The Witch House of Persimmon Point (10 page)

Ava loved Gwyneth and, as weeks turned into months, called both women “Mama,” which made everyone happy. Even Reginald was beginning to venture out from the east wing of the mansion. He would come out to the gardens and sit and watch Nan run around with the pretty, laughing Ava, and he watched as Gwyneth read or did needlepoint. He saw how she always seemed to have her eyes on Ava. The child brought out the best in her. They made an interesting, little family. But a family nonetheless.

For the first few years, all their joy and love was focused on Ava, who grew into a creative girl, and as she got older and was allowed to play on her own, she would hunt through the mansion for interesting nooks and crannies. She found hidden closets and trunks filled with old-fashioned clothing under the eaves in the many levels of the attic. She would climb up into the cupola and proclaim herself queen of the world. Her favorite spot became the turret room. It was cozy with Oriental carpets and the light of the stained-glass windows scattering designs all over. She loved to play in that room. It was where Gwen spent many hours as well. It was safe there. You could see all around you. There were no surprises.

 

8

The Fortune-Teller in the Library with a Revolver

1905

“Reggie, would you like to tell her or shall I?” asked Gwyneth at breakfast. Breakfast was always a big to-do at Haven House. Shining silverware, cold fresh juices, someone always there to refill your glass. Coffee in big, steaming pots.

“What is it, what is it, what is it?” cried out an excited little Ava.

“Don't be shocked, dear heart, but this news will not be so exciting for you. As a matter of fact, you may have to let Hetty put you to bed next Saturday night.”

“Why on earth?” asked Nan.

“We are going to have a party. Our first soiree in more than four years. We used to have them all the time. Rollicking fun. In fact, Nan, thank you,” said Reginald.

“For what?”

“For bringing the light back into our lives.” He placed his hand on Nan's shoulder and squeezed. And unlike other times when he'd touched her, there was heat beneath his hand. And Nan did not try to move him away.

*   *   *

“Is it true there's to be a party, miss?” asked Walter. He assisted Nan whenever she went into Haven Port. Sometimes to pick up more lye for a new soap she was making. Sometimes to sell her medicinal preparations. In recent years she had gained quite a following as a local healer of sorts.

“Yes, it is. Very grand, so I hear.”

“Be careful, miss.”

“Walter, if you are concerned about any sort of—”

“There are stories, miss. Terrible ones. People used to go missing. Screams. Smells. Until a year or so before you came. Even the police thought it was fishy. It got so's none would go to those parties. It got so's no one that wasn't already working here would take a job. Until you.”

“Rubbish. And don't spread that nonsense. No more, Walter. You hear? Or you might go missing as well.”

*   *   *

Walter hadn't been wrong. That first party should have shocked Nan to her core with its lascivious nature and decadence. Velvets and absinthe, opium and wanton disregard for moral proprieties. Only it didn't. When the morning after elicited no reproach or embarrassment, Nan found herself eagerly waiting for the next party. Which led to another, and then another. Nan was introduced to yet another way of life. Costumes and champagne. Lavishly produced stage plays and themes like “Exploring the Amazon” and “Taming Cleopatra.”

“Smoke this,” said Reginald. And she did.

“Kiss me,” said Gwyneth. And she did.

Wear this, take this off, be this, be that. Dance. Dance.

“Touch me,” growled Reginald. And she did, happily.

*   *   *

“I should be disgusted. I should be running from this den of iniquity,” Nan commented one morning after another debauched evening. She stretched lazily between Reginald and Gwyneth on the overstuffed pillows strewn across the back lawn. All three were trying to watch Ava get ready to see the ponies.

“The sun! I'm like a demon. It's burning me. There was far too much absinthe in that punch, Reginald.”

Nan laughed and then let Gwyneth and Reginald lead her inside so they could play with each other until the hangover wore off. Nan never felt as if what they did was sex, though it pleased her. It all felt like a delicious haze. But as time went on, she ached for Reginald. To be alone with him. To be one with him. And she thought he wanted that, too. Which scared her.

1907

Nothing mattered.

The intensity of physical pleasure mixed with the use of mind-altering substances allowed Nan to forget about the things she'd promised. Like sending for Vincent and writing to her mother. And then it was too late.

A package came from Florencia. Nan's mother had died, and Florencia was immigrating to America. She'd sent Nan the only thing her mother had of value. Her book of magic. A big black book filled with drawings and scribbled notes.

She found Reginald in the library (where he was going over the ticker for the stock exchange), and told him. He poured her a drink and held her as she cried.

“Would you like to travel to Europe for the funeral? I can make the arrangements.”

“Oh, Reggie, you're so generous, but whatever rites were to be performed would have been done already. If there was any sort of concern it would be for my brother, Vincent.”

“And where is he living again?”

“In the Bronx.”

“Ah. Well, how about if we make a visit? Greens from up and down the East Coast gather and summer at Far Rockaway beach each year. We've successfully avoided those trips, but perhaps it would do us all a bit of good to get another view of the world. And it would do me good to see my family.”

“You didn't grow up here?”

“No, no. I grew up on a tiny island off the coast of Fairview, Massachusetts, called Fortunes Cove. I miss it there. I long for it, and for my family as well. I understand how you feel about your mother and your brother, my dear.”

“Then why don't you go back?”

Reginald sighed. “Do you believe in magic, Nan?”

“I do,” Nan said, quietly, hoping she'd been right. Hoping he was one of her “people.” Those that her mother had spoke of back in Italy.

“I know you do. Well, I lost my faith, or my way.… Hell, I don't know. I was asked to leave Fortunes Cove. And I can never go back.” Reginald made a fist and banged it against the wall. Books fell from shelves all around.

Nan wanted to ask more, wanted to know more … but Reggie seemed so angry and sad, so instead, she changed tack.

“I see.… Well, it would be good to see Vincent. And to meet your family. But what about Gwen?”

“I've never made her go, so she should not object. Contact Vincent. Have him meet us there. Tell him I'll pay any wages he loses for a few days of vacation by the sea. It should prove to be great fun. What do you say, Nan?”

“I say yes.”

“Marvelous. But you must do something for me in return.”

“Anything.”

“Do not ask my family about me. Do not pry into that which is dead.”

FAR ROCKAWAY, NEW YORK

Not two weeks later, they were amidst a strange subset of Greens frolicking on the beaches of Far Rockaway. Nan had thought she would be tempted to break her promise and ask questions about Reggie. But she didn't feel the need. His interactions with them were warm and held no ominous feelings. Besides, the air was sweet with victory for Nan. She'd left New York in rags, and returned in riches.

“Didn't your brother say he'd come today? The sooner you see him, the sooner we can leave this hovel,” huffed Gwyneth. Reggie'd been right, she hadn't objected to the trip, until they arrived. But she'd been moody from the moment she'd seen his younger, beautiful cousin Margaret.

And then, as if Gwen had conjured him out of sea foam, Vincent, all grown-up, emerged from the blinding sunlight.

“Nan, what's happened to you?” he asked, frowning. “You look like a harlot. Do all women wear their hair down and paint their faces in Virginia Society?”

“It's nice to see you, too, Vincent. Look there to the waves, do you see Ava? She's getting bigger day by day. Come, take my hand, let's go to her.”

Vincent's face softened. He took her hand.

Nan and Vincent talked for hours. They argued about loyalty and trust and family ties. They laughed over old memories and cried about the loss of their mother. And in the end, they quietly agreed that their lives were very different from one another.

Nan would never give up hope that she could right the wrongs she'd committed against him.

Vincent would later marry Reginald's cousin Margaret and live out his own somewhat tragic life. He would visit Nan once or twice after the destruction of her own world, but, much to Nan's dismay, they would never be close. To Nan, Vincent would always be the little boy who saved her on the steps at Ellis Island. And to Vincent, Nan would always be the one who let her body ruin his happy life in Italy. There was no in between.

1908

The party that was planned for their homecoming from Far Rockaway would prove to be Nan's last. That night, Gwyneth and Reginald introduced Nan to the famous fortune-teller Evelyn Pratt, whom Reginald had known growing up.

“It's impossible to book her for events, but Reggie pleaded with his Aunt Faith at Far Rockaway. Now she's here, so that barbaric trip was not a waste of two perfectly good days after all.” Gwyneth said. (She'd been rendered to frequent, insecure bouts of anger since seeing Reggie with the clan of strange Greens).

As if on cue, a stunning woman wearing a deep-sapphire satin gown glided into the parlor on Reggie's arm.

“Come, Nan. Meet Evelyn.”

“My dear Nan. It is delightful to meet you. I've felt you in this house from the moment I arrived. You are like a beacon here, staving off the more destructive forces. Is your child asleep?”

Nan looked toward Reginald and Gwyneth, but they were gone again, swept up in the dancing dancing dancing.

*   *   *

Evelyn Pratt took Nan roughly by the arm and pulled her into the library. She closed the doors.

“I don't know why I'm doing this. It usually does no good once I've cast the bones. But you are different, Nan. You have real talents. Reggie was right. Magic flows through you, does it not?”

Nan shrugged. “So my mother said, but I have seen no instances of it.”

“It is a muscle, like everything else. You should practice and see what you can do. Did you learn English quickly? Do you feel yourself drawn to immoral behavior, guided more by your own set of values rather than those of the society? Of course. Those are two very important telltale signs of one who has great magical potential. Now, more important, you must leave this house, Nan. As soon as possible.”

Nan walked to a small bar and poured herself a drink.

“Think of it. When was the last time you thought of anything beyond this property? Your brother, growing up alone in New York City. Your mother, in the ground in Italy. Your sister, what has become of her? And Ava … is this the mother you wanted to be?” She knocked the glass out of Nan's hand. “You must not drink any more of this. These people, this place is soiled. They are using you, Nan. Nothing good can come of this. Reggie told me he's been honest with you about the fact that he cannot return home. But do you know why?”

“I don't want to hear any more of this.”

“Your mother tried to teach you and you didn't listen. You suffer for that obstinance now. Reginald grew selfish and wanted more than the magic he was born with. He broke rules that ought not be broken.”

“I will not leave him.”

“Do as you wish, but my assistant, Albert, will stay for a few days after I go. I've instructed him to watch you. And when you have cleaned yourself out, he has been instructed to make sure you can escape. Do this for Ava. She does not deserve the future I see, Nan. It is a terrible future that will cast a net of sorrow and imprison generations. Please alter it.”

Before Evelyn left, she gave Nan a cryptic note.

When fire destroys all you hold dear

and sorrow plagues you year by year

and one that wasn't meant to be

falls down the steps of devilry

send her dying soul to me

send her dying soul to me.

She didn't leave. She couldn't. She wouldn't. But she didn't go to the parties after that. And she stayed clear of the absinthe punch and opium pipes.

Without the strange goings-on in her mind, one fact was clear. Nan was desperately in love. She sent Albert away. She did not need to escape and found it silly Evelyn had been so insistent. Nan would heed the warning, and remain vigilant.

At first Gwyneth and Reginald were amused by Nan's new austerity. Then Gwyneth became annoyed. But Reggie seemed to understand, and soon, the parties ceased entirely. Nan took that as proof that she was in fact, a beacon of light in their lives. A savior of sorts.

She forgot to remember that most saviors must eventually sacrifice everything for their flock.

 

9

Gwyneth in the Turret Room with a Lighter

1910

Nan pushed open the door to the stone gardener's cottage, and petals fell from a low-hanging fruit tree branch.

“You should always have petals in your hair,” said Reginald.

Lifting her skirt from behind, his hands caressed her, full of wanting. She turned, and they locked in a kiss that released far too many hours of being apart.

He rested her on the ground, and as she opened herself wide to him, he groaned as he drove himself inside her.