wicked witches 06.9 - you only witch once (3 page)

“I can’t ban a child simply because she doesn’t like my child,” I said. “That’s not fair.”

“Who cares about fair? Lila goes out of her way to make Bay miserable,” Terry said. “The kid deserves a few days of peace.”

“I think you’re saying that because you spoil her rotten,” I said, smiling. Terry doted on all three of the girls, but he shared a special bond with Bay.

“I don’t spoil her,” Terry said. “She’s just a little angel.”

“Well, my little angel acted like a dark devil when she found out we were running the camp this week,” I said.

“Why?”

“She’s embarrassed,” I said. “She doesn’t want her mother to be the one in charge.”

“It’s her age,” Terry said, patting my shoulder. “No kid that age wants their mother around. This is when kids start asserting their independence. That’s all she’s doing.”

“I hope so.”

“All kids pull away,” Terry said. “Most of them come back, though. Bay is one of the best kids in the world. She’s always going to come back.”

“If people like Lila Stevens don’t make it too hard for her to come back,” I added.

Terry sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. Hints of gray were starting to show at the temples, but he was still handsome. “Bay is a fighter,” he said. “She’ll find the strength to do what she has to do where Lila is concerned. I have faith. You should, too.”

“I have faith that she’s stronger than she realizes,” I said, “but I need her to realize it.”

“She will.”

Bay picked that moment to get up from the table. She turned her head sharply when Lila and Rosemary dissolved into loud guffaws. I had no idea what they’d said, but it clearly bothered Bay. She was still trying to shake it off when she moved up beside me and tossed her plate into the garbage bag at my feet.

“How was your lunch?” I asked.

“It was good,” Bay said. “You made the potato salad.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can always tell the difference between your potato salad and Marnie’s,” she said, shrugging.

“Mine is better, right?” Marnie said, poking Bay in the side in an attempt to get her to smile.

“They’re both good,” Bay said, rolling her eyes. “In fact, they’re both equally good.”

“Oh, such a smart cookie,” Marnie said, tweaking her nose.

Terry finished his lunch and tossed his plate in the garbage bag. After wiping his hands with a paper napkin, he opened his arms to give Bay a hug. She stepped into his wide embrace wordlessly. He rubbed her back for a moment. “How is my favorite girl?”

After a moment, Bay pulled away and fixed a tight smile on her face. “I’m good.”

“Good,” Terry said. “Make sure you stay away from those boys I brought. They’re bad news.”

“I thought you said they were good kids,” I said.

“They are good kids,” Terry said. “They’re not good enough for my Bay, though.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Bay said. “I’m not interested in those boys. They’re all over there making barking noises whenever one of us walks by.”

Terry frowned. “I’ll talk to them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bay said. She turned to me, weary eyes making me cringe internally. She was too young to look so tired. “Can I go by the lake for a few minutes?”

I nodded. “Do you want your cousins to go with you?”

“I just want to be alone.”

“Don’t go in the water,” I warned.

“I don’t want to go in the water,” Bay said. “I only want to talk to the ghost.”

I froze, glancing around worriedly. Had anyone heard her?

“What ghost?” Terry asked, not missing a beat. He was aware of Bay’s abilities, and he didn’t once question them or cast aspersions on her.

“It’s some woman.”

“Do you recognize her?” I asked.

Bay shook her head. “She’s not fully formed. She’s either new or hiding.”

I was caught. People thought Bay was weird because she walked around all day talking to herself. In reality, she was talking to the ghosts that only she and Aunt Tillie could see. I didn’t want to change who she was, but I also didn’t want to give Lila and Rosemary any excuses to go after her. “I’m not sure … .”

“It’s fine,” Terry said, patting the top of her head. “We’ll keep everyone away from you. Just keep it quiet.”

Bay nodded at him, the smile she shot him so earnest it almost broke my heart. “Okay.” She shuffled off.

When she was gone, I turned to Terry. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“I think she’s a good person,” he said. “You have to let her be who she is. This is who she is.”

He was right, but letting her go off by herself still felt wrong.

Three

“Maybe I should take her home.”

I knew the words were a mistake as soon as I uttered them. Still, something in my heart warned me that Bay shouldn’t be here.

“You can’t take her home,” Marnie said, keeping her voice low. “She’s already here. If she leaves now, everyone will know that something happened. It will only draw more attention to her.”

“Marnie is right,” Twila said. “If Bay leaves now, Lila will think she drove her away and that will give her power.”

“I don’t really care about power,” I said. “I care about Bay. Can’t she have one weekend without a ghost showing up to ruin everything?”

“Nothing has been ruined,” Marnie said. “Everyone is having a good time.”

I looked toward the lake where Bay walked the shoreline, her head down so no one could see her lips moving. She was making a big show about studying the rocks on the ground, but I knew what she was doing. A quick glance in Clove and Thistle’s direction told me they knew, too. They were heading in our direction.

“Where are you two going?” Marnie asked, snagging Thistle’s arm when she tried to move around her.

“We’re going to hang out with Bay,” Thistle said. “She shouldn’t be over there alone.”

“She’s looking at the rocks.”

“We all know that’s not what she’s doing,” Thistle said, yanking her arm away.

“Just leave her alone,” I said. “We don’t want to draw attention to her.”

“That’s why we should be over there,” Clove said. “People will think she’s talking to us.”

I gave in, mostly because what Clove said made sense. “Go ahead, but don’t interrupt Bay.”

“We’re not two years old,” Thistle said. “We know the drill.”

“Thank you, Thistle,” I said.

“You’re welcome.” Thistle and Clove scampered off, and I watched them take up position near Bay. They immediately launched into some conversation only they could hear. Bay barely acknowledged their presence.

“She’s pretty intent on whatever she’s doing,” Twila said. “Who do you think she’s talking with?”

That was a pretty good question. “I don’t know. No one lives out here. Has anyone ever died out here?”

“I have no idea,” Marnie said. “If the ghost is new, maybe we should be looking for a body.”

“It’s probably old,” I said. “Who would have died out here recently?”

“Well, Donna Wilder is missing,” Twila said.

My heart rolled and I shifted slightly so I could study Twila. When she’s the one who comes up with the answer, you know you’re in trouble. “You don’t think it’s Donna, do you?”

“She’s been missing for more than a week now,” Marnie said. “Maybe she came up here to get the camp in order and … I don’t know … something happened to her.”

“Usually people only come back as ghosts if something violent happened to them,” I pointed out. “Are you saying you think she was murdered?”

“Calm down,” Marnie chided. “We don’t even know it’s Donna. We’ll talk to Bay later and see whether she knows who it is. We can’t freak out before we know what we’re dealing with.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“You always freak out.”

“I do not.”

“You do, too.”

“We all freak out,” Twila said, stepping between us in an attempt to keep the peace. “We can’t do this now. We have to focus on the camp. That’s our main job for now.”

“And what happens if there’s really a dead body out here?” Marnie asked. “What do we do then?”

“I guess it’s good we have a police detective right across the lake,” I said, gesturing toward Terry. He sat at the table with the boys, and whatever story he was reenacting had them in stitches. “If there really is a body out here, he’ll be able to deal with it.”

“What if there’s a murderer out here?” Twila asked.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” I said. “Any murderer who comes after us is going to realize he’s bitten off a little more than he can chew.”

“You’ve got that right,” Marnie said. “Come on. Let’s get the lunch stuff cleaned up. Terry wants to take the kids swimming, and then we’ll have a big bonfire after dinner tonight.”

“Terry is staying here all day?” I was surprised.

“He said he wants to stay close to Bay,” Marnie said. “I think he’s as worried about her as you are.”

I didn’t think that was possible. “Okay, let’s get cleaned up. At least if the kids are in the water we don’t have to worry about Thistle setting Lila on fire as retribution.”

“No, we only have to worry about her drowning Lila,” Marnie said.

I sighed. “Someone find Aunt Tillie. Make sure she keeps an eye on the girls in the water. If someone drowns, we’re never going to be able to chaperone anything again.”

“That sounds chaper-fun,” Marnie said, grinning.

“OKAY,
everyone get settled around the fire,” I instructed.

The rest of the afternoon was mostly uneventful. When I questioned Bay about the ghost, she seemed more confused than anything else. She said the woman wouldn’t talk, but kept pointing to the far side of the lake. I didn’t know what it meant any more than Bay.

After a raucous dinner – an afternoon of swimming turning the boys into excited little monsters – it was time for a bonfire and ghost stories. Terry would have to take the boys back across the lake before it got too late, but for now everyone was having a good time.

“Who knows a ghost story?” I asked.

Lila’s hand shot up. Of course.

“She didn’t say skank stories,” Thistle said. “No one wants to hear your stupid stories, Lila.”

“Thistle,” Twila snapped. “Don’t speak that way. That’s not how I raised you.”

“Yeah, Thistle,” Lila sang. “That’s not how Ronald McDonald raised you.”

Twila scowled. “Go nuts, Thistle.”

I grabbed Twila’s arm. “That is not good parenting.”

“I don’t care,” Twila said. “I’ve always taught Thistle to fight against evil. I can’t stop her from doing that now.”

I started to move in Thistle’s direction, worried she would take her mother’s words to heart, but Terry cut me off and settled in the spot next to Twila’s wild child.

“You know that killing her will only result in you going to jail, don’t you?” Terry asked.

“I think I’m okay with that,” Thistle said.

Terry smiled. “How about you tell the ghost story instead,” he suggested. “I’ll bet that busy mind of yours can come up with some good stuff.”

That was an understatement. Thistle once told Clove that gnomes lived in our basement and they fed off the lint between our toes. Clove refused to walk barefoot in the house for a month because she was convinced the gnomes would crawl between her toes and chew her foot off.

“I don’t want to tell a story,” Thistle said. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, you’re in a mood,” Terry said, tousling Thistle’s hair. “You’re just not in a fun mood. Who else wants to tell a story? Boys, do you know any stories?”

“I once heard a story about a woman so ugly she turned men to stone,” one of the boys said.

“Was her name Lila?” one of the other boys asked.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud. In her efforts to entice the boys to her side earlier in the day, Lila had done the opposite. She’d insisted she couldn’t get wet, and refused to put on a bathing suit. When you’re dealing with fourteen-year-old boys, they want to have fun, not listen to a spoiled brat complain for two hours.

“Ho, ho, ho,” Lila sneered. “That’s so funny I forgot to laugh.”

“And you’re so ugly you could break mirrors,” Thistle said.

I needed to stop this before it got out of hand. “No one knows a ghost story? Really?”

“I know someone who knows a ghost story,” Thistle said, turning to me.

“Who?”

Thistle pointed to Aunt Tillie, who was watching the show from a lawn chair on the far side of the fire.

“Absolutely not,” I said, emphatically shaking my head. “If she tells you a ghost story you’ll be up all night thinking you see zombies in every shadow.”

“Oh, whatever,” Lila scoffed. “She’s an old lady. How scary can her stories be?”

Aunt Tillie arched an eyebrow. I could tell she wasn’t particularly happy about entertaining forty teenagers, but her hatred of Lila made the thought of scaring her a definite perk.

“I’ll tell a story,” Aunt Tillie said.

I pressed my eyes shut briefly. This wouldn’t end well. Still, Lila Stevens needed to be taken down a peg or two … or ten. “Try to keep it clean,” I said.

“Meaning?”

“No weird stories about demons impregnating virgins and the fetuses eating their way out of the mothers from the inside,” I said.

“I told that story once,” Aunt Tillie said. “I wanted the girls to know what would happen if they didn’t share their Halloween candy with me.”

“Yes, well … pick something clean.”

“And scary,” Thistle said, casting a dark look in Lila’s direction.

“I think I know just the story,” Aunt Tillie said, leaning forward in her chair. “Who here has ever had a china doll?”

Oh, no. I knew this story. This definitely wasn’t going to end well.

“WELL,
Terry left with the boys and all the girls are in their cabins,” Marnie said, pulling the curtain back in our small cabin and surveying the quiet outdoors.

“I saw the boys leave in their canoes,” Twila said, giggling. “They kept looking over their shoulders in case a china doll was waiting to scratch their eyes out.”

“Making the doll look like Lila was a nice touch,” Marnie said. “If the boys weren’t suspicious of her before, they definitely are now.”

“A lot of the girls are afraid of her, too,” Twila said. “She’s not the queen bee right now. That’s probably going to ruin her week.”