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

  “What did you just say to me?” Aunt Tillie asked, knitting her eyebrows. “Did you just call me … ?”

  “An old bat,” Thistle repeated. “That’s what you are. Everyone knows it. They’re all afraid to tell you, but I’m not. You’re nasty and terrible … like a bat!”

  “I’m guessing Thistle is a mean drunk,” Terry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That figures.”

  “I don’t need to take your lip,” Thistle said, moving toward the stairway. “I’m going to bed. I don’t want to see any of you again for the rest of the night.”

  “That sounds lovely,” I said. “I think we’d all appreciate it if you went to bed.”

  Thistle flounced up the stairs as Bay continued to sob. I risked a glance at Clove and found her passed out. She was drooling, for crying out loud, but that was better than crying or screaming.

  “You know she’s probably going to climb out her window and head for the lake, right?” Terry asked.

  “Crapsticks!”

  “I’m on it,” Twila said, hurrying up the stairs.

  I turned on Aunt Tillie. “Take the spell off.”

  “No.”

  “Take it off or I’ll never speak to you again,” I said.

  “That sounds like an incentive to keep the spell on,” Aunt Tillie sniffed.

  That was my breaking point. I couldn’t take one more minute of this … responsibility. It was killing my soul.

  “Fine! Leave the spell on,” I shouted. “They’re your responsibility now. I’m done. You did this, so you can clean up the mess.”

  “I don’t want to clean up the mess,” Aunt Tillie countered.

  “That’s not really my problem,” I said, striding toward the stairs. “I’m going to my room to take a long bath and then go to bed. I don’t care what the rest of you do. I’m officially on leave from this family. Have a nice night!”

  Aunt Tillie’s mouth dropped open as she watched me climb the stairs. I locked gazes with her, practically daring her to try to stop me. The last thing I heard was Terry taking care of Bay.

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said. “Oh, Bay, please stop that. You know I can’t take it when you cry. I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with Aunt Tillie. If you promise to stop crying you can see me yell at her.”

  I almost wanted to stay and watch that. Almost.

  I WOKE up the next morning feeling surprisingly better. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to let Winnie adopt Clove, and then join the circus. It was really the only option.

  I made as little noise as possible as I descended the stairs. I figured everyone was still asleep, their adventures from the previous evening wearing them down. Instead, I found Twila serving the girls breakfast in the kitchen.

  I watched for a moment, prepared to turn and run if they were still drunk. Twila caught sight of me too soon, though, and offered me an encouraging nod. “It’s okay,” she said. “They’re back to normal.”

  “Well, back to normal for this family,” Bay quipped. I was glad to see she appeared to be in good spirits, although her eyes were puffy.

  “When did the curse lift?” I asked, rolling up my sleeves as I padded into the kitchen. “Was it before or after you went to sleep?”

  “It was after I was asleep,” Clove said. “Thanks for leaving me on the couch like that, by the way. My back is killing me.”

  “You’re young. You’ll bounce back.”

  “I was trying to climb out the window when the spell broke,” Thistle supplied. “Then I was filled with rage and went looking for Aunt Tillie. Chief Terry made me go back to my room and think about better ways to control my temper.”

  “Did it work?”

  “It put me to sleep in the middle of the afternoon, and I didn’t wake up until this morning,” Thistle replied. “It worked for that.”

  “Uh-huh. And what about you, Bay?” I asked. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” Bay said, averting her eyes.

  “You know Terry doesn’t blame you for what happened yesterday, right?” I said. “He’s not angry.”

  “I think she’s embarrassed,” Clove said. “She doesn’t want to talk about it, though.”

  “Then we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” I said. “What about everything else? Where do we stand on the party preparations?” I thought a return to some semblance of normality was in order. No one wanted to dwell on yesterday’s hijinks.

  “I got the bread finished and did most of the cookies,” Twila said. “We still have to bake the pies today, and someone needs to run to the market to get the rest of the stuff. We have a list, and it’s a big one.”

  “That’s not too bad,” I said. “How do you want to tackle things?”

  Twila glanced at each of the girls in turn. “Why don’t you guys tell her how we’re going to handle stuff?” she suggested.

  “I’m going to the clearing to talk to Constance,” Bay offered. “I hope she’ll be able to lead me to her body. I’m not getting too close – so don’t expect that – but I hope she’ll move on when we find her body, and then we can tell Chief Terry where to find her.”

  “What if she won’t talk to you?”

  Bay shrugged. “I can’t force her to talk to me, but if I’m patient and sit there she might come to me,” she said. “I can only do what I can do.”

  “You sound like your mother.”

  “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Bay said, making a face.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thank you for handling the ghost,” I said. “I know it’s not your favorite thing to do, but with everyone arriving tomorrow we have a lot to deal with. The ghost is at the top of the list. If you run into trouble … .” What? Who was supposed to help her?

  “I’ll figure something out,” Bay finished. “I know Aunt Tillie won’t help.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask about Aunt Tillie,” I said. “Where is she?”

  “After Terry forced her to lift the curse, she took off, swearing she was leaving the family and joining the circus,” Twila answered. “She’s probably in her room … or out in the garden. She’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, that’s good,” I said. “What about Clove and Thistle? What are you two doing today?”

  “We’re doing the shopping,” Clove announced. “Twila thought it would be good for us.”

  “Yes, and we’re really excited about it,” Thistle deadpanned.

  “Well, while you’re in town, you should also stop by the police station and apologize to Terry,” I said. “You said some really mean things to him last night.”

  Thistle’s cheeks flushed with color. “I will.”

  Wow! If she wasn’t putting up an argument she must know she was wrong. That was a first.

  “Well, I guess we have a plan for the day,” I said. “Thistle, can you go to the linen closet and get that box of ritual materials and bring it to me?”

  It was a test. Thistle is usually the least helpful of the girls. She didn’t give me an ounce of lip, though, instead accepting the key in my hand before getting to her feet and leaving the kitchen. I was really impressed. “She must feel pretty awful about the things she said last night.”

  “I think she’s embarrassed and processing,” Twila replied. “She feels bad about what she said to Terry. She knows he didn’t deserve it. She doesn’t feel bad about what she said to Aunt Tillie, though. I’m not sure she’ll apologize for that.”

  “Probably not,” I said, turning to the stove to dish up some breakfast. “If we all stay on task, we should be able to get everything ready in time. Winnie returns first thing tomorrow morning. We still have a shot at pulling this off without her finding out what a disaster everything has been.”

  Bay snorted. “She’ll know. She always knows.”

  Unfortunately, she was right. “I’m not giving up hope,” I said. “I … .” I lost my train of thought when Thistle reappeared in the doorway. Her face told me things were
not as pleasant in the Winchester world as I thought this morning. “What’s wrong now?”

  “That box isn’t in the linen closet,” Thistle said. “It’s gone.”

  Crapsticks! How did that happen? The universe must hate me. There can be no other explanation.

  Seven

  “What do you mean the box isn’t in the closet?” I asked, my heart rolling. “I put it there yesterday.”

  “It’s not there,” Thistle said, shrugging. “There’s only one linen closet, and the spot on the floor is empty. There aren’t any other boxes in there.”

  “I just … .” I broke off, pursing my lips. “Aunt Tillie. She had to take it. The girls were drunk yesterday, so it couldn’t have been them. That leaves only Aunt Tillie.”

  “She’s our only option,” Twila agreed. “Where would she take it?”

  “More importantly, why does she want it?” I corrected. “It has to be in the house somewhere. My guess is she has it in the basement. That’s the only place she would dare keep it in case it rains or something. The elements could ruin that stuff.”

  “What should we do?” Twila asked, rubbing her thumb over her bottom lip. I could practically smell the smoke from the gears grinding in her head. What? That’s not mean. I love my sister. It will take forever if I let her figure this out, though.

  “Okay, new plan,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Bay, you go to the clearing and talk to Constance. Find her body if you can, but don’t look at it. It’s important.”

  Bay nodded.

  “Twila, you’re taking over shopping duties,” I said. “It was a nice thought, but I need Clove and Thistle to do something else. That means you’re the only one who can do the shopping.”

  “What are you going to do?” Twila challenged.

  “I’m going to supervise,” I answered. “I am the boss, after all.”

  I caught the amused glances passing among the girls. I would deal with them later.

  “What are you going to have Clove and Thistle do?” Twila asked, biding for time. No one wanted to do the shopping. It was a massive list. That’s why we’d been putting it off.

  “I’m going to have them search the basement for the box,” I answered, not missing a beat.

  Thistle and Clove gaped in horror at the suggestion.

  “Are you crazy?” Thistle exploded. “That old lady will kill us if she catches us going through her stuff.”

  “Like horror movie kill,” Clove interjected. “She’ll rip our jaws off and leave us in the median of the road like in that movie with the serial killer who drove the big truck.”

  “You’re never allowed to watch television with Thistle again,” I snapped. “Aunt Tillie won’t kill you. She’s cantankerous and mean sometimes, but she won’t kill you.”

  “That’s true,” Twila said sagely. “She’s far more likely to curse you again. She won’t kill you, though. If she killed you, she wouldn’t be able to torture you. She gets bored easily.”

  “I don’t want to be cursed again,” Thistle huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like it.”

  “No one does.”

  “I kind of liked it,” Clove said. “I still want those shoes.”

  She was my daughter and I adored her. I still wanted to smack her sometimes. Thankfully, child abuse is frowned upon in civilized circles. I don’t want to draw attention to myself. “You can worry about the shoes later,” I said. “You guys have to go downstairs and find that box. When you do, don’t touch it. Come up and get me. I’ll handle Aunt Tillie when it comes time to reclaim the supplies.”

  “Is anyone else worried she’s concocting a really horrible spell that’s going to turn us all into toads or something?” Bay asked.

  “I’m more worried she’s replacing ingredients with other things so we’ll inadvertently cast our own bad spell,” I said. That sounded just like her. “She had to know I would discover the box was gone. That means she planned to put it back before she thought I’d look in the closet.”

  “She’s conspicuously absent from breakfast, too,” Twila mused. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “No,” I agreed.

  “What happens if she’s down there when we go looking?” Thistle asked. “She’ll know we’re up to something.”

  “She has a sick sense,” Clove said.

  “Sixth,” I automatically corrected.

  “No, it’s sick,” Thistle said. “She’ll know we’re up to mischief if she sees us. Heck, she thinks we’re up to stuff when we’re really not. It’s rare, but it does happen.”

  She had a point. I tapped my chin as I internally debated a solution. “Tell her you’re gathering those canvas chairs for the ritual site,” I suggested. “They’re stacked in the far corner down there. Bring one chair up here at a time. That will allow you to search every nook and cranny without calling attention to yourselves.”

  Bay barked out a coarse laugh, causing me to scorch her with a look. “And I thought I had the worst job.”

  “Speaking of your job, you need to get moving,” I prodded. “We all have tasks to do. Let’s do them together.”

  Twila sidled toward me and lowered her voice. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve conveniently given yourself the easiest job,” she said. “I won’t forget this.”

  “It’s purely out of necessity,” I lied. “Someone has to man things in the kitchen. I would be more than happy to do the shopping if you want to stay here and deal with the Aunt Tillie fallout should she realize the girls are snooping through her stuff. It’s entirely up to you.”

  I didn’t miss Twila’s noticeable gulp.

  “I’ll do the shopping,” she grumbled.

  “I thought you would.”

  “You really know how to win an argument, don’t you?” Twila said.

  “It’s taken years of practice, but yes,” I confirmed. “Now, come on! We have a solstice celebration to save.”

  Bay and Thistle exchanged a dubious look.

  “I was more excited that year we saved Christmas,” Bay intoned.

  “You and me both,” Thistle said.

  I waved my finger in the direction of the basement. “Go!”

  MY HEART rate was unnaturally high as I set about peeling apples for pies. Clove and Thistle made a seemingly endless series of trips into the basement, each one more nerve-wracking than the next. The basement appeared empty, but no one was taking any chances. If the basement was truly vacant, though, that prompted a terrifying worry: Where was Aunt Tillie hiding?

  I lost track of time between trips, and before I realized what was happening I had six apple pies ready to go in the oven and two blackberry pies ready for fruit stuffing. That’s when Thistle and Clove brought the last round of chairs to the main floor.

  “We didn’t see anything,” Thistle announced. “If she has something down there, she’s doing a good job of hiding it.”

  That’s exactly what I feared. “Look again.”

  “You look again,” Thistle shot back. “We’re not going back down there. No way. No how. Nothing doing.”

  “Have I ever told you what a joy you are?” I asked.

  Thistle shrugged, unperturbed. “Have I ever told you that forcing us to perform tasks that will get us cursed is mean and cowardly?”

  I scowled. Thistle was the best button pusher in the business, no doubt about it. “Go back down there,” I ordered. “If Aunt Tillie was down there, you would’ve seen her by now. That means she’s out of the house. This could be our only shot.”

  “Why don’t you just demand she show you where the box is?” Thistle countered. “You’re in charge, right? She should have to listen to you.”

  “Give me a break,” I snapped. “We both know that’s not going to happen.”

  “We also both know that Aunt Tillie will do something horrible to us if she catches us going through her stuff,” Thistle said. “I’m not going to do it.” She crossed her arms over her chest for emphasis.
<
br />   I turned my eyes to Clove. “You do it.”

  “I don’t like it down there,” Clove whined. “It’s dark and scary. I think there are monsters hiding under the stairs. I saw a movie once where people were hiding under the stairs. They kind of looked like monsters, but they were nice. I think we have monsters, though, and I don’t want to meet them.”

  “You’re banned from television for the rest of your life,” I snapped. “You both need to go down there and find that box. It’s important.”

  “No,” Thistle said, shaking her head. “I’m putting my foot down.”

  I was going to put my foot somewhere, and she wasn’t going to like it. I sucked in a breath to calm myself, and then approached Clove and Thistle from a different tack. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you go down there and find that box.”

  Clove looked intrigued. “Each?”

  I internally sighed. “Yes.”

  “Make it thirty and you’re on,” Thistle countered.

  “Twenty.”

  “Thirty or it’s no deal, and you can find the box yourself,” Thistle shot back. “I’m not risking myself for anything less than thirty dollars.”

  “Fine,” I muttered, resigned. “If you find that box I’ll give you each thirty dollars.”

  “Great,” Thistle said, gracing me with a bright smile, more evil than sweet. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

  “You just extorted your favorite aunt,” I reminded her. “You might not want to look so smug when you take that into consideration.”

  Thistle shrugged, unbothered. “It’s a capitalistic society, my friend,” she said. “You have to play to win if you want to be let in the game.”

  “You watch too much television, too,” I said. “Find that box.” I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and moved toward the rear door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to start putting pies in the oven. If you find the box, hide it someplace up here where Aunt Tillie can’t find it.”

  “You told us not to touch it,” Clove protested.

  “That’s when I thought Aunt Tillie was in the basement,” I said. “She’s not. Bring it upstairs and hide it.”