The Beckoning of Beautiful Things (The Beckoning Series) Read online

  Aunt Topaz stuck her head out the sliding door. “Lunch is ready! Can you girls help me take it all to the outdoor dining area?”

  “Let it go, baby sis,” Jill said firmly, standing. “Kids! Come and get lunch!”

  Just like that, Marissa had become “baby sis” and was dismissed for lunch. They may as well have patted her on the head, stuck a bib around her neck, and helped her in her high chair. Broiling, she stood up and stomped into the kitchen. Potato salad in hand, she fumed as she stormed back out to the deck.

  “Marissa! Marissa! Wait!” Jill called to her.

  “What?” Marissa said, slamming the wooden bowl on the table.

  “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. I should have asked why you thought that after all these years.”

  Marissa took a deep breath. “Apology accepted. Remember Mom’s jeweler, Diego Perona?”

  “Kind of, yes. You were the one who always went with her on her jewelry design appointments. What about him?”

  “I saw him the other day. He said he was a member of some…some club that Mom was a part of.”

  “What kind of club?”

  “You know – just a club.”

  Jill shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’re not talking about that secret sorcerer’s society Mom was supposedly invited to, are you? Mom got caught up in flights of fancy from time to time, just like you do. Dad was worried about her for a while. He talked about getting her help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “I don’t know. I just overheard him one day, talking to someone on the phone. He said, ‘Mica’s in over her head,’ and ‘I can’t help her. It’s out of my hands.’”

  “How do you know he was talking about her mental stability?”

  “I don’t know. I just assumed.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not thinking that Mom really was a witch or a healer or whatever the rumor was that floated around, do you?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “No,” Jill said flatly. “It’s not. Mom was a beautiful singer and that’s all. All that other stuff was the product of her vivid imagination.”

  “How do you know?” Marissa leaned on the teak table.

  “Because I know, that’s how. You’re talking crazy talk, Em.” She pushed a lock of hair away from her face. “And I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” She drilled her gaze into Marissa’s. “Do you hear me?”

  The patio door slid open and the others spilled out onto the deck, laughing and talking.

  “What if I can prove it to you?” Marissa whispered. “What if sorcery or witchcraft or healing or whatever you call it runs in our family? What if your daughter becomes one? It supposedly runs in the female side. Wouldn’t it be good if she had a guide?”

  Jill scoffed. “And who would that be? You?”

  “Maybe.” She tugged her sister out of earshot, underneath the sprawling Sycamore tree. “Just…just keep an open mind, that’s all I’m asking.”

  “You’re asking me to join in insane asylum thinking, that’s what.”

  “Promise me.” Marissa extended her little finger. “Pinky swear and promise me that you’ll keep an open mind.”

  Jill reluctantly stuck out her pinkie finger. “Okay,” she huffed. “I promise.”

  “Good,” Marissa said, her eyes misting. “This means a lot to me. Now I want to show you something.”

  “Get your butts over here, I’m famished,” called Declan.

  “Just a minute. Marissa’s just finishing up with a funny story.”

  “We’d all love to hear a funny story,” Cira said. “Share it with us all.”

  “It’s saucy. It’s not meant for kids’ ears,” Jill said. “I’ll tell you later.” She leaned towards Marissa and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll just make something up. What do you want to show me?”

  “You know how Logan got a shock when I was untangling his fingers from your hair?”

  Jill’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. So?”

  “So that was me.”

  “That was you what?”

  “Just what I said. That was my doing. I’m apparently some electricity current thingie.”

  “What exactly are you saying?” She grabbed Marissa by the shoulders.

  “Ouch! Stop it.”

  “Sorry. Just tell me what you are getting at.”

  “Well,” Marissa began. “I have absolutely no control over it, but I saw my fingers light up like sparklers the other day.”

  Jill’s eyes grew wide. “You have gone off the deep end, Em. You’re starting to freak me out.”

  “Food. Now,” Declan declared.

  “Just a minute. Start without us. She’s just getting to the good part.”

  “You’re being rude, dears,” Aunt Topaz said. “Please come to the table.”

  “One minute, Auntie. Really.” Jill hissed in Marissa’s ear. “If you have something to show me, do it now, as in five minutes ago.”

  Marissa raised her hand, imagined that sparkly feeling from the other night, and allowed sparks to fly from her fingers. Just as quickly, she brought to mind the cool forest.

  Jill yelped. “Holy shit, Em! What the hell?”

  “I don’t know what to do with it. But I’ve got a trainer now.”

  “We’re eating,” Justin announced.

  “We’re coming,” Jill responded. She lowered her voice and said, “This is scary, sis. I don’t know what to say. You know this…this…this…whatever you just did isn’t natural, right?”

  “How do you know what’s natural and what’s not?” Marissa’s hackles were starting to rise. “How do you think I feel?”

  “Okay, okay, okay. I’m sure it’s a shock for you, too.”

  “You think?”

  “Just keep me posted on whatever the heck you’re doing with a trainer and all, okay? I’m going to worry about you now. More than I already do.” She made a fist and lightly knocked the side of Marissa’s head. “We’re coming!” She tucked her arm around Marissa’s waist. “Great story, sis,” she said in a loud voice. “I can’t wait for the follow up.”

  “Me either,” Marissa said, holding tight to her sister. “Remember your pinky promise, J-J,” she said, lapsing into her childhood name for her sister.

  “You know, and I know, that a pinky promise is a sacred oath between sisters. You have my word.”

  A lot of good that will do. But at least I have an ally. Sort of…

  Chapter 17

  The rain began to pelt down all around, them forcing them all inside. Three wild children tearing through Aunt Topaz’s and Uncle Barry’s home seemed to make them uptight and anxious – all their sculptures and fine art were in peril. Too much wild color inside for a pastel world. Think I’ll make my exit. As she prepared to leave, her Aunt Topaz thrust a box in her hands.

  “Barry and I were cleaning out the attic the other day, and we came across this box of Mica’s belongings. I thought you might want to have it.”

  “Why me? Why not Jill or Cira?”

  “I’m not sure, dear. I just had a feeling that you might want to see what was in it.”

  “Do you know what’s in it?”

  “I haven’t looked through it for a long time. We just put that stuff up there right after Mica died. I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t have the heart to give it to you until you’d healed, and honestly, I forgot about it. I think enough time has gone by, don’t you?” She swiped a fingertip across the sideboard and said, absentmindedly. “Hmm, dusty. Anyway, I recall some of your mom’s records in there…actual vinyl…and a few cassette tapes. As to the rest, I don’t remember. You can tell me after you sort through it.” She leaned over to kiss Marissa’s face, her cool cheek frosted with translucent, slightly fragrant face powder, touching lightly against Marissa’s.

  As Marissa zipped along the wet roads – everyone in Seattle knew that summer weather wouldn’t really start until after the 4th of July - Marissa kept glancing at the box as if it would r
eveal some seething secret. It had been taped shut with more tape than was necessary, making Marissa wonder if there really were secrets in there.

  She whizzed along the road to her house 20 minutes later, only to spy that stupid Ford Fairlane parked across the street from her house. “Gah! Jason! Go away!” Pulling into the garage, she was just about to close the garage door and ignore him, when he came running across the street waving his arms. He stopped when he got to the sidewalk. It’s kind of hard to ignore him now.

  She got out of the car, slammed the door, and stalked over to meet him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice trick, baby-doll, having me arrested.” His face stretched into an evil looking grin.

  Marissa frowned slightly. She’d never seen him smile like that. “Nice trick, Jason, wandering around my house in the middle of the night. I told you to stay away. I didn’t press charges at least.”

  “That’s cool, that’s cool,” he said, tossing his head. “It gives me more street cred with my boys for having spent the night in jail.”

  “Right. I’m sure you’ve impressed your fans. So what do you want? I have company coming over.”

  “Who is it?”

  “None of your business, Jason.”

  “It’s your new guy, huh?”

  “None of your business, Jason.” She kept repeating his given name, hoping for a reaction. “Tell me why you’re here and go away.”

  “I thought we could, you know – kiss and make up.”

  Marissa’s forehead furrowed and her mouth fell open. “You’re kidding, right? We’re done.” He stepped closer to her. She smelled the 420 essence reeking from his clothes. “You’re high.”

  “Just grooving with the ganja, baby-doll. It gets me in the mood.”

  She stepped backwards. “For what? Nothing to do with me, I hope.”

  “I want to feel you, baby-doll.” He took another step in her direction. “Can’t you see how much I want you?”

  She glanced at the lump in his pants and took another step backwards. “Not happening, baby.”

  “Oh, come on, baby-doll. You know how good I make you feel. You and me – we’re special together.” He reached out to finger her hair.

  Marissa batted his hand away. “Stop it! Get away from me.” She took another step back into her driveway.

  Jason started to stride towards her and came to a standstill. He cocked his head and stared at her. “What did you do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m getting the same sensation that I got the other night - like you’ve got some voodoo mojo surrounding your house. That’s crazy, right?”

  “Totally,” Marissa said, inching backwards. “Completely crazy.” Inside, she did a happy dance. This is cool, cool, cool!

  He stalked back and forth as if a force field surrounded her house. “What did you do?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She backed towards the garage.

  “I think you do, baby-doll. And I’m going to get to the bottom of whatever it is. I told you – you’re powerful. You and me, doll, we could go places.”

  “Goodbye, Jason,” she said, backing into the garage. “We’re done here.”

  “Oh, no, that’s where you’re wrong. You and me – we’re destiny.”

  As the garage door was closing, his shouts slipped through the cracks. “I’m not done with you, baby. I’m warning you. We’re not through.”

  As the door clunked shut, she shivered. A chill raced up and down her spine. “Gah! Creepazoid!”

  She let herself into the house, placed the box on the dining table, fed the dog, checked the mail. and then readied herself to open the box. She retrieved the box cutter from the junk drawer. Sober wandered in, licking his chops. As usual, kibble crumbs covered his chin and jowl. “Where are your manners? When will you learn to use a napkin?”

  He sat down by her side, eyeing the table.

  “This is a big moment. This stuff was my mom’s.”

  He tilted his head, listening intently as if he was trying to understand what she was saying.

  “My mom died, you know.”

  Sober whined, jumped up, and placed his paws on the table.

  Puzzled, Marissa continued conversing with the Doberman. “Don’t be sad. It was a long time ago.” She slid the box cutter blade under the brittle tape and sliced. The cardboard flap popped open.

  A growl left Sober’s throat, and he dropped to all fours.

  “What is it?”

  She pried open the other flap.

  Sober barked and growled.

  The hair on her scalp tingled. “You’re freaking me out, dog. Stop it.”

  He growled once more, a deep, low, menacing sound, and backed away from the table.

  “Sober,” Marissa soothed. “Sit.”

  His nails clacked against the floor as he backed up even further, his hackles raised in alarm.

  “Sit!”

  He refused, his lips pulled back to reveal his canines. Another snarl left his throat.

  “Stop it! Go lay down!”

  The dog backed even further and began to tremble. His legs shook like a bridegroom at a shotgun wedding.

  “Sober! You’re freaking me out!” Marissa extended a trembling hand to the box and pried the flaps open.

  Sober began barking from his safe corner, causing her to jump. “Stop it! Go lay down. Go lay down.” She pointed toward his bed in the front room. The dog slunk over to the flannel covered bed and lay down, a low rumble rising from his throat.

  With the dog somewhat calmed, Marissa peered into the box. Nothing leapt out at her. There were no rattlesnakes, voodoo dolls, charms, oils, or other things that she associated with witchcraft in the box as far as she could tell. She gently lifted out several albums, their covers worn, entitled Night Songs, Passionate Rapture, il Mistero Bello, l'Incantatrice 'Canzone. Her beautiful mother was on each cover, resplendent in fine gowns and jewelry, her face both angelic and full of fire.

  She wandered over to the old Jensen stereo system in the corner, albums in hand. She chose l'Incantatrice 'Canzone from the pile, slid the album from its cover, placed it on the turntable, and pushed the play button. The metal arm lifted and swung over to the record, dropping the needle into position.

  Her mother’s angelic voice soared toward through the room, like a beautiful bird dancing on currents of air. She slid to the floor as strains of Puccini’s “O Mio Babbino Caro” filled her ears. Eyes closed, lulled by the soothing, soaring sounds of her mother’s gifted voice, the music curled around her heart like her mother’s arms, the same way it had done when she was a child. Her mom had often sung her to sleep using this song. “Oh, Mama,” Marissa said, bunching into a protective ball. “Who did this to you? Who extinguished your beautiful light?”

  When the song ended, she stood up and dabbed at her eyes with her shirt. “Damn sorcerer. Daniel’s right. He’s got to be dealt with.” But am I the one to do it? I don’t think so. She wandered back to the box.

  She pulled out a handkerchief-wrapped item, the size of a photograph frame. Sober’s head lifted, and he let loose another growl. “Stop it!” she commanded. The object was bound tightly with twine and some strange herbs. She brought it to her face and sniffed it, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She picked apart the twine and lifted the edges of the fine linen handkerchief with her fingertips.

  The dog came unglued. He bolted from his bed, barking and growling like some rabid zombie dog. Marissa screamed and dropped the frame back in the box. She lunged for the dog’s collar and issued orders. “Go lay down! Lay down. Go!” Her cheery French café ringtone blurted out, adding to the chaos, and she ran to get it.

  “Daniel? I think I’ve got trouble. How fast can you get here?”

  “Why? What is it?” he said.

  “I got a carton of stuff from my aunt and…” She placed her hand over the phone. “Go lay down! Lay down!” When the dog had settled, she resumed talking. “Sober has gone
berserk. I got this box of stuff from my mom and there was this old photo wrapped in twine. When I opened it, that’s when Sober went ballistic.”

  “Take the box outside. I’m coming straight over.”

  “But it’s raining outside. There might be other things that I want.”

  “Put it in a garbage bag then, but get it out of your house immediately.”

  Fire bells of alarm began to clang in her head. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Hold on.”

  “No, I’m leaving. Halfway to the car.”

  She listened to him panting into the phone. “Daniel?” Her voice sounded small and far away.

  “Just do what I said. Get it as far away as you can. Get it outside of the boundaries of your protected yard.”

  Pounding footsteps echoed through the phone followed by the slamming of a door. “I’ll be there as quick as I can. Go, mi corazón, go.”

  She tossed the phone on the table, raced into the kitchen, pulled a white, plastic garbage bag off the roll in the pantry, and sped back to the dining room. Sober romped by her side, chuffing with excitement. Once the box was inside the bag, she cinched the plastic tie and hustled outdoors. “Come on, dog, let’s go!”

  She sped through the wet and muddy yard, heading for the back fence. She flung the sack on the other side of the low fence and scrambled over it. Sober sailed over the railing. “Show off,” she said, breathing hard. She picked up the bag and ran into the park, the contents of the box rattling, and headed toward a stand of cedar trees.

  The trees stood in a stately semi-circle. Marissa had often sat in the center, gazing up at the sun shining through the branches or letting the fingers of fog soothe and calm her. Anything but calm, she put the box down on the still dry dirt, protected by the sweeping arms of the cedars. She leaned against the trunk to catch her breath, her legs shaking. What’s in there that made Daniel so alarmed? Sober ventured closer, growling and baring his teeth.

  “Oh, so now you are my brave warrior dog again, huh?” Her hands pressed against the rough, cool, damp bark of the cedar and she leaned her head back against it, watching the falling mist, focusing on slowing her racing heart.

  Several minutes later, Daniel called. “Marissa! Where are you?”