The day had come. The date indicated in the mysterious letter left under Eddie’s porch. He paced the floor in his kitchen, contemplating. He had been thinking hard about what to do over the last couple of days—going back and forth on whether or not to cast the spell.
He wasn’t an overtly religious man, but some lingering guilt made him question casting an unknown ritual left under his porch by his former realtor. That was, if it truly was Frankie who had left the note in the first place.
Eddie wanted to believe that it was Frankie, but why would he choose a former client to leave the message? Sure, they had been friendly, but they hadn’t been friends. And to reveal such a secretive part of his life?
Again, how could Eddie know that it was the truth? Maybe it was a joke. Maybe there were people outside his window right now watching him.
He stepped to the windows and peered around the curtains, but didn’t see anyone. A lone car stopped at the stop sign at the corner, then proceeded on. Otherwise, there was no activity outside.
Eddie looked down at the spell ingredients laid out on the kitchen table. He had read through the instructions a thousand times, so he knew just what to do, but was he really capable of doing this? Witchcraft?
The words of Father Thompson scared him. Witchcraft was only okay in the fictional sense. And maybe that’s what this was. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. He worried that he would mistakenly cross a moral line that he couldn’t return from. After his conversation with Father Thompson, he had read and reread the letter and couldn’t see any mention of worshipping any other deities other than God, but if the power in the spell didn’t come from a deity, then where did it come from?
Eddie cracked his knuckles as he paced the room. He wished there was someone else he could talk to about this. Someone who wouldn’t think he was crazy. For a brief moment, he debated whether he could go to Frankie’s house—maybe see if Frankie was there himself. That would resolve all of this.
But he’d tried that before. Instead, Frankie’s daughter had deflected any questions. He remembered the look on Samantha’s face. Worry. Fear. But also determination. She had put up a wall and was not about to let anyone pass through her barrier. All in the name of concern for her father.
Eddie plopped down in a chair at the end of the table and leaned back. He studied the items again. He wanted to help Frankie. He wanted to help Frankie’s daughters. Reunite a family, even if he never saw their reunion for himself. Eddie knew all too well what it was like to tear apart a family after his own divorce.
What was the worst that would happen if he cast the spell? If he suffered eternal damnation for reuniting a family, then so be it. If it was a joke, then the only person who would see it was himself.
Eddie sucked in a shuddering breath. He had made his decision.