The Witches of Marble Falls

II

Emilia pulled her knees to her chest and rested her feet on the rock as she looked over the lake. The mist from the waterfall had collected into a thin fog that rested over the surface of the water and crept along the rocky bank. She pulled her cellphone from her jacket pocket and unlocked the screen. No messages, no notifications, no invites—she saw nothing from anyone she knew. It was as though, having left the city, her friends no longer cared about her. She had to leave behind people she had known her entire life, a boy she had fallen in love with, a school she had been comfortable attending. She had left all that, her entire life, to move to the middle of nowhere. Did they even have a high school? What were her options for college? She was so angry and hurt and broken, and memories of her parents clouded her thoughts.

'Emilia,' Agatha spoke, stepping out from the trees. 'Emilia, please. I know how difficult this is.'

Emilia bent over and picked up a small, round rock and threw it at Agatha. The woman raised her hand, fingers straight, palm facing out, and as the rock flew at her, she pushed her hand out. The rock stopped, it dropped to the ground like a drop of rain. Emilia's eyes widened, but she didn't move from the rock, nor did she demand an explanation.

'Believe me when I say that Kittie and I understand a lot more than just your parents deaths. You aren't the only ones who have lost someone, Emilia.' Agatha said as she closed the distance between them and sat beside Emilia. 'Our mother died when Kittie and I were your age, and your mother was much younger. Our father only lived another five years, and then we were alone. We raised your mother through her teenage years, and we watched as she left for college, and we called every day. But she soon met your father and the phone calls were only once a week.' Agatha stared at the water and clasped her hands in her lap. 'When they conceived you and Valerie, Eleanora only called a couple times a month. Soon, it was every couple of months. We visited the city a few times a year, and your mother and father came out here for a few weeks every Summer. Once you and Valerie were old enough, your mother agreed to send you here for Spring and Summer vacations. You two had so much fun. When your parents found out they were pregnant with Hayden and Daphne, your mother visited more often again. We reconnected, and she spent the majority of the pregnancy out here. But something happened, and when she returned to the city to have your siblings, your mother refused to speak to us. She blocked our calls, returned our letters, and she forced your father to turn us away when we visited. She even stopped sending you to visit.'

'What made her hate you so much?' Emilia asked—Agatha looked at her hands and shook her head.

'It wasn't us she hated, that she feared. She never told us. She took that experience to her grave.' Agatha whispered. She remained beside Emilia, in silence, until the stars twinkled in the sky. 'Come, Emilia, we should get back. I bet Kittie has served your brother and sisters dinner.'

Emilia lowered her feet to the ground and pushed off the rock; she followed behind Agatha through the forest, the deep green of the leaves turning black in the shadows. As they met the road, she her aunts house in the distance. When they made it up the steps and through the front door, she heard the sounds of her younger siblings laughing in the kitchen. Kittie had laid out paper and coloured pencils and little jars filled with coloured water. The twins were giggling as they painted figures with their fingers and flicked paint at each other. Valerie lounged on the window seat, one leg straight and the other bent up, a book resting against her thigh, a pensive look on her face. She glanced up from the pages, her eyes acknowledging Emilia.

'Oh Kittie, that smells divine.' Agatha said as she draped her shawl over the back of a chair. Kittie glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

'Well, it's lucky that you two are back—I was just getting ready to serve dinner.' Kittie ladled a thick liquid into bowls and cut a few more pieces of bread. She brought the dishes to the table, whispered in Harvey and Daphne's ears and followed them from the dining room. Valerie placed a piece of lace in her book and closed the cover; she sat at the table next to Emilia and handed her a bowl and a slice of bread. They did not exchange words, but their proximity and their silent communication told Agatha that their bond was strong and deep. Agatha looked at her from over the rim of her cup and Kittie caught her eye as she led the younger twins back into the room to the table. There was this way that twins communicated, no one needed to say anything, just a glance, a smile, a slight tilt of the head and the other knew what was said.