Page 21 of The Woodsmoke Women's Book of Spells
I hesitate, hovering on the threshold. I see his shoulders slump as he tucks his hands into his pockets. Howard has thickened in the years I’ve been gone, not just his waist but his dark brown skin, which seems to have grown extra layers. But he is somehow still the same. Like a tree that has just grown more roots, tangled out of sight under the earth.
We used to play cards together, Howard and I, for endless hours at their dining room table, a pile of pennies at our sides, a heap of hearts and spades in our hands. He taught me to play poker. He taught me how to hold all my excitement on the inside, to keep my features passive, even when I held a straight flush. Poker face.That schooling, how to hold myself in, how to hide my emotions, has been the most important lesson of my life. Howard taught me how to never show my cracks and fissures when it is time to walk away. How to keep my dignity, even when inside I am lost.
“Flower,” he says now, turning from the window, “Cora’s worried.”
“Cora’s always worried.”
“I am too.”
I open, then close my mouth. Howard has always stayed out of Cora’s way. He gently guides her, keeping her on track, but he never intervenes. Not even on the day I left, ten years ago.
“You know I couldn’t ignore the will,” I finally tell him. “Ivy was clear: I got the cottage, the lease on the shop, and she expected me to return and handle it for her. But, Howard, this is it. I promise. A final goodbye, one last winter to fulfill her wishes, to do the right thing, then—”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. That’s what Cora is afraid of.” He sighs again and rubs a hand down his tired features. “Carrie, you can’t run away like you did, then dip back in when you want to. It doesn’t work like that, and you know it.”
I try again, sticking stubbornly to the same words. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
“Stay this time, my flower,” Howard says suddenly. “Stay. Ivy didn’t leave you everything so you could get it ready to sell. She was giving you a way to return, an open door, a way to come back to us. You can see that, can’t you? Surely you’ve missed Woodsmoke. Surely you’ve wanted to come home.”
“Howard...” I say wearily.
He smiles at me, and all his warmth, all that sunshine, spills out of him. “It’s all right to stop running, Carrie.”
“I did the right thing ten years ago,” I say, raising my chin, even as my poker face slips slightly. “I’m doing the right thing now.”
“According to you.” He changes tack. “Look, I know it’s not easy. I know it won’t be easy, being back here...”
I blow out a breath. “You could say that again.”
“And those ten years you’ve been gone might as well be a day to folk here. You know how it is.” Howard levels me with his gaze. He sees all of me, every tell, every stumble, just as he always has. “Everyone in Woodsmoke has a long memory, Carrie, same as all small towns, I imagine. Gossip holds for generations. I still hear whisperings about my dear mother and her shop. How she sold faulty ribbons one season.” He cracks a grin, then blinks. “They count their blessings, but they also count their slights. I know Morgan women are treated differently here; I know there’s gossip. But... you should stay. As long as you’re prepared to start anew. Carve out a place for yourself. Leave the rest of it in the past.”
I sniff. “This is my home too, isn’t it? I have just as much of a claim to being here as any of the gossips.”
“It was, my flower. It was. And it can be again, if you let it.” Howard’s face softens some more. “You have someone helping you here. Someone from the mountain. When did he show up, Carrie?”
“I—how do you know that?” I search my memories, but I’ve never mentioned Matthieu to anyone. I want to keep him a secret, to get it all done without the help of anyone from Woodsmoke.
“Let’s say I’ve been married to Cora long enough for some of those old stories to rub off. My dear mother believed it all, and perhaps I’ve come to know there is some truth in it. Did he arrive with the frost?”
“This is about Cora and the book, isn’t it? The Morgan book of spells and curses. That’s why you’re really here!” I shake my head. “Tell her to stop worrying. I did as I was told; I did everything I was supposed to. I went straight to the mountains when I arrived,I didn’t stray from the path,not once, just like I told her, and they welcomed me back. I haven’t stirred up any shit with Tom, and I don’t intend to. I’m not falling for a man who isn’t real, like in that old tale, and clearly I haven’t gone missing, like in some of the other old tales. I’ve hired someone to fix up the cottage. That’s all. That’sit. You tell her that. You tell her I’m fine and I’ll be gone by spring.”
“That’s what she’s afraid of,” Howard says softly. “That you’re coming here, cleaning off the dust, and then disappearing again when the whole place catches fire.”
“You’re acting like I’m back here to settle a score.”
“Are you?”
“No,” I snap. “Of course not.”
Howard shrugs and walks past me. He takes his time going back down the stairs, his old bones creaking as he reaches the hallway at the bottom. “I did what I came to do. I’ve asked you to stay. I’ve said my piece, Carrie. You can’t carry around all this guilt your whole life. Nor can you be rootless. This is where you belong.” He shrugs again, and a crooked half smile quirks his mouth. “Your move, flower.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me with nowhere to throw my emotions.
My phone beeps, and I pull it out, stabbing at the lock screen. It’s a message from an unknown number, but I know it’s intended for me. I haven’t changed my number all this time, transferring it from contract to contract. The short message holds a world of meaning and shatters the tension in my head, in the room Howard just left. I deflate, sinking to the floor, all my fight gone. If Howard can cut to the heart of my thoughts, this message cuts to the center of my soul, bringing it all back, every moment. And suddenly my heart is aching.
Meet me tomorrow at nine, our usual place.
I tip my head back against the wall as I drop my phone to the ground.
