At the Corner of King Street (30 page)

Loss enveloped me like a thick wool blanket, weighing down my body. It took tremendous effort to lean forward and kiss the baby on the cheek, push the diaper bag toward Janet, and leave the room. Conversations buzzed in the background but I refused to make sense of it.

Zeb caught up to me at the elevator. “Addie, we can fight this. This does not have to be the end of it.”

“I will always remain close so that if Carrie needs me I will be there.” I pushed the Down button.

“So you're going to walk away?”

I faced him. “What do you want me to do? A fight is not going to change anything. It's only going to add more stress into Janet's life and Carrie needs her healthy.”

“She can't do this,” Zeb said. “She can't.”

“Maybe she can.” I tried to inject hope into my tone but I missed the mark. “Maybe I haven't been fair to Janet.”

The doors opened and I walked inside. “Thanks for coming, Zeb. I really appreciate you trying.”

*   *   *

I barely remembered the drive back to the vineyard. The landscape blurred past me as I drove the country roads I knew so well. The first time I drove these roads, I felt broken and lost and now here I was again. Broken and lost and searching.

I pulled up to the vineyard sign and drove up the dirt road. Dust kicked up around my car.

When I parked in front of the tasting room, I got out of the car and stood for a moment. The place was so quiet. No cars. No honking horns. No baby crying. Too quiet. The noise of the city once was maddening, but now the silence was worse.

“Addie.”

Scott's voice sounded warm and welcoming and when I turned he was hurrying toward me. He wore a large grin on his face, and he easily wrapped me in his arms. I burrowed my face into the rough shirt that smelled of Scott and sunshine. I loved his smell. Loved his touch. Tears burned and fell. When I sobbed, he wrapped his arms tighter around me.

“It's going to be okay, baby.” His warm breath brushed the top of my head. “We'll be fine. I love you.”

I clung to his shirt, needing his strength. “I love you.”

He pressed his hands on my shoulders and leaned me back so that he could see my face. Carefully, he brushed away a tear trailing down my cheek. “Will you marry me?”

I blinked, struggled to shift my thoughts. “What?”

Grinning, he dug a small box from his pack pocket and held it in front of me. “Marry me.”

Hands trembling, I took the small box. Hinges creaked softly as I opened it. Inside was a single solitaire diamond that looked to be at least a carat, or maybe more. It caught the midday light and twinkled. “Scott.”

“I've been meaning to give that to you for weeks. I didn't realize how much I love and need you until you were gone.”

I stared at the ring. It sparkled in the light. So beautiful. A month ago it was my heart's desire. “It's beautiful.”

He took the box and removed the ring. Carefully, he slid it on the ring finger of my left hand. “I love you.”

I kissed him, wishing this moment was perfect and enough to wash away the loss that lingered like a specter. “I love you.”

He hugged me tight. “We're going to be happy.”

A hole gaped, open and raw, in my heart, but I believed it would heal. It had to. “I know.”

“And Janet and Carrie are going to be fine.” He smoothed his hand over my hair, tucking a loose strand behind my ear.

“You called Grace.” My words sounded distant, far off.

“I spoke to her about an hour ago. She told me what happened.” He smoothed his hands over my hair. “You're exhausted. You need sleep, and then in a few days you'll be back in your old routine. You'll be fine.”

“Right. I know. I need time.” The words echoed, hollow.

“I know you think you're the best choice for Carrie, but Janet is her mother. She'll be better off.”

“Better off?” The words tumbled out rough and jagged.

“A child belongs with her mother.” He spoke as if he were stating a fact I should know. “We both know that. That's why I hired the attorney for Janet.”

“What?” Replay. Rewind. “Say that again.”

“I hired the attorney. Honey, you're so loyal. You'd have ridden that situation to the end. It would have drained the hell out of you. I knew the best thing to do was end it quickly. You need to get back to your life.
Our
life.”

For a moment I wasn't sure what to say. “You decided.”

“I did. I did it because I knew you wouldn't.”

I glanced at the ring, winking bright in the sunlight. My dreams glittered back up at me. Had this been what the witch bottle always wanted for me? Had it known I belonged here and not Alexandria? Maybe it did know what was best for me.

Maybe.

Very slowly, I pulled the ring off. I placed it in the center of Scott's calloused palm and slowly closed his fingers over the diamond. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

His smile didn't dim. He was still so proud of his good deed. “Baby, what are you talking about?”

I cleared the emotion tightening my throat. “You shouldn't have interfered.”

The smile dimmed only a little. “Your sister interfered in our lives. She was tearing us apart.”

“No, we were doing that. We reached a fork in the road and realized how different we are.”

He spoke to me like he were breaking down a complex problem for a small child. “I love you. You love me.”

“I sure thought I loved you.” Where was the old certainty?

“Thought?” he said, offended. “What does that mean?”

I squirmed free of his touch, annoyed by the weight of his hands on my shoulders. “I've got to go.”

“Where?” he challenged. “You can't leave like this, Addie.”

The place suddenly felt too small, the air too stale. “I can't stay here right now. I can't talk to you about this.”

“Look, you're tired.” His was the tone someone used with a child. “Your emotions are all out of whack. When's the last time you slept a solid eight hours?”

“It's been a really long time. In fact, I can't remember. And maybe sleep will do it for me. Maybe I'll lay my head down and wake up and realize that your helping Janet take the baby from me was a good thing.”

His eyes darkened with a knowing that was absolute to him. “You're going to thank me.”

Dr. Goodwin petitioned the courts to have Faith examined for signs of witchcraft. Mistress Smyth asked me to join her in this arduous task. I hesitated, but Mistress Smyth told me this was my duty. Mistress Smyth said Faith's evil magic killed Talbot and likely her husband, the captain. Two good men destroyed by black magic.

When I arrived at the Smyths house for the examination, Faith was there, wide-eyed and pale. Her hair framed her face in a wild, fiery halo. It took two men to restrain Faith so that we could examine her.

When she was told her children would be taken if she didn't comply, she ceased fighting and agreed to inspection. We found no signs of a witch. When Faith dressed, her face was hard and angry and my fears of her were renewed.

Without a word, I knew she levied a terrible curse on all of us.

W
hen I drove away from the vineyard, I realized I didn't have any place to go. I had no real friends outside of the vineyard or the salvage yard, and since I knew I'd not return to the vineyard, I followed the pull of Old Town and wound along the country roads, highways, and finally the interstate. By the time I parked in the warehouse alley, it was seven in the evening. The day's temperatures rose above ninety and still, even with the sun dipping lower, the air was thick with heat. A warm breeze from the river brushed my skin in welcome.

Keys in hand, I grabbed my bag and climbed the steps to the apartment. Grace sat in her rocker by the fireplace, staring out the window through the trees toward the river.

“I didn't think you'd come back,” she said without turning.

“I went to the vineyard.” I set my bag down. “It didn't feel right anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Too quiet.”

“It's too quiet here. I keep thinking I have to look in on the baby but the cradle is empty. Feels wrong.”

I sat on the couch, absently fingering my keys and the fob, now warm with energy. “Have you heard from Janet?”

Grace faced me. “It's only been a half day.”

“I thought she might have questions.”

When she shrugged her shoulders looked thinner, more fragile. “She should know how to care for a baby. She took care of Eric.”

“Yes.” After a lifetime resenting being needed, I now missed it. “Never thought about it, but she does have more experience.”

Restless, I rose and moved toward the mantel and looked at the collection of papers. My gaze settled on the old witch bottle. “Margaret returned it.”

“Yes. About lunchtime. She x-rayed it. Was excited to tell you about something, but I told her you were gone.”

“Did she say what it was?”

“That fellow she knew in Scotland found records of our ancestor, Sarah Goodwin. Turns out she was born a Shire.”

“A Shire. Like Faith.”

“This guy found an old church Bible. Listed Sarah and several other siblings born to an Owen Shire. Also listed a bastard child, Faith. And in the court records there was a Faith Shire condemned of witchcraft and sent to the Americas.”

I traced the outline of the bottle with my finger. “Faith and Sarah were sisters?”

“Looks like it.”

“One sister came in bondage and the other as a bride. It makes sense that Sarah would fear Faith. Sarah marries a doctor who is trying to make his mark in the world and she discovers her sister the witch is at her doorstep.”

“Seems you or I don't have a lock on sisterly relationships.”

I tried to peer through the bottle's dark glass so I could glimpse the contents. “She didn't tell you about the bottle?”

“I didn't ask, and she didn't offer. What's in the bottle really doesn't matter.”

I picked up the bottle and held it up to the evening light streaming through the front window. It remained stubbornly dark, refusing to let me peek inside. Figures. Shut out again. I set it back on the mantel but for whatever reason did not settle it squarely on the wooden surface. As I released the neck, the bottle quickly tipped and plunged forward. I lunged to catch it, but it hit the brick hearth and in a blink shattered in a dozen pieces.

I knelt down, my hands hovering over the shards. “Shit! I'm so sorry, Grace.”

Grace looked up. “It's okay, honey. It's an old bottle.”

“It's an antique.” I plucked at the broken pieces, the four nails, a coin, a lock of hair tied in a faded red ribbon, and a rolled up piece of paper. “Shit.” My hands hovered over the glass. “I'm sorry.”

Grace pushed out of her chair. “Stop saying you're sorry. Let me get a bag, and we can bundle it up. Margaret will be excited to see the contents.”

I sat back on my haunches wondering if I could do anything right. “Margaret will be upset it's broken. Its value lies in the fact that it was unbroken.”

“It's a bottle, Addie.” She handed me a grocery store plastic bag. “It's a bottle.”

Carefully, I loaded all the glass pieces into the bag. I reached for the scroll, fingering the delicate paper.

Grace handed me a wad of paper towels and I wiped up the liquid on the floor. “Stop fretting.”

Tears choked in my throat and I thought at that moment I'd break. “Grace, I'd like to stay here for a while.”

“Really?” No missing the hope.

“Yeah.” I spoke with more authority. “Think I can make something out of this business again.”

She rested a fist on her bony hip. “What about Scotty-boy? Sounds to me like he enjoyed having you run his vineyard.”

Scotty-boy. If it weren't all so sad, I'd have laughed. “We're on a very, very long break.”

“Why?” She sounded almost happy.

“He hired Janet's attorney.”

Grace grunted. “Ass.”

I fingered the edges of the scroll's brittle paper. “I'd like to think he thought he was doing me a favor.”

She muttered an oath. “I'd like to think dogs can fly, but that don't make it true. What's the note say?”

Frowning, I unfurled the scroll. Delicate script writing covered the page. I read the note out loud. “
Protect me from Faith—my sister is my curse.”

“Faith,” Grace said. “The witch?”

“If Sarah Goodwin and Faith were sisters, it makes sense this would be her bottle.”

Grace shook her head. “Seems amazing that my mother found that bottle and it has just been sitting here for decades.”

“Protect me from Faith—my sister is my curse,” I repeated.

Grace shook her head. “No truer words have been written.”

As I picked up the remains of the bottle's contents and lowered them in the bag, steady footsteps sounded on the staircase and I turned to see Zeb standing in the doorway. Grace took the bag and made an excuse about checking inventory. She was gone before either of us could comment.

“I thought you left,” he said.

“I did for a while. Thanks, again,” I said to Zeb.

“I wish it were enough.” He crossed the room, stopping feet short from me. “Where did you go?”

“The vineyard.” I tried to smile and not look as lost as I felt. “Scott proposed.”

A frown furrowed his brow. “He did?”

“I said yes.” I held up my naked left hand. “And then I said no.”

“Why?”

“He paid for Janet's attorney. He was proud of himself.”

“Dumbass.”

“You sound like Grace.”

He grunted approval. “She's a smart woman.”

I wanted to think Scott wasn't evil. “I really think he wanted to do what he thought was best.”

Zeb shook his head. “He had no right.”

“I've no right to throw stones.” I dropped the walls I'd built so carefully around me. “I've made choices that didn't include him.”

“You were taking care of your sister's child.”

I shook my head. “It's more complicated. See, I had my tubes tied ten years ago. It was right after Mom killed herself. I swore I'd never risk passing the curse on to a child. Scott said over and over he wasn't ready for children. I should have told him about the surgery but I thought I'd be enough.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I've no idea. I've spent a life running from this place, my past, and that secret. I figured going forward, I'm putting it all out on the table.”

His frown didn't soften. “That's a hell of a choice to make.”

“It is. And maybe one day I'll regret it, but not now and likely not tomorrow. It was the right thing to do for me.”

A heavy silence hovered between us. “What are you going to do now?”

“I'm going to stay for a while. Help Grace. This place is perfect for a cast-off. And that about describes me right now.”

He hovered close enough that I could feel the energy radiating from his body, but he made no move to touch me. “You're not a cast-off, Addie.”

I looked up at him. “Okay, maybe not a cast-off, but I'm in need of rescuing. A second chance.”

He shook his head. “You are the rescuer. You don't need anyone's help. You've proved that thousands of times.”

We stood close, barely inches apart, and the energy hummed between us. It pulled. Beckoned us to touch. But neither of us moved.

He shoved out a ragged breath and jabbed his thumb toward the door. “I've got to go pick up Eric. He's at my mom's. I just wanted to check in with you.”

Sliding my hands into my pockets so that I wouldn't be tempted to touch him, I nodded. “I'm fine. Thanks for checking.”

He lingered an extra beat. “I'm glad you're staying.”

With so much lost, it didn't make sense that I felt okay with being back. “Me, too.”

He turned and walked from the house. I stood listening to the steady thud of his feet on the hardwood and the creak of the door hinges as it closed.

I swore I'd never return to the salvage yard or embrace family. And I did. And now I was alone.

That should have been reason enough to drink or at least cry. And maybe I would soon. But I needed sleep. I needed to wake up clear-eyed and rested.

Maybe I would be glad Scott intervened, but not likely. I thought
I loved him and he loved me, but neither of us trusted that love with the truth.

In my room, I kicked off my shoes and stared at the portrait of the stern woman. As always, she glared as I sat on my bed. “Save it, old lady. I'm not in the mood.”

My muscles ached and my head throbbed as I slowly lowered myself to the pillow. I kicked off my shoes and raised my feet onto the bed. Years of overplanning, and now I had no idea what was next.