The Magick of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root) (35 page)

In spite of everything, Thanksgiving turned out better than expected. The turkey was moist, the wine flowed freely, and Mother, quite lucid, regaled us all with stories from her youth.

“Did you really use your magick to give a woman warts, Grandma?” June Bug asked, picking at the massive drumstick on her plate.
 

“Not just any warts,” Mother said, her eyes taking on a wicked glee. “Warts the size of jelly beans!”

“That doesn't sound very nice,” Merry said.

Aunt Dora stamped her fists on the table, causing some of the wine in the glasses to spill over. “The woman had it comin’! Trying ta steal yer mother’s beau. Warts was the least she deserved!”

Beau?

That word caught our attention and we all turned our heads. Mother had never spoken of romance or
beaus
before.

“Which beau was that?” I asked, smiling over a glass of wine I pretended to sip for Shane’s benefit. Leo had fallen asleep after his third piece of pumpkin pie, and rested his head on my shoulder. Shane bristled as he walked by, carrying away empty plates.

Mother examined me for a long time, then pursed her lips and said, “Maggie, is it so hard to believe I once had a beau?”

“Armand?” I asked, taking a stab by naming the only straight male I’d ever heard her speak of.

She shook her head, then blew her nose into a tissue. “No, not Armand. This was way before him.” Her eyes glassed over as she picked through the seeds of her memory.
 

“Were you in love?” I asked, noticing Shane, who had found a seat alone at the end of the table.

“Oh, Maggie.” She sighed.

“Were you?” June Bug asked as we all leaned in.
 

“I was young.” Mother’s lips were taut but drawn up at the corners, creating a dimple in her left cheek I’d never known she had. “His name was Robert.”

Robbie?

“We met at a dance. He was in the service and I spotted him in his uniform. With one smile he swept me off my feet.”

She shook her head, her eyes moistening. “Now, the country was opposed to war, and me, too. What was going on in the rest of the world shouldn’t concern us. But he got me caught up in his convictions, his enthusiasm that the whole world needed to be free and that even though we were geographically disconnected, a connection existed between all of us. He changed my ideas on…everything.”

Aunt Dora nodded solemnly in agreement.

“Did he, um…did he…?” I couldn’t bring myself to ask the question, but I didn’t need to.
 

Mother dabbed her eyes with the Kleenex.

“Yes, Maggie, he did. Bravely, I hear.” She caught her breath, a haunting, gasping sound from her soul. Aunt Dora placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder.

“We lost a lot of young men that year,” Mother continued. “War’s dirty work, but often necessary. Like our work here, it can fight back the encroaching dark.”

Merry looked at Mother. “It’s okay, Mama. You don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

Mother recovered herself and stared hard at Merry. “But I want to talk about it! If I don’t talk about it, it’s like he never existed. Dora and I might be the only ones who still remember. I’ve been wishing him away too long.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” I said, trying to console her. “But at least you have the memory.”

“Oh, Maggie. If only I’d been near him, I could have used my wand…” She swallowed. “But I could only save so many.”

Aunt Dora took her cane and rose, lumbering up behind her. “Death takes us all eventually, Sasha. Ya couldn’t have helped fer ever.”

Leo stirred beside me. I patted his head, lulling him back into his dreams.

“What was his last name?” Ruth Anne asked, pulling out her notepad. “Maybe we could get in touch with some of his relatives?”

Mother fixed her steely eyes upon Ruth Anne, lifting her chin defiantly. “Maddock.”
 

My heart beat wildly in my chest at her announcement. I exchanged wide-eyed glances with the others.
Maddock.
Our last name.

Mother rose, more with strength that comes from determination than from muscle.
 

“Shane, thank you for a lovely evening,” she said. “That’s the best food I’ve had in quite a while.” And then to Merry. “I’m tired. Please take me home now.”

I was still stunned by Mother’s announcement when Shane tapped me on the shoulder. “Maggie, can I have a word with you before you go?”
 

The room had mostly emptied out.
 

Ruth Anne and Merry had taken Aunt Dora, Mother, and June Bug home, leaving Eve and myself to assist with the cleanup. Leo still slept in his chair, snoring loudly enough to rouse himself from time to time, before drifting back off to sleep.
 

I nodded and followed Shane to the plush booth in the rear of the dining room. A rush of nostalgia swept over me as I remembered the last time I sat in this booth, the night Shane had debuted his remodeled café.
 

A month ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.

“Firstly,” Shane said, sliding in beside me. “I want to apologize for last night.”

“Last night?”

His face turned red. “Um, yes. Last night?”

“Oh.” The dream came back to me. Shane pressing against me, clenching my pendant in his hands. My eyes widened. “So, you really can…?”

“Yes, since I was little. It’s not something I do often. And I’d like to think I have no control over it, but I do. A little anyway.”

“But how?”

“Well…” he ran his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “If I fall asleep thinking of someone, sometimes I can enter their dreams.”

“I see.” My heart beat rapidly as I realized he really had come to me.
 

“I apologize if I wasn’t a gentleman. I may have been caught up by your charms.”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize,” I said, blushing at the memory.

“Yes, yes, I do.” He bent his head, revealing the soft hairs on the back of his neck. “I’m not like that, really, I promise.”

“Oh.” I tried to hide my disappointment. I liked the real Shane, but the dream Shane...
 

My knees weakened at the thought.

“Secondly,” he continued, meeting my eyes once again. “I’m still sorry for what you saw the other day. It wasn't what it looked like.”

The lights around us flickered off and on as I thought about
Dream Shane
doing those things to that other woman. I gazed at him coldly. “You’re a grown man, Shane Doler. You can do whatever you like.”

“Yes, that’s true and thank you for that, but––”

“We are both adults,” I continued, jealousy rising inside me. “We can both do whatever we like.”

Shane pressed his palms together. “Maggie, if you weren't so hard-headed and you listened for a change, you’d see there was nothing going on with me and that woman.”

“Like I said, do what you want.”

“Goddammit, Maggie. Why do you have such a thick skull? I don’t want to do anything with her!”

“Then why did you?”

“I didn’t. You know, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall.”

“Hey, I wasn't the one with a strange woman in my room.”

“No, you’re the one with the strange man in my diner.”

“So?”

“So? So? Who is he anyways? And where is he staying?”

“He’s staying at Harvest Home. And he’s an old friend, like Eve said.”

Shane focused on Leo across the room. “He doesn't look that old.” His eyes shifted as a thought ran through his brain. “Is this the secret you’ve been keeping from me? This new man?”

“No! And anyways, it’s none of your business. Is this why you called me over? To interrogate me about Leo?” I crossed my arms and stared defiantly back.

“No, I called you over to tell you that I was sorry for the dream and for what you saw that morning, neither of which I had much control over.”

“So, you’re not sorry you did it, just that I saw it?”

“I didn’t
do
anything.”

“Like I said, do what you want.”

“Fine, Maggie. I’m done trying to explain. But if you had an ounce of faith in someone, things might get easier for you.”

“Who says my life’s not easy?” I demanded, scooting out of the booth. “My life is fine, thank you. And stay out of my dreams!”

“That’s our Maggie,” Shane hollered as he stomped into the kitchen. “The lone wolf.” I felt his eyes traveling back to Leo. “Or maybe you’ve found your pack-mate.”

“C’mon, Leo,” I said, waking him. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the empty diner. “Merr-ee?” he asked.

“No. Merry went home. But Maggie’s got you. Maggie won’t let anything happen to you.”

He reached up and looped an arm around my neck.

“Magg-eee,” he crooned, planting a kiss on my cheek.

A glass broke somewhere in the kitchen.

Sometimes all you can do is wait.

Wait for a friend. Wait for a lover. Wait for winter to turn into spring.
 

Wait for the man sleeping in your bed––who by all rights should be dead and buried right now––to get better and live again.
 

But three days after his resurrection and, besides adding a few new words to his vocabulary––Pixie Sticks, Twizzlers, and gummies––there was little indication that Leo was ever going to get better.

“I can’t do this,” I said, as much to him as to myself. “I’m not cut out to take care of anything.”

Leo sat on my bed, watching ravens from the window. “Pretty birdies,” he said, tapping the glass with his finger.

“Yes, yes, pretty birdies,” I agreed, looking around the room for something to do. We had hidden out for the last three days, away from the questioning eyes of Aunt Dora and the accusing looks of Shane. In that time I had done my best to educate Leo about the world. He showed no interest in any of it except for the Cookie Monster and “birdies.”

And candy.