The Witch House of Persimmon Point (5 page)

Eleanor didn't know how to respond. But then, Maj tugged on her hand.

“Mimi would call her a Pip, or a SassyPants!” said Maj, and Eleanor saw a smile. A real, true smile. A seven-year-old smile. So she smiled, too. And, unless the girl was lying, she was an Amore. Which meant, in no uncertain terms, family.

“Is your dog nice?” asked Maj.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On her mood. But I can tell she likes you, because she's old and sick and I ain't seen her riled like this in a dog's age. Get it? If you want, I'll let her come on down and say hi. Her name is Delores. Now, if the interrogation is over, let's go inside and get this party started.”

Eleanor hesitated.

“
OH, PLEASE
. Just ask yourself, what would Josephine De'Fazio do? And do the opposite,” Byrd said.

Well, she's not lying about being an Amore,
thought Eleanor.
A bona fide out-of-her-mind crazy mind-reading Amore, and I don't mind one bit.
She let go of Maj, who ran up the stairs and was licked all over by the dog, and followed Byrd into the house.

*   *   *

“So, you're the granddaughter of the old lady who went and died and stirred all this up?”

“Her name was Mimi, and she didn't do anything. I did it.”

“Rushed me, is what you did. I was always planning on ending up here.
Eventually
. But I thought I'd be an adult first. I mean, I had to go to extreme lengths and had to keep track of way too many lies in order to get myself here. Mighty aggravating. But I guess I can't hold you responsible for that.”

Upon entering the house, Eleanor felt as if everything around her was moving in slow motion.

She watched as Maj let her small hand linger on the ornate brass doorknob. Then held it up to catch the dancing flecks of dust in the large open foyer. Eleanor's gaze followed the light up the staircase, to a massive stained-glass window on the second-floor landing that bathed the stairs and foyer in multicolored light. She swept her own hand through their colorful rays as Byrd took them down a long velvety dim hallway, not dark or damp, just … soft. As her eyes adjusted, Eleanor noted that everything she saw was architecturally uncomplicated but filled completely with plants and books and artwork. Walking past the living room, she wanted to sink into the deep cushions of the sofa and sleep for days. Fans whirred in the windows, and the air smelled like ripening plums.

A clock was ticking like a heartbeat.
Tic tock tic tock tic tock. Tic.

“I like it here,” said Maj in a hushed voice. The one Mimi always asked for—but never got—in church.

“Also,” Byrd said as she led, “you are welcome. I mean, I cleaned, planted, dusted, washed.… Lord, I don't think I've ever done a chore in my whole life. But see, that's just proof that you don't need to do chores, watchin' people can teach you everything you need to know. Stay lazy, Maj. Trust me. Now, take a seat, or wander. But we got to get to work. And what kind of name is Maj anyway?”

“It's Elizabeth, but there's a bunch of dead Elizabeths in our family, so they call me Maj. I like it sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” asked Eleanor.

Both girls looked back over their shoulders at her, wearing the same expression. Maj was happy.

“Here we are, the heart of the house. Nan's kitchen,” announced Byrd as they entered through a swinging door.

The kitchen was bathed in sun and was such a contrast to the hallway that Eleanor had to squint before she could get a good look.

It was an astounding size but still felt cozy for a room so big. There was a doorway onto the back porch on the left and a double set of glass-paned French doors on the right that led to a world of plants.

“You have a greenhouse inside your house?” asked Maj.

Byrd was gathering glasses and bottles and boxes of crackers from different built-in cabinets along the turquoise walls. “It's your house. Even if I can't stomach the notion. And that's a conservatory. Or atrium. Or whatever they are called. If you think that's something, wait till I take you out back tomorrow to see the ruins. Anyone want a drink? We have lemonade and coffee and whiskey. Water, too, only I haven't been able to get the well tested because I don't own the damn house. Which is plain wrong, as it is
MY
birthright.”

“Aren't you much too young to drink?” asked Eleanor.

“Oh, I understand, you haven't had your come-to-Jesus moment.” Byrd sat down with three glasses, a pitcher of lemonade, and a bottle of bourbon. She poured the lemonade. The first glass halfway, the second glass three quarters of the way, and the third almost full. She then topped them off with the bourbon, keeping the strongest for herself.

“I don't think this is a good idea, and if you're thinking that baby cocktail is for Maj, you really are crazy.”

“Like I said, you haven't had your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“Don't be angry with her, Byrd. She's worried,” said Maj.

“Am I coming on too strong?” asked Byrd.

“Just a little.”

“She's right here, and she isn't worried,” said Eleanor, exasperated.

“Okay.” Byrd got another glass. “Here you go, Maj. Plain old boring lemonade. Now, why don't you take a seat, and we can figure all this out. How about you ask the questions and I try to answer them. Good idea?”

Maj gave Byrd the thumbs-up.

“Let's start with: How old are you?” asked Eleanor.

“I am fourteen years old. And I can't stand it, because it's an even year. I prefer odd years.”

“Okay, well, you are too young to live alone, so who lives here with you?”

“Alive or dead?”

“Alive, please.”
Smart-ass.

“No one, I'm on my own. And before you get your panties in a bunch over neglect or abandonment or what have you … wait, what time is it?” Byrd pointed at a large, round, industrial-looking clock. “Oh, look, you got to love good timing. You can ask questions for about thirty more seconds, then that phone over there is going to ring.”

“I'd guessed you had the Amore sight, but if that phone rings I'm thinking yours is a stronger strain.”

“Actually, I'm a GODDAMNED HYBRID … so, yes, it's a stronger strain. I got all kinds of witch blood colliding in me, and I bet young Maj here's a hybrid, too. Because until she got out of that car of yours, I thought I had the lion's share of those talents. But I'll tell you what, she's givin' me a run for my money. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet.” She winked at Maj.

Eleanor opened her mouth to speak, and the phone rang.

“Got to love my aunt's propensity for punctuality. Sorry to burst your bubble, but she calls every single day at 2:45 p.m. Listen close and try to catch on, okay?”

Byrd went to the phone and picked up the heavy black receiver.

“Hello, Aunt Wyn.… Of course I knew it was you. Well who the hell else would be calling? No. She's right here. Yes. Well, I'll tell you what, it was a miracle! I can't quite get over it. We woke up this morning and I brought in her breakfast tray like I do every morning, I know, I'm a saint.… Yep, you got that right. She likes those awful raw eggs of hers.… And I said, ‘Good morning, Miss Eleanor,' as usual. I said it really loud, though. Yes, I read the sign language books. But I had a
TRAY
in my hands, for god's sake, Aunt Wyn. I didn't grow another set of arms all of a sudden.…”

Eleanor sat at the kitchen table, staring in disbelief at the conversation she was hearing. Maj, wide-eyed with delight, held her hand up over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Byrd held the phone out for a moment, and a child's tantrum echoed out. She placed it back at her ear, rolling her eyes conspiratorially at Maj and Eleanor. “… Oh, is the baby sick? Shut his damn mouth up, then. Look, do you want to hear about the miracle or what? That's what I thought. So, she just looks at me and says, ‘You don't have to shout, I'm not deaf!' And I almost fainted, I swear …
Uh-huh
.…
Mmm
 …
Hmmm
 … How am I supposed to know? The doctor came straightaway and deemed it hysterical deafness or something like that. The long and short of it is, she's talking now. Would you like to talk to her? Thought so. Hold on.”

Byrd held out the phone, and Eleanor took a large gulp of her laced lemonade. She glared at Byrd as she took the receiver.

“Hello? Yes … of course … I understand.… You know how those things go. I'm sure there will be tests. No, I'm not concerned, I had a stressful year, it seems. I'm glad you're relieved.…
Mmm hmmmm
. A handful. Yes, I'll have her call you tomorrow.”

Eleanor hung up and sat back down across from Byrd.

“You didn't snitch. I think we're going to get along just fine,” said Byrd, grinning.

“That was unfair, Byrd.”

“It was funny, though. And it was also useful. I can't actually believe she fell for it. I've been here since May!”

“Look at me, Byrd. And listen very closely. I don't know who you think you are, or who you think I am. And I'm not going to make any waves here for you because you have, in fact, proved yourself fairly useful. I won't argue that this little ambush hasn't been successful, but don't think for one second that you will walk all over me. Seems like you have a little too much practice walking around on other people. Walking above them. That's not your fault, you've been spoiled. So I will let you stay here with us. But you will never tell a lie about me again without me agreeing first. You will help me take care of Maj. And you will be an equal partner in the upkeep of this house. Do we have an agreement?”

“You're awful pretty when you're mad,” Byrd sighed.

“Do we have an agreement?”

“You'd let me stay here with you indefinitely?”

As Eleanor considered her question, she looked at Byrd's beautiful, strong, open face, allowing herself to acknowledge just how right it all felt. As if she'd been expecting to know this girl … to find shelter in this house. She felt safe.
How long has it been since I felt safe?
she wondered. When she finally replied, her words sounded far more stern than she felt. Because, like it or not, she'd have two powerful headstrong little wards on her hands before she knew it, and she had to lay the law down now.

“Yes. If you agree. And I suppose we have to get you registered for school, right?”

“You can't make me go to school. I'm already done with that mess. I'm a genius.”

“I'll speak to your aunt about that. And if that's the case, you can help me teach Maj. I'm homeschooling her.”

“Cursed, visionary children never do fare well with peers or teachers in traditional academic settings. Nor do their dogs. I speak from
experience
,” said Byrd, petting Delores.

“Are you going to agree or not?”

“Agreed.”

Maj clapped.

“Oh! I clean forgot! I have a little something I thought you might like, Maj.” Byrd opened the doors to the conservatory, letting out the sweet, earthy scent of violet and sage. The floor was tiled in black-and-white squares, and a red velvet couch with throw pillows and blankets sat in the center of all the plant vines and pots. Byrd reentered the kitchen with a cigar box. “Here you go, kid. Have fun while your mama and I talk through this thing. Don't worry, Elly, I smoked all the cigars.”

“Mama, look!” Maj cried, opening up the box.

It was full of red crayons. Permanent Geranium Lake, to be exact.

 

4

Byrd in the Kitchen with a Candlestick

4:00 P.M.

A tour of the house revealed a wide first floor with the foyer front and center. A small living room and a library made up the left side of the house, and the right was a larger living room with a fireplace and a piano. Both sets of rooms had entrances to and from the hallway and the kitchen that ran the length of the back. The second floor was narrower than the first, with four equal-sized bedrooms and a large bathroom. The third floor of the house narrowed dramatically and had two bedrooms and a bath. There was also an attic. And, above that, like the topper on a cake, one lone cupola with windows all around.

Eleanor fell in love with each nook and cranny.

It had been a whirlwind tour. Byrd seemed to be on some kind of schedule Eleanor didn't yet have the agenda for. Everything blurred together. Richly colored wallpapers and deep couches, sturdy four-post beds and white clawfoot bathtubs. Circular windows near doorways. Stained glass everywhere like the witch balls sold at fairs—round glass balls with strands of colored glass blown inside the centers, said to catch any evil and capture it in the web of color. (Byrd refused to linger in any of the rooms. “Seeing this house without the background information is a waste of time. It will look entirely different once you know its history.”)

Only the necessary bags were removed from the car, and the U-Haul, still packed, stood lonely and alien against the darkening sky.

Back in the kitchen, Eleanor looked in the refrigerator. It was a very old model, one that closed with a metal vise.

“I kind of wish you'd taken care of the food situation as well as you seem to have taken care of the house. I see nothing in here I can make for dinner.”

“I have the essentials. Bourbon and pie.”

“Pie might do … for now,” said Eleanor.

“What kind of pie?” asked Maj, pleased by the idea of dessert for dinner.

“Well, there's the usual, you know, apple, apple crumb, peach, cherry, you know. But my favorite is the lemon pawpaw. It's my very own creation.”

“I think I'll stick with apple.”

“Maj, I'm disappointed. I thought you'd be more adventurous,” said Byrd.