The Returning (23 page)

Her father was waiting for her to go on. “What is it, Beka?” he asked again.

“Do you think—” She stopped. She could hardly believe she was going to ask her father this question, but she had to ask somebody. She had to know. “Do you think we can put a curse on people?”

“A curse? What do you mean?”

“I mean, like, if you cast a spell that might hurt someone, do you think it would work?”

Her father seemed to think about that. Finally he said, “Listen, honey, in prison I came up against everything you can imagine. One of the guys there was into voodoo. He was forever ripping up his bedsheets to make dolls out of them to put curses on people. Finally the guards made him sleep without sheets.”

“So he’d stop putting curses on people?”

“No, so he’d stop ripping up the prison’s sheets. That kind of stuff costs, and the warden doesn’t like it when the prisoners waste money.”

Rebekah cocked her head and eyed her father sideways. “So did he ever put a curse on you?”

“Yeah, he did. He thought I cut in on him in line once, when I really didn’t. But that’s a big thing in prison, especially when you’re in the chow line, which we were. I heard that night through the prison grapevine that he’d put a curse on me.”

“So what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“No. A few days later he was transferred out of the prison and taken somewhere else.”

“Are you saying there’s nothing to any of this stuff?”

He laid the Bible on the bed, kept his hand on top of it. “Well, I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask, but I really don’t think so. Why do you want to know?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I just—I saw a movie. Yeah, there was a movie about that sort of thing, and it got me thinking.”

“Oh.” He tilted his chin, seemed to study her. “I think you watch too much scary stuff. It gives you nightmares. I’ve heard you wake up screaming more than once.”

“Um, yeah.” She tried to laugh, but it fell flat. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Can you . . . ?” She nodded toward the stairway.

“Sure.” He stood. “I think your mom has some jumper cables in the Volvo.”

Ten minutes later the Jetta was purring. Rebekah, behind the wheel, watched as her father pushed the hood closed and then disconnected the cables from the battery of her mother’s car.

Cables still in one hand, he leaned his other hand on the sill of the open driver’s-side window. “How far you going?”

“A couple miles.”

“Well, listen, take the long way. You need to run this thing for a good twenty minutes. I suppose this is the original battery?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, we’ll have to get you a new one. Along with everything else around here. When we can afford it.”

She frowned. “Yeah, okay.”

He took a step back, started rolling up the cable.

Rebekah reached for the shift and put the car in reverse. She kept her foot on the brake and squeezed the wheel with both hands.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the jump.”

“Sure thing, Beka.”

She wanted to say something else, but she wasn’t sure what it was. And then the moment passed.

“Well,” her father said, “have a good time at your friend’s.”

“Yeah.” Her hands relaxed; her foot let up on the brake. A certain longing hung at the back of her throat. “I will,” she said quietly.

She backed the car down the graveled drive, looked for traffic, eased out onto the road. She traveled around the lake for twenty minutes, trying unsuccessfully to erase from her thoughts the image of her father standing there alone by the cottage, one hand raised in a small wave as she drove away.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-FIVE

“It’s about time
you got here,” Lena said as she swung open the front door.

Rebekah looked beyond her friend’s shoulder as she spoke. “Sorry,” she said. “I—my car wouldn’t start.”

“So how come you didn’t call?”

“I was busy. I mean, my dad and I—we had to jump the car and all. The battery was dead.”

“Yeah? Well, I called you. Didn’t you hear the phone?”

Rebekah’s jaw tightened. She had heard her cell phone go off, but she’d ignored it. “I told you I was sorry,” she said. “I would have been on time if the battery hadn’t died.”

“Uh-huh. I thought maybe you were chickening out on me.”

Rebekah drummed up the courage to look Lena in the eye. “Listen, Lena,” she said, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Lena’s mouth grew small, but at the same time her face seemed to soften. She stepped aside and nodded toward the hall. “Well, come on in.”

Rebekah took a deep breath and stepped inside. Lena shut the door, then led the way down the hall to the kitchen.

Aunt Jo’s cottage was one of the newer ones on the lake, large and airy. The first time Rebekah visited, more than a year before, she’d simply walked from room to room, taking in the open spaces and the sunshine streaming in through the many large windows. While the place was unfamiliar, she felt oddly at home, almost as though she belonged there. Something about the cottage, she told Aunt Jo, made her happy.

Aunt Jo had been pleased. She had worked hard, she explained, to arrange everything in the cottage so that the energy would flow freely through each room, bringing balance and harmony. Rebekah had no idea what Aunt Jo was talking about, but in the months ahead, she would learn.

Rebekah and Lena entered the kitchen, where Aunt Jo was wiping the center island with a dishcloth. “Well, there you are, Beka,” the woman said warmly. She smiled, laid down the dishcloth, and pulled Rebekah into a hug. She was tall and willowy, so thin there was hardly anything there to hug, thought Rebekah.

“We were beginning to wonder,” Aunt Jo went on. “Anyway, I’ve just put a loaf of bread in the oven, so why don’t we sit at the kitchen table while it’s baking. I have some fresh lemonade in the fridge. Does everybody want some?”

Aunt Jo was a pretty woman, though she preferred what Lena called “the natural look.” She used little makeup—maybe a dab of powder and blush, but nothing at all to highlight her eyes or color her lips. She didn’t bother either to wash the gray streaks out of her otherwise dark brown hair, which she generally pulled back into a simple clip at the base of her neck. She most often, as now, wore a solid color cotton blouse and a long billowy skirt, the hem of which reached almost down to her slender bare feet. Her one indulgence was jewelry, which she wore a lot of. She seemed especially fond of weighty earrings that pulled on her lobes and tickled the sides of her neck. She also wore a variety of necklaces, bracelets, and rings—several at once, as though she couldn’t settle on one or two. She even wore ankle bracelets and toe rings.

Her features were fine and even, her skin amazingly smooth except for the deep laugh lines around her eyes. That was what Rebekah liked most about her—the ready smile, the quick and easy laugh. She seemed to be in love with the world and everyone in it. The only exception Rebekah knew of was Aunt Jo’s former husband, who had left her alone and childless some years before. She supported herself as a buyer for a department store in the next town over, though she earned a little extra cash reading tarot cards for clients on the weekends.

As much as Rebekah liked Lena’s aunt, her stomach churned now as she watched the woman pour lemonade into tall, narrow glasses. She wished she hadn’t come. She wished she had just kept driving in circles around the lake. She didn’t want to talk with Aunt Jo about what had happened. She was here only because for more than a week Lena kept bugging her until she agreed to come.

When the three of them settled at the kitchen table, Rebekah thought she might be able to steer the conversation toward small talk. But Aunt Jo plunged right in. “Well, Beka,” she said, “I’m sorry to hear about your friend.”

“She’s not our friend,” Lena interrupted.

No
, Rebekah’s mind echoed,
she’s not our friend
. Rebekah didn’t like Jessica Faulkner, had had thoughts of her—no, it was wrong even to remember. She pursed her lips and shut her eyes for a moment. She had to be careful what she thought. Thoughts had power. Thoughts could change things.

“Well . . .” Aunt Jo paused and took a sip of lemonade. Then she looked at Rebekah. “Lena tells me you think it’s your fault, that you somehow brought about the accident.”

Rebekah shrugged. Her breath quickened, though she tried to sound nonchalant. “We wanted her to stay away from David.”

“So you tried to cast a spell?”

Rebekah glanced at Lena and nodded. “Yeah, we did. And then not long after that . . .”

When Rebekah couldn’t finish, Lena jumped in. “After that Jessica got hurled from the Scrambler, and now Beka’s afraid to practice the Craft.”

Aunt Jo reached across the table and took Rebekah’s hand. “First of all, you had nothing to do with it. Second, you and Lena have a lot to learn. The universe doesn’t necessarily work the way you think it does.”

Then how does the universe work?
Rebekah wondered. She had thought she was beginning to understand, but now she was more confused than ever.

“Now listen, girls, I want the two of you to stop casting spells for a while. You’re obviously not ready.”

“But, Aunt Jo!”

“Hear me out, Lena.”

“Maybe Beka’s not ready, but I am. I’ve been ready for a long time.”

“Lena, you have so much to learn. Casting spells isn’t the most important thing—”

“Then what is?”

Aunt Jo let go of Rebekah’s hand and laid an open palm over Lena’s forearm. Rebekah felt relieved to have her hand back. She dropped both hands to her lap as she listened to the answer.

“Learning is,” Aunt Jo said, speaking quietly but firmly. “That’s what’s most important. That’s why we’re here. To grow spiritually, to learn to live in harmony with all things. But you don’t want that—especially you, Lena. You’re still more interested in having your own way. You wrestle with the universe rather than walking in tune with it. You’ll never achieve anything until you cooperate with the goddess and the god.”

Lena didn’t respond, though her face was tight with annoyance. Aunt Jo gazed at Lena placidly for a long while. She seemed to be willing her to understand.

Finally Aunt Jo turned again to Rebekah. Rebekah dropped her eyes, chewed at the inside of her cheek.

“Beka, honey, listen. You have nothing to be afraid of. Everything about the Craft is good and beautiful. You know that, don’t you?”

Rebekah shrugged. She couldn’t look into Aunt Jo’s face. “I guess so,” she said.

“The only evil is the evil we ourselves create. If you live in harmony with nature, and with the goddess and the god, you are perfectly safe.”

Rebekah nodded. She had heard all this before, months ago, when Lena and her aunt had introduced her to the Craft.

Then she had welcomed it all. And even now, she still wanted to believe it. The Craft had grounded her when she’d felt herself floating, given her something to hold on to when everything in her life seemed out of control. She needed both the peace and the power that Aunt Jo had promised back at the beginning.

She lifted her chin slowly and met Aunt Jo’s gaze. “So you don’t think we did it to Jessica? I mean, you don’t think we made the accident happen?”

Aunt Jo gave a small, reassuring laugh. “Of course not, Beka.”

“But it’s possible, isn’t it, to put a curse on people?”

“Some people seem to be able to do that kind of thing, but they’re not like us. We vow only to do good. Remember what I told you the foundation of the Craft is?”

Rebekah nodded.

“What is it?”

“Love.”

“That’s right. Love for all people, for animals, for nature, for all things.”

“Sometimes,” Rebekah said, “it’s hard to love certain people.”

Aunt Jo nodded, offered a small smile. “Even when it’s hard, you must allow the divine in you to honor the divine in them. We are, after all, all part of each other, all part of the divine.”

The room was quiet a moment. Rebekah sensed her fear beginning to lift. She drew in a deep breath.

“So, Beka, do you want to go on learning?”

Rebekah nodded. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I do.”

Aunt Jo smiled at her, and then at Lena.

“Anyway, Beka,” Lena said, “if it’ll make you feel any better, I heard Jessica’s going to be all right.”

“She is?” Rebekah asked eagerly. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Some guy at the movie theater. I heard him talking about her while he was waiting in line for popcorn. So when he reached the counter, I asked him. He said her parents moved her to a hospital in Rochester for a while, but they expect her to be okay.”

“See there?” Aunt Jo said happily. “All is well.”

“So why didn’t you tell me before?” Rebekah asked.

Lena shrugged. “I don’t know. Guess I forgot. But, listen, she’s going to be in Rochester for the rest of the summer, so that’s good news, huh?”