The Witch of Roan Mountain (4 page)

Maeve remembered why she’d been so ready to leave the county in the first place Gossip traveled fast and very few people in these parts were tactful. “Not fired exactly.”

“It’s okay, honey. We’ve all had rough patches. Can I bring you some lunch?”

“Egg salad on white toast?”

“I figured. I’ll bring you some tea, too.”

Maeve hadn’t set foot in Bertie’s in more than a decade and Hazel still remembered her order. Unbelievable. Maeve opened her notebook and flipped through her scant notes. There was really nothing tied directly to Delphine. There were some ghost stories that were similar but none of them mentioned the dress. She needed to find some better sources.

When Hazel brought her food, Maeve asked, “Do you remember the legend of Delphine? The witch?”

Hazel shivered. “I sure do, honey. Scares me to this day. I can’t even say her name without feeling sick to my stomach.”

“Would you tell me the story?”

The waitress shook her head. “I can’t stand to even think about it but Virgil , one of our regulars who fancies himself as an amateur historian, would love to tell it. I’ll send him over here.”

Ask and you shall receive.

The man who shuffled over to her table looked to be on the backside of a hundred. “You Granny Holcombe’s grandbaby?” he asked, sliding into the booth.

“Yes, sir,” Maeve answered.

He nodded. “You favor her. And your mama, too.”

Maeve knew the old man meant no harm but the last person on earth she wanted to be compared to was her mother. The woman had been a beauty but she never took one single responsibility seriously. Including her only child.

“Do you know anything about Delphine?”

He nodded and looked up at her. “I know that one well. Too well, maybe.”

“Can you give me the details?”

“I can do better than that. I can give you directions to where she’s buried.”

Maeve, unsure as to how that would help, said, “Okay, but before I go to the cemetery, I’d like to know more about her.”

“After you go visit her, I’ll tell you the story.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

Virgil shook his head. “The time isn’t right.” He slid the notebook across the table and took her pen. On a clean page, in spidery script, he wrote the directions. Beneath it, he scribbled his telephone number. “Call me after you visit.”

It’s easier to move at night. Something about the moon, the stars, the quiet.

The night they found us, the moon was as bright as day. I heard them coming, their feet crashing on the dry leaves. There was no time to hide. No time to run. Nowhere to run.

When Bessie and her brother, Calvin, stepped into the clearing, I knew Jenks and me weren’t leaving alive. A cold gleam shone in her eyes. In one hand she held a butcher knife, its sharp edge reflecting the white-blue glow of the moon.

Bessie was small and stout. Her face was round and her eyes were set deep. Her brother was a raw man dressed in overalls, his face marked with a scar trailing from one ear all the way to his jawbone. In one hand, he held a rifle.

Jenks stepped between us and said, “Now, Bessie, there’s no reason to do this. Wasn’t nothing happening out here. We was just talking.”

She glared at him. “This time, maybe. How about all them other times?”

Jenks raised his hands in surrender. “Ain’t nothing happening tonight and never again.”

I looked over his shoulder, watched her face, tried to decide if I should run into the trees. Take my chances with the bears. But even if I escaped tonight, where would I go tomorrow?

I was so tired. Tired of running. Tired of loving someone I could never have. I wanted to just collapse onto the bed of leaves and fade away.

“I give you my word, Bessie. Ain’t nothing ever going to happen between me and her again.”

Bessie shook her head and turned to her brother, Calvin. “I told you he wouldn’t deny it.”

Calvin nodded and placed the rifle up to his shoulder. “Want me to shoot him?”

Fear, like a shard of ice, pierced me.

“No,” Bessie said. “She’s going to do the shooting.”

She pointed her index finger straight at me.

*****

“I’m sorry,” Campbell said. He’d felt like a total heel after he’d left the hospital and had time, while he was on patrol, to think about his behavior.

He’d seen Maeve leaving Bertie’s and he’d fallen in step with her as she walked back to the hospital where her car was parked. He’d behaved like a child and he wanted to make amends. She crossed her arms and stared at him.

“I know you love Granny and that you’ll do the best for her.”

Maeve nodded. “Okay.”

“Can we just start over?”

She raised one eyebrow.

“There’s no reason for us to be at odds when we both want the same thing.”

“I agree.”

“So we can start over?”

“Only if you’ll buy me a mug of apple cider.”

“Still your favorite, huh?”

Maeve nodded. “It doesn’t taste the same in Atlanta.”

They walked past the hospital to the small market at the end of the block. In addition to carrying local fruits, vegetables and honey, they made the best apple cider in the world. North Carolina apples were the finest to be had anywhere.

After ordering two mugs, Campbell took them to a small table in the back and pulled out a chair for Maeve. “They’ll bring them to the table,” he said. “I wish every argument was this easy to solve.”

“Me and you both,” she agreed.

After they got their mugs, he asked, “What’s it like to back here after such a long time?”

“It’s weird. Everything mostly looks the same but it feels different. I see it with new eyes. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the place.”

“Think you’ll ever come back for good?”

She shook her head. “Too hard to find a good-paying job.”

He figured that would be her answer but he’d felt compelled to ask. Deep in his heart, he always hoped she’d see that she belonged here, at home.

“Would you ever leave?” she asked.

“No way. I love this place. I was born here and I’ll be buried here.”

“You belong here.”

So did Maeve, she just didn’t know it.

“Ever wonder what might have happened if you’d stayed?”

The look in her eyes told him she’d wondered that a lot. Just like him.

“Maybe this is your chance to give it another try,” he offered.

After they finished the cider, Campbell suggested a walk through town before they headed to the hospital to check on Granny. When they reached the park, they sat under one of the picnic shelters and sat down at one of the tables across from each other.

“Thanks for all you’ve done for Granny while I’ve been away. I really appreciate it.”

“I didn’t just do it for you, although that was part of it. I did because I love her. She’s a wonderful woman who always makes me feel like I’m her own grandson.”

Maeve placed her hand on top of Campbell’s. “I’m sorry about this morning, too. I was being stubborn and bull-headed.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he quipped sarcastically.

“I’m not stubborn.”

“Don’t forget that I’ve known you since kindergarten.”

“Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe a little.”

When he looked into her eyes, he saw a flicker of the old flame that used to burn between them. He was just as attracted to her as he’d been years ago. It didn’t take much to imagine the way she’d looked in prom dress, the way her body had felt against his when they’d made love on top of Jane’s Bald, a mountain devoid of trees.

He rose and walked around the table and sat beside her, never letting go of her hand. “Your bull-headedness never deterred me. I was always the kind of man who could handle that in a woman.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she said. “It’s a wonder your eyes aren’t brown.”

He leaned in, unable to help himself, and kissed her. Her lips were soft and plump and she still tasted the same as he remembered. He wished the kiss would never end.

When he pulled away, her eyes were wide. “I, we shouldn’t. . . ”

“It was a simple kiss, Maeve. Not a wedding proposal.”

“I know, it’s just that—”

“Don’t take it too seriously. I know you’re not staying.”

*****

The next morning, satisfied that Granny was doing well and had plenty of yarn to keep her fingers busy, Maeve headed out to find where Delphine was buried.

She was still trying to sort out what that kiss was about. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, it felt good, right. She’d felt tingles and sparks in places she’d nearly forgotten. The last thing she needed was some kind of entanglement with Campbell. She was here to decompress and spend time with Granny.

The directions to the cemetery weren’t very clear. By the time she found what she thought was the right road, she’d made at least three U-turns. The road was gravel and went straight up into the mountains. She cringed every time a stray piece of rock tinged the undercarriage of her Volvo.

When she’d left the cabin, she’d had no idea the trip to the graveyard would take so long. She’d have to hurry. A big storm, expected to bring several inches of rain, was rolling in later this evening. Maeve didn’t want to be stuck up here in bad weather and the clouds to the west were already looking ominous.

She wound the car through switchback after switchback until she finally reached the end. The road dead ended at a rusty iron gate. Perpetually in shade, it looked like something out of a scary movie. Maeve shoved the car into park and set the brake. She grabbed her notebook and a pencil.

The gate opened with a creak. A shiver ran up her spine but she tried to ignore it. If she was going to get to the bottom of this mystery, she had to visit Delphine.

She wished she’d asked someone to come along. Not that she really had anyone to ask. Although she didn’t scare easily, this was creepy. She walked slowly toward the gate and it opened slowly with a creak as if inviting her inside.

Maeve took several steps backward toward the safety of her car. Waited for the gate to stop moving. After several deep breaths, she took a few steps forward. The dense trees overhead cast perpetual shade across the whole cemetery adding to the feeling of dread building in her stomach.

She had to do this. Somehow she knew Delphine would never let her rest until she solved the mystery.

Maeve took a deep breath and several determined steps forward. She paused briefly at the gate but then pushed ahead. According to the notes Virgil made, the gravestone was located at the very far end of the cemetery. She charged ahead finally reaching the last row of headstones.

They were so old and mossy, it was nearly impossible to read the engravings on any of them. She sure as hell didn’t want to stay here long enough to make rubbings of each stone. She leaned in closer, moving down the row until she reached one in the very middle. Maeve checked Virgil’s notes.

She ripped a page from the notebook and took the pencil from behind her ear. Turning it on its side, she rubbed it against the headstone until numbers and letters appeared.

Delphine Rose Whitson

Born 1843-Hanged 1867

Witch

Maeve sank down on the ground. Sadness washed over her. Even in death, she was branded. The woman she’d seen on Roan Mountain didn’t sound like a witch, feel like a witch, not that Maeve knew what witches looked or sounded like but she’d always assumed they’d be haggard and scary, not beautiful and broken. Hanged? What crime could a twenty-four year old woman have committed that would have taken her to the gallows?

She had to get to the bottom of this story. It was bothering her. Like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch, there was something here she needed to find.

The wind was picking up and Maeve knew she should go but she while she was here, she wanted to make note of who was buried close to her. She used the pencil to make rubbings of the other graves in the same row.

None of them had the same last name. Weird.

Surely Delphine had family. Something was tickling the back of her brain, something that should be obvious but it wouldn’t come to the front.

The first drop of rain hit her just as she tucked the papers into her notebook.

She started walking from the back of the cemetery toward the iron gate, the rain intensifying with each step. By the time she reached the fence, she knew she was in trouble. The rain came down in cold sheets. Maeve was soaked to the bone.

The road going back to civilization was going to be a bitch. Maybe she’d wait out the rain, see if it slacked off before she tried the drive.

She tucked her notebook under her shirt, trying to protect it, but her shirt was getting soaked. Her hair clung the side of her face in clumps and she was pretty sure she’d never be able to salvage her Keen shoes.

She’d made a rookie mistake and parked her car so that it pointed up the mountain instead of down. It was beneath the cemetery and mud was washing against her tires already. The small wash between Maeve and the Volvo was quickly becoming a river. She had no idea how she was even going to cross it, much less free her car from the mud so she could get back to the main road.

Maeve kept praying the rain would let up, but instead, it intensified.

After thirty minutes, she could take no more. Soaked to the bone, she pulled her cellphone from the pocket of her skirt and turned it on. It hadn’t worked in days because there was never any signal up here, but it was worth a try.

It wasn’t like she had another option.

After it powered up, she held it up in the air and tried to find the best signal. She took several steps backward, checking the bars in the top right hand corner of her screen.

She nearly jumped up and down when she got one measly bar. Maeve dialed 911 and crossed her fingers, hoping the call would go through before it dropped.

“Avery County 911. What’s your emergency?”

Maeve breathed a sigh of relief and talked fast. “I’m stuck at the cemetery at the top of Sugar Mountain Road.” It was hard to hear the woman’s voice over the steady rhythm of the rain. “Can you send someone?”

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Maeve McMahan.”

She could’ve sworn the woman giggled before saying, “We’ll dispatch...” The connection went dead.

Maeve crossed her fingers that someone would get to her soon. She was hoping it wasn’t Campbell. She’d seen enough of him for a while.

*****

Campbell tore up the mountain. After slamming his Ford Explorer into four-wheel drive, he drove as fast as he could toward the graveyard at the top. He steered around the ruts and washouts, navigating the road like the SUV was an extension of his body. He slid back and forth in the slick mud, cursed and pressed the gas down harder.

He’d finished his shift and was on his way to the hospital to check on Granny when dispatch called him. The only other deputy on duty was all the way across the county and the dispatcher had coded this as a priority call. He’d hopped into his private vehicle which was much better than his Charger for these conditions.