Enchanted, A Paranormal Romance / Fantasy (Forever Charmed) (22 page)

“Beats me. I wouldn’t worry about it, Steve. I mean she’s a self-proclaimed psychic. She’s supposed to be eccentric, you know? It’s part of the package deal, part of the show.”

“You don’t believe it then?” Steve asked, sounding interested.

Mandy sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what to believe any more. I mean, a few weeks ago I didn’t believe in healers, witches, whatever it is that I am, and now looking at me, studying for my big witchy finals or whatever it is Nana is putting together,” Mandy laughed. “I guess if I believe in that, in myself, I kind of owe it to Ophelia to believe in her, or at least her potential to be what she says.”

“Then why doesn’t it bother you? What she said I mean?” Steve pressed.

“I don’t know,” Mandy shrugged again. “One thing I’ve learned is that I don’t know a lot. I guess it doesn’t bother me because she didn’t say anything bad, only mysterious. It’s not like she said a black cloaked demon would be coming for me at midnight tonight,” Mandy laughed, feeling more relaxed than she had all day. “She said you were my hero, coming to rescue me, and if that’s the truth, well, I wouldn’t mind it.” They had reached her car and Mandy slipped into it and looked up expectantly at Steve for a response.

“Well, I don’t know as if I’m hero material, but I’ll sure as hell try,” Steve said leaning down to kiss Mandy. Mandy breathed in feeling like she was pulling some of Steve’s reassuring nature into herself.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, not wanting to leave but knowing she had to.

“Yup. Oh here, don’t forget your craving!” Steve said handing her a popcorn bag through the window. Mandy drove off, watching Steve grow smaller in her rearview mirror. Maybe he was right, maybe it would be ok after all.

* * *

Chapter 22

“York Beach, Maine, is known for its sweeping beaches, small town atmosphere, old-fashioned clean family fun, and little else. What if I said there was something more compelling, mysterious even, underneath that façade? Would you be intrigued? Would you want to know more? Would you even believe me?” Steve read the article to Mandy the next day at lunch. They sat in a corner at a table away from the busy hub-bub and chit-chat, the din of teenage cacophony drowning out Steve’s voice to everyone but Mandy and himself. Mandy was biting her nails to the quick and completely ignoring her bagged lunch in front of her. Steve pulled her hand from her mouth and continued on. “I’m sure most of us locals are familiar with Mary Nasson. We grew up on her story, rumors, and school field trips to her grave. For those of us non-locals who may be vacationing in our deceptively innocent town, Mary Nasson is our own reputed Witch of York. Legend goes that Mary Nasson practiced witch craft on the unsuspecting locals back in 1774 until the local doctor found out about her wicked ways and turned the truth loose on the town. Mary Nasson was found guilty of witchcraft and was promptly hung. Times have changed and while most, if not all, people of today have dismissed witchcraft as the fodder of fairy tales just as many of us have always just accepted this story without so much as blinking an eye. We are all familiar with the Salem Witch Trials and if asked to describe in one word those proceedings, a good adjective would probably be horrifying. It was horrifying that so many innocent people were let alone tried for accusations so absurd, let alone die for them. Yet somehow, our own little piece of history has just been accepted, overlooked, brushed aside even. How do we justify accepting Mary Nasson as a witch? How do we justify the fact that an innocent woman was executed as such? Why has never anyone wondered about the actual story behind the legend? Take for instance her grave. There is a large slab of stone, known as a wolf-stone, laid across it between the headstone and the footstone. I could approach any of you townies and ask the reasoning behind such a thing, and I’m quite confident that your answer would be
to keep Mary’s spirit from wandering
. What we learn on the playground is seldom forgotten, however untrue it may be. The real purpose of a wolf-stone is in fact to keep wild animals, such as could be found back in Mary’s day, from rooting up bodies. While this may paint a disturbing image, it was actually a necessity. Families of the deceased were responsible for keeping up the plots of their loved ones themselves. If they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, then a wolf-stone was often placed on top, not to keep spirits in, but to keep animals out. In Mary’s case, her husband moved away after she passed, hence the wolf-stone. Now that you know this bit of knowledge, I hope many of you are questioning yourself about the legends themselves. The root of the story, that Mary was a witch, is not entirely incorrect. The term witch is incorrect. What Mary was in fact, was a healer, which can be easily confused with the term witch. The major difference between the two is that one deals in white magic and one deals in dark. Yes, shocking as it might be to begin to conceive of such a concept, Mary used magic to heal people. She never used it darkly. She used things found in nature: flowers, plants, and herbs to make her remedies. There was no pointy hat, or flying brooms, just Mary, nature, and her intrinsic belief that she could heal. The one time she failed was a case that even the esteemed doctor would have failed. Her patient, some may be familiar with his name as her victim Elias Donagel, suffered from smallpox. There was no cure, medicinal nor magic, that could have cured Elias. Upon his death, the doctor began to cry witchcraft against Mary simply because he was losing business to her. In other words, revenge, pure and simple. In that day, if you were an accused witch you didn’t stand a chance. Unfortunately, Mary’s fate is proof enough of that. I’m sure many of you are wondering what source my information is being taken from. Turns out our quiet little town has direct descendants of Mary, and the doctor, living amongst us. One of them, who for the present moment, shall remain nameless, kindly came forward with the information and evidence, in the form of handwritten correspondence between the doctor and Mary herself. In my subsequent article to be published next Friday, I will be including the names of the descendants as well as the correspondence itself. Stay tuned!” Steve folded the paper in half again and laid it down next to his untouched food. “Well, not so bad! You weren’t even mentioned.” He smiled at Mandy.

Mandy’s hands were back in her mouth, nibbling away nervously at the remains of her nails. “Yeah, not yet. Did you even hear what you read? Next week she’s releasing the names!”

“So what? Sounds like she’s putting a positive spin on your side. I would be more worried if I was Lucas.”

“Ugh. I guess. Can you imagine the tension this will cause though? It’s pretty much going to pit my grandma against Lucas’s dad. Awkward…” As Mandy trailed off she suddenly realized it was very quiet, too quiet. She looked around and saw only a few kids still milling around the cafeteria. “Steve! The bell must have already rung! Shoot!” Mandy jumped up and started stuffing her uneaten lunch back into her bag. “If I’m late to Mr. Grant’s I’m going to get lunch detention.”

“Go! I don’t want to be eating alone tomorrow. Ms. Foster is pretty lenient about tardies. I’ll see you after class!” Steve threw a quick kiss on Mandy’s cheek.

Mandy started to run off but paused and turned back towards Steve. “Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you but I’m gonna be a little tied up after school for the next few weeks. I’m starting
practice
.” Many made air quotes as she said the word practice.

“Oh awesome!” Steve grinned. “Suppose I can’t come and watch, can I?”

Mandy grimaced. “Not yet. Maybe if I ever figure out what I’m doing.”

“You will. Now get to class!” Steve said in a firm voice as he shook his finger at Mandy, imitating Mandy’s teacher, Mr. Grant. Mandy giggled and ran off towards her classroom, hoping to leave all thoughts of witchcraft behind her in the cafeteria, at least for now.

* * *

Chapter 23

Mandy soon realized that being tied up with “practice” as she had told Steve, was the understatement of the century. It was more like she was bogged down in a pit of quicksand, barely able to keep her ground. She and Steve had thoroughly covered the flower book and then two more volumes from cover to cover and then her grandmother had actually given her a written test on them! Mandy had balked at the idea at first, but Nana had insisted, saying that before Mandy could begin the hands on lessons, she needed to be quite familiar with the basics. Realizing she really didn’t have a choice in the matter if she wanted to learn the craft, she had consented and had only missed three questions out of the hundred Nana had given her. Steve’s notecards had really paid off. Now that that was behind her, Nana had agreed that it was time to begin Mandy’s hands on training.

Mandy was more excited at this prospect than she had been about anything in a long time. The only thing that put a little gloom in her newly found sunshine was the fact that in order to practice she had to give up most of her free time with Steve. She still saw him at school of course, but whereas before she had spent most afternoons and weekends with Steve when she wasn’t working, she was now constantly with Nana. She loved spending time with Nana, and it was really exciting to finally be part of something that was bigger than she was, but she missed Steve. Consequently, she found herself sneaking phone calls in to him whenever she could.

“How’s it going?” Steve asked, genuinely interested.

“I mean, it’s really cool watching Nana, and knowing what’s behind what she’s showing me, but it’s really kind of hard to pick up. Kind of frustrating, you know? I feel like this should be easy, but it’s actually not.” Mandy was barely talking above a whisper. She was working her shift at Dew Drops and technically was not supposed to be on the phone. She had pulled the old black rotary phone that sat on the counter as far to the edge as she could and had stretched the phone cord so that she was standing as close as she could to the corner. The bell on the front door tinkled announcing a customer and Ally glared at Mandy as she stood to assist the visitor. Mandy felt a twinge of guilt as she turned away from Ally so her back was facing out. Things between the two of them had been a little tense lately. Mandy supposed it was due partly to the fact that she spent any extra time she had with Steve and partly because Ally had been lately doing the brunt of work at the store. Between Mandy hiding on the phone or Nana calling Mandy to the back to “work on a project”, Mandy hadn’t been either very helpful or friend-like to Ally lately. Mandy sighed into the receiver.

“What’s wrong?” Steve said, picking up on the guilt-laden sigh.

“Just same ol’ stuff,” Mandy said not wanting to get into it all at that particular minute.

“Mandy! Come back here for a minute, Dear. I think this would be useful for your project!” Nana called from the backroom. Ally came out from the back after giving Nana the new customer’s order. She shook her head at Mandy and huffed away from her.

“I gotta go,” Mandy said, talking in a normal volume. It was no point trying to be sneaky or unnoticed now. “Call me later!” Mandy placed the receiver back on the cradle. “Ally, I…”

“Mandy, Dear! Sometime today!” Nana called impatiently.

Mandy sighed and Ally raised her eyebrows at Mandy expectantly. “I gotta go see what Nana wants,” Mandy said, suddenly glad for the distraction. She didn’t really feel like confronting Ally anyway just now. She walked to the back without waiting to see Ally’s reaction.

Nana was waiting for Mandy with an empty vase on the table in front of her. “Ok, did you get a good look at the customer?” Nana asked hopefully.

“No, I was kind of on the phone. Sorry,” Mandy said sheepishly.

“Now Mandy, it’s very important for you to assess the customer. Take a peek out and tell me what you see.”

Mandy walked back to the door, cracking it open ever so slightly. An elderly woman was gazing at the flowers in the glass-door refrigerator. Mandy let the door close and turned back to her grandmother who was waiting expectantly. “It’s a little old lady,” Ally said shrugging.

“Focus Mandy!” Nana sounded a bit exasperated. For the past week Nana had desperately been trying to teach Mandy how to read people. Reading people was the term Nana used for essentially guessing, as Mandy saw it, a person’s possible ailments or troubles. Nana had insisted that if Mandy believed in herself and was able to fully concentrate on a person that she too would be able to correctly identify the problems. So far for Mandy, this had been a bunch of stabs in the dark. Nana had told her that Mandy would get a sense of what was ailing the customers, either in the form of a sudden thought, or even through a sudden feeling. Mandy had tried to focus, to concentrate, to believe in herself, but none of her guesses had panned out. It had passed the point of frustration for Mandy. She was beginning to feel angry. She was a healer, this was supposed to be inherited, easy. She didn’t want to go back to be a nothing and a nobody. Her purpose in life was dangling right in front of her, just out of her reach. If only she could figure out a way to grab it. Mandy turned back to the door, feeling white hot determination mixed with anger flowing through her veins. “What are you feeling?” Nana asked from behind Mandy, anxiously.

“Angry!” Mandy barked.

“That’s good! That’s it! Let the anger guide you!” Nana sounded hopeful.

Mandy peeked out the door again at the old woman. She was wearing a blue knee length dress that buttoned up the front, with three quarter length sleeves. The dress was kind of modest and old-fashioned but fitting for the woman who donned it. She had a blue kerchief tied around her head, covering her hair. Mandy bet she had just come from the beauty parlor and didn’t want to mess her hair up. She stared at the woman hard, watching her every move. She had bent to smell some roses and was now slowly straightening back up, her chin lifted in the air a bit, one hand on her hip. “Now what?” Nana urged.