Strange Folk, page 2
The vibration built, rippling through her as she continued down the hallway toward the sunshine spilling from the back windows.
When she stepped out the back door, the buzzing swelled into a primordial harmony.
The real magic of the property was the garden, which stretched from the back door to the woods, as thick with life as you’ve ever seen a patch of earth. There were rows and rows of vegetables, flowers, herbs, and plants that defied category. Countless stalks loomed and coiled and presented their autumn blooms to the sky with a prescient boldness, and the air fizzed with insects.
Some of her best memories as a child had been in this garden, wandering the rows with her grandmother and learning the names and uses of its wild inhabitants.
In a clearing to the right, an imposing figure clad in cream canvas and a wide, netted headdress stood wreathed in smoke, surrounded by shoulder-high white boxes that buzzed with the sweet, resonant music that had pulled Lee here. She watched for a while as the figure removed trays from the boxes coated in wax and dripping with honey, whispering to the bees.
The figure noticed her standing there and stepped away from the hives, pulling back their headpiece to reveal an older woman. Her hair had become the same shade as her skin, both bleached to a pale, dull pink.
Lee and Belva moved toward one another and embraced tightly. Lee inhaled dandelion heads and Dial soap through the canvas and relaxed against the familiar smells of her grandmother. A fleeting sense of safety washed over her. She hadn’t been held like this in so long that she’d forgotten what it could feel like. It was too much too quickly, and the buzz in her chest turned to a warm, sickening ache.
“Hell’s bells. I can’t believe you’re here.” Belva scanned her face, and Lee could feel the power of her observation penetrating beneath the skin. She instinctively took a step back.
“Let’s go inside. I wanna meet my great-grandbabies.”
* * *
After the introductions, Billy finished dinner, and the group gathered around the old oak table. The thick deer steaks were served with soup beans and cabbage cooked soft with bacon, and the food restored and fortified Lee like no meal had done in a long time.
The conversation was relaxed and irreverent, like the times she and the kids had when Cooper was away on business trips and they could be themselves. When Cliff spilled salt on the table, Belva showed them how to throw it from their right hand over their left shoulder to ward off bad luck, and she asked them specific, interesting questions about themselves—not the usual patronizing fodder. When Belva asked Cliff what her color was, he studied her for a moment and whispered, “Green glitter.” Belva looked impressed.
It was late by the time they’d cleared the table, and Meredith and Cliff were exhausted. Luann and Belva set them up on cots in a small room used to store Belva’s issues of National Geographic dating back decades. Lee helped Cliff settle in; she knew it was hard for him to sleep outside of his room back home. He seemed a little uncomfortable as his eyes roved fearfully over the walls, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He would adapt to its new colors and images.
As Lee went to leave, Meredith sat up on her cot. “Mom, this place is amazing. Your childhood must have been beautiful. Why didn’t you tell us?”
Lee closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I didn’t grow up in this house, honey.”
“What do you mean? Where did…?”
“My mom raised me. Redbud.”
“Oh, so that’s who that is. When did she die, again?”
“She’s not exactly dead.”
“What does that mean? You for sure told us she was dead.”
As terrible as it sounded, it was so much easier to think of her as gone. She wasn’t ready to explain this to her children. “We can talk about it later.”
“What about our grandpa? Is he still alive, too?”
Lee startled at the mention of her father. It had been a while since she’d thought of him. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Lee could feel the sharp edge of the words on her tongue.
Meredith’s skepticism dissolved into hurt, and Lee’s chest lurched. This was why she’d kept them separate from this part of her life; it only caused pain. “No, he’s been gone for a long time. Get some sleep.”
* * *
Lee was given the old living room sofa covered in a sheet and a wool afghan. She stayed up watching TV until everyone was asleep, and then she snuck out to the car, pulled a box of wine from the trunk, and sat on the front porch swing sipping from a coffee mug in the dark. She deserved a drink after all that driving.
There was no moon that night, and no lights for miles, so it felt like she was at the back of a cave, hunched over her wine, brooding over the past.
Lee recalled the last time she sat in the porch swing. She was nine years old, and she had just gotten her period. Her mother had dropped her off to be with Belva, and it had been the beginning of something. An initiation into a world of magic. The gift of a black book and an introduction into how she might wield the power of the land around them.
The very fact of being a witch wasn’t too impressive in Craw Valley; it was well known but rarely acknowledged that some in the community could get rid of warts with the touch of a hand, or blow out the fire in a burn. But the Bucks were notorious for their special talents and ability to perform powerful mountain magic, and Lee was next in their illustrious line.
Then her father died the next morning, and Mama cut them off from Belva, and just like that, her connection was severed. Her access to that world, that power, denied.
Lee now saw the magic for what it really was—a way for people with very few resources to feel they had some control over their hard, chaotic lives. Losing the magic hadn’t been a great loss; Lee had found school as another way of seizing power.
But losing Belva had been crushing.
She’d asked her mother over and over why she couldn’t see Belva anymore, but Redbud only told her that it wasn’t safe and refused to explain further. She told Lee that she was better than this place, and that one day she’d get out. That was what she needed to focus on. Forget Belva, and the magic, and Craw Valley, and even her.
Lee hadn’t only lost her father—she lost her mother, too. The woman who was once the vibrant center of her universe collapsed in on herself and went dark; she now floated around the house like a dead star. When Lee needed Belva most, when she was forced to take care of herself and hurt all alone, her mother took Belva away from her.
When Lee was around thirteen and things had gotten really bad with her mother, she snuck over to Belva’s cabin one afternoon. She pleaded with Belva to let her stay with her, but Belva drove her back immediately, telling her she couldn’t violate her mama’s wishes. When Lee asked why, she wouldn’t say, but Lee could see tears in her eyes. Belva’s mere presence had acted as a balm for her loneliness, but as she disappeared down the road, leaving her alone at that house, Lee felt the despair returning, threatening to pull her under.
Belva still loved her. She was the only person left who loved her. And Mama didn’t let her have that love.
She never forgave her for that.
After Lee went off to college, Belva wrote her letters, hoping they could have a relationship now that she was no longer under her mama’s roof. She told her if she ever needed anything, she’d be there for her. If she needed a place to stay for the holidays or summer break, she was welcome at the cabin.
Lee didn’t respond to a single letter; she’d vowed to cut all ties with Craw Valley and start over, and she couldn’t allow herself to get sucked back in. The bond she once shared with Belva felt remote to an eighteen-year-old Lee on her college campus hundreds of miles away. It wasn’t worth it.
But when Lee decided to leave Cooper, she needed a place to go. And Belva’s cabin was the only place that came to mind. After so long, the cabin would finally be her sanctuary.
A spark came from the corner of the porch, startling Lee. In that brief flash, she could see the large, round outline of Belva. She wondered how long she’d been there. A plume of herbed smoke snaked from her direction, and each time the cherry in her pipe illuminated, Lee could see a little more of her.
“Why didn’t you drink at dinner?”
“I know how you feel about it.”
“Better than sneaking out here like someone with a problem.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma Mama. I know I just sprang this on you. We won’t be here for long. Six months, tops.
“Now, don’t make it about that. You can stay here forever if you want. I’m trying to talk to you about how you are doing.” She took another pull from her pipe. “So what happened with the husband?”
“That’s not an easy answer.”
“I’m sure it ain’t, honey.”
Lee wasn’t ready to expose the specific disappointments of her life to Belva. She decided to change the subject. “How long has Luann lived here?”
“A few years. After her husband died.”
Belva had always offered a home to people in need when Lee was growing up, but she’d never known anyone to stay for this long. She’d also noticed there wasn’t a bed set up for Luann, but Lee waited for her to say more. It wasn’t their custom to pry beyond what people wanted to reveal about themselves, even among family.
“She’s a one-of-a-kind lady.” Belva smiled at her and took another puff, and Lee knew that was all she would say about it. The smoke smelled almost savory, like standing in a kitchen while chicken and vegetables cooked down into a rich broth. It wound around Lee and cocooned her in its warm safety.
“Did he hurt you? I can help.”
“No. I don’t need—”
“I’m happy to help. We can keep him from doing any more harm to you.”
“I said no.” Lee crossed her arms.
Belva ignored her frustration. “Has Meredith gotten her period yet? I’d have thought she would at her age, but I can sense she’s not open.”
“No. Don’t mention it to her. She’s sensitive about it. I made a doctor’s appointment in California, but we left before we could go.”
“No need for doctors. It’ll happen when she’s ready. You know, you don’t seem very open either. I bet you can’t even feel it.” She brought her foot down on the wood planks. When Lee didn’t respond, Belva took a deep breath. “You got any money, child?”
“Not very much. He controlled the money. I wasn’t good with it.” As Lee said it, she wondered at its logic. It was something she and Cooper had decided years ago, and she’d come to accept it as reality. But she was the one who knew how to live on so little. “There was a prenup. I’ll get half of what we made during our marriage, but he mostly volunteered for his family’s nonprofit, and I took care of the kids. We essentially lived off his parents and his trust fund. So there’s basically nothing that’s ours to split.” Lee sighed. “I’ll fight for the kids’ support. But I won’t fight the prenup. I don’t need his family’s money.”
“Damn straight. You don’t need him or his stuck-up family. We got everything we need right here.” Belva brought her foot down on the wood planks again.
“For now, I’ve got a credit card that we can live on for a bit. I can buy food and things for the kids. I have an interview for a long-term sub job at the high school tomorrow. The eleventh-grade history teacher is going on maternity leave.”
“Oh yes, Debbie’s daughter. She’s had a hard time with it, but she’ll deliver soon.” Belva put the pipe to her mouth and inhaled, letting out a thick stream of smoke. “If you give me your left sock, I can fix something up to help you get the job—not that you need it, but no harm in it, huh?”
Lee nearly laughed. The contrast between the bland suburban life she’d left behind and this absurd one she’d returned to was hard to believe. “No, thank you. I appreciate it, though.”
Belva huffed. “Suit yourself.” She looked back toward the house. “They’re good kids. Bucks through and through. I thought they might be different, growing up away from the land, but they’ve got it in them.”
Lee wasn’t sure how she felt about this. She’d spent most of her adult life trying to prevent them from being anything like the Bucks. She changed the subject.
“Have you seen Mama?” Lee asked.
Belva stared into the darkness beyond the porch. “No.”
“Any idea how she’s doing?” Lee couldn’t help but ask.
“No, honey. I think Billy still checks up on her sometimes. Don’t know why he does that to himself.” And I don’t know why you’d do it either. Lee could hear it in the spaces between the words.
Belva didn’t need to worry. Lee hadn’t spoken to her mother in fifteen years, and she didn’t plan to change that now.
There was so much more to say, but the air had cooled. The smoke of Belva’s pipe dissipated and left behind a feeling of vulnerability, then exhaustion.
“You want me to draw you a special bath? It’ll clean that spirit right up.”
Lee shook her head. As much as she yearned for comfort, it was a different thing to open herself up to it.
Belva sighed and went inside, and Lee took another sip.
* * *
It was still dark out when Lee awoke on the porch to the sound of screaming. Through the wine haze, she recognized Cliff’s howl.
She stumbled into their makeshift room and found Belva, Luann, and Meredith swatting at the ceiling with brooms and rolled National Geographics as a bat whirled around the fan. All the windows in the room were open, like deep, black portals to the great beyond.
Cliff was curled in a ball on his cot, so Lee wrapped herself around him, like adding clay to a smaller piece of clay. Her heart was equally crazed from waking with half the alcohol curdling in her system and the other half still burning brightly. Soon they were breathing calmly as one.
Luann caught the bat in a fishing net and released it through the window.
Belva asked Meredith why they’d been sleeping with the windows open, and she declared that they’d been shut when they went to sleep.
They asked Cliff if he knew what happened, and he wearily replied that he’d seen a figure cross the room and open the windows. It was too dark for him to see what the figure looked like; it was only a shadow.
This was not new territory for Cliff; he experienced night terrors every few weeks that felt so real they left him sweating and shaking. He always insisted they had, in fact, happened, but Lee and Cooper always reassured him they weren’t real. He was safe. Lately, Cliff had stopped fighting to be understood, and she wondered if he held things back from her now, expecting she wouldn’t believe him.
But Cliff had found a new audience in Belva. She looked deeply concerned and asked him detailed questions about the figure. When she was satisfied, she hung rosemary above the windows and placed a rabbit’s foot under Cliff’s mattress. Then she drew a cross over the door with white chalk and bid them goodnight.
Lee lay down with Cliff on the cot and tried to put her arms around him, but he turned away from her toward the wall, not touching, except for one foot wrapped around hers. She stared up at the ceiling, remembering the nights she’d spent in this room before everything fell apart.
“Are you awake?” Meredith whispered.
“Yes.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I like it here.”
“It’s only been four hours. Give it time.”
Meredith ignored her. “Belva is so cool. What was she doing with the rosemary and the rabbit’s foot?”
“It’s just an old mountain superstition.”
Meredith paused, and Lee could hear her thinking in the dark. “Why didn’t you tell me? About your family?”
“I had a hard time growing up.” A bit of that tender pain bubbled up again, and Lee pushed it down. “But I don’t like to dwell on it. I left it behind and started over, and I had you and Cliff, and you guys became my family.” She paused. “I never meant to keep anything from you. Believe me, none of it is good. You’re not missing out.”
“Okay.” Meredith paused. “I’m sorry it was hard for you.”
“That’s all right, honey. It was a long time ago.”
“I won’t make you relive your trauma for me.”
“Thanks.” Lee looked over at her shadowy outline. “Do you want me to scratch your back?”
“No. I think I can feel it pulling me under.”
“Me too. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Lee turned back to the ceiling and felt sleep no closer. When Belva put her to bed in this room as a child, they’d always said the same prayer. Lee said it to herself now, praying to lose consciousness.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Amen.
TWO
Lee woke to the pound of steel against wood and the sizzle of cast iron against flame. She felt hollowed and sour, and her damp skin prickled against the wool of the afghan. She’d moved to the couch sometime in the night.
She took a seat at the kitchen table, and Belva put a mug of tea and a plate of fried potatoes in front of her. Through the glazed windows she could see the distorted shapes of Luann splitting wood with an ax as her children looked on from a safe distance.
“Drink this.” Belva pointed to the tea.
“I’ll just take some Advil.”
“This is better. Spicewood. And chew on this.” She stuck a piece of bark into the tea like a cinnamon stick. “Willow.”
“I’ll just swing by the drugstore on the way to the school.”
