The Spirit Tree (4 page)

“It was a strange situation, to say the least.” I hadn’t noticed any rattlesnakes in the bunch. The story reeked of CYA by the Orange County Police Department, but if they didn’t press charges, I’d let it go.

The nurse informed me that I’d be released later in the afternoon. Good news and bad. While I wanted to go home, my leg ached once they weaned me off the IV pain meds. Gram Mae and Dottie excused themselves to go to my apartment and pick up clean clothes, since the ones I’d worn to the hospital were covered in blood and vomit.

I woke from a nap to find a strange man sitting at the end of my bed—a Native American, judging by his dark skin and deep-brown eyes. Age and the sun had wrinkled his face. He met my eyes and tipped his white cowboy hat. A band of black fur and a fluffy black tail accented his hat. My pulse beat in my ears. I fumbled for the “Call” button, and the man disappeared.

The distorted voice of a nurse filled the room. “Yes?”

“Sorry, I was trying to turn on the television.”

By force of will, and a healthy dose of fear, I managed to stay awake until the discharge nurse came. I partially listened as the nurse went over wound-care instructions and gave me a quick lesson on the proper use of crutches. Dottie and Mae returned with a change of clothes as the nurse removed the IV. Another hour passed while we waited for the orderly to come with the wheelchair.

Once in Dottie’s car, I couldn’t keep quiet. “I saw a man with a white cowboy hat in my room.”

My aunt’s eyes tensed in the rearview mirror. Gram Mae turned in her seat. “We’ll talk once we get you home and resting.”

Not what I wanted to hear. I wanted them to poke fun, laugh it off, and be done with the subject. I hadn’t mentioned the conversation with Uncle Charlie’s ghost or the wolf guy on the porch. No one asked, and I didn’t want to get into it in the hospital. People had found themselves locked in the psych ward for less. Hell, I’d signed the orders to lock up a few of them.

The rocking of the car on the drive drew me from my thoughts. From the outside looking in, the piece of land appeared peaceful. Too bad the hairs on the back of my neck didn’t feel the same way. A spike of fear made it difficult to breathe.

“Aunt Dottie, I need to get my phone and computer bag. I left them in your house last night.”

“All right. We’ll go with you.”

I wondered how Dottie felt about walking into her house for the first time since her husband died. Heaven knows it had been nonstop drama since Charlie passed away. We walked to the porch in heavy silence. I hobbled along on crutches. No snakes were out and about in the afternoon sun, but the way my skin crawled told me they were watching.

Inside, the house looked the same as it had the night before, with the exception of a large bloodstain on the carpet. In the stillness, I heard my aunt’s heart breaking all over again. She stood in her living room, looking around as if she’d never seen the room before.

“Well, I should get some dinner cooking. I have leftover meat loaf. I’ll warm it up for us,” Dottie said.

I cringed. “Um, I ate most of it last night. Sorry.”

Dottie laughed. “It’s all right. I wasn’t looking forward to leftovers anyway. How about some pizza?”

“Pizza sounds great. I need to go to my apartment and get some work clothes. Want me to pick it up on my way back?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to be driving?”

“I feel fine, don’t worry. I’ll be back before dark.”

“Tessa Marie, you’re not supposed to drive on pain pills. I’ve had my fill of hospitals. If you get in a wreck, don’t look for me to come sit with you,” Mae added.

“I’ll take it easy. I promise.”

Perhaps they were right, but I needed some time to myself. Once on the highway, I turned the radio volume up to an obscene level. Anything to drown out the noise in my head.

I entered my apartment, took a step back, and checked the number on the door. This couldn’t be my place. Dottie and Mae had cleaned the place from floor to ceiling. Sparkling-clean dishes sat in the drainer, and the week-old pizza box had vanished, along with the mountain of dirty clothes and books. No wonder it had taken them so long to return to the hospital—they’d cleaned up my mess. Now, if only they could clean up my mess of a life.

I needed to do laundry. The only clean under things had holes, looked dingy, or were granny panties I kept in case I needed extra modesty, or a reason not to get naked with someone. In the end, I tossed the dirty clothes into a suitcase, to wash at my great-grandmother’s place. I added a few pairs of shoes and zipped it. In the bathroom, I packed makeup and toiletries, careful to hide the pink packet of birth-control pills.

I smiled as I answered the phone. “Hi, Gram. I’m on my way back.”

“Don’t worry about pizza. Selma, from next door, brought over a casserole, and some of the ladies from the church showed up with more food. We’ll be eating sympathy casseroles for weeks.”

Neither my aunt nor my great-grandmother would willingly eat other people’s cooking. Dinners would be like eating with a couple of food critics.

“All right. See you soon.” I almost hung up, but added, “I love you, Gram.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. Don’t be too long.”

I dropped my phone into my purse, and it rang again. I wished I hadn’t answered as soon as I hit the button. “Hi, Ian.”

“Are you busy tonight? I have beer, and you have HBO.” His voice grated on my frazzled nerves.

“My uncle died, thanks for asking. I was shot. I hate beer. Get your own damned HBO, and lose my number.” I disconnected and mumbled, “Asshole.” I hoped I’d disconnected before I said the last word.

Gram Mae and Aunt Dottie were waiting at Mae’s kitchen table when I came through the door. “Is everything okay?”

“We were just visiting.” Mae smiled.

I moved toward to my bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are your crutches?” Dottie asked.

“In the car. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

I dumped everything in the tiny bedroom and joined them. My leg had gone from a mild throb to full-blown pain, and Ian’s call turned my already-gloomy mood into something worse.

“Your leg might be feeling better if you’d use the crutches, like the doctor said.” Mae set dinner on the table.

“I couldn’t carry my bags—”

Mae raised her brows.

“You’re right. I’ll use them.” I eased my leg onto the chair beside me.

“We decided it’s best if we all sleep here tonight.” Mae poured a glass of sweet tea and set it in front of me.

“Thanks, Gram. Sounds good to me.” I scooped myself a heaping serving of salmon salad. “I need to be up early. I have to work, and I should stop by the police station on my way in.”

“You shouldn’t talk to them without a lawyer, Tessa.” Dottie served herself a helping.

“I need to look through some photos to see if I can identify the naked guy.” I ignored the grunt of disapproval from Mae when I spoke with my mouth full.

Mae pulled a necklace from her pocket. “You need to put this on. Don’t take it off, even in the tub.”

I studied the turquoise-and-silver pendant. In the center, several snakes curled around a silhouette of a bird flying toward a tiny sun. “It’s beautiful, but I thought it was forbidden to have the likeness of a snake in your home?”

“It is but Charlie revered snakes, and I think they revered him. This is a protection amulet.”

“Thanks.” I slid the necklace over my head, and the amulet heated against my skin. “What did you do to this thing? It’s practically burning me.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Please tell me what’s going on.”

Mae and Dottie exchanged looks. “Go take a bath. I left out the little rose soaps you love so much. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

Mae’s chin rose, and I knew better than to argue.

I ran a bath and sank into the tub, propping my injured leg on the outer edge. Being in the familiar space made me feel better.

Here, I could pretend the world made sense. I imagined myself at eight years old, soaking in the claw-foot tub. The water clouded from the quarter-size, rose-shaped soaps. I sang a song that sounded like gibberish, more sounds than words. Gram Mae baked oatmeal-raisin cookies in the kitchen. Uncle Charlie trimmed the hedges, whistling his private tune, while Dottie sunned herself nearby. If only I could go back to that time, I wouldn’t take a second for granted.

I hummed the song from my childhood, trying to hold on to the memories. The song still haunted my dreams, though I couldn’t remember the words. Like so many childhood things, the lyrics were lost when I realized they weren’t real.

A female figure appeared in the steamy bathroom: a beautiful woman with long red hair and pale skin. She was tall and willowy, with delicate features. This woman had appeared to me a few times over the years, always here in the rose-scented mist of my bath.

I whispered, “Are you real?”

“I was real once.”

“Why can I see you?”

“You see much. But you can see more when you close your eyes.” The woman laughed and disappeared.

“Wait. Come back. What does that mean?” I sat up too fast, my wounded leg slipping into the water. “Dammit.”

Mae knocked on the door. “Tessa Marie? Are you all right in there?”

“Yes, ma’am. I must have fallen asleep. I got my bandages wet.”

Mae and Dottie bustled into the bathroom to help me out of the tub. I loved them dearly, even though they had no sense of personal boundaries. In their eyes, I would always be a little girl.

“I saw the woman again—the one with the long red hair.” I pulled a towel around my chest as Dottie bent over my calf with clean bandages.

“I figured she’d come to you soon enough. She always comes when you’re having troubles.” Mae glanced at Dottie.

I frowned at the silent exchange. “Okay, please tell me what’s going on. I can tell you two are hiding something.”

“Get dressed and we’ll talk,” Dottie said.

I limped into the kitchen, and Mae pulled the good whiskey down. She poured three glasses about three fingers full and left the bottle in the center of the table. A growing sense of doom filled me as my eighty-six year-old great-grandmother downed the shot.

“We aren’t sure, but Charlie’s death may not have been an accident.” Mae watched Dottie finish her whiskey. “A healthy heart doesn’t just go out like that.”

I scratched the side of my head. The logical part of my brain screamed that they called heart disease “the silent killer” for a reason. Seemingly healthy hearts stopped all the time. Then again, I knew there were things in this world that defied logic.

“How does someone cause a heart attack?” I asked.

“A conjurer could do it, with black magic.” Mae met my eyes. “Like the fellow you saw in your room, with the white cowboy hat.”

I downed my whiskey. “Why was he in my room, then?”

“We aren’t sure.” Mae motioned to the necklace. “That will keep him from hurting you.”

The amulet cooled to my touch, maybe because my chest burned from the liquor. “Uncle Charlie spoke to me, in the hospital.”

This news drew both women’s attention. Dottie’s eyes filled with tears, and I regretted my words. “He told me you two were in danger. Do you have protection necklaces, too?”

Dottie shook her head. “We’re safe, as long as we’re here. The land is sacred and protected.”

“The snakes.”

“Yes, along with spells and such.” Mae refilled her glass.

“Then why were the wolves able to get on the property? One almost got into the house last night.”

“But he didn’t get in. I bet they were trying to draw you out.”

I sat back in my chair. None of this made sense. Then again, it didn’t
not
make sense. A wolf turned into a man on the front porch. Anything could happen. “Who is the red-haired woman?”

Mae said, “I’ve never seen her, but I believe she’s your uncle Charlie’s daughter, Atsila. She died when you were small.”

Dottie nodded. “Her mother was Cherokee.”

My curiosity begged me to ask more questions, but my manners held the questions at bay. Did Charlie have a wife before Dottie, or had he cheated? I’d always believed they had an ideal marriage.

“It was before my time.” Dottie squeezed Tessa’s hand.

I poured myself another shot and debated telling them the rest of the conversation with Uncle Charlie. A call to Dr. Marvin Hicks at the University of Florida topped my to-do list.

I limped toward the police station on crutches. My hands hurt and my armpits ached, but I didn’t dare get caught without them. Mae would tan my hide, though the idea of Gram Mae with a switch paled in comparison to jail cells.

Nervous tension knotted my stomach. I wondered if they’d arrest me on the spot. That detective said there wouldn’t be any charges. Didn’t cops lie? They did in the movies. I detoured into a coffee shop to rethink what I’d tell the police. I moved the strap of my laptop case higher on my shoulder and checked the time.

“It’s always busy this time of morning,” a male voice said from behind me.

I turned and met the most gorgeous set of blue eyes I’d ever seen. Not just blue, but a glassy shade of blue that reminded me of the Caribbean. He wore his dark hair short and tidy. I hadn’t given much thought to my wardrobe. The plain gray maxi dress covered my bandages, and the old cardigan added modesty. The flat shoes made it easier to hobble around on crutches. A practical outfit, if not attractive. “Everyone’s desperate for one cup of good coffee before they have to resort to the office swill.” I smiled and turned.
Office swill? Who says that?

The guy with the eyes laughed. I adjusted my bag again and took a step toward the counter. My back to him, I could feel him watching me. I tried to think of something clever to say. I hadn’t gotten a look at his left hand. He looked too good, in his worn jeans and gray sports coat. He had to be married.

An image flashed through my mind. He sat on a worn brown-leather couch, his feet on a coffee table, beer in one hand and remote control in the other. I could smell steak cooking on a grill outside the sliding glass door. A large chocolate lab sprawled out beside him, taking up more couch space than he did. A poster or two on the walls, no feminine touches.