The Witch of Roan Mountain (7 page)

By the time the sun spilled light across the patchwork quilt covering her, Maeve was tired of tossing and turning. After a cup of coffee on the porch, she took a shower and dressed. Campbell pulled into the yard a little past eight.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” Maeve said, sliding into the passenger seat. It took all the self-control she had not to lean across the arm rest and kiss him.

He nodded. “I know this story means a lot to you.”

“I wish I could explain it. I really do but I can’t. Ever since the day I saw her, she’s been on my mind constantly. I have to figure out what happened to her.”

“Maybe she’s the reason you came back here.”

“What do you mean?” She pushed her sunglasses onto the crown of her head and looked across the cab of the car. Campbell clenched his jaw.

“You know the whole thing bothers me, right?”

“You’ve made that pretty obvious.”

“Ever wonder why?”

“I just figured that you didn’t like ghosts.”

“It’s more than that. A lot more than that. Lots of folks think I’m a descendent of Delphine and Jenks.”

Maeve’s mouth flew open. Nothing could’ve shocked her more. “There’s no mention of them having a child. Not that I’ve found.”

“Did you read the jail records?”

She shook her head. “I only had time to read the newspaper articles.” She hoped to get back to the museum later today after she talked with Virgil and checked on Granny. “What’s in them?” She couldn’t read Campbell’s expression behind his dark sunglasses.

“Delphine was taken into custody and convicted in less than two months. They waited more than seven months after that to hang her.”

Maeve flipped to the timeline she’d drawn. He was right. That was a long time, especially in the nineteenth century. “She was pregnant when they arrested her?”

Campbell nodded.

“What happened to the baby?”

“The records never mention it but my granddaddy always said she gave the baby to our family to raise. She would be my one of my great grandmothers.”

The dream came back to her, clear as a movie. Now she understood why Campbell’s wrist had been tied to Maeve’s but why was she tied to Campbell? She decided not to tell him about the dream. Not yet. Not until she got the truth.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I don’t like being connected to her. No one wants to be the great grandson of a witch.”

Bessie had the ear of Preacher Veneable soon after the sickness started. All it took was a story about how she’d seen me out in the woods, surrounded by candles, chanting the names of the folks who had the French Pox over and over until sweat was pouring off me and I was cackling like some half-crazed banshee. According to her, the reason I wasn’t sick was because I was a witch who called upon the devil to sicken others. She’d seen it. Witnessed it.

A complete and total lie but one the preacher wanted to believe.

It helped her case that I never had been one to go to church so there was no one to stop her.

By the next Sunday, the word “witch” was floating in the air like ash from a bonfire.

When Bessie got a sore on her mouth, I knew my fate was sealed. The next time Jenks came to the cabin, I told him I was scared, worried. I was afraid things would get out of hand and I’d be on the losing end.

He held me in his arms and convinced me that it would blow over. With winter coming, few people would be able to get to church regularly and the rumors would die. I wanted to believe him.

I didn’t go to town often but when I did, no one would meet my eye when they passed me on the street. I was used to being alone so that didn’t bother me as much as it would’ve bothered some people. I kept my head down, bought only the things I needed and retreated to my cabin.

Jenks was the only thing I needed.

I thought love would be enough to save both of us.

*****

Maeve parked the Explorer on the street and walked into Bertie’s. She’d called Virgil and arranged to meet with him. He sat at a back booth.

“Morning, Virgil,” she said, sliding into the booth across from him.

He grunted in response.

“I have some questions.” She opened her notebook to the page in the back where she’d scribbled a list of things she couldn’t figure out.

“Did you go to the grave?”

She nodded. “I also went to the county museum.”

“When I finish my breakfast, I’ll talk to you about it. Can’t tell a story on an empty stomach.”

Hazel came by and took her order and filled her coffee cup. Virgil ate with the speed of a slug. By the time he popped the last bite of sausage in his mouth, she was ready to scream.

“Ask away,” he said, wiping the corner of his mouth with a paper napkin.

“Did the syphilis come back with the war veterans?”

The old man shrugged. “I expect it did. It was highly contagious and spread through a lot of the regiments.”

“Did she have a child with Jenks?”

Virgil took a sip of his coffee and looked out the window onto the street. “That’s always been part of the legend. No one knows for sure.”

“Is Campbell Hyatt a descendant?”

He nodded. “If they had a baby, if that part’s true, Campbell would be a great-great-great-great grandson.”

A chill ran up Maeve’s spine. “But why would she kill the man she loved and the father of her unborn child?” It was the one, central question. The one that had to be answered before anything of the other pieces would fit into place. So far, Maeve saw no motive. If anything, Bessie was the one with motive to kill Delphine.

“She wouldn’t,” Virgil said, mirroring Maeve’s thoughts. “The one thing I know for sure, after years of hearing version after version of the story, is that Delphine loved Jenks, probably too much for her own good.”

I am innocent of murder.

The short sentence reverberated through Maeve’s body, repeating itself over and over. “Then who killed him?”

“That’s the important question to answer.” With that, Virgil rose to his feet and placed a ten dollar bill on the Formica table. “I expect you’ll know soon enough.”

*****

By the time Campbell got to the hospital, Maeve had Granny Holcolmbe dressed and ready to go back to the cabin.

“Don’t you look pretty as a picture,” he said to Granny, giving only a curt nod to Maeve. He pretended not to notice her but he could be blindfolded and still know when she was in the room.

The older woman batted her eyelashes at him and grinned. “I do my best.”

Maeve rolled her eyes. “Y’all are intolerable.”

“You’re the only one complaining,” Granny said. “They’re letting me go home. Can you drive us?”

“I sure can. I thought maybe you’d decided to stay.”

Granny swatted at him. “You, hush.”

While Campbell pulled the car around to the front entrance, a nurse brought a wheelchair into the room and helped Granny get into it. Maeve covered her legs with a knitted blanket and they walked toward the lobby.

He was waiting and lifted Granny into the front seat of his Explorer. “You comfortable?” he asked, tucking the blanket tightly around her legs. “It’s a long ride.”

Maeve stood to the side and marveled how such a large man could be so gentle. It was one of the things she’d always loved about him.

“I’m set,” Granny said. “Ready to get home.”

Maeve hopped into the backseat with Granny’s things. The small scooter that would allow her to get around until the cast came off was propped on the other seat. Campbell drove slowly, taking the curves at a lazy pace. By the time they got the cabin, it was full-dark.

“Let me get the lights on,” Campbell said. “And then I’ll come get you.”

Maeve breathed a sigh of relief. With everything she’d seen and heard in the past few days, she was more than a little spooked. She didn’t like going into the house alone, especially after dark. Although she’d only seen Delphine once, she’d felt her many times, not to mention seen the long-dead woman’s handwriting in her notebook.

The porch light cast a yellow glow across the yard. It was cozy, homey and Maeve realized how much she’d missed this place. It was, and would always be, home.

After Campbell helped Granny to her favorite chair, he got a fire started and banished the chill. “Y’all alright if I go?”

“We’re fine, honey. Thanks again for bringing us home. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything you need, you call me,” he said, looking between Maeve and Granny. He winked at Maeve when he thought Granny wasn’t looking.

When Campbell left, the cabin seemed empty. Without his large presence, Granny and Maeve were quiet for a long time both of them focused on the reds and yellows of the fire in the grate.

“Need anything? Maybe a cup of tea?” Maeve asked.

“That would be very nice,” Granny said. “Chamomile to soothe my nerves.”

Maeve brewed two cups of the tea and handed one to Granny. “I put a spoonful of honey in it, just the way you like.”

Granny took a long sip and smiled. “Tastes just like summer. Did you learn anything more about Delphine?”

Maeve pulled her notebook from her tote bag and flipped to the most recent page of notes. “Campbell might be one of her descendants.”

Granny’s eyes went wide. “She had a child?”

Maeve nodded. “It sure looks that way. Reading between the lines, I’d guess she was pregnant with Jenks’ baby before he was killed. They held off on hanging her until she delivered the baby.”

The old woman took a sip of her tea and looked into the fire. “Does Campbell know?”

“He’s known for a long time. That’s why he doesn’t want anyone to mention her name.”

“It’s a powerful thing. To be branded before you’re even born. To be related to someone who’s already brought shame on your name.”

Maeve certainly understood that. She’d based her whole life, every single choice down to what color she painted her toenails, on being the opposite of her mother. Growing up in a tiny place, where not only everyone knew each other but were most likely related, a mother who was a drug-addict and petty thief was the kiss of death.

As a teenager, Maeve had studied harder, practiced more, and dressed more modestly so that no one would ever compare her to her mom.

“You know a little about how that feels don’t you, honey?” Granny had always been a fantastic mind-reader.

Maeve nodded. “I do. It’s hard to grow up that way, but with Campbell, it’s generations back. No one could possibly care.”

“It’s like a mustard stain on a shirt. Even if you scrub it out, every time you put on that shirt, you look for the stain. You think everyone is staring at the shadow of where it used to be.”

“So you think it’s all in his head?”

Granny nodded and placed her mug on the side table. “And yours, too.”

“What do you mean?”

Granny reached over and took Maeve’s hand in hers. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone but yourself.”

“It’s almost as if he’s scared that if I find out for sure that he’s related to her, he won’t be a good person anymore.”

“That boy has a lot on his mind these days. You’ll have to cut him some slack.”

Maeve shrugged. “Seems to me his life is pretty stress-free.”

Granny chuckled. “It’s anything but. The love of his life is back after years of him wishing for her. That’s enough to make anyone crazy.”

“I’m not the love of his life. We just dated in high school.”

“Who are you kidding? I may be old, but I was young once. I see the way the two of you look at each other. My leg is broken. My eyes work just fine.”

“It would never work between us.”

“Keep telling yourself that. The two of you were meant for each other but you’re the only two who can’t see it.”

Maeve had loved Campbell once. Now, she wasn’t so sure. There was plenty of heat. No doubt about that but her life was in Atlanta now. She wasn’t the same girl who’d left Avery County ten years ago. She’d changed into a career-driven woman who was focused on living an independent life. Maybe it wasn’t exactly fulfilling but she could change that if she could just find a thread to grab onto.

She’d gone to Clemson to prove she was smart enough to get a college education. She’d gone to law school at Wake Forest to prove she could make something of herself. While she loved the research and the planning of a case, she didn’t love being a lawyer. Not really.

“Sometimes I wish I’d just stayed here. Maybe gone to college someplace closer.”

“You had to get out of here. I understood that.”

“I should’ve come back sooner.”

“You had to test your own mettle. I didn’t get to be eighty-five years old without knowing a thing or two about how people work. You needed to do something on your own. You did. Now you can decide what you really want in your life.”

What do I really want?

Maeve imagined going back to Atlanta. Parking her shiny Volvo into a space in a large parking garage every morning, walking into a sleek, modern office in a tailored suit, and going to lunch at places that served things like hummus and Sriracha. It wasn’t an appealing image.

Then she imagined living here, in Avery County, again. She had enough money to buy or build a small house. She could be close to Granny. Close to Campbell. Enjoying the seasons, the clean mountain air. Growing a small garden.

But what would she do when her savings ran out?

Maeve sighed.

“You don’t have to decide everything tonight. You can work on it tomorrow,” Granny said.

“I just like knowing where I’m going.”

“Sometimes, in order to find a new road, you need to be lost for a while.”

*****

“Want to go get the Volvo? It’s my day off,” Campbell said. He’d called the landline and spent fifteen minutes talking to Granny before he asked for Maeve. “The ground is finally dry enough.”

Maeve and Granny had been stuck in the cabin for several days. The weather had been clear and cold with a brisk wind that blew around the sides of the cabin with a fierce howl. Maeve was itching to get to town and do some more research. They were out of toilet paper, too.

“Sure. I’d love that but I hate to leave Granny alone for too long, and I really need to do some shopping.”

“I’ll take you to get the car and then I’ll stay with her while you go to town.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you soon.”

After she hung up, Maeve changed into jeans and a fleece jacket. She tried to ignore the excited buzz humming through her body. She hadn’t seen Campbell since the night Granny came home from the hospital and she missed him.

He pulled up at half past ten and walked into the house without even knocking. “How you feeling today, Granny?”

Granny used her scooter to move from the kitchen, where she was attempting to make jelly a second time, into the living room. “Feeling much better,” she said. “You want coffee?”

“I’d love a cup,” he said. “It feels more like November than October out there.”

Maeve handed the wooden spoon she was using to stir the sugary mixture to Granny and grabbed a mug from one of the hooks under the cabinets and poured him a cup. “Black?” she asked.