WILLEM (The Witches of Wimberley Book 1) (30 page)

“Think four hundred is fair.”

“You providing a five course gourmet dinner with that?”

The guy’s smile fell. “Time’s worth something, missy.”

I didn’t like hearing my mother called ‘missy’. It sounded all kinds of wrong. I started to step forward, but she put a hand on my arm. “Two hundred and a fifty dollar tip if the driver is nice and I don’t get sprayed on the way over.”

“Three hundred.”

“One seventy five.”

The old guy narrowed his eyes. “Two hundred, a fifty dollar tip for Stevie, and a fifty dollar tip for me.”

When Mom looked at me, I nodded.

“Done,” she said.

Crusty guy held out his hand until I put two hundred dollar bills on his palm. Then he picked up the phone. After a few seconds he said, “Got a job for ya.” He hung up, apparently without waiting for an answer.

A few minutes later we heard steps on the decking outside the office. A kid entered and nodded at us. He was fairly ordinary looking. About twenty years old, with lanky hair that hung around his ears.

“This is Stevie,” old guy said. “He’ll take ya.”

To Stevie, he said, “Take ‘em over to the island and wait for the roundtrip. Grab a sandwich, some water, magazine, whatever.”

Stevie opened the small refrigerator and withdrew a couple of bottled waters and one of those packaged sandwiches that you get in convenience stores, the ones with bread so soggy it’s falling apart because of the lettuce and tomato. Ugh.

“This way,” he said.

We followed him for a short walk down the pier. He stopped at a small motorboat. Frankly, for three hundred dollars I had thought we might have bought something bigger, but I wasn’t in a position to argue.

While Stevie untied, I stepped into the boat and then helped Mom.

“Mom,” I said under my breath. “Have you been to this place before?”

“Oh, sure,” she said. “Lots of times.”

Well, that was a surprise.

As we neared the island, Mom directed Stevie to a private dock with easy access pier and steps.

“We’ll be back in about two hours,” she told Stevie. He nodded and went about tying off.

I followed her up a crushed granite path lined with overarching trees that ended in a magnificent semitropical garden. The house beyond was a one story yellow clapboard with white shutters and porches all around. The word that came to mind was inviting.

It had just begun to drizzle when we reached the front door. I hoped Stevie had a pancho.

My mother walked right in without knocking.

“Mistral!” she yelled. “We’re here!”

I heard a voice from somewhere deeper in the house. When the woman emerged I saw that she was about the same age as my mother and shared Mom’s penchant for bright-colored clothing. Her hair was highlighted with streaks of light blonde that complimented her tan and sky blue eyes. She was really attractive for a hermit.

“Katrina,” she grinned at Mom. “It’s nice to see you.” After giving Mom a hug, her eyes wandered to me. “Who’s this?”

“My baby, Willem.”

“Willem,” she rolled it on her tongue. “I like it.” She looked me over. “Have a problem, do we?”

She cocked her head like she was evaluating. I didn’t want to say something smart ass like, “Duh. That’s why we’re here.” So I remained quiet and let her answer her rhetorical question herself.

“Let’s get some refreshments and sit on the back porch. I love to be out on the porch when it’s raining.”

“That sounds perfect, Mistral,” said Mom.

We followed her through the house and found that she had already set a table with petit fours, little sandwich squares, and what appeared to be an iced pitcher of Arnold Palmers, complete with the same mint my mother used.

“This is beautiful, isn’t it, Willem? Thank you for going to so much trouble for us.”

“No trouble at all, Katrina. It’s always lovely to have you.”

After she poured drinks and encouraged us to help ourselves to the tea goodies, she turned to me and said, “Willem, do you mind if I touch you?”

“Actually I prefer Will. And it depends on where.”

She laughed. “Very well, Will. I have no interest in becoming overly personal with you. After all, you’re the child of a friend.”

I glanced at my mother. She hadn’t used the word ‘friend’, although it was clear they enjoyed a familiar relationship.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Oddly, she got up and put her hand on my forehead exactly as my mother had done.

“Hmmm,” she said as she returned to her seat. “You’ve been enchanted.”

My mouth fell open. “What does that mean?”

“Enchanted?” She raised both eyebrows like she thought I might be dense. “Bespelled. Bewitched. Ensorceled. Enthralled. Hexed. Fucked with. Understand?”

I frowned. “I understand that last one.”

“Where has he been?” she asked my mother.

Mom rolled her eyes and said, “Wimberley.”

Mistral looked back at me. “Of course. How long were you there, Will?”

I looked at my mother, who answered for me like I was a child. “Possibly a year.”

Not willing to be left out of the conversation, I jumped in. “What do you know about Wimberley? And what did you mean by ‘of course’?”

“My great-grandmother used to live there. She was asked to leave. Apparently she didn’t fit in. Will, tell me in your own words what the problem is.”

“I’ve lost a year, meaning I don’t remember anything that’s happened since October of
last
year!”

She waved a hand around. “Yes. Yes. I know. But that’s not really a problem. What’s bothering you?”

She didn’t think losing a year was a big deal?

“Search your heart. Tell me what’s
really
bothering you.”

Search my heart?

“I feel like I’ve done something really bad, something I regret, but I don’t know what it is. Something’s missing. Something I think I can’t live without.”

“Well put. The spell you’re wearing is like a film covering your memories. It’s pressed and sealed into place kind of like the plastic wrap you put over leftovers. It can be lifted away if that’s what you want.”

I sat up straighter. “Yes. That’s what I want!”

As soon as I said it, I wondered where my healthy dose of skepticism was. I was missing a year. This stranger said I’d been enchanted and I was going along with that diagnosis as if it was unquestionably true. On the other hand, I didn’t have anything to lose, besides a few bucks.

“You’re incredibly lucky that you have a mother who can recognize symptoms and that she knows somebody who can correct such things.”

I looked at Mom with a newfound respect.

“Alright. I’m not going to pull punches,” Mistral said. “Sometimes this is painful.”

I nodded. “So is not knowing what’s going on.”

“Katrina,” she said to Mom, “maybe you’d like to go inside. This could be hard for you to watch.”

Mom brought herself up to her full height. “I’ll stay. I won’t interfere.”

“See that you don’t,” warned Mistral.

“You ready?” she asked. When I nodded, she said, “Close your eyes.”

The minute I did I felt like my insides were being vacuumed. I gasped and tried to open my eyes, but they stayed closed. I tried to stand, but I couldn’t move. Then wave after wave of memory was restored. Orientation. The contest. Destiny and her beagle. Turning Raider over in the river. The Witches’ Ball. My beautiful Ravish. Our life together. School. Friends. Singing to Rave. And finally, the look of betrayal on her face when I told her I wasn’t staying.

I doubled over and began dry-heaving, struggling to get breath into my lungs in between gags.

“What you’re experiencing is perfectly normal,” Mistral said. “Just relax into it and it will pass shortly. You’re going to be fine.”

Slowly the impulse to gag began to subside as did the inability to get enough air into my lungs. When I was able to open my eyes, I sat up, still panting. My eyes were watering. She handed me a tissue and I took it.

“Wow,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Are you one of them?”

Mistral smiled. “What’s in a name? I can’t sing and I can’t ski worth beans. But I can do this.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Good job. What do I owe you?”

“Two thousand.”

Truthfully, I wouldn’t have questioned it if she’d said more. After all, how much was it worth for me to find out why I couldn’t get comfortable inside my own body. She was right. I was lucky that Mom was Mom.

I pulled out my wallet, counted out twenty bills, and put it back in my pocket.

“So,” Mistral said, “you love her?”

I thought about that for a few seconds and found that I was grinning. “Yeah. I guess I do. What a shame I had to put her through this to figure out that I’m a douche.”

“Well, Willem Wizard, I’m betting the colony is going to be real glad to see you heading back their way. You carry the promise of strong witchy daughters.”

I just stared at her.

Willem Wizard?

Mom was shaking her head. “He doesn’t know there’s a strain running through the family.”

Mistral looked surprised. “Oh. Well, now you do. It’s strong on your mother’s side and you got some from your dad as well. Your name, Draiocht, means wizard.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Have something to eat before you go. There’s not a decent restaurant between here and Mobile.”

I took a couple of the dainty little sandwiches and washed them down with a gulp of minty Arnold. I grabbed a handful of little sweets on our way out and ate them on the path back to the boat.

I looked at my watch. “We were there for an hour and a half?”

“Yeah. It was worth it though. Right?”

“Mom, you’re incredible. How did you know what was wrong and who could fix it?”

“Well, over the years there have been things that needed a little help from outside, a slight course correction you might say. I’m a client of Mistral’s.”

“And you knew this was a magical problem?”

“Like she said, there’s a little bit of the gift running through your own family. That’s probably why the memory wipe didn’t work as well on you as it does on some people.”

“I have to get back. I still have nine days to make this right.”

“Or you turn into a pumpkin?”

“Pretty much. I have to get Rave to take me back before the clock strikes midnight on All Hallows.”

“Okay. So you’re leaving in the morning?”

“No. Leaving as soon as we get back.” I was feeling giddy with hope. “This ride has satellite, Mom. See if you can find us some road trip music.”

Within a couple of minutes we were speeding along, listening to Alabama Shakes. I was feeling lighthearted as possible for a man who knew he had to face his woman and grovel, crawl if necessary, anything to have her turn a smile my way again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was four o’clock by the time I had luggage back in the car trunk and was standing on the driveway giving my mom a hug.

“You’re getting one hell of a Mothers’ Day present next May,” I said. “You may have saved my life.”

“That’s what mothers are for. No thanks necessary, but I wouldn’t mind a car like the one you’re driving.”

After one last kiss on the cheek, I jumped in the car and pulled away as she waved goodbye. “Tell Dad I said I’ll be back soon and we’ll catch up then. I hope you can figure out something to say to him so that he doesn’t think…”

“No worries. Anyway, you know your dad. He’s not big on judging.”