“None of your business. You didn’t make the cut.”
Part of me thought I should be offended, but I had other things to worry about. “So ... I have a question for you.”
“I figured you weren’t here for a friendly visit. You’re not nearly bored enough for that yet. What’s your question?”
“It’s about Great-Grandma.”
Her eyebrows twitched upward. “My mother? I don’t ever remember you even mentioning my mother.”
“Not your mother. Grandpa’s mother.”
She made a face. “What do you want to know about that woman?”
Her tone told me this was going to be a short conversation. Still, I had to know. It would eat me alive if I didn’t ask, and waiting until Great-Grandma’s annual visit seemed a dangerous proposition. “Alice mentioned something odd to me.”
“Oh, well, if this is a conversation about Alice perhaps I should add some bourbon to my coffee.”
The response made me smile. “It’s not about Alice. It’s about me. She said something and I figured maybe you could confirm it for me.”
“About your great-grandmother?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Lay it on me.”
“Here’s the thing ... um ... it may sound weird. Actually, it’s going to sound totally weird. I don’t know a way around that, though. It’s one of those questions I need answered, and I think you might be the only one who can answer it. Well, Grandpa probably could, but he’s likely to have me thrown in the nuthouse after I ask it. There’s less of a chance that will happen with you.”
“Spit it out, Stormy,” she ordered. “My stories have already started and I want to catch the tail end. There aren’t many soaps left, but I like to stick to my routine.”
I’d forgotten about her stories. She got me into watching General Hospital when I was young. It was a habit I maintained all the way through college. It only fell by the wayside when I started traveling.
“Okay, here’s the thing ... .” I took a long, bracing breath. “It’s come to my attention that Great-Grandma might’ve been a witch.” I felt absolutely absurd saying the words.
Grandma blinked and sipped her coffee. When she spoke, it was with a calm that I admired. “She is a witch.”
“Not the sort of witch who should probably have a B at the beginning of the word, but an actual witch. You know, with magic?”
Grandma nodded. “That’s the sort of witch I’m talking about. Why is this coming up now?”
I was floored. “I ... you ... .”
Grandma made a big show of looking at her phone to check the time. “Witches exist, Stormy. Your grandmother isn’t exactly powerful, but apparently it runs in her family.”
“But ... how is that possible? Wouldn’t we all know if we were witches?”
“I’m not a witch. Your mother isn’t one. Your great-grandmother claims it skips generations. In fact, on her side of the family, I think there are only three or four witches left to propagate the gene pool. I’m perfectly fine with that, by the way.”
I had no idea how I was supposed to respond. “But ... .”
“Is there a reason you’re asking about this now?” She seemed puzzled. “Is this for a book? I don’t want this showing up in a book.”
“Alice and I found an Ouija board in the apartment,” I replied dully. “We got drunk and played with it.”
“Oh.” Grandma’s face split with a wide smile. “That’s how this all came up? I have to admit, I was a little worried there. If it’s just curiosity, it’s not a big deal. Yes, there are witches on your grandfather’s side of the family. They’re few and far between, and the trait seems to have missed our branch of the family completely.”
She puffed out her chest, as if proud of what she was going to say next. “I think my genes saved us all. You should thank me.”
There wasn’t a way out of it, so I merely nodded. “Thank you. You have no idea how happy I am that you saved us.”
“Now, if there’s nothing else, it’s time for my stories. You should stay for a swim. You look as if you need to relieve some stress.”
Oh, she had no idea. Witches were apparently real ... and I knew for certain now that I’d burned Monica’s eyebrows off the previous evening.
19
Nineteen
I was still flustered when I left Grandma to her stories. I needed to think, and I couldn’t do that at the restaurant. On a whim, I headed out to a familiar hiking trail that I visited frequently with Hunter when I was a teenager. The trails were well marked and I could wander without getting lost. I still remembered the area relatively well ... and not just because it was seared into my brain as the first spot where Hunter and I had made out.
I parked in the lot overlooking the Jordan River Valley and trudged to the trail. There were no other cars in the parking lot. There were different spots to park along the highway and join the trail. I’d learned that a time or two as a randy teenager when Hunter and I would visit the spot to hang out in private.
Even in the middle of summer, the view was breathtaking. It was better in the fall, when the colors were changing, but that would happen soon enough. I wanted to enjoy the mild weather when I could. The leaves wouldn’t turn for another three months. I was fine with that. There was plenty to look at before the weather made its inevitable turn.
The first place I stopped was one of the slow-moving creeks that trickled into the river. I remembered it exactly, and other than a few bushes here and there, the spot was the same. It made me yearn for the past, which wasn’t all that surprising given everything that had happened since I’d returned. It was normal to wish for a simpler time ... and that’s what I desperately wanted now.
I remembered spending afternoons here after school in the fall. Hunter would wait for me to get out of my last class and then drive to the lot, where we would stare at the vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow while holding hands and plotting out our future. I never once questioned why Hunter would want to come out here rather than hang out in his warm home. There was no real warmth in his home — it was all a façade — and he needed space to grow. He’d always wanted me in that space ... and I was happy to oblige.
This place became a sanctuary of sorts, which was amusing given the name: Deadman’s Hill. There was history that went with it, but I couldn’t remember it. We spent hours laughing about the possibility of it being haunted while walking the trails. Now, given everything I’d discovered, it didn’t seem nearly as funny.
“This just bites.” I rubbed my forehead as I stared at the water. The goal was to clear my head and find some peace. Instead, I was dwelling on what my grandmother had told me, even though she hadn’t exactly provided the answers I needed. She seemed so appalled at the thought of anyone following in Great-Grandma’s footsteps that I’d covered to the best of my ability. Not only was I fearful, I was embarrassed. What would this ultimately mean for me?
The creek, of course, could provide no answers, so I dusted off my hands on the seat of my pants, determined to move on to another location. I almost jumped out of my skin when I found Hunter watching me from about twenty feet away. He had a stick in his hand, and a surprised look on his face.