The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 1 He looked over at me from his table and I could see the

smirk behind the cup while he sipped his freshly served coffee. Hes cute ya know. Voiced a curly blonde as she spun around on the barstool. And what is that supposed to mean, Jassy? I asked. My daughter never had a problem expressing her opinion. I know you like him. I dont think that is any of your business. I reached over and tapped her head with my waitress pad. Is your father coming to get you yet? Yes, Maam, he told me this morning he would be getting here a little late. Something about picking up stuff. Good. I dont need you scaring off the customers. I looked over to the table where the man had been sitting but he wasnt there anymore. I turned to Jassy, but she kept spinning around on that stool. The bell rung and another order was ready to send out. So I picked up the plates and carried them over to the hungry couple sitting just across the new comer. I turned around after setting the two plates of burgers and fries on the table and bumped into him. Oh my, I am so sorry. My cheeks soared to high redness. I couldnt stop smiling. He wore a gray jacket and smelled of peppermint. I noticed he left his hat at the table, but my reflexes to grab it were too slow. He already had it in his hand and started to pull out his wallet. No its quite okay. He moved to the side to let me pass. You know Im new here and I am wondering if you could tell me where I can find an old antique shop round here. My family owns a place just down the road. Its a great big red barn. You cant miss it, if you just keep taking this road down until you get to the stop sign and then make a right. From there you keep following the signs for Hilmans Farm House. Thank you. he replied and dropped the cash on the table. His walk to the door was ghostly. I had to blink twice to make sure his feet were touching the tile floor. Jassy looked at me with such disgust. I gave her a look back and then the diner door opens. Her father steps inside. Whats in the box, David? I asked from behind the counter. Bottles. Bottles? Why do you have bottles, daddy? Jassys curiosity is certainly her prime motivation in life. She went right for the green one as he sat them down on the counter. I like this one. She squeaked. The bottles are for your mother. He looked at me and I knew exactly where this was heading.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 2 I unloaded the car with groceries and managed to beat the rain in time. I sat the box of bottles on the porch next to the garden gnome. He sat up all-day and all-night guarding the house from anything that comes a knocking. Its far better than a dog. Felt good to be home for a long weekend, I told myself. Then the phone rang. I kept the screen door ajar and rushed to answer. Hello? Hi, Jane. Its Mrs. McCarthy, I wanted to know when you would be free to come over to set up for the church picnic. Oh. I dont know. I havent got that far. Oh thats alright. As long as you still have time for Jesus, God will understand. Mrs. McCarthy, I just opened up my calendar for tomorrow. How does noon sound? I rolled my eyes in the process. Perfect. Thank you, Jane. I will tell the others. See you tomorrow at noon. I hung up the phone before I could say bye. Anything remotely social, she is harping for details and control. I reached over to pick up a random thumbtack on the floor when I noticed two legs standing in the kitchen with me. I sprung up as fast I could and ignored my dizziness; I saw that no one was there. The sky was dark now and I walked off to shut the front door. Then the phone rang again. Hello. I answered sternly. Is this Jane? the voice was deep and almost recognizable. Yes. Who am I speaking with? Ummmy name is John. I am the guy whowell, I am the guy that you bumped into at the diner. I froze for a second, How did you get this number, John? Well, your folks at the shop gave it to me. I wanted to buy this dollhouse and needed to know how much it cost. His energy picked up some. Your folks told me that I could speak with you to figure out a price. Well. John, it is very nice of you to want to buy the dollhouse. Last time I checked it was not for sell. It was only on display. Miss Hilman, I wanted to buy it so that I can give it to my niece. But if you do not want to sell it, I guess I can look somewhere else for one. No, lets see. I squirmed a bit. I guess we can work something out. How long are you in for? Just the weekend. Okay, well why dont you come to the church picnic tomorrow. 1 oclock it starts. Come find me at the raffle table and we will talk about it then. That sounds like a plan to me. Thank you, Jane. See you tomorrow.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 3 Youre welcome, have a nice night. Now, I had to go to the picnic and somehow keep Mrs. McCarthy from mentioning John to anyone. A loud crack of thunder hit overhead and I dropped the phone into the receiver. That night I woke up about five times before realizing that going to sleep was not happening for me, so I logged onto my Facebook account to check my notifications and to my surprise, there were six. Most were friends status updates. My best friend, Molly who lived in Maine, posted an update of her son walking for the first time, which was cute. Following that, I saw an unknown message. It was from J.R. and I had no idea that I missed reading it. Jane, I have something to tell you. The memories flood back and I found myself lying down on the grass. The sun played with my skin as it heated up and all I could do was relax in the summer light. Ready to fall asleep next to him like it was supposed to be before. Jane you might burn out here. His voice cooled over all those unbearable years of not seeing my brother. I am fine. I put on some sunscreen before we came out. I replied. Well, if I know anything about your genes then I know you are prone to coloring like a lobster. Very funny. Its come to this, to prove to me that you are older and wiser? Im just saying that being your older brother comes with a lot of responsibility he lifted himself so that his towering body formed a shadow over me. Its what we do. He continued and brushed the grass and dirt from his legs and arms. Alright. I gathered my things and we headed inside the cabin to make some lunch. The summers have always been sweet since discovering that I had a brother. Him being older made me feel safe. I didnt think being adopted like I was would have made a difference in my life. Mom died before I even knew how to walk and J.R. was only six. My aunt became my legal guardian and my dad wanted to keep my brother instead. I didnt know of him until I was in high school and he came to find me. Are we drinking tonight? He asked flat out. Now you know I dont turn 21 until tomorrow. Is it even legal, Mr. Big Brother? A smiled crossed my face. Well we have about seven hours until you can play by the rules. Or, we can speed the time and loosen up the game plan before all your friends arrive. Your choice. The look in his eyes gave me the excitement I needed to enjoy this birthday away from my parents. Lets make the night fun! He gave me my first Corona and I liked it.

The alarm next to my ear beeped continuously until I remembered that I had to put together the raffle baskets. I turned off the alarm and saw my laptop dead on the floor. There went checking the emails as soon as I could. I walked over to the desk and plugged in my laptop to charge while I began my morning.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 4 First thing was to make some hot water for tea. Drinking coffee all week upset my energy levels, I am not even so sure if it is that healthy. The kitchen floor was frigid for April. I pranced to the drawer that held my assortment of flavors and contemplated which one was just right for today. Just as I chose, the peppermint there was a heavy knock on the door. Nine in the morning and someone was already knocking. I opened the door and a deliveryman stood there with an envelope. Hello. I have a certified envelope for a Miss Jane Hilman. Thats me. I took the machine and signed my name. Thank you. He stepped off the porch and hopped back into his huge brown delivery truck. These men always seemed to be in great shape, but it could also just be an illusion because their uniforms fitted them so well. I closed the door behind me and walked into the kitchen to start the water. I placed the envelope on the table and turned on the radio not taking notice of the black figure near the basement door. I was still half-asleep, but felt like someone was watching me. I took my paranoid self to my room and changed into my comfortable public clothes. Mrs. McCarthy had breached me on what I should wear while I was representing her table at the picnic. Jeans were ok as long as no holes or stains were visible. Shirts had to be covering a good portion of the chest and bare shoulders were frowned upon. Clearly, a church picnic was the same as going to the nightclub. As a way to keep it safe, a t-shirt with a floral design on it and my non-holey jeans would do for the day. The teakettle screamed on the stove and I hurried into the kitchen with my laptop in hand and turned off the stove. I sat my laptop down and poured some hot water into my cup. The aroma of peppermint not on a Christmas day was tantalizing. My nose and mouth ravished in the freshness and crisp afterthoughts of the mint taking its way with me danced in my head. In some beliefs, tea brought healing, and I knew from experience just drinking the stuff that it calms me down and centers my own awareness. Therefore, I was going to keep believing it could take me anywhere it pleased. I looked over to the table and picked up the envelope. As I pulled it open, a ring popped into the air and I caught it before it dove into my cup. The letter managed to keep from crinkling; I slid it out and read: Dear Jane, It has been years since we last spoke and I am in your debt. Keep this token in remembrance of your mother. She wanted you to have it before she was ill. There was no name signed! Even on the outside envelope, there was no return address. I had no evidence to distinguish the persons handwriting because it was typed. I only had a ring with an engraving on the inside, Elizabeth and this lousy unsigned note. Thats moms name, I did know that much. It couldnt be J.R. who wrote this because he would have given this sort of thing to me ages ago. I did not think my mother had any jewelry in the first place. Nothing like this was mentioned before. Yet, knowing my family, why would something like this even come up. I didnt know what caused my mother to die in the first place. My aunt never talked and seemed unappreciative to raise me given the circumstances of her own lack of childbearing abilities. I placed the ring on my finger and it felt right, not too tight and not too loose. It began to reflect the morning light onto the wall. The phone rang. I answered it without hesitation, Hello? Good morning, Jane. This is Mrs. McCarthy. Im just wondering if I can come and pick up the baskets in an hour.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 5 Oh. I actually havent started on them. I still needed to glue and fill them. I blew a piece of my straggling hair out of my face. Jane! I thought I made myself clear at the meeting. I was to pick up the baskets just before 11 oclock. No, you did. I just have been busy with work and taking care of my daughter. Well, youre just going to have to bring them when you come to help set up. This is at noon and not one. Be early. God Bless. Thank you, Mrs. McCar The silence that preceded her hanging up on me was surprising. My blood began to boil. More tea, Jane. I took a sip from my cup but the elixir was far too hot for my tongue. The smell did soothe me down somewhat from Mrs. McCarthys rudeness. That woman was going to get what she deserved one of these days. Christian woman or not, if I had my way, she would not even be allowed to step foot in public or be able to volunteer for the towns causes. She is far too controlling and poking her nose into places where it did not belong was shameful in my mind. The box filled with bottles was knocked over onto its side when I went outside. I was not even sure how it happened. Probably a stray cat came by and wanted a home. I looked to the gnome as if he would tell me what evil pest did this heinous act. His painted circles for eyes stared back at me and I shifted to its mouth. Such a happy thingwell fake happy thing. A dog just might be something to consider and I reached for the tilting bottles and made sure none of them were broken. David would be rather sad if he knew his antique collection of wine bottles were murdered on my porch. I told the gnome that its his fault and carried the box into the house. I sat each bottle onto the table and began to fetch the baskets, flowers, and hot glue. There is something odd about this town. The people in it have a peculiar taste for handmade crafts. Last year, I had to make these Paper-Mache ornaments using only the county newspaper. I still have about four boxes left over containing the Charmwood County Tribune. Of course, Mrs. McCarthy was running the project and asked me to make them since I was a mother already tasked with school projects. This year the board decided to have a special theme to commemorate the abandoned pickle factory that made this town a sensation back in the 1920s. We did not have any more of the barrels used for the pickles, so I suggested we could raffle bottles. The alcohol consumption of this town was the same as it had been after the Prohibition. About a month ago, I was reading an online article that more and more people enjoyed having wine bottles in their homes for decoration. I didnt think the committee members would approve since I only went to the town hall meetings about three times a year. Conveniently, as soon as I voiced my idea there was the town parasite with a follow-up remark. Well, Miss Hilman brought up a great idea. But, I would suggest making a dual effort. What if we added the Garden Society to the project? The society has been trying to include itself for a while. We can put our flowers and logo on the bottles. McCarthy sat up straighter in her committee chair. Reminded us clearly of her position and made me madder. What if the flowers die? I retorted hotly. Mrs. McCarthy has been doing her best to keep the society afloat and I think flowers and bottles sound quite nice.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 6 My eyes darted beside me to see my Aunt standing to address the matter. She never spoke at these functions. I think what Lou-Anne said is perfect. And I would be willing to donate fake flowers so that the prizes last for a lifetime. I sat down at this point, not knowing the motives of anyone in the room. Firmly at the edge of my chair, I didnt express too much defeat. Mrs. McCarthy beamed brightly in her cushioned chair that her ideas are once again accepted by all. Well, that settles it. Thank you, Carol. Jane, youre great at making things. Lets meet for lunch sometime to work out the details. She looked at Mr. Jimson, an older deaf man that has been on the board since I was in elementary school. I will report back to you, Tom. She said each word a decibel higher. He shook his head in silence. I avoided eye contact with my Aunt for the rest of the meeting. Ouch. The hot glue went right through the petal and onto my finger. I stepped to the sink and tried to cool the sticky burn. I rubbed it gently not to make the pain worse and peeled the glue off. I dropped it into the swirling puddle below and watched the clear glob take a ride down the drain. Its half past eleven and I still needed to wrap the baskets with plastic and head over to the park. The bottles were distributed evenly. I took the two baskets and placed them both on their own transparent beds. Folded up the sides for each, I then tied some gardening twine to hold the package together. Looked like raffle baskets to me. A smile left my face as I walked the final products out to my car. I grabbed my purse, keys, and a to-go cup for my tea. Cant waste good tea, especially if it helped me from strangling people. I was about to close the front door when I realized that I had my mothers ring on my hand. I decided its best to leave it. I placed my things in the car and sat the ring on my end table. It sat there longing for attention, but I had to dash to meet the people of Harlwood.

The sun bounced itself off the parked cars and into my eyes. I forgot to wear my sunglasses. I carried the baskets close to my face. I guess hiding my arrival was something I would try to conquer. I peered over the plastic cellophane and spotted a woman in green tights and a pink floral top standing near the raffle table talking to Mrs. McCarthy. This woman had tangled brown hair in a makeshift up do. It looked like only two bobby pins were holding that mess together by crisscrossing at a point of no return. I stepped closer and overheard the name John. My senses shot up through the tree line and I felt like my astral body was hovering in the sky just watching the surrounding area for any sign of this man. Mrs. McCarthy and the other woman shuffled awkwardly as they watched me set down the baskets on the table. These are gorgeous, said the unknown fashion-dont. Jane. I would like you to meet my dear friend, Susanna Parker. Mrs. McCarthy placed her hands on Ms. Parkers bare shoulders and then a reactionary nervous smile dripped out of Ms. Parker. How do you do, Ms. Parker? I ignored the social awkwardness of her. I am good. Thank you. She batted her lashes to Mrs. McCarthy. Susanna, why dont you go find Mr. Willis and ask him to come here. Without a second, Ms. Parker swung herself around Mrs. McCarthy and went to find the police chief. Jane, these baskets sure do look mighty fine. Considering you just got those bottles yesterday.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 7 Well, David was going to come by sooner, but he does live a county over. I hope you like how I glued the flowers. It looks lovely. We just need to put the Garden Society information inside them and see if we can put the logo on the baskets somehow. Her look of acceptance turned into disapproval within seconds. I completely forgot about the information and the logos. Sorry. I sat my purse down around the back of the chair. Its quite alright. I am sure you had better things to do when you were home. Hanging up on people is quite a problem these days. And out of the blue she brought that up. Its like she had a checklist for whatever I did or said wrong embedded in her memory. She addressed the matters so acutely. I left my tea in the car. There was a storm coming in last night. I knew my phone doesnt take well with the electricity in the air. What a shame. She perked herself up from packing the brochures and buttons inside the baskets. I guess the logo will have to be placed inside as well. I stepped to the other side of the table to sit down and saw Mr. Willis coming over. Mr. Willis is coming. Heavens she patted her hair from her face, brushed the sides of her obtuse structure, and met Mr. Willis just a few steps ahead of the table. I turned to the side so that I wouldnt be accused of eavesdropping and saw more people arriving; still no sign of John though. Coming in from the north entrance was the Polinack family. They raised an autistic son and had identical twin girls last winter. Behind them walked an elderly couple. I wasnt sure what their names are but I often saw the wife in the library when I took Jassy there to pick out her monthly reading book. Her book this month was The Apple Orchard Magician. She hasnt told me anything about it, but when I read the summary on the back, it seemed to be a fantasy with a Johnny Appleseed twist. A twelve-year-olds imagination can be fueled longer and healthier by those sorts of books. My mind stepped back to the pickle picnic celebration. There were deep-fried pickles served and a clown was entertaining the kids by blowing balloons in the shape of pickles. All he added were green speckles with a marker. That clown was boring when I was in school. This town and its pickles, I tell ya. I glanced facing the baskets and overheard quickly Mr. Willis and Mrs. McCarthy mentioning my Aunts name. Carol has been doing everything she could to keep him away. Mrs. McCarthy shuffled her feet in dismay. I know, Lou. I have a job to do. And if what you say is true about this John person, I might need to take you in for questioning and Ms. Parker too. I understand. She turned around and met my eyes staring at her in worry. My eyebrows lowered quickly and I stumbled to get up. Are you alright, Jane? she asked. Yes. I am fine. Sorry, I just needed to get something to drink is all. It is getting warm out here for sure. I walked over to the pavilions protection and mulled over what I just heard.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 8 This is definitely none of my business or they would have brought it to my attention. Right? I asked for a bottle of water from the lady standing next to the cooler and blew the hair out of my face. I really wished for my sunglasses now. The water felt good on my baked lips. They were chapped from the change in weather. I walked over to the table and Mr. Willis was gone and so was Mrs. McCarthy. I reached down into my purse and sifted through the old receipts and loose change to find my chapstick. I heard someone approach the table and looked up. Good day, Jane. John was standing there wearing a light yellow gold shirt and some fitting jeans. His brown hair tousled slightly to the side as if he just woke up. Hello. I stopped searching for my lip balm and pressed my hands firmly together on the table. Would you like to buy some tickets for the raffle? Why would you ask that Jane? He isnt here for a raffle. I dont mind. Ill buy a ticket. He laughed at the offer. How much are they? One is a dollar. And four are five dollars. How is that a deal? His lips looked peculiar. Mrs. McCarthy, who is head of this table, decided the prices. I smiled at him. She thought that people wouldnt recognize that paying five bucks for four tickets would be a rip off. I admitted. Oh I see, blame the old lady. He pulled out his wallet and presented a five-dollar bill. I gave him four red raffle tickets and had him fill out his information with one of the Societys pens. Thank you. I grabbed the pen back from him and sat the tickets in the fish bowl. No problem. This dollhouse might be more than what I planned on. Oh right! The dollhouse. I completely forgot about it. I took a sip from my bottle. Well, to be honest that dollhouse was my mothers and to me its priceless. Then why did you ask me to come here then? If you werent going to sell it. He looked at me waiting for a good reason. I guess I needed to speak with you in person to know your true motives, Mr I stopped for a moment. Whats your last name? Riley. Oh thats funny. My brothers middle name was Riley. We called him J.R. A small cloud formed overhead and the shadow on us was cold and desolate. Jane. I need to talk to you. Johns face turned darker in the shadow with and worry seeped through his forehead as his eyebrows caved inward. Excuse me. The sound of Mrs. McCarthys voice pricked my existence and there I was in a situation that I felt like I didnt want to be in since last night. John. What are you doing here? she asked.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 9 Lou-Anne, I am here to talk to Jane. His stern voice eased my fear of Mrs. McCarthy. Have they met before? No. Do not call me Lou-Anne. Show some respect for a woman of status. I need you to leave this picnic. She scanned the area. There are families here. And she motioned him off the public property. Mrs. McCarthy what was that about? I tried not to sound too nosey. Jane, this doesnt concern youyet. She remarked. Have we sold any tickets? Yes, we sold four. I looked to see which gate John had left from, but could not spot his yellow shirt anywhere. I reached for my purse and continued to look for my chapstick instead. Then I remembered that I left that in my car too.

Thank you so much for picking my name. Ms. Parker told me as she grabbed one of the baskets and walked back into the crowd. Mrs. McCarthy continued to smile and drew another ticket. Her eyes widened at first and then she pretended to squint as if she could not read the name on the ticket. I guess the name on this ticket is a Mr. Riley. A John Riley? I looked at her with a blank stare. Not amused by the fake act she is putting on. Well, no sign of a John. I will draw another ticket. At this point, half of me hoped she picks another ticket with John Riley on it and the other half of me is seething with frustration of how fake she is right now. This was why I never ran for student body president in school. I loathed politics. All candidates put on a show to be elected and they either took over like a dictator or became a lazy bum expecting everyone else to do their work. She cleared her throat and called out another name. This one I didnt recognize and appeared to be a no-show too. She chose her final ticket and if this person wasnt present, they would forfeit like the other attempts and the remaining raffle is then used for the coming year or following festivity. All depended on Mrs. McCarthys feelings though. Her shoulders jolted down as she called out John Rileys name. I never saw her look so spooked in my life. Then concerned voices chattered through the crowd. John resurfaced and walked through the people untouched by their murmurs and gasps. By the looks on everyones faces, the whole town knows of Mr. Riley, but I am left in the dark once more. He approached the table and Mrs. McCarthy stepped down from her speaking platform and confronted him. I looked around to see if Mr. Willis was near, but I didnt see him. Im here to pick up my winnings. He said firmly. Im sorry John, you were not here during your first calling. I cannot let you take this basket. She pressed her hand on top of it as if she made it herself. I moved to the side of the table to avoid any physical confrontation. Not that I think Mrs. McCarthy knew how to throw a good punch let alone, insinuate that John would ever touch a woman. You dont know John, Jane. The thought is eerie and so I confirmed my retreat. I was using the restroom. I am entitled to what I literally paid for, Mrs. McCarthy he pulled his hands out of his pockets and motioned to take the basket.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 10 She snapped her arms back, put her hands on her hips, and rolled her eyes. Did someone take on Mrs. McCarthy and win? I wanted to know who this John was right now. Thank you, Mrs. McCarthy for understanding. John looked at me while he took is winning basket and left the same way he came. Seeing him in this situation was like seeing a new man. A dangerous man. I never in my life she continued to mutter as she trailed off toward the parking lot. I stood up to address the bystanders. There is nothing left to raffle off. Thank you so much for your contributions on behalf of the Garden Society and the Church. I thought I was pleasant enough in my closing remarks, but they gave me awkward glares as if I didnt belong and scattered away. Mr. Willis came behind the table as I gathered the moneybag, left over tickets, and a few society pamphlets. He asked me if I could speak with him. I took notice that more clouds had come in quickly since we started the drawing. It looked like another storm was to come. Hello, Mr. Willis. I said. Jane. Do you know who John Riley is? He looked at me. His crystal blue eyes and his white hair made him look like a wizard in this gray light. He was at the diner yesterday and went up to the antique shop. I started playing with the moneybag zipper. Is there a problem? Ive been an officer for quite some time and my position in this town is not as old as what appears to be going on under the surface here. His voice was raspy now. Jane, I need you to be careful and to keep Jassy safe. I know David is here, but what if he wasnt? You have a little girl to protect thats your priority. Mr. Willis bringing up David at this moment riled me inside. My ex-husband even though a good father was not always a bright husband and Mr. Willis was right to tell me my concern is Jassy. Was John as dangerous as everyone was making it seem? I know. I sat in the chair taking in whatever he told me. Mrs. McCarthy looks out for you and this town which is a mighty task for her to do. But remember that I am the chief here and so trust me when I tell you, this John Riley is not a man to meddle around with. I know you dont know him, which is good, but I have my feelings that things might turn inside out. He rested his hands in his pockets. You have a good rest of the day and stay dry. A storm is settling in town. He walked off toward the pavilion. I gathered the table items and saw people heading to their cars. It started to sprinkle. I needed to find Mrs. McCarthy to give her the tickets and the moneybag. I went to my car, sat my purse inside, and saw Mrs. McCarthys car still sitting in the lot with the drivers side door open. I walked over to it and saw her body lying on the ground. [CHAPTER 2] I walked onto the elevator and the smell of lotion and sweat wrestled with my nostrils. Perhaps the housekeepers needed to spray the air freshener again. Mrs. McCarthy was in Room 315 I reminded myself. This was my first time seeing her since her stroke last week and Im with Ms. Parker. Her hair

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 11 was well kept compared to the picnic version of her. I am still confused, why Lou-Anne wants to see me so soon, Ms. Parker. Well, dear, its the time for something like this to happen. Ive been good friends with Lou-Lou for years. Wow! Lou-Lou, thats a first. I never heard anyone refer to Mrs. Lou-Anne McCarthy, No. 1 Busy-Body in the state, as Lou-Lou. I guess they really were best friends. I know this is hard for her to deal with. She likes to keep moving and sitting still is not her cup of tea. Oh, you got that right, young lady. I smiled at being called young lady. I felt like I was in my teens again. Jane you are 32. I snapped myself back. The elevator doors opened and we headed left to the nurses station. The heavyset nurse in her bee print scrubs peeked her nose over her puzzle book and we asked to see Mrs. McCarthy. She told us to wait. I never wanna be put in here when the bolts come out of me. Ms. Parker took out a tissue and blew her nose into it giving me time to respond. I dont think you look that old. I saw what you were wearing at the picnic. Green tights that couldnt have been more age defining. Oh honey, thats what we wore in the 50s all the way to 1985. Its timeless wear I like to call it. She swiveled her top dentures as she talked. I never noticed how mature Ms. Parker was when we met. Maybe makeup did take the years away or those tights. Thats nice. I looked over to see the nurse heading toward us. Mrs. McCarthy is ready to see you both. And she guided us down the hall and stopped at the second to last room on the left. Ms. Parker walked in first since she was clearly more comfortable with her long-time friend. I thanked the nurse and followed inside. I saw a picture of Jesus Christ on the wall and only one Get-Well card placed on the dresser beside her bed. That mustve been from my Aunt Carol. I remembered Jassy getting the same card in the mail when she had the chicken pox, but the stores did carry them everywhere, so who knows where she got it. There were no remnants of a roommate yet, which was beneficial to the roommate and nurses. Since Mrs. McCarthy was very independent. Her room had two chairs set up on each side of her bed. I took the one farthest from the door since Ms. Parker claimed her seat faster than I did and switched on the nearby light. Its about time, you arrived. Ive been waiting all day for you two to show. Her voice was calm. This was the weakest Mrs. McCarthy, Ive ever seen. I started feeling bad for her. Luckily, the stroke was not high risk or she would not be able to talk at all to us. Suzy thank you for bringing Jane. It isnt a problem, Lou. I hope shes ready for it. She patted Mrs. McCarthys hand in affirmation. I sat here thinking why I could possibly needed to be ready. Considering this was my second meeting with Ms. Parker, and Mrs. McCarthy couldnt maintain her social status as she laid in a hospital bed. I looked and saw mystery unfold around them. Ms. Parker looked over to me. Jane, Lou and I have things to tell you. You two better wait! In came my aunt holding a book in one arm and flowers in the other. Carol, what are you doing here? Ms. Parker shocked to see my aunt. I stayed quiet.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 12 I decided that I wanted to see Jane take in all of this. I am her mother anyway. She sat on the corner of Mrs. McCarthys bed. Well, not biological mother, but I had a major role in shaping her life. So just because Im not like you, dont mean I cant be included. She let out a sigh and handed me the flowers to place on the dresser. Thank you for the flowers. Mrs. McCarthy added. If you want to be here then you must swear in secrecy like you did thirty some years ago. The thoughts that were running in my head right then were going so fast that nothing made sense. I drifted to when my aunt and Mrs. McCarthy had lunch one afternoon while I was sick during the school year. I lay on the couch ill and they sat in the kitchen. She is only a girl right now and wont understand. I heard Mrs. McCarthys voice. Lou, I know. I thought Ive been keeping a firm hand with her. Carol explained. Its her brother putting these flighty thoughts into her head. Well, its only time until she will be sought after. I could hear Mrs. McCarthys voice lower when she said this line. Soon I was back in the room. Jane, we need you to focus and understand us. Mrs. McCarthy caught my full attention. Sorry, I was day dreaming. Jane, your family has not always been normal. Ms. Parker knew how to lay it on nice and thick doesnt she. I stared some more. Sue, I think I should tell her. Mrs. McCarthy motioned for the book from my aunt. Jane, your mom did not die exactly the way we told you she died. I dont understand. They havent talked about my mom at all since I could remember. Aunt Carol, you never talked about my real mom. I felt edgy. I couldnt. I swore not too. She looked away. Jane. You and your mom were given gifts that not many people have access too. I focused my stare on the wall now, shocked that theyre bringing up my mother. I wished J.R. was here. Jane you are part of an ancient lineage of healers and sages that are centuries old. We all are except for Carol. You, we think, are the last one holding our ancestors power. The looks that Mrs. McCarthy and the others gave to me were foreign. This had to be a joke. Was I a witch? I like tea and talk to my porch gnome that doesnt make me a witch, does it? Are you kidding me? This is far from possible. We all go to church and Mrs. McCarthy you are the most religious person I ever met. I am astonished. Their faces did not change. Well what am I supposed to do then? This isnt some Hollywood version of witchcraft. It isnt looked at that way in the society

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 13 Society? Are you saying the society that co-sponsored the raffles? I felt my breath intake was picking up faster and the room got warmer. Jane, the Garden Society is how we keep ourselves hidden. Its all in the book, here. The book was the size of my Aunts scrapbooks from home and I took the book cautiously. Skimming through the cloth pages, I could tell the age of the book. It felt centuries old. On the front cover was the Societys logo, the same we used for the baskets. There were flowers and leaves stuck inside. Handwriting that looked to have been written with a quill. I stopped at the blank pages that were near the end of the book. Confused, I asked, Why are these blank? They are left for you to finish. Ms. Parker replied warmly. Then there was a knock on the door and a new nurse entered. She had red curly hair that pointed to her being Scottish and pale skin, but brilliant green eyes; made me feel like she was a friend. Lou-Anne, visiting hours are over. She stepped closer and smiled at me. Hi, Jane. My name is Gil. I am honored to finally meet you, with odd circumstances even. Well it is nice to meet you too. I am enamored by her presence. Gil is a healer, Jane. Mrs. McCarthy reckoned. Ms. Parker turned to Gil. Being a nurse is a very good trade for you. Oh thank you. Ive grown so much since you last saw me. Gil said. Ms. Parker nodded her head and smiled as Gil walked out of the room. She seemed really pleased to meet me and Ms. Parker. Well, more will come later. Time to go. Jane keep the book and read it over tonight. I can answer any questions you may have tomorrow. If you choose to come that is. Mrs. McCarthys eyes lit up with anticipation and so I couldnt turn from everything now. I would be glad to. I am just taking this all in. And right you are. Ms. Parker chimed in boldly. We got up from our roosts and I placed the massive book in a duffle bag that I hadnt seen Gil carry in while I was mesmerized by her beauty. I looked at Mrs. McCarthy before I left the room and saw that she already was resting her eyes. The smell of the place seemed to vanish. Ms. Parker pushed the elevator button and we waited in silence until it came. We stepped inside and the doors closed. Ms. Parker whispered into my ear, It wont be so bad, once you know how the ways work. My aunt fiddled with trying to find her keys in her pocket and jokes. Im sure you tell the truth. We laughed.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 14 The night was cool and I could see thousands of stars in the sky as we exited the nursing center. I said goodbye to Ms. Parker as she drove off listening to the Beatles. My aunt and I had parked side by side which was the roll of luck. She looked at me after we hug. I never hated your mother like I led you to believe. You didnt fool me. I felt ashamed as soon as I let the words come out. I didnt know what else to say. The pressure of finding out Im this witch and every perception I had of Mrs. McCarthy and my aunt were fake. Yeah, Mrs. McCarthy really knows how to act. I think I want to talk about this tomorrow. I opened my car door and she stopped me. The moonlight was glistening on us now. I am glad to see that youre wearing your mothers ring. She paced back to her car, scooted inside, and smiled lightly toward the steering wheel. I stood there staring at the ring on my finger. My mind soaked up the spring breeze. I saw her taillights as she drove off to home. I hopped into my car and felt the tears build beneath my cheeks ready to pour out through my eyes. But I held them in and too drove off into the darkness. Not knowing if my Aunt had sent me this ring.

I stopped stirring my tea to hear if Jassy was still in the house. She came barreling down the stairs and ran into the kitchen. I passed her lunch and a speedy peck on the cheek. Hey, bring home your math book. I yelled as she left the house. Math was not her strongest subject and neither for me when I was in school. But working as a waitress, my skills to add and subtract improved quite a bit. Especially when we have those truckers coming in off the highway and they decide to drop Ben Franklin in front of my eyes. Wish I had a couple of Franklins to accompany me once in a while. Today I am supposed to go see Mrs. McCarthy. I glanced at the book now sitting on my kitchen table. I walked over to it, sat studiously, and wondered what I needed to add to it. Looked pretty full to me. I moved my attention to my hand where my mothers presence caresses me. Her ring looked pretty in the sun and moon. Does this have magic in it? No, this was not Hollywood like Mrs. McCarthy made clear. But why keep this from me. My aunt didnt say she mailed it to me either which still is on my mind. And I am back to not knowing a single thing besides what I was told by a mysterious letter. I took a drink of the Jasmine tea I made and the taste was ever so sweet. I switched to raw sugar cane this time. The bleached white sugar apparently kills. Everything kills in this life. Moderation is what keeps you alive. Goes for sex too, but I am out on expiration with that one. I turned to the first page of the book and saw a directory of names which took up three pages front and back. I scanned to the last entry and there she was. Elizabeth Jane Maxwell. I was named after my mother. Beside her name was the word healer. This brought a smile since I have always imagined her to be of the healing type. I looked at some other names and spotted a Mary Revere and she was a named a sage. Marcy Jameson sage, Linda Murrayhealer, and wait! Suzanna Parker. My eyes widened and I bent to look at the inscription more closely. Shifter. They hadnt told me that one! It looked like the so-called occupations were more titles that are descriptive closer to the present date. I searched to find Mrs. McCarthy but she wasnt listed. I am not even sure of her birth year. Thats strange. I glanced back to the last entry, there is only one line underneath my mother, and it had been filled in with my name. Jane Lydia Maxwell. Seer. I looked to see if there are any other seers mentioned in the list and only one appears. Rose Black. I felt the room shift.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 15 My eyes flipped upwards form the book and I saw him standing in my kitchen holding what looked like a knife. He came at me. I screamed and threw my teacup through his transparent body. It smashed onto the living room floor. His body disappeared. I freeze onsiteparalyzed by the sight of my dead brother. I shook off the ghostly ice that froze my body together and walked into the living room to pick up the pieces of my broken cup. I wiped the floor clean with a paper towel and threw the shards away. I closed the book and reach for the phone to call my aunt. Trembling fingers, I managed to press the call button. She answered busily. Hello. Aunt Carol, I just threw my cupa ghost was J.R. It all rushed right out of me. I never talked to someone like my life depended on it before. Jane. What are you talking about? It dawned on me that what I just told her made no sense. I was reading the book and I looked up and saw the ghost of J.R. I threw my favorite tea cup at him and he vanished. I stopped to take a breath. He had a knife in his hand. Are you sure it was J.R.? She questioned me like I was living under her roof. I am positive. He looked hurt. Maybe throwing my cup was too much. Jane, you should come to the shop and we can talk in person. I might not know the ways, but I know what Ive read in the book. She sounded embarrassed but willing to help me. You read the book? Yes. I was curious. Your uncle and I wanted you to be safe, and to learn about what this hokey pokey stuff your mother was involved in and why my brother had such eccentric taste. Her voice quivered. My dad. My mind lost its hold on the conversation and I blacked out.

I felt warm hands holding my face. My head throbbed and it took a few tries to open my eyes. I peeked through my lashes to see my aunt and a man standing over me. I noticed I have a pillow underneath my head. Welcome back, Jane. Her voice was angelic. Wha I trailed off and realized what just happened. I didnt break the phone did I? No, no you didnt. Jane, you passed out and your mother here called us. I saw the EMT badge on the mans coat. I need you to tell me if anything is very painful. I just bumped my head a little. I remember going to sit down when I was on the phone. I was nervous at the thought of him writing this information down. I wondered if Aunt Carol told him what I saw.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 16 Jane, I have everything here I need. There is no need to worry, no signs of a concussion. But if you develop a headache or pain go to the emergency room immediately. He stood up and smiled at my aunt. Congratulations on the baby, Carol. I stared at her with one eyebrow raised. I managed to sit myself up and rub the back of my head. I felt my hair getting knotty. What baby? She looked at me. I may have told a small lie to keep your ghost sighting a secret. Now I saw a brave and daring woman in my house. This couldnt be my aunt. Strictly lying to an authority member? You lied to him. I said placidly. I know, Bill, if the words ghost and attack came out of my mouth, you and I would not be in this house. Why did you call him here anyway, if you didnt want the attention? I sat with my head between my legs now. She turned away and began to help herself at boiling some water. Is she having an affair? Since your uncle and I took you in as our own, our relationship has been distant. My ears perked to a faint pout coming from her. We never even thought of the repercussions on his side when we took you in. Repercussions? I moved to the end of the table where the book was sitting. She rummaged through my neatly organized tea assortment. That took a good hour to sort through! Jane, there is far more you need to know. She picked my last bag of chai. I felt she would. Like the story of Adam and Eve in the bible, your nature too consists of opposites. I touched the book and she sat down beside me. Placing the seeping tea away from her, she tilted the book sideways and opened to a faded picture. In the horizontal image, there were two groups of people, feminine figures with the Garden Society symbol hanging from their necks and brutish men holding staves and swords wearing long black cloaks. Some men appeared to offer these women to a gray shadowy figure near the top of a mountain while others stood in front of a man holding a cross and a ring. I looked up from the watercolor display. Is this the past? I asked. It mentions some brief history in the text from firsthand knowledge, but I only know the watered down version from Lou-Anne. She kept the book open and began her story. It was the painting of this picture that revealed to the whole world the inner workings of how Christianity became so widespread and popular. True the many battles fought helped keep this promise alive, but it was the sacrifices made to this gray beast that kept that preacher preaching. Her foot began to tap a little. The bonds between the darkened magic that these men possessed and the roots of this new religion were only kept by sacrifices of innocent women and the leeching of their spiritual energy by marrying these virtuous women. So that, man holding the cross and ring, is he Jesus? I squirmed a bit in my seat. I still cant believe all of this was happening. None of that we know. I tried to understand the connection for many years now, but there are missing pieces that I cant venture to find out. She sipped her tea quietly.

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 17 Well, its either Jesus or Moses. Moses was working with a mountain. I remember that much from Sunday school. I looked perplex in my own thinking. Jane, this goes back centuries and this book, Im guessing, is as old as the printing press itself. Marriage has changed since this painting. Okay. I know that marriage is not all what its cut out to be. Youre speaking to a woman that has been divorced for two years. Besides, divorce, look at the gay community. I watched her dribble some tea back into the cup. Yeah, they cant get married because people believe in this God and forbid the notions homosexuality. This was a passionate topic for me to talk about since those two new lesbian couples entered the town a few years ago. This arrival sparked me to attend my second town hall meeting ever. They originally did not want those people to live here around the children, but I spoke on their behalf. I felt a pure love driving me to such an act, but I wanted those people to feel like this pickled town of a mess was good for them too. My heart raced with excitement remembering my advocacy and I saw my Aunts expression stay still. Jane, your assumptions can be true, but as far as I know, that preacher in the image is a sinned man because he is working with evil. And that beast I had thought for years to be the devil. Her voice cracked. Ive always thought that the women of the society were Gods angels and these men to be a demonic trick of Satan, but the social situation or marriage being evil, I dont think so. Well, maybe the situation defines a marriage. What if you had to get married and if you didnt want to then you would be thrown to the beast? My voice raised and I got up to get a glass of water. Ok, well, let me finish. I scampered back to my seat and listened to her speak. Lou-Anne mentioned to me that what this beast feeds off of is love. Since most woman are healers and that is a pure natural gift by love, thats who was sacrificed more often. These sageshave you looked at the list in the front? Yes I have. I turned to the front of the book. Well, these sages are mix-bloods of the man and woman that have pure gifts in them. I nodded my head as she continued her lecture. So, the world is more complicated since then and these communities have all types of people with special talents that grow at different times. What about you and the rest of the normal people. I added. These pure can produce normal humans too. I think when a pure blood meets a normal blood it cancels out making a normal child or a child with delayed powers. Humans arent supposed to carry this gift? Not that I am aware of, but of course the power of love changes people. Perhaps the power of lust. She winked, but kept a serious tone. Since you know this much, I can tell you that I am normal, and your uncle is nothe is pure. Is that why you cant have children?

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 18 Well, we arent sure. From a normal perspective, its a medical case of infertility. Weve tried, but grown distant since your arrival into our lives because he had to confess that he was once a pureblood. A fly buzzed around our heads and I picked up a newspaper and smacked it when it landed on the table. Aunt Carol jumped in her chair. JANE! she eeked. Im sorry it was bothering me just as much as you. I chuckled to myself. Go on. Your uncle is no longer capable to have children because in his day he started fighting on the wrong side, against his own brethren. And he met me about a month after he was exiled from his own right. They stripped him of his ability. Then you came along, my brothers child and we had to nurture you. You uncle had to tell me his role in this bizarre game. She looked out the kitchen window. The light hit her face making the half of her so dark and invisible. Have you talked about this since; do these people know where to find him? I leaned forward. He hasnt spoken about it since Lou-Anne and Mr. Willis dropped you off at the house. They questioned him at first and he denied it. But eventually he came out. You could see the terror in her eyes. I was so shocked by everything. My husband, a man that I thought I knew so well, turned out to be a keeper of secrets. And I had no idea why I didnt piece this together before, but my brother often left to go to summer camp. My parents put a lot of their time and energy in raising him. I always thought it was because he was the oldest. But no. She turned to face me and the dark shadow moved across her head like a snake slithering on water. My brother was just like your uncle, one of these magical men. What do you mean? I replied. Her voice lost touch with the present. I was playing in a forest clearing one day and I heard some voices. I hunched real low to the ground in the tall weeds to keep cover. I then saw my brother and some man with him. The man wore a black business suit and had a wooden cane with him. But he wasnt that old. They separated themselves in the clearing and my brother walked past where I was hiding. I remember holding my breath as his shadow crept over my body. The older man yelled something and my brother moved his arms and flames came right out of his hands. I backed up from the clearing and ran through the woods. I told my mom when I got to the house everything I saw, but she dismissed me casually. My eyes were open. My ears were open. My mouth was shut; since flies were flying, I didnt need to have an early lunch. The aunt I knew weeks ago was so different sitting in my kitchen right now. She was more real. I felt like I could connect with her. I let her finish. Jane, your father and I were separated since then. I had to stay with my parents and they sent him to a boarding school. I still dont know if it was a special training school for all of this, but I havent spoken with him until he was due to be married. He wanted you at his wedding? Yes. Which it makes sense now, since these ceremonies need love to live. I loved my brother very much. I figured that one day he would come find me. Never did, only cared about his magical ways, I guess. Her eyes began to glisten. Did my dad love my mom?

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 19 I never understood why she was with him. We met briefly at their reception, she was in the bathroom and I had been crying in one of the stalls. I didnt know it was her, but she came over and asked what was wrong. I told her that my brother, hadnt spoken to me in years and I didnt understand why he wanted me at his wedding. She stepped away from the stall and I could hear her gasp. Silence was heavy in the room. But she left just as these other women entered. Oh no. My mouth dropped open. It was about a month later when I received a letter from your mother and we were to meet in secret. She told me things about her like her extraordinary power to heal, and stories of my brothers dealings with a covenant. How did she die? It came out like water. I didnt even sound nice, but cold and direct. I felt more rage inside me than sorrow for my Aunts life. I guess it stemmed from my dislike for my father choosing J.R. when mom died. Does this mean, J.R. was magical? My eye twitched and the phone rang before she could tell me. I got up quickly to answer ignoring that I just stubbed my toe off the leg of the table. Hello? I tried to hold my attitude. Hi, Jane. This is Suzanna. Oh, Ms. Parker, how are you? Im fine. I have some troubling news. Lou passed away last night. I came to see her this morning for your induction ceremony, but the nurse told me they no longer were keeping her. I heard the sobs in her throat. My aunt gazed out the window; lost in her world. Jane, I need you come here to help me clear her things. Oh I will. I am so sorry. I felt the weight pulling me down into the chair. Ms. Parker, I am on my way now. Youre still at the center right? Yes. Yes. Im here. See you soon. I hung up the phone and put my hand on my aunts shoulder. Lou-Anne is dead.

The funeral lasted longer than I thought. And I did not want Jassy here for it. She was only 12 years old and Im sure Mrs. McCarthy understood that childs attention span was nonexistent. People came from all over the county to pay their respects to Mrs. McCarthy. She has no living relatives that I knew, but the town was her family. As for her husband, no one knew anything. She kept that information to herself and now would be with her forever. Ms. Parker spoke passionately at the service and when we had light refreshments afterwards, I had her sit down because she looked way too worn out to greet people. I ended up taking on that task. My aunt was back to her normal self and helped keep the food and drink circulating throughout the rooms. My uncle did not attend. One interesting woman with pale eyes and a scarf around her head arrived in such a fashion that other women greeted her presencewomen from the Garden Society to be exact. I walked over to meet

The Women of Harlwood by Bernard Charles Page 20 her, but more older women crept in before me. She noticed me waiting awkwardly and motioned the women to leave. They scattered like cockroaches in light. I smiled and reached out to shake her hand. I know who you are, Jane. She kept her hand to herself. You do? Oh ok. I straightened up and widened my stance. Jane, Lou-Anne was my sister. Rose is that you? Ms. Parker had popped up out of nowhere and embraced this oddity of status. I sensed something weird about this woman. Wait, you are Mrs. McCarthys sister? I never knew she had a sister. I mentioned. Yes. Rose, Lou, and I used to be a knockout trio in our day. Ms. Parker wrapped her arm around the tall woman and took her to the food table. I stared as I noticed, Rose had a faint scar on her neck. The cleanup took longer than the funeral did, but luckily, David dropped Jassy off a bit earlier to help Aunt Carol with the dishes so that I could step outside and speak with David. I dont think that is a very good idea, David. Why not? She and I will only be gone for a month. You know where the cabin is. You do remember where it is right? His puppy dog eyes always did get to me. I know where it is. But no, I dont think taking her out of the country during the summer is smart. Especially given your track record. I told you. I have been clean for years now. This is not fair for her or to you. Look at you. You are working more and running around with these old women. I think Carol put you up to all this. He kicked the wall of the porch. No. David! My blood boils. This lashing out is what made me leave you. I dont want my daughter to think that kicking a wall is going to make things better. It destroys things. Fine. Ive tried everything I can to get you back, but you wont come backwhy? In this moment, I saw him at a bar chugging his last beer and getting into his truck all in my head. The lights were bright. And I felt like Ive been torn up and wrapped around a telephone pole. His voice brought me back. Jane. Are you listening to me? Iyeah. Sure. I lowered myself to sit on the stoop of Mrs. McCarthys house. You cant have Jassy for that long. Youre going to start drinkin again. I looked at him. Im what? He walked away, slammed his truck door, and drove off. Jassy came running outside. Where is daddy going? Hes going to go home. I picked myself up and walked her back into the house.