Chapter 13 #2
“She was madder than I’d ever seen her, and the sky went black as she pulled out her pocketknife and slit her wrist, and screamed, ‘If you won’t be happy till I’m bled dry, maybe this’ll do it!
’ And then she did her spell to bring the rain, but…
her anger plus all that blood pouring out meant the storm she summoned was stronger than anything she’d brought before, stronger than anything the region had ever seen.
We had floods. Chunks of roads washed away.
Hundred-year-old trees fell. Houses were blown to kindling.
Whole herds of cows swept away by swollen rivers.
The weatherman didn’t know what to say. A freak summer tornado, he called it.
Around here, it was catastrophic. Leveled my family’s old farmhouse.
We lost everything we had, except the properties downtown. ”
“And what did Mama do then?” I ask in a tiny voice.
“Well, first, she fainted from the blood loss. Scared the bejesus out of me. Thank heavens she missed all the big veins. I carried her to the neighbor’s farm and patched her up, had to give her stitches myself because the road to the hospital was blocked.
As soon as she was better and the roads were clear, she ran away, and I never saw her again.
She never called, never sent a letter, nothing.
” I can hear strain in her voice. If she were human still, she’d be crying.
“And you didn’t go looking for her?”
Maggie runs her beak over a few long wing feathers.
“She always kept a little bottle of falls water in her purse, and I reckon she did a spell to hide from me, probably the last magic she ever did. She kept up with Tina McGowan for a while—they were best friends when they were young—and Tina has never been good with a secret, so she told her mother, Diana, and Diana told me. Your mama didn’t even invite me to her wedding. Your daddy—was he a good man?”
“He was. His name was Ed. They were in love until the end—until his heart attack. And he was good to her. No worries on that part.”
Maggie deflates a little in relief. “Thank goodness. The local boys she dated were not up to snuff. It’s a relief, honestly, to know that she had a good life.
We needed her here, but I always assumed she was too ashamed to come back after that flood, and it was easier to blame it on me.
Better to hate me than hate herself, I reckon.
I loved that girl with all my heart, and I’m so sorry we never made up before she passed. If only I’d known. When did it happen?”
“Two years ago. It was so sudden. We’d barely found out before she was gone.” Which brings up a new question about magic. “Do you have a gift? Could you have changed things? Is there magic that can cure diseases?”
A raspy chirp. “No, honey. Nobody can stop cancer. I have—I had—more influence than average. I could make folks do what I wanted. Except your mama, I guess. She was immune. You are, too, it seems.” She flaps her wings. “Or maybe parrots just ain’t magical.”
I tuck my arm around my grandmother and give her a gentle squeeze. “I can’t imagine anything more magical than a parrot who talks in complete sentences and always poops in her cage. It’s just…”
When I woke up today, I did not expect to be running therapy for my grandma, a pink-feathered witch from an entirely different era.
“You and Mama were both stubborn, and you butted heads,” I start.
“I’m just as stubborn as y’all, but my generation does things differently.
I’m angry at the situation, I guess. When you set up your trust, you had plans that didn’t involve me and my sisters.
It’s not your fault you didn’t know about us.
I’m sure you would’ve done things differently if you had. Right?”
An annoyingly long pause. “The thing I need you to understand is that this building is part of our legacy. I had to protect it. These are not just empty stores. We’ve owned this land for generations, and I’ve lived in this apartment ever since that storm.
I couldn’t allow some horrible developer to sweep in and turn this place into—I don’t know—Apple stores and cheap condos. ”
“It takes money to make a business profitable,” I remind her.
“And thirteen thousand dollars is not enough to do that and pay taxes and everything. Is there any way to change the trust? Maybe just sell one storefront so we can use that money to fix everything else? I could make a life here, but…the video store is dying. Even you have to see it.”
“Nothing gets sold!” she barks. “You have a responsibility—”
“Woman, how well did that argument work with my mother? Do not push me.”
She quiets.
“Thank you,” I say. “Now, I am currently debating whether to go back to Alabama and drag you there with me or try to patch together a life here, and it’s about fifty-fifty. So what can you tell me—without using words like legacy or responsibility—that might induce me to stay?”
Maggie flutters down to the floor. “Just so undignified,” she mutters. “Trying to be serious in this body. But I think I’m getting the hang of it. Let’s see.” She looks up, mischief sparking in her shiny red eyes. “What did you choose from the Ziploc bag?”