Page 76 of The Witching Hours

I’m married with three children: five, nine, and eleven. We live in Georgetown, Virginia. A few months ago, we found a fixer-upper house on the water, near the old town and fell in love. When it turned out to be something we could make work financially, we thought it was too good to be true. We knew the mortgage payments were high and the renovations would cost a lot, but we thought we could manifest what we’d need when we needed it.

I guess it turned out that it was too good to be true.

A few days after we moved in, I woke to thunder and nearly jumped out of my skin when a lightning flash flooded the room with light. My little girl was standing right next to the bed looking at me. When I asked what was wrong, she said something took her blanket. I know there are people who think she shouldn’t still have a binky nine years old, but for whatever reason she needs it and I think she’ll put it down when she’s ready. Anyway, for now, being without the blanket is a big deal.

I got up and carried her to her room then searched for the blanket while she sat on the bed and watched. She didn’t cry excessively, but she did swipe at silent tears now and then. We didn’t find it.

That was just the beginning. All of us are experiencing disturbances like furniture moving, things going missing, audible voices when it’s quiet, and stray cats constantly trying to run in the house when anyone opens a door.

My wife wants to leave. Actually, so do I, but the bottom has dropped out of the housing market, andwe don’t have enough equity to cover depreciation and closing. My family is scared, and we’re stuck here.

It was signed David Campbell. He left his phone number under his name.

I sat back and sighed. This was not the subject matter of my classes, but I understood why this sort of problem kept coming to my doorstep with more and more frequency. It’s because who you gonna call?

He’d already made it clear he couldn’t pay much. So, it would probably be pro bono. I didn’t have to check my bank account to know I had a little wiggle room. The school was doing well as were associated book sales.

The fact that children were involved pulled at my heartstrings. I didn’t have children, but I’d been a child who didn’t know what to do about stuff happening at night when everybody else was sleeping. I could relate to this little girl standing beside her sleeping daddy in the dark, not wanting to wake her parents, but afraid to go back to her room.

I checked map online. Eight hours. I could drive it in one day. Maybe see fall color on the way. If I added up the time I’d need to park at the airport, go through check in, security lines, flight time, baggage claim, and car rental, I’d be more than halfway there in my own car without the aggravation. Decision made.

I texted the number he’d given.

me: Got your email. Would like to talk on the phone. When is a good time? - Valerie

I got up to start oatmeal, but had just pulled a bowl out of the cabinet when I heard a notification ding.

David: Thank you so much. I’m so grateful. More than I can say. I’m at work, but I can step out. Call ANYTIME!

Gosh. Poor guy. My phone was gripped by desperation.

me: Okay. Put me in your contacts. I will call in twenty-ish. Oh. And DO NOT give out my phone number.

David: Never. I cannot thank you enough.

I really wished he would save the gratitude for celebration. At this point, all I knew was that there was a disturbance. Whether or not I could influence it one way or another was yet to be determined.

Going through the oatmeal preparation ritual didn’t require much thought. My attention kept wandering back to the big window that had given me so many hours of pleasure looking at sunlight on water, skateboarders, sailboats, and the bridge.

Switching the TV on again, I watched the updates from local and federal officials. Who was affected? What will be done? How many injured? How many fatalities? It was a grim breakfast, and I was glad when I was finished. It felt like permission to look away from the tragedy.

My desk chair swiveled so that I could look outside when on the phone. A guaranteed window office was one of the perks of being self-employed and working from home.

I dialed David’s number.

“Hello?” It had barely rung once. Rung or beeped or whistled or chirped or played “Wipe Out”. Whatever noise he’d chosen as part of his tech personality.

“Hi, David. This is…”

“I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you.”

I couldn’t fault him for interrupting when he sounded so darned excited about talking to me. “Why?”

“Why? Well, because you’re, em, famous.”

I thought that might be going a bit far. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. You know that cautionary saying about never meeting your heroes?”

“No. I really hadn’t heard that.”

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