The Sins of Our Fathers, page 14
My hand drifted down the side of his head until my fingertips were wet and I knew they were covered in blood. Xavier, wake up. You’re too big. I need your help. Again. Xavier turned his head toward me in silence.
“You’re awake,” I whispered.
He stiffened in my arms and sat up next to me. Xavier disappeared on his own as a winter breeze rushed between us.
Where do you live? I can help you get home.
“Did you see me?” His voice was rough and filled with accusation. “Did anyone?”
“No. I don’t think so.” It meant so much to him. “When I found you, you were visible, but I hid you.” I crawled over to him until I found his thigh and rested my hand there.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t want me to know who you really are.”
“You already know, Helene.”
I reached up and pulled him to me in a hug. I wanted him to trust me, to feel the same way about me as I did about him. “Can you fly?” I whispered and then changed to speaking with my mind. If not, we can walk. I can call someone to come pick us up.
I’m fine.
I don’t believe you. I knew he was bleeding. I wasn’t even sure what had happened, but the sounds of the collisions would haunt me in my bed later.
A light guffaw rang in my ears. “I completely believe you.” He stood, but I stayed on the ground, trying to make sense of Xavier and his secrets and the way I felt about him. “Helene, thank you,” he said as if he knew how lost I was and was trying to bring me back.
“They said you could see them.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know if he had even more powers than I already knew of.
“No. I can’t. I just knew where they were.” He reached out his hand and pulled me up beside him. “I really wish you could find a way to stay out of this. You can’t defeat them.”
“They’ve left us no choice but to fight.”
He sighed. “Well, I wasn’t raised to hit a girl, but that one had it coming.” He laughed a little, and I felt him flinch.
I don’t think you’re okay to fly.
I’m fine. My wounds heal quickly.
I wish I could say the same.
You’ve come a long way since the night I found you in the woods. I wasn’t sure I had, and the thought of returning to my house in Auburn left me cold. I wish I could take you home with me.
Me, too.
I’m sorry.
The back door opened and a man and woman walked into the yard. I moved closer to Xavier, and he took my hand in his.
“See, there’s no light back here. I don’t know what happened,” the woman said as she and the man looked at every light on the back of the house.
“There was a cat screeching back here, too. Sounded like something awful was happening.”
The man held a beer in his hand and a disinterested look on his face.
“Well, are you going to fix it? It’s Woodstown by Candlelight. We need light!”
“Light a candle,” he said and carried his beer back inside.
She followed him, still nipping about the lights. I could hear her switch to his general lack of accomplishment and his overriding laziness. The light in the kitchen turned off right before a door slammed inside the house.
We should go, I thought.
I’ll follow you home.
That isn’t necessary.
Even if it isn’t, I’m going to.
Xavier flew with me back to Auburn and left me when we passed the firehouse. Loneliness saturated me until I landed in my driveway. My family still moved about the kitchen. Isaiah was leaning on the counter, laughing at something Sloane was saying. Time stood still when you were with your childhood friends. I could never feel alone in Auburn.
JUST AS LOVIE pulled out of the driveway with all four of the girls in her minivan, hot tea sloshed over the side of my cup and burnt my hand. I extended my arm in front of me to reach the table without dropping my mug. Waving my hand in the air, I raced over to the sink to run cold water on it. It dripped down my wrist almost to my elbow and finally found the bottom of the sink.
“It’s like you barely pay attention to anything anymore,” Sloane said as if she were commenting on an impending rain that was moving across the fields. “Where have you been going . . . alone?”
Lying would never work with Sloane, and I wanted her to know the truth. It just wasn’t my secret to tell.
“Last night, on the Woodstown by Candlelight tour, a witch named Andrea Ford spotted me in a group of people.”
“I know her.” Sloane was searching her mind for the face that went with the name. I’d give her this information first because it belonged to her, too. Any attack against our coven was ours to share.
“She noticed my shadow when I wasn’t visible to have one.”
“Wow. She’s good.”
“Yes, and a bit violent.”
“What did she do?”
I remembered the blow. “Hit me with something. We flew all over the yard. She collided with an out building, and her friend helped her get away.”
“Why didn’t you call us? Did she know it was you?”
“No. I never said a word. I only knew it was her because she was on the tour with her friends before she spotted me.”
“That’s crazy.”
“From what I hear, the Virago consider Woodstown by Candlelight their night to play.”
Sloane leaned down, caught my eye, and forced me to face her before she asked, “Where did you hear that?”
“I am exhausted,” Gisel said as she walked into the kitchen.
Sloane released me from her scrutiny, which I would have never survived without telling her everything.
“Has Gwen asked for a car?” I asked Gisel. Eight women in this house. We had one minivan and Gisel’s BMW. We’d spent our whole lives trying to give the appearance of normal, and most teenage girls wanted cars more than anything. It was their freedom, but for a bunch of witches, a car wasn’t necessary.
“No, but this morning she asked if we could go home for Christmas.” I turned back to Gisel with no idea what to say. “She wants me and her to at least sleep there for Christmas Eve.”
I’d tried to avoid the subject of Gisel’s marriage ending as much as possible. “What did you say?”
“I told her I’d think about it. Her father and I are fine with this arrangement.”
“I think that must make it easier to forget Gwen’s thoughts.” I was treading lightly. Maybe not lightly enough. “If you were at each other’s throats, you’d be ultra-aware of Gwen and Ike’s feelings, but maybe, because this seems so right to the both of you, you forget how wrong it must seem to them.”
“It’s true. Isaiah and I have come to terms with what we’ve missed out on the last twenty years, but for our kids, we were always their parents. We had no lives before they were born. I don’t think Gwen has any interest in us having a life now that she’s grown.”
“I don’t envy you navigating this.” When Owen died, there was no one else to coordinate or include. We just were, and Ever and I clung to each other because of it.
“Ruby doesn’t remember what Christmas was like with her father,” Sloane said without another word of reference. The statement made Gisel pause with her cup almost to her lips.
“Do you think I should go back? Spend one last Christmas with Isaiah and my children?”
“It probably has a lot to do with the house, too. That’s the only place Gwen has ever known Christmas. It was her home her entire life. The corner you put the tree in, the holly dish towels, the garland around the front door.” I thought of all the little things my own mother had done that felt like Christmas. I tried to emulate so much of her for Ever. “She’s probably afraid it won’t be Christmas unless it’s the same as it’s always been.”
Gisel’s lips pursed into a fine line as she thought. She inhaled deeply, settled into her chair, exhaled, and said, “I think we should go home for Christmas.”
“Are you sure?”
“We have the rest of our lives together. There’s no need to force these changes down everyone’s throats. I think Isaiah will like it, too.” She looked around the room, and then her focus settled on me. “Maybe.”
“Well, you are truly welcome here. Anytime. Even Christmas. Do what’s best for your children. It won’t be long before they’ll have their own homes to wake up in Christmas morning. We’ll miss these days.”
“I’m already starting to.” Gisel turned toward the scraping of the bush’s branches across the kitchen window. “It’s been a year.” She didn’t have to say since what. This week was the girls’ holiday chorus concert, which meant it’d been a year since the first time we’d spoken in twenty years. A year since her powers were fully restored.
“It flew. Just like everyone says it does.”
She turned back to me. “Life dragged without you guys, but the time has slipped through my fingertips since I saw you last year. I’m still grateful.”
“I am, too.”
“We all are,” Sloane said as she moved to the computer desk, dragged the computer mouse around in a circle, and checked the Virago’s Instagram account. While she waited for Facebook to load, she said, “You know, there are tons of other sites. Snapchat, Reddit, Twitter. We could be going in the wrong direction.”
“We can’t chase them down on the internet. What makes them turn on each other will have to happen in real life.”
“I know. I left a candy bar on Simone’s husband’s car with a note that said, “You inspire me.” She leaned back in the computer chair and lifted her feet to the corner of the desk. “I also sent a letter to the school commending Lisa’s son on helping little old me cross the street yesterday in hopes he’d be considered for the civics award that Tanya is banking on her kid getting. I signed it with my mother’s name.” Sloane rolled a pencil between her fingers. “I snuck into the wrestling match and when Donna’s husband put down his phone, I scrolled through and liked one of Amanda’s posts.”
“Just one?”
“You can’t be too obvious. One like says I’m watching, a bunch says either “I’m desperate,” or “My toddler got his hands on my phone.”
“Who’s Amanda again? I’m having trouble keeping them all straight.”
“She’s the one who just moved to Upper Pittsgrove. Oh, I also told John Wilde that I liked his new haircut in front of his wife. I still can’t believe she’s a witch, though. She has no . . .” Sloane searched for the word. “Style,” she said with great disgust. “She must have been born into the Virago or something.”
“Sloane, you’re crazy,” I told her. “This whole town is going to be like Melrose Place.”
“I’m just spreading the love. If the Virago can’t handle it.” She held her hands up in the air as testimony to her innocence.
Ever ate dinner in Alloway the first three nights Ike was home from college. According to her, they decorated the tree, sat by the fire, and even ice-skated on the shallow portion of the lake. With every detail, memories of my young love flooded back. I avoided Isaiah at all costs. If I heard his voice downstairs or caught a glimpse of his truck pulling in, I was suddenly in the shower or taking a nap. Even if I’d taken one just a few hours before or wasn’t tired.
Ever took the helm from Lovie on our own tree decorating. The girls, plus Ike, crossed the street to Mr. Crawford’s tree farm and picked out what they referred to as “the one.” Ike and Isaiah carried it across the street, up the hill, and into our living room.
“Are you sure you’ve got your end?” Isaiah asked, joking with his son. It was unbelievable I was a witness to it. I found myself captivated by any interaction between a father and their child. Especially one where I’d loved the father as much as I had Isaiah.
“Yeah. I’m sure,” Ike answered back through the stray limbs that were in his face. Isaiah definitely got the better end of the deal. They placed the tree in the stand Lovie had readied in the corner on the opposite wall of the television.
Isaiah pointed to the floor, signaling Ike to get down on his belly and tilt the tree left and right while the rest of us chimed in on the straightness before he tightened the screws of the stand.
“It’s perfect,” Ever declared. Even as a little girl, she’d always loved our trees. In Vermont, there were trees everywhere for her to adore, but to have one of her very own inside our house enchanted her. I had to wait until she was in school to take the tree out and promise her it had been made into chips and mulch that would feed the earth again and make new trees.
When we drained the last drops of wine and hot chocolate, and the tree was lit with the lights dimmed, Isaiah and Ike finally called it a night. Ever watched with Carl from the window as they drove away. Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve. Her second in New Jersey, and her mind was lost somewhere other than the here and now.
“You okay?” I asked with the gentleness of a breeze. I wanted to entice her to turn around and talk to me.
She only nodded as the truck drove down the street.
“Well, you don’t look okay. Ever, I swear. I know there’s something going on. I can help. You can tell me anything.”
“I know.” She turned away from the window and smiled at me, but it was in response to her knowing I was there, not to the hope she might let me in. “I just worry about Ike.”
“Why? Because of school? Football? He did great.”
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.” I moved to her with care. My steps were soft and light. If we made a big deal out of anything, these girls fled. I pulled my daughter into a hug. “I want to be there to protect him.”
“Protect him from what?” I leaned back, begging her with my eyes to share her worries with me.
She was silent for so long that I thought she was going to tell, but then she took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water as she said, “Nothing.” She shook her head. “I’m just being emotional because of the tree.”
I waited, just like I did when I knew she had something to tell me when she was little.
“It could have been Ike, when Mr. Kennedy was attacked. He means as much to us as his dad does,” she finally said. “I know you’re going to tell me I worry too much.”
“I’m not going to say that at all, but let Ike’s mom and me worry about this. We’ll take care of him.”
There was more on her mind. I could tell by the way she looked across the room dazed.
“What else?”
“Billy Roberts looks at me sometimes like he can read my mind. If I even think one kind thought about him, he retaliates with something awful.”
“Like what?”
“The other day, Mr. Frank told him to stay after class, and Billy looked like he’d rather die. I must have had a sympathetic expression because he whispered, ‘Get out.’ He’s cold . . . forgotten.”
“Ike is right. You should stay away from him.”
“Mr. Frank just assigned us as partners for a Facebook project.”
“Keep your distance, Ever. He knows too much.”
“Billy or Mr. Frank?” Ever left me by the tree and walked upstairs, wondering what exactly Mr. Frank knew about us.
I made my way to my room. My eyes darted to the window as soon as I opened the door, and my stomach dropped. It was closed, and there wasn’t a hint of honeysuckle in the air. I missed Xavier. I wanted to see him, but I had no idea how to get ahold of him or where he lived. The questions went on and on.
What he looked like?
How he knew me?
What he was?
How he could fly?
Who else could he talk to in his head? I pulled back the coverlet on my bed and let the real question linger as I ran my hand over the cool sheets. Why wasn’t he there? I wasn’t sure if I’d ruined our friendship the night of the candlelight tour. I’d certainly risked more than he was willing to, and I did so after he had warned me not to fly there. He knew too much about what else was out there. About the Virago, and he knew too much about me. Even so, I wanted to see him.
I cracked the window and let the December freeze slip into my room. It swept across my stomach and thighs. I gazed up at the moon, and like a schoolgirl, I willed him to come to me.
If you’re out there, Xavier, come. I miss you.
“What are you doing with the window open?” Sloane asked as she swung my bedroom door toward me. “Trying to freeze to death?”
I shut the window and locked it without an explanation. “Are you going to bed?”
Sloane’s brows furrowed. She examined every inch of my bedroom before returning her gaze to me. “Do you want me to go to bed?”
“Sloane, I’m tired.”
“No, you’re not. You’re up to something. Tell me now, or I will torture you with it when I find out.”
“You’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you.”
She stepped further into my room and closed the door behind her. “Try me.”
“Have you ever met a man that can do things?”
“Yes. Rob. That’s why I married him.”
She always made me laugh. “No. Things like us.”
Her head pulled back like a chicken ready to peck, and her eyes widened. “Like us how?”
“Like he can fly.” She tilted her head. “And he is invisible.” I decided that was all I’d share. It wasn’t my secret to tell.
“When did you meet this . . . person?”
“The night Isaiah told me he’d been with Gisel.”
“Twenty years ago?” Sloane was irate. We’d never kept anything from each other, so my keeping something from her for twenty years was unthinkable. “Why the hell—”
“I had a lot on my mind that night. He helped me.” My shoulder. The tree. My flight home in his arms came rushing back. “He was kind, but I never knew what he was.”
“Not one male witch growing up. It’s like peanut allergies. Where are they all coming from? Ike, this kid Billy . . . I’ve never heard of any man who had any power.” Her anger switched to a smug smile. “Not unless a woman gave hers up to him. They’re kind of at our mercy. Don’t you think?”
