* * *
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Now Etta’s mama found her on the bathroom floor and scooped her up like she was nothing more than a baby again, not a girl of seventeen. Her mama hadn’t seen her in several days because Etta had been in and out of the house and off with Jackson. She grunted as her mother carried her back into the bedroom.
“Something’s wrong with my heart,” Etta whispered. The words jagged rocks scratching at her throat as she struggled to get them out. “It’s burning.”
Mama inspected her, pulling down her nightgown and gawking at the sight of her chest. “What happened with Jackson?”
“Why?” Etta croaked. “Shouldn’t you call the ambulance? Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?”
“No medicine from that place can fix this.” She ran her cold fingertips across Etta’s achy skin. It was a momentary comfort. “Now, tell me what happened.”
“We broke up.”
A gasp escaped Mama’s mouth. “Why?”
“I don’t really know. I don’t under—”
“What you mean, you don’t really know? This isn’t possible.”
“What does it have to do with . . .” Etta sucked in a deep breath as pain erupted through her.
“You need to go see the conjure woman, Madame Peaks. Only she can stop this.” Mama pushed the frizzy curls off Etta’s forehead.
The picture of the conjure woman drifted into her mind like a reflection broken into shards. A pair of filmy eyes. A pursed red mouth. Luminous brown skin. A scarf wrapped around her head like a dollop of cream. Etta had little-girl memories of the woman—her mama dragging her there when her daddy left, to ask for a root to bring him back; the way her house seemed tilted, almost; and how at thirteen, she and Jackson had found a weird map from the woman in his mama’s basement.
“He was your soul mate.”
Mama had told her the stories of how she and Jackson’s mama had their stars cast, and Etta had felt like her connection to him fit, slid into place like when the right puzzle piece finds its match. The pull always tugged at her whenever she thought of him, whenever she saw him, whenever he showed up in her dreams; she had to see him, touch his skin, wrap herself in his scent.
“Your skin’s yellowing. Your heart is dying fast.”
“I don’t understand why this is happening.” Tears flooded Etta’s cheeks. “I don’t even understand why we . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought of the word sent another bolt of pain through her.
“When soul mates break up, the shock in the universe has consequences.” Mama rubbed as many tears as she could from Etta’s cheeks, then left the room for a moment.
If Etta’s pulse could race, it would’ve as her mind filled with worries. She’d always known her family’s and town’s superstitions were more than just that, and that roots and conjure were as everyday as the herbs in most folks’ kitchen gardens. But the magic, if you could call it that, always felt like something far away, a horizon she could never touch, a thing that didn’t affect her life. Or so she’d thought.
Mama returned with steaming mugs.
“Drink this,” she ordered.
Etta took long, slow sips. “What was I supposed to do?” She balled her fists but didn’t have the energy to bang the bedside. Her heart steadily slowed a little after each labored beat.
“You’re supposed to stay together. You were matched. You were destined.” Mama touched Etta’s cheek, her brown fingers warm from the mugs. “You’re supposed to make sure it worked.”
“Why is it all on me?” Etta’s lungs squeezed, and she coughed. “What will happen to him?”
“He’ll get what’s coming. Worse than a heart dying.” Mama rushed forward with a bowl. Tiny trickles of dust the color of pulverized rubies made their way out of Etta’s nose and mouth. Mama caught each little bead for safekeeping. “You must hold these close, otherwise she won’t be able to put your heart back together again.”
“When’s the last time you saw Madame Peaks? What if she’s not even alive anymore?”
“She’s not a person who dies, and stays dead.” Mama closed her eyes for a moment before answering. “I’ve seen her three times. The first when I was pregnant with you. Jackson’s mama, Mrs. Mary, came with me. Y’all were due a week and three days apart. And we’d been dreaming of y’all together. Best friends. Partners. I knew it was the right thing to do to have your stars cast.”
“You’ve told me this story a hundred times.”
“Listen again.” Mama nibbled her bottom lip, puffy from the hot tea. “The second time I saw her was when you were around four years old. Just to make sure it had took. She said everything was as it should be, as it had been written. And the last, right after your daddy left us.”
“How do I find her?” Etta replied, out of breath.
“With conjure. With roots.”
It felt impossible.
“Why’d you even do this, Mama?” Etta winced, the burning sensation in her chest back.
“I never wanted you to have to be alone like me.”
* * *
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Etta kissed Jackson first. They’d just turned eleven years old that summer and they were out on his grandfather’s farm, which touched the back of her grandmother’s farm. She’d conscripted him into helping her collect materials for her next diorama. She loved creating little scenes in shoeboxes and hatboxes and fruit crates. Really, any box she could find, she’d make a little world within it. She liked to create tiny visions of the future she wanted—her far away from this too-hot place, her pressing her feet onto the cobblestones of old cities, trying to absorb magic through her shoes, her being able to sketch new skylines to make replicas of later.
They’d climbed as high as they could in her favorite magnolia tree because she’d wanted one of the white flowers from the very top—the perfect ones that hadn’t been messed with by squirrels.
Jackson sat beside Etta, brown legs dangling and blending with the rich color of the tree boughs. He looked around for one of the flowers. “I think they’re all gone. Blown away.”
“I’m too late,” Etta had said.
Jackson stood, then climbed onto a higher branch and disappeared into the leaves.
“Come back. There’s nothing up there.” Etta counted to ten, but Jackson didn’t return. “Jackson Eugene Williamson, I’m coming after you.” She squeezed a nearby branch, preparing to hoist herself up and follow him, but he jumped back down beside her, holding an abandoned bird’s nest.