The Wicked Garden (12 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Irvine, 2010s

It rained the day of the funeral. Cold, freezing, sleety rain. The wake the day before had been almost unbearable. Troy was not only a fantastic car salesmen and manager of the biggest car dealership in the county, but also a school board member and a country club trustee. Everyone who was anyone in Irvine stood in line to shake hands with Troy’s widow. Ame kept threatening to puke on the shoes of the next person who told her what a great man her father had been.

But that hadn’t been the worst. Having to keep up an appropriate façade while surrounded by Troy’s family had been torture.

The funeral had been smaller, but now that it was done, her house was full of people: family, friends, neighbors, and enemies.

Gretchel stared blankly at the wall of her massive living room. It was white. For ten years, she had wanted to paint that wall a cheerful pale green—the color of the cottage’s living room—but she had never done it. Why hadn’t she? Because Troy told her it would decrease the value of their home if the interiors were anything other than white or beige.

“Gretchel...”

What was that color called? “Haven?” Yes, it was “Haven.”
She had liked the name as much as she had liked the color itself. She thought she still had that paint chip somewhere. Maybe it was in her closet, stashed away with all her other ideas and dreams. After everyone was gone, she was going to find that paint chip, and she was going to paint that wall green.

“Baby Girl?”

She kept staring at the blank wall, which housed a fireplace that had never been used—again, Troy was worried about resell value. Expensive scented candles—also pristine—and pictures of a family pretending to be happy rested on the spotless mantle. Those would go, too. Gretchel was going to toss the candles and take some
real
photos of her children. She was also going to build a damn fire, and she might just burn everything that reminded her of Troy.

“Gretchel? Gretchel!”

Or maybe I’ll just leave everything exactly the way it is and sell this place. I have never liked this house. Never.
Gretchel didn’t notice that everyone around her had gone silent.

“Somebody get her a glass of water.”

She moved her gaze from the white wall and looked around the room. The furniture could go along with the house. She looked at the brand new beige sectional. She didn’t even notice that it was crowded with people.

“Give her some Scotch,” Michelle said.

“No!” a group of voices called out in unison.

Gretchel felt a warm, thin arm wrap around her. It was her mama. Ella’s soft touch and gentle voice pulled her daughter out of her reverie. “Gretchel, I know you’re hurting, but Troy’s parents are preparing to leave. Bea wants to talk to you before they head back to Chicago.”

Gretchel's eyes focused, and she noticed the house full of people that she hadn’t seen just a few minutes before. Her mother-in-law was putting on her coat in the foyer.

“I’ll see them out.”

She could feel eyes on her as she walked toward the front door and grabbed an umbrella. Troy’s father, Edward, was already outside, and Bea didn’t stop moving. Gretchel followed her. Edward got in the car without saying goodbye, and Bea stopped halfway down the drive.

“We’ve taken care of the funeral expenses.” She cleared her throat and continued. “I’ll want Zachary for spring break. And after he finishes the school year, he’ll come stay with us.”

Gretchel stared at this woman who had hated her from the moment they’d first met. “What do you mean? Like for a week or two? Or for the whole summer?” Gretchel asked.             

“I mean he’ll be living with us from now on. He can play sports at a better high school, and we’ll see to it that he attends college, maybe eventually law school. Unlike his father, he’s got a good head on his shoulders. We’re not going to let him waste his potential like Troy did,” the older woman spat.

Gretchel stared at her in disbelief. “I don’t think so. Zach can stay with you for a week or even the summer, but you’re not taking my son away from me.”

“My dear, it’s not a good idea to pick a fight with a family full of lawyers.” Bea paused for a moment. “But you’ve never really been known for good judgment, have you?”

Gretchel was wide-eyed. “Why did you even come here? You never loved Troy. You never gave a good goddamn about him,” she fumed.

“Watch your tone with me, Gretchel.” There was steel in her voice.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you’re a blasphemous whore, and I won’t let you ruin my grandson like you ruined my son.” Bea’s thin lips stretched in a tight smile. “You can keep the girl. She’s ruined already.”

Gretchel stood, dumbstruck, as her mother-in-law slid into the waiting car. She watched as her father-in-law sped away.

This could
not
be happening. Bea had
not
just threatened to take her son away. Gretchel lingered in the driveway, trying to collect herself before she went back inside.

’Er hearts as black as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat!

Aye. And it be a dreich day to shoogle the lass.

Haud yer wheescht! She needs a guid shakin’.
This was the Woman in Wool.

Gretchel moaned.

Teddy, who had been observing Gretchel and Bea from the window, watched in horror as Gretchel started slapping at the side of her head. She looked like someone who had been at the beach all day, but Teddy knew it was voices—not sea water—his friend was trying to get out of her ears.

“Uh-oh,” he mumbled.

“What did that wicked old woman do now?” Ame asked, scooting in next to Teddy to look out the window.

“Maybe your mom’s finally going to get what she deserves,” Michelle whispered into Zach’s ear as she put an arm around him.

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Zach said, and pushed her away.

The mourners watched Gretchel come into the house. Only Teddy, standing close to the front door, saw the look in her eye. He’d seen that look before. “This is not going to be pretty,” he muttered.

Gretchel stopped for a moment and swung her head like a bear scenting danger. Her mad gaze landed on a display that Bea had set up before the funeral: Troy’s golf bag, leaning against an easel that held a blown-up version of the studio portrait that graced his business cards.

Gretchel seemed almost calm as she glided across the room. Nevertheless, Michelle pulled Zach and Ben toward her, and Teddy held Ame when she made a move to intercept her mother.

Standing in front of the golf bag, Gretchel considered several clubs before she made her choice: a driver. Nano-technology titanium face. Gold-plated. Imported from Japan. It cost more than she earned in three months when she was doing landscaping in college.

Gretchel hefted it in her hand, feeling its weight, and, once again, the crowd fell away. All she could see was her next target: a curio cabinet in the dining room. It was filled with religious figurines, all from Bea. They were ugly and insipid and uninspired, and Gretchel knew that Bea had known that she would hate them. They weren’t gifts. They were insults. Everyone cleared a path as Gretchel strode toward the cabinet.

“Gretchel, please calm down,” Ella begged.

“Give ‘em hell, Baby Girl!” Miss Poni cackled from the couch.

“Get back, everyone!” Gretchel’s brother, Marcus, yelled.

The neighbors and country-club chums, congregating around the tastefully nondescript dining-room table Troy had chosen, scampered away in fear as Gretchel strode toward them, driver in hand.

She paused before the curio cabinet, raised the club like a baseball bat, and swung with all her might. Then she swung again, and again. Cold cuts and casseroles were covered in a shower of broken glass, crystal fragments, and porcelain shards.

“Everybody out!” Ella ordered.

∞

Marcus, Teddy, and Cody finally managed to get a kicking, screaming, bleeding Gretchel up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Her sister-in-law, Cindy, ran after them, brandishing a bottle of pills. “Give her one of these.”

“What is it?” Teddy asked
.

“A sleeping pill.”

“No,” Teddy said.

“It’ll help her sleep. She has to sleep. She’s going to hurt somebody. She’s going to hurt herself.”

Teddy knew Gretchel had been pushed past her breaking point. With the amethyst gone, the wild woman was stirring, and with Michelle in the living room a catfight was inevitable. Gretchel would win, of course, and Michelle had surely earned it, but Teddy had to consider what was really best for Gretchel. Reluctantly, he took the pill from Cindy.

Gretchel took it from him without a struggle. Marcus excused himself to start cleaning up the mess—just like he’d always done after one of his sister’s outbursts—while his wife tried to clean the tiny cuts on Gretchel’s face and hands.

Ella held her daughter and rubbed her back while she sobbed.

“Honey, what did that horrible woman say to you?” Teddy knew all about Gretchel’s relationship with Troy’s parents.

Gretchel was crying so hard she could barely breathe. “She’s going… she’s… going... she’s going to take Zach. She’s going to take away my son.” Gretchel looked up and saw Cody standing in the doorway. His eyes were wide. “Cody, you can’t let it happen.”

“I won’t, Baby Girl. I promise I won’t.”

Teddy rushed toward him. “Don’t promise her anything, you spineless twat.” He pushed Cody out, shutting the door in his face.

Teddy took a deep breath before he spoke to Gretchel again. “Look, Baby Girl, Bea’s hurting, too. She’s lost her son. She’s not only lost a son, she lost a son she barely knew, a son she never really loved. She’s grieving, and she’s probably dealing with her own shadows. I don’t know what she said to you, but she can’t touch you. Be here, right now. You’re with people who love you.”

Ella nodded her head in agreement, but, truth be told, she was glad to see her daughter angry. It was a sign that there was still some fight left in her, that her spirit—though badly injured and frail—was still intact. It was a sign that the real Gretchel was coming back.

“Oh, Baby Girl. You are my daughter, and you’re a beautiful wild witch, and you’re free now.”

“And you’ll never, ever have to play golf again,” Teddy whispered in her ear. “Now just think the most splendid thought you can conjure, and hold yourself there until you fall asleep.”

Gretchel’s eyelids were already drooping. She turned on her side and nestled into her pillow as her mother covered her with the comforter. Teddy kissed the scar on her forehead, and left the room. Cindy went with him.

“Rest, Baby Girl.” Ella stroked her daughter’s back. Then she began to sing quietly.

Gu robh neart na cruinne leat

'S neart na grèine

'S neart an tairbh dhuibh

'S àirde leumas....

Gretchel listened to the words of the lullaby,
May you have the strength of the universe, and the strength of the sun…

As she drifted further into sleep though, it was another voice she heard. It was him. She could smell him; she could feel his arm around her, and his curls tickling the back of her ne
ck. She was back in Carbondale.

“Everything’s going to be okay. I promise,” he whispered as he pulled her closer. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as safe and loved as she did in his arms. Just as the sleeping pill overpowered her, she turned and looked into his aquamarine eyes. Then there was nothing. Just dreamless darkness.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Irvine, 2010s

The bath water was lukewarm. The lush bubbles that had covered Gretchel like a down duvet were reduced to tiny little swirls. She watched them circle around, creating a moving, aquatic version of Van Gogh’s
Starry Night
. It was soothing to watch. The swirls flowed calmly around each other, peacefully disassembling and reassembling as Gretchel’s breath moved across the water’s surface. They weren’t fighting the flow; they
were
the flow.

She felt herself being lulled, and she instinctively shook her head and rubbed her eyes, trying to chase away the grogginess and apathy that she had grown to hate. She was afraid of becoming numb again. It was much better to feel things fully—no matter the intensity—than to not feel anything at all. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t better, but it was truthful, and she was craving truth.

A knock at the bathroom door startled Gretchel from her reverie and destroyed the wispy remains of her bubble bath.

“Gretchel, it’s me. I’m coming in.” It was Teddy.

“Come on. I’ll dry you off.” Gretchel got up, and let her best friend envelope her in one of the enormous, Egyptian cotton bath sheets Troy had stocked the linen closet with. “You’re so beautiful, Gretchel. Sometimes I’d swear that you’re Aphrodite incarnate.”

“Cut the crap, Teddy,” she growled.

He stuck his tongue out at her, and then he spun her around to give her hair a good toweling.

“Wow,” he said. “I haven’t seen this thing in a long time. It’s still breathtaking, Gretchel.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your tattoo.”

Troy had told her that tattoos were trashy, and he had insisted that Gretchel keep hers covered in public. She had learned to not even think about it when she wasn’t buying clothes.

It was a phoenix, stretched across her shoulder blades—a replica of a painting she’d done a long time ago, a painting she’d left behind with so many other pieces of her past when she left the cottage.

“This is you, Gretchel, You’re going to rise above all of this. You’re going to soar from the ashes and be reborn.”

“I think I need to sit in the flames until I’m purified.”

Teddy exploded. “You’ve been through the flames already, Gretchel!” He looked at her scars, but he was also talking about the last seventeen years. “How much more purification do you need? How much more do you need to punish yourself?”

Gretchel flinched, and Teddy felt terrible. The last thing Gretchel needed in her life was another angry man. He wrapped her in terrycloth and guided her toward her bedroom.

Gretchel dropped the towel and lay down on the bed. Teddy squeezed out some lotion, warmed it in his hands, and rubbed it over her back. Now that Gretchel’s husband was dead—and now that she had given away the amulet that made her numb—he felt comfortable being honest with his friend for the first time in a long time.

“Troy didn’t just hate your tattoo because he thought it was tacky, Gretchel. He hated it because it was your artwork, and he didn’t want his wife to be an artist. He hated it because he wasn’t quite dumb enough to not know what it meant—the last thing he wanted was for you to rise up. And he hated it because he knew that Eli paid for it, and he knew that Eli was the man you should have married.”

              Teddy felt Gretchel shudder beneath his hands. “Say his name again,” she whispered.

Teddy hugged Gretchel against his chest, and whispered in her ear. “Eli.”

“I dreamt of him this morning.” Teddy eased Gretchel back onto the bed. “I was near a body of water, wearing a beautiful ivory dress embroidered with gold. I felt like a child—like Persephone, maybe. I was waiting by the edge of the water, and then I saw him. He appeared to me as Hermes, flying with those crazy winged shoes, showing me which way to go.”

Teddy smiled and kissed her shoulder. “You always called him Hermes.”

The bedroom door opened with a blast of cool air. “Who’s Hermes? Whoa! Jesus, Teddy, she’s been a widow for less than a week and you’re already switching teams? Only my mother could turn a man as gay as you are straight.”

“What do you need, Ame?” Gretchel tried to keep her voice mellow. She knew that Ame’s relationship with Troy had been horribly complicated, and she also knew that Ame might be grieving in ways she couldn’t understand.

“I just came in to tell you that Zach and I are back in our normal routine tonight. He has basketball practice. I’m going to work. We’ll see you later.” Ame kissed her mom on the cheek. “Hang in there, Mama. This is all happening for a reason. Dad’s karma finally came back around to kick his ass, but as far as we’re concerned, I know that things are going to be okay.” Ame turned as she was headed back out the door. “And, by the way, the grandwitches have arrived.”

Gretchel nodded, and slowly rose from the bed. Teddy marched her into her closet and helped her pick out clothes. She was finally awake,
and he wasn’t going to let her slip back into the oblivion.

∞

The Shea family was broke.

Gretchel had always left their finances to Troy
; as if she had a choice. It seemed like they were fine—better than fine. But it turned out that their comfortable life was just as illusory as Troy’s public persona.

Gretchel had known that their cars belonged to Sunset Auto. It just made sense that a luxury dealership’s top salesman and manager should drive something new and expensive, and the same went for his wife and daughter. And Gretchel had known that their house was mortgaged. She hadn’t known about the additional loans Troy had taken against the house, though, and she had no idea that the crash in the real estate market meant that they owed more than the house was worth. The allowance Troy gave Gretchel every month hadn’t changed, so she had no idea that they were basically living paycheck to paycheck. Savings account, retirement accounts, the kids’ college funds: all wiped out. Troy had left his wife and children with a modest life insurance settlement, negligible assets, and a pile of debt.

Gretchel went through the mess of paperwork in front of her one last time, even though she had given up hope of unearthing any buried treasure.
Thank the gods and goddesses we have the cottage
, she thought.
At least my kids aren’t homeless.

Her kids… Ame was mature enough to handle this, if only because she had grown up expecting disaster. Zach was going to have a much harder time adjusting to this new reality. Gretchel cursed Troy for doing this to them, and she cursed herself for letting her kids down yet again.

Everything was going to have to go.

Cindy was clearing out the gargantuan entertainment center.

“DVDs?” Cindy asked Gretchel.

“Take them home to Holly.”

“DVD player?”

“Sell.”

“Blu-Ray?”

“Sell.”

“What is this, a VCR?” Cindy seemed perplexed by the black box in one of the entertainment center’s cabinets.

“I’ll keep that.” Cindy gave Gretchel a funny look, and then put the VCR in the appropriate box.

“Do you want these old VHS tapes, too?” Cindy asked. Gretchel jumped up and quickly looked through the labels. Golf. There were six tapes from the 90s. All of them records of Troy trying to perfect his swing. Gretchel had seen all of them, more times than she liked to remember. She flung them across the room, one
at a time, smashing a photo of Troy with each throw. The video tape she was looking for had nothing to do with golf.

“Quit breaking stuff!” Teddy shouted from upstairs.

“I need to break stuff!” Gretchel shouted back.

“Baby Girl, just sit your ass down,” Miss Poni barked.

Gretchel glared at the old woman, and then plopped down onto the sofa. “I’m tired of this already,” she complained.

“You ungrateful little shit,” Miss Poni muttered, slamming her cane against the floor.

Marcus came in the house as the insult landed. “That’s enough, Grand Mama. Leave her alone.”

“You coddle her like she’s a goddamn fairy princess,” Miss Poni growled at her grandson.

Marcus slapped his ball cap on the sofa in frustration, but he held his tongue. It wasn’t smart to talk back to Miss Poni. Then he grabbed Gretchel’s hand and pulled her toward the stairs.

“Just use your best judgment for a while,” Marcus told the women in the living room as he led Gretchel up the stairs to her bedroom.

She crawled onto her bed and grabbed her old rag doll. She had slept with it since Troy’s death, just like she used to do before she married him. She held the doll close to her body, the hair of red yarn spilling every which way.

Marcus was entranced by the doll. He couldn’t look away. He was stuck in a time warp and was, for a moment, rendered speechless.

“What do you want, Marcus?”

The spell broken, Marcus turned to his little sister.

“What the hell’s going on with you, Baby Girl?”

She sighed. “I never thought I would be rid of him, Marcus.
Never
. And now that I am… I guess I just don’t know how to behave or act. I’m torn between the old Gretchel who was wild and the Gretchel who’s been a broken woman for so long. I don’t know who I am or who I want to be. I’m a mess. What do I do?”

“Well, first you slow down, and quit driving everyone nuts.”

She pursed her lips, and gave him the eye.

He stared at her without speaking, clearly thinking about what he was about to say next.

“I took the shotgun to the house on the hill and locked it in the gun safe. I have the only key,” he finally said, and Gretchel cringed. “I don’t know what the hell you were doing with the gun anyway, but you’re lucky Troy didn’t have the chance to turn it on you.”

“I’m lucky, Marcus? How have I
ever
been lucky? Do I look like I’m lucky now?”

“You’re lucky just to be alive, after everything you’ve been through. I swear to the gods, you’ve got more lives than all my farm cats put together,” he chided.

Her lip began to tremble, and Marcus sighed. He rubbed her arm. “Look, Baby Girl, Mama’s told me exactly what you’ve been going through. We’re all grateful to see the old Gretchel coming back, and we understand how hard coming back must be, but your mood swings are about to drive everyone over the edge. Mama said she heard you talking to the voices again, said you were mumbling crazy shit like you used to. Did a voice in your head tell you to get the shotgun?”

“No. It was just there —in my car.”

Marcus eyed her cautiously.

“I swear, Marcus! I have no idea how it got there.”

He was inclined to believe her. He didn’t like to think that there were malicious spirits roaming the property, trying to stir up trouble, but he knew Snyder Farms too well to dismiss the possibility.

“I notice your necklace is gone. Did the voices tell you to take it off?”

“No.”

“Did
anyone
tell you to take off the amethyst?”

“It wasn’t so much that I heard someone as much as it was a
feeling
that I heard someone,” she said quietly. “I just knew it was time.”

Marcus gave his sister another long, considering look.

“Well, it’s good to have you back, Gretchel, but you’ve got to keep it together. You’ve blocked out the voices before without help from booze, medication, or magic amulets, and you can do it again. Otherwise you’re going to end up back in the loony bin.”

“You wouldn’t let them take me, Marcus. You wouldn’t!” There was real panic in her voice.

He lifted his hands in defense. “Baby Girl, I didn’t want you to go the first time, but what the hell were we supposed to do? You’ve got to take care of yourself. Get yourself into therapy,” he said and eyed the rag doll again. “You need to start talking about things.”

She shook her head vehemently. “I’m not ready.”

“Not ready? It’s been over two decades, and that’s too long. You’ve got to start letting go.”

“She won’t let me.”

Marcus took a deep breath, trying to contain his frustration. He had mourned the loss of his wild-woman sister during her years with Troy, but he had forgotten that the old Gretchel wasn’t exactly an easy person to deal with. “Who won’t let you?”

“The Woman in Wool.”

Marcus rubbed his face hard with his hands. “So you’re seeing her again, too?”

“I saw her on New Year’s Eve.”

“Describe her to me, Gretchel. You’ve never told me what she looks like.”

Gretchel gripped the rag doll tightly. “She’s a young woman, but old.”

Marcus sighed. “How’s that, Gretchel?”

“Well, she’s young but her aura is old…
really
old. Her hair is a rat’s nest and her clothes…. She wears this horrible wool dress. It’s practically rotting off her. She looks like a beggar, a peasant. She’s barefoot and dirty, and she reeks of brackish water.”