Enchanted, A Paranormal Romance / Fantasy (Forever Charmed) Page 4

  Wonderful, thought Mandy. She tried not to show her lack of enthusiasm as she hung up her apron on the hook and said, “Thanks, Nana.” Mandy walked back to the front, hoping furtively that Lucas had finished up whatever business he had here and would be gone. Luck was on Mandy’s side. There was no sign of Lucas, but she found Ally staring in a daze out the door after him.

  “Ally? Nana says we can go if we want,” Mandy said.

  “What? Oh, right. Cool! Let me just go hang up my apron.”

  Ally wasn’t gone long enough for Mandy to fall too much farther into her imagined hole of despair. She came back appearing to have fully recovered from the fog Lucas had left on her. “So, what do you usually like to do for fun?” she asked chirpily.

  “Not anything exciting. Mostly read, really,” Mandy said feeling self-conscious.

  Ally threw her another weird look. “Well, we are not reading tonight, Mandy. Actually I know a bunch of kids are meeting up at the Fun-O-Rama, so we’ll start there and see where we end up. C’mon!” Ally grabbed Mandy by the wrist and led her out the front door, bells tingling in their wake.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  The Fun-O-Rama was a dingy, sticky, too warm arcade sitting directly next to Short Sands Beach. The front of the arcade was completely open to the outdoors, allowing the cacophony of musical rides, coins spilling, alarms alerting winners, and the high-pitched voices of gleeful children hyped up on sugar to spill out onto the surrounding beach. The interior consisted of one large, high-ceilinged room. The floor looked original to the early 1900’s; wide, well-worn wood planks lined it, in continual need of being swept for all the sand that was dragged in from the constant influx of traffic. Another nostalgic touch was the lack of air conditioning. Large fans were situated here and there to try to cool off the masses as they swarmed the kiddy rides, skee ball games, pinball machines, and prize counter. There was not a lot of room to maneuver in there with all the kids running seemingly blindly in a frenzy to and fro, and the adults trying to keep tabs on them in between the overwhelming amount of teenage couples on dates. It was constantly sticky from humidity and children; it was dark and had a certain musty, damp smell. For these reasons, it appealed to almost everyone except parents.

  Ally pulled Mandy to this landmark on the beach, all the while chatting mindlessly, mainly about school and boys, but occasionally stopping to ask Mandy a question once or twice. Mandy tried to follow along and sound animated as she made her responses and comments, but she felt very distracted. Her stomach twisted up nervously at the doom that surely awaited her. She was anxious to just get this whole evening behind her and over with.

  Ally suddenly began to wave at a few kids and Mandy looked up anxiously. “That’s them,” Ally said to Mandy. “Hi guys!” she called as they approached. Mandy tried to at least appear confident, but she felt like a rock was in her stomach. What was she going to say to these people? If they all talked as much as Ally maybe she wouldn’t really have to worry about it too much.

  In a matter of seconds they had reached their destination. There were a few teenagers standing around in a semi-circle. They peered curiously at Mandy, giving Ally her cue. “Oh, guys, this is Mandy. She just moved here from Bean town. Her grandmother owns Dew Drops. You guys know Dolly.”

  There were a bunch of voices jumbled together as everyone said hello and introduced themselves. Mandy felt out of place. She held back a scowl as she felt her face betray her nervousness by giving into a full on blush. She tried to talk herself out of it. She focused on thinking of the color white. Maybe then the rosy-ness would leave her face. She peeked up and around at the little circle of friends who were harmlessly talking and laughing among themselves. Maybe they hadn’t noticed after all.

  “Mandy?” Ally’s elbow launched an attack on Mandy’s ribs.

  “Huh?” Mandy jumped.

  “We were trying to decide what to do. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Oh, I’m up for anything,” Mandy nodded.

  “Anything, huh?” teased a kid named Jack.

  “Hey, go easy on her Jack! Nothing too crazy on her first night. You gotta give her time to acclimate to us,” Ally laughed and the rest of the kids echoed her.

  “All right, easy for tonight…then how about Brown’s?” Jack asked.

  “Perfect. Been to Brown’s before Ally?” one of the girls, Sami, asked.

  “Oh, yeah. A lot actually. My family came here summers every year as a kid,” Mandy said.

  Brown’s was the local go-to spot for ice cream. The little town was filled with its share of ice cream joints and counters, but Brown’s seemed to win a special place in anyone’s heart who ventured up the road to it. One of the other guys, Steve had driven his mom’s minivan into town, at which he had suffered an undue amount of teasing. However, everyone now seemed to suddenly forget the dorkiness of the vehicle as they piled happily into it.

  Mandy climbed into the back of the van and strapped in, mentally assessing her new companions. Steve definitely seemed to be the quietest among the group. Jack must be the jock, Sami the cheerleader..she couldn’t be sure about anyone else in the group yet. The ride to Brown’s was quick, as the ride to anywhere in York was. It was packed as Mandy had known it would be. Brown’s hadn’t changed a bit either. It was really just a little stand with a bunch of windows in which long lines were already formed, ordering an endless array of treats. They had just about every flavor ice cream you could imagine, plus more. You could order it in a bowl, on a plain cone, sugar cone, waffle cone, single scoop, double scoop, or triple for the more adventurous. They had toppings galore, along with traditional sundaes, brownie sundaes, and banana splits. You could order a bottle of water, an ice cream float, or a blueberry soda. The lawn on front held a few picnic tables and benches, covered in a melty layer of ice cream triumphs. If you were lucky you got a table and were able to sit and slurp your frozen novelty. Otherwise, people milled around eating and talking, or went back to the warmth of their cars to eat. The downside to ice cream at Brown’s was that you always got cold. The ice cream combined with the cool sea breezes never failed to chill even the most warm-blooded person. Mandy’s teeth chattered just thinking of this.

  “All right, what do you want guys?” a tall kid named Henry called out. “It’s on me! Actually, it’s on Grampa!” Henry grinned and pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his pocket.

  Mandy glanced quizzically at Ally. “Oh, Henry’s grampa is Hank. You remember…eccentric old man at the flower store earlier? Well, he’s loaded and he’s always giving Henry handouts,” Ally answered under her breath.

  “Wow. Must be nice,” Mandy said. Although she knew she couldn’t complain. Her own grandmother had given her a boat, er car, just days ago. Everyone eagerly piped up with their orders, but Mandy felt awkward accepting Henry’s offer. She still felt too new to be part of “them”.

  “Mandy? What would you like? You look like the root beer float type to me…am I right, am I right?” Henry guessed, sure of himself.

  “Thanks, Henry. But I can get mine,” Mandy offered.

  “Aw c’mon! You wouldn’t want to spoil an old man’s fun would you? Grampa specifically instructed me to treat my friends. So what’ll it be?”

  “Um, okay then. For grampa…rainbow sherbet in a dish please,” Mandy said. “Small scoop,” she amended.

  They got their orders and took it to the little hill on the side lawn and sat in the grass to eat, as all the picnic tables were already taken. Mandy began to unwind a bit. All of Ally’s friends seemed harmless enough. Accepting even. Thankfully they didn’t bombard her with too many questions, but instead quietly talked among themselves for the most part, allowing Mandy to eat in peace without being the star of the evening.

  As she ate she let the others’ conversations drift in and out of her ears. The boys were mostly talking about the latest Red Sox triumphs and failures. The girls talked about the upcoming school year and the new wardrobes they were planning on
buying. They were trying to plan a shopping trip to the outlet stores in Kittery. “Saturday?” Sami asked.

  “Ugh, I’m out. Mandy and I are both on the schedule to work,” Ally groaned.

  “Well maybe next weekend then,” Sami answered.

  “How’s working with your grandma, Mandy?” Henry asked, all eyes and attention suddenly averted to Mandy.

  “Um, not bad, really,” Mandy answered, wanting to crawl underneath the nearest rock. It was easier to sit here and not talk then it was to have all ears turned towards her.

  “Learning any trade secrets?” Henry pushed.

  “Trade secrets? What, you mean like how to cut the stems at an angle to give them a longer life?” Mandy shot back, confused.

  Jack snorted under his breath, but Henry went on, “No, you know what they say about your grandma…”

  “No, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  Henry looked at Jack and Mandy thought she saw Ally shake her head slightly in his direction. It was quiet for a moment before he continued. “Have you ever heard of Mary Nasson?”

  “I don’t think so,” Mandy shook her head.

  “Well, your grandma, so then you too, are supposed to be a descendent of hers.”

  “And?” Mandy asked perplexed.

  “And Mary Nasson was supposedly a witch here in York in the 1700’s.”

  “An herbalist, actually,” Steve corrected quietly.

  All eyes flew to Mandy’s face to look for some sign of confirmation or denial or shock.

  Mandy gasped a bit, speechless and stunned. “A witch? C’mon guys, there’s no such thing!” A nervous laugh escaped her mouth. The laughter sounded false and too high, but the rest took Mandy’s cue and tried to laugh it off as well. All except Henry. His face was solemn, firm even.

  He shook his head and then answered, “Isn’t there? Grampa is convinced your grandma knows more than she lets on. He goes to your grandma’s shop every week to buy yellow daisies because he believes they bring him luck. He believes your grandma does something to those damn flowers, like casts a spell or something. He insists it’s true, and he insists your grandma is well aware of what she is.”

  Mandy stared at Henry, grasping for something to say. Was he serious? What was going on here? She felt she was on the verge of matching up a puzzle piece to the confusing week suddenly. Her brain was struggling frantically to find the piece and to find her something to say so that could quit staring at Henry like a simpleton. Finally another awkward laugh slipped out, shocking Mandy. She reached up to cover her mouth, surprised that it was her own voice she heard laughing. “Good one Henry!” she exclaimed, still laughing and shaking her head. “How’d you know I like ghost stories?”

  Henry’s eyes burned into her face, but finally a smile crept over his face and he joined in the laughter. The group finished their ice creams and climbed back into Steve’s car, making no more mention of the supposed legend. Mandy breathed a sigh of relief that that was over, whatever it was. Initiation of some sort? The van pulled back into town and the group said goodbye and the kids dispersed back to their own vehicles, making plans to meet up again soon. “You too, Mandy. Ally will keep you filled in,” Henry had specifically commented in what seemed more like instructions than an invitation. Mandy had just nodded silently, a small smile on her face to be polite.

  She couldn’t have been happier to get back to the security of the Boat and drive back to her own house. She was definitely not looking forward to another gathering like tonight’s. This time she had advance notice, so she would be sure to come up with some plan to excuse herself from whatever activity they were planning for next time.

  Her mom and dad were sitting in the living room watching something on the flat screen. “Hey honey! Nana said you went out with friends. How was it?” her mom called out to her.

  “It was fine. They were um, nice. Is Nana around?” Mandy asked.

  “No, she said she had some things to do around her house. She said to tell you she hoped you had fun though.”

  “I did. Well, I’m gonna go upstairs. I want to start that new book I got.”

  “Night Mandster,” Mandy’s dad called.

  “Sleep tight hon,” Mandy’s mom echoed.

  “Night,” Mandy answered.

  Once upstairs she changed into her flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. She had been hoping Nana would be at the house because she desperately wanted to question her now. As she wasn’t, Mandy decided to settle for second best: the Internet. She flipped open her laptop on the desk where it sat and turned on the little lamp. She hesitated a minute before the keys wondering which array of words she should Google first. Finally she typed in “York Beach witch”. A bunch of hits filled the screen before Mandy. One of the first promised photos and stories of Mary Nasson’s grave.

  Mandy stared frozen at the screen. This was a little eerie. So what, she said to herself. This is a small town. All small towns have their silly little legends. It doesn’t mean anything. She forced her hand to click the mouse, opening the page.

  Mandy scanned it wearily. She saw words like “white witch”, “herbalist”, “exorcisms”, and “haunted”. But it was the pictures on the page that sent goose bumps crawling up and down Mandy’s bare arms and seemed to chill her to the bone. Pictures of a tombstone. A tombstone that had the very face etched into it as was carved into the trunk currently sitting at the foot of Mandy’s bed.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  Mandy sat seemingly glued to the chair, unable to move her eyes from the screen. It was definitely the same face, she had no doubt about that. What did it mean though? Who was the face? Who was the woman? She hit the print button on the browser and a minute later the paper slid out of Mandy’s printer, the mystery image staring up at Mandy from the page. She forced herself to get up off the chair and take the paper over to the trunk.

  Mandy was chilled to the bone and she didn’t think it was due to the inclimate weather this time. She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the trunk and lay the paper down on top of it so the twin faces were both peering up, side by side. She bent over the images and compared them, even though she knew instinctively that this was unnecessary. She was sure the faces were one and the same, but she hoped there would be some minute detail that would be different. That would somehow unlink the trunk to the haunting image on the gravestone.

  Mandy started at the hair of the woman. She tried to examine it strand by strand, looking for some difference, but it curved up and away from both faces, stacked on top in some sort of up-do or bun. Whatever term you called it, they were identical. On to the face and the shape of the jaw line. They were both rounded and curved, almost having a soft angelic look about them. The eyes, perfect almond shapes with heavy lids. Noble noses, full round lips gracefully arching in all the right spots. The necks, slender, leading off into rounded shoulders draped loosely in cloaks of some sort. Nothing was out of place or amiss between the two images.

  Mandy folded the paper containing the image of the woman and opened the trunk to put it safely in there until she could decide what to do next. Maybe there would be a pocket in the lining, as sometimes you see in old suitcases, that she could slip it in to. She let her hands slide along the red silk interior feeling for a give in the material as her eyes scanned along. The shininess of the red on red silk made it hard to discern if there was any such thing with her eyes alone. She let her fingers continue on, feeling and searching out any suggestions of a place to store it. As they traveled closer to the edge of the trunk she realized the fabric was frayed a bit along one side.

  Mandy’s fingers walked along the feathered edges and realized the fabric was indeed so frayed that it was no longer connected to the wood of the trunk itself. It had come apart ever so slightly, only allowing the very tips of Mandy’s fingers entrance. Mandy thought it could probably be fixed easily enough; her grandmother would know what to do. On the other hand, there was no pocket to be found…maybe
Mandy would not mention the little tear to her grandmother. She could stash the image behind the fabric itself, no one any the wiser.

  Mandy folded the paper into thirds, and began to maneuver it delicately under the silk fabric. She did not want to damage the heirloom anymore than it was already. The paper was being difficult, however. It simply did not want to slide easily behind the fabric as Mandy had assumed it would. She put her fingers under the little give that was there and tried to see if it was not being held to the wood in other spots. As she did this, her fingers brushed on something. It felt as though someone else had already found this hiding spot and claimed it as their own.

  Paper of some sort was folded behind the fabric. Mandy dropped her own printout and began to try to get a grasp on what was behind the silk. It was pushed pretty far back. She walked over to her desk and started opening the drawers, looking for something, anything, with which she could lure the hidden contents out. A ruler! Mandy grabbed it and stuck it gingerly behind the fabric and up against the paper. She slid it towards the opening, slowly, trying not to put a run in the fabric or pull it off more from its resting place. The paper was acting agreeably and complied with the ruler, making its appearance after a moment of struggle.

  What was before Mandy was not just one paper, but several, folded in thirds as Mandy had just folded her own. They were held together by a thin string, discolored as the paper was, from age. It was tied in a neat bow. Mandy wondered how long this string had done its duty by holding the stack neatly together. She was almost scared to touch it for fear it would disintegrate into dust before her very eyes, but she couldn’t escape the urge to do so anyway.