Page 7 of Starlight Witch

“Well, what do you remember about him?” Grams asked.

I closed my eyes, thinking back. “The scent of a breezy cologne. He was strong enough to lift me into the air and whirl me around, and he used to laugh when he did that, and I would shriek because it was so much fun… What else? I remember him and my mother arguing, though I don’t remember what it was about. I think maybe money? Anyway, when he was angry, he would shout but for some reason, I was never afraid. It’s like I knew he’d never hurt us.”

“Your father was a good man, at heart. That I say, not because he was my grandson, but because that’s who he was. As to what happened with his death…it’s never been clear.” She sniffed the air. “I’d better get back and check on the noodles. When’s Bree due over?”

“Soon,” I murmured, still staring at the leatherbound journal.

Should I take a chance? Or should I let it rest? Put it away and not think about it? But I knew I’d never rest until I at least tried to learn more about my father. I gingerly touched the front page and turned it, opening it to the first entry, which was dated April 7, 1996. I had been five years old. This was the year my father died, and he had died July 8. So he had started the journal three months before his death.

I’m writing this in case anyone finds it after I’m gone. I know for certain that if I survive this year, it will be a miracle. I can’t begin to explain the strange things that have been going on, but—when Catharine wasn’t looking—I set about enchanting every piece of clothing Elf owns. I can’t have this fall on her head. I’d rather suffer the worst of fates than have my foolhardiness affect my Elf. I wish I’d never found that secret room. I wish I hadn’t been so greedy.

I’m grateful I never told Catharine, because I know her weaknesses, and she wouldn’t have been able to fight against the temptations I face daily. I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off, but I keep trying, if only for my wife and daughter’s sakes. It’s not easy, though. It’s never going to be easy again.

The doorbell rang, startling me out of my thoughts. I stared at the journal, at my father’s handwriting, and—wondering what the hell to think about it all—went to answer the door and let Bree in.

CHAPTER THREE

Bree carried a large bag, which included some dog food, crackers, candy, and a bag of chips. “I thought I’d bring along extra snacks.”

“Can’t ever have too much food,” I said, taking the bag and setting it on the coffee table. My thoughts were still on the journal, and I couldn’t help but wonder what my father had been talking about. Secret room? Where? And what had he been fighting off, that he knew my mother wouldn’t have been able to withstand? As for the clothes…had he really enchanted my clothes for protection? I’d only read the first page, yet it opened up so many questions.

“You look lost in thought,” Bree said.

“I am. I’ll explain later, though—don’t mind me.” I wanted to read more before I addressed what I had found in the diary. For all I know, he could have resolved whatever issue it was in the four months leading up to his death. I did know that I wasn’t going to be able to focus on movies at all, not with what I’d read. But Bree needed the distraction, and so I decided that whatever had happened with my father, it had happened almost thirty years ago and it could wait one more day. I set the journal aside.

“What movies shall we watch? You mentioned Marilyn Monroe?” Bree asked.

“Yeah, though I’m open. Your choice.”

She grinned. “I hoped you’d say that. Since you have WatchParty, I took a look at what’s offered.” Picking up the remote, Bree turned on the television and flipped over to the WatchParty app. “I found this—we can’t get much more retro than old monster movies!”

I glanced at the lineup. I’d never heard of a number of them, but they all looked cheesy-good. Robot Monster, Day of the Triffids, the original War of the Worlds—the latter of which I’d seen, and which had been surprisingly good. I recognized the names of several others, but I’d never seen them.

“Let’s watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” I said, choosing one at random. “It came out in 1958, sixty-six years ago. But first, let me see how dinner’s coming.”

I headed to the kitchen. “Bree’s here. When’s—oh, that smells good.”

The spaghetti and meatballs were ready, as was the garlic bread. Grams had skipped making a salad, which surprised me.

“We’re eating in front of the TV. You’re welcome to join us,” I said.

“Thank you, but I’m not going to interrupt you two. I’ll eat in the kitchen while I read the news, then I’ll clean up and go for an early bedtime. At my age, extra sleep sometimes is the perfect ticket. And I have a full day tomorrow.”

Bree joined us, her eyes lighting up at the food. “That smells incredible.”

‘Enjoy, girls.” Grams handed us plates and we filled them high with the pasta and bread. In carb heaven, I picked up my silverware and headed for the living room. Bree followed suit. We opened our cans of sugar-free ginger ale and snuggled on the sofa together, plates on TV trays, ready to spend the evening lost in another world.

We were halfway through the movie when I got a text from Kyle. hey, how are you doing? are you feeling any better than this morning?

I showed Bree the text. “What does he expect me to say?”

“You sound angry,” she said, stroking Silver’s back. Gem was curled up beside me, Silver against Bree.

“I guess I am. I understand why I can’t talk to Faron about our relationship, but Kyle doesn’t seem to understand how upset I am. I wish he’d acknowledge how much this hurts me. That’s all,” I said, debating how to answer. “What should I say?”

“What do you want to say?”

“I want to say I’m upset and that I’m trying not to think about it. So stop texting me to find out how I feel.” Impatiently, I shrugged. “I guess I can tell him the truth. I’ll try to be polite. I know he doesn’t mean to sound uncaring.”

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