you loved me! I thought that meant—"
"I told you I didn't want to do that!" Mary K. cried. I flung
open the door to find Bakker Blackburn entangled with my
sister on her single bed. Her legs were kicking.
"Hey!" I said loudly, making them both jump. Their heads
turned to stare at me, and I saw relief in Mary K.'s eyes. "You
heard her," I said loudly. "Get off!"
"We're just talking," said Bakker. Mary K.'s hands pushed
against his chest, and he resisted it Fury roiled inside me, and i
raised the bat.
Whap! I gave Bakker a smart rap on his shoulder to get
his attention. I hadn't been this furious since Bree and I'd had
our last fight.
"Ow!" Bakker yelled. "What are you doing? Are you nuts?"
"Bakker, get off!" Mary K. said again, pushing at him.
I thrust my face close to Bakker's, and with my teeth
clenched, I spoke as menacingly as I could. "Get the hell off
her!" Bakker's face went stiff, and he quickly moved away from
the bed. He looked embarrassed and angry, his eyes dark. Then
he snapped out his hand and knocked the bat out of my grip.
My jaw dropped in surprise as the wood went flying across the
room."Stay out of this, Morgan," he said. "You don't know
what's going on. Mary K. and I are just talking."
"Ha!" said Mary K., jumping up from the bed and yanking
down her shirt "You're being an ass! Now get out!"
"Not until you tell me what's going on," Bakker said. "You
said come over!" He was almost yelling, his voice filling the
room. "You said come up here! What was I supposed to think?
We've been going out almost two months!"
Mary K. was crying now. "I didn't mean that," she said,
holding her pillow to her stomach. "I just wanted to be alone
with you."
"What did you think being alone with me was all about?"
he asked, his arms wide. He took a step closer to her.
"Watch it, Bakker," I warned, but he ignored me.
"I didn't mean that," Mary K. repeated, crying.
"Jesus!" he said, leaning over her. My teeth clenched, and
I started edging over toward the bat "You don't know what you
want"
"Shut up, Bakker," I snapped. "For God's sake, she's
fourteen."
Mary K. cried into her pillow.
"She's my girlfriend!" Bakker shouted. "I love her, and
she loves me, so stay out of this! It's none of your business!"
"None of my business?" I couldn't believe what t was
hearing. "That's my little sister you're talking about!"
Without planning it, I snapped out my arm, finger pointed
at Bakker. Before my eyes a small ball of spitting, crackly blue
light shot out of my finger and streaked toward him, hitting
him in the side. It was like the light I had given to Jenna last
night, but different Bakker yelped and stumbled, clutching his
side and clawing at the bedspread. I stared at him, horrified,
and he stared back at me as if I had suddenly sprouted wings
and claws.
"What the hell—," he gasped, clasping his side. I was
praying blood wouldn't start running out through his fingers.
When he took his hand away, there were no marks on hit shirt
no blood. I breathed out in relief.
“I'm out of here," he said in a strangled voice, lurching to
his feet He turned back to look at Mary K. one last time. She
had her face buried in her pillow, and she didn't look up. With a
last glare at me Bakker stormed through the bedroom door and
pounded down the steps. The front door slammed moments
later, and I peeked out down the stairwell to make sure he was
gone. Through the front door sidelight I saw him striding fast
down the street rubbing his side. His lips were moving as if he
was swearing to himself.
Back in Mary K.'s room, she was holding a tissue to her
eyes and sniffling.
"Jesus, Mary K.," I said, sitting next to her on the bed.
"What was that about? Why aren't you at the diner?"
She started crying again and leaned forward into me. I
put my arms around her and held her, so thankful she hadn't
been hurt, that I had come home when I had for the first time
in a week it felt like the two of us again, the way we used to be.
Close. Comfortable. Trusting each other. I had missed that so
much."Don't tell Mom and Dad," she said, tears wetting her
cheeks. "I just wanted to see Bakker alone, so I told them I
needed to study, and I had them drop me off here while they
went to lunch. Its just—we're always with other people. I
didn't know he would think—"
"Oh, Mary K.," I said, trying to soothe her. "It was a huge
misunderstanding, but it wasn't your fault. Just because you
said you wanted to see him alone doesn't mean that you're
obligated to go to bed with him. You meant one thing; he
understood another. What's awful is what an ass he was being.
I should have called the cops."
Mary K. sniffled and drew back. "I don't really think he
was going to... hurt me," she said. "I think it kind of looked
worse than it was."
"I can't believe you're defending him!"
"I'm not," said my sister. "I'm not defending him, and I'm
definitely breaking up with him."
"Good," I said strongly.
"But I have to say, it really wasn't like him," Mary K. went
on. "He's never pushed me too far, always listened when I said
no. I'm sure he'll be really sorry tomorrow."
My eyes narrowed as I looked at her. "Mary Kathleen
Rowlands, that's not good enough. Don't you dare make
excuses for him. When I walked in here, he was pinning you
down!"
Her brows creased. "Yeah," she said.
"And he knocked the bat out of my hands," I said. "And he
was yelling at us."
"I know," said Mary K., looking angry. "I can't believe
him."
“That's more like it," I said, standing up. “Tell me you're
breaking up with him."
"I'm breaking up with him," my sister repeated.
"Okay. Now I'm going to go change. You better wash your
face and straighten your room before Mom and Dad come
home."
"Okay," said Mary K., standing up. She gave me a watery
smile. "Thanks for rescuing me." She reached out to hug me.
"You're welcome," I said, and turned to go.
"How did you stop him, anyway? He said.'Ow!' and then
fell against the bed. What did you do?"
I thought fast "I kicked his knee and made it buckle," I
said. "Made him lose his balance."
Mary K. laughed. "I bet he was surprised."
"I think we both were," I said honestly. Then, feeling a
little shaky, I went downstairs. I had shot a bolt of light at
someone. Surely that was strange, even for a witch.
15. Who I Am
September 1, 1982
Today we're moving out of this hellhole, to a town about
three hours north of here. It's called Meshomah Falls. I think
Meshomah is an Indian word. They have Indian words all over
the place around here. The town is small and very pretty, kind
of l
ike home.
We already have jobs—I'm going to waitress at the little
cafe in town, and Angus will be helping a local carpenter. We
saw people dressed in queer old-fashioned clothes there last
week. I asked a local man about them, and he said they were
Amish.
Last week Angus got back fro Ireland. I didn't want him
to go, and I couldn't write about it until now. He went to
Ireland, and he went to Ballynigel. Not much of the town is left.
Every house where a witch lived was burned to the ground and
now has been razed flat for rebuilding. He said none of our kind
are left there, none he could find. Over in Much Bencham he got
a story that people have been telling about a huge dark wave
that wiped out the town, a wave without water. I don't know
what could cause or create something so big, so powerful.
Maybe many covens working together.
I was terrified for him to go, thought I'd never see him
again. He wanted to get married before he left, and I said no. I
can't marry anyone. Nothing is permanent, and I don't want to
fool myself. Anyway, he took the money, went home, and found
a bunch of charred, empty fields.
Now he's here, and we're moving, and in this new town,
I'm hoping a new life can begin. --M.R.
Late that afternoon I decided to hunt down my Wicca
books. I lay on my bed and cast out my senses, sort of feeling
my way through the whole house. For a long time I got
nothing, and I started to think I was wasting my time. But
then, after about forty-five minutes, I realized I felt the books
in my mom's closet, inside a suitcase at the very back. I looked,
and sure enough, there they were. I took them back to my
room and put them on my desk. If Mom or Dad wanted to make
something of it, let them. I was through with silence.
On Sunday night I was sitting at my desk, working my
way through math homework, when my parents knocked on my
door."Come in," I said.
The door opened, and I heard Mary K.'s music playing
louder from inside her room. I winced. Our musical tastes are
completely different.
I saw my parents standing in the doorway. "Yes?" I said
coolly.
"May we come in?" Mom asked.
I shrugged.
Mom and Dad came in and sat down on my bed. I tried not
to glance at the Wicca books on my desk.
Dad cleared his throat, and Mom took his hand.
"This past week has been very ... difficult for all of us,"
Mom said, looking reluctant and uncomfortable. "You've had
questions, and we weren't ready to answer them."
I waited.
She sighed. "If you hadn't found out on your own, I
probably never would have wanted to tell you about the
adoption," she said, her voice ending on a whisper. "I know
that's not what people recommend. They say everyone should
be open, honest" She shook her head "But telling you didn't
seem like a good idea." She raised her eyes to my dad, and he
nodded at her.
"Now you know about it," Mom said. Part of it. anyway
Maybe it's best for you to know as much as we know, rut not
sure. I'm not sure what the best thing is anymore. But we don't
seem to have a choice."
"I have a right to know." I said, "it's my life, lea at I can
think about It's there, every day."
Mom nodded "Yes, I see that So." She drew in a long
breath and looked down at her lap for a moment “You know
Daddy and I got married when I was twenty-two and he was
twenty-four."
"Uh-huh."
"We wanted to start a family right away," said my mom.
"We tried for eight years, with no luck. The doctors found one
thing wrong with me after another. Hormonal imbalances,
endometriosis ... it got to where every month I would get my
period and cry for three days because I wasn't pregnant"
My dad kept his gaze on her. He freed his hand from hers
and wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead.
"I was praying to God to send me a baby," said Mom. "I lit
candles, said novenas. Finally we applied at an adoption
agency, and they told us it might be three or four years. But we
applied anyway. Then..."
"Then an acquaintance of ours, a lawyer, called us one
night," said my dad.
"It was raining," my mom put in as I thought about their
friends, trying to remember a lawyer.
"He said he had a baby," my dad said. He shifted and
tucked his hands under his knees. "A baby girl who needed
adopting, a private adoption."
"We didn't even think about it," Mom said. "We just said
yes! And he came over that night with a baby and handed her
to me. And I took one look and knew this was my baby, the one
I'd prayed for for so long." Mom's voice broke, and she rubbed
her eyes.
"That was you," Dad said unnecessarily. He smiled at the
memory. "You were seven months old and just so—"
"So perfect," Mom interrupted, her face lighting up. "You
were plump and healthy, with curly hair and big eyes, and you
looked up at me ... and I knew you were the one. In that
moment you became my child, and I would have killed any. one
who tried to take you away from me. The lawyer said that your
birth parents were too young to raise a baby and had asked
him to find you a good home." She shook her head,
remembering. "We didn't even think about it, didn't ask for
didn't care where you had come from or why."
I clenched my jaw, feeling my throat start aching. Had my
birth parents given me to someone to keep me safe, knowing
they were in danger somehow? Had the lawyer been telling the
truth? Or had I just been found somewhere, after they were
dead?"You were everything we wanted," said Dad. "That night
you slept between us in our bed, and the next day we went out
and bought every kind of baby thing we'd ever heard of. It was
like a thousand Christmases, all of our dreams coming true, in
you."
"A week later," Mom said, sniffling, "we read about a fire
in Meshomah Falls. How two bodies had been found in a barn
that had burned to the ground. When the bodies were
identified, they matched the names on your birth certificate."
"We wanted to know more, but we also didn't want to do
anything to hurt the adoption," said my dad. He shook his
head. "I'm ashamed to say, we just wanted to keep you, no
matter what"
"But months later, after the adoption was final—it went
through really fast and finally it was all legal and no one could
take you away—then we tried to find out more" Mom
continued.
"How?" I asked.
"We tried calling the lawyer, but he had taken a job in
another state. We left messages, but he never returned any of
our calls. It was kind of odd," Dad added. "It almost seemed
like he was avoiding us. Finally we gave up on him.
"I went through the newspapers," Dad went on. "I talked
to the reporter who had covered the fire story, and he put me
in touch with the Meshomah police. And after that I did
research in Ireland, when I was there on a business trip. That
was when you were about two years old and your mom was
expecting Mary K."
"What did you find out?" I asked in a small voice. "Are
you sure you want to know?"
I nodded, gripping my desk chair. "I do want to know," I
said, my voice stronger. I knew what Alyce had told me and
what I had found out at the library. I needed to know more. I
needed to know it all.
"Maeve Riordan and Angus Bramson died in that barn
fire," my dad said, looking down as if he were reading the
words off his shoes. "It was arson—murder," he clarified. "The
barn doors had been locked from the outside, and gasoline had
been poured around the building."
I trembled, my eyes huge and fastened on my dad. I
hadn't read anywhere that it had definitely been murder.
"They found symbols on some of the charred pieces of
wood," said Mom. "They were identified as runes, but no one
knew why they were written there or why Maeve and Angus
had been killed. They had kept to themselves, had no debts,
went to church on Sundays. The crime was never solved."
"What about in Ireland?"
Dad nodded and shifted his weight "Like I said, I went
there on business, and I didn't have a lot of time. I didn't even
know what to look for. But I took a day trip to the town where
the Meshomah police had said Maeve Riordan was from:
Ballynigel. When I got there, there wasn't much of a town to
see. A couple of shops on a main street and one or two ugly
new apartment buildings. My guidebook had said it was a
quaint old fishing village, but there was hardly any sign of it or
what it had used to be."
"Did you find out what happened?"
"Not really," Dad said, holding his hands wide. 'There was
a newsstand there, a little shop. When I asked about it, the old
lady kicked me out and slammed the door." "Kicked you out?" I
asked in amazement Dad gave a dry chuckle. "Yes. Finally,
after walking around and finding nothing, I went to the next
town—I
think its name was Much Bencham—and had lunch in the pub.
There were a couple of old guys sitting at the bar, and they
struck up a conversation with me, asking where I was from. I
started talking, but as soon as I mentioned Ballynigel they
went quiet 'Why do ye want to know?' they asked suspiciously.