When I woke up with a start, one of many times that night, I realized that my dreamcatcher still hung in Friedrich. Even as the ice floe was undetectable during the day, the door to the other side was flung wide open when I closed my eyes. A flood of voices rushed at me to tell their stories that night, so many untethered spirits searching for a friendly energy.
Around that aptly named witching hour, I gave up on sleep and lay awake studying the room. My body was exhausted, but I couldn’t make myself close my eyes and venture unguarded into the spirit world again. Without my dreamcatcher and without Magda’s cedar chest nearby, I feared I wouldn’t have the strength to draw the veil between worlds firmly back into place.
Streetlights outside on Marquette Avenue lit the room with a milky haze. It didn’t look anything like it did during the day. An insidious shape hung across the second-floor window, swaying slightly. I reminded myself, There’s an elm tree there on the sidewalk. An unidentifiable form occupied the desk chair, making it look like someone sitting there, like one old woman in particular come to hunt me down.
My heart raced as I told myself it was nothing, nothing at all in that chair. But I was alone in a big city, and I was drunk. The pit in my stomach grew and my eyes ached as I stared at the ceiling. But I refused to look at the chair and acknowledge who or what lurked there.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I was abruptly awakened by the clanging of the bell for breakfast. Solstice, Magda, the fire—it all came back to me in a rush. That really happened quickly followed by Oh God, what did I do?
Groggy and shocked that it was six AM already, I felt like I had a mouth full of cotton. I finally understood that phrase. I sat up slowly and forced my gaze on the suspiciously empty chair. I laughed unconvincingly at my fear and racing heart of the night before, but I knew all too well that an empty chair in the morning didn’t mean I had been unwatched at night. I shook my head to banish the all-too-familiar form from my mind. It was a dream, I told myself with false conviction. A drunken dream.
My head pounding and with no responsibilities, no one waiting on me, I decided to forgo breakfast and closed my eyes again.
I awoke hours later to bright sunlight. The halls were quiet, as most of the other good Catholic girls of St. Kate’s must have been off to mass and other Sunday doings. I hauled my body, heavy as lead, down the hall toward the showers. But when I saw the second-floor phone booth, I felt a jolt of energy from Dorothy. I hesitated, staring. Do I have to? I asked.
Images of Mary and our house on Lake Street zapped through my mind.
I didn’t want to, but Dorothy was right. I should probably let someone know I was safe.
If you say so.
I pulled the door shut behind me, picked up the receiver, and recited the numbers by heart for the operator.
I was relieved when Mary answered the phone the way Magda insisted. “Hello, Watry residence. Who’s calling, please?”
My mind scrambled for the right thing to say. My tongue froze in my mouth. What must she think of me? Mary saw Magda cast on me first, right?
“Lisbett?” Mary whispered on the other end of the line. Of course she knew it was me, even before I spoke.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked. “Is Harry’s …?” I couldn’t finish.
“It’s not good,” Mary said quietly. “Where are you? Magda’s, well, she’s mad, but it will blow over … It will be better to face her.”
I was scared to ask, but I had to. “What … what happened at Harry’s? Did anybody …?” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Harry’s is gone,” Mary snapped.
“What do you mean?”
Mary didn’t answer, and I began to panic. “Mary! What do you mean?”
“No one died,” Mary said finally. “But just barely. Mr. Raymond is in the hospital.”
The mustachioed face of Harry’s line cook flashed through my mind. “Oh God,” I croaked. What did I do? “Mare, I’ve gotta go,” I said in a rush. “I wanted to tell you I’m safe. Don’t come looking for me. I love you. Be good.”
“Lisbett!” Mary yelled as I hovered the receiver over the hook. I set it down like I was laying it to rest.
I stumbled back down the hall toward my room in a daze. It had been a mistake to call. What if Magda could trace me? What if they came for me? Who am I kidding? Magda probably already knows, I thought.
I can’t go back there.
I needed a plan. I had enough cash for one more week at St. Kate’s, but if I was going to stay in Minneapolis, I’d need to think of something, fast. I let myself lie back on the ugly yellow coverlet and mope for a half hour. I felt very alone and very far from home. My mind wandered back to Magda and Mom and Mary and what they all must be thinking about my out-of-control magic and Harry’s and, God forbid, what the town must be thinking of our family in the wake of it all. Was my family safe? Would our neighbors try to run us out of town after such a dangerous display? But no, surely Magda wouldn’t allow that, I told myself.
I was plagued, too, by the fear that Mary and Mom hadn’t seen Magda cast on me first. Maybe they thought I was the aggressor. I felt a masochistic pull to cast out the ice floe for Mary and see what she really thought. But it would be like looking into the sun. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the empire of secrets that was my family.
I was about to head to the showers when the dinner bell rang. I wanted to ignore it and hide out with my feelings, but my stomach gurgled at the thought of food. I threw on my same dirty jeans and blouse, the only outfit I had packed for Annie’s, and headed downstairs begrudgingly.
The tables were full already with chattering young women in their Sunday clothes. I was hoping to blend in, mind my own business, but it was hard in such close quarters. I took an empty chair at a table already seating five girls, where the same brunette from the previous night watched me with mild curiosity. She elbowed her friend in the high-necked blouse and announced loudly to the table, “All right girls, we have a fresh body. What’s she need to know?”
I felt myself blush as the other girls stopped their conversations and turned to me. So much for going unnoticed. I started to cut my chicken, waiting to be appraised.
A plain-faced blonde on my right leaned over and stage-whispered dramatically for the table’s benefit, “The chicken’s okay, but the Salisbury steak is crap. Make dinner plans for Wednesday nights.”
A big-boned girl across from the blonde shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that bad …”
“The macaroni’s okay,” another girl admitted with a shrug.
“Don’t ever expect to see a vegetable.”
“Check your packed lunch before you walk away at breakfast. Sometimes girls trade or pinch things from the sacks.”
“They pack us lunch?” I asked.
“Every weekday. Brown bag, peanut butter on white bread, apple, chocolate chip cookie,” another girl answered.
“Sister Margaret farts,” the blonde dramatically whispered again, “a lot. Don’t sit next to her.” That was met with a burst of giggles that drew the sharp eyes of the sisters at the front of the room.
I laughed genuinely with them. This isn’t so bad, I thought. As the laughter petered out, I offered, “I’m Elisabeth.”
The brunette gave a little wave across the table. “Bridget,” she said, motioning for the other girls to introduce themselves.
There were three Marys, an Anne, and two Katherines. They came from all over the state, and a few, like the blonde, Diane, were from Illinois or Wisconsin.
Bridget’s eyes wandered over me again as she sipped her coffee. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” I said.
Bridget nodded. “I’m nineteen.”
I tried to not show my surprise. It was hard to believe that this confident woman, who seemed to know things about the world, was barely a year older than me.
“Do you have a job lined up?” Bridget asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
She set her coffee cup down and seemed to consider me again, deciding if she liked me.
I must have passed the test, because she said, “I’m a full-time nanny for a family in Lowry Hill. They asked me to babysit Tuesday, but I have a date with Richie—that’s my boyfriend. I can give them your name if you’re up for it?”
Babysitting sounded like a dream, although I would’ve accepted anything in that moment for the money. “Yes!” I said with a little too much enthusiasm. “I mean, that would be great. Thank you. Really, it’s so nice of you.”
“Good thinking,” Diane said. “I might be able to get you an interview with my department at Dayton’s. I’m in women’s ready-to-wear on the fifth floor.” She frowned at me then. “We’ll need to do something about your clothes, though.”
Bridget laughed at that. “Well, she’s right,” she said with a broad smile, waving a hand in my direction for emphasis. “Or you can always borrow things for now.”
“Thank you,” I said, my eyes welling up with gratitude.
A wave of relief washed over me. These girls didn’t have to be nice to me. They didn’t have to help me. But here they were, welcoming me into their fold. I was grateful. It wasn’t a long-term plan, but it was enough to buy me time to figure out what I was going to do, what I might want to do.
I forced myself to head for the showers first as I contemplated my next move. Standing under a stream of lukewarm water with my heart racing in my chest, I realized it was going to be harder to disown my magical birthright than I had ever imagined. Even though I had tried to disconnect myself from the ice floe and Dorothy was doing her best to shield me, the connection was still there, just beneath the surface, the minute I was careless or emotional enough. It was too easy to reach through and grab it again. I wanted to explore a life for myself that was entirely different from what Magda had wanted for me, but so far, every road had brought me right back into Magda’s orbit.
As my heart rate slowed, my mind wandered back to Nick the bartender, the only bright spot in an exhausting twenty-four hours. The thought of Nick’s hard, lean arms popped into my head, followed by those strong hands pouring a cold draft of Milwaukee’s finest, and after that … those strong hands in my hair, on my body … Anything to make me feel better about Harry’s and Mr. Raymond.
I shook my head to clear the thought. Nick and the bar would have to wait for another day. I needed to save my money. I would need money if I was going to get out of St. Kate’s, away from where Magda already knew I was. I towel-dried my hair and wrestled it into a plain braid as best I could—I wish Mary was here, I thought with a pang to my heart—then knocked on Diane’s door to see about borrowing clothes to look for a job on Monday.