“Enough you stole it.”
“To have something magic choose you,” she went on, as if I hadn’t spoken, “proving you’re different, and worth something. I guess I wanted that.” She sighed. “I really wanted that.”
This woman, born and raised in this very small town had yearned to be different. I reflected on Sunshine and Jo’s argument and couldn’t get over how it had gone bad very quickly over a small matter. A misunderstanding on difference.
Was being different bad?
I thought Jo, like Stella, liked being different. It was reflected in her piercings, her style. It was reflected in this job she’d chosen, being on the road, meeting new people and places.
I didn’t think Jo thought being different was bad. But when someone assumed different was instantly wrong, well, that was a problem.
As for Sunshine, I thought he might have been blindsided at having strong feelings for a stranger in so short a time. Afraid of what he might suddenly want and how vulnerable that might make him feel.
I could see how it might shake up both of them.
“Did you use it?” I asked Stella. “The journal? Did you use any of the magic?”
She stared at me for a minute, then, seeming to make up her mind, spoke. “Once. About a year before I died. I used it to make a wish. Or, I don’t know, maybe it was a blessing. For Dot. I wanted her happy. To find someone. To have the life she wanted.”
A cold chill raced down my skin. Magic used is magic paid for. If she’d been careless, it would be easy for magic to take her life to pay for Dot’s happiness.
“She’s had a good life, don’t you think?” I said, offering her the comfort of not telling her the full truth. “Kids, husband, inherited this pretty old house and is making a profit sharing it with people.”
“Yes,” she said hesitantly, then a little stronger, “yes, she has. I mean sometimes I thought my…my accident would ruin it all for her. But she’s okay. She’s doing good. I just want her to know…to know I don’t blame her for what happened.”
“The accident?”
She nodded and pressed her lips together, as if it took a physical effort to keep the words inside.
“Lu said she’ll do it. Let you talk to Dot.”
The smile lit Stella’s face until she practically glowed. I could see the younger woman in her, could imagine how she would have laughed.
“I know it might be hard…” she said.
“…will be hard,” I corrected. “This is going to hurt both of you.” After a second, I added: “Maybe hurt all three of you. Dot has thought you were dead and gone for years now. Knowing you’ve been here all this time might be hard on her.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. But I know she’ll want to see me. I know she’s been thinking all these years that the accident…” She closed her mouth again, her eyes darting up to me like I’d tricked her into talking.
“She’ll be fine,” she said. “And then I can… Well, whatever comes next, I’ll be at peace with it.”
I didn’t contradict her. Sometimes the best thing you could do for a person was offer them a little grace.
“It’s bright,” Lu said. “I smell apples and hickory and something sweet. Nectarine? No, roses.”
I sniffed the air, but didn’t smell anything but a hot Illinois day.
“If there’s any reason I shouldn’t try to get it out of there,” Lu said, “now’s your chance to tell me.” She waited, and as always, her gaze scanned the area and rested so near where I was standing, the pounding of my heart tripped a beat.
“It’s good, love,” I said, pushing those words, my encouragement, my concern. “But be careful.”
She nodded softly, as if hearing the far off warble of a mourning dove calling its mate. Then she took a deep breath and knelt on top of the fallen bricks, which were covered in moss and dirt.
The shed had been built of sturdy stuff in its day, but Lu was strong. Plenty strong enough on her own to move bricks and wood that should take two people to carry.
Plenty strong enough to push aside rubble and dirt. Plenty strong enough to partially unbury the journal so that it would be easier to reach.
I was so intent on watching her lean forward, one hand extending slowly, as if she were carefully reaching into a burning bonfire, that I didn’t notice the hunter.
