I’m trembling.
“She said some other stuff too, but the important part here is about you and Amelia. I find out from your sister that you’re gone away for the weekend and then I look at the calendar and it hits me. The anniversary of Nelle’s death. It hit me like a ton of bricks. And I called your phone a hundred times and you didn’t answer. And then you finally call and tell me you’ve been bit by a snake and you disappear again and, well… you can imagine what I’m thinking…”
I can imagine. And she has no idea.
“Especially with you being in Drowsy Hollow. They still never caught that guy that went on the killing spree in town last Fall. Still never found his wife. They both just vanished.”
I shiver. I heard that story before. It was all over the news. Talk about chilling.
“My sister’s letter hinted at something that would convince you girls that magic is real.”
“Rick isn’t real magical,” I mutter.
Mom laughs loud. “No, he’s not. Maybe my sister knew something I don’t.”
My laughter dies in my throat and my chin wobbles.
“What about you?” Mom asks. “What about this man who’s made you cry?”
I shiver. She grabs my hand and her voice takes on a strange tone. “We grew up around that area and there were some rumors,” Mom whispers. “About shapeshifters, witches, vampires…”
I shiver some more. No, more than a shiver. More like a full-body shudder. She grips me tight. She felt that.
“Crazy stories we’d tell around the fire. It was like a rite of passage for teenagers to go looking for them. I’ve heard stories about nosy kids getting too close to the truth and bad things happening to make them back off, to make them unwilling to talk about it.”
I gulp.
“A guy Aunt Nelle dated in high school said he’d seen a man change into a wolf in the woods one night. He told everyone who would listen. And then that boyfriend of hers… he disappeared. Weeks later, his parents told her, when she was so distraught she was pleading for them to answer the door… they said he joined the army. She asked for an address. They said they didn’t have one. She knocked at their door again a few weeks later again asking for an address to send him letters. They told her he died in a military accident and slammed the door on her. But… he would never have joined. It was completely out of character for him.”
I blow out a breath. “Holy crap.”
“And then she saw him, in a crowded marketplace sixteen years later in Eastern Europe. I have a feeling she went on a quest for him. But anyway, he pretended he didn’t know her. She was sure it was him. She said he hadn’t aged.”
“God, Mom.” All the hairs on my arms are standing on end.
“Yep. Anyway, you go missing and you tell us about a snake bite, and then you come back distraught after having said you met somebody, and you’re all bandaged, and your eyes are different. Not just the color, Ivy. Your eyes are different.”
I blow out another breath.
“Do you have anything you want to tell me?”
“I can’t,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I see.” She goes quite for a long moment. “Sweetie…” She lets that hang.
“It’s over with him,” I say.
“Do you believe in magic, Ivy?” Mom asks in a whisper.
“Yeah, Mom. I do.” My voice breaks on the ‘do’ and I burst into tears again and bury my face into Mom’s chest. She holds me tight.
“Then, maybe it shouldn’t be over with him. Your Aunt Nelle wanted you to be happy.”
I can’t do this. I can’t tell her. I can’t. I shake my head vigorously to make her stop saying those things.
“But, how bad of a fight?” she pushes.
“Please drop it, Mom? Please, please please?” I look up at her.
She looks like she’s aged ten years suddenly. There’s so much concern on her face. She nods.
“You talk when you’re ready. I’ll go make some coffee.”
I’ll never be ready to talk. I nod anyway.
***
Amelia is back thirty minutes later, so Mom makes us chocolate chip and banana pancakes and bacon. We say nothing about any of that stuff to my sister, but I only get two bites into me before I’ve lost my appetite. I stare at the plate thinking about how much Tyson loves bananas. And bacon.
Amelia looked between us upon getting back. We were sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking coffee, not talking.
Her eyes bounced between us and her mouth opened, as if she was about to speak. I pretended not to see Mom give her a sharp shake of her head, clearly discouraging her from bringing anything up that would upset me. Then we pretended like nothing happened. Amelia didn’t typically let things go.