[1. WANDERING STAR - PORTISHEAD ]
My Mother's coffin was nestled inside a freshly dug rectangular hole, several feet deep. I stood before the dirt pit while blinking rain out of my eyes, the rich smell of earth filled my nostrils.
The scent kept my body grounded throughout the funeral service. Yet mentally I was gone, ebbing between disbelief, numbness, agony.
Even well after the others had left the grave site, my eyes remained fixed upon the straight edges of the hole she was buried in.
How did they get the hole so perfectly squared off like that? Was it a special tool or someth–
“Andrea?"
I didn’t recognize the voice that had pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to a plump red-headed middle-aged woman smiling at me beneath a wide-brimmed black hat.
A black lace-gloved hand extended out to me.
“I’m Brandy," she said with a warm southern accent as I shook her hand. “I’m the executor of Sandra's will.”
I didn’t even know Mom had a will.
“Oh, hi.”
“You’ve been away from Ohio for a while, right?”
I nodded. “I’m moving back here, though.”
“Temporarily? Or permanently?”
After a glance back into the pit, I shook my head. “I'm not sure, yet.”
“Well, it matters some, because you’ve inherited her house and her store.” She gave me a slow once-over. “Where’s your umbrella at, honey? You’re soaked now.”
My leather jacket had done little to repel the water. My hair and jeans were soaked.
I didn't even feel it, to be honest.
“There’s something I was instructed to give you right away." She pulled a yellow envelope from her vinyl purse and handed it to me. "It's some kind of talisman your Mother asked me to keep in my safe. There's a letter with it, too.”
I nodded absently, tucking it under my arm to shield it from the rain.
“Thank you.”
Brandy looked over her shoulder. The last of the funeral-attendees had left, it was just the two of us, now.
“You’re driving back to the house alone, hon?”
"Yeah."
She stared a moment with a look of concern.
“Wanna drive with me? We can get your car another time.”
“That’s okay. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
"Then I'll see you there. Take your time with her.” She smiled with warmth and patted my upper arm before leaving my company.
I turned back to Mom’s grave.
She died from a heart attack, they said. Not even fifty and kept in amazing shape. No drugs. Not a lot of drinking.
It didn’t seem real or plausible that someone who ate healthy and did all the right things still would die from something like that.
And she left me all alone.
I didn't have any family left. I mean, I had Mom’s coven. I had friends.
But they weren’t a replacement for her.
“I still needed you,” I whispered.
My last memory with her was from a pay phone two months ago. I begged her to wire me cash because my boyfriend had kicked me out of his apartment. I didn’t have enough gas in my car to make it out of LA.
I said I would call her when I was settled at a friend's house and never did, I completely forgot.
Some fucking great kid I was.
Just before she died, I considered returning home to Ohio. I figured I could go back to school and do something productive, like be a court reporter. Or maybe get my degree in business, and we could make Mom’s little Wiccan shop more successful.
Now that she was gone, the thought of even stepping into that store made me sick to my stomach.
I got into my red ’89 Honda, dropping my purse and the yellow envelope onto the passenger seat.
The "talisman" Brandy spoke of fell out of the envelope. It was a black roped necklace, with a blood red stone at the end. There were symbols engraved on it I didn't recognize.
I picked up the stone, feeling it over my palm. It was... eerily warm. The red coloring looked like streaks of blood, the black glittered, andalmost moved.
I had never seen a stone or gem like that before. And considering my Mom was a witch, I thought I knew every single rock and crystal that existed.
There was a folded note still inside the envelope and I opened it up, eager to see her handwriting again.
Andi,
I should have given this to you a long time ago, but I never wanted to change your life path. You were so happy and full of hope when you left for LA. I hope you stay that way forever.
No one makes your choices for you, except you.
Love always,
Mom
I was crying again. Frankly, I was surprised there was any moisture left in me. It was that ugly type of crying that made your whole face twist up and made your stomach clench.
I sobbed still as I pulled the necklace around my neck.
The stone hung just at my chest, hardly any bigger than a quarter. There was a strange weightiness to it, though, for something so small.
But in a way, I found it comforting. It was like she was still with me.
The reception was held at Mom’s house.
When I climbed up the steps and moved inside, I fell into a daze, witnessing an endless sea of people congregating. A cacophony of voices overlapped, though none of their conversations registered.
My mind wanted to shut off and go somewhere else where it was safe, and I went on auto-pilot.
Someone from Mom's coven plopped me into a seat. Someone else put a plate of food in front of me.
Hundreds of people and different faces passed by me. They all said things to me. I must have said things back, but I couldn’t remember any of it.
Really, though, how did they make those perfectly squared-off rectangular holes for the coffins? Was it a special kind of shovel?
I wish I knew someone who could explain that to me. Probably someone who worked at a hardware store would know.
Or a lumberjack? Outdoorsy type?
I huffed with amusement through my nose. Didn’t know anyone like that. I'd have to go to a library and find out myself, I guess.
“Andi?”
I snapped out of my reverie, finding myself staring down at black boots. Slowly, my gaze trailed upwards, surprised to find a familiar face in a police officer’s uniform.
“Andrew?”
He gave me a tight, sympathetic smile, pulling his tan brimmed hat off his head and revealing the same sandy blonde hair I remembered fawning over as a teenager ten years ago.
We dated in highschool, and even got the annoying Andy & Andi nickname from everyone.
“Hey. Long time no see. Um, I wanted to stop by and pay my respects. And to say I’m sorry.”
I nodded absently as my gaze darted away at the millionth reminder Mom was dead. It still didn’t feel real.
My eyes locked onto a broad, muscled figure standing near the front door, his hands were tucked into his jean pockets.
He was noticeably larger than anyone in the house, well over six foot tall. And while I couldn’t see his face, there was a lovely swathe of brown hair swept back, curling just at the nape.
What caught my attention more than anything was his red flannel shirt. It was rolled up at his elbows, exposing the wide, corded muscle of his forearm. He used those muscles often.
Oh, this man had to be a lumberjack.
He’d know the answer to my question.
As if he knew I was watching him, the man's head lifted and turned to me.
Sharp, rich blue eyes pierced and locked me into place, making my spine stiffen without my say-so.
He was beautiful. Plush lips, sharp cheekbones, thick brown eyebrows, a faint brown stubble.
He belonged in an underwear ad.
Who was he? How did he know my Mom? God, I hoped I wasn’t ogling an ex-boyfriend of hers.
That would be gross.
“--anyway, my Mom kept in contact with yours and she’s the one who told me– I didn’t want you thinking I was stalking your family or anything like that.”
I blinked several times, focusing on Andrew again. “Huh?”
His expression turned sheepish. “Nothing. Just, sorry for your loss. Are you staying here for good? Or...”
“Not sure,” I replied, glancing over again to find the lumberjack. He was gone and I frowned.
“Well, give me a call if you need anything. My number’s still the same.”
“You’re still at your parents' house?”
“I took over their mortgage, just me living there, now. They got divorced a handful of years ago.”
"Wow. I’m really sorry to hear that.”
He gave a short nod, then awkwardly waved the policeman's hat at me. “Anyway, call if you need anything.”
Andrew left, and before I could begin a search for the lumberjack again, another one of Mom’s friends called my name, this time holding my attention with an offered slice of blackberry pie.
I accepted it.
The reception ran for a couple hours, before people began to trickle out. It was getting dark outside.
I caught a glimpse of the lumberjack again in the kitchen, but lost him when one of Mom's friends asked me where the vacuum was kept.
I returned from the hallway with the vacuum, and saw the front door quietly open and close, a flash of red flannel.
He was already at the bottom of the porch steps when I raced out there.
“Wait!”
The lumberjack paused, turning on his heel. Those blue eyes connected with me again, making me kind of nervous, like they could control me somehow.
Was this really about the square-digging shape thing, I wondered? Or did I just want to know who he was?
My feet shuffled. “So, um, you knew my Mom?”
Oh my God. That was the dumbest question I could have asked. Obviously, he did.
His eyes softened a moment, and he gave a brief nod. “Yeah.”
Gauging by that soft response, they had been together. He didn’t look like he was forty yet, but Mom was known to be a bit of a cougar.
And... well, she had good taste.
“Oh. Well, thanks for coming by.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to her. I didn’t know her that well, but she was a good woman. Respected around here.”
My face blanked. “Wait, you didn’t date her?”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“You didn’t–” I huffed with laughter, shaking my head at myself. “Nevermind. You know what would be perfect?”
He moved closer, looking up at me from the sidewalk as I stood at the top step of the wooden porch.
“What’s that?”
“If you could tell me how they dig those perfect rectangular holes for the coffins." I made a ninety-degree angle with my hands to illustrate my point. "Like… the edges are super clean. All the holes I’ve ever dug are misshapen.”
His expression changed as a hand moved over his brown hair, and he brushed it back absently. My fingers itched to do the same to it, but that would be downright creepy.
“They use excavator machines. And shovels.” I really liked how deep and soothing his voice was.
"Huh." My shoulders heaved at that. Guess I didn't need to go to the library after all. "You’ve been like a weird guardian angel for me tonight.”
His head tilted, the surprise on his face only showed for a split second. “How’s that?”
“Well, that square hole thing had been bugging me all night. And every time I would talk to someone I didn’t like, I'd look over and you were there. Just off in the corner. Saying it aloud makes you sound like a weirdo, admittedly, but… at the time, it was nice. So, thanks.”
A soft huff of amusement came through his nostrils, I think that was his way of laughing. He shook his head.
“I’m going to head out. Sorry again for your loss.” He paused, seeming to remember something. “Did you know the passenger side headlight on your car is out?”
“It is?”
“You know how to replace them?”
My lips pursed. “No.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Does… your boyfriend know how to do it?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” And my last ex had to be taught how to use a can opener.
He sighed, now studying my car in the driveway. “Okay. I’ll take care of it in the morning. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh… you don’t have t–”
“Don't. I said I'll do it. Just leave it at that.” Well, that was abrupt. And rude.
He was being helpful, though, so I withheld a smart-ass response.
The man was halfway down the pathway before I called out again.
“Hey!”
Patient as ever, he turned back around.
“What’s your name?”
“Austin.” He gave me a faint smile as he turned away, making my insides feel funny. “Good night, Andrea."
