The Witches of Snyder Farms (The Wicked Garden Series) (13 page)

Eli followed right behind her.

Part Three

Oregon, 1970s

Charles Stewart had a paradoxical look on his face—both intensely focused and totally distracted—as he paced a well-worn path along the maternity wing of a private hospital in Oregon. It was the wee hours of the morning. His daughter, Diana, had been in labor since late afternoon.

“The boy should have been born back home,” he muttered. Charles had been talking to himself, but his son-in-law, sprawled across a plastic seat screwed into the floor, looked up and grinned.

“So you think it’s a boy, too?”

Peter’s eternally cheerful voice grated, but Charles had resigned himself to having an American in the family. “Aye. No doubt in mah mind.” His exhaustion showed in his voice. He was usually more careful about his elocution.

Charles dropped into the hard chair next to Peter. He patted the young man’s knee and looked him square in the eye. “This child will change things. You’ve got to start keepin’ yer nose clean. You know how important being a father is, don’t you, son?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “I was born to be this child’s father.”

Charles was relieved to find that he believed the young man
. “My daughter, lad…” Charles searched for the perfect word. “She’s driven. You know this, of course, and she might surprise us all, but she’s not…. Well, she’s not what I would consider maternal—and I say this as a man who married a career woman.

“This child, this baby boy…. He’s going to need a kind of love that maybe Diana can’t provide. I trust that you’re capable of giving him that, but I just want to know that you understand. And I want you to know that we can help, Diana’s mother and I.”

Peter smiled. “My mother intends to be a big part of the boy’s life, too. He’s coming into the world surrounded by people who love him, people who are ready to care for him. But I appreciate your trust in me, Charles.”

Peter’s father-in-law decided to let the informality go.

Charles started to speak, and then he stopped. For a transpersonal psychologist, Charles was peculiarly attached to phenomena that he could record, measure, and analyze. Or maybe it was
because
he was a transpersonal psychologist that he was so committed to scientific rigor. He felt the need to prove that the field to which he had devoted his professional life was valid. His wife was the dreamer in the family. Diana seemed to have inherited traits from both of them. Her intensity, however, was entirely her own.

Charles knew that his daughter had embarked on a new research project. He also knew that the frenzy with which she was attacking her subject was remarkable, even for her. And he knew, finally, that she didn’t want to discuss it with him—possibly because her research was connected to a small amount of LSD that Charles was certain she had purloined from his lab. But he had an inkling that Diana’s work was connected to something he had been working on himself—nothing professional, more like family history. He wanted very much to ask Peter a few questions while they were alone, but he had little faith in intuition, and he hated to intrude.

“My son will be the messenger,” Peter said softly.

Charles dropped his head and started to weep. He had
no idea why.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Irvine, 2010s

Ame
had wanted this. She had prayed for it, wished upon a star for it, dropped a penny in the lake for it. Now that she had it, she couldn’t figure out why she was so conflicted about it.

When Eli had first arrived in Irvine, she had thought—for a moment—that maybe he really was her real father. She felt such a strong connection from the first time she met him in that hotel elevator in Champaign. But why wouldn’t her mother have told her? Troy was dead. What did Gretchel have to lose?

Ame thought about a phrase that popped up in every Graham Duncan novel,
Chew on that for a while
. So she kept thinking, trying to get to the source of whatever it is that was ruining what should have been one of the happiest moments of her life.

What she found was grief—and rage. Eli should have been the one to raise her, not Troy. Ame’s mother had destroyed Ame’s childhood by letting her think that Troy, a man who clearly detested her, was her father. Ame tried to believe that her mother had a good reason, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine what that reason might be.

Ame’s first impulse, when she stormed out the farmhouse, was to get away from there as fast as she could. She almost smiled at the happy coincidence that her father—who didn’t even know that he was her father—had just given her the perfect escape vehicle. Now she pushed her new car faster than she had ever driven it before. Hot tears flowed down her face, and that just made her angrier. She hated to cry. She drove faster.

As she raged at her mother, Ame remembered the ‘shroom trip.
Oh! She said this would happen.
The Woman in Wool had predicted that Ame and Eli would turn on Gretchel. Ame refused to let that dripping bitch be right.

She took deep breaths
and wiped at her tears.
Okay. She thinks she’s gotten me. So, my mother betrayed me. It’s not the end of the world. Now I know that Troy is just the abusive asshole my mom married, and I know that Eli is really my dad. This is good! This is what I wanted! I will
not
let a freaking ghost be the boss of me. I can be as strong as Great Grand Mama. I can rise above this anger.

Ame took a few more deep cleansing breaths.

Nope, still pissed. Evidently, rising above her anger was easier said than done.

She knew that she would go back to the farmhouse. She knew that she would forgive her mother. But, right now, she needed to drive very fast down winding country roads. Maybe while screaming obscenities at ancient curses, Scottish ghouls in wet dresses, and several generations of redheaded women with terrible taste in men.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Irvine, 2010s

When Eli ran out of the house, Diana had gone after him. But he was in the car, following Ame, before his mother even had a chance to shout his name. Given that she was stranded at Snyder Farms until he returned, she had little choice but to go back inside.

Well,
she thought,
maybe I can coax a little more information out of Miss Poni. It’s obvious that this is the right bloodline
— Diana nearly choked on the bile that rose when she admitted this to herself—
but there hasn’t been a single mention of the box or the quaich. And where the
hell
is that damn amethyst?

As Diana stepped back into the living room, she cringed at the sight of her laptop, projector, and screen. She had come to prove to Eli—definitively, beyond a doubt—that he was wrong about Gretchel’s family. But he hadn’t been, of course.
If only I had listened to him! All those years, wasted! And poor Eli!

Analyzing her own mistakes was making Diana increasingly uncomfortable. This sort of self-reflection was not her style. But thinking about her son gave her a new focus for her anger and frustration.
Gretchel! Is there no end to her capacity for betrayal?

Marcus was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Holly sat beside him, her arm draped gently over his shoulder. Cindy was helping Miss Poni back to her room. The events of the day had clearly taken a toll on her, but she still had enough spirit to stand up tall and address Diana in a clear voice.

“You’re our guest, Ms. Stewart, and you’re welcome here. Ella’s in the kitchen putting away that fine supper we never ate. If you’re in the mood for country ham, ask her for a plate. It’s my hope that we’ll all find some peace before the night is done. I’m sure you’ll agree that we’ve all had enough excitement for one day.”

“I’m not at all sure that it was
me
disturbing the peace, Miss Poni.” Even Diana was surprised by her ill-mannered display. What was it about these people that made her so hostile?

Marcus raised his head and Cindy narrowed her eyes, but Miss Poni just smiled. Eli’s mother was a good foot shorter than her—and Miss Poni had shrunk a bit over the years—but she was tough, and toughness was something Miss Poni respected.

“Needed to be done. That secret had run its course. I wish that Gretchel could have spoken the truth for herself, but it was past time for somebody to do it. It was for the best, Diana, you’ll see.” And with those words, Miss Poni took Diana’s hand in her own and gave it a tender squeeze.

Realization poured over Diana like a million little sparkly bubbles.
A granddaughter! I have a granddaughter!
Miss Poni smiled again, released Diana’s hand, and let Cindy take her to bed.

Somehow, the knowledge that Eli’s daughter was her grandchild had eluded her all afternoon. She choked back an elated sob as she sent Peter a text with an utterly unprecedented number of exclamation points.

Well
,
she decided.
I just have to learn to accept Gretchel. I don’t have any choice if I want to have a relationship with my only grandchild.

Diana asked Marcus if he knew where Gretchel had gone. His silent gesture encompassed all two-thousand acres of Snyder Farm, and possibly the surrounding countryside. Diana went outside.

As she searched for Gretchel, her newfound commitment to mending fences with Ame’s mother dissipated quickly. Because of the prophecy, Diana had known that Eli’s heart would be broken once. She had prepared herself for that, and she had tried to prepare him. But two betrayals? By the same awful woman? Even if she had been wrong about Gretchel’s connection to the prophecy, her presentiment that the woman was trouble had been correct.

Diana found Gretchel sitting in a swing dangling from an oak tree. Diana cleared her throat. Gretchel looked up.

“Ame is gone. Eli is gone. Hell, my son is gone, too, and I have no idea if he’s ever coming back. What do you want from me, Diana?”

Gretchel’s long legs dangled from the swing. Her bare toes dragged through the dirt.

Diana was infuriated with this perennial child.
Baby Girl!
Diana couldn’t think of a more horrifying epithet, and she was disgusted by the grown woman who had allowed herself to be called by that ridiculous nickname.

             
“It was my intention to commiserate with you, woman to woman, while we wait for Eli and Ame to return. But I’m not sure that’s possible. You may look like a woman, but I don’t think that you’ve really grown up.”

Gretchel jumped from the swing as it surged forward. She landed just in front of Diana, who didn’t flinch.

Gretchel’s red hair was unbound. Her clothes were disheveled.

Always mindful of archetypes, Diana thought of Boudicca, a warrior queen who had fought against the Roman Empire. At the same time, Diana couldn’t help but think,
This girl is a goddamned mess.

Diana sat on the second swing. She didn’t move.

“I saw you leave w
ith… Troy, was that his name?”

“You know it was.”

“Yes, I suppose I do. I saw you leave with Troy. You were heavily pregnant. That was the end of it, as far as I was concerned.”

Gretchel pounced. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew that I was pregnant with Eli’s child.”

Diana looked away. Deep inside herself, she was ashamed. At the surface, she was reluctant to be castigated by the woman who had destroyed her son—a woman who
kept
destroying her son.

“You hate me. I know, and I don’t care,” Gretchel shouted. “But
you
could have prevented all this! My daughter is gone! Your son is gone! What is the fucking prophecy, Diana?”

“I can’t tell you, Gretchen. Eli has asked me not to. I’m grateful to be united with my granddaughter, but your reunion with my son is only temporary—and he knows it.”

Ella came running toward them, crying incomprehensibly. It took awhile before Gretchel and Diana realized that she had a phone in her hand.