A Solstice Celebration: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short Read online

  “We were not worse,” I snapped. “We were good kids. Aunt Tillie was lucky to have us.”

  Aunt Tillie snorted, tickled by the statement. “Yes, I seem to remember the time you went skinny-dipping with the Travis boy, and his father caught you. He thought you were wearing a flotation device because your boobs were so big. When he came to the house he was horrified and said you refused to come out of the water. At least these girls weren’t naked.”

  My cheeks burned, and when I risked a glance at Terry I found his face flushed with color. Apparently the “flotation device” comment embarrassed him as much as me.

  “We didn’t steal your wine and party in a field,” I pointed out.

  “Only because I was younger then and it was easier to keep my wine locked up,” Aunt Tillie said. “You tried. I put a spell on the door, and it alerted whenever you tried to break in. Do you want to know how many times that spell alerted?”

  Not even remotely. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

  “Whatever,” Aunt Tillie said, turning her attention to the door as a bedraggled Bay, Clove and Thistle trudged into the kitchen. They looked as if they’d seen better days.

  “Well, there they are,” I bellowed, internally laughing as the three of them cringed in unison, reaching for their foreheads. “It’s the three lights of my life. How are you girls feeling this fine morning?”

  “There’s no need to scream,” Thistle said, hopping up on one of the counter stools and reaching for the pot of coffee. “We can hear you fine if you whisper. In fact, I think we should have a silent breakfast this morning. How does that sound?”

  “What was that?” I yelled. “I can’t hear you.”

  “Mom, stop,” Clove pleaded. “I think my head is going to explode.”

  “I think mine already did,” Bay said. “I feel like toe lint.”

  Terry raised his eyebrows as he regarded the girls. I was mildly curious to see how he would handle this. Usually when approaching them he took a quiet tone. That wasn’t the case this morning.

  “Do you girls realize how incredibly stupid you were last night?” Terry exploded, causing Bay to shrink back.

  For a moment I thought I saw regret on Terry’s face. The last thing he wanted was for Bay to fear him. He regrouped, though, and didn’t relax his stance.

  “You stole wine that was illegally made,” Terry continued. “That means it’s stronger than the stuff in the store.”

  “Much, much stronger,” I intoned.

  “You drank yourselves silly in the middle of a field,” Terry said. “First, what you did was illegal and I could’ve arrested you. Then you would’ve had records forever. Good luck getting a job with a record.”

  Thistle snorted. “Yes, I can see it now,” she said. “I’m sorry, Ms. Winchester, but we can’t hire you. I see here you drank in a field when you were sixteen. No job for you. Goodbye.”

  Terry ignored her. “Second, what would’ve happened if one of you fell and hit your head?” he asked. “You could’ve bled out and died. Would it have been worth it then?”

  “No one fell and hit their head,” Bay argued. “We were just … horsing around.”

  “Technically, I was a dog,” Thistle said, laughing to herself despite Terry’s serious tone. “Did I bark at you guys, or am I remembering that wrong?”

  “You definitely barked,” Twila said, striding into the room. “You were extremely obnoxious.”

  “No more obnoxious than you waking us up with a resounding rendition of ‘Tomorrow,’” Thistle charged, scorching her mother with a harsh look. “Do you have any idea how horrifying that was to wake up to? I thought I’d died and gone to Hell.”

  Ah. So that’s what Aunt Tillie was up to when she first came in. As far as payback goes, it was fitting.

  “I’m thinking of playing Miss Hannigan in the town’s production of ‘Annie,’” Twila explained. “I think I have a real shot.”

  “I think I’m going to want to be shot if you sing like that again,” Thistle said.

  “Hey, I’m not done talking here,” Terry said, glancing around the room. “I’m serious, girls. What you did last night wasn’t acceptable. Not only that, it was rude to your mothers and aunts, and it was disrespectful to me to boot. I’m ashamed of all of you.”

  Thistle didn’t look bothered by the proclamation, and Clove merely shrank in her chair to escape detection. Bay, though, looked crushed.

  “We’re sorry,” Bay said, her voice small. “We didn’t mean to upset everyone. We only wanted to have a good time.”

  “And why did you think taking wine to drink in a field in the middle of the woods would be fun?” Terry pressed. “Who in their right mind thinks that’s fun?”

  Clove pointed across the counter, her finger singling out me. She always was a narc. “They do it once a month,” she said.

  “And they’re naked when they do it,” Thistle added. “At least we weren’t naked.”

  Oh, crapsticks!

  Terry shifted his eyes to me, narrowing them as he looked me up and down. I couldn’t decide whether he was picturing me naked or trying to decide whether the girls were telling the truth. One was definitely preferable over the other. Actually, you know what? I’m fine with both of them. I look good naked.

  “Do you and your sisters go to the clearing and drink wine?” Terry asked.

  “Well … .” I wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “Are you naked when you do it?”

  “Well … .”

  “Do you do this in front of the girls?” Terry asked, his voice becoming increasingly shrill.

  “We don’t do it in front of the girls,” Twila clarified. “They’re supposed to be in bed. They’ve sneaked out a few times, though. I thought they would stop after the last … um … incident. They saw Aunt Tillie naked that time, and it traumatized them.”

  “I look good naked,” Aunt Tillie snapped, causing me to realize that not only did I look like her, but I thought like her, too. That was … horrifying!

  As if picturing Winnie, Twila and me naked wasn’t enough, now Terry had to grapple with the potential vision of full-frontal Aunt Tillie entering the fray. “Why would you do that?”

  “We like to commune with nature,” Aunt Tillie replied, unruffled. “It’s better to commune with wine and nudity. It’s … freeing.”

  “Oh, good Lord,” Terry muttered, rubbing his forehead. “How can you expect these girls to behave when they’re emulating you?”

  “We’re so not emulating them,” Thistle said. “We left our clothes on. Seeing Aunt Tillie’s boobs flopping around cured us of any desire to be out there naked. Did you know boobs could spin in different directions?”

  “No.” Terry was dumbfounded, frozen in his spot on the other side of the counter. He looked like the man whose faced helped coin the term deer caught in the headlights. Whoops! Maybe “headlights” wasn’t the right term given the topic at hand.

  “Well, they can,” Thistle said. “One spun this way and the other spun that way. I swear there was a moment where she had a third boob that hit her in the face.”

  “That was my hand,” Aunt Tillie snapped, furious.

  “That doesn’t make it better,” Thistle scoffed.

  “Okay, this conversation has taken a turn I didn’t see coming,” Terry said. “From now on, you girls are not allowed to drink. It’s illegal until you’re twenty-one. If I see it again I’ll arrest you. Do you understand?”

  Thistle and Clove made faces as they nodded, but Bay didn’t move. Terry locked his gaze on her. “Do you understand, Bay?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice cracking. “I … didn’t mean to disappoint you.”

  Terry’s face softened. “You didn’t really disappoint me,” he said. I knew he’d give in if she turned on the waterworks. He’s such a softie. “After hearing what your role models are doing, they’re the ones who disappointed me.”

  Bay wasn’t convinced. “So … you’re not angry?”
r />   “I’m not happy, Bay,” Terry clarified. “We all know I can’t stay angry with you girls, though. No more shenanigans. That’s the rule.”

  “I didn’t agree to that rule,” Aunt Tillie said.

  Terry scowled. “I can’t even look at you,” he said. “I’m going to have nightmares.”

  “It’s probably the most action you’ll see this month,” Aunt Tillie said, patting his arm. “You should be thankful.”

  Somehow I didn’t think that’s what Terry was feeling.

  “THERE’S a delivery man here,” Clove said, wandering into the kitchen a few hours later. She looked markedly better. The color had returned to her cheeks and she seemed almost chipper. “He says you have to sign for the box.”

  “That must be all of the ritual supplies,” I said, wiping my hands on a dishtowel. “Thank you for telling me. You’re still grounded for two weeks.”

  “I know,” Clove said, making a disgusted face as she followed me out of the kitchen. “Would it help if I told you I’m sorry?”

  “No.”

  “Would it help if I told you Thistle and Bay made me do it?” Clove tried again.

  “Your cousins have strong wills, but you’re not a doormat, Clove,” I said. “Your cousins didn’t make you do anything. You were a willing participant.”

  “Would it help if I told you that Thistle threatened to cut my hair off while I slept if I told?” Clove asked.

  I actually believed that. There was only one problem with that scenario. “All you had to do was come and tell me what Thistle was threatening,” I said, moving through the bed and breakfast and heading to the front door. “I would’ve taken care of Thistle. She wouldn’t have done anything to you.”

  “She would’ve waited until you weren’t looking and made me eat dirt,” Clove argued. “That’s not nothing. Have you ever tasted dirt? It’s gross.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Winnie often wrestles people down and tries to make them eat dirt. “You’ve eaten a lot of dirt, Clove,” I said. “You would’ve survived.”

  “But … .”

  “No,” I said, cutting her off with a shake of my head. “You’re grounded for two weeks and you’re a slave to my whims until this solstice celebration is over. That means you’re going to be worked to the bone. I hope you enjoy it.”

  I greeted the deliveryman at the door and signed for the package before dragging it inside and opening it to make sure everything was present. Bay and Thistle joined Clove to check out the delivery, their eyes wide as they watched me count herbs and potions.

  “What is all of that?” Thistle asked, intrigued. “Is that for the good luck spell on ritual night?”

  “It is,” I confirmed, replacing everything in the box. “It’s for grownups. That means it’s not for you guys. Do you understand?”

  Clove solemnly nodded while Bay and Thistle exchanged quick looks. I smelled trouble.

  “I’m not joking,” I said. “This stuff isn’t to be messed with. Don’t touch it. Don’t even look at it. In fact … .” I glanced around the room. “I’m going to lock it up.”

  “We’re not going to do anything,” Thistle argued. “You’ve made sure we can’t. We’re grounded, remember?”

  I barked out a coarse laugh. “You got in trouble on our property last night,” I reminded them. “You don’t have to be out of the house to cause mayhem. I’m not an idiot.”

  “I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating,” Thistle said. “You’re assuming we’re going to do something wrong when we haven’t done something wrong yet. That’s … convicting us before the fact.” She looked to Bay for confirmation to make sure her phrasing was correct. When Bay nodded, Thistle continued her diatribe. “We’re supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. You’re assuming we’re guilty.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That might work on Twila, but you’re preaching to the wrong audience,” I said. “I know you girls. You’re always guilty. Don’t touch this stuff. If you do, I’ll make sure Terry arrests you.”

  “He won’t arrest us,” Thistle scoffed. “He loves Bay too much. He would never arrest her.”

  “He will if we disappoint him again,” Bay said. I could tell she was still troubled by Terry’s words. She’s sensitive sometimes. It drives me batty. “We won’t get in the magic stuff.”

  “We promise,” Clove said, offering me a small smile. “Can we have a week off our grounding now?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said, hoisting the box and balancing it on my hip. “I’m watching you guys.”

  “Aren’t you always?” Thistle asked.

  “I am,” I confirmed. “On top of that, Aunt Tillie is out for revenge. I would hate to be you girls right now.”

  Thistle balked. Aunt Tillie’s wrath is the only thing that keeps her in line. “But … we’re already grounded,” she said. “She can’t punish us, too. You’ll stop her, right?”

  “Have you ever seen me stop her from doing something she really wants to do?” I challenged.

  “We’re dead,” Clove said.

  “You are,” I agreed. “I hope you have a lovely funeral, girls.”

  Five

  “Where are the girls?” I asked, joining Twila in the kitchen later that afternoon and scanning the room for mutinous faces. They were angry and plotting. I could feel it.

  She looked up from the dough she was rolling, a blank look on her face. “I thought they were with you.”

  “Great,” I muttered, stalking toward the rear door. “I’m going to kill them,” I said. “I swear, if they’re getting into trouble, I’m literally going to kill them this time. That way they can come back as ghosts and haunt Aunt Tillie.”

  “That sounds fun,” Twila said, clearly absorbed with her work. She can focus only on one thing at a time. It’s infuriating. Winchesters are multitaskers. She should get with the program.

  I pulled up short when I saw the girls sitting on the back patio. Reclining in patio chairs, they appeared to be chatting. If they were plotting they would be whispering. Aunt Tillie has impressive ears for a woman her age.

  “What are they doing?” Twila asked, refusing to turn from her dough. “Are they in trouble?”

  I shook my head. “They’re just sitting out there,” I answered. “I guess that means they’re not in trouble … for now. They have all their limbs, though. I’ll call that a win.”

  Twila snorted. “I’m surprised we haven’t seen any fallout from Aunt Tillie yet,” she said. “I thought for sure she would curse them.”

  “I think that’s still to come,” I said, moving toward the counter. “Okay, what are you doing?”

  “I’m rolling dough.”

  She’s a master of the obvious sometimes. “What is the dough for?” I asked, tamping down my irritation. “Is it for bread or rolls?”

  “Oh,” Twila said, realization dawning. “It’s for bread. I’m making vegetable, cinnamon, cracked wheat, white and regular wheat loaves.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Do you think that’s enough?”

  “I think that’s enough for twice the amount of people we’ll be hosting this weekend,” I said, rummaging under the counter for baking supplies. “I think we have enough for a town bread shortage, should it happen.”

  “Ha, ha,” Twila said. “Are you baking cookies or pies first?”

  “Cookies,” I replied. “I’m going to gather the girls in a half hour or so to peel the fruit for the pies. That should put them in a terrible mood. It will keep them near us in case Aunt Tillie decides to curse them. I’m worried about what she’ll come up with this time.”

  “Me, too,” Twila said. “She was really angry.”

  “I don’t know what she expects,” I said, rolling up my shirtsleeves. “You can’t keep homemade wine out in the open in a house with three teenaged girls and expect them not to get into it.”

  “Technically, I think you can expect that,” Twila countered. “Probably only if you’re in a different
family, though.”

  “Probably,” I agreed.

  “Have you heard from Winnie yet?” Twila asked, not realizing the question set my teeth on edge. “She’ll be angry when she hears about the drinking.”

  “Well, we don’t want her angry,” I said, adopting a breezy tone. “I think I’m going to wait until she gets back to tell her about the drinking. I don’t want to worry her. She has a lot going on at the conference.”

  Twila giggled. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

  Honestly? Yeah, I did. “It’s the truth,” I protested.

  “You don’t want to tell Winnie about the drinking because she left you in charge, and this proves you fell down on the job,” Twila said. “I don’t care whether you tell her. Personally, I’m not all that upset about what they did. I mean, I don’t like the stealing and lying, but it’s not as if we didn’t do the same thing when we were their age.”

  I hate it when she has a point. It’s rare, don’t get me wrong, but it’s irksome all the same. “I don’t want to hear a thousand ‘I told you so’s’ from Winnie,” I admitted. “She expects me to fail. I don’t want to fail. It’s a vicious cycle, but there it is.”

  “We don’t have to tell Winnie what happened,” Twila said. “We can’t ensure Aunt Tillie won’t tell her, but we don’t have to tell her. It’s not as if the girls will volunteer the information, and Aunt Tillie is likely to forget when the other witches start showing up. The second they touch her stuff she’ll forget all about being angry with the girls, and instead try to get them to help her pull pranks on our guests.”

  “They’re grounded for two weeks,” I reminded her.

  “Oh, please,” Twila scoffed. “That won’t stick. It never does. They’ll wear us down in three days, and we’ll un-ground them just to get them out of our hair. Thistle is a master at wearing us down. Don’t underestimate her.”

  I never do. “We’ll figure it out as we go along,” I said. “I … .” I didn’t get a chance to finish because the phone on the wall started ringing. I knew who it was before I even answered. I let loose with a long sigh and then picked up the receiver. “Hello, Winnie.”