The Accidental Witch (29 page)

“Yuck. It would have hurt me if it had worked,” I said. “Why didn’t it work?”

Fred shrugged. “Aphrodite has no power over you. That could mean one of two things.”

“What two things?”

“Either you are too strong for the spell or Abaddon, who is stronger than Aphrodite, still wants you badly enough to shield you from such spells.”

“Wonderful,” I said sitting down in the red chair in the foyer. The room was beginning to spin. Something about Crowley had left me feeling queasy.

The doorbell rang. I shut my eyes. What now? I really didn’t want any more weirdoes in my living room. I was all stocked up. Diane answered the door for me. I peeked through the door. Shit. The worst weirdo of them all.

Johnny Boy stood on my front porch looking more gorgeous than ever with his windswept hair and beautiful blue eyes. Damn him. He had flowers in his hand and a kind of guilty, sheepish look on his face that made me remember why I had spent ten years doing whatever he said like some kind of tragic puppy. Fred and Johnny Boy gave each other looks that would have melted the flesh off the Devil. They had apparently had words while I was ill. Fred didn’t look happy to see John.

“I heard you were awake,” John said.

“Mostly,” I answered.

He stepped inside and handed me the flowers and a wrapped box. I held the two things. He’d always been good at giving gifts.

“I was so worried about you,” he said.

“How’d you even know I was sick?” I asked.

“Aaron called me. I was still on your next of kin list. You should really update those things more often. He was really worried when someone took you out of the ICU for home health.” John gave Fred a nasty look.

“Well, Fred’s care certainly did wonders for me, didn’t it?” I said.

John didn’t respond. “I was hoping we could talk alone,” John said.

“We can go out on the front porch,” I said.

I walked outside and sat on the swing. John sat next to me. He sat so close, I could feel his skin on mine.

“What?” I asked.

“I want you to know I’ve forgiven you for the affair you had with your patient and for embarrassing me publicly,” he said. “I’ve changed and worked through my steps and now I can finally forgive you.”

“I hate you,” I replied.

“I know I hurt you and your hate comes from that hurt, but I’m making this offer only once. I know I made mistakes, but I assure you I won’t make them in the future. You can come back with me. We can go back to our old life. I’ve stopped drinking, so I don’t think we’ll have the problems we had before. I’ve talked to the board and pulled some serious strings and they are willing to give you your license back on a probationary status. You could return to your life. You can open your own practice. You can move back to Chicago with me and live in the city away from all these rubes. And don’t worry about your hair. I will help you find a wig that will make you look just like you used to.”

It was everything I wanted. I wanted my license back so badly, I could taste it. I wanted to be a real psychologist again. Six months ago, I would have leapt at his offer. I would have jumped out of my skin to go back to my own practice in the city. I would have killed myself trying to win John back. I would have forgiven everything and believed him when he said he had changed, but sitting in the sunlight on my front porch, I saw John as I had never seen him before. I saw a lost man consumed by his own fears and anxieties. I saw a man with narcissistic personality disorder who only saw people as accessories to himself. He could stop the drinking. He could even stop the cheating, but beneath all the pretty lies, he was the most egocentric person I had ever met. Time had eroded away my admiration for John. I no longer saw the money and flash. The pretty words were empty. Stripped naked, John was an ugly man and all the money and good looks in the world couldn’t hide that.

I looked over my shoulder. Fred was in the house somewhere. I thought about my time with him, wrapped up in his arms. He took care of me. He was kind and loving. And the most fascinating man I had ever known. Sitting there looking at John’s blue eyes, I realized that I loved Fred. I was totally, madly, completely in love with him. I loved everything about him. I loved that he was a dork. I loved that he didn’t care what the world thought of him. He was his own man and he was full of passion for what he believed was right. With Fred, I would never be told how to dress or act. He would never tell me to be quiet or worry about what others thought about me and my behavior. I loved that about him.

“I have no interest in being with you,” I said to John.

“You can’t honestly want to stay here in Alabama, can you? I mean, I know infants that have more teeth than most of the hicks in this town.”

“I have friends here and they may not have teeth, but at least they aren’t shits. I’ve met more real people in this past year in Alabama than in all the time I spent married to you. I’m staying here and you can go back.”

“You can’t leave me!” John began in the angry voice that had shaped our marriage.

“You already kicked me out, remember? Did you really think I’d just sit down here and wait for you to come back for me?”

“Yes, frankly. It’s not like you’ve ever had any better offers. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Fred opened the door and stepped onto the porch. He put his arm around me and John backed down. John looked at Fred and I could tell it was just occurring to him that we were lovers. He nodded to Fred, kissed me on the cheek, and vanished. He looked disgusted as if he was disappointed in himself for even trying to be with me again. The entire encounter reminded me of how tired I was. I was so tired, my head throbbed. Fred helped me inside and took me upstairs. He helped me get undressed and into bed.

“You need to rest,” he said.

* * *

It was around six when Fred woke me up with a cup of tea. It was getting dark. I had slept too long. I drank the tea and felt slightly refreshed. I reached out and kissed him.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. He just kissed me back. I could have spent the rest of the night in bed with Fred. It was the only thing I really wanted to do. I wanted to feel him inside of me. I wanted his skin against mine. It was the only thing I could think about, but he pulled back.

“You have visitors,” he said. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s a couple of ladies from the hospital.”

“Oh,” I said straightening my hair with my hands. There wasn’t much to straighten, but the action was more reflexive than necessary.

I stood up and smoothed my clothes. I checked the mirror to make sure I didn’t look like I had just fallen out of bed. At least the short hair would be easy to take care of. I looked just like I’d looked before I went to sleep. I looked at Fred and he smiled. I left him sitting on my bed and went downstairs. Amy and Sandy were sitting together in the front parlor. They each had a cup of coffee and they were chatting intensely about something. It was good to see Sandy again. Strangely, I had missed her. I had missed her southern charm and wit and I had missed the damn hospital, too. I missed the constant action and emotion. I suppose I’d had plenty of action of my own, but somehow that was much more stressful and less fulfilling than the action I’d seen at work. The action at the hospital also didn’t leave me scared and bald, which was a definite bonus. I smiled at Amy and she stood up.

We all sat down on the sofa together and there was an uncomfortable silence.

“Rumors spread fast in a small town,” Amy said.

I agreed with her.

“I didn’t believe the rumors at first. They didn’t make any sense, but I believe them now. You know the night you were burned, we had every bed in our hospital filled. I saw things in the days leading up to that night I had never even dreamt of. I saw women gouge their own eyes out and men castrate themselves with their hands. They say that in the week leading up to that night, twenty people died in this town. Can you imagine that? Only 8,000 people live here. Then you came in, burnt to a crisp, but still breathing. Burnt to a point you shouldn’t be breathing. People started saying the Devil came to our town that week and you fought him. You were a witch and that’s why all your patients got better.”

“Listen,” I began. “I’m sorry …”

“No, listen to me,” Amy continued. “When you came into my office that day and said you were a witch, I knew you were crazy, but you know, Millie told me before she died that it was all true. She said the rumors weren’t rumors and she told me other things, things she couldn’t have known, that made me believe.”

“You have to understand that this is very out of the ordinary and when I fired you, I was just making all the assumptions a normal, sane person would make in similar circumstances. I know now that I was wrong and I am sorry. Administration is sorry. We want you back. We need you. We’re short staffed and times have been hard and we’d like you to come back.”

“Twenty people died,” I said. “Millie is dead? They told me she was sick.” I think there were tears in my eyes. This is what Fred and Diane hadn’t wanted to tell me. We should have acted more quickly. I could have punched myself. Why hadn’t I done more?

“She died last night,” Amy said.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. Millie had saved my job with her dying breath. I felt overwhelmed with guilt over all the terrible assumptions I had made about her. “Who else died?” I asked.

“I lost my husband,” Sandy said.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

Sandy wasn’t so funny that day. She gave me a sad kind of smile that lacked her usual mirth. I really didn’t know what to say. I needed to get out. I needed to get back to work. I needed to make things better. I couldn’t bring people back, but I could at least be there.

“Of course I’ll come back,” I said. “There’s something I have to do, but I’ll be back in two weeks. Can I start then?”

“Yes,” Amy said. “But listen … if you have to do witchy stuff at work, can you be a little more discreet than you were the last time? This is a Christian town. If this rumor becomes a fact, there are people here that would ride you out on a rail. They won’t care how many people you save.”

“Of course,” I said.

We chatted for a bit after that. Diane popped in and we discussed the happenings at the hospital. There had been hard times, but everyone felt things would get better. Fred came in and I introduced him. We even invited Amy and Sandy to dinner. The two women declined in the most polite way possible. Amy had her husband to get home to and Sandy was staying with her daughter for a while. Her daughter would be worried if she was late. It was pleasant, but sad. Small towns take tragedy harder than big cities. Everyone knows everyone, and in a town like Dismal, it really does feel like the bell tolls for you. I had grown up with these people and even though I had hated half of them in my youth, I had grown to care about them. I hardly knew how much I cared until that night.

Fred had cooked again.
Cassolette.
It was a French dish. We didn’t talk much as we ate. I looked down at my arm and saw Abaddon’s mark and I never wanted to cut it from my flesh more than I did at that moment. I should have given myself to him the first moment I saw him. I should have handed myself over the first time he asked. From that night on, Cassolette would be the flavor of regret for me.

Diane did the dishes and Fred and I went to bed early. I took a pill for pain that I didn’t need. It was a hydrocodone. It numbed the sorrow. I washed it down with a beer and fell right to sleep. I didn’t dream and when I woke up to Fred’s tea, even his potions couldn’t entirely silence my sorrow.

* * *

It was late when we began our journey to France. I asked for seats far away from Crowley. The man made me squirm. We flew from Huntsville to Atlanta. I took another hydrocodone and fell asleep. It was a night flight. I slept for all seven hours of the flight from Atlanta to Paris. We had to catch a smaller plane for the trip into the Alps. By the time we arrived, we had been airborne for almost twelve hours not including layovers. Jet lag wouldn’t begin to describe how tired I was. I wasn’t just tired, I was weary.

We took a train from the airport to a town by Chateau de Blanc. The ride through the French countryside brightened my mood. It’s impossible to be too sad, surrounded by such a beautiful landscape. By the time we arrived at the little town, I was actually almost chipper. A Guild representative met us at the train station and drove us to the tiny village.

I had seen many castles in France. I had visited most of the castles in the Loire Valley and had traveled to Normandy to see the legendary Monte Sainte Michelle. Johnny Boy had loved to travel and I had loved to be with him. Those castles were beautiful beyond measure. They were like pieces of fairy tales and children’s dreams. The castle at Chateau de Blanc wasn’t like any of these castles.

It was a medieval fortress that had crumbled. It was perched atop a mountain and had looked down on the valley below. I had dreamt of this castle. I had dreamt of taking my mother’s heart in the snows behind it. I shuddered and tried to focus on the architecture. It was designed for war and its position was strategic. The castle was still strong where it counted, and it was enormous. We passed through the narrow village streets. The old village seemed to be trapped in time. Even the people seemed like they were from a different world. Finally, we passed through the portcullis. Inside, the castle looked a little like a university campus. The area inside the walls was open and filled with green grass and snow. Doors to little apartments that used to be servants’ quarters were open. Groups of people sat around talking.

The Guild member parked the car in front of the castle keep. He led us into the old stone fortress. It was old, but it had been modernized. There was electricity and signs pointed to restrooms. We were shown to our rooms and Crowley skulked off to wherever assholes like Crowley skulk off to. Fred and I were in a room together. Once we got settled, Fred vanished, leaving Diane and I on our own. We decided to rest.

* * *

It was still dark when I woke up. Fred was gone. I sat up. If I had a Spidey sense, it would have been tingling. I got up and pulled a fleece over my head and put on some fuzzy boots. I stepped out into the hall. It was dark, but I could feel my way through the dark. I could feel some kind of energy. It was drawing me to it. I had no idea what I was doing. It occurred to me that just doing whatever I felt like hadn’t really worked well for me in the past, but why mess with consistency?