know somethin'?” I asked.

“What?” she said, still holding me tight, her eyes closed.

“I was thinking that maybe you and me could both add things to Naomi's book. Would that be all right with you? How about we work on something together, like … say … something to convince Esther to bloom again?”

“I love you” was all she said.

I felt a pain, deep in my heart that was like joy, only bigger.
This is how it feels to be a mama,
I thought. It hurts; it's full of worry. No wonder …

That's when I heard my own sorrow.

Mama? I want you. I need you. Where are you? I forgive you. Will you forgive me?

*   *   *

After breakfast I gathered everyone, including Stick, at the Big House on the wide side porch, the one facing Belladonna Bay. Byrd and I stood in front of them and we told them what happened. How Byrd had seen Jamie. How he'd confessed to Byrd, and we had all the photos, too.

“So you're sayin' Jamie did it?” asked Stick. “But there was so much of his blood…”

“He tried to cut himself across his throat. Only it didn't work. It healed up somehow. He even showed me the scar,” said Byrd.

Carter cleared his throat, coughing a little.

“Well, we'll have to get a search party … bring him in. You know. All that.”

“You won't find him,” said Byrd.

“How can you be sure of that, sweetheart?” I asked her.

She shrugged her shoulders and looked out over the creek. She still wasn't back to normal, and that scream of hers was still ringing in my ears.

“None of this will hold up in court, you know,” said Stick.

“What would you need?” asked Carter.

He was just standing there, leaning on a banister, his arms folded in front of his chest, wearing a strange look on his face. Guilt. Relief. Love. All mixed together.

Stick was just about to answer when Byrd's voice rang out loud and clear. A little thin, too. Like she was worried, or curious, even.

“Ben?” asked Byrd.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Look over there, you see it? The light turned rosy pink, and it's the daytime, too. Is that what you were looking for?”

Ben nodded at her, turned to me, and placed a hand on each of my shoulders.

“It's time. Go there, Bronwyn. You've got to go see her, or else you won't ever be truly home. I've been waiting for the sign, and now it's here.”

“See who?” I asked

“Obtuse,” said Byrd, shaking her head at me. “Go see your mama. She's waitin' on you.”

Mermaids don't drown, mermaids don't drown, mermaids don't drown,
I said as I walked into the mist.

*   *   *

It didn't feel thick like it did when I saw Charlotte. It felt like regular old mist, leaving tiny droplets of water on my arms and face. It was like walking through a cloud. Tight on the skin. Almost like salt water when it dries. Sticky but natural.

I hadn't seen the other side of the mist on my last visit, and I thought it would end in a lingering sort of way. But it didn't. As soon as I crossed the creek, it was just—gone. And the sun was shining on the island of Belladonna Bay. The island I'd grown up next to but never seen. The island that haunted my childhood dreams. It was lovely. There was a wide riverbed, with grasses and submerged tree limbs. And smaller shrubs, all flowering out of season with bright red azaleas and deep purple beautyberries.

A small inlet of water, surrounded by waist-high wild belladonna, was off to the side.

A wonderland.

I had an urge to explore. To try and find our elusive Jamie, to climb a tall tree or two. To linger for a little, living and breathing in this place trapped in time.

I didn't get the chance. Because the ghost of my mama, Naomi Green Whalen, appeared not ten feet away from me. God, she made a beautiful phantom. It made a perfect kind of sense.

“Mama?” I called to her.

“I'm lost, I think.” She began to make her way toward me, gliding across the tall grass.

“I'm looking for something, someone,” she said, coming to a stop in front of me, and looking from side to side. The smell of roses clung to the air around her.

“Who, Mama? Who are you looking for?” I reached out to touch her face. It didn't feel like skin. It was the warmth the skin leaves behind.

She leaned into my hand and reached out her own. I felt the shimmer around her begin to enfold me.

It was as if she finally saw me.

“Bronwyn, look at you, my gorgeous girl.”

“Mama, please … I'm so sorry,” I said, the tears streaming freely.

“Don't cry, Wyn. Don't cry, my love.”

“Mama. I'm sorry I said those awful things to you. I remember it now. I never wanted you to die.”

“I know, I know … it wasn't you or your brother. Or Jackson. God, how I loved all of you. It was me. I pushed you away. Do you understand? I'm the one to blame. The best mothers let their love echo all around their children. They pour it down, with no expectation of return. They're so brave, those mothers. I couldn't do that. So everything that burdens you, belongs to me. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I love you” was all I could say.

“I know,” she said, then looked around again.

“Who are you looking for, Mama?”

“You, I think, only
not
you … you and your brother.” She looked around, past me and through me.

“I'm right here, Mama.”

“No, not
now.
Then. When things were better, you know? I need to find my way back. I think I'm supposed to be doing something. I can't go. Not until I know.” Naomi ran her hands through her glimmering hair. Sparkles shimmered down around her.

“What do you need to know, Mama?”

“I need to know that you knew. I need to know … until, you do, I can't…”

I'll admit that right then and there I was at a loss.

Consider it for a moment. You've crossed into the badlands of your childhood, and you are standing in front of the ghost of your mother, and she doesn't seem to be making sense.

And just before I was about to run from the pain that her sweet wide-open face.—
thirty-eight freckles, no, thirty-two
—was inflicting on my soul, I saw them. Two little towheaded children that looked like the most beautiful china dolls you'd ever seen. Whalen dolls.
I'll be damned
,
it's me and Paddy. How?

“Are you looking for them, Mama?” I asked, pointing to where they'd emerged.

Naomi turned, leaving a trail of energy in the air behind her.

Then she turned back to me. The worry and confusion was gone. She wore that real smile, the one from her portrait.

“Those are my babies,” she said.

“How can that be?” I asked, sinking to my knees as the air left my body. There was no room for anything but ache.

“Time, you know. The past, present, and future, it all runs side by side. See, those are my babies.
Those
are my
babies,
they need me.”

“They do,” I whispered. My throat was tightening and felt hot. Soon no words would come. I understood why Byrd had come back mute.

The children, holding hands, stepped tentatively out from the shadows of the dripping Spanish moss and on to the riverbank.