The View from Prince Street (29 page)

Heat flooded my cheeks. “You're a good contractor.”

“That, too. But I don't visit my other job sites as much as I do yours.”

“You don't?”

“Why do you think I kept revising those plans for you and coming by your house? That's not standard client treatment.”

“Oh.”

“For a matchmaker, you should have seen through that.”

“I'm not a matchmaker.” A frown wrinkled my brow. “Ironic. I like you and now I'm telling it all to you in one rush. If it's too much . . . I understand.”

Lines around his mouth deepened with a frown. “Do I strike you as the kind of guy who runs from trouble?”

“No.”

“You're right. I'm not.”

Susan entered the room, her round face drawn. I wanted to rise but couldn't get out of the chair. “Susan.”

She came up to me and took my hand. Her grip held surprising strength. “He's out of surgery. They had to remove his spleen and he's lost a lot of blood.”

I searched her watery eyes. “But he's going to be all right?”

“The doctors are still worried. I can see it in their expressions. They said the next twenty-four hours will be critical.”

I'd lost Michael once, but to lose him again . . . “I feel like this is my fault. I thought it would be fun for him to hear about the witch bottles.”

“This isn't your fault. I don't want to see you beat yourself up.” Her voice caught in her throat and tears spilled down her cheeks. “He was very excited and looked forward to seeing you and learning more about his family history. He wanted to drive and I let him because I was tired. Michael's always taking care of me without one word of complaint. Todd's job requires him to travel out of town a lot.”

“Susan, your health is none of my business . . .”

“I have cancer,” she said without hesitation, as if she'd said it a million times. “Breast cancer. My second bout with it. The radiation has been rough, but the latest blood work looks hopeful.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Michael has been a champ. I don't think I'd have made it without him.” She shook her head. “I've got to beat this, at least until he's a little older.”

“You've raised a great kid.”

“You made a great kid and I will always be indebted to you for your unselfishness.” She squeezed my hand again. “He's tough, and I know he'll pull through.”

I didn't dare voice my fears of the McDonalds' terrible track record for longevity. “I know he will.”

As if recalling a memory, a smile teased her lips. “When he was ten, he decided to build a ramp in the backyard. He thought of himself as a stuntman. He propped up boards on my lawn furniture. I remember coming around the side of the house just as he took off. He hit the ramp before I could tell him to stop, and within seconds his front wheel pitched down and he sailed right over his handlebars. Evel Knievel on a bad day. Fell on his arm and broke it in two places. I freaked out. But all he could talk about was how he'd adjust the ramp for the next jump. When I pointed out his arm was broken, he was excited about the cast he'd get to wear the next day at school. I aged a decade that day.”

“In twenty-four hours, he'll be doing handstands for the nurses,” I said.

More tears ran down her cheeks, and she wiped them away. “I should have taken over driving once we hit heavy traffic, but he was so sure he could drive and didn't want to be late for the presentation. He really wanted to see the exhibit on the bottles.”

“There will be plenty of time for you both to visit and see the exhibit.”

The nurse came and removed the needle from my arm, and as soon as she put a bandage on me, I rose out of my chair and hugged Susan. I'm not usually a hugger—or at least I hadn't been for a long time. “Where's your husband?”

“He's flying in tonight. He's out west. I called him. He'll arrive at National in a couple of hours and come straight here.”

The nurse removed the needle from Zeb's arm. “When does your husband's flight arrive?” he asked.

Susan checked her watch. “In about an hour. He's going to grab a cab.”

“Let me send one of my guys to pick him up and bring him here.”

She pressed trembling fingertips to her temple. “Normally, his car is at the airport, but it needed an oil change so I dropped him off. Our other car is at home.”

“Tomorrow I'll see that he gets a ride to his car.”

She laid a palm over her heart. “You're so nice. You don't have to.”

“Glad to help.”

“Rae, thank you for giving blood,” Susan said. “Michael not only looks just like you, but thank God, he has your blood type.”

I rolled down my sleeve, covering the bandage. “If he needs anything. Anything. Let me know. I'll give it.”

“You're a good friend.” She hugged me close. “I've often thought about what it must have been like for you to share him with me. I never wanted to let you down.” Fresh tears streamed down her face. “I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to him.”

Losing him once had sealed my heart. I couldn't bear the idea of losing him again. “Can I see him?”

“The doctor wants you to wait until morning. I could only see him for a minute.”

Right. She was his mother. She had the right to the minute I so desperately would have taken. “I can spend the night.”

“Go home, Rae. There's no chance of him waking before morning. I have a cot next to his room and will call if there is any new development.”

I didn't want to leave him. “I'll be back in the morning.”

After hugging her again, I left with Zeb, who said, “Let me drive you back home.”

Nodding, I followed him as we made our way to his truck. Inside, I sat numb and unable to move as he started the engine and turned on the lights. “You both are so lucky to have such a kid in your life right now.”

Surrounded by the darkness and with only the light of the dash, we drove through the city. “Zeb, just take me to the warehouse. I can get my car.”

“I don't mind driving you home, Rae.”

“I know. You've been great. Rock solid. But I need to stop by and see Margaret and Addie. I'll be fine.”

“I'm checking in on you in the morning.”

“I'd like that.”

At the warehouse, he pulled up to the curb and through the large display window I could see Addie, Margaret, and Lisa. The cab was warm and with him close, I felt safe. Secure. “Thanks again, Zeb.”

He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Anytime.”

Avoiding temptation was one of my strong suits, but the idea of kissing him now was just too appealing. I leaned forward. When he didn't move, I pushed past the halfway point and kissed him on the lips. He tasted salty, rough, soft . . . so good. For an instant, he didn't move, and then he raised a hand to my cheek and kissed me back.

Blood warmed and surged in my veins. My senses sharpened. Time slowed. The tumblers of an old lock fell into place.

Slowly, I drew back. “To clarify, that was not just a thank-you kiss.”

The corner of his mouth rose. “Nor was it a you're-welcome kiss.”

“You have to go in and get Eric.”

He traced small circles on my shoulder. “Addie texted. He's asleep in her apartment. I'll get him in the morning. He likes sleeping over.”

“Having family close is good for him.”

He brushed a small strand of hair from her eyes. “Yeah.”

“See you soon.”

“Tomorrow,” he said.

Outside the truck, the night air felt good on my face. Zeb nodded and then shifted into gear and pulled into traffic.

I pushed through the front door of the warehouse.

Addie, Margaret, and Lisa rose immediately. Both looked at me with worry. “Are you all right?” Addie asked.

“I'm fine,” I said.

Lisa shook her head. “Are you sure? You look pale.”

Margaret studied me for a long moment. “Rae, you look ragged as hell.”

“I gave blood at the hospital. Where are the witch bottles, Margaret? I never got to see the one that belonged to the McDonalds.”

“Right over here.” She took me to the long table in the back where she'd moved the bottles. Two were intact and one in pieces.

“Addie, what happened to the Shire bottle?” I asked.

“I accidentally dropped it. It shattered the instant it hit the floor.”

“What was inside?” I was no longer looking at her family bottle but the dark round one in the center. The McDonald bottle. The neck was not as long as the Smyths' and the base was wider. Judging by the shape, it had held port.

“There were nails, buttons, glass, and a note sealed in wax.”

I picked up the bottle and traced my finger around the cork top sealed with wax. “The note. What did yours say?”

“
May I never see my sister again.
Sarah Goodwin was afraid people would realize Faith, the witch, was her sister.”

“So she prayed she would never see her sister again?” I asked.

“That's right.” Addie ran her hands through her dark, curly hair. “Seems like Sarah's wish became her curse.”

“How so?” I held my bottle up to the light. It's brown glass offered no clues about the contents.

“That's what my mother used to say. Generations of Shire women have been bound to their sisters by mental illness.”

I tipped the bottle, listening to the clink of metal. “You and Janet seem to be doing fairly well.”

Addie slid her hands into her pockets, puzzled by my sudden change in tone. “We aren't perfect, but it's the best it's ever been in our lives.”

My grip on the bottle tightened. “And that's good for Carrie and Eric, right?”

“I think so.”

Holding the bottle up higher, I tried once again to will the light into the darkness and reveal its centuries-old secret. It remained smugly opaque. “Margaret, you said that Faith lived with the McDonalds for the rest of her life.”

“That's right.”

“Because of her son.”

“Yeah. She gave him up so he had a better chance at a fulfilling life. But she never could bring herself to leave the only home they had known as a family.”

“Would you have cursed the Godwins, McDonalds, and Smyths?” I asked.

Margaret nodded. “In a New York minute.”

“I think Faith did curse them all,” I said.

“Why do you say that, Rae?” Margaret asked.

“I understand her anger,” I said.

“What was Mistress Smyth's involvement with Faith?” Lisa asked.

“I believe it was Captain Cyrus Smyth who convinced the judge to sell Faith into indenture. She was described as a striking woman, and he knew he could fetch a handsome price for her contract in the colonies,” Margaret said.

“All three families betrayed her,” Lisa whispered.

“Oh, yeah,” Margaret said.

“What did Patience McDonald wish for?” I asked.

“No one really knows,” Margaret said. “But Patience endured a great deal of loss and pain.”

I knew she wished away emotion.

Before I stopped to analyze anything, I opened my hand slowly and let the bottle fall. Almost in slow motion, it drifted through the air, plunging toward the concrete. It hit the wood floor and shattered into five large pieces.

Addie's mouth dropped open.

Lisa closed her eyes.

Margaret's eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Holy shit, Rae. What have you done?”

My Dearest Children,

Marcus came home to the farm today to visit. We spoke of the fine, prosperous tavern he has built. Men of great importance visit his place and talk of politics and the war which we all hope will end soon. Marcus never joined the fighting but I fear he carries secrets for the rebels and takes great risks with his life. Marcus bade me to leave the farm and move into his home. But I told him I could not. I will stay until Patrick returns from the battlefield. He has been at war for nearly six years and I pray for his safe return. Marcus resented my decision and was angry but in the end he understood my resolve.

—F

Rae McDonald

F
RIDAY
, S
EPTEMBER
2, 10:00
P.M.

T
he four of us gawked at the shattered pieces. I wasn't quite sure why I thought breaking the bottle would accomplish anything. Had I expected a rush of euphoria that would sweep away all the heartache, turn back the clock, and prevent the many mistakes that had brought me to this moment?

There was no crack of thunder. No sudden breeze. No shift in the earth. There was only the broken pieces of brown glass scattered around four nails, a button, several pebbles, and what looked like a scroll, rolled up tightly with a wax coating preserving the ink. Just like the Smyth bottle.

Margaret knelt down with her hands in the air. “Don't anyone move! I'm not sure right now if I'm upset because the bottle broke or if I'm excited because I can finally get a good look at its contents.”

Addie backed up slowly and then rushed behind the register, where she kept a small box. “We can put the pieces in this.”

Lisa looked at me as if I'd come unhinged.

Margaret reached in her back pocket, pulled out her cell phone,
and began to snap pictures. “Rae, what the hell happened? Is there something you want to get off your chest?”

“I dropped the bottle on purpose.”

Her gaze locked on me. “Say again?”

“I was hoping it might help.”

“Help what?”

“Break the curse.”

“Break the curse. Shit.” Margaret shook her head as she tucked her phone back in her pocket and reached for the roll of wax likely holding the scroll. “Addie, can you get my white gloves from behind the register, as well as my kit?”

“Right.”

Kit. Like a crime scene investigator, Margaret had her tools of the trade. Addie returned with what looked like a fishing tackle box and plastic gloves.

Tugging on gloves with a snap, Margaret surveyed the scene before her as if it were some kind of homicide. “Addie, tweezers. Best not to touch it with bare hands. The oils on my skin may damage the paper.”

Addie fished out a pair of silver tweezers and handed them to Margaret.

Frowning, Margaret slowly peeled wax from the paper. “Get your camera, Addie. I'll hold it open while you snap a picture and then we can read the images on the phone. Less stress on the paper.”

As much as I wanted to tear open the note, I let Margaret handle it. There was no margin for error.

Addie took pictures, and after ten or fifteen shots, Margaret allowed the paper to roll back up and then very carefully placed all the items into the box.

“What does it say?” I asked. Nervous energy raced through me like a defendant waiting on the jury's verdict. What I'd done had been completely reckless, but I couldn't care less.

Margaret took the phone and studied the images. After a very long moment, she said softly,
“Remove all my pain.”

“Remove all my pain,” I said, mostly to myself. “A very rational wish considering her losses.”

Addie leaned over Margaret's shoulder and studied the image. “You should look at this, Rae.”

Margaret held the phone to her chest. “Honestly, Rae, if I weren't so excited to see what was in that bottle, I'd smack you right now.”

She handed me the camera, and I studied the thin, shaky handwriting. “It was just like the first letters Patience wrote.”

“Not quite as steady,” Margaret said. “I'm guessing she was pretty stressed when she wrote the note wondering if Faith would somehow sense it.”

“Do you think all the women did it together?” Addie asked.

“It's believed these witch bottles were more potent if created at the full moon. And I'm guessing these three women planned to meet at the full moon together,” Margaret said. “Faith was charged in Scotland for witchcraft and then again here in Alexandria where she was examined for signs of witchcraft. That was early November of 1751 and she fled the town within a day or two. My guess is that they created their bottles before the examination.”

“I agree,” Addie said. “Faith was already living with the McDonalds by the December full moon.”

“And if my ancestor's wish of no pain or grief becomes a curse, it stands to reason that if McDonalds don't feel pain, we also don't feel joy.”

“Matchmaker with a heart of stone,” Margaret said. “Sound familiar?”

I shook my head. “I'm not a cold woman. At least I didn't use to be.”

“Losing your sister could have done it,” Margaret said.

“That was horrible. Terrible, but . . .” I looked at the note, terrified Michael might somehow be doomed to my life. “Then I wished away all my emotions.”

Both Addie and Margaret stared at me in silence.

“My sister's death turned my world upside down. I made foolish choices. Got pregnant. My son, Michael, was born just before my seventeenth birthday.” I would say or do anything to make sure Michael was okay. “When I handed him to his adoptive mother, my heart did turn to stone. First Jennifer, now Michael. Maybe the McDonalds can never be happy.”

Addie laid a hand on my shoulder. “That's not true, Rae.”

I shook my head. “Michael's in the hospital. He was supposed to be here tonight but there was a car accident. His mother called me and that's why I left.”

“Is he okay?” Margaret asked.

“They'll know more in the morning. There was nothing else that could be done tonight.”

“Rae,” Margaret said. “You're a strong woman. I can't imagine a kid of yours that can't go the distance.”

Lisa's eyes brimmed with tears. “He's got to be strong, Rae.”

“We McDonalds have never had luck with our children. It seems every generation gets smaller and smaller. I'm the last female and Michael is the last male. So many of us have died far too young. My sister, and when I was very young, my brother.”

“I didn't realize you had a brother,” Margaret said.

“Neither did I until Amelia told me about him. He was just a baby when he died. I certainly understand my mother now more than ever.” My glacier heart, warming now, tingled painfully. “I'm sorry I broke the bottle.”

Margaret shrugged. “Maybe it was meant to be.”

“I'm glad you feel that way,” Lisa said. She picked up her bottle, moved clear of mine, and dropped hers in one fluid motion. It broke into four pieces along with Margaret's composure.

“Good God, woman, have you lost your mind, too?” Margaret
reached for Addie's phone. “My heart is going to stop!” She began snapping pictures.

Lisa looked at me, the broken pieces lying scattered at her feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I killed Jennifer,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“We were driving down the parkway, going way too fast.” Her tone was heavy with sadness.

“That's not what the accident report said, Lisa. You didn't kill her.”

“You don't understand. She wasn't driving too fast. I was.”

“What? No. Your mother said Jennifer was driving.”

“It was my fault. I lost control of the car and crashed into a tree. I dragged Jennifer out of the burning car. She wasn't moving. My head was spinning and I lost consciousness.”

I stood still, trying to steady the weight of her secret. She glanced down at the open palms of her shaking hands. “When I came to, there were rescue crews around us. I heard them say she was dead. We never would have crashed if I hadn't been driving too fast and too drunk.”

I stood still, fearing that if I moved I would break and shatter into a million pieces. Jennifer's best friend in the world, the one person my mother seemed to admire and weep for, had contributed to her death and sent my life spiraling out of control. A thoughtless act had created so much destruction.

I couldn't think. Breathe. I'd lowered my guard for the first time in years and all I felt right now was pain. “I've got to go.”

Lisa blocked my exit. “You can't leave without saying anything, Rae. You can't.”

I tipped back my chin. “What is there to say? You were young, selfish, and your actions caused my sister's death. You would take it all back if you could, but you can't. No one can.”

Tears welled in Lisa's eyes. “I've wished it back a thousand times before.”

“Wishes don't do much good. If anything, they turn on us. Hasn't that been the lesson for the day?”

“Rae, I would never have hurt Jennifer.”

“But you did. You're responsible for this mess. Honestly, Lisa, you couldn't have done a better job of hurting me if you'd planned it. My big regret is that I trusted you. I felt sorry for you.”

The pain sparked, slowly draining the color from her face. “Rae, please.”

I was aware that Margaret and Addie were staring, but I couldn't bear another second of this. Without a word, I turned and left the warehouse.