Chapter 14
Raising & Raisin Toast
Shane cradled the latte Maria brought him in her car the following morning, trying and failing to not yawn in between sips of caffeine. The bags under his eyes were another level of terror, and no amount of cream would fix it. He let Emily sleep in, and filled his dad in on what occurred and what needed to happen next before he left.
He glanced over at Maria. She'd piled her riot of curls high on her head in a bun, and gestured with the hand that held her coffee as she spoke. She barely took a breath between words and he realized, albeit a bit late because of a lack of sleep, that she seemed nervous.
He put his hand briefly on her thigh to interrupt, "Maria, are you ok?"
Nervous laughter spilled out of her mouth as she gaped at him. "My dead husband, the one I murdered by the way, is apparently lurking in the woods around town." She shook her head, muttering something in Spanish before finishing, "So no. I'm not OK."
He smoothed down the stubble that seemed to point in every direction on his face, not quite ready to have the discussion he needed to have with Maria. He said instead, "Is that why you started wearing the Mal de Ojo bracelet?"
She held up the wrist tied with the red string. "This? No. Mama insisted we all wear one the other day. She's convinced that the rumor about the cult is true. I don't want to think about what she'll make us do if she hears it's Dave. And trust me… if Dave sucked that bad alive, I doubt death would have improved him.”
Shane watched the road curve through the early morning fog. “The ghost of Dave Fever is not haunting this town.”
“Of all the things I thought I’d need reassurance of…” She huffed out a laugh and took another long sip of her coffee, wincing at the heat. She jerked her head in his direction and asked, "Wanna tell me why you have a Mal de Ojo tattooed around your wrist?"
He thought back to the first of several botched attempts to Raise solo. He could still hear the ancient man's bones clicking around the room because he forgot the sumac. That sound, and the aggression rolling off the half decayed body from being disturbed, deterred him from trying again for almost a full year.
"I backpacked through Mexico after I left Hinnewatcha. I knew college wasn't for me, knew I wanted to get the hell out of a small town, but I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. I'd gotten lost in a town called Tepoztlan, was flat broke, and wanted to get back to Mexico City. I'd made friends with a young woman who spoke English, and learned that her dad had died years before. She and her mother suspected the uncle, but couldn't be sure. I had a knack for figuring out problems, and gave it a go of solving the case."
Maria looked at him, dubious. "Solving a case in a foreign city where you don't know the language?"
She doesn't know the half of it. He thought back to the drunk night he decided he'd help. He later blamed the tequila for thinking it was a good idea to Raise a dead man in front of his still grieving daughter. Shane answered her, "I was arrogant. And dumb. But also had incredible dumb luck."
Fortunately his friend didn't call the cops when he took her out to the graveyard and dug up her dad's body. And she didn't have a heart attack when that body started to speak again.
"I was able to confirm their suspicions that it was the uncle, and they forced him out of the city. As a thank you, the mother tattooed the string on my wrist."
Por proteccion , she'd said.
"Anyway. That incident gave me the idea of what I could do with my life. I made my way back to Mexico City and flew straight to LA."
Maria pulled up behind his car and put hers in park. "Wait. It was that easy? You got a show on Bravo just like that?"
Shane laughed. "God no. I made these terrible business cards and tried my hand at being a detective for months. I thought I'd be a real Dick Tracy. I even wore a hat."
Maria laughed so he continued, grateful that the anxiety was out of her voice for a bit. "I happened to meet Frankie, my agent, by chance. I pitched him my services, and he said he had a better idea."
"He had that much faith in you?" She asked.
"Hell no. He didn't think I could solve anything. But I was a couple decades younger, had just spent eight months backpacking Mexico, and was still broke and barely eating. So I was tan, lean, and good looking. And he knew he could sell that."
"Least you proved him wrong."
Shane dropped his smile at that. "I don't think Frankie ever really thought I'd solve anything." He looked out the window as he continued, "Maria, there's a lot I need to explain, but you should know that my show... it's a bunch of B.S. Most of the time we already know who the murderer is, and I'm just there to confirm it. We usually research the hell out of a case beforehand." He ran his hand through his hair and added, "I'm totally out of my element here with Nathan Dass."
Maria looked puzzled, "But you figured out that I killed Dave? How'd you do that?"
"That's a longer story. I promise I'll explain everything when we get back to my dad's house."
She nodded, but didn't say anything else. He opened his door but she stopped him with her hand on his. Her eyes were on the rear view mirror, and as he turned, he saw a white SUV pull out of Greg Fever's drive down the road. Maria whipped around, squinting at the taillights as it sped off towards town.
"Do you recognize the car?" Shane asked, hopeful.
"I recognize the I'd love to be your realtor sticker. That was Clarissa Baker." She mimicked the mayor perfectly, "Town Mayor and Realtor Extraordinaire."
He filed that away. "I suppose that's not normal?"
Maria shook her head, "Nope. Clarissa wouldn't give someone like Greg Fever the time of day. Meet you at your dad's house?"
"Yep, I'll see you there." He stopped himself from leaning over to kiss her goodbye, startled at how normal that felt. He settled for an incredibly awkward fist bump.
***
Shane waited for Maria on his dad's front porch, pacing. She finished texting her mom that she'd be back after breakfast, and realized as she got out of the car that he was talking to himself. He met her as soon as she reached the first step, as if he didn't want her to go inside yet. Instead, he pulled her back down, away from the house and around the corner near the massive oak tree that reached high over the second floor. Its orange and red leaves matched the hue of the farmhouse it shaded.
"Maria," he said before pausing, as if to compose himself. "When we get inside we're going to talk about something that we have never told anyone outside of our direct family."
"Okay..." Maria replied. She'd had enough surprises in her life in the last seven days. The last thing she needed was for him to spring something awful on her. "Shane, should I be concerned?"
"No?" Shane said with a protracted shrug. He took her hands in his and led her to the swing under the thickest branch. "No, " he said more firmly. "It's not something bad. OK I'm doing this wrong. Here's the thing. It doesn't hurt anyone. It's something I learned from my mother, who learned it from her mother, and so on. And most importantly, I'm telling you because I trust you. And I don't want you to be scared."
"Full disclosure, Shane. I wasn't scared until that weird pep talk." She put her hands on both of his shoulders, "Just lay it on me. No more lead up."
He took a step back, swinging his arms back and forth as if readying himself. "Right. OK. Just straight out."
"Yep. Just say it."
He nodded, likely more to himself than her, and said, "I can raise dead people."
Not expecting that one, she thought.
Maria stilled, and a hundred thoughts fought their way to the front of her mind. "Maybe a little more?"
"Sorry. Right." He ruffled his hair so it stuck up at all angles before continuing. "When I was 17, my mother explained that our ancestors had a very bizarre, very rare, and very particular gift that manifested when we turned 17. Least that's how she prefaced it to me. She said we had the ability to commune with the dead. And we did it through a specific ritual that she taught me, that her mother taught her, and so on."
"Holy hell," Maria said. "You're dead serious."
He winced and nodded before gesturing to the old swing. "Maybe sit?"
"I think that's a great idea," she said, hitching her body up on the wooden seat. She held the ropes tight, welcoming their scratch as something concrete in a world that suddenly felt topsy turvy.
"I've never heard of anyone like us," he went on, pacing through the yellowing grass. "And again, no one, and I mean no one, can know about this." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but seemed to decide against it.
"I can see why you wouldn't want anyone to know," Maria ventured. "So is this how you found out—" she trailed off, her mind racing ahead of her mouth. "Ohmygod. You're the cult! You're the one that messed with Dave's body? Like the salt and the herbs and stuff at the morgue?"
"Shhhhh..." He said, looking around like there would be anybody but his family here this far out of town. "Yes. That was me. And, well, Emily too, technically."
Maria's voice hitched higher, "You brought your kid to talk to a dead guy?"
"Yeah, well, I thought the more times she did it with me, the easier it would be for her later." Shane held up a hand when Maria opened her mouth. "My mom only showed me once. It took me a few tries before I got it right. And let me tell you,” he huffed out a laugh, “it's not something you want to get wrong."
He had his hands in the air as if this were totally normal. He must have registered Maria's face because rushed to continue, "OK ignore that. But yes, I'm teaching Emily. Like an internship. An unpaid, very obscure internship that she can use as she sees fit, if she ever needs to, later on in life."
He ran his hands over his face, "I'm doing a shit job at explaining this, aren't I?"
"Sort of," Maria said, torn between the need to reassure him and the desire to wring every answer out of him. "So why did you bring me here to tell me? Why in front of your family?"
"I guess I thought it would be more believable if both my dad and my daughter could help me explain it," he said as he looked down. He'd never looked more vulnerable with her than in that moment.
Maria spun her grandmother’s ring around her finger and watched him for a moment, deciding. "OK, Shane Bolles. Let’s go talk about raising dead people over toast. Please just tell me there's more coffee inside?"
His long legs strode over to her instantly. He picked her up out of the swing as if she were a small child and not a woman grown. But she didn't stop him. Not when he grinned wider than she'd ever seen and hugged her hard enough to squish her lungs.
He pulled back and cradled her face in his hands. "Thank you, Maria Fever. Thank you for trusting me. For not freaking out. For listening." For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but he dropped his hands from her face and interlaced his long fingers through her right hand. "I promise, it won't make sense even after we explain it, but you'll believe me when I say Dave Fever isn't haunting Hinnewatcha's woods."
Maria smiled, and squeezed his hand once for good measure. "Good enough for me. Lead on, Dick Tracy. I'm going to need more coffee."