Witch Hollow by Celia Roman

Author:Celia Roman [Roman, Celia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bone Diggers Press
Published: 2019-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The rest of the day was about as restless as a day could get. After Missy left, I just couldn’t stand them questions still buzzing around in my head, for all the world like buzzards what’d spotted fresh road kill, so I throwed my jacket on, scrounged for work gloves, and spent an hour and a half outside doing whatever chore come to mind. I picked up branches outta the yard and dumped ‘em in a pile for Trey to help me burn, raked a good load of mulch out along the trail, and spread some more out at the little memorial garden me and Missy’d put together over the years along the site where I found Henry’s blood.

And that’s about when all the energy drained outta me in one fell swoop. I staggered over to the bench and flopped into it, pulled my gloves off and laid ‘em on the bench, and sat there panting into the late afternoon air. The sun was a pale orange ball hovering just above the tree line, throwing shadows over me and the trail.

I shivered and tucked my hands between my arms and my sides and huddled there while my heart slowed down and I caught my breath.

A warm wind blowed around me, too warm for the time of year, rousing me from my frenzy induced stupor. Mama, it seemed to say, but it weren’t Henry’s voice reaching out to me. Leastwise, it weren’t the voice I remembered him having, and of a sudden, Old Mother’s words of a few months back come to me, how she shook and shimmied on my porch and her voice deepened into a demon’s, and the warning she imparted to me about my boy.

Mama, the wind said again, and a chill snaked down my spine, raising goose bumps on my flesh. I looked into the wind and the woods, searching for my boy, or what was left of him.

“Henry,” I said, though my voice wavered and wobbled.

“Mama,” came the reply in my baby’s sweet tones, then more plaintive like, “Mama.”

I reached a hand out to the wind, holding it there while warmth surrounded me. “I’m here, baby.”

Under my hand, the leaves stirred into a dervish, spinning ‘round and ‘round at my feet. Acorns tumbled along the mulch spread around the tiny angel marking the very spot where I found Henry’s blood, then joined the leaves whirling ‘round. I tried to draw my hand back, but something held me there, held me in place while nature’s detritus spilled together in a giant jumble of browns and grays.

“Sunny!”

The voice jogged me out of whatever spell I was under. I jerked my arm back and glanced up at Trey running down the trail, his boots heavy on the dirt, a plastic bag held in one hand, a flashlight in t’other. Night had fallen while I was sitting there and the chill bit into me so hard, my knees clacked together as I shivered.

Trey slid to a stop beside me, dropped the bag on the ground, and wrapped himself around me on the bench.

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