Popcorn Thief (11 page)

“Never had those either,” Julie said.

“So Lexine brought over a just a handful. I made fun of
them, I’ll admit. They was so tiny! But she served them up with some flavored
ice. We sat out back, overlooking the fields, and just talked while the stars
came out.” It really was one of his nicer memories, both of them talking about
the future, where they’d be in a few years.

“That’s lovely,” Julie said. “I’ll always remember the night
Lexine taught me how to make a proper smudging stick.”

“A what?” Franklin asked.

“When you want to purify a place, you burn a smudge stick,
wave the sacred smoke into the corners and call the gods to sanctify the area,”
Julie said seriously.

“What gods?” Franklin asked, wary. What had Lexine been
getting into with this group?

“Like Bridget, the goddess of hospitality, and Eleanor, the
goddess of health. So your house or your room or your sanctuary will be
welcoming and open to the right spirits,” Julie said seriously.

“Huh,” Franklin said. “Do you often work with spirits?” he
asked, since Julie seemed to believe in them, at any rate.

“I’m not as sensitive as Lexine was,” Julie admitted. “She
always knew where the soul of a place was, or what it was feeling.”

“That was her gift,” Franklin said.

Julie threw him a quick smile. “Yes, yes it was. She said
you weren’t bad at it, either.”

“Spirits was more Lexine’s area, not mine,” Franklin said
cautiously.

They sped through the dark in silence for a bit before Julie
asked, “So what is your area? If spirits were Lexine’s?”

“You know. This and that,” Franklin said, not feeling like
he could answer.

“There are folks in town who say you speak to ghosts,” Julie
said quietly.

“Maybe,” Franklin admitted. “Maybe not. I ain’t been seeing
many recently. Not since I got hurt.” He didn’t want to tell her about the
creature, or how it had affected him.

“That makes sense,” Julie said seriously. “It wasn’t just
your body that was hurt, but your heart, too. The thing that attacked you was
trying to suck out your soul.”

“Well, it didn’t succeed,” Franklin told her. He’d see his
ghosts again, help them pass along. He’d get back to doing his duty.

He’d see Mama at least one more time.

* * *

The meeting that night was held in a converted shack in the
backyard of another member’s house—Eddie, as she introduced herself, an
older white woman with tanned, leathery skin, wild white curls, and blue eyes.

“Delighted to meet you,” Eddie said as she greeted them at
the gate to the yard. “Y’all can just go on back. The space’s already been
sanctified, blessed by the spirits and the gods.”

“Blessed be,” Julie said in reply.

“Ah, thanks,” Franklin said. He really didn’t know what this
group was all about. He wasn’t ever going to tell Preacher Sinclair about them.

The shack wasn’t too big, smaller than a one-car garage. It
had the look of an artist’s studio, like something Adrianna would pester Ray
into building, with red-painted wooden shingles covering the outer walls, white
trim, and a gray tiled roof. Sweet incense oozed from it, floating over the wet
grass. A large sun, plain-looking, made out of baked reddish pottery, hung on
one side of the door, while a matching moon hung on the other side. Pretty
white Christmas-tree lights outlined the doorframe.

Dark black curtains covered the door. Julie reached beyond
Franklin and held them to one side, gesturing for him to go in first.

Franklin reminded himself that Lexine had trusted this
group. He took a deep breath of the clean night air, ducked his head, and
walked in.

Inside were almost a dozen men and women, all crowded around
the edges of the room. Work benches lined two of the walls, and under the smell
of the incense came the metallic scent of shellac and paint. A round table
covered with an off-white tablecloth stood in the center of the room. Incense smoked
from a flat, black-metal plate. Four white crystals, each the size of
Franklin’s fist, were spread out like a new-age cross on one side.

In the center of the table lay a knife. The blade wasn’t
flat, but made up of three points, more like a pick. The handle was black,
wrapped in leather, and the iron looked cold and hard. It gave Franklin the
willies. There was something to that blade, something not of this world.

Something not entirely good.

What the hell was this group?

Julie came to stand next to him. She introduced him around
the room as Lexine’s cousin, but Franklin couldn’t hold onto any of their
names. Finally, Eddie came in, trailing behind one more man. “Let’s all get
together, one big circle,” Eddie directed.

Franklin shuffled to the side. Julie took one hand, and the
woman next to him took the other.

Eddie cleared her throat, then began to speak. It wasn’t
quite singing, but it wasn’t quite speaking either. Franklin liked the way she
spoke, and wanted to just go on listening to her. She was better than Preacher
Sinclair, that was for sure. Her voice was welcoming and warm.

“Oh
Goddess Mother

May your gaze be kind

And your heart open

To those gathered here

Bring them into your
arms

Let them know your
blessings

Comfort them

And help them to see
you and your works

Every day

We stand in the circle
of your light

We bring our open
hearts to you

We release our
suffering from clenched fists

We share the joy with
one another that comes from living every day

Welcome us, O Goddess
Mother

As we welcome each
other

Blessed be.”

Everyone in the circle responded with, “Blessed be.”

Franklin didn’t understand why he felt calmer. But
everything settled down inside of him, like there had been something buzzing
along his skin that had quieted.

Was Eddie gifted? Was she special, like him and Lexine?

“We’re here to celebrate the life of our sister, Lexine, as
well as to mourn her passing,” Eddie continued. She led them in another prayer,
where she called out a line, and they all repeated it. Franklin followed along
as best he could, though he felt strange calling on goddesses and gods whose
names he didn’t recognize.

But he could tell that these people had their hearts in the
right place. They all mourned Lexine. Franklin’s chest felt weighted with
grief. He was gonna miss her, how she’d teased him, as well as how she’d shared
her spirits with him. She was the only one who’d really understood.

“Though our hearts are full of sorrow, we need to fill them
with love,” Eddie stated.

Here we go
.
Franklin didn’t roll his eyes, but Eddie was starting to sound like Preacher
Sinclair.

“We need to forgive,” Eddie intoned. “Both ourselves for our
failings, as well as those who have wronged us.

Forgive?
Franklin
nearly snorted. Not likely. He needed to kill that thing that had killed her,
before it got to him and his cousin and the people he cared about. He didn’t
care about the sheriff and his ideas of Earl Jackson killing Lexine. It had
been that spirit.

“Forgive,” Eddie said again. “And let the blessings flow
instead.”

Franklin felt like Eddie was talking straight to him. How
could he forgive? That thing wasn’t even human. He didn’t blame that Earl
Jackson for Lexine’s death, no, it was that creature. He knew it. It
hated
all those that were special, every
person who brought light into the world and…

“Let go of hate,” Eddie said. “Let go of the pettiness of
hate. Let go of the pain and the fear.”

Franklin paused. Hate was useful, right? His hate wasn’t
like the creature’s. Not at all. He shifted from one foot to the other,
uncomfortable. When he looked over at Eddie, he saw her swirling in light. It reminded
him of Lexine’s spirits: Franklin couldn’t always tell what he was looking at,
could just feel, sometimes, what they’d been. Like the soul of that old mill,
or the spirits in the trees.

With Eddie, Franklin couldn’t tell what she was, or was
supposed to be. He just saw her in the light.

However, Eddie didn’t see the lights around her. She moved
one way, while they moved another. It was like they tried to push on her, but
she didn’t feel them.

Franklin realized that if Eddie had been following them,
she’d have that same grace that Darryl had had. If only she’d open her eyes and
see.

But why couldn’t she see? Maybe it was all the goddess worship.
Franklin knew his gift came from God. Or maybe she’d just refused her gift, not
wanting to deal with all her friends and relatives thinking she was crazy.

“Let’s pray for healing,” Eddie finally said.

Everyone dropped hands and folded their arms over their
chests. Franklin did the same, feeling foolish. They chanted something low and
smooth, syllables Franklin didn’t understand.

While most people had their eyes closed, Franklin kept his
open, curious.

Eddie walked around the circle, stopping in front of each
person, then waving her hands in front of them. She didn’t follow the same
pattern: Sometimes she started at the head and followed the body down,
sometimes she just did circles around their belly.

When Eddie got to Franklin, she focused on his heart.

The lights around Eddie grew brighter, and she moved in time
with them for once, pushing warmth and strength inside of Franklin, healing
something inside of him. He felt like he’d just taken a spoonful of warm honey,
the sweetness lingering in his mouth while his insides were coated with golden
light.

No wonder Lexine had kept coming back to this group, if
Eddie could sometimes tap into her powers and do that.

Maybe there was something to this pagan thing, but Franklin
didn’t think he’d be leaving the church anytime soon.

After the service, Franklin went over to talk with Eddie. “Thank
you for having me, ma’am,” he told her, shaking her hand. “And thank you for
the healing.”

“You’re welcome to come back,” Eddie said, beaming at him.

“Y’all know Lexine was special, right?” Franklin asked
Eddie.

“She was,” Eddie said. “She could always find the heart of
the goddess, in whatever location we prayed in, whether it was here, or out in
the fields, or in the woods near her place.”

Franklin nodded. “She was good at seeing spirits. You could
see ’em too, you know.” Franklin wasn’t sure exactly what Eddie’s gift was, beyond
the healing, but she could be doing everything better, that he knew.

“The goddess moves through me every day,” Eddie said. “Showing
me miracles and the divine.”

It felt like an answer Eddie had rehearsed, like the same
response Franklin gave folks when they asked if he was still single. “Well,
that’s nice,” Franklin said. “But I think your goddess could show you more, if
you was willing.”

Eddie shook her head, smiling. “Lexine told me the same
thing. But I’m too old to change my ways.”

“I understand,” Franklin said. And he did. Taking on a gift
like his or Lexine’s meant a lot of work. It also meant not fitting in, or not
as well, with regular folk. But he’d always seen it as his duty, too—not
something he could refuse. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he added.
He’d like to introduce Eddie to Adrianna. Eddie was like solid mountain, hefty,
and not easily moved, while Adrianna floated through life. If they could work together,
they’d probably be something even more special.

“Thank you,” Franklin told Julie as they got in the car.
“For bringing me there.”

“You’re welcome! I know the group really appreciated you
coming, since you’re Lexine’s family and all.”

They drove through the darkness in silence. The night had
cooled off enough that they’d opened the windows, using the two-by-fifty-five
AC.

“Do you think you’ll want to come back?” Julie asked after a
bit.

Franklin hesitated. “I’m not sure it’s the right place for
me,” he said. He’d never tell her outright that he’d never go back.

“That’s what I figured,” Julie said. “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

“Whatdaya mean?” Franklin asked. He’d actually liked Eddie,
even if she’d refused her gifts.

“Lexine said it was hard to see her closed off that way,”
Julie said.

Franklin shrugged. “A gift is sometimes a burden. It ain’t
always easy to carry.”

“You see things for your gift, don’t you?” Julie guessed.
“Like Lexine.”

“Maybe,” Franklin said. “And maybe not.” He wasn’t admitting
his gift to a pretty white nurse, especially since he did want to see her
again.

Julie left it at that, and they didn’t say much else until
she’d dropped him off in the driveway.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Julie called out her window.

“Wouldn’t mind what?” Franklin asked.

“Wouldn’t mind if you had a gift. Or if you called me again.
Goodnight.”

“Night,” Franklin said, standing in his gravel driveway,
watching her kick rocks as she climbed back up to the road.

Something cold moved down Franklin’s back. Fearfully, he
turned around.

Sweet Bess stood near the door, nosing along the base of the
steps, not looking like she was going to attack him, but just hanging out in
the yard.

Franklin watched her with relief.

His gift was back. And he bet, so was Mama.

THE NEXT MORNING, FRANKLIN STOOD In
his own tiny bathroom and removed the bandages from the wounds along his arms.
The swelling had gone down a lot, and the skin looked only a little puckered
under the stitches. It took some effort, and a long ruler from Mama’s room, but
he managed to pull off all the bandages on his back as well. Those wounds
didn’t look as swollen or bad. Maybe it was because it had just been glass, and
not the creature.

Today, Franklin got to take a real bath. He didn’t want to
risk a shower, and wasn’t sure how that spray would feel. But soaking in a tub?
He could do that all morning long—that is, until he had to go to church.

After Franklin filled the tub, he gingerly set one foot in
the water, then the other.
God
, the
water felt so good. He crouched down and settled himself in. It was going to be
another hot one today, but he still enjoyed the heat from the water, soaking
into his skin, soothing his bones. His back itched a bit in the water, which
he’d added Epsom Salts to. But it was a good itch, like muscles ready to be
used after a rest.

With reluctance, Franklin got out of the tub when his alarm
dinged. He patted himself carefully—nothing bleeding, nothing
torn—and got dressed in a good white shirt and gray trousers. He wasn’t
going to wear his suit today.

Sweet Bess was the first thing Franklin saw in the back when
he opened his bedroom shade.
God damn it
.
She was rooting around one of the stalks along the end of the row. She’d been
the one who’d been knocking his corn down, one stalk at a time.

Franklin pounded on the window, but the sow didn’t even look
up. He debated opening it, sticking his head out and yelling at her, but he
doubted that would do any good either.

Why was she destroying his crop? Was it because he’d
slaughtered her that spring? Or was there some other reason?

“Morning, Mama,” Franklin said as he came in the kitchen.
Mama paced in front of the stove, agitated. She’d been fine the night before. What
was going on? He still didn’t know what she wanted from him, or why she’d been
gone. Mostly, just impatient and angrier than usual.

Was it something to do with the creature? She sure was
acting different.

Franklin knew Mama was worried about him, about what the thing
was intending on doing to him. But she couldn’t help and she didn’t have any
ideas how to stop it. He supposed that could agitate a body.

But somehow, it felt bigger. Like something more was
occurring.

“Mama, I need to make breakfast,” Franklin said when he
approached the stove with his egg.

Mama kept pacing right in front of it: Two steps, turn, then
two steps.

Franklin couldn’t get near the stove without running into
her, or maybe even
through
her, and
he did
not
want to go through that
again.

With a sigh, Franklin put away his eggs and just got out
bread and peanut butter instead. It wouldn’t be as satisfying without the egg,
and without being fried, but it’d have to do. Since he’d been able to take a
bath that morning (it had been so good—like proof that God still loved
him) he didn’t have a lot of time.

Mama didn’t stop her pacing when Franklin stood next to the
stove, at the sink, washing off his plate. He kept a close eye on her, ready to
move out of the way if she came too close.

Gloria was nowhere to be seen. Franklin figured he’d run
into her later that day. He was gonna have to go back to Karl’s place, see if
he could take a look at Karl’s fields, find out what the creature was so
interested in.

For the first time in over a week, Franklin got out his
bicycle. He checked the chain, making sure the gears still spun, before he
climbed on and rode out the driveway.

Before Franklin had reached the end of the lane and gotten
to the road, he was already panting. Maybe the really hot bath that morning
hadn’t been smart. He was tired and perspiring through both his undershirt and
his shirt. It was like all the heat he’d absorbed that morning was now pouring
back out his skin.

By the time Franklin reached the church, he wanted to turn
around and just ride back home. His back ached from where his shirt stuck to
his skin, his arms were on fire from supporting his weight on the handles, and
he felt like an old man, out of breath and strength.

May peeled away from the group she’d been standing with and
made a beeline toward Franklin. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she
demanded. She wore a sleeveless white blouse with a red skirt that would have
been more appropriate for a Friday night than a Sunday morning.

“Going to church?” Franklin asked. What else was he supposed
to be doing?

“We went by to pick you up,” May said. “But you weren’t
there. Nothing was broken inside, but I had no idea where you’d gotten to.”

“I’m okay,” Franklin said, realizing that May had been
scared that the creature had gotten him. “Really. It’s okay.”

“That’s good, ’cause I’m about to take a wooden cooking
spoon and beat your backside,” May said, glaring.

“Could I get a ride home?” Franklin asked softly.

“We’ll see,” she said firmly. But she did take him by an
uninjured part of his arm and tugged him along. “Let’s get you inside, at
least. You didn’t pull any of your stitches, now, did you?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Franklin assured her. He gratefully
stepped into the air conditioning of the church, letting the coolness bless his
skin.

“So how was Miss Julie?” May asked with grin.

“Now wouldn’t you like to know?” Franklin teased.

“I know nothing happened,” May said. “You’re too much of a
school-boy, and the pair of you had just gone to a prayer meeting. So tell me
about that.”

Franklin wasn’t sure what he could tell anyone about the
meeting. “We met at this real nice lady’s house, stood in a circle, held hands,
and said prayers.” That was the truth, at any rate.

“I thought she was taking you to a witch’s coven, or
something,” May said, disappointed. “I know it weren’t no God-fearing group.”

“Wait, you knew?” Franklin asked.

“Gottcha!” May said triumphantly. “I didn’t know, not for
sure,” May admitted. “I knew Lexine had a group like that. I just bet it was
the same one. So what was it like?”

Franklin shrugged. “Different. Nice. Those folks loved
Lexine, and they were mourning her, in their own way.”

“I miss her,” May admitted.

“So do I,” Franklin said. Lexine would never have shown up
for church—once she’d come of an age when she didn’t have to go, she’d
stopped. But she’d show up afterward, over at Aunt Jasmine’s house, to have
dinner with them all, play with the kids, and hang out late into the night, talking.

“Has she found a better place?” May asked seriously.

“She ain’t haunting me, if that’s what you’re asking,”
Franklin said.

“You remember that businessman? His company is now trying to
get Ma to sell Lexine’s land to them.”

“Does Aunt Jasmine own that land, now?” Franklin asked as he
followed May to a pew.

“She’s going to,” May said. “You remember Lexine had a will,
right? You and Darryl missed the reading of it.” May gave him a glare. “It was just
a plain one, the kind you do over the internet. But it’s legal, signed, and
witnessed. Everything goes to Ma.”

“That’s good,” Franklin said. Better that it all went to his
aunt than the state.

“Ma don’t want that place,” May said. “None of us do,
either. Do you want it?”

“Me? No,” Franklin said. He remembered so long ago thinking
about moving out there once. “No good fields for growing popcorn.”

“You and your popcorn,” May said with a sigh. “Any chance
you gonna win the prize this year?”

“Yes,” Franklin said. “My corn’s coming in a bit earlier
than Karl’s,” he said quietly. “More time to experiment, get it dried just
right.”

“What, you going for the tasting contest again? I figured
you’d just enter the decorative one this year,” May teased.

“I’m gonna win,” Franklin told her firmly. “And the taste
contest, not the ‘make-a-pretty-display-of-corn’ one.” He was losing stalks,
but so was Karl.

“You know we wish you all the luck,” May said gently.

“I know. And I’ll make you proud,” Franklin declared.

And he would, too: not just of his corn-growing abilities,
but how he got rid of the damn spirit as well, protecting his family.

* * *

The sermon was all about casting out the log in your own
eye, instead of worrying about the speck of dust in God or your neighbor’s eye.
Franklin wasn’t sure what it all meant. Eddie had been a lot more
straightforward in her prayers, asking for healing and an open heart.

Even if it was to a goddess and not to God.

Franklin stood in line to shake the preacher’s hand as he
left the church.

“It was good to see you,” the reverend said. He held onto
Franklin’s hand for another long moment. “You’re looking better.”

“I’m fine, reverend,” Franklin said. “Really. It wasn’t
permanent.”

“I’ll come calling on you and your family later on this
afternoon,” the preacher announced. “Make sure your aunt’s doing okay, after
such a tragic loss.”

“I’m sure she’ll like that,” Franklin said. He was planning
on being gone early, getting May to drop him off near Karl’s farm.

Maybe Franklin would be lucky and Karl would be gone, so he’d
be able to just walk into Karl’s field.

And maybe Sweet Bess would grow wings and fly above his
field someday.

* * *

Despite how hot the afternoon had turned, Franklin found he
couldn’t stay inside the house with everyone: It was too crowded, too noisy,
too full of memories and grief. Aunt Jasmine had set up a table in the living
room, underneath the big picture window facing the street, and filled the top
of the table with pictures of Lexine and things that had been hers, both as a
child and as an adult. It was like a shrine, or an altar, and it made Franklin
nervous, like it was gonna attract the wrong kind of attention.

So Franklin sat out on the back steps, alone this time,
watching May’s boys throw a Frisbee back and forth.

Darryl came out to join Franklin after a bit. “How you
holding up?” He’d taken off his good shirt and just wore his undershirt and
good pants, his feet bare.

“Tired,” Franklin admitted.

“I feel ya,” Darryl said. He stretched his bandaged arms
out. “I would’ve thought a few days off, around the house, would have been
relaxing, but not with our kids.”

“I keep wondering. How did that thing get into your truck?”
Franklin asked, confused. “It just passed through when you tried to ram it.”

“Haven’t a clue. One minute I’m driving down the road, the
next minute there’s this whirling mass that’s lashing out at me.” Darryl shook
his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast, getting out of my truck.”

“Which road were you on?” Franklin asked.

“Sixty-two. Out past the Vanguards.”

“Were you next to Karl’s fields?” Franklin asked. It hadn’t
occurred to him before, but if Darryl was out on the highway…

“I may have been,” Darryl said slowly. “You think there’s a
connection between him and the thing?”

Franklin nodded slowly.

“He’s not controlling it, or something, is he? I’ll kill him
myself if he is,” Darryl fumed.

“No, I think he’s a victim, too,” Franklin said quickly,
trying to ward Darryl off.

“What, you telling me that redneck is special too?” Darryl
asked, disbelieving.

“Naw, I don’t think so. I think there’s something in his
field that’s special, that the creature has been going after. Remember—it
didn’t attack Karl after he shot it—it came to find me,” Franklin said.

“What the hell is in his fields?” Darryl asked.

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

* * *

May refused to drop Franklin off at Karl’s place. “You need
to go home and rest,” she insisted. “You got black circles under your eyes,
like you been up all night.”

“I’m feeling better,” Franklin assured May, though he had to
admit he was still tired. “I promise to rest later this afternoon.”

“You’re going back to work tomorrow, ain’t you?” May fumed.

“I don’t have any more vacation,” Franklin said. He really
couldn’t afford another day off. He was probably going to have to work six-day
weeks for a while, and volunteer for overtime, to make up the money being out
had cost him.

“Don’t you end up working yourself into a grave, like your
mama,” May warned. “You got that pretty Julie now. Make sure you call her.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Franklin said, rolling his eyes. Mama had
worked hard all her life. Franklin, too. He didn’t know any other way.

As soon as May pulled out, Franklin got back on his bike and
rode up to the four-lane highway and through town. He turned before he got to
route sixty-two. Could he get through the back way to Karl’s fields again?
Using the route that Gloria had showed him the first time?

But there were kids playing in the yard of one of the
houses, and Franklin didn’t see another way. He hoped maybe Gloria would show
up, show him the way, but she didn’t.

So Franklin went back to the main road, then huffed his way
out of town, back up route sixty-two, to Karl’s place.

The tall gray house felt deserted. Karl’s old Chevy still
sat in the driveway, with the hood up. Loud cicadas cycled through their call
in the fields. Franklin walked up the porch steps, his shoes echoing on the
wood, then rang the doorbell.

No one answered.

Franklin knocked on the door, but still, no one came.

Maybe Karl was at the vegetable stand. Or maybe he was out
back, working in his fields, and Franklin just couldn’t see him from the house
or the road. Or maybe the creature had him.

Franklin was pretty sure it wasn’t the last one, or else
Gloria would have been on Franklin’s tail until he’d done something about it.