The Witch with No Name

Takata hustled to take Mom’s bag, and from the corner of my eye I saw the front of Trent’s main building on the TV. The banner, KALAMACK PIE SLICING UP SOUR, ran below it before it went to commercial. It was official, then. We were dead.

I took a bite of waffle, leaning forward as the syrup dripped. If this was dead, then sign me up.

“About time you got out of bed, sweetheart!” my mom called cheerfully, then gave Takata’s orange pants and striped shirt a disparaging look. A pang went through me as I saw the little clues we learned as children telling us that our mother was leaving to do grown-up stuff: her hair was brushed into a professional topknot, her heels clicked smartly on the tile, there was a blush of heavier makeup, and her jewelry was just shy of extravagant. Her expression was eager and her motions deliberate. I knew when I gave her a hug good-bye that she’d smell of her favorite perfume. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry.

“What are your plans for today?” my mom said as she fixed her scarf, not oblivious to my mood but ignoring it like always. “Use the house as if it’s yours,” she said before I could even frame an answer. “There’s a boat at the club, and the sweetest row of shops in town.”

“Ah, I need to do some spelling,” I said, giving Trent a thankful glance when he gave my fingers a supportive squeeze under the bar.

“Mmmm.” My mom paused, then strode forward to take a key from a rack behind the pantry door. “I’ve got a studio upstairs. It’s nice and sunny up there. Help yourself.”

I took the smooth, small key thinking it looked like it would open a file cabinet, not a door. “You keep it locked?” I asked hesitantly, remembering my mom liked to experiment. She was quite good, and I’d been told on more than one occasion that if it hadn’t been for Robbie and me, she could have been one of Ohio’s premier spell spinners, the elite few who have the knack of creating new spells by modifying existing ones.

“Just the expensive stuff.” My mom’s eyes were on Takata as he came back in, this time wearing something a little more subdued but still clearly “retired rock star” with metallic socks and red shoes. “Thank you, dear,” she said as she adjusted his wide collar, then turned to me. “Ah, ignore what’s under the sink, okay? I’ve been meaning to take care of it.”

“Sure . . .” I tucked the key in the robe’s pocket, exchanging a questioning look with Trent before I spun on the stool to watch her getting ready to leave. My plate was on my lap, and I picked at a piece of waffle. “I’m working on something for Ivy. God knows when I’ll have another day off again from saving the world.”

I had meant it to be sarcastic, but my mom nodded, totally serious. A car had pulled up outside, and Takata headed for the bags. “Use what you need,” my mom said as she checked inside her purse. “That woman needs a little goodness in her life. If you can’t find what you want, I’ve got an account in town at Jack’s Imagineering.” She looked up, breathless and alive, and I set my plate down and went to give her a hug.

“You’re the best, Mom,” I said as my arms went around her, and I was a little girl again, watching her leave for a job interview or rare overnight trip. “Thank you.”

She blinked fast, eyes bright as she pulled away. “Just looking after my little girl. Gotta go! See you later, sweetheart. Enjoy! Don’t show up until after the funeral, okay? Oh, and I’ll tell Robbie. Don’t worry about it. He’s going to be pissed.” She hesitated. “That you played dead, not that you’re really alive.”

Good to have that clarified. I glanced at Takata. He was laughing. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Trent stumbled as my mom jerked him into a loud, noisy hug, and I edged sideways over to Takata. I’d hugged him only a couple of times, and he still felt tall and awkward to me, his arms holding me with a hesitant firmness before he rocked back, face having a touch of sadness for opportunities lost even as he stood in my life again. “You’re doing good.”

“So are you,” I said, meaning it. “She’s happy, and I’d love you for that if nothing else.”

Head down, he smiled as he looked at my hands in his. “Don’t wait too long to come out of the woods,” he said, his gaze coming back to mine with a wise wariness. “Too many people depend on you to stand between them and the rest.”

I knew what he was saying, and I nodded even as Trent reached between us and shook his hand. The two of them exchanged words that really didn’t matter apart from the meaning behind them. It was weird and sort of uncomfortable as Trent and I stood in white robes and with sticky fingers in an extravagant house that wasn’t ours and watched my parents leave.

The car drove slowly through the winding curves until it was lost behind skinny evergreens and boulders the size of my car. The silence of the house soaked in, and I heard the wash of the water for the first time. No one knew we were here except for Bis, and he was sleeping. It felt like Sunday, but no Sunday I’d ever had.