Chapter 13
13
T he next time Flora went downtown, it was to pick up groceries for herself and her mother, who had slipped into a kind of polite pantomime. She had meant what she said, and would figure out a way to escape her mother, but the two of them couldn’t live in a tiny bus while constantly fighting.
Her mother went back to her routine of smoking pot, watching TV, and winding her way through the bus and the yard doing inconsequential creative projects like hanging a hand-painted nylon windsock in one of the trees on their property.
Flora realized that she now did all the cleaning, all the shopping, all the cooking, and supplied every dollar they had coming in—her mother had stopped looking for money now that Flora was making it. Instead of being grateful, though, Maureen treated her like she was the tenant in the house, lucky to be allowed to live there. If Flora thought about it for too long, she would become infuriated, so she tried not to think about it as she walked down the sidewalk into town. The bitter truth was that she still had to grocery shop at King’s. There were no other grocery stores, but she usually did it as quickly as possible, and most of the employees there did her the courtesy of smiling politely or pretending they didn’t recognize her, even though everyone knew everyone on the island.
Today, though, things were different. As soon as she walked in, Debbie saw her and blinked with recognition. She looked around, then crossed from behind her place at the customer service counter to talk to Flora.
“Did you hear?”
“Hear what?” Flora asked, amused to think that Debbie would think she heard any of the idle gossip around the island.
“About Matt,” Debbie said. “I figured since you knew each other maybe?—”
“What about him?”
Debbie looked around, then lowered her voice and spoke. “Dead.”
The word was so blunt that it startled Flora. “He died? From what?”
“Nobody knows yet. He was found in the back seat of his own car in his driveway. He had slashes on his neck and chest, his clothes were torn, but apparently he was sitting straight up in the back seat.”
The mental image of Matt King sitting straight up, dead and bloody, in the back seat of his car was disturbing to Flora, who shuddered.
“Somebody… killed him?”
“I don’t know,” Debbie said. “Some people say suicide. Did you ever talk to him again, after…”
“No,” Flora said, a little too quickly. “No, never. I never even saw him.”
“I think he was into drugs,” Debbie said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Maybe he got on someone’s bad side.”
“Maybe,” said Flora, thinking about what a coincidence it was that she had just told Ethan about Matt only a few nights before.
Then, she felt a tingly feeling as she remembered the waiter, and how he had been killed the night they’d eaten at Deer Harbor.
She shook off the creepy, irrational feeling, the word evil floating through her mind.
“I have to shop and get back,” Flora said to Debbie.
“Of course, right,” Debbie said, “but hey, we’re so understaffed. I thought maybe that now?—”
“I have a job,” Flora said, cutting her off. “Sorry. I work out at Rainshadow.”
“The horse farm?” Debbie asked, confused. “I didn’t know anyone even lived there.”
“Yep. Sorry, I need to get back,” Flora said again, pulling herself away.
Walking back along the highway an hour later, a familiar yellow VW Bug sputtered up beside her.
“Let me drive you back,” Blythe said, leaning over the passenger side seat to call from the cracked window.
“I’m fine,” Flora said.
Blythe rolled her eyes. “Get in the car, Flora, I need to talk to you.”
Flora didn’t want to talk to Blythe, but the ride home was too convenient to pass up. Her shoulders were already aching from carrying her groceries in her backpack.
They drove in silence for a moment before Blythe spoke. “I was hoping you’d come see me.”
“Why?” Flora said. “Last time I saw you, you weren’t exactly friendly.”
“I was trying to warn you,” Blythe said. “Something evil has come to the island, and it moved in to Rainshadow.”
“You sound crazy. Everyone talking about evil sounds crazy. There’s no evil. I’m not evil, and Sylvia’s just a regular run-of-the-mill bitch.”
Blythe looked at her.
“Sylvia?” Blythe said. “The woman?”
“Who else?”
“There is someone else at Rainshadow.”
“Ethan,” Flora said, her heart doing a little tumble at the chance to say his name. “But he… if anything, he’s, like, a victim of Sylvia.”
“A victim?” Blythe looked genuinely confused.
“Sylvia’s just, I don’t know, really… difficult.”
“And Ethan is… her husband?”
“No, they’re not married,” Flora said, a little too quickly.
“But he’s the owner of the house.”
“I think so, yeah.”
Blythe seemed to be chewing her lip for a moment, thinking. “Look, Flora, I’ve debated how much to tell you, what I should tell you.”
“Ok…”
“And I don’t think I can tell you the truth, but you just have to believe… you have to trust me that you’re in danger. Please don’t return to Rainshadow.”
“What? You have to tell me.” It wasn’t a question, more of a demand. Flora was starting to regret accepting the ride. “What is so dangerous?”
“Ethan… Is that what you called him? Ethan is dangerous. And I think the woman, Sylvia, is under his control.”
Flora looked at Blythe.
“Blythe, if you knew them you’d know that’s crazy. Ethan is under her control. She is…” Flora shook her head. “She’s terrible to him.
“How well do you know him?” Blythe asked. “How much time have you spent with him?”
Flora took a breath. She didn’t want to make it obvious that she had very strong feelings about him. “I’ve spent time with him.”
“How much time? Are you?—”
“Blythe,” Flora said, breathing out, “I know you’re just trying to be helpful, but?—”
“Be helpful?” She laughed. “I don’t care about being helpful to you, Flora. If you’re caught in his web, there is very little likelihood that you’ll escape. But when you realize that it’s too late, you won’t be able to say I didn’t warn you.”
“Ok,” Flora said with a snort of laughter.
“I think he had something to do with that boy.”
“Matt?” Flora sounded incredulous. They were getting closer to her house, but not fast enough.
Blythe nodded. “All the signs were there. And there have been others. I’ve been watching. And I think you know, don’t you? That something is terribly wrong there? Something has happened, hasn’t it?”
Flora gazed out of the car window, wishing the ride was over. “You’re crazy, Blythe,” was all she said.
Still, she was unsettled. It was an insane accusation.
Blythe dropped her off in front of her house, and looked at her for a moment, pleadingly, as she grabbed her bag and swept from the car. “Thanks for the ride.”
“This is bigger than you, Flora,” Blythe said. “More people than you are in danger, and if you think you’re going to get anything out of this or come out on top?—”
“Come out on top of what?” she asked, shaking her head, flustered.
“I don’t know. But there’s something you want. You’re not going to get it.”
“You don’t know anything?—”
Blythe took a deep breath. “I’m a witch, Flora,” she said, and there was a wild, desperate edge in her voice. “I’m a witch and I can… intuit things. I could feel that… thing’s presence on the island. I can feel your… intense desire. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. I can’t see specifics. I know that something bad is happening, has likely already happened. You saw something. What happened there, Flora? Has someone died?”
Flora looked at her, thinking of Bane, the horrible accident.
“No,” she said. “Sorry to disappoint you, but everything is fine.”
“I know you’re lying.”
She slammed the door in Blythe’s face and rushed inside, where her mother was sleeping curled on the loveseat with the TV running. Flora found herself wishing she was at Rainshadow, wishing she could tell Ethan all the crazy things Blythe had just said.
She imagined them laughing together, the two of them against the world.