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Chapter 17

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“You know what to do, Gabi,” Eden whispered as she waited on Beverly’s front porch.

“Call the cops or someone who is capable of taking on this insane and probably very powerful woman?”

“Yes, we’ll tell them she put a curse on a plant and it’s terrorizing the neighborhood. Anyway, she’s not a witch. My guess is, unless that little vine can make its way in here, it’s me against her, and I’m stronger than I look.” Eden heard footsteps. “But yes, call for help if I’m in trouble,” she quickly added. Her bravery had already diminished since that burst of anger had propelled her across the street.

Beverly opened the door. Strands of hair had escaped from her braid, and they stuck out in every direction. Her eyes were red-rimmed. As she frowned in the doorway, Eden was half-inclined to believe she might actually be a witch after all.

“I need to talk to you,” Eden said.

Beverly turned around and headed inside, leaving Eden to follow behind her. Beverly didn’t stop until they’d reached the kitchen, where she pulled two mugs out of a cabinet. Eden frowned. She’d never imagined this scenario involving a mug of anything, so she watched, speechless, as Beverly filled the kettle with water.

Beverly leaned against the kitchen counter, her brows raised high. “I know they hate me.”

Eden lowered her eyes. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that this wasn’t a woman she should feel sorry for. This was a cold-blooded, murdering, control freak.

“Someone has to be the bad guy,” Beverly said.

Eden snorted. “Maybe in books. This is a subdivision in Nebraska.”

“This is a very unusual subdivision in Nebraska. Dotty and I brought all of us together because there’s strength in numbers. But if we’re found out, you don’t know what will happen.”

Beverly really believed she was in a fight for survival, and she was passionate enough about it that she might just reveal the truth of what she’d done. Eden had to get her talking. “What exactly happened here?” she asked.

“It was a long time ago,” Beverly said quietly. “Most of us don’t speak a word of the old language. We’ve lost most of their recipes and we can’t remember the words to their songs. Even our mothers only hummed a broken line here or there. Clixie’s probably the only one who could tell you what they were like, since her family has clung a bit to the old culture, but then you can hardly talk to her these days.” Beverly flung her arms wide, gesturing to her kitchen. “We’re modern people, with granite countertops and two or three car garages and, yes, we argue about the length of our grass. But under the surface we are different, like they were different.”

“Clixie told me there was a lot of prejudice against them.”

“Of course. They not only looked and spoke differently, they had abilities other people didn’t. Can you imagine how that scared people? When things got difficult they tried to keep it down to tarot cards and palm reading, that kind of thing. That was how they fed themselves. But even that was too much. My great-grandmother had a brother who was killed defending her against a farmer who blamed her for the death of his sheep. She had foreseen it. Although the truth of the matter was that her inheritance allowed her to see pain and sickness in others. She knew the animal was sick, and no one else could see it. She was just trying to help.”

Eden swallowed. “That’s terrible. But it’s no excuse for what you’ve done.”

Beverly smiled slightly as she took the mugs over to the kettle and poured the tea. “I don’t suppose it is, but order and rules and regulations are the only tools I have.”

“I very much doubt that.”

Beverly took two teabags from a box and dunked them in the mugs. Eden’s eyes narrowed as Beverly handed her the tea. She’d have to be crazy to drink something Beverly made her. Eden set the mug on the counter, swishing the bag around slowly, and trying not to show the fear that was spreading through her like the brownish-green color that seeped into the water.

“I know I can be intimidating. I might look like I have it all together. But I’m not perfect.” Beverly sighed. She sounded tired. “Tell anyone that and I’ll make you disappear.”

Eden’s breath caught. She stepped back.

Beverly laughed. “I’m only joking. Am I really that frightening?”

“It’s just that I’ve heard you threaten people before. It didn’t end well for them.”

Beverly’s eyes widened, and she pulled away from the counter. “You think I—”

The room was eerily quiet as Beverly’s hand shook over her mouth. Calming herbs wafted from the tea mugs, so out of place with the words stewing inside Eden.

“I think you killed Martha when she refused to comply with the CC&R’s,” Eden said, anger boiling through her fear again. “And I think you’re responsible for the attack of Yolanda Biddle, too.” Eden’s muscles tensed as she stared at Beverly. Beverly had the height, but she was all pointed edges. Maybe Eden could take her if it came to it. That is, if there wasn’t any weird magic involved. Eden had learned to believe in things she’d never thought possible in a very short period of time. Who knew what she had yet to learn?

Beverly’s features hardened. “And how would I do that?”

“We all know there’s someone around here who knows how to put a curse on someone. At least there was when my grandmother was young. And then there’s the fact that you were out cutting basil in Martha’s backyard. You went to Hoodoos.”

Beverly’s eyes widened. “Martha was the one who suggested I take the basil. She grew all kinds of things. She’d started getting into natural remedies and even ...” Beverly rolled her eyes, as if it was all too silly. “I guess you’d call them spells and potions. She told me about Hoodoos.”

“So why wait until she was gone? Why did you look like you didn’t want anyone to see you? I saw your face when I confronted you with it, Beverly. I know you’re lying.”

Beverly took in a sharp breath. Her red-rimmed eyes suddenly filled with tears. She dropped her head in her hands and sobbed.

Eden’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know whether to go put her arm around Beverly or back quietly away. Beverly did not seem like the kind of woman that would cry in front of someone—or at all, for that matter. And she’d seemed so shocked at Eden’s accusation. It wasn’t at all what Eden had expected, and she had no idea what to do next.

“Beverly?” Eden crept around the counter, approaching her. She carefully placed a hand on her shaking shoulder.

Beverly straightened, scrubbing her eyes vigorously with the cuffs of her blouse. “It was so ridiculous, but Martha said it might work, and I was so desperate I actually thought I’d try it. Of course I would have been mortified if anyone knew. If you tell a soul—” Beverly put a hand over her mouth.

“Yeah, you might want to ease up on the threats. What did you try, Beverly?”

Beverly bit her lip, as if she were fighting to keep the words in.

“I swear, I won’t tell anyone. Gabi, stop recording.”

Beverly straightened, her eyes narrowing.

Eden threw her hands up in the air, showing Beverly her phone. “I’m sorry. I thought you were a murderer. It’s just you, me, and Gabi, because I can’t really turn her off if she doesn’t want me to.”

Beverly raised her brows, a curious look in her eyes.

“Just tell me what you’ve been hiding. It will feel good to get it out. I promise. You’re not supposed to do everything on your own.”

The words felt hypocritical as they spilled out of Eden’s mouth. All this time she’d been telling herself it was best if she kept to herself. It was best to avoid the messiness of relationships gone wrong. But even as she told herself that, she’d let Jack and Clixie and Yolanda into her life. It was worth the risk. Now she was going to push Beverly to reveal her darkest secret, and it was okay if Beverly hated her for it. Maybe it was a burden to be the keeper of secrets, but it was her inheritance, and she could use it to help people, like her grandmother had done.

Beverly left the kitchen and dropped onto the couch in the adjoining living room, not at all the stiff and controlled woman Eden had watched from afar. Eden sat down next to her, waiting patiently.

“It was supposed to be a—a love potion.” Beverly covered her face with splayed fingers.

Eden couldn’t help jerking back in surprise. “A love potion?”

“Yes. Martha had overheard a conversation between Harrison and me in our backyard. We’d gone outside so the children couldn’t hear us. We were discussing a possible separation. But I couldn’t be that woman. I am not the type that admits failure, as you might have guessed.”

“So it wasn’t about Harrison. It was about failure.”

“It was at first. But then Harrison and I went away to a couple’s retreat in Omaha. We left a couple of hours after that awful scene with Martha.” Beverly looked at Eden, her make-up nearly scrubbed away, her eyes soft and watery. “It turns out, I still love Harrison.”

“Isn’t that good news?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m the woman he married anymore. I’ve always been a little uptight, but now I’m skinny jeans on a sumo wrestler.”

Eden had to hold back a laugh. “What about the love potion?”

Beverly shook her head. “I didn’t even use it. It felt so ridiculous. Anyway, I don’t want to manipulate Harrison into staying with me. He should make that decision on his own.”

Eden nodded. “I guess no matter how you try, you can’t control everything in your life.”

Beverly laughed. “I realized that as soon as I had children.”

“What are you going to do?”

Beverly shrugged. “I don’t know.”