The Witches of Snyder Farms (The Wicked Garden Series) (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Irvine, 2010s

             
Gretchel and Eli spent the rest of the afternoon lying in bed, staring into each other’s eyes. Gretchel felt like she could happily stay that way forever. 

             
Eli was rubbing the silky sleeve of her dress, and gliding his fingertip over her skin when he finally broke the silence. “This dress seems familiar.”

             
Gretchel smiled. “I’ve had it for awhile.”

             
Eli thought for a moment, and then it registered. “You wore this at Pringle. The night we first made love. You put a spell on me when you wore this dress.”

             
“No, I didn’t,” she smiled. “It was magic, yes, but real love
is
magic.”

             
“I can’t believe you still have it.”

             
She kept grinning. “I like to hang on to things.”

             
“You got that right. Like secrets,” he whispered.

             
She sighed. “Look who’s talking. Give me time, Eli. Just a little more time. I’m grateful that you finally know that you’re Ame’s father—I’m glad that I don’t have to carry that guilt anymore—but I’m still processing everything I’ve learned over the past couple of days. And I
still
want to hear what your mother has to say about this prophecy of hers. I want to know why she cares so much about my family, and I need to know why she thinks that you’re going to leave me.”               

Eli was tired of this nonsense, too. In fact, he had been tired of it for about twenty years. He
grabbed his phone from the nightstand and dialed. Gretchel watched him curiously. “Dad.... Yeah. She’s been sleeping all afternoon…. Yes…. Can you be here in an hour? Yes, I can handle it, Dad. And tell Mom that I expect her to keep her word.” 

Eli pulled Gretchel close to him and nuzzled her neck as he said, “Now, that’s taken care of. It seems that we have one more hour to ourselves, so….”

Gretchel pulled away, a serious look on her face. “Be honest with me. Do you believe in the prophecy?”

Eli leaned against the headboard and sighed.
“My mother has only shown me a portion of the prophecy, the part she thinks pertains to you—”

“Which says…?” Gretchel asked pointedly.

“Please, my mother will be here soon, and she’s promised to tell you all about it. What I can tell you is that I can see how she might think that certain parts of the prophecy have already come to pass. But I also know that, whether or not she means to, she’s been manipulating events—and manipulating me.

“You have to believe me, Gretchel: The prophecy is my mother’s thing, not mine. I don’t give a shit about it, and I never have. The only thing I care about now is being with you and our daughter. Real love, right? I’ve found it, and I’m not giving it up for anyone or anything. That prophecy can go fuck itself.”

Gretchel laughed. Then she looked deep into Eli’s eyes again and knew that he was telling the truth.

She rested her head against his chest and let him hold her. She felt safe for the first time in days. The discovery that the women in her family were cursed explained a lot. Gretchel felt a paradoxical sort of relief in knowing that it wasn’t just her. At the same time, of course, she was terrified—for herself, but even more so for Ame. But Eli was willing to fight destiny, and that made her think that maybe she could, too.

After relaxing for a few moments, Gretchel started to rouse herself. “I should fix us all something to eat.”

Eli shook his head. “No, no, Baby Girl. You’re staying right here with me until my parents get here. I have a feeling that I’m going to be fighting for your attention once my father arrives. I’m keeping you all to myself while I can.”

“Give me a break, Eli. From what little you’ve told me about him, I’m sure your father’s a lovely man, but I don’t think that he’s going to distract me from you.” Gretchel ran her hand along Eli’s thigh, but he was unconvinced.

“I beg to differ. Strongly. You remember that my father grew up in the house on Pringle Street, right?”

Gretchel nodded.

“And you remember the statue of Pan in the garden?”

Gretchel nodded again, mystified.

“Well, my father maintains that statue is a portrait of his father. He’s a randy old goat, Gretchel. To my knowledge, he’s never actually cheated on my mother, but he loves the ladies and the ladies love him. You should have seen his face when he saw your photo.”

Eli thought for a moment.

“No, actually. I think I’m glad that you didn’t. Anyway, he’s also an unrepentant troublemaker. He likes to mess with people, Gretchel.”

“Whatever, Eli,” Gretchel said, rolling her eyes. “But I don’t really see what this has to do with throwing together some food for your parents.”

“Ah, yes. Well, Gretchel, the thing is that you just aren’t going to have time. Seeing you in this dress still casts a spell on me, and I’m going to have to insist that you stay right here—in this room, in this bed.” He kissed his way from her collarbone to her ear.

“I really must insist,” he whispered hoarsely, sending a shiver down her spine. “My hands are tied.”

“No, they aren’t,” Gretchel countered as she slid out of bed. Eli sighed, defeated. “But we can certainly fix that.”

∞

Ame was groggily fumbling
with toothpaste and toothbrush. Being an invalid wasn’t easy. She was almost done cleaning her teeth when she heard a soft knock at the front door and Suzy-Q going nuts outside.

Jesus
, she thought,
no one comes to see us in three months, and now the whole damn world is banging down the door.

             
She waited to see if someone else was going to deal with it.

Another knock.

Wearily, Ame shuffled into the living room and opened the door.

It was only when she tried to speak that she realized that her toothbrush was still in her mouth. Apparently, the painkillers hadn’t quite worn off.

“Oh, gah...,” she stammered, wiping white foam on her t-shirt. “Sorry ‘bout that. Come on in.”

Peter
looked her straight in the eye. Ame stared right back and didn’t quite understand what she saw. Her grandmother’s dog whined for her attention.

Ame patted
her on the head,
What do you know that I don’t, Suzy Q?

Diana watched the transfixed pair with equal parts fascination and irritation. She was fascinated because she felt like whatever it was she was seeing, it seemed to justify her work as a transpersonal psychologist—and maybe her dedication to the prophecy, too. She was irritated because she knew that whatever it was she was seeing, she had no control over it, she didn’t understand it, and she wasn’t a part of it. Finally, the irritation won out and Diana broke their trance.

“My dear,” she said, reaching for Ame’s good arm, “Are you sure you’re well enough for visitors?”

Ame looked down at her
, at her long-lost grandmother. Ame already knew how tiny she was, but now, in her opiate-enhanced state, she was able to see that Diana was also… powerful.

It was weird.

Ame shook her head. “Yeah. I’m fine. I just got back from Happy-Pill-Land, though, so you’ll have to bear with me.” She raised her toothbrush in a mock salute and Peter laughed.

Ame noticed that Eli’s father—
her grandfather!
—was carrying bags full of carryout—Chinese, by the looks of it. “You can take that food to the kitchen,” she said, gesturing toward the back of the cottage. “I’ll be back in a sec. I’m going to go change into something presentable.”

Ame started to go back up to her room, but then she turned around—with a bit of a wobble—to consider her grandparents again.

Diana looked pretty much how she had looked when Ame had met her. Impeccable hair, gray cashmere twin set, and sleek black pencil skirt. Ame didn’t care enough about fashion to be able to name the designers of Diana’s shoes and handbag, but she knew enough to know that they cost a lot—probably more than she made in a year.

Then there was Eli’s father…. He wore a heather-gray T-shirt with Snoopy in his Joe Cool avatar layered over a well-worn thermal. His cords were olive-green and threadbare. His shoes were Birkenstocks. Ame recognized Eli’s wild curls, but Peter also had a full beard—braided, and tied with a leather cord.

She stood on the threshold as the painkillers lingered, trying to figure out what “presentable” might mean in this situation.

Peter seemed to understand that Ame was paralyzed. “Love, may I use the bathroom?”

Peter’s words shook Ame out of her daze, but, when her eyes met his, she was enthralled again.

“Do I know you?” she asked faintly.

“Perhaps,” he replied.

“I feel like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be—here, talking to you. Have you ever had that feeling?”

“You’re much taller than I expected,” he said quietly.

Diana cleared her throat. “You need the bathroom, Peter?”

Ame roused herself. “Down the hall. You mind taking this with you?” Ame handed her grandfather her frothy, dripping toothbrush. Peter handed the bags full of take-out to his wife, accepted the dripping toothbrush with a slight bow, and headed into the cottage.

Still dazzled by his granddaughter, Peter opened the first door he came to.

Then he closed it again.

It had only been a moment, but it had been enough.

Long, long hair—so red it could have been a witch’s pot of blood—was piled loosely on top of a swanlike neck. Hair the color of a harvest moon, an autumn tree, a ripe beet, a pressed poppy flower.

Light and dark. Creation and death. Peter saw it all.

Her skin was like buttermilk. And the tattoo across her shoulder blades! The phoenix! It was mirrored in the painting that hung above the bed.

Peter also had time to notice that Eli’s hands were bound above his head, lashed to the headboard with a silk scarf.
Attaboy
, he thought with a little sigh of longing.

Eli heard what sounded like a sigh and looked past Gretchel.

It seemed that his parents had arrived, and that Peter was causing trouble already. 

“What was that?” Gretchel asked, turning toward the door as she heard it click shut.

Gretchel climbed off Eli and ducked under the quilt as the door opened again.

“
Eli’s parents are here,” Ame announced. She tried not to look into the room, but she couldn’t help noticing that Eli seemed to be tied to her mother’s bed. Still dulled by painkillers, she just stood there, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

             
“Hi, Ame-with-an-E,” Eli said. It was pretty much the only thing he could think of.

“Uh, your parents are here.” Ame, too, was at a loss for words.

“Right. Maybe you could tell them I’ll be out in a couple of minutes. I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

It took a moment before Eli’s words penetrated the fog in Ame’s head, and then she cracked up. Eli laughed, too.

Gretchel, who was
not
laughing, lobbed a shoe at her daughter.

Ame shut the door just in time.

∞

             
Ame had a goofy look on her face as her grandparents helped her settle into the storybook chair and tucked her in with an old afghan.

Eli was giggling when he got to the living room, and Ame started laughing, too, as soon as she saw him. Gretchel, how
ever, was scowling, and her face was almost as red as her hair.

As she surveyed the scene, Diana saw her husband give their son an approving nod, which made Eli’s laughter catch in his throat. For the second time in just a few minutes. Diana knew that she was missing something, and she didn’t like it.

Eli gave Ame a kiss on the forehead and she smiled. They had a lot to talk about, but that would come later. 

Gretchel had stopped in the doorway. Eli realized that she was waiting for an introduction. “Gretchel. Ame. You’ve already met my mother, of course, but I’d like to tell you something now: I want you both to know that I would have told you who I really am a long, long time ago if not for Diana’s insane control issues.”

Diana started to say something, but Peter shook his head gently. She had promised to back off, and she would need to keep that promise if she wanted to get to know her granddaughter.

Eli watched the interaction and paused to see how his mother would react. She gave him the death stare, but she didn’t say a word.