wicked witches 08.6 - a witch in time Page 7

  “Yup.” Instead of telling me, Landon wrapped his arm around my waist while I scanned the unfamiliar terrain. I glanced down to find his head resting against my chest, his eyes pressed shut. He looked exhausted.

  “Do you need a nap?”

  “Bay, if I could find a way to crawl into bed with you and wait this out, I would,” Landon replied. “That’s not a possibility, though, so I’m just taking comfort in you for a few minutes before the next memory bonks us over the head.”

  “Or back,” I said, earning a grin when he lifted his face.

  “Or back,” Landon conceded. “I love you dearly, woman, but you can’t land on me again. You’re tiny, but that hurt.”

  “You can land on me next time.”

  “I would rather not kill you.”

  “I don’t think we can die here,” I said, pursing my lips. I still couldn’t figure out where we were and it drove me crazy thinking Landon knew Hemlock Cove locations better than I did. “We’re not really here. Our minds are, but our bodies are still in the hospital. We’ll be okay.”

  “I know we’ll be okay,” Landon said. “That doesn’t mean this doesn’t hurt. I don’t want to risk dying and testing your theory. Let’s try to stay out of imminent peril if we can help it.”

  “Okay,” I said, running my fingers through his hair as he hugged me. “Landon?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You have to tell me where we are because otherwise I’ll have a nervous breakdown,” I said. “Seriously, I have no idea where we are. How can you recognize this place? It looks like a bunch of trees.”

  “I’ve searched the property behind The Overlook for you a time or two,” Landon answered. “This is the spot below the incline that leads to the bluff. I recognize it, but there are more trees in this period.”

  I jerked my head to the side, exhaling heavily when I realized he was right. “Oh, of course! I didn’t recognize the slope with that forested area. That was gone long before we popped into existence.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, we’re moving in chronological order,” Landon supplied. “We saw Aunt Tillie as a small child first … then as a teenager … and then on her wedding day. When do you think we are now?”

  “How should I know?”

  “What’s out at the bluff, Bay?” Landon pressed

  “Do you know something I don’t?” I asked. That didn’t seem possible, but he almost seemed resigned.

  “I know what’s on the far side of the bluff,” Landon answered. “It was the first thing I noticed when you took me up there after we started dating. I pointed something out to you and you very reluctantly explained it to me. Do you remember what that was?”

  I racked my brain. “I … don’t remember. I remember taking a walk with you. If you must know, though, my heart was pounding really hard because you were holding my hand and I thought we might do some kissing. That was long before we kissed on a regular basis.”

  Landon snorted. “You’re so annoyingly cute sometimes,” he said. “I was nervous that night, too. I have no idea why, looking back on the situation. It was a great night. However, you took me to the bluff from this direction. You told me you guys rarely access the bluff from this direction for a reason. What was that reason?”

  “Oh,” I intoned, realization dawning. “Grandma Ginger’s ashes were scattered on this side.”

  “And you have a simple marker for her just on the other side of those trees,” Landon said. “I can’t remember anyone from your family coming out to this specific site other than that night. I’ve looked for you a few times – I’ve seen the marker on each occasion – but no one ever comes out here.”

  “I think it makes people too sad.”

  “Well, Aunt Tillie didn’t seem as if her head was in a good place when we saw her last,” Landon pointed out. “I think it’s entirely possible that triggered a sad memory. What’s sadder than Ginger dying?”

  “Uncle Calvin dying.”

  “I don’t think we’re there yet,” Landon said. “Didn’t he live for several years after Ginger died?”

  The timeline was murky in my head, but I knew Uncle Calvin lived long enough to see my mother and aunts marry, because he walked all of them down the aisle. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

  “I have to redeem myself after you were right about us not time traveling,” Landon said. “I should’ve known that because the cut on your cheek is gone. That means we’re not really here, despite how much it hurts.”

  “You weren’t wrong,” I clarified. “You were excited to think you might be in a Star Trek episode.”

  Landon scowled. “Make all the fun you want, little missy,” he said. “I’m buying one of those short costume dresses and making you parade around in it while calling me ‘captain’ before everything is said and done.”

  Sadly, that sounded more fun than horrible. “I want a blue one. I look terrible in red.”

  Landon smirked. “Done,” he said, extending his hand. “Let’s go to a funeral, shall we?”

  We were quiet as we made our way to the top of the bluff, being careful to skirt close to the trees so we didn’t intrude. Even though I knew Landon was right about the memory before we caught sight of a grieving Aunt Tillie, Uncle Calvin and the three nieces who would soon become their wards, my heart still rolled at the sight.

  Landon kept his arm around me as we watched. Ginger had been cremated. Mom, Marnie and Twila carried her urn to the edge of the bluff to scatter her ashes in the wind so she would always be a part of the land she loved so much. Calvin and Tillie were stoic as they watched, although it was obvious five hearts were broken at having to say goodbye.

  I glanced around for a glimpse of my Aunt Tillie, but wherever she was I couldn’t find her.

  “What are we going to do now?” Twila asked.

  “We’re going back to the house to have dinner,” Tillie replied, resting her hand on Twila’s shoulder. “Then you guys should think about going to bed early. Things won’t be better when you wake up, but a new day marks new beginnings.”

  “Maybe we don’t want new beginnings,” Marnie said, kicking at the ground. “Did you ever consider that?”

  “Of course I’ve considered it,” Tillie said. “It doesn’t matter what you want, though. You can be sad for as long as you want. You can be sad forever, in fact. That doesn’t mean you won’t eventually move on.

  “There will come a time when you don’t cry when you think about your mother,” she continued. “It’s not here … and it’s not close … but it will happen. Someday you’ll be able to think about her and smile.”

  “That’s right,” Calvin said. “You have good memories of your mother. Those will be the important things down the road. The sadness you feel now will lift. You’ll … move on.”

  “I don’t want to move on and forget Mom,” Marnie argued. “That doesn’t seem right.”

  “We won’t forget,” Tillie said. “We’ll never forget. She’ll always be here in spirit, though. She’ll always be watching.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Twila asked, her expression earnest and hopeful. “Do you think she’ll be watching us forever?”

  “I do,” Tillie confirmed, nodding. “That means you need to clean up your act. She’s like Santa Claus. She knows when you’ve been naughty or nice. She’ll punish you if you’re naughty.”

  Calvin slapped his hand to his forehead and groaned. “Don’t tell them that,” he said. “You’ll give them nightmares.”

  “That’s the point,” Tillie said.

  My mother, who had been largely silent for most of the exchange, risked a small smile. “I think Mom would want us to be naughty,” she said. “She would think it was funny if we made you run around trying to keep us in check.”

  “That’s an interesting theory, Winnie,” Tillie said. “Do you want to test it to see whether it’s true?”

  Mom shrugged. “I might test it down the road.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re all g
oing to test it down the road,” Tillie said. “It’s in your nature to be pains. You learned that from me.”

  “What did we learn from Mom?” Twila asked.

  “You learned … .” Aunt Tillie broke off and licked her lips. “You learned to be loyal and fight to keep our family together. That was always the most important thing to Ginger. It’s important to all of you, too.

  “You all got something special from your mother,” she continued. “Marnie, you got the ability to cook the best pies in town … and lord it over anyone who tries to say differently. Twila, you got your artistic streak from her … although Goddess knows where you got that hair color. Did you purposely buy the loudest dye in the store?”

  Twila, the red hair I’d never seen her without glinting in the waning sunshine, held her palms up by way of explanation. “I wanted Mom to be able to see me from far away.”

  “Well, you’ve managed that,” Tillie said.

  “What about me?” Mom asked. “What did I get?”

  Aunt Tillie swiveled and locked gazes with Mom, her eyes bright. “You got your stubborn streak from her,” she said. “You always have to be the peacekeeper. You have to be the best at everything. Ginger had that, too.”

  Marnie made a face and wrinkled her nose. “You have to be the best at everything, too,” she pointed out. “You never want to be the peacekeeper, though.”

  “That’s because keeping the peace is highly overrated,” Tillie replied. “You girls all got something from me, too. Those are fun and loud things, though. The quiet introspection you got from your mother. Your ability to charm everyone you got from me. They’re both good gifts.”

  I risked a glance at Landon and found him smiling as he leaned his head closer to mine.

  “Did you get your ability to charm me from Aunt Tillie?” he kept his voice low when he asked the question.

  “I guess so.”

  “I’ll have to thank her when we see her again,” Landon said. “Speaking of that … .” He gripped my hand tightly.

  “You think we’re about to shift again, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think we’re going to see Aunt Tillie here,” Landon answered. “She doesn’t want to intrude on the moment any more than we do. We won’t see her again until it’s a better memory. This one is too … sad.”

  “It is sad,” I agreed. “Still, Aunt Tillie was really good with them. I never got to see this side of her before.”

  “You probably did when you were young,” Landon replied. “You just didn’t realize it. Shh. They’re walking past. Be quiet.”

  Tillie kept the conversation light as she walked down the trail with her nieces, casting a final look at the marker and causing my heart to hitch when she blew a kiss in the direction of the simple gravestone. “Until we meet again,” she whispered.

  “Hey, Aunt Tillie, what are we having for dinner?” Twila called out. “I’m starving.”

  “Homemade chili and cornbread,” Tillie replied, taking a moment to collect herself. “There’s enough to fill everyone up.”

  “You didn’t make it, did you?” Marnie asked. “This has already been a crappy day. We don’t need to add food poisoning to it.”

  Calvin chuckled as Tillie scowled. “I made the chili,” he said. “I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “That’s good,” Mom said. “I finally feel like I could eat something. That feeling wouldn’t last very long if we were forced to eat something that tastes like feet.”

  “I’m so glad you girls are teenagers,” Tillie said. “I love teenagers. Have I ever told you that?”

  The group continued talking as it moved away from the bluff and toward a different life. I waited for the memory to shift, but before it did I caught a glimpse of my Aunt Tillie as she walked onto the bluff and stared at the marker. She looked … distraught.

  I opened my mouth to call out to her, but she jerked her head in my direction and shook it. She didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. That much was obvious.

  “Here we go,” Landon said, clasping my hand tightly. “We’re moving again.”

  And so we were.

  * * *

  You only have to grow up if you have kids. I didn’t have kids. That’s why I don’t ever have to grow up. I’m like Peter Pan – but without the fruity tights.

  – Aunt Tillie on why immaturity is better than responsibility

  Eight

  “Good grief! This hurts worse every single time.” Landon tilted to his side on the grass as the new memory phased into being. “Rub me.”

  I moved my hands from my own back and placed them on Landon’s, obediently massaging. What? I generally don’t follow orders, but he’s only in this predicament because of me.

  “Oh, that’s better,” Landon muttered. “I think she’s dropping us like this on purpose. There can be no other explanation.”

  “I think she’s doing other things on purpose, too,” I mused.

  “Like what?”

  “She’s controlling absolutely everything,” I answered. “Have you noticed that we can interact with some memories and not with others? I don’t think anyone would’ve been able to see us even if we tried to talk to them in the last one.”

  “Okay, but to what end? Oh, and lower,” Landon prodded.

  I frowned. “If I move my hands lower I’ll be rubbing your butt.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  I scowled. “We don’t have time for that.”

  “Hey, I think if we did have time for that Aunt Tillie would be so mortified she’d wake up just to get away from us,” Landon said. “It’s worth a short.”

  “Only you would be in the mood after watching a funeral,” I grumbled.

  Landon’s expression softened as he glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was wrong. I’m trying to keep things light. I don’t know what to say about the funeral.”

  “I don’t know what to say either,” I admitted. “No one ever talks about any of that. Whenever everyone tells stories about Grandma Ginger, they’re always fun and full of laughter.”

  “I think that’s because what Tillie told your mother and aunts is true,” Landon said. “Grief is sharp and terrible at first. Time moves forward, though. People move forward.”

  “Not twenty minutes ago you told me you would want to join me in the hereafter if I died before you,” I protested. “Now you’re saying you would move on and get over me?” I jerked my hands away. “Rub your own back.”

  “Don’t even think of picking a fight with me,” Landon warned, rolling so he faced me. He moved his hands to my back to help with the ache. I wanted to pull away, but it felt too good. “We don’t have buffers or help with anyone else. We’ve only got each other. Now is not the time to turn on one another.”

  “Have you already picked out the person you’d move on with?” I asked, ignoring his statement. “Is she blond? Does she look like a model?”

  “You’re unbelievable sometimes,” Landon muttered. “There are different types of hurt, Bay. A parent is supposed to die before their child. Your mother and aunts managed to move on because it’s the natural order of things.

  “Losing you at this point in time would not be the natural order of things,” he continued. “That’s the type of hurt that derails a life. I wouldn’t be able to move on from that.”

  “Well, that was a better answer,” I sniffed.

  “I should hope so. I’ve been practicing it in my head for two whole minutes.”

  I playfully smacked his arm as I turned my attention to the house. It had changed drastically since the last time we saw it during Tillie and Calvin’s wedding. It was bigger now, although nowhere near the size it would grow in the coming decades. We were outside again, which I was thankful for. Sneaking out of the house was something of a pain.

  “When do you think we are now?” Landon asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s before they built the Victorian,” I replied. “Although … .” I craned my
neck until my eyes landed on a pile of construction supplies close to the south side of the house. “It looks like they’re getting ready to start construction.”

  “So when would that be?”

  “I think it was constructed about a year after Grandma Ginger died,” I answered. “Aunt Tillie had full control of the house. Mom said she didn’t want to start construction until everyone was okay with it. She didn’t want to trample on anyone’s memories of Grandma Ginger.”

  “That sounds nothing like her.”

  “Don’t give her grief,” I chided, wagging a finger in his face. “You saw how good she was with everyone while they were mourning. Maybe she’s not as bad as I thought.”

  “I think you feel sympathy because you’re seeing everything from her point of view,” Landon countered. “If you were seeing things from everyone else’s point of view that might change.”

  “Maybe,” I conceded. “Still … she really loves all of them.”

  “Did you ever doubt that?” Landon asked, digging his fingers in and causing me to moan and squirm. “Do you like that? I still maintain I could make you happy and wake Aunt Tillie if you would just give in and let me be the maestro of love we both know I can be whenever I set my mind to it.”

  I wrenched an eye open, forcing myself out of my blissful state. “Maestro of love?”

  “I read that in one of the dirty books you and Thistle have around the guesthouse,” Landon replied. “It was obviously referring to me.”

  “Obviously,” I said dryly. “We should move closer to the house to see what’s going on.”

  “I can’t wait,” Landon said. “I’m expecting teenage shenanigans. Now you’ll have something to hold over your mother’s head when she says you’re being immature.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Landon shrugged. “It’s just a feeling,” he said. “Come on. Let’s sneak closer.”

  “I HATE YOU!”

  I shrank back into the bushes, smacking into Landon and causing him to hold me against his chest so neither of us would fall over. We’d managed to get close to the house, but a flurry of activity by the back door caused us to duck our heads.