Chapter 4
Dylan noted how little had changed since the last time he’d been in his grandmother’s house. The living room still had the same nicknacks she’d collected over the years and family pictures covered the walls and shelves. A photo from his college graduation featured prominently above his parents’ wedding photo. The furniture was different, but he supposed it was so she and Tinah could be more comfortable.
A frail voice called from the kitchen. “Tinah? Who’s there?”
He looked at his aunt, who flashed an impish grin and put her finger to her lips before pushing him towards the kitchen. He crossed the threshold and saw her sitting at the kitchen table. She looked up at him from her crossword. She stared for a moment before she asked, “Young man, do you know what a nine letter word for happy that starts with an O could be?”
Dylan raised an eyebrow and looked at her. She flashed a sly grin. “Um. Could it be overjoyed ?” he asked.
She chuckled. “Of course it is Dylan. That’s how I feel about seeing you. Now get your ass over here and give your mamaw a hug. It’s been too long.”
He rushed over to embrace her. From what he could see, she was as she always was. “Your mother worries too much. Somebody’s after me, boy. Homer told me about it last night.”
Merrin cleared her throat behind him. “Mom. Homer was dead last night.”
His grandmother narrowed her eyes at his mother. “I know that, Merrin. He told me that too. I just didn’t mention it to Tinah. Didn’t want her to worry and tell you about it.” Her head cocked to the side, and she glared at her daughter. “I’ve always regretted letting you keep all of this from him. Make us a fresh pot of coffee. Tinah, go get the box.”
Dylan’s legs weakened, and he fell into a seat across the table from her.
“Dylan. Our family has always practiced folk magic. The women all have a way of knowing what’s going to happen before it does, but some of us are stronger than others. Your mother, for instance, she’s like my mother, and it’s more like a strong intuition. Me and Tinah, sometimes we can see the future. Emphasis on the sometimes . Never been able to pick the winning lotto numbers, and believe me, I’ve tried.” She cackled.
He gaped at her. All his life, he had heard the whispering of people around town, saying things about his mother and her family. It hadn’t helped that they didn’t go to church. He just assumed they were being closed-minded, and not to mention he had seen this prescience in them his entire life, though he had thought nothing of it—discounting it as coincidence, because he certainly didn’t believe in the supernatural. He opened his mouth to say as much when she stopped him. “Your mother insisted we keep this from you because of Homer. I never had a problem with him, but she didn’t want you involved after he died. She kept you from him, and let me tell you, it really pissed him off.” She raised her eyes over his shoulder.
“Mamaw, you know I don’t believe in anything supernatural.”
She smiled at him. “This isn’t about belief, boy. I’m not going to ask you to take anything on faith.”
He nodded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The dementia was obviously worse than his mother had let on. He wondered why she wasn’t saying anything to dismiss this ridiculous conversation. Tinah joined them at the table, sliding an ancient weathered box to her mother as his mother brought them each a coffee, then took the last seat.
“Now, this is only part of the story. Homer was always tight-lipped about his deal. All I know is that his ancestors were already here when my ancestors came to town looking for a fresh start, and even though the settlement was new, it was as if they had lived here for centuries.” She opened the box and took out an old piece of something that looked like ancient paper. “This is the original deed for this property, though this version wouldn’t hold up at the courthouse. Some things are beyond the laws and understanding of most people.” She slid it across the table to him. He opened it and stared at the symbols he had never seen before, all written in a rust-colored ink.
“What does it even mean?”
She shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know exactly. Homer could’ve told you. Your dad too. This was their thing, not ours. All I know is that according to our family history, this document bound our families together. To unite our bloodlines at some undetermined point in the future. Both agreed that there was a danger that neither could see coming. Homer’s ancestors seemed to have a better idea, but never said precisely. Or if they did, it was lost to time, and never brought up again.”
He laughed. “Don’t tell me that’s why mom and dad got married. Some sense of ancient duty.”
His mother scowled at him. “Of course not. I didn’t even know who he was when I asked him to that dance. I just thought he was cute. None of it was pre-arranged. Homer never liked me either, because I wasn’t a seer like mom.”
He gaped at her. “Wait, you believe this stuff?”
She sighed and nodded. “Hard to not believe the truth when you’ve known it all your life.”
Tinah nodded her agreement with a frown. “I barely date because I always see how the relationship ends as soon as I meet someone. It’s like a fucking curse to me.”
His grandmother was smiling at him again. “I always knew Merrin’s son would be special. I just didn’t know how. Then you handed me this when you were three.” She slid an old piece of paper over to him.
“What’s this?”
Her smile faded. “I think it’s the proof you need, at least enough to get you to stop looking like you’re going to call the men in white coats.
He looked down at the paper, recognizing the blocky scribbles of his childhood. He didn’t recognize the words looking back at him, even though he knew them well. They’d haunted him since he left Seattle. Derek likes Ronnie better than me. He felt the blood rush from his face. He looked at his mom. “Is this why you never liked him?”
She nodded, silent. Tinah spoke up first. “There weren’t any kids you knew named Derek or Ronnie. Mom knew this meant that you had inherited our gift besides whatever you got from your dad’s side.”
His grandmother smiled at him. “No boy in the family has ever had it, and all Homer would tell me is that it wasn’t a Coates thing.”
He nodded. Part of him wanted to cry, but why would he when he knew all of this was bullshit? “Okay, then why don’t I have these psychic abilities now? You say I can see the future, and maybe more, but why the hell did I just have to get my heart broken when I told you it would happen when I was three?”
His mother cleared her throat. “Right after you wrote this, I noticed you were behaving weird. I was concerned and talked to Anthony about it. We wanted you to have a happy and normal childhood more than anything. He took you to see Homer, and when you came back, you were yourself again. All he told me was that Homer ‘took it away’ until you were older and able to understand.”
His grandmother frowned at her. “Anthony and Homer’s son, Jonathan, were killed not long after that. Homer begged your mother to let him teach you the things you needed to know. Be a part of your life. But she refused. He was furious, of course, and would always ask about you. I don’t think Merrin ever talked to him again. Moved into that cabin on the mountain to hide you away from him.”
“Goddamn it, mama, you know that wasn’t the only reason. I wanted to protect him.”
They continued to bicker, but Dylan couldn’t hear any more of the surreal conversation. He contemplated what all of this would mean, and who he would need to get into contact with to have them all committed. He jumped to his feet and rushed outside, collapsing into one of the rocking chairs and lighting a cigarette. Part of him wanted to run away. A voice whispered in his head that he could, but he knew there was nowhere else for him to go.