The Witches of Dark Root: Daughters of Dark Root: Book One (The Daughters of Dark Root) (24 page)

“You only have five weeks to use it,” he said.

He had told me this a dozen times already. The ticket was good only until November first. That was more than enough time for me to come up with an escape plan.

“I could use a hand around the cafe until you decide to leave,” he continued, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “If you are interested in making a few bucks.”

“Doing what, pray tell?”

“Waiting tables and cleaning toilets.”

“I can’t think of anything more horrible.”

“Suit yourself, but you’re going to want a little cash for your trip, I presume.”

“Can’t you just pay me for other things?” I batted my eyelashes playfully.

“I can’t afford you,” he said, giving me a sideways grin. “I’m already paying Eve.”

I punched him in the arm and threatened to tell her. He said he was kidding and I forgave him, though a small part of me was upset by his remark, and not because he had basically called my sister a member of the world’s oldest profession.

A song came on the radio, something about a honky-tonk princess in pink cowboy boots. Shane turned up the volume. He tapped his index fingers against the steering wheel and sang along, missing a few words and making up others. The wind caught his hair, shoving it back away from his face, and he looked very much like the goofy kid I used to make fun of.

He caught me looking and laughed.

“I need a shave,” he said, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “I’ve been letting myself go the last few months. Hardly even work out anymore.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Dark Root is hardly known for its beautiful people.” It wasn’t until I left town that I realized round and lumpy wasn’t the standard of beauty. I looked down at my belly––which was protruding even more thanks to Aunt Dora’s homemade muffins––and sucked it in self-consciously.

He must have noticed.

“Works both ways,” he said, turning onto the dirt road that would take me to Sister House.

Merry had phoned earlier and asked if I could help her out. Mother was sleeping, she assured me, knocked out on drugs that the nurse had given her, and the cats had all been corralled. I didn’t want to go, but knowing that I now possessed the bus pass and would have Merry to myself for a few hours made it tolerable.

“I don’t have to be thin for Dark Root,” I answered him. “But if I want to fit in, in Seattle, I better hit the gym.”

“Seattle? What’s in Seattle?” Shane rolled up his window. The drops had become globs making visibility difficult, even though the wipers were running at full speed. He slowed his pace as we sloshed through puddles and piles and bumps.

“I just always wanted to go to Seattle,” I responded, turning down the radio. “Birthplace of grunge.”

“Uh-huh.” The tone of his voice let me know he didn’t believe me. “You were grunge way before it was popular. You don’t need to go to Seattle for that.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Take it how you like it.”

I felt the need to explain. “Dark Root is like the Roach Motel, Shane. You check in and you don’t check out. If I don’t get away, and soon, I will be trapped here forever. Like...” I looked at him and stopped.

“Yes? Go on. Trapped like what?”

“Like my mother.”

“I see. And has it ever occurred to you that people like
your mother
choose to stay here. That they aren’t trapped at all?”

“Might as well be.” I slumped against the passenger door. I didn’t like the way this conversation had turned.

“So, will you stay in Seattle? Is that where you will make your new home?”

I shrugged. It might be my first stop. It might be my only stop. It wasn’t like I had somewhere else to go. Unless...

Woodhaven.

I had dreamed of it the night after playing the piano with Paul, in those wee hours before dawn. In my dream I was with Michael. We were young again, kissing, laughing, hanging out. I recalled his chest, his arms, his legs, and his breath on my cheek. True, he eventually morphed into Paul, but it started out as Michael. I woke that morning in a sweat.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing up the image of Michael and Leah in her bedroom together. It worked. I was back to hating him again.

Still...maybe he had learned?

Maybe he felt that same aching separation that I felt and realized what a stupid fucking jerk he had been. Maybe he was remorseful and had changed. People changed. That’s what Oprah and Dr. Phil said. My heart harbored hope. The rest of me did not. I squelched the thought as Shane made a sudden swerve to avoid an especially deep pit in the road.

“No one wants you to leave,” he said softly.

“No one’s asking me to stay either,” I replied.

Neither Eve nor Merry had expressed any interest in my continued presence these last few days. In fact, Eve watched me so intently, especially when I was in the company of Paul, that I was sure she would have bought me the ticket herself if she thought it would get rid of me sooner. And Merry had been so busy at Sister House, caring for Mother, that she hardly noticed I existed.

“I would like you to stay.” Shane turned his head to look at me, his gaze making me uncomfortable. I turned the radio volume back up, pretending to listen to a country song I had never heard. “...Just keep that in mind.”

We pulled into the driveway of Sister House. June Bug sat on the front porch swing, oblivious to our presence as she inspected something in her cupped hands.

Shane unbuckled and turned towards me, switching off the radio. “I know you probably think I’ve been a bit insensitive. I haven’t asked you how you’ve been. That night at the bar must have scared the hell out of you. I just didn’t know what to say. Back where I’m from, a man would never do anything like that. We are raised to respect women.”

I inhaled, eager to change the subject, but he raised a hand to stop me.

“I wish I had been there sooner to stop those assholes!” He banged a fist against the dashboard and the cab of the truck shook.

It startled me, the depth of his anger. He didn’t seem like the kind that got angry easily, but something told me when he did, someone had better watch out.

“I am grateful for what you did.” I stopped, then decided to ask him the question that had come into my head a dozen times since the assault. “How did you manage to pull both of them off me?”

Shane shrugged, a smile lighting his face. “Adrenaline, I guess.”

“Well, it would have been much worse if you hadn’t...” I didn’t need to finish. We both knew what would have happened. I patted him on the knee. “You’re a good egg,” I teased.

He gave me a crooked smile and started the engine back up.

“And now back to our regularly scheduled program,” I said, nodding to the white Victorian home that loomed before us. A shutter, hanging on one hinge, smacked against the side of the house as the wind caught it. June Bug jumped but continued her studies.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this.” Shane scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve been reading about dementia. It’s a sad, sad thing and no family deserves this. The best thing you can do is to be yourself and try to keep some emotional distance.”

“You read a lot,” I said, opening the passenger door.
 

One of my feet fell into a deep puddle and I immediately withdrew it, searching the ground for a safe spot. I found a small mound a few inches from the truck and stepped onto it.

“I guess I do read quite a bit,” Shane responded. “A habit I learned from Uncle Joe. Every summer when I’d come to visit he’d hand me a pile of books with a warning that if I didn’t finish them by the end of August, I wasn’t allowed back the next year. And he had ways of making sure I read them. I never had to do a book report in school as thoroughly as the ones Uncle Joe put me through.”
 

Shane’s face relaxed at the memory and I smiled. Uncle Joe had the largest private collection of books I had ever seen. Ruth Anne had dragged me to his house on many occasions just to peruse his library.

“I better run,” Shane said. “Dip Stix opens for dinner in two hours and I’ve got a hot stove to slave over. Be safe.”

He nodded and drove away.
 

I waited until he had completely disappeared before I turned towards Sister House. The shutter continued to flap against the wall, the window reminding me of a one-winged bat. I reached inside my skirt pocket, running my fingers over the ridge of my bus ticket. I was going to tell Merry today, when the time was right.

“Aunt Maggie!” June Bug called to me as I made my way up the path towards the porch. She dropped whatever critter she had been holding to wrap her arms around my legs. “I missed you so much!” She smelled like rose petals, baby powder, and dirt.
 

“I missed you too, June Bug,” I said, lifting her up and carrying her inside.

And I meant it.

The house still smelled of urine, but it was getting better. Merry had been hard at work, vacuuming the floors, dusting the furniture, and caring for the cats who were now housed in small kennels. They meowed and hissed at their restriction, but they looked healthier; their eyes and noses were now mucus-free and their coats shiny and groomed.

“How did you do all this in just a week?” I asked, torn between feelings of guilt and awe as I wandered into the living room.
 

It was bright and airy inside. The newspapers and boxes had been cleared out and there was no longer any fur on the sofas.

“Just call me the miracle worker,” Merry laughed, pulling her long blonde hair into a low ponytail.
 

Her manner was more relaxed, easier than I had seen since I had come to Dark Root. I sat across from her on the floor, helping her sort through a bin of photos she had discovered beneath several layers of Captain Crunch boxes.
 

“You always could work miracles.” I found a scrap of newspaper in the bin and put it in one of the three piles she had created: keep, dump, and give away. So far the dump pile was winning by a landslide. Or more accurately, a landfill-slide.

“I’m just good at organizing. It’s my gift.”

“You have many gifts.” I touched the foot of the Maggie cat who was kenneled beside me, poking her paws out. She, more so than any of the other cats, seemed especially upset about her newfound captivity. “Hey, remember when we were kids and you kept every single test you ever took?”

“Yes, I suppose I have a bit of a hoarding personality, too.” Merry pursed her lips thoughtfully as she reached back into the bin. “Why do you bring that up?”

“Oh, just thought I’d let you know how grateful Eve and I were for that. Saved us many hours of actual studying,” I winked.

Merry laughed, throwing her head back. The light from the window caught her eyes, turning them a cerulean blue.

“You weren’t fooling anyone,” she said. “I knew you two couldn’t keep your paws off of my work. But that was one of the few things you were actually united in, so how could I put an end to it?”

I was a bit disappointed that she knew. It was one thing to confess, it was another to be caught. I wondered how many other things she knew. I didn’t want to think about it, so I changed the subject back to our original conversation.

“You’ve done a great job, Merry. No one else could have done so much in so little time.”