i guess this is going to be a sort of farwell post for this blog. i will not delete it simply because there are fics here that i have removed from ao3 and also because, who knows, i might just be back--i just don't see that happening in the foreseeable future
if anybody would like to have a chat, just dm me and i'll leave my other @ s. it was real fun being on here and i love all the people that i met, even if briefly. thank you all
small updates if anybody is interested before i'm off
came out as a lesbian. surprising literally no one
i'm halfway through my studies !! i'm already looking into stages and eventual jobs for after i've done my thesis (bachelor's. then master's which is a whole other pair of pants)
started studying to get a driver's license (i hate it here)
am seeing with my professor if we can go to greece after the summer i will actually combust
i've stopped writing for a while but recently started again with a long fic that it's genuinely for my benefit only. i also started thinking about original works again
still have no reason nor solution for my hip pain, which officially means i have chronic pain, but i do have a few visits to set up and see what's going on. not looking forward to that but oh well
i've been to marches !!
i've made more friends at uni. and by that i mean queer first-years have found me and i've adopted them
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The Hadid sisters have to jump over hoops while speaking up about genocide, losing job opportunities and getting doxxed and harrased daily, and you have noah schnapp over here being absolutely vile with stickers saying, "zionism is sexy." Get fucked my dude
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Abstract:Ā Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Words: 12.6k
Content: original female character (helena goode); alternative universe, magic, death, ghosts, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of an abusive relationship, mildly suggestive language, inspo both from the movie and the book
A/N: it's still halloween, right? i'm sorry for the late late posting but, alas, shit happens. i hope you all enjoy this nevertheless <3
reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too
also on AO3 Ā - masterlist
He will hear my call a mile away. He will whistle my favorite song. He can ride a pony backwards. He can flip pancakes in the air. He'll be marvellously kind. And his favorite shape will be a star. And heāll have eyes like chocolate, worthy of honesty.
Helena Goode often thought about the petals blowing in the air after her Amas Veritas, her true love. Years had gone by since thenāsheād been just a kid, wishing on her true love, her perfect love. Thinking it could not existāfor how could it, when all those women came crying in her auntsā kitchen in the middle of the night? Sheād wished for what she thought could never come to her.
And then there had been Frankieāher love, definitely not perfect, but good, so good. And gone, gone forever, because she had loved him so much. Or so she had thoughtāmaybe that hadnāt been real, maybe there was no such thing as real love, contrary to what her sister said. After all her aunts had played a part in her marriage, and for so long after Frankieās death sheād tried to believe none of it had been real, so that it would hurt less. So that she would not die of a broken heart.
But, in spite of everything, in spite of her bitterness, in spite of her pain, in spite of the loss, she knew some things had been real. Like the coffee he made her in the morning before leaving for work, like the dinners she fixed before he came back, like the colour they picked to paint the walls of their house; like all the times sheād listened for his whistling as he came back from work; like his kisses, and like their two beautiful daughters; like the laughter during the day and the nights spent awake; like the normal life theyād began living, and the shop theyād dreamed of opening together that now belonged to her only.
Like the State Investigator who stood in front of her at the front door, asking after her sisterās boyfriend. A boyfriend she knew to be dead and buried right there in the backyard. Fuck, she kept thinking, looking at the man in front of herāhis eyebrows arched, lips parted under a neatly trimmed moustache, eyes dark as chocolate, andā
āIām sorry?ā she asked, clearing her throat. Dry throat. Sweaty palms. Tongue-tied.
āIs your sister home?ā She knew heād asked that already, and he was being mighty patient about it. āIād like to speak with her, maāam,ā and then, because she had not moved an inch, ānothing to worry about, really. Just routine questions.ā
āSure,ā again Helena cleared her throat, and willed her legs to move. She stepped back, opening the door fully so that she could let him through. āCome on in, Iāll go get her.ā
Fuck, fuck, fuck, over and over as the man nodded and stepped in, walking past her into the entranceāhe smelled of coffee and tobacco, of the desert he came from. Helena closed the door and wiped her hands down the front of her shirt, which she suddenly realised belonged to one of her daughters, with rhinestones adorning the front. Fuck.
āKitchen is just on your left, Iāll be right back.ā
Phoebe Goode was trying her best. Each night she dreamed about Jamesāhis eyes, old and clear, staring at herāand each morning she tried to stop carrying him with her, to forget he ever existed, even though she could still see him on her face, in the bruises around her eye, in the split lip on the point of healingāthanks to her sister salve, the one that smelled of roses. She was trying her best, ignoring the awful fact she felt him still, knowing that the deepest relationship with a man of her whole life was with a dead man.
So she wore blue for protection, and had asked Emma, her niece, to lock her cigarettes away, and tried to sit in silence to meditate and push him away, out of her mind, out of her life for good. She was even back at the house, where sheād sworn she would never go back, because it was safer, because of her sister.
Her sister, running up the stairs, out of breath, in a shirt that did not belong to her and a skirt that mustāve been older than her, so dishevelled-looking Phoebe felt her heart drop for a moment, figured the next words out of her mouth would be James, and honestly anything after that could be awful, because he was. Had been.
āThereās a cop. Agent. Someone,ā Helena was gasping, her voice an alarmed whisper. āHeās looking for you. And Jamesābut he asked for you.ā
āThatās fine, we can manage,ā perhaps the meditation was working, because even after hearing his name she could still think without panic closing her throat. āIāll tell him I havenāt seen him in days, and I came here because weāre done. And if he asks, youāll just sayāā she stopped, frowning at her sister as she shook her head. āWhat? Youāll just say youāve never seen him.ā
āHereās the thing,ā Helena reached for her chest, still shaking her head, still out of breath. Her head was spinning, and her heartāGod, her heartāfelt like it was about to explode. āI donāt think I can lie to him.ā
āOf course you can,ā Phoebe scoffedābut her sister was still having a hard time breathing, her eyes so wide she looked like a deer spooked half to death. āGet over yourself, Lena. Itās fine. Youāre just having a panic attack.ā
āI donāt think itās that. I justāthe way he looks at you,ā she inhaled sharply, a strangled noise scratching her throat and making her sound like a wounded animal, then exhaled, breath stuttering. āI canāt sit there and just lie to him. I know I canāt.ā
āYou have to, Lena,ā but her sisterās eyes darted around the attic, where Phoebe was staying in. She snapped her fingers in front of her face, making her recoil. āListen to me, you have to. We know nothing, nothing happened.ā
Helena and Phoebe had grown up knowing that something was real because they believed in it. That was what gave things powerāmagic, words, talismans. But what happened when two people believed two different things? How did the universe cope with that? Was James dead and buried in their backyard, under lilacs that were growing wildly out of season (girls in the neighbourhood had begun to whisper that if you kissed the boy you loved beneath the Goodeās lilacs heād be yours forever, whether he wanted to be or not), or was he back in Laredo, or off somewhere else, left behind by his girlfriend?
Javier PeƱa was wondering the same as he stood in the odd kitchen of an odd house, there on Magnolia Street.
There were no clocks and no mirrors, in that house, and the floors creaked anywhere but where he stepped; light came pouring in from big, wide windows, showing an even bigger garden with lilacs out of season and more flowers and plants that he could recognise or countārosemary and lavender, roses and daisies, carrots and an apple tree that reminded him strangely of home, but all seemed like a dream through the thick glass. Each piece of furniture inside seemed dusty, but when he ran his fingertip across the dark wooden surface of this table or that cabinet, no dust came awayāno need for polishing anything in there. It smelled of cherrywood. It smelled familiar.
It was a familiarity Javier had not been ready to faceāhe touched the pocket of his jacket, felt the paper tucked in there crinkle at the touch, and a moment later, as if summoned by thought alone, Helena Goode came back down the stairs, slightly more dishevelled looking than before.
Helena had clearly been in the kitchen when he first knocked. He knew because he could almost see it, like a ghost moving around the stove, stirring a pot that had since been turned off, its content left forgotten on the back burden. He knew because sheād called Hold on at the third rattle of his knuckles across the door, matter-of-factly, as if sheād been expecting him. The mere sound of her voice had thrown him for a loop, the patio under his feet shifting unsteadily, and he couldāve followed the sound there with his eyes closed.
He thought then he could be in troubleāand when sheād opened the door, heād known he would. Because heād looked into crystal clear pools of grey and begun drowning, down and down without anything he could do about it. His father had once told him that witches caught you like that: with a look. If you ever meet a woman like that, you run the other way, no matter what, for your own good. Thereās no cowardice in safety. But Javier had no intention of runningāheād rather drown, over and over, if it meant she looked at him like that a little longer.
She stood at the end of the stairs, perfectly still, with that ridiculous shirt with rhinestones across her chest and her dark hair down past her shoulder, brushing the sliver of uncovered skin at her waist. She was beautiful, Javier thought, so ridiculously beautiful he got a lump in his throat just looking at her. For a moment, before her Can I help you? at the door, heād almost forgotten the reason he was there. He almost forgot it again when he saw her shake her head at the end of the stairs, and had to touch the letter tucked next to his heart again.
āCan I get you anything?ā her voice sounded different as she strode into the kitchen. āMy sister will be right down. Coffee?ā she wasnāt looking at him, and Javier wished sheād just stop and turn to face him, if only to forget himself again in her eyes.
But Helena wouldnāt turn. She wouldnāt look at him. She woldnāt look at his face, and his neatly trimmed moustache, and his lovely dark eyes. She wouldnāt look at the lines on his face he was way too young to have, and the loneliness embedded in each of them she knew could be found in the silver strands of her hair, too. Helena figured he was not a man who hid things, just like he was not hiding the fact he was looking at herāshe could feel his eyes burning on the back of her head, and she couldnāt believe the way he was staring at her. Looking at her like that.
It was how dark his eyes were, the problem. The way he could make someoneāherāfeel seen from the inside out.
āCoffeeās fine,ā he said, forcing his gaze away. He looked outside, where in the distance, still filtered like a dream, he could see clouds gathering, a distant storm that seemed to have followed him there. Javierās father had taught him to predict exactly when a storm would hit just by the location of lightning, so that he could prepare the ranch in time to brace for it.
Heād never been very good at it. He thought that lightning, like love, was never ruled by logic. Accidents happened, and they always would.
He looked at Helena again, her back still to himāshe was watching the coffee brew, her arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously against her elbow. Javier looked at her and thought she was familiar to himāheād thought that ever since getting her letter, the one tucked next to his heart, but to see her there in front of him, flesh and bones and long hair and clear eyes, really settled it for him.
Heād heard about it happening to other menāhis friend Steve being one of them. Going about their business one minute and suddenly they found themselves without hope. They fell in love so hard they never got up off their knees again.
Heād never thought it would happen to him. Javier was all businessāhe always had been. It was his need to figure out the why of things, of people. Money, love, furyāthose were the motivations he found usually, in his line of work. James Hawkins fell in the money category, of that he was sure, with perhaps a sprinkle of fury in the shape of his ring marked on the bodies.
Javier had been looking for that ring at Hawkinsā placeāheād seen it in pictures, read it in descriptions, remembered it from the few times his path had trailed along Hawkinsā, because Laredo wasnāt that big of a place, and faces grew familiar over timeāwhen the letter had arrived.
Crumpled and torn in one corner, the flap already opened, Javier had looked at it and thought he shouldāve taken it directly to the office. But an open letter was hard to resist, even for someone like Javier, who had resisted a whole lot in his life. But that letter was something else, something tempting, and he gave into it.
He never regretted it.
He had just sat there, on the patio of the house of the man he was looking for, and read the letter Helena Goode had written to her sister. When he was done, heād read it again. And again. And twice more midair, and then while he had his lunch, and once more when heād settled in his hotel room. Even when the letter was folded back into its envelope and stored in the pocket of his jacket, the words came back to haunt himāwhole sentences written by Helena forming in his mind.
Javier had been close to people, and while he didnāt have that many friends he was contentāheād even almost gotten married after high school, although thatās a topic no one ever brought up, not even himself. But heād never once felt like heād known anyone the way he felt he knew the woman who had written that letter. It felt like someone had ripped a piece of his soul out of him and formed into words. Words he was so taken by he wouldnāt have heard, seen, or felt a thing as long as he was reading them.
I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm, or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen.
Javier wanted to tell her that he saw her. Right there in front of him, and even when she was not there, when he had not the faintest clue what she looked like, he saw her. He saw her standing, moving the coffee pot from the fire. He saw her pouring the coffee in three mismatched cups. He saw her hands shaking as she did so.
āAre you okay?ā he asked, and she recoiled as if startled by his voice.
āI think Iām going to sit down,ā Helena said, casually, as if she didnāt seem about to collapse.
Still she brought two of the cups over, almost spilling the contents of one, and collapsed onto the chair opposite Javi with a shuddering sigh, her cheeks flushed, her chest fluttering. She wondered if drinking coffee would be a good idea at that moment, still feeling as if her heart might explode, but needed something to keep herself busy, so she brought the cup to her mouth and gulped down the scalding drink, burning the roof of her mouth and her lips.
āWhy are you here?ā she asked then, bitterness coating her tongue. She was used to sugar in her coffee, most times a dash of milk. āI mean, I understood what you told meāabout Phoebeās boyfriendābut why here?ā
She saw the man hesitateāhe did not strike her as someone who hesitated in anything, but he was pondering her words and how to best respond to her, his lips shifting to draw in a breath, and then exhale. He reached for his jacketāhe still hadnāt taken that off, and with the movement it hugged his shoulders tight, seams pulling uncomfortablyāand, from one of the inner pockets, took a piece of paper that he handed to her.
āI mailed that to my sister ages ago,ā Helena recognised it immediatelyāthat letter she was so grateful had never reached Phoebe, but also wished it had a little earlier, so she wouldnāt be in that mess. Thereās a halo around the moon tonight. I think trouble is coming. I wish youād get out of there. Come back home. Alone. āYou opened it,ā she added then, a little baffled.
He hadnāt just opened it. Heād read it. The paper consumed from being folded over and over again, each line marked deeper where it bent, words slightly smudged as if someone had run their fingers over each and every of it.
āIt was opened already,ā he retorted, justifying. āIt must have gotten lost at the post office.ā
āBut you read it,ā the cup was burning her palm, the letter her other hand, her face was burning too under his gaze.
āMaybe a thousand times,ā Javier admitted, his voice dropping.
āIt was a very personal letter,ā she whispered too, feeling the tightness inside her throat and belly and chest grow, and grow, and grow until it was choking her. That had to be what a heart attack felt like. Perhaps she was about to end up on the floor unconscious.
āI know,ā the man said, and at last she looked at him.
He saw her but, Javier knew, she saw him too. She couldāve seen how Javier wasnāt sure how far heād go to cover for someoneāheād never been in that position before, and he despised the way it felt. But he was there, sitting in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, a total stranger on a humid day, wondering if he was going to look the other way because of her. She could see all thatāor at least, she hoped.
And then Phoebe came down. Noisy steps down the stairs, announcing her presence to the entire worldāshe always had that about her, always managed to bring the attention to her, with her lovely strawberry-blonde hair and her long lashes and full lips. Even with the bruises, even with the wounds, even with her fear embedded so deeply into her skin it was painful, Phoebe was beautiful.
Still, Javier focused on Helena, and it wasnāt until her sister stood at her side that he caught a glimpse of her. Night and day, thatās what the aunts called them. He didnāt know, but he wouldāve agreedāso starkly different, yet seemingly in tune with each other.
āAs Iāve said your sister, I wonāt take up much of your time,ā Javier cleared his throat, offered his hand to Phoebe as he stood. He missed the feeling of his letter against his body, but Helena was clutching it tight, pressing it against her stomach. āItās just a couple of questions, routine checks.ā
āOf courseāagent, is it?ā Phoebeās voice was soft where Helenaās was strong. She took up space just by standing, her arms folded in front of her as she held the third cup that had been on the counter.
āYes, maāamāAgent PeƱa.ā Only then did she take his hand, a delicate shake before turning his palm up towards her face, peering down with an interested hum.
āYouāve come a long way just for a couple of routine questions, Agent PeƱa.ā Her thumb ran along one of the lines on his palm, tracing it with a feather-like touch. Her brows knitted for a moment, confusion locking on her features (eyes darting towards her sister) before she shook herself. āI see here itāll be worth the trip,ā she mused, tapping his palm.
āRight.ā Again he cleared his throat, and pulled his hand back. āWhen was the last time you saw James Hawkins?ā
āAh, a man of action,ā Phoebe scoffed lightly, then shrugged. āCouple of weeks, just before I came here. It just wasnāt working anymore.ā
āIs he responsible for that?ā he asked, gesturing towards her face, the bruises.
āAs Iāve said, it wasnāt working anymore,ā she tipped her chin up, leaned with her hip against Helenaās chair. āI have no idea where he might be. If a man hits me, he only does it once,ā Helenaās breath hitched, her grip on both the cup and letter tightening.
āWhat about the car? The one with the Texas plateāitās registered in his name,ā Javier thought he might as well reveal all his cards from the beginning. Neither sister was stupid, but still Phoebe was lyingāhe knew she was. He had seen that look before, countless times: people who are guilty of something think they can hide it by not looking at you. Or looking at you too much.
Helena wasnāt looking at him anymoreāagain. Phoebe was staring him down. But Helena wasnāt looking at him, because she knew, she was certain, that could not lie to the man. She feared her eyes would betray her too, like her heart was doing, like she imagined her words would if she were to say anything more.
āI took it when I ran,ā Phoebe said, sighing. āAnd I know thatās wrong, so you may take it right awayāI just needed a way out. That was the fastest.ā
She was good, Javier managed to think in that haze-like feeling heād found himself in since heād walked into the house. Since heād seen Helena. Her eyes.
āAnd you have not heard from him since?ā Phoebe shook her head, sipping on her coffee and grimacingātoo bitter, too strong. But it helped keep her mind away from the times she had heard from Jamesāin her dreams, nightmares, really; or when she was distracted, and his voice crept into her head; or when she looked in the mirror and his reflection stared back.
āI have not,ā she smacked her lips, the taste of the coffee lingering on the tip of her tongue.
āAlright, well,ā Javier picked his cup and drank most of the coffee that remainedāhe liked it that way, black and strong, it reminded him of his fatherāthen went to the sink to rinse the cup. Helena watched him while his back was turned, and almost smiled at the way he let the water slosh from side to side enough to get any residue off before settling it upside down. āIf anything comes to mind, Iāll be around a couple of days longerāIām staying at the Hide-A-Way Motel.ā
āReally?ā was the first thing Helena said in what felt like ages. Javier turned aroundāhe was just stalling then. He wanted to remain there, with her. He wanted to keep on looking into Helenaās eyes and drown, drown, drown for days. He saw nothing else but her eyes.
āLady at the car rental desk suggested itāit isnāt half bad,ā he shrugged, and smoothed his jacket down. He felt the absence of the letter when he ran his hand across his chest, and the paper did not crinkle under his touch. Helena curled her fingers around her words. āNice area.ā
āIt is,ā she should knowāher shop was one street away from the motel. Sheād picked the area with Frankie because of how nice it was, close enough to the park it gave the impression of being around nature, but not so far from town that nobody would walk by the shop.
Phoebe watched the agent and her sister look at each other and frownedāfor a moment, what sheād seen on PeƱaās palm flashed before her eyes again. A new beginning, a line cut through by something, someone he could not escape. It had been written on his skin since the beginning. Some fates were just guaranteed.
āIf I happen to remember anything else, Iāll come around,ā Phoebe said, cutting through the crackle of energy that passed from one to the other. It was as if sheād woken them up from a dream, a dream made of only looks and silence. āYou can have the car taken away.ā
āGreat,ā he cleared his throat, and forced himself to back away. He knew that if he lingered any longer, heād never want to leave. It was hard enough already. āThanks.ā
Helena felt like she was losing her mind.
The night before, a ring had appeared around the moon. A halo around the moon was always a sign of disruptionābut it was a double ring, all tangled up, anything could happen. Helena didnāt like the thought, and she hadnāt been able to sleep all night.
The sparrow that used to fly each midsummerās eve into the house on Magnolia Street had come back, out of season, round and round the dining roomāher daughters had counted each circle: three. Three meant trouble, it always had. Sheād chased it out with her sister, both of them on edge.
And it rained. All night and through the morning, one of her daughters standing by the window looking at the lilacs being hit by drop after drop, tapping her fingers nervously. Emma was looking at the man in their backyard, who stared back at them like from a vision, a nightmare rather than a dream. She was hoping he would go away, but the bad weather did not bother himāhe seemed to relish in the black skies and the wild wind, and the rain passed through him. Emma thoughtāshe knewāit was his fault that things were going amiss in the house, even though she didnāt know the extent of it: pipes rusting and the tile floor of the basement turning to dust, nothing in the refrigerator would stay fresh.
Both sets of sisters fought, loud and mean and just like he wanted them to. Emma wouldāve liked them all to stop. Helena thought of chopping the lilacs all night long, but had to go to work.
And then there was Javier. Agent PeƱa, who walked around town and talked to everyone and was always there when she turned around from the counter. Javier, with a cigarette hanging from his lips at every street corner. Always there, always there, always there.
āFuck!ā Helena exclaimed, when the jar she was trying to place on the shelf fell and shattered on the ground, shards of glass flying around her ankles and the contentsācurled dried leavesāspilling across the clean floor. āGod, give me a break.ā
āAre you okay, Lena?ā a voice called from the other side of the shop. Helena didnāt have many friendsāit came with the Goode name, being shunned away. But Crystal was one of the few who did not shy away, besides being a good employee. āLet me help you.ā
āItās alright, I just havenāt been sleeping well,ā she went to gather the glass and leaves, both crunching as she moved the broom across them. āBut could you put the kettle on? Maybe some tea will do me good,ā even though she craved coffee desperately.
Sheād craved coffee ever since sheād met with the agent. Black and bitter. She could smell it in the air around her, no matter which room she walked in, or which streetāalong with tobacco and more. Sheād never smoked a cigarette in her life but now felt her fingers itch as if reaching for one.
Crystal obliged without questionāsheād learned early on that many things around Helena Goode just did not make sense, and there was no point in prying. It had been that way since they were children. Her mother liked the Goode aunts, said that it was not their fault for more than two hundred years their family had been blamed for everything that went wrong in town.
Some people are just different. Most people are just stupid to be afraid of it.
She remembered their classmates being terrified of the day a bunch of cats followed Helena to schoolāwitchery, they called it. A witch and her familiars. Nasty, nasty creatures, the whole lot of them. But Crystal remembered Helena being kind and poised, she remembered her balanced lunches, and the way she always looked out for her sister. She still did. Why people would think Helena and Phoebe had any evil in them escaped her.
Goode women ignored convention; they were headstrong and willful, and meant to be that way.
āThank you, Crystal,ā Helena said from the kitchenette, throwing away the spoiled merchandise..
āAre you sure you wouldnāt rather go home? I can look after the shop,ā but even as she asked, Helena was shaking her head, lips trembling with her deep inhale. āLena, did something happen?ā
āItās notāā a bell. The shopās bell. Helena looked up from her mug, the smell of lavender easing her headache a little, and then turned. āIāll get it.ā
He was everywhere, always there, always there, in her shop, too. Helena stood frozen next to the counter and looked at the agent who was looking aroundāa feeble attempt at not immediately turning towards her, not falling into her eyes right away.
āYes?ā she managed to ask, her throat dry once again. Just by his mere presence.
āIām afraid I forgot to bring enough toothpaste,ā Javier lied. Heād thrown an almost full tube in the bin just that morningāstill wasnāt sure why. Maybe because so many people had told him about Helenaās shop, just around the corner. How the woman was the way she was, but her products were amazing.
āYou couldāve gone to the market,ā she said, but placed her mug down and moved to the shelf anyway. Once she wasnāt looking at him, she managed to exhale again, but still his eyes burned on the back of her head, and she suddenly felt conscious of the fact she probably had forgotten to brush her hair in the morning.
āYes,ā he retorted, and didnāt add anything else. He knew he couldāve, but he didnāt want to. And he couldāve told her it was because so many people had recommended her stuff, or because the shop was closer to his motel. But he didnāt.
āAny allergies?ā she asked, moving the stool closer to the shelf.
āNo, maāam.ā She paused, one foot up the step as she bit her tongueājust a moment, then she climbed and grabbed a jar, the label scribbled so hurriedly it was unreadable, the dark paste inside a stark contrast with the white paper.
āCharcoalāwhitens the teeth,ā she moved back down, the counter between them as she handed the product to himāher eyes flickered towards the cigarette that heād tucked over his ear, shaking her head lightly. āNasty habit,ā she muttered, lowering her gaze.
āIām aware,ā Javier chuckledāas he took the jar, he grazed her fingers. Helena pulled back as if sheād been burned, fingertips curling into her palm and pressing harshly. āDoes this stuff actually work?ā he cleared his throat, turning it in his palm to glance at the label again.
He knew her handwriting. He could read it like the back of his hand. I have this dream of being whole.
āIt does,ā Crystal called as she walked in from the kitchenette, and Helena leaned over the counter and reached for her mugāanything to keep her hands busy. āSee for yourself. On the house.ā
āHe canāt accept it on the house, Crystal,ā she said, moving back. āThereās an investigation ongoingāisnāt that right?ā it looked as if she might turn to him while she addressed him, but didnāt. Again.
āThatās right,ā Javier cleared his throat, shuffling a little. He was so close to the counter he could feel the edge of it dig into his stomach, and forced himself to look at the other woman. āBut are you giving me your word? That it works.ā
He was a charmer. Helena knew alreadyāCrystal was just finding out. She wanted to ask what investigation Helena was talking about, what was happening at the house on Magnolia Street that she desperately did not want to go back, and what was happening with the agent so desperately trying to meet her eyes.
āCross my heart,ā she said instead, because she knew this would be another inexplicable moment. Sheād made her peace with it. āSwear to God, this woman is a magician. Let me ring you up.ā
Helena hid her face with the mug, the dwindling steam turning her cheeks a soft shade of red. At the same time, Javier scoffed lightly.
āRight,ā he muttered, reaching for his wallet. āHeard that one before. Thanks.ā
It took a moment for Helena to register his wordsāshe was trying so hard to not hear him, to not focus on him, that she didnāt understand what he was saying until he was out of the door, an echo of the bell ringing in her mind.
āWait, what?ā she placed the mug down, looking up at his back behind the glass. āHold on.ā
She shouldnāt have gone after him. She shouldāve known better. Helena spent her whole life being vigilant, she spent her whole life relying on logic and common sense, sheād taken care of everything from the moment her parents had died, and then again when Frankie had diedāshe thought about everything.
She had to, because otherwise how would her kids have made it to fourteen and fifteen?
She had to, because if she stopped thinking about everything, what exactly was she left with? Her thoughts and worries are the only reason she continued to exist, of that she was certain.
Never look back, never change direction, thatās what she had to tell herself. Donāt think about being alone in the dark, or storms or lightning and thunder, or the true love you wonāt ever have. Life, she knew, was brushing her teeth and making breakfast for her kids and not letting her mind wander.
But that was a lieāfrom the beginning Helena had been lying to herself, telling herself she could handle anything: her parents dying, her sister relying on her, her auntsā reputation, Frankie, Frankieās death, the spell, the year where everything went grey, her children, and now this. Sheād grown tiredāshe didnāt want to lie anymore. One more lie and sheād be lost. One more lie and sheād never find her way back through the woods.
And itās all because of him.
āWhat did you mean?ā she stopped abruptly when he did, taking a step back when he turned to look at her. She tugged her cardigan close, the wind whipping the ends around along with her hair, and tipped her chin up with her arms crossed, finally, finally looking back at him. āHeard that one before?ā she echoed. āIs that why you were at my shop?ā
āNo,ā he shook his head. āItās because I needed toothpaste, and Iām just around the corner,ā she scoffed lightly, shuffling her feet. āBut actually, yes, I heard a bunch of stuff that doesnāt make sense at all, so Iād like to understand.ā
āWhy?ā
āBecause itās my job,ā he retorted. āBecause, seriously, I have heard it all. A family of witches, a curse, your own husbandāā
āDonāt,ā she snapped, and for a moment Javier recoiled, saw the truth in the words of all the people who had warned him off Helena Goode. With her hair dancing in the wind, and her cheeks still red, and her eyes oh-so-clear, like a storm incoming, he understood. āDo not bring Frankie into this.ā
āHard not to, when itās everything this town talks about,ā he took a step forward, her whole body seizing up. āDo you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? People tell me youāre here cooking up placenta bars, that youāre into devil worship.ā
āYou think I donāt know that?ā her voice was lower, and pulled him closer. āAll my life, this townāI know what they say about me, I know what everybody thinks.ā She wanted to move awayāshe wanted to lean in. She remained still. āAll my life I wanted nothing more than to be seen as normal, but thatās just not the way it is. I donāt have a ranch house or a white picket fence, I donāt have a husband thatās alive anymore, I donāt haveāā she cut herself off, unsure as to why she was so ready to pour her heart out to a stranger in the middle of the street. āI donāt see how thatās my fault.ā
āI never said it was,ā Javier spoke softly, a gentleness that felt foreign on his tongue but rolled off easily when he looked at her.
āThen why are you here?ā her chin was still up, but she was looking down at her nose, careful to avoid his gazeāit made him believe that she, too, felt that tug in the pit of her stomach. She was just better at controlling it.
Your letter, he almost said. You.
āJames Hawkins,ā he replied instead. āA guy like that doesnāt simply vanish.ā
āAnd would that be such a big loss?ā she scoffed, tightening her arms around herself. āA guy like thatāwouldnāt it be so much better if he did just vanish?ā
āMaybe,ā he shrugged, and felt his hands move before he could control himself. āBut I made a vow, and I have a jobāā his fingertips grazed her arm, and at that she pulled back.
āAs do I,ā one hand moved to the point heād brushed, holding the spot as if it hurt, tight against her chest. āSo unless you have something you want to ask me, Agent PeƱa, Iād rather get back to it.ā
āAre you or your sister hiding James Hawkins?ā
āHeās not here, no.ā
āDid you or your sister kill James Hawkins?ā he asked, and her eyebrows arched.
āOh, yeah. Couple of times,ā Javier sighed, and forced himself back, his hand now itching for his cigarette. āIs that all?ā he put it between his lips, ignoring the frown forming on her brow.
āYeah, sure,ā he didnāt light it up just yet, but reached for the lighter neverthelessāhe missed the letter in his pocket whenever he touched it. āBye, Helena.ā
He watched her go back inside the shop with her shoulders pulled back tight, steps unsteady, and only when the door was closed, the echo of the bell ringing in his ears, did he light up the cigarette.
She watched him go away from inside the shop, with his steps matching the thundering of her heart.
āWhat is wrong with you?ā Phoebe watched her sister kneel on the ground, pruning shears in hand and purple flowers all around her, on her. āWhat are you doing?ā
āIām tired of seeing these every time I look out of the window,ā her breath was shortāthe flowers seemed endless, she cut and cut and cut and still they were there. āAnd the smellāI hate it. I canāt do it anymore.ā
āLenaāLena! Itās just flowers!ā although Phoebe knew it was not entirely true. Mostly, she ignored the lilacs, and everything that was underneath it. Especially what was underneath it. āStop it, before you hurt yourself.ā
āOh, now youāre thinking about that?ā Helena dropped the shears and stood, the soil on her jeans already a stain she wouldnāt manage to remove. āNow that thereās a cop after us? Now you think I might hurt myself?ā
āSo what? We stick to our story. No body, no crime,ā she gestured towards the lilacs. āThere is not a single reason why he should think weāve done something, unless you give him one.ā
āBut we did, Phoebe. You understand that, donāt you?ā she hissed, walking up to her sister. āWe fucked up, and somehow Iām still the one whoās cleaning up your messes,ā Phoebeās eyes widened, mouth set in a thin line. āIām sick of this.ā
āI never asked you to, I neverāā
āEnough lies, Pheebs. Arenāt you tired?ā Helena smelled like the lilacs, and her headache was back, stronger and stronger as the storm approached from the horizon. āI know I am. Iām so tired of lying.ā
āWhat are you talking about?ā Phoebe had lowered her voice, and was looking at her sister as if she could not recognise her. āLenaāyou canāt do that,ā even as she said it, Helena walked past her, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans. āYou canāt go to him,ā she said, following her. āWeāll both be sitting in jail if you do. What about the girls? Why are you even thinking about it now?ā
Helena wasnāt sure why. She knew sheād woken up smelling cigarettes and coffee again, and the lilacs, and the nightmare still clinging to her eyelids, making her feel unrested as she had for the past days. Weeks. She wasnāt sure anymore. All she knew is that her throat hurt from all the lies sheād told Javier, and she wanted to come clean, to tell allāshe wanted someone to listen to what she had to say and really hear her, the way no one ever had before. So sheād gone to work, and back home to cut the flowers, and as sundown approached she would go out for Javier.
āDonāt tell me about the girls now, when I spent half my life thinking only about them,ā she said loudly, marching in and out of room after room of the house, grabbing things she wasnāt even sure she needed. āAnd you? You only ever thought about yourself. You left me here. You lived your life. And you dragged me back in just to save your ass.ā
āOh, thatās it, isnāt it?ā Phoebe screamed too, from the middle of the house, following the noises of her sister as she stomped around. āI lived my life and you hate me for it!ā
āI donāt hate you, Phoebe.ā
āNo, no, sureāyouāre unbelievable. You spent all your life trying to be normal and fit in, but you never will! You know weāre different, and so are your girls,ā Helena stopped abruptly to look at her.
āThatās twice nowāyou leave them out of this,ā she said with a scowl so similar to that of their motherās, if only either of them could remember her.
āAll my life Iāve wished I had half your talentāyouāre wasting yourself, Lena,ā Phoebe cried, and for a moment she sounded just like the little girl who had just gotten to the auntsā house. āAnd now youāwhat? Youāre gonna turn yourself in? Or get down on your knees and beg for mercy?ā
āIf Iāll have to, yes,ā Helena said without a second thought, fixing her sister with a look. āIām done.ā
They both measured themselves harshly, always had, as if they had never been anything but those two plain little girls, waiting at the airport for someone to claim them.
If you go against what you believe in, youāre nothing. That was another thing his father liked to sayāand Javier knew he was right. So he was going to stick to his plan: fly back home and give up the case to the poor bastard who was supposed to get it from the beginning, had it not been for the letter. He was going to go back to work as usual, forget about the whole ordeal, forget about grey eyes and dark hair and his own heart.
Heart, heart, heart beating to the sound of the knocking on his door, that for a moment heād thought to be rain pattering on the ground and the roof, such the strength of the storm was. But he heard it, and when he opened the door, Helena was there, shivering and looking up at him.
āYou want a confession?ā
In his line of work, Javier had been trained to notice things, but he couldnāt quite believe what he was seeing. Part of the reason was that heād been imagining Helena everywhere he went. So maybe it was just an illusion, a desire of his heart turned into a vision.
āWhat?ā he stepped aside and, water falling from her hair, Helena walked in, trailing mud behind.
āYou want a confession, donāt you? Itās why youāre still here,ā she was shaking, arms crossed over her chest with wet clothes clinging to her. āWe killed James. Technically, I killed James. I used belladonna.ā
āI know,ā Helena frowned, moved the hair out of her face with trembling hands.
āYou know?ā she sniffled, part from the cold part from the smell attacking her nostrilsācoffee and tobacco and, surprisingly, food.
āI found some in the carāsaw the same thing in your shop and had it analyzed,ā he closed the door, careful to not turn the lock, leaving her a way out as he moved back towards the kitchenette. āHis ring was in there, too. There was blood on it. Have you had any dinner?ā
āIāwhat is this, some sort of joke?ā she asked, slightly out of breath, and stepped in his direction. Javier scoffed, his back to her as he shook his head a little.
āFar from it,ā he muttered, turning the stove off. Still, he didnāt move to look at herāif he did, he wouldnāt be able to say what he had to. He could feel her shiver, just a few steps from him, and it took everything in him to not reach over and grab her and hold her close. āBut I have no idea what to do from here. I canāt say that Iām sorry Hawkins is gone, and I canātāā
āJavierāā he exhaledāit was the first time she said his name, and he gripped the counter with both hands as he closed his eyes. Through the rain, and the soil, and the smoke in his room, he could smell lilacs and that same scent that had clung to the letter, which had bled onto his fingers each time he reread it.
āI was gonna turn over the case,ā she held her breath at his wordsāhe heard the light hiccup as her lips sealed, and slowly turned, though his gaze remained lowered. āI canāt say Iām impartial anymoreāI can pretend, but Iām not. I no longer can tell whatās right and whatās wrong and youāyou came here, and what did you think would happen?ā
āI donāt know,ā her voice was small, and Javier knew she was looking at himāthe roles had switched, he could feel her gaze burning across his skin. āThatās the thing, I donāt know. Iām tiredāof lying, of hiding, of those fucking flowers,ā she sniffled, and from the corner of his eyes he could see her rubbing her arms. āThe thing is, Iām pretty sure itās because of you, and I canāt stand itābecause I know Iāll get hurt, and my sister will get hurt, and my children, too.ā
āThen why,ā his voice had dropped slightly, and he took one more step forward, looking up at lastāthey were standing so close now, heat radiating off of him and clinging to her chilling bones, āare you here, Helena?ā
āI donāt know,ā she whispered, her hands seeking him before she could even realise. āMaybe this,ā her letter was almost destroyed, wet and crumpled as she held it between them.
Fear or lonelinessāshe wasnāt sure she could distinguish them anymore. When the deathwatch beetle had started ticking for Frankie, then sheād been afraid. When sheād stopped speaking and seeing colours for a year, and her children had been by themselves, then sheād been afraid. When she was young, and she sneaked down the stairs with her sister to see what the aunts where up to, then sheād been afraid. In that moment, she was terrified.
And lonely. Sheād never felt more alone or lonely before in her life. She wished she couldāve believed in loveās salvation, but truth was desire had been ruined for her. She wished sheād never spied on the auntsā and seen their customers crying and begging and making fools of themselves. Sheād become love-resistant because of that and, with her sister, sitting on the roof of the house, theyād wished to look up at the stars and not be afraid of it.
But, just like trouble, love came in unannounced and took over before sheād had a chance to reconsider or even think about itāFrankie first, and nowā
Amas Veritasāshe thought about it again, looking into Javierās dark eyes. He will hear my call a mile awayāsheād been just a child, so stupid, thinking that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, to play with. But real love, sheād learned, she was learning, was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didnāt let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.
Sheād learned that with Frankie, and nowā
āOh, donāt,ā she whispered when Javierās hand brushed along her arms, foregoing the letterāand moved closer to him, pulled by gravity, by forces she couldnāt begin to control. āJaviāā
He believed he was going to cryābecause she was saying his name again, soft and gentle and like sheād known it all her life, and his hands were tracing a path up her arms like he knew exactly the shape of her, and trying to learn it by memory all over again.
He wasnāt even sure that was not the case. Perhaps a part of him knew her already, always had.
He had stumbled into love, of that he was certain, and was stuck there. Javier was used to not getting what he wanted, heād learned to deal with it, but with Helena in front of him he couldnāt help but wonder if that had only been because heād never wanted anything too badly. He did now.
āI just do this,ā he said, voice sad and deep and causing the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on edge as he leaned closer, towards the hand she was offering to him like in prayer, and she brushed his cheek as he sighed. āPay no attention,ā he said, but she did. How could she not?
He was there, and she shifted toward him as if to brush her hand along his face, but instead ended up with her arms looped around his neck, his own wrapped around her, holding her closer.
And Helena was terrified, because suddenly she wanted whatever he was promising her, with his lips so close and words so soft she told herself donāt listen, but she couldnāt, because whispers of Iāve been looking for you forever inched their way underneath her skin, warmed by his hands. She wanted to get lostāshe, who couldnāt function without directions, needed it. Him.
Everything she did those days was so unlike her usual self that when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind Javierās shoulder, she couldnāt recognise herself. Looking back at her was a woman who couldāve fallen in love if sheād let herself, a woman who didnāt stop, not even when Javier moved her hair from her neck, the wet locks sending a shiver down her spine that only intensified as the man bowed his head a pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat.
What good would it do her to get involved with someone like him? She wonderedābecause the last time she did, she loved so much she got hurt to the point a part of her had forever vanished. Or so she had thought, because with Javierās lips brushing her skin, the light tickle from his moustache making her eyelids droop, she couldāve believed something had come back alive behind her ribs. She suddenly felt like she had to press a hand down against her chest to make sure her heart wouldnāt escape her body.
āHelenaāā he whispered, his arms tight around herāthe droplets of rain clung to his lips, the taste of her flooding his senses, overpowering everything else. She sighed again, a shudder running down her spine, unsure if it was from his voice or the cold settling in her bones.
Although, if she were to be honest with herself, sheād say she wasnāt cold. She was burning, really, Javierās body so close she could memorise it by touch alone.
āMaybe Iām letting you do this so youāll stop the investigation, even with my confession,ā she said, his head straighteningāhis nose brushed along her jaw, her cheek, and her eyes remained closed. āHave you thought about that? Maybe Iām so desperate Iād fuck anyone, including you.ā
There was a sour taste in her mouth with each cruel word, but she didnāt careāshe forced herself to open her eyes, she knew she needed to see the wounded look on his face with each bitter word. She needed to stop itāwhatever it wasābefore she no longer had the option to. Before the freedom she had longed for forever slipped through her fingers, and she was trapped again in pain, just like the women who used to come at the auntsā back door.
āHelena,ā Javier said again, mournful, and she could almost taste her own name falling from his lips. The tobacco, too. Her mouth parted on instinct, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw down towards her chin, brushing her bottom lip. āYouāre not like that.ā
āReally?ā she scoffed lightly, the noise remaining trapped in her throat when she lifted her gaze to his eyes. āYou donāt know me. You just think you do.ā
āThatās right,ā he nodded, and the tip of his nose brushed hersāone tilt of his chin, one tip of her head, and the agony would be over for both of them. But for the moment they were just suspended in time. āI think I do. I do.ā
āLet go,ā she told Javier, and it sounded almost like a plea. āLet go of me.ā
He did. He wouldāve done anything she asked of him. Let go, hold tighter, kneel, jump into a fire. All of it. So he let go of her, even if it hurt, both of them taking one step backāher arms immediately wrapped around her middle (an attempt to trap his warmth close to her skin), his hands tingling with the loss of her.
āHelenaāā he said once more, her name more and more familiar on his tongue.
āYou have your confession, and you have your proof,ā each word felt like shreds of glass in her throat, while she looked away forcefullyāin the window, her reflection was almost familiar again, still a little wild, but recognisable. āItās up to you. You know where to find me, once you make a decision.ā
āI do,ā he repeated, somewhat stunned, his mind reeling. She took one step to the side, heading for the door. āItās still pouring outside.ā
āI know,ā she only said, and went nevertheless.
For hours her perfume remained in the room, clinging to him for so long he didnāt even notice the smell of his burned dinner. So long the letter had dried on the floor where it had slipped, enough for him to reread it, again and again until heād managed to fall asleep.
Helena couldnāt stop thinking about Javier. From the moment sheād walked out of the motel room, he had been all she could think aboutāon the drive home through the storm, in the warm bath to wash the cold away, doing the dishes, in bed, unable to sleep, dreaming about him while wide awake and in the few hours sheād managed to close her eyes, too. Haunted, just like her sister.
She dreamed of the desert, an apple tree in a yard that wasnāt hers and bloomed without water, and horses that ate apples from that tree and ran faster than all the others, and a man who was taking a bite from a pie sheād made, bound to be hers for life. Sheād woken up smelling apple pie and cinnamon, coffee and tobacco.
So it was no surprise when Javier showed up that same morning. She almost heard him coming. Yet she couldnāt face him right away, so she hid inside, behind her sister, still skittish, behind her daughters, still confused, behind the pretence of making breakfast.
āHeās staying!ā Sophia, the eldest of her daughters, announced, running from the garden to somewhere past the living roomāHelena sighed, eyes closing. āAunt Pheebs! He says heās staying!ā
Helena wondered if, without the feeling of Javierās hands still on her, she wouldāve wondered why Phoebe would care whether or not the man investigating them was staying at their place for breakfast. She wasnāt even sure whether she was glad he was staying or just nauseated.
āCan I help?ā Emma, much quieter than her sister, stepped at her motherās side and pointed at the stove, a half-burned pancake smoking on the pan. Helena threw the failed attempt away and nodded, forcing a smile onto her faceāshe knew the man was in the room with them, she could feel him watching the two of them from the entrance, could see him in her mind as he leaned against the doorway.
āBe careful,ā she murmured, taking one step aside, then another, and more, her own steps echoed by Javierās. They met halfway across the kitchen, her still not looking at him while his eyes never once left her.
āāMorning,ā he hummed, shoulders brushingāHelena moved aside, ignoring the sharp pain in her hip when she bumped into the table.
āGood morning,ā she cleared her throat, brushing her hands down the front of her shirtāand then lowered her voice. āWhy are you here?ā
āYou told me I knew where to find you once Iād made my decision,ā he replied, matching her tone.
āAnd have you?ā her hands began going numb as she clenched them in fists at her sides. She could still feel Javier looking at her.
āIām going back to Laredo,ā her gaze snapped in his direction, so fast the whole room spun as she inhaled sharply, holding her breath. āI thought you should have this. After all, it belongs to you.ā
It took her a moment to manage to focus on the paper he was handing herāher letter, now ruined, a half-destroyed piece of paper sheād poured her heart over, more than once. When she picked it up, their fingers brushed just like the first time, and Helena almost cried out in pain.
āNow, something smells like itās burning,ā she could see the strain in his neck as he turned away from her, looking at Emma. One more moment and then he walked ahead. āNeed a hand?ā
āI was trying to flip it,ā Emma mumbled, a pout forming on her lips that made her look more like her mother. Javier chuckled, settling at her side. āDo you know how?ā she asked suddenly, a hopeful note in her voice Helena hadnāt heard in a while. Her chest constricted, watching the man smirk and roll up his sleeves.
āI absolutely know how to,ā he nodded with a theatrical gesture. āStep aside and observe.ā
Amas Veritas, dancing in Helenaās head as she watched Javier, fitting so well in her kitchen, flip pancakes in the air and making the young girl laugh. It had been a while since Emma had laughed like that, and for a moment she was her soft-voiced and shy 14-year-old again, who liked to look at the stars and sleep with her head on Helenaās lap.
But then her shoulders tensed, her whole position shifting, taking one step away from Javier to turn towards her mother, even though her eyes went past her. Helena knew, without having to turn right away, that something was terribly wrong.
āMom,ā Sophia came running in, breathless, and immediately clung to her arm, tugging harshly. āSomethingās wrong, mom,ā the panic in her voice settled in Helenaās bones, mixing with her own, and she was quick to push her daughter behind her back, stepping away from the door. āItās aunt Pheebs, sheāā
āItās not her,ā Emmaās voice was grave, so unfitting for a young woman, and she inched closer to her mother, too. Which left Javier at the stove, looking at the three of them with confusion and alarm. āItās him, itās the man of the lilacs.ā
āWhat?ā perplexed, Javier took a step forward, only to be stopped by Helenaās extended arm, while she pushed all three of them behind her just as Phoebe walked into the kitchen. Accompanied. āWhat the hellāā Javier exhaled, reaching for his belt.
āAgent PeƱa!ā James exclaimed, translucent as he came into the light. Javierās head started spinning as he stared at him, then at Phoebe Goode, her arm trapped in his vice grip made of fingers of smoke, then back at him. āLong time no see. Howās Laredo? I think Iām starting to feel homesick.ā
As James spoke, Helena had started stepping backwards, her gaze never leaving Phoebeāthe two sisters were looking at each other, guilt and fear and resolution in their gazes that no one but the younger girls could notice, the familiarity an ache on the palms of their hands as they held each othersā, keeping close, keeping behind their mother.
āHelena,ā Javier called, his gaze unwavering as he took hold of his gun. āYou said he was dead.ā
āYes,ā she nodded, and for a split second, Phoebeās eyes showed surprise.
āDoesnāt look like it,ā he retorted, and James scoffed.
āYouāve all spent weeks pretending Iām not hereāwell, almost all,ā he tilted his head, gaze settling onto Emma, and smiled. Helena pushed her daughter into her back, the girl hiding her face against her shoulder, clinging tighter onto her sisterās handāSophia held her chin high, squeezing back. āItās gotten boring.ā
āThen leave,ā in Phoebeās voice there was all the rage of the Goode women before her. But then James turned, his grip tighter on her arm, and Helena watched her sisterās legs tremble. āJust leave us alone,ā she pleaded, eyes widening.
āNo,ā James chuckled, pulling her closerāJavier could see the strain in the womanās shoulder, her face contorting in pain, and could not wrap his head around it. James Hawkins did not look real, or at least not real enough to hurt them. Still, he felt uneasy, even more so when he spoke again, his head lowered next to Phoebeās. āIām feeling very into sisters right now,ā his gaze flickered towards Helena, too, a grin taking over his pale face.
Javier wasnāt looking at her, but he felt Helena straighten her back, look at him, and then turn. He heard her whisper to her daughters, possibly holding them closer, to run into their auntsā room and be mindful of the salt. He heard two sets of steps backtrack, and watched Jamesā face shift into disappointment.
āOh, Lena, Lena, Lenaāyou really do take the fun out of anything, donāt you?ā he took one step forward, dragging Phoebe with himāthe woman cried weakly, trying and failing to escape his hold.
āHey,ā only now that the kids werenāt in the room did Javier lift his gunāalthough he was sure it would do nothing to stop the man, and his widened grin only confirmed it. āLet go of her.ā
āAnd you,ā James groaned, even as Javier placed himself between him and Helena, āyou never, ever learned when to just give up,ā the two men looked at each otherāJavierās gun lifting, Jamesā hand reaching out for him. āYou should let the adultsāā
Before the sentence was over, James screamed, letting go of Phoebe. Helena ignored Javierās surprised gasp in favour of her sister tumbling to the side, quick to reach her before she could even touch the floor.
The same floor where a star shimmered, catching the sunlight. Javier carried it with him everywhere he went, in remembrance of his father, the star-shaped badge heād lived by for ages before retiring. Javier did not believe in luck, good or bad that it was, but he did believe in reminders: of doing the right thing, always. Of never losing sight of who he was.
He picked it up right as James straightened, a hole in his near-invisible hand that echoed its shape. Without thinking, without considering, Javier held it up right as the other manāor whatever was left of himāscreamed in his direction, unintelligible words that probably wouldāve resounded like threats, had Javier been able to hear a single one.
Instead, he stared as the figure vanished, with one longer scream and a curse, the air darkening in front of his eyes and then dissipated into nothing, leaving him to look at the corridor that brought to the stairs, a ringing in his ears.
āItās okay, Pheebs,ā Helenaās voice slowly brought him back, words repeated soothingly as she still held her sister. āItās okay, itās alright,ā reassuring, in spite of her trembling voice. āI need you to call the aunts, Phoebe. I need you to tell them what happened. Can you do that?ā
āIām sorry,ā Phoebe was still saying, her eyes unfocused though she looked up to Helena.
āI know, I knowābut can you?ā Javier could almost see itānights spent with Helena reassuring her sister, hidden under thick blankets or on the rooftop of the house beneath a sky full of stars. āPlease, I need to go to the girls.ā
āOh, the girls,ā Phoebe exhaled, and released the grip on her arm. āOf course. Of course. Iām sorry.ā
Helena didnāt wait, though she lingered enough to rest a kiss to Phoebeās temple, before standing and walking out of the kitchen. It took Javier a moment to come to his senses, and then he went straight after her.
āWhat the hell was that?ā he asked, his mind still reeling, forgetting for a moment the effect he had on her. āWas that him? Did I kill him?ā
āYes, and noātechnically,ā Helena didnāt stop, heading for the stairs she used to sit on when she was a kid to spy on the aunts. āIt was his spirit, which you banished. But I told you, I killed him. And you can do whatever with this information after, but right nowāā
āHold on just a goddamn second, all right?ā Javier grabbed her arm, pulling her right back against him. A split second in which they looked each other in the eyes, and all that had happened the night before came back, all that had been left unsaid before hit them square in the chest, and in that split second, they couldāve almost forgotten all else. āWhat are you talking about? His spirit? I came here to bring in the bad guyāgenerally, thatās what I do, and now youāre telling me about spirits?ā
āIs that why you came here, Javier?ā she stood her ground, her arm still in his hold. āBe honest.ā
āHonesty,ā he scoffed. āI thought I didāand then you were here, and your letterāmaybe thatās what brought me here. Maybe it was you. And Iām all mixed-up about that.ā
Helena was looking at him with that storm still brewing in her eyes, and Javier felt his knees threaten to give out underneath him. His hand fell from her upper arm, down her elbow and wrist, brushing the palm of her hand. She took a slow breath in, lips trembling.
āThe reason youāre here and you donāt know why is because I sent for you,ā she said, quietly.
āI know whyāā
āYou donāt,ā she interrupted him. āWhen I was a little girl, I worked a spell so I would never fall in love. I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldnāt possibly exist,ā she shook her head, while his fingers wrapped around her limp hand. āBut you do.ā
āSo,ā he scoffed, āyouāre saying that what Iām feeling is just one of your spells?ā
āYes, itās not real,ā it sounded like it pained her to say, even though Javier knew she was telling the truth. Or at least thought she was. āAnd if you stay, I wouldnāt know if it was because of the spell, and you wouldnāt know if it was because I donāt want to go to prison.ā
āAll relationships have problems,ā he muttered, and she gave a small, unamused laugh.
āI thought I loved Frankie, but that was another spell too,ā for a split second, she held his hand back, squeezing her fingers around his to the point it hurt. āStill, you donāt want to know what happens if you stay. Weāre all cursed. You saw that,ā and just like that, she let go of him.
āCurses only have power when you believe in them, Helena, and I donāt,ā clenching his fists, Javier stepped back from her. āYou know what? I wished for you too.ā
Helena knew. Heād told her the night before, his lips etching each word onto her skin.
But she watched him go nevertheless, glad he managed to take the steps she couldnāt.
Helena was tired. She had been tired since lying on the floor next to her sister, watching as she was being consumed from inside. But all of that was over. Sheād stared at the letter from Laredo for days after that, keeping it stored with the other one written in her own hand that carried the mark of both her touch and his.
She did her best to not think of him. It was near impossible.
James Hawkinsā cause of death was accidental, read the letter. His body was identified by jewellery in the ashes of a body found in Laredo, right by his property. The same ring heād told her was in his car, the car sheād driven, the car sheād spilt belladonna in.
Sincerely, Javier PeƱa, special investigator.
āI donāt think youāll find him there, Lena,ā Phoebe said softly, when she caught her reading the letter once more. āBut somewhere else, perhaps.ā
For days, she let the words linger. Days turned into weeks turned into months, his absence like an emptiness into her chest. Sheād almost convinced herself it would pass. That, with time, that too would passājust another pain, just another absence. She could deal with it. She could.
And then Javier was there, in her backyard, or at least that was what she thought she was seeing, because it couldnāt be. How could he be there, when he was in her dreams just that night?
āWhat would you do, Pheebs?ā she whispered, her heart beating so loud she wouldnāt be surprised if everybody else could hear.
āWhat wouldnāt I do, for the right man?ā Phoebe whispered in return, gently pushing her forward with a wide smile. āThis is not the auntsā, this is the two of you.ā
All the while, Javier looked at them, standing perfectly still like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do, one of his hands half-raised as if in greeting but without waving, the other buried deep within his pocket. He looked at them, and watched Phoebe quickly lead the girls away even when they tried to run to him, and then Helena walk in his direction.
āA love that even time will lie down and be still for,ā he said as a way of greeting, once they were standing one in front of the other. āEver since I went back, time hasnāt felt real, because you werenāt there. And maybe you still believe itās for a spell you did as a child, or your auntsā faultāā
āHow do you know about the aunts?ā it was hard not to smile when he fidgeted like that.
āYour sister told me,ā he returned, softly. āYour sister called.ā
āAnd youāre here,ā she said, a half-step forward in his direction.
āIām here,ā he nodded, moving the hand out of his pocket and reaching for her tentatively. āIām here because I know this is real. No gimmick, justāā
āLove?ā she suggested, and the glint in her eyes reminded him of the moon itself.
āLove,ā he repeated, their fingers interlocking. āHelena, I mean all of it. Iāll even quit smokinā ifāā
She kissed him, plain and simple. Pulled his hands so that he was stumbling forward and caught his lips with hers, gentle, slow. She kissed him, and as Javier held her, he felt like heād finally gone home. She kissed him, and felt that empty space in her chest filling with the taste of coffee and tobacco.
Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
ok a behind the scenes is that i blanked out on all names while thinking about the husband and frankie was the only one i could think of, without realising the implications. i just went with it lmao
Abstract:Ā Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Words: 12k
Content: original female character (helena goode); alternative universe, magic, death, ghosts, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of an abusive relationship, mildly suggestive language, inspo both from the movie and the book
A/N: it's still halloween, right? i'm sorry for the late late posting but, alas, shit happens. i hope you all enjoy this nevertheless <3
reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too
also on AO3 Ā - masterlist
He will hear my call a mile away. He will whistle my favorite song. He can ride a pony backwards. He can flip pancakes in the air. He'll be marvellously kind. And his favorite shape will be a star. And heāll have eyes like chocolate, worthy of honesty.
Helena Goode often thought about the petals blowing in the air after her Amas Veritas, her true love. Years had gone by since thenāsheād been just a kid, wishing on her true love, her perfect love. Thinking it could not existāfor how could it, when all those women came crying in her auntsā kitchen in the middle of the night? Sheād wished for what she thought could never come to her.
And then there had been Frankieāher love, definitely not perfect, but good, so good. And gone, gone forever, because she had loved him so much. Or so she had thoughtāmaybe that hadnāt been real, maybe there was no such thing as real love, contrary to what her sister said. After all her aunts had played a part in her marriage, and for so long after Frankieās death sheād tried to believe none of it had been real, so that it would hurt less. So that she would not die of a broken heart.
But, in spite of everything, in spite of her bitterness, in spite of her pain, in spite of the loss, she knew some things had been real. Like the coffee he made her in the morning before leaving for work, like the dinners she fixed before he came back, like the colour they picked to paint the walls of their house; like all the times sheād listened for his whistling as he came back from work; like his kisses, and like their two beautiful daughters; like the laughter during the day and the nights spent awake; like the normal life theyād began living, and the shop theyād dreamed of opening together that now belonged to her only.
Like the State Investigator who stood in front of her at the front door, asking after her sisterās boyfriend. A boyfriend she knew to be dead and buried right there in the backyard. Fuck, she kept thinking, looking at the man in front of herāhis eyebrows arched, lips parted under a neatly trimmed moustache, eyes dark as chocolate, andā
āIām sorry?ā she asked, clearing her throat. Dry throat. Sweaty palms. Tongue-tied.
āIs your sister home?ā She knew heād asked that already, and he was being mighty patient about it. āIād like to speak with her, maāam,ā and then, because she had not moved an inch, ānothing to worry about, really. Just routine questions.ā
āSure,ā again Helena cleared her throat, and willed her legs to move. She stepped back, opening the door fully so that she could let him through. āCome on in, Iāll go get her.ā
Fuck, fuck, fuck, over and over as the man nodded and stepped in, walking past her into the entranceāhe smelled of coffee and tobacco, of the desert he came from. Helena closed the door and wiped her hands down the front of her shirt, which she suddenly realised belonged to one of her daughters, with rhinestones adorning the front. Fuck.
āKitchen is just on your left, Iāll be right back.ā
Phoebe Goode was trying her best. Each night she dreamed about Jamesāhis eyes, old and clear, staring at herāand each morning she tried to stop carrying him with her, to forget he ever existed, even though she could still see him on her face, in the bruises around her eye, in the split lip on the point of healingāthanks to her sister salve, the one that smelled of roses. She was trying her best, ignoring the awful fact she felt him still, knowing that the deepest relationship with a man of her whole life was with a dead man.
So she wore blue for protection, and had asked Emma, her niece, to lock her cigarettes away, and tried to sit in silence to meditate and push him away, out of her mind, out of her life for good. She was even back at the house, where sheād sworn she would never go back, because it was safer, because of her sister.
Her sister, running up the stairs, out of breath, in a shirt that did not belong to her and a skirt that mustāve been older than her, so dishevelled-looking Phoebe felt her heart drop for a moment, figured the next words out of her mouth would be James, and honestly anything after that could be awful, because he was. Had been.
āThereās a cop. Agent. Someone,ā Helena was gasping, her voice an alarmed whisper. āHeās looking for you. And Jamesābut he asked for you.ā
āThatās fine, we can manage,ā perhaps the meditation was working, because even after hearing his name she could still think without panic closing her throat. āIāll tell him I havenāt seen him in days, and I came here because weāre done. And if he asks, youāll just sayāā she stopped, frowning at her sister as she shook her head. āWhat? Youāll just say youāve never seen him.ā
āHereās the thing,ā Helena reached for her chest, still shaking her head, still out of breath. Her head was spinning, and her heartāGod, her heartāfelt like it was about to explode. āI donāt think I can lie to him.ā
āOf course you can,ā Phoebe scoffedābut her sister was still having a hard time breathing, her eyes so wide she looked like a deer spooked half to death. āGet over yourself, Lena. Itās fine. Youāre just having a panic attack.ā
āI donāt think itās that. I justāthe way he looks at you,ā she inhaled sharply, a strangled noise scratching her throat and making her sound like a wounded animal, then exhaled, breath stuttering. āI canāt sit there and just lie to him. I know I canāt.ā
āYou have to, Lena,ā but her sisterās eyes darted around the attic, where Phoebe was staying in. She snapped her fingers in front of her face, making her recoil. āListen to me, you have to. We know nothing, nothing happened.ā
Helena and Phoebe had grown up knowing that something was real because they believed in it. That was what gave things powerāmagic, words, talismans. But what happened when two people believed two different things? How did the universe cope with that? Was James dead and buried in their backyard, under lilacs that were growing wildly out of season (girls in the neighbourhood had begun to whisper that if you kissed the boy you loved beneath the Goodeās lilacs heād be yours forever, whether he wanted to be or not), or was he back in Laredo, or off somewhere else, left behind by his girlfriend?
Javier PeƱa was wondering the same as he stood in the odd kitchen of an odd house, there on Magnolia Street.
There were no clocks and no mirrors, in that house, and the floors creaked anywhere but where he stepped; light came pouring in from big, wide windows, showing an even bigger garden with lilacs out of season and more flowers and plants that he could recognise or countārosemary and lavender, roses and daisies, carrots and an apple tree that reminded him strangely of home, but all seemed like a dream through the thick glass. Each piece of furniture inside seemed dusty, but when he ran his fingertip across the dark wooden surface of this table or that cabinet, no dust came awayāno need for polishing anything in there. It smelled of cherrywood. It smelled familiar.
It was a familiarity Javier had not been ready to faceāhe touched the pocket of his jacket, felt the paper tucked in there crinkle at the touch, and a moment later, as if summoned by thought alone, Helena Goode came back down the stairs, slightly more dishevelled looking than before.
Helena had clearly been in the kitchen when he first knocked. He knew because he could almost see it, like a ghost moving around the stove, stirring a pot that had since been turned off, its content left forgotten on the back burden. He knew because sheād called Hold on at the third rattle of his knuckles across the door, matter-of-factly, as if sheād been expecting him. The mere sound of her voice had thrown him for a loop, the patio under his feet shifting unsteadily, and he couldāve followed the sound there with his eyes closed.
He thought then he could be in troubleāand when sheād opened the door, heād known he would. Because heād looked into crystal clear pools of grey and begun drowning, down and down without anything he could do about it. His father had once told him that witches caught you like that: with a look. If you ever meet a woman like that, you run the other way, no matter what, for your own good. Thereās no cowardice in safety. But Javier had no intention of runningāheād rather drown, over and over, if it meant she looked at him like that a little longer.
She stood at the end of the stairs, perfectly still, with that ridiculous shirt with rhinestones across her chest and her dark hair down past her shoulder, brushing the sliver of uncovered skin at her waist. She was beautiful, Javier thought, so ridiculously beautiful he got a lump in his throat just looking at her. For a moment, before her Can I help you? at the door, heād almost forgotten the reason he was there. He almost forgot it again when he saw her shake her head at the end of the stairs, and had to touch the letter tucked next to his heart again.
āCan I get you anything?ā her voice sounded different as she strode into the kitchen. āMy sister will be right down. Coffee?ā she wasnāt looking at him, and Javier wished sheād just stop and turn to face him, if only to forget himself again in her eyes.
But Helena wouldnāt turn. She wouldnāt look at him. She woldnāt look at his face, and his neatly trimmed moustache, and his lovely dark eyes. She wouldnāt look at the lines on his face he was way too young to have, and the loneliness embedded in each of them she knew could be found in the silver strands of her hair, too. Helena figured he was not a man who hid things, just like he was not hiding the fact he was looking at herāshe could feel his eyes burning on the back of her head, and she couldnāt believe the way he was staring at her. Looking at her like that.
It was how dark his eyes were, the problem. The way he could make someoneāherāfeel seen from the inside out.
āCoffeeās fine,ā he said, forcing his gaze away. He looked outside, where in the distance, still filtered like a dream, he could see clouds gathering, a distant storm that seemed to have followed him there. Javierās father had taught him to predict exactly when a storm would hit just by the location of lightning, so that he could prepare the ranch in time to brace for it.
Heād never been very good at it. He thought that lightning, like love, was never ruled by logic. Accidents happened, and they always would.
He looked at Helena again, her back still to himāshe was watching the coffee brew, her arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously against her elbow. Javier looked at her and thought she was familiar to himāheād thought that ever since getting her letter, the one tucked next to his heart, but to see her there in front of him, flesh and bones and long hair and clear eyes, really settled it for him.
Heād heard about it happening to other menāhis friend Steve being one of them. Going about their business one minute and suddenly they found themselves without hope. They fell in love so hard they never got up off their knees again.
Heād never thought it would happen to him. Javier was all businessāhe always had been. It was his need to figure out the why of things, of people. Money, love, furyāthose were the motivations he found usually, in his line of work. James Hawkins fell in the money category, of that he was sure, with perhaps a sprinkle of fury in the shape of his ring marked on the bodies.
Javier had been looking for that ring at Hawkinsā placeāheād seen it in pictures, read it in descriptions, remembered it from the few times his path had trailed along Hawkinsā, because Laredo wasnāt that big of a place, and faces grew familiar over timeāwhen the letter had arrived.
Crumpled and torn in one corner, the flap already opened, Javier had looked at it and thought he shouldāve taken it directly to the office. But an open letter was hard to resist, even for someone like Javier, who had resisted a whole lot in his life. But that letter was something else, something tempting, and he gave into it.
He never regretted it.
He had just sat there, on the patio of the house of the man he was looking for, and read the letter Helena Goode had written to her sister. When he was done, heād read it again. And again. And twice more midair, and then while he had his lunch, and once more when heād settled in his hotel room. Even when the letter was folded back into its envelope and stored in the pocket of his jacket, the words came back to haunt himāwhole sentences written by Helena forming in his mind.
Javier had been close to people, and while he didnāt have that many friends he was contentāheād even almost gotten married after high school, although thatās a topic no one ever brought up, not even himself. But heād never once felt like heād known anyone the way he felt he knew the woman who had written that letter. It felt like someone had ripped a piece of his soul out of him and formed into words. Words he was so taken by he wouldnāt have heard, seen, or felt a thing as long as he was reading them.
I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm, or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen.
Javier wanted to tell her that he saw her. Right there in front of him, and even when she was not there, when he had not the faintest clue what she looked like, he saw her. He saw her standing, moving the coffee pot from the fire. He saw her pouring the coffee in three mismatched cups. He saw her hands shaking as she did so.
āAre you okay?ā he asked, and she recoiled as if startled by his voice.
āI think Iām going to sit down,ā Helena said, casually, as if she didnāt seem about to collapse.
Still she brought two of the cups over, almost spilling the contents of one, and collapsed onto the chair opposite Javi with a shuddering sigh, her cheeks flushed, her chest fluttering. She wondered if drinking coffee would be a good idea at that moment, still feeling as if her heart might explode, but needed something to keep herself busy, so she brought the cup to her mouth and gulped down the scalding drink, burning the roof of her mouth and her lips.
āWhy are you here?ā she asked then, bitterness coating her tongue. She was used to sugar in her coffee, most times a dash of milk. āI mean, I understood what you told meāabout Phoebeās boyfriendābut why here?ā
She saw the man hesitateāhe did not strike her as someone who hesitated in anything, but he was pondering her words and how to best respond to her, his lips shifting to draw in a breath, and then exhale. He reached for his jacketāhe still hadnāt taken that off, and with the movement it hugged his shoulders tight, seams pulling uncomfortablyāand, from one of the inner pockets, took a piece of paper that he handed to her.
āI mailed that to my sister ages ago,ā Helena recognised it immediatelyāthat letter she was so grateful had never reached Phoebe, but also wished it had a little earlier, so she wouldnāt be in that mess. Thereās a halo around the moon tonight. I think trouble is coming. I wish youād get out of there. Come back home. Alone. āYou opened it,ā she added then, a little baffled.
He hadnāt just opened it. Heād read it. The paper consumed from being folded over and over again, each line marked deeper where it bent, words slightly smudged as if someone had run their fingers over each and every of it.
āIt was opened already,ā he retorted, justifying. āIt must have gotten lost at the post office.ā
āBut you read it,ā the cup was burning her palm, the letter her other hand, her face was burning too under his gaze.
āMaybe a thousand times,ā Javier admitted, his voice dropping.
āIt was a very personal letter,ā she whispered too, feeling the tightness inside her throat and belly and chest grow, and grow, and grow until it was choking her. That had to be what a heart attack felt like. Perhaps she was about to end up on the floor unconscious.
āI know,ā the man said, and at last she looked at him.
He saw her but, Javier knew, she saw him too. She couldāve seen how Javier wasnāt sure how far heād go to cover for someoneāheād never been in that position before, and he despised the way it felt. But he was there, sitting in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, a total stranger on a humid day, wondering if he was going to look the other way because of her. She could see all thatāor at least, she hoped.
And then Phoebe came down. Noisy steps down the stairs, announcing her presence to the entire worldāshe always had that about her, always managed to bring the attention to her, with her lovely strawberry-blonde hair and her long lashes and full lips. Even with the bruises, even with the wounds, even with her fear embedded so deeply into her skin it was painful, Phoebe was beautiful.
Still, Javier focused on Helena, and it wasnāt until her sister stood at her side that he caught a glimpse of her. Night and day, thatās what the aunts called them. He didnāt know, but he wouldāve agreedāso starkly different, yet seemingly in tune with each other.
āAs Iāve said your sister, I wonāt take up much of your time,ā Javier cleared his throat, offered his hand to Phoebe as he stood. He missed the feeling of his letter against his body, but Helena was clutching it tight, pressing it against her stomach. āItās just a couple of questions, routine checks.ā
āOf courseāagent, is it?ā Phoebeās voice was soft where Helenaās was strong. She took up space just by standing, her arms folded in front of her as she held the third cup that had been on the counter.
āYes, maāamāAgent PeƱa.ā Only then did she take his hand, a delicate shake before turning his palm up towards her face, peering down with an interested hum.
āYouāve come a long way just for a couple of routine questions, Agent PeƱa.ā Her thumb ran along one of the lines on his palm, tracing it with a feather-like touch. Her brows knitted for a moment, confusion locking on her features (eyes darting towards her sister) before she shook herself. āI see here itāll be worth the trip,ā she mused, tapping his palm.
āRight.ā Again he cleared his throat, and pulled his hand back. āWhen was the last time you saw James Hawkins?ā
āAh, a man of action,ā Phoebe scoffed lightly, then shrugged. āCouple of weeks, just before I came here. It just wasnāt working anymore.ā
āIs he responsible for that?ā he asked, gesturing towards her face, the bruises.
āAs Iāve said, it wasnāt working anymore,ā she tipped her chin up, leaned with her hip against Helenaās chair. āI have no idea where he might be. If a man hits me, he only does it once,ā Helenaās breath hitched, her grip on both the cup and letter tightening.
āWhat about the car? The one with the Texas plateāitās registered in his name,ā Javier thought he might as well reveal all his cards from the beginning. Neither sister was stupid, but still Phoebe was lyingāhe knew she was. He had seen that look before, countless times: people who are guilty of something think they can hide it by not looking at you. Or looking at you too much.
Helena wasnāt looking at him anymoreāagain. Phoebe was staring him down. But Helena wasnāt looking at him, because she knew, she was certain, that could not lie to the man. She feared her eyes would betray her too, like her heart was doing, like she imagined her words would if she were to say anything more.
āI took it when I ran,ā Phoebe said, sighing. āAnd I know thatās wrong, so you may take it right awayāI just needed a way out. That was the fastest.ā
She was good, Javier managed to think in that haze-like feeling heād found himself in since heād walked into the house. Since heād seen Helena. Her eyes.
āAnd you have not heard from him since?ā Phoebe shook her head, sipping on her coffee and grimacingātoo bitter, too strong. But it helped keep her mind away from the times she had heard from Jamesāin her dreams, nightmares, really; or when she was distracted, and his voice crept into her head; or when she looked in the mirror and his reflection stared back.
āI have not,ā she smacked her lips, the taste of the coffee lingering on the tip of her tongue.
āAlright, well,ā Javier picked his cup and drank most of the coffee that remainedāhe liked it that way, black and strong, it reminded him of his fatherāthen went to the sink to rinse the cup. Helena watched him while his back was turned, and almost smiled at the way he let the water slosh from side to side enough to get any residue off before settling it upside down. āIf anything comes to mind, Iāll be around a couple of days longerāIām staying at the Hide-A-Way Motel.ā
āReally?ā was the first thing Helena said in what felt like ages. Javier turned aroundāhe was just stalling then. He wanted to remain there, with her. He wanted to keep on looking into Helenaās eyes and drown, drown, drown for days. He saw nothing else but her eyes.
āLady at the car rental desk suggested itāit isnāt half bad,ā he shrugged, and smoothed his jacket down. He felt the absence of the letter when he ran his hand across his chest, and the paper did not crinkle under his touch. Helena curled her fingers around her words. āNice area.ā
āIt is,ā she should knowāher shop was one street away from the motel. Sheād picked the area with Frankie because of how nice it was, close enough to the park it gave the impression of being around nature, but not so far from town that nobody would walk by the shop.
Phoebe watched the agent and her sister look at each other and frownedāfor a moment, what sheād seen on PeƱaās palm flashed before her eyes again. A new beginning, a line cut through by something, someone he could not escape. It had been written on his skin since the beginning. Some fates were just guaranteed.
āIf I happen to remember anything else, Iāll come around,ā Phoebe said, cutting through the crackle of energy that passed from one to the other. It was as if sheād woken them up from a dream, a dream made of only looks and silence. āYou can have the car taken away.ā
āGreat,ā he cleared his throat, and forced himself to back away. He knew that if he lingered any longer, heād never want to leave. It was hard enough already. āThanks.ā
Helena felt like she was losing her mind.
The night before, a ring had appeared around the moon. A halo around the moon was always a sign of disruptionābut it was a double ring, all tangled up, anything could happen. Helena didnāt like the thought, and she hadnāt been able to sleep all night.
The sparrow that used to fly each midsummerās eve into the house on Magnolia Street had come back, out of season, round and round the dining roomāher daughters had counted each circle: three. Three meant trouble, it always had. Sheād chased it out with her sister, both of them on edge.
And it rained. All night and through the morning, one of her daughters standing by the window looking at the lilacs being hit by drop after drop, tapping her fingers nervously. Emma was looking at the man in their backyard, who stared back at them like from a vision, a nightmare rather than a dream. She was hoping he would go away, but the bad weather did not bother himāhe seemed to relish in the black skies and the wild wind, and the rain passed through him. Emma thoughtāshe knewāit was his fault that things were going amiss in the house, even though she didnāt know the extent of it: pipes rusting and the tile floor of the basement turning to dust, nothing in the refrigerator would stay fresh.
Both sets of sisters fought, loud and mean and just like he wanted them to. Emma wouldāve liked them all to stop. Helena thought of chopping the lilacs all night long, but had to go to work.
And then there was Javier. Agent PeƱa, who walked around town and talked to everyone and was always there when she turned around from the counter. Javier, with a cigarette hanging from his lips at every street corner. Always there, always there, always there.
āFuck!ā Helena exclaimed, when the jar she was trying to place on the shelf fell and shattered on the ground, shards of glass flying around her ankles and the contentsācurled dried leavesāspilling across the clean floor. āGod, give me a break.ā
āAre you okay, Lena?ā a voice called from the other side of the shop. Helena didnāt have many friendsāit came with the Goode name, being shunned away. But Crystal was one of the few who did not shy away, besides being a good employee. āLet me help you.ā
āItās alright, I just havenāt been sleeping well,ā she went to gather the glass and leaves, both crunching as she moved the broom across them. āBut could you put the kettle on? Maybe some tea will do me good,ā even though she craved coffee desperately.
Sheād craved coffee ever since sheād met with the agent. Black and bitter. She could smell it in the air around her, no matter which room she walked in, or which streetāalong with tobacco and more. Sheād never smoked a cigarette in her life but now felt her fingers itch as if reaching for one.
Crystal obliged without questionāsheād learned early on that many things around Helena Goode just did not make sense, and there was no point in prying. It had been that way since they were children. Her mother liked the Goode aunts, said that it was not their fault for more than two hundred years their family had been blamed for everything that went wrong in town.
Some people are just different. Most people are just stupid to be afraid of it.
She remembered their classmates being terrified of the day a bunch of cats followed Helena to schoolāwitchery, they called it. A witch and her familiars. Nasty, nasty creatures, the whole lot of them. But Crystal remembered Helena being kind and poised, she remembered her balanced lunches, and the way she always looked out for her sister. She still did. Why people would think Helena and Phoebe had any evil in them escaped her.
Goode women ignored convention; they were headstrong and willful, and meant to be that way.
āThank you, Crystal,ā Helena said from the kitchenette, throwing away the spoiled merchandise..
āAre you sure you wouldnāt rather go home? I can look after the shop,ā but even as she asked, Helena was shaking her head, lips trembling with her deep inhale. āLena, did something happen?ā
āItās notāā a bell. The shopās bell. Helena looked up from her mug, the smell of lavender easing her headache a little, and then turned. āIāll get it.ā
He was everywhere, always there, always there, in her shop, too. Helena stood frozen next to the counter and looked at the agent who was looking aroundāa feeble attempt at not immediately turning towards her, not falling into her eyes right away.
āYes?ā she managed to ask, her throat dry once again. Just by his mere presence.
āIām afraid I forgot to bring enough toothpaste,ā Javier lied. Heād thrown an almost full tube in the bin just that morningāstill wasnāt sure why. Maybe because so many people had told him about Helenaās shop, just around the corner. How the woman was the way she was, but her products were amazing.
āYou couldāve gone to the market,ā she said, but placed her mug down and moved to the shelf anyway. Once she wasnāt looking at him, she managed to exhale again, but still his eyes burned on the back of her head, and she suddenly felt conscious of the fact she probably had forgotten to brush her hair in the morning.
āYes,ā he retorted, and didnāt add anything else. He knew he couldāve, but he didnāt want to. And he couldāve told her it was because so many people had recommended her stuff, or because the shop was closer to his motel. But he didnāt.
āAny allergies?ā she asked, moving the stool closer to the shelf.
āNo, maāam.ā She paused, one foot up the step as she bit her tongueājust a moment, then she climbed and grabbed a jar, the label scribbled so hurriedly it was unreadable, the dark paste inside a stark contrast with the white paper.
āCharcoalāwhitens the teeth,ā she moved back down, the counter between them as she handed the product to himāher eyes flickered towards the cigarette that heād tucked over his ear, shaking her head lightly. āNasty habit,ā she muttered, lowering her gaze.
āIām aware,ā Javier chuckledāas he took the jar, he grazed her fingers. Helena pulled back as if sheād been burned, fingertips curling into her palm and pressing harshly. āDoes this stuff actually work?ā he cleared his throat, turning it in his palm to glance at the label again.
He knew her handwriting. He could read it like the back of his hand. I have this dream of being whole.
āIt does,ā Crystal called as she walked in from the kitchenette, and Helena leaned over the counter and reached for her mugāanything to keep her hands busy. āSee for yourself. On the house.ā
āHe canāt accept it on the house, Crystal,ā she said, moving back. āThereās an investigation ongoingāisnāt that right?ā it looked as if she might turn to him while she addressed him, but didnāt. Again.
āThatās right,ā Javier cleared his throat, shuffling a little. He was so close to the counter he could feel the edge of it dig into his stomach, and forced himself to look at the other woman. āBut are you giving me your word? That it works.ā
He was a charmer. Helena knew alreadyāCrystal was just finding out. She wanted to ask what investigation Helena was talking about, what was happening at the house on Magnolia Street that she desperately did not want to go back, and what was happening with the agent so desperately trying to meet her eyes.
āCross my heart,ā she said instead, because she knew this would be another inexplicable moment. Sheād made her peace with it. āSwear to God, this woman is a magician. Let me ring you up.ā
Helena hid her face with the mug, the dwindling steam turning her cheeks a soft shade of red. At the same time, Javier scoffed lightly.
āRight,ā he muttered, reaching for his wallet. āHeard that one before. Thanks.ā
It took a moment for Helena to register his wordsāshe was trying so hard to not hear him, to not focus on him, that she didnāt understand what he was saying until he was out of the door, an echo of the bell ringing in her mind.
āWait, what?ā she placed the mug down, looking up at his back behind the glass. āHold on.ā
She shouldnāt have gone after him. She shouldāve known better. Helena spent her whole life being vigilant, she spent her whole life relying on logic and common sense, sheād taken care of everything from the moment her parents had died, and then again when Frankie had diedāshe thought about everything.
She had to, because otherwise how would her kids have made it to fourteen and fifteen?
She had to, because if she stopped thinking about everything, what exactly was she left with? Her thoughts and worries are the only reason she continued to exist, of that she was certain.
Never look back, never change direction, thatās what she had to tell herself. Donāt think about being alone in the dark, or storms or lightning and thunder, or the true love you wonāt ever have. Life, she knew, was brushing her teeth and making breakfast for her kids and not letting her mind wander.
But that was a lieāfrom the beginning Helena had been lying to herself, telling herself she could handle anything: her parents dying, her sister relying on her, her auntsā reputation, Frankie, Frankieās death, the spell, the year where everything went grey, her children, and now this. Sheād grown tiredāshe didnāt want to lie anymore. One more lie and sheād be lost. One more lie and sheād never find her way back through the woods.
And itās all because of him.
āWhat did you mean?ā she stopped abruptly when he did, taking a step back when he turned to look at her. She tugged her cardigan close, the wind whipping the ends around along with her hair, and tipped her chin up with her arms crossed, finally, finally looking back at him. āHeard that one before?ā she echoed. āIs that why you were at my shop?ā
āNo,ā he shook his head. āItās because I needed toothpaste, and Iām just around the corner,ā she scoffed lightly, shuffling her feet. āBut actually, yes, I heard a bunch of stuff that doesnāt make sense at all, so Iād like to understand.ā
āWhy?ā
āBecause itās my job,ā he retorted. āBecause, seriously, I have heard it all. A family of witches, a curse, your own husbandāā
āDonāt,ā she snapped, and for a moment Javier recoiled, saw the truth in the words of all the people who had warned him off Helena Goode. With her hair dancing in the wind, and her cheeks still red, and her eyes oh-so-clear, like a storm incoming, he understood. āDo not bring Frankie into this.ā
āHard not to, when itās everything this town talks about,ā he took a step forward, her whole body seizing up. āDo you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? People tell me youāre here cooking up placenta bars, that youāre into devil worship.ā
āYou think I donāt know that?ā her voice was lower, and pulled him closer. āAll my life, this townāI know what they say about me, I know what everybody thinks.ā She wanted to move awayāshe wanted to lean in. She remained still. āAll my life I wanted nothing more than to be seen as normal, but thatās just not the way it is. I donāt have a ranch house or a white picket fence, I donāt have a husband thatās alive anymore, I donāt haveāā she cut herself off, unsure as to why she was so ready to pour her heart out to a stranger in the middle of the street. āI donāt see how thatās my fault.ā
āI never said it was,ā Javier spoke softly, a gentleness that felt foreign on his tongue but rolled off easily when he looked at her.
āThen why are you here?ā her chin was still up, but she was looking down at her nose, careful to avoid his gazeāit made him believe that she, too, felt that tug in the pit of her stomach. She was just better at controlling it.
Your letter, he almost said. You.
āJames Hawkins,ā he replied instead. āA guy like that doesnāt simply vanish.ā
āAnd would that be such a big loss?ā she scoffed, tightening her arms around herself. āA guy like thatāwouldnāt it be so much better if he did just vanish?ā
āMaybe,ā he shrugged, and felt his hands move before he could control himself. āBut I made a vow, and I have a jobāā his fingertips grazed her arm, and at that she pulled back.
āAs do I,ā one hand moved to the point heād brushed, holding the spot as if it hurt, tight against her chest. āSo unless you have something you want to ask me, Agent PeƱa, Iād rather get back to it.ā
āAre you or your sister hiding James Hawkins?ā
āHeās not here, no.ā
āDid you or your sister kill James Hawkins?ā he asked, and her eyebrows arched.
āOh, yeah. Couple of times,ā Javier sighed, and forced himself back, his hand now itching for his cigarette. āIs that all?ā he put it between his lips, ignoring the frown forming on her brow.
āYeah, sure,ā he didnāt light it up just yet, but reached for the lighter neverthelessāhe missed the letter in his pocket whenever he touched it. āBye, Helena.ā
He watched her go back inside the shop with her shoulders pulled back tight, steps unsteady, and only when the door was closed, the echo of the bell ringing in his ears, did he light up the cigarette.
She watched him go away from inside the shop, with his steps matching the thundering of her heart.
āWhat is wrong with you?ā Phoebe watched her sister kneel on the ground, pruning shears in hand and purple flowers all around her, on her. āWhat are you doing?ā
āIām tired of seeing these every time I look out of the window,ā her breath was shortāthe flowers seemed endless, she cut and cut and cut and still they were there. āAnd the smellāI hate it. I canāt do it anymore.ā
āLenaāLena! Itās just flowers!ā although Phoebe knew it was not entirely true. Mostly, she ignored the lilacs, and everything that was underneath it. Especially what was underneath it. āStop it, before you hurt yourself.ā
āOh, now youāre thinking about that?ā Helena dropped the shears and stood, the soil on her jeans already a stain she wouldnāt manage to remove. āNow that thereās a cop after us? Now you think I might hurt myself?ā
āSo what? We stick to our story. No body, no crime,ā she gestured towards the lilacs. āThere is not a single reason why he should think weāve done something, unless you give him one.ā
āBut we did, Phoebe. You understand that, donāt you?ā she hissed, walking up to her sister. āWe fucked up, and somehow Iām still the one whoās cleaning up your messes,ā Phoebeās eyes widened, mouth set in a thin line. āIām sick of this.ā
āI never asked you to, I neverāā
āEnough lies, Pheebs. Arenāt you tired?ā Helena smelled like the lilacs, and her headache was back, stronger and stronger as the storm approached from the horizon. āI know I am. Iām so tired of lying.ā
āWhat are you talking about?ā Phoebe had lowered her voice, and was looking at her sister as if she could not recognise her. āLenaāyou canāt do that,ā even as she said it, Helena walked past her, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans. āYou canāt go to him,ā she said, following her. āWeāll both be sitting in jail if you do. What about the girls? Why are you even thinking about it now?ā
Helena wasnāt sure why. She knew sheād woken up smelling cigarettes and coffee again, and the lilacs, and the nightmare still clinging to her eyelids, making her feel unrested as she had for the past days. Weeks. She wasnāt sure anymore. All she knew is that her throat hurt from all the lies sheād told Javier, and she wanted to come clean, to tell allāshe wanted someone to listen to what she had to say and really hear her, the way no one ever had before. So sheād gone to work, and back home to cut the flowers, and as sundown approached she would go out for Javier.
āDonāt tell me about the girls now, when I spent half my life thinking only about them,ā she said loudly, marching in and out of room after room of the house, grabbing things she wasnāt even sure she needed. āAnd you? You only ever thought about yourself. You left me here. You lived your life. And you dragged me back in just to save your ass.ā
āOh, thatās it, isnāt it?ā Phoebe screamed too, from the middle of the house, following the noises of her sister as she stomped around. āI lived my life and you hate me for it!ā
āI donāt hate you, Phoebe.ā
āNo, no, sureāyouāre unbelievable. You spent all your life trying to be normal and fit in, but you never will! You know weāre different, and so are your girls,ā Helena stopped abruptly to look at her.
āThatās twice nowāyou leave them out of this,ā she said with a scowl so similar to that of their motherās, if only either of them could remember her.
āAll my life Iāve wished I had half your talentāyouāre wasting yourself, Lena,ā Phoebe cried, and for a moment she sounded just like the little girl who had just gotten to the auntsā house. āAnd now youāwhat? Youāre gonna turn yourself in? Or get down on your knees and beg for mercy?ā
āIf Iāll have to, yes,ā Helena said without a second thought, fixing her sister with a look. āIām done.ā
They both measured themselves harshly, always had, as if they had never been anything but those two plain little girls, waiting at the airport for someone to claim them.
If you go against what you believe in, youāre nothing. That was another thing his father liked to sayāand Javier knew he was right. So he was going to stick to his plan: fly back home and give up the case to the poor bastard who was supposed to get it from the beginning, had it not been for the letter. He was going to go back to work as usual, forget about the whole ordeal, forget about grey eyes and dark hair and his own heart.
Heart, heart, heart beating to the sound of the knocking on his door, that for a moment heād thought to be rain pattering on the ground and the roof, such the strength of the storm was. But he heard it, and when he opened the door, Helena was there, shivering and looking up at him.
āYou want a confession?ā
In his line of work, Javier had been trained to notice things, but he couldnāt quite believe what he was seeing. Part of the reason was that heād been imagining Helena everywhere he went. So maybe it was just an illusion, a desire of his heart turned into a vision.
āWhat?ā he stepped aside and, water falling from her hair, Helena walked in, trailing mud behind.
āYou want a confession, donāt you? Itās why youāre still here,ā she was shaking, arms crossed over her chest with wet clothes clinging to her. āWe killed James. Technically, I killed James. I used belladonna.ā
āI know,ā Helena frowned, moved the hair out of her face with trembling hands.
āYou know?ā she sniffled, part from the cold part from the smell attacking her nostrilsācoffee and tobacco and, surprisingly, food.
āI found some in the carāsaw the same thing in your shop and had it analyzed,ā he closed the door, careful to not turn the lock, leaving her a way out as he moved back towards the kitchenette. āHis ring was in there, too. There was blood on it. Have you had any dinner?ā
āIāwhat is this, some sort of joke?ā she asked, slightly out of breath, and stepped in his direction. Javier scoffed, his back to her as he shook his head a little.
āFar from it,ā he muttered, turning the stove off. Still, he didnāt move to look at herāif he did, he wouldnāt be able to say what he had to. He could feel her shiver, just a few steps from him, and it took everything in him to not reach over and grab her and hold her close. āBut I have no idea what to do from here. I canāt say that Iām sorry Hawkins is gone, and I canātāā
āJavierāā he exhaledāit was the first time she said his name, and he gripped the counter with both hands as he closed his eyes. Through the rain, and the soil, and the smoke in his room, he could smell lilacs and that same scent that had clung to the letter, which had bled onto his fingers each time he reread it.
āI was gonna turn over the case,ā she held her breath at his wordsāhe heard the light hiccup as her lips sealed, and slowly turned, though his gaze remained lowered. āI canāt say Iām impartial anymoreāI can pretend, but Iām not. I no longer can tell whatās right and whatās wrong and youāyou came here, and what did you think would happen?ā
āI donāt know,ā her voice was small, and Javier knew she was looking at himāthe roles had switched, he could feel her gaze burning across his skin. āThatās the thing, I donāt know. Iām tiredāof lying, of hiding, of those fucking flowers,ā she sniffled, and from the corner of his eyes he could see her rubbing her arms. āThe thing is, Iām pretty sure itās because of you, and I canāt stand itābecause I know Iāll get hurt, and my sister will get hurt, and my children, too.ā
āThen why,ā his voice had dropped slightly, and he took one more step forward, looking up at lastāthey were standing so close now, heat radiating off of him and clinging to her chilling bones, āare you here, Helena?ā
āI donāt know,ā she whispered, her hands seeking him before she could even realise. āMaybe this,ā her letter was almost destroyed, wet and crumpled as she held it between them.
Fear or lonelinessāshe wasnāt sure she could distinguish them anymore. When the deathwatch beetle had started ticking for Frankie, then sheād been afraid. When sheād stopped speaking and seeing colours for a year, and her children had been by themselves, then sheād been afraid. When she was young, and she sneaked down the stairs with her sister to see what the aunts where up to, then sheād been afraid. In that moment, she was terrified.
And lonely. Sheād never felt more alone or lonely before in her life. She wished she couldāve believed in loveās salvation, but truth was desire had been ruined for her. She wished sheād never spied on the auntsā and seen their customers crying and begging and making fools of themselves. Sheād become love-resistant because of that and, with her sister, sitting on the roof of the house, theyād wished to look up at the stars and not be afraid of it.
But, just like trouble, love came in unannounced and took over before sheād had a chance to reconsider or even think about itāFrankie first, and nowā
Amas Veritasāshe thought about it again, looking into Javierās dark eyes. He will hear my call a mile awayāsheād been just a child, so stupid, thinking that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, to play with. But real love, sheād learned, she was learning, was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didnāt let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.
Sheād learned that with Frankie, and nowā
āOh, donāt,ā she whispered when Javierās hand brushed along her arms, foregoing the letterāand moved closer to him, pulled by gravity, by forces she couldnāt begin to control. āJaviāā
He believed he was going to cryābecause she was saying his name again, soft and gentle and like sheād known it all her life, and his hands were tracing a path up her arms like he knew exactly the shape of her, and trying to learn it by memory all over again.
He wasnāt even sure that was not the case. Perhaps a part of him knew her already, always had.
He had stumbled into love, of that he was certain, and was stuck there. Javier was used to not getting what he wanted, heād learned to deal with it, but with Helena in front of him he couldnāt help but wonder if that had only been because heād never wanted anything too badly. He did now.
āI just do this,ā he said, voice sad and deep and causing the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on edge as he leaned closer, towards the hand she was offering to him like in prayer, and she brushed his cheek as he sighed. āPay no attention,ā he said, but she did. How could she not?
He was there, and she shifted toward him as if to brush her hand along his face, but instead ended up with her arms looped around his neck, his own wrapped around her, holding her closer.
And Helena was terrified, because suddenly she wanted whatever he was promising her, with his lips so close and words so soft she told herself donāt listen, but she couldnāt, because whispers of Iāve been looking for you forever inched their way underneath her skin, warmed by his hands. She wanted to get lostāshe, who couldnāt function without directions, needed it. Him.
Everything she did those days was so unlike her usual self that when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind Javierās shoulder, she couldnāt recognise herself. Looking back at her was a woman who couldāve fallen in love if sheād let herself, a woman who didnāt stop, not even when Javier moved her hair from her neck, the wet locks sending a shiver down her spine that only intensified as the man bowed his head a pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat.
What good would it do her to get involved with someone like him? She wonderedābecause the last time she did, she loved so much she got hurt to the point a part of her had forever vanished. Or so she had thought, because with Javierās lips brushing her skin, the light tickle from his moustache making her eyelids droop, she couldāve believed something had come back alive behind her ribs. She suddenly felt like she had to press a hand down against her chest to make sure her heart wouldnāt escape her body.
āHelenaāā he whispered, his arms tight around herāthe droplets of rain clung to his lips, the taste of her flooding his senses, overpowering everything else. She sighed again, a shudder running down her spine, unsure if it was from his voice or the cold settling in her bones.
Although, if she were to be honest with herself, sheād say she wasnāt cold. She was burning, really, Javierās body so close she could memorise it by touch alone.
āMaybe Iām letting you do this so youāll stop the investigation, even with my confession,ā she said, his head straighteningāhis nose brushed along her jaw, her cheek, and her eyes remained closed. āHave you thought about that? Maybe Iām so desperate Iād fuck anyone, including you.ā
There was a sour taste in her mouth with each cruel word, but she didnāt careāshe forced herself to open her eyes, she knew she needed to see the wounded look on his face with each bitter word. She needed to stop itāwhatever it wasābefore she no longer had the option to. Before the freedom she had longed for forever slipped through her fingers, and she was trapped again in pain, just like the women who used to come at the auntsā back door.
āHelena,ā Javier said again, mournful, and she could almost taste her own name falling from his lips. The tobacco, too. Her mouth parted on instinct, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw down towards her chin, brushing her bottom lip. āYouāre not like that.ā
āReally?ā she scoffed lightly, the noise remaining trapped in her throat when she lifted her gaze to his eyes. āYou donāt know me. You just think you do.ā
āThatās right,ā he nodded, and the tip of his nose brushed hersāone tilt of his chin, one tip of her head, and the agony would be over for both of them. But for the moment they were just suspended in time. āI think I do. I do.ā
āLet go,ā she told Javier, and it sounded almost like a plea. āLet go of me.ā
He did. He wouldāve done anything she asked of him. Let go, hold tighter, kneel, jump into a fire. All of it. So he let go of her, even if it hurt, both of them taking one step backāher arms immediately wrapped around her middle (an attempt to trap his warmth close to her skin), his hands tingling with the loss of her.
āHelenaāā he said once more, her name more and more familiar on his tongue.
āYou have your confession, and you have your proof,ā each word felt like shreds of glass in her throat, while she looked away forcefullyāin the window, her reflection was almost familiar again, still a little wild, but recognisable. āItās up to you. You know where to find me, once you make a decision.ā
āI do,ā he repeated, somewhat stunned, his mind reeling. She took one step to the side, heading for the door. āItās still pouring outside.ā
āI know,ā she only said, and went nevertheless.
For hours her perfume remained in the room, clinging to him for so long he didnāt even notice the smell of his burned dinner. So long the letter had dried on the floor where it had slipped, enough for him to reread it, again and again until heād managed to fall asleep.
Helena couldnāt stop thinking about Javier. From the moment sheād walked out of the motel room, he had been all she could think aboutāon the drive home through the storm, in the warm bath to wash the cold away, doing the dishes, in bed, unable to sleep, dreaming about him while wide awake and in the few hours sheād managed to close her eyes, too. Haunted, just like her sister.
She dreamed of the desert, an apple tree in a yard that wasnāt hers and bloomed without water, and horses that ate apples from that tree and ran faster than all the others, and a man who was taking a bite from a pie sheād made, bound to be hers for life. Sheād woken up smelling apple pie and cinnamon, coffee and tobacco.
So it was no surprise when Javier showed up that same morning. She almost heard him coming. Yet she couldnāt face him right away, so she hid inside, behind her sister, still skittish, behind her daughters, still confused, behind the pretence of making breakfast.
āHeās staying!ā Sophia, the eldest of her daughters, announced, running from the garden to somewhere past the living roomāHelena sighed, eyes closing. āAunt Pheebs! He says heās staying!ā
Helena wondered if, without the feeling of Javierās hands still on her, she wouldāve wondered why Phoebe would care whether or not the man investigating them was staying at their place for breakfast. She wasnāt even sure whether she was glad he was staying or just nauseated.
āCan I help?ā Emma, much quieter than her sister, stepped at her motherās side and pointed at the stove, a half-burned pancake smoking on the pan. Helena threw the failed attempt away and nodded, forcing a smile onto her faceāshe knew the man was in the room with them, she could feel him watching the two of them from the entrance, could see him in her mind as he leaned against the doorway.
āBe careful,ā she murmured, taking one step aside, then another, and more, her own steps echoed by Javierās. They met halfway across the kitchen, her still not looking at him while his eyes never once left her.
āāMorning,ā he hummed, shoulders brushingāHelena moved aside, ignoring the sharp pain in her hip when she bumped into the table.
āGood morning,ā she cleared her throat, brushing her hands down the front of her shirtāand then lowered her voice. āWhy are you here?ā
āYou told me I knew where to find you once Iād made my decision,ā he replied, matching her tone.
āAnd have you?ā her hands began going numb as she clenched them in fists at her sides. She could still feel Javier looking at her.
āIām going back to Laredo,ā her gaze snapped in his direction, so fast the whole room spun as she inhaled sharply, holding her breath. āI thought you should have this. After all, it belongs to you.ā
It took her a moment to manage to focus on the paper he was handing herāher letter, now ruined, a half-destroyed piece of paper sheād poured her heart over, more than once. When she picked it up, their fingers brushed just like the first time, and Helena almost cried out in pain.
āNow, something smells like itās burning,ā she could see the strain in his neck as he turned away from her, looking at Emma. One more moment and then he walked ahead. āNeed a hand?ā
āI was trying to flip it,ā Emma mumbled, a pout forming on her lips that made her look more like her mother. Javier chuckled, settling at her side. āDo you know how?ā she asked suddenly, a hopeful note in her voice Helena hadnāt heard in a while. Her chest constricted, watching the man smirk and roll up his sleeves.
āI absolutely know how to,ā he nodded with a theatrical gesture. āStep aside and observe.ā
Amas Veritas, dancing in Helenaās head as she watched Javier, fitting so well in her kitchen, flip pancakes in the air and making the young girl laugh. It had been a while since Emma had laughed like that, and for a moment she was her soft-voiced and shy 14-year-old again, who liked to look at the stars and sleep with her head on Helenaās lap.
But then her shoulders tensed, her whole position shifting, taking one step away from Javier to turn towards her mother, even though her eyes went past her. Helena knew, without having to turn right away, that something was terribly wrong.
āMom,ā Sophia came running in, breathless, and immediately clung to her arm, tugging harshly. āSomethingās wrong, mom,ā the panic in her voice settled in Helenaās bones, mixing with her own, and she was quick to push her daughter behind her back, stepping away from the door. āItās aunt Pheebs, sheāā
āItās not her,ā Emmaās voice was grave, so unfitting for a young woman, and she inched closer to her mother, too. Which left Javier at the stove, looking at the three of them with confusion and alarm. āItās him, itās the man of the lilacs.ā
āWhat?ā perplexed, Javier took a step forward, only to be stopped by Helenaās extended arm, while she pushed all three of them behind her just as Phoebe walked into the kitchen. Accompanied. āWhat the hellāā Javier exhaled, reaching for his belt.
āAgent PeƱa!ā James exclaimed, translucent as he came into the light. Javierās head started spinning as he stared at him, then at Phoebe Goode, her arm trapped in his vice grip made of fingers of smoke, then back at him. āLong time no see. Howās Laredo? I think Iām starting to feel homesick.ā
As James spoke, Helena had started stepping backwards, her gaze never leaving Phoebeāthe two sisters were looking at each other, guilt and fear and resolution in their gazes that no one but the younger girls could notice, the familiarity an ache on the palms of their hands as they held each othersā, keeping close, keeping behind their mother.
āHelena,ā Javier called, his gaze unwavering as he took hold of his gun. āYou said he was dead.ā
āYes,ā she nodded, and for a split second, Phoebeās eyes showed surprise.
āDoesnāt look like it,ā he retorted, and James scoffed.
āYouāve all spent weeks pretending Iām not hereāwell, almost all,ā he tilted his head, gaze settling onto Emma, and smiled. Helena pushed her daughter into her back, the girl hiding her face against her shoulder, clinging tighter onto her sisterās handāSophia held her chin high, squeezing back. āItās gotten boring.ā
āThen leave,ā in Phoebeās voice there was all the rage of the Goode women before her. But then James turned, his grip tighter on her arm, and Helena watched her sisterās legs tremble. āJust leave us alone,ā she pleaded, eyes widening.
āNo,ā James chuckled, pulling her closerāJavier could see the strain in the womanās shoulder, her face contorting in pain, and could not wrap his head around it. James Hawkins did not look real, or at least not real enough to hurt them. Still, he felt uneasy, even more so when he spoke again, his head lowered next to Phoebeās. āIām feeling very into sisters right now,ā his gaze flickered towards Helena, too, a grin taking over his pale face.
Javier wasnāt looking at her, but he felt Helena straighten her back, look at him, and then turn. He heard her whisper to her daughters, possibly holding them closer, to run into their auntsā room and be mindful of the salt. He heard two sets of steps backtrack, and watched Jamesā face shift into disappointment.
āOh, Lena, Lena, Lenaāyou really do take the fun out of anything, donāt you?ā he took one step forward, dragging Phoebe with himāthe woman cried weakly, trying and failing to escape his hold.
āHey,ā only now that the kids werenāt in the room did Javier lift his gunāalthough he was sure it would do nothing to stop the man, and his widened grin only confirmed it. āLet go of her.ā
āAnd you,ā James groaned, even as Javier placed himself between him and Helena, āyou never, ever learned when to just give up,ā the two men looked at each otherāJavierās gun lifting, Jamesā hand reaching out for him. āYou should let the adultsāā
Before the sentence was over, James screamed, letting go of Phoebe. Helena ignored Javierās surprised gasp in favour of her sister tumbling to the side, quick to reach her before she could even touch the floor.
The same floor where a star shimmered, catching the sunlight. Javier carried it with him everywhere he went, in remembrance of his father, the star-shaped badge heād lived by for ages before retiring. Javier did not believe in luck, good or bad that it was, but he did believe in reminders: of doing the right thing, always. Of never losing sight of who he was.
He picked it up right as James straightened, a hole in his near-invisible hand that echoed its shape. Without thinking, without considering, Javier held it up right as the other manāor whatever was left of himāscreamed in his direction, unintelligible words that probably wouldāve resounded like threats, had Javier been able to hear a single one.
Instead, he stared as the figure vanished, with one longer scream and a curse, the air darkening in front of his eyes and then dissipated into nothing, leaving him to look at the corridor that brought to the stairs, a ringing in his ears.
āItās okay, Pheebs,ā Helenaās voice slowly brought him back, words repeated soothingly as she still held her sister. āItās okay, itās alright,ā reassuring, in spite of her trembling voice. āI need you to call the aunts, Phoebe. I need you to tell them what happened. Can you do that?ā
āIām sorry,ā Phoebe was still saying, her eyes unfocused though she looked up to Helena.
āI know, I knowābut can you?ā Javier could almost see itānights spent with Helena reassuring her sister, hidden under thick blankets or on the rooftop of the house beneath a sky full of stars. āPlease, I need to go to the girls.ā
āOh, the girls,ā Phoebe exhaled, and released the grip on her arm. āOf course. Of course. Iām sorry.ā
Helena didnāt wait, though she lingered enough to rest a kiss to Phoebeās temple, before standing and walking out of the kitchen. It took Javier a moment to come to his senses, and then he went straight after her.
āWhat the hell was that?ā he asked, his mind still reeling, forgetting for a moment the effect he had on her. āWas that him? Did I kill him?ā
āYes, and noātechnically,ā Helena didnāt stop, heading for the stairs she used to sit on when she was a kid to spy on the aunts. āIt was his spirit, which you banished. But I told you, I killed him. And you can do whatever with this information after, but right nowāā
āHold on just a goddamn second, all right?ā Javier grabbed her arm, pulling her right back against him. A split second in which they looked each other in the eyes, and all that had happened the night before came back, all that had been left unsaid before hit them square in the chest, and in that split second, they couldāve almost forgotten all else. āWhat are you talking about? His spirit? I came here to bring in the bad guyāgenerally, thatās what I do, and now youāre telling me about spirits?ā
āIs that why you came here, Javier?ā she stood her ground, her arm still in his hold. āBe honest.ā
āHonesty,ā he scoffed. āI thought I didāand then you were here, and your letterāmaybe thatās what brought me here. Maybe it was you. And Iām all mixed-up about that.ā
Helena was looking at him with that storm still brewing in her eyes, and Javier felt his knees threaten to give out underneath him. His hand fell from her upper arm, down her elbow and wrist, brushing the palm of her hand. She took a slow breath in, lips trembling.
āThe reason youāre here and you donāt know why is because I sent for you,ā she said, quietly.
āI know whyāā
āYou donāt,ā she interrupted him. āWhen I was a little girl, I worked a spell so I would never fall in love. I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldnāt possibly exist,ā she shook her head, while his fingers wrapped around her limp hand. āBut you do.ā
āSo,ā he scoffed, āyouāre saying that what Iām feeling is just one of your spells?ā
āYes, itās not real,ā it sounded like it pained her to say, even though Javier knew she was telling the truth. Or at least thought she was. āAnd if you stay, I wouldnāt know if it was because of the spell, and you wouldnāt know if it was because I donāt want to go to prison.ā
āAll relationships have problems,ā he muttered, and she gave a small, unamused laugh.
āI thought I loved Frankie, but that was another spell too,ā for a split second, she held his hand back, squeezing her fingers around his to the point it hurt. āStill, you donāt want to know what happens if you stay. Weāre all cursed. You saw that,ā and just like that, she let go of him.
āCurses only have power when you believe in them, Helena, and I donāt,ā clenching his fists, Javier stepped back from her. āYou know what? I wished for you too.ā
Helena knew. Heād told her the night before, his lips etching each word onto her skin.
But she watched him go nevertheless, glad he managed to take the steps she couldnāt.
Helena was tired. She had been tired since lying on the floor next to her sister, watching as she was being consumed from inside. But all of that was over. Sheād stared at the letter from Laredo for days after that, keeping it stored with the other one written in her own hand that carried the mark of both her touch and his.
She did her best to not think of him. It was near impossible.
James Hawkinsā cause of death was accidental, read the letter. His body was identified by jewellery in the ashes of a body found in Laredo, right by his property. The same ring heād told her was in his car, the car sheād driven, the car sheād spilt belladonna in.
Sincerely, Javier PeƱa, special investigator.
āI donāt think youāll find him there, Lena,ā Phoebe said softly, when she caught her reading the letter once more. āBut somewhere else, perhaps.ā
For days, she let the words linger. Days turned into weeks turned into months, his absence like an emptiness into her chest. Sheād almost convinced herself it would pass. That, with time, that too would passājust another pain, just another absence. She could deal with it. She could.
And then Javier was there, in her backyard, or at least that was what she thought she was seeing, because it couldnāt be. How could he be there, when he was in her dreams just that night?
āWhat would you do, Pheebs?ā she whispered, her heart beating so loud she wouldnāt be surprised if everybody else could hear.
āWhat wouldnāt I do, for the right man?ā Phoebe whispered in return, gently pushing her forward with a wide smile. āThis is not the auntsā, this is the two of you.ā
All the while, Javier looked at them, standing perfectly still like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do, one of his hands half-raised as if in greeting but without waving, the other buried deep within his pocket. He looked at them, and watched Phoebe quickly lead the girls away even when they tried to run to him, and then Helena walk in his direction.
āA love that even time will lie down and be still for,ā he said as a way of greeting, once they were standing one in front of the other. āEver since I went back, time hasnāt felt real, because you werenāt there. And maybe you still believe itās for a spell you did as a child, or your auntsā faultāā
āHow do you know about the aunts?ā it was hard not to smile when he fidgeted like that.
āYour sister told me,ā he returned, softly. āYour sister called.ā
āAnd youāre here,ā she said, a half-step forward in his direction.
āIām here,ā he nodded, moving the hand out of his pocket and reaching for her tentatively. āIām here because I know this is real. No gimmick, justāā
āLove?ā she suggested, and the glint in her eyes reminded him of the moon itself.
āLove,ā he repeated, their fingers interlocking. āHelena, I mean all of it. Iāll even quit smokinā ifāā
She kissed him, plain and simple. Pulled his hands so that he was stumbling forward and caught his lips with hers, gentle, slow. She kissed him, and as Javier held her, he felt like heād finally gone home. She kissed him, and felt that empty space in her chest filling with the taste of coffee and tobacco.
Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Abstract:Ā Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Words: 12k
Content: original female character (helena goode); alternative universe, magic, death, ghosts, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of an abusive relationship, mildly suggestive language, inspo both from the movie and the book
A/N: it's still halloween, right? i'm sorry for the late late posting but, alas, shit happens. i hope you all enjoy this nevertheless <3
reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too
also on AO3 Ā - masterlist
He will hear my call a mile away. He will whistle my favorite song. He can ride a pony backwards. He can flip pancakes in the air. He'll be marvellously kind. And his favorite shape will be a star. And heāll have eyes like chocolate, worthy of honesty.
Helena Goode often thought about the petals blowing in the air after her Amas Veritas, her true love. Years had gone by since thenāsheād been just a kid, wishing on her true love, her perfect love. Thinking it could not existāfor how could it, when all those women came crying in her auntsā kitchen in the middle of the night? Sheād wished for what she thought could never come to her.
And then there had been Frankieāher love, definitely not perfect, but good, so good. And gone, gone forever, because she had loved him so much. Or so she had thoughtāmaybe that hadnāt been real, maybe there was no such thing as real love, contrary to what her sister said. After all her aunts had played a part in her marriage, and for so long after Frankieās death sheād tried to believe none of it had been real, so that it would hurt less. So that she would not die of a broken heart.
But, in spite of everything, in spite of her bitterness, in spite of her pain, in spite of the loss, she knew some things had been real. Like the coffee he made her in the morning before leaving for work, like the dinners she fixed before he came back, like the colour they picked to paint the walls of their house; like all the times sheād listened for his whistling as he came back from work; like his kisses, and like their two beautiful daughters; like the laughter during the day and the nights spent awake; like the normal life theyād began living, and the shop theyād dreamed of opening together that now belonged to her only.
Like the State Investigator who stood in front of her at the front door, asking after her sisterās boyfriend. A boyfriend she knew to be dead and buried right there in the backyard. Fuck, she kept thinking, looking at the man in front of herāhis eyebrows arched, lips parted under a neatly trimmed moustache, eyes dark as chocolate, andā
āIām sorry?ā she asked, clearing her throat. Dry throat. Sweaty palms. Tongue-tied.
āIs your sister home?ā She knew heād asked that already, and he was being mighty patient about it. āIād like to speak with her, maāam,ā and then, because she had not moved an inch, ānothing to worry about, really. Just routine questions.ā
āSure,ā again Helena cleared her throat, and willed her legs to move. She stepped back, opening the door fully so that she could let him through. āCome on in, Iāll go get her.ā
Fuck, fuck, fuck, over and over as the man nodded and stepped in, walking past her into the entranceāhe smelled of coffee and tobacco, of the desert he came from. Helena closed the door and wiped her hands down the front of her shirt, which she suddenly realised belonged to one of her daughters, with rhinestones adorning the front. Fuck.
āKitchen is just on your left, Iāll be right back.ā
Phoebe Goode was trying her best. Each night she dreamed about Jamesāhis eyes, old and clear, staring at herāand each morning she tried to stop carrying him with her, to forget he ever existed, even though she could still see him on her face, in the bruises around her eye, in the split lip on the point of healingāthanks to her sister salve, the one that smelled of roses. She was trying her best, ignoring the awful fact she felt him still, knowing that the deepest relationship with a man of her whole life was with a dead man.
So she wore blue for protection, and had asked Emma, her niece, to lock her cigarettes away, and tried to sit in silence to meditate and push him away, out of her mind, out of her life for good. She was even back at the house, where sheād sworn she would never go back, because it was safer, because of her sister.
Her sister, running up the stairs, out of breath, in a shirt that did not belong to her and a skirt that mustāve been older than her, so dishevelled-looking Phoebe felt her heart drop for a moment, figured the next words out of her mouth would be James, and honestly anything after that could be awful, because he was. Had been.
āThereās a cop. Agent. Someone,ā Helena was gasping, her voice an alarmed whisper. āHeās looking for you. And Jamesābut he asked for you.ā
āThatās fine, we can manage,ā perhaps the meditation was working, because even after hearing his name she could still think without panic closing her throat. āIāll tell him I havenāt seen him in days, and I came here because weāre done. And if he asks, youāll just sayāā she stopped, frowning at her sister as she shook her head. āWhat? Youāll just say youāve never seen him.ā
āHereās the thing,ā Helena reached for her chest, still shaking her head, still out of breath. Her head was spinning, and her heartāGod, her heartāfelt like it was about to explode. āI donāt think I can lie to him.ā
āOf course you can,ā Phoebe scoffedābut her sister was still having a hard time breathing, her eyes so wide she looked like a deer spooked half to death. āGet over yourself, Lena. Itās fine. Youāre just having a panic attack.ā
āI donāt think itās that. I justāthe way he looks at you,ā she inhaled sharply, a strangled noise scratching her throat and making her sound like a wounded animal, then exhaled, breath stuttering. āI canāt sit there and just lie to him. I know I canāt.ā
āYou have to, Lena,ā but her sisterās eyes darted around the attic, where Phoebe was staying in. She snapped her fingers in front of her face, making her recoil. āListen to me, you have to. We know nothing, nothing happened.ā
Helena and Phoebe had grown up knowing that something was real because they believed in it. That was what gave things powerāmagic, words, talismans. But what happened when two people believed two different things? How did the universe cope with that? Was James dead and buried in their backyard, under lilacs that were growing wildly out of season (girls in the neighbourhood had begun to whisper that if you kissed the boy you loved beneath the Goodeās lilacs heād be yours forever, whether he wanted to be or not), or was he back in Laredo, or off somewhere else, left behind by his girlfriend?
Javier PeƱa was wondering the same as he stood in the odd kitchen of an odd house, there on Magnolia Street.
There were no clocks and no mirrors, in that house, and the floors creaked anywhere but where he stepped; light came pouring in from big, wide windows, showing an even bigger garden with lilacs out of season and more flowers and plants that he could recognise or countārosemary and lavender, roses and daisies, carrots and an apple tree that reminded him strangely of home, but all seemed like a dream through the thick glass. Each piece of furniture inside seemed dusty, but when he ran his fingertip across the dark wooden surface of this table or that cabinet, no dust came awayāno need for polishing anything in there. It smelled of cherrywood. It smelled familiar.
It was a familiarity Javier had not been ready to faceāhe touched the pocket of his jacket, felt the paper tucked in there crinkle at the touch, and a moment later, as if summoned by thought alone, Helena Goode came back down the stairs, slightly more dishevelled looking than before.
Helena had clearly been in the kitchen when he first knocked. He knew because he could almost see it, like a ghost moving around the stove, stirring a pot that had since been turned off, its content left forgotten on the back burden. He knew because sheād called Hold on at the third rattle of his knuckles across the door, matter-of-factly, as if sheād been expecting him. The mere sound of her voice had thrown him for a loop, the patio under his feet shifting unsteadily, and he couldāve followed the sound there with his eyes closed.
He thought then he could be in troubleāand when sheād opened the door, heād known he would. Because heād looked into crystal clear pools of grey and begun drowning, down and down without anything he could do about it. His father had once told him that witches caught you like that: with a look. If you ever meet a woman like that, you run the other way, no matter what, for your own good. Thereās no cowardice in safety. But Javier had no intention of runningāheād rather drown, over and over, if it meant she looked at him like that a little longer.
She stood at the end of the stairs, perfectly still, with that ridiculous shirt with rhinestones across her chest and her dark hair down past her shoulder, brushing the sliver of uncovered skin at her waist. She was beautiful, Javier thought, so ridiculously beautiful he got a lump in his throat just looking at her. For a moment, before her Can I help you? at the door, heād almost forgotten the reason he was there. He almost forgot it again when he saw her shake her head at the end of the stairs, and had to touch the letter tucked next to his heart again.
āCan I get you anything?ā her voice sounded different as she strode into the kitchen. āMy sister will be right down. Coffee?ā she wasnāt looking at him, and Javier wished sheād just stop and turn to face him, if only to forget himself again in her eyes.
But Helena wouldnāt turn. She wouldnāt look at him. She woldnāt look at his face, and his neatly trimmed moustache, and his lovely dark eyes. She wouldnāt look at the lines on his face he was way too young to have, and the loneliness embedded in each of them she knew could be found in the silver strands of her hair, too. Helena figured he was not a man who hid things, just like he was not hiding the fact he was looking at herāshe could feel his eyes burning on the back of her head, and she couldnāt believe the way he was staring at her. Looking at her like that.
It was how dark his eyes were, the problem. The way he could make someoneāherāfeel seen from the inside out.
āCoffeeās fine,ā he said, forcing his gaze away. He looked outside, where in the distance, still filtered like a dream, he could see clouds gathering, a distant storm that seemed to have followed him there. Javierās father had taught him to predict exactly when a storm would hit just by the location of lightning, so that he could prepare the ranch in time to brace for it.
Heād never been very good at it. He thought that lightning, like love, was never ruled by logic. Accidents happened, and they always would.
He looked at Helena again, her back still to himāshe was watching the coffee brew, her arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously against her elbow. Javier looked at her and thought she was familiar to himāheād thought that ever since getting her letter, the one tucked next to his heart, but to see her there in front of him, flesh and bones and long hair and clear eyes, really settled it for him.
Heād heard about it happening to other menāhis friend Steve being one of them. Going about their business one minute and suddenly they found themselves without hope. They fell in love so hard they never got up off their knees again.
Heād never thought it would happen to him. Javier was all businessāhe always had been. It was his need to figure out the why of things, of people. Money, love, furyāthose were the motivations he found usually, in his line of work. James Hawkins fell in the money category, of that he was sure, with perhaps a sprinkle of fury in the shape of his ring marked on the bodies.
Javier had been looking for that ring at Hawkinsā placeāheād seen it in pictures, read it in descriptions, remembered it from the few times his path had trailed along Hawkinsā, because Laredo wasnāt that big of a place, and faces grew familiar over timeāwhen the letter had arrived.
Crumpled and torn in one corner, the flap already opened, Javier had looked at it and thought he shouldāve taken it directly to the office. But an open letter was hard to resist, even for someone like Javier, who had resisted a whole lot in his life. But that letter was something else, something tempting, and he gave into it.
He never regretted it.
He had just sat there, on the patio of the house of the man he was looking for, and read the letter Helena Goode had written to her sister. When he was done, heād read it again. And again. And twice more midair, and then while he had his lunch, and once more when heād settled in his hotel room. Even when the letter was folded back into its envelope and stored in the pocket of his jacket, the words came back to haunt himāwhole sentences written by Helena forming in his mind.
Javier had been close to people, and while he didnāt have that many friends he was contentāheād even almost gotten married after high school, although thatās a topic no one ever brought up, not even himself. But heād never once felt like heād known anyone the way he felt he knew the woman who had written that letter. It felt like someone had ripped a piece of his soul out of him and formed into words. Words he was so taken by he wouldnāt have heard, seen, or felt a thing as long as he was reading them.
I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm, or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen.
Javier wanted to tell her that he saw her. Right there in front of him, and even when she was not there, when he had not the faintest clue what she looked like, he saw her. He saw her standing, moving the coffee pot from the fire. He saw her pouring the coffee in three mismatched cups. He saw her hands shaking as she did so.
āAre you okay?ā he asked, and she recoiled as if startled by his voice.
āI think Iām going to sit down,ā Helena said, casually, as if she didnāt seem about to collapse.
Still she brought two of the cups over, almost spilling the contents of one, and collapsed onto the chair opposite Javi with a shuddering sigh, her cheeks flushed, her chest fluttering. She wondered if drinking coffee would be a good idea at that moment, still feeling as if her heart might explode, but needed something to keep herself busy, so she brought the cup to her mouth and gulped down the scalding drink, burning the roof of her mouth and her lips.
āWhy are you here?ā she asked then, bitterness coating her tongue. She was used to sugar in her coffee, most times a dash of milk. āI mean, I understood what you told meāabout Phoebeās boyfriendābut why here?ā
She saw the man hesitateāhe did not strike her as someone who hesitated in anything, but he was pondering her words and how to best respond to her, his lips shifting to draw in a breath, and then exhale. He reached for his jacketāhe still hadnāt taken that off, and with the movement it hugged his shoulders tight, seams pulling uncomfortablyāand, from one of the inner pockets, took a piece of paper that he handed to her.
āI mailed that to my sister ages ago,ā Helena recognised it immediatelyāthat letter she was so grateful had never reached Phoebe, but also wished it had a little earlier, so she wouldnāt be in that mess. Thereās a halo around the moon tonight. I think trouble is coming. I wish youād get out of there. Come back home. Alone. āYou opened it,ā she added then, a little baffled.
He hadnāt just opened it. Heād read it. The paper consumed from being folded over and over again, each line marked deeper where it bent, words slightly smudged as if someone had run their fingers over each and every of it.
āIt was opened already,ā he retorted, justifying. āIt must have gotten lost at the post office.ā
āBut you read it,ā the cup was burning her palm, the letter her other hand, her face was burning too under his gaze.
āMaybe a thousand times,ā Javier admitted, his voice dropping.
āIt was a very personal letter,ā she whispered too, feeling the tightness inside her throat and belly and chest grow, and grow, and grow until it was choking her. That had to be what a heart attack felt like. Perhaps she was about to end up on the floor unconscious.
āI know,ā the man said, and at last she looked at him.
He saw her but, Javier knew, she saw him too. She couldāve seen how Javier wasnāt sure how far heād go to cover for someoneāheād never been in that position before, and he despised the way it felt. But he was there, sitting in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, a total stranger on a humid day, wondering if he was going to look the other way because of her. She could see all thatāor at least, she hoped.
And then Phoebe came down. Noisy steps down the stairs, announcing her presence to the entire worldāshe always had that about her, always managed to bring the attention to her, with her lovely strawberry-blonde hair and her long lashes and full lips. Even with the bruises, even with the wounds, even with her fear embedded so deeply into her skin it was painful, Phoebe was beautiful.
Still, Javier focused on Helena, and it wasnāt until her sister stood at her side that he caught a glimpse of her. Night and day, thatās what the aunts called them. He didnāt know, but he wouldāve agreedāso starkly different, yet seemingly in tune with each other.
āAs Iāve said your sister, I wonāt take up much of your time,ā Javier cleared his throat, offered his hand to Phoebe as he stood. He missed the feeling of his letter against his body, but Helena was clutching it tight, pressing it against her stomach. āItās just a couple of questions, routine checks.ā
āOf courseāagent, is it?ā Phoebeās voice was soft where Helenaās was strong. She took up space just by standing, her arms folded in front of her as she held the third cup that had been on the counter.
āYes, maāamāAgent PeƱa.ā Only then did she take his hand, a delicate shake before turning his palm up towards her face, peering down with an interested hum.
āYouāve come a long way just for a couple of routine questions, Agent PeƱa.ā Her thumb ran along one of the lines on his palm, tracing it with a feather-like touch. Her brows knitted for a moment, confusion locking on her features (eyes darting towards her sister) before she shook herself. āI see here itāll be worth the trip,ā she mused, tapping his palm.
āRight.ā Again he cleared his throat, and pulled his hand back. āWhen was the last time you saw James Hawkins?ā
āAh, a man of action,ā Phoebe scoffed lightly, then shrugged. āCouple of weeks, just before I came here. It just wasnāt working anymore.ā
āIs he responsible for that?ā he asked, gesturing towards her face, the bruises.
āAs Iāve said, it wasnāt working anymore,ā she tipped her chin up, leaned with her hip against Helenaās chair. āI have no idea where he might be. If a man hits me, he only does it once,ā Helenaās breath hitched, her grip on both the cup and letter tightening.
āWhat about the car? The one with the Texas plateāitās registered in his name,ā Javier thought he might as well reveal all his cards from the beginning. Neither sister was stupid, but still Phoebe was lyingāhe knew she was. He had seen that look before, countless times: people who are guilty of something think they can hide it by not looking at you. Or looking at you too much.
Helena wasnāt looking at him anymoreāagain. Phoebe was staring him down. But Helena wasnāt looking at him, because she knew, she was certain, that could not lie to the man. She feared her eyes would betray her too, like her heart was doing, like she imagined her words would if she were to say anything more.
āI took it when I ran,ā Phoebe said, sighing. āAnd I know thatās wrong, so you may take it right awayāI just needed a way out. That was the fastest.ā
She was good, Javier managed to think in that haze-like feeling heād found himself in since heād walked into the house. Since heād seen Helena. Her eyes.
āAnd you have not heard from him since?ā Phoebe shook her head, sipping on her coffee and grimacingātoo bitter, too strong. But it helped keep her mind away from the times she had heard from Jamesāin her dreams, nightmares, really; or when she was distracted, and his voice crept into her head; or when she looked in the mirror and his reflection stared back.
āI have not,ā she smacked her lips, the taste of the coffee lingering on the tip of her tongue.
āAlright, well,ā Javier picked his cup and drank most of the coffee that remainedāhe liked it that way, black and strong, it reminded him of his fatherāthen went to the sink to rinse the cup. Helena watched him while his back was turned, and almost smiled at the way he let the water slosh from side to side enough to get any residue off before settling it upside down. āIf anything comes to mind, Iāll be around a couple of days longerāIām staying at the Hide-A-Way Motel.ā
āReally?ā was the first thing Helena said in what felt like ages. Javier turned aroundāhe was just stalling then. He wanted to remain there, with her. He wanted to keep on looking into Helenaās eyes and drown, drown, drown for days. He saw nothing else but her eyes.
āLady at the car rental desk suggested itāit isnāt half bad,ā he shrugged, and smoothed his jacket down. He felt the absence of the letter when he ran his hand across his chest, and the paper did not crinkle under his touch. Helena curled her fingers around her words. āNice area.ā
āIt is,ā she should knowāher shop was one street away from the motel. Sheād picked the area with Frankie because of how nice it was, close enough to the park it gave the impression of being around nature, but not so far from town that nobody would walk by the shop.
Phoebe watched the agent and her sister look at each other and frownedāfor a moment, what sheād seen on PeƱaās palm flashed before her eyes again. A new beginning, a line cut through by something, someone he could not escape. It had been written on his skin since the beginning. Some fates were just guaranteed.
āIf I happen to remember anything else, Iāll come around,ā Phoebe said, cutting through the crackle of energy that passed from one to the other. It was as if sheād woken them up from a dream, a dream made of only looks and silence. āYou can have the car taken away.ā
āGreat,ā he cleared his throat, and forced himself to back away. He knew that if he lingered any longer, heād never want to leave. It was hard enough already. āThanks.ā
Helena felt like she was losing her mind.
The night before, a ring had appeared around the moon. A halo around the moon was always a sign of disruptionābut it was a double ring, all tangled up, anything could happen. Helena didnāt like the thought, and she hadnāt been able to sleep all night.
The sparrow that used to fly each midsummerās eve into the house on Magnolia Street had come back, out of season, round and round the dining roomāher daughters had counted each circle: three. Three meant trouble, it always had. Sheād chased it out with her sister, both of them on edge.
And it rained. All night and through the morning, one of her daughters standing by the window looking at the lilacs being hit by drop after drop, tapping her fingers nervously. Emma was looking at the man in their backyard, who stared back at them like from a vision, a nightmare rather than a dream. She was hoping he would go away, but the bad weather did not bother himāhe seemed to relish in the black skies and the wild wind, and the rain passed through him. Emma thoughtāshe knewāit was his fault that things were going amiss in the house, even though she didnāt know the extent of it: pipes rusting and the tile floor of the basement turning to dust, nothing in the refrigerator would stay fresh.
Both sets of sisters fought, loud and mean and just like he wanted them to. Emma wouldāve liked them all to stop. Helena thought of chopping the lilacs all night long, but had to go to work.
And then there was Javier. Agent PeƱa, who walked around town and talked to everyone and was always there when she turned around from the counter. Javier, with a cigarette hanging from his lips at every street corner. Always there, always there, always there.
āFuck!ā Helena exclaimed, when the jar she was trying to place on the shelf fell and shattered on the ground, shards of glass flying around her ankles and the contentsācurled dried leavesāspilling across the clean floor. āGod, give me a break.ā
āAre you okay, Lena?ā a voice called from the other side of the shop. Helena didnāt have many friendsāit came with the Goode name, being shunned away. But Crystal was one of the few who did not shy away, besides being a good employee. āLet me help you.ā
āItās alright, I just havenāt been sleeping well,ā she went to gather the glass and leaves, both crunching as she moved the broom across them. āBut could you put the kettle on? Maybe some tea will do me good,ā even though she craved coffee desperately.
Sheād craved coffee ever since sheād met with the agent. Black and bitter. She could smell it in the air around her, no matter which room she walked in, or which streetāalong with tobacco and more. Sheād never smoked a cigarette in her life but now felt her fingers itch as if reaching for one.
Crystal obliged without questionāsheād learned early on that many things around Helena Goode just did not make sense, and there was no point in prying. It had been that way since they were children. Her mother liked the Goode aunts, said that it was not their fault for more than two hundred years their family had been blamed for everything that went wrong in town.
Some people are just different. Most people are just stupid to be afraid of it.
She remembered their classmates being terrified of the day a bunch of cats followed Helena to schoolāwitchery, they called it. A witch and her familiars. Nasty, nasty creatures, the whole lot of them. But Crystal remembered Helena being kind and poised, she remembered her balanced lunches, and the way she always looked out for her sister. She still did. Why people would think Helena and Phoebe had any evil in them escaped her.
Goode women ignored convention; they were headstrong and willful, and meant to be that way.
āThank you, Crystal,ā Helena said from the kitchenette, throwing away the spoiled merchandise..
āAre you sure you wouldnāt rather go home? I can look after the shop,ā but even as she asked, Helena was shaking her head, lips trembling with her deep inhale. āLena, did something happen?ā
āItās notāā a bell. The shopās bell. Helena looked up from her mug, the smell of lavender easing her headache a little, and then turned. āIāll get it.ā
He was everywhere, always there, always there, in her shop, too. Helena stood frozen next to the counter and looked at the agent who was looking aroundāa feeble attempt at not immediately turning towards her, not falling into her eyes right away.
āYes?ā she managed to ask, her throat dry once again. Just by his mere presence.
āIām afraid I forgot to bring enough toothpaste,ā Javier lied. Heād thrown an almost full tube in the bin just that morningāstill wasnāt sure why. Maybe because so many people had told him about Helenaās shop, just around the corner. How the woman was the way she was, but her products were amazing.
āYou couldāve gone to the market,ā she said, but placed her mug down and moved to the shelf anyway. Once she wasnāt looking at him, she managed to exhale again, but still his eyes burned on the back of her head, and she suddenly felt conscious of the fact she probably had forgotten to brush her hair in the morning.
āYes,ā he retorted, and didnāt add anything else. He knew he couldāve, but he didnāt want to. And he couldāve told her it was because so many people had recommended her stuff, or because the shop was closer to his motel. But he didnāt.
āAny allergies?ā she asked, moving the stool closer to the shelf.
āNo, maāam.ā She paused, one foot up the step as she bit her tongueājust a moment, then she climbed and grabbed a jar, the label scribbled so hurriedly it was unreadable, the dark paste inside a stark contrast with the white paper.
āCharcoalāwhitens the teeth,ā she moved back down, the counter between them as she handed the product to himāher eyes flickered towards the cigarette that heād tucked over his ear, shaking her head lightly. āNasty habit,ā she muttered, lowering her gaze.
āIām aware,ā Javier chuckledāas he took the jar, he grazed her fingers. Helena pulled back as if sheād been burned, fingertips curling into her palm and pressing harshly. āDoes this stuff actually work?ā he cleared his throat, turning it in his palm to glance at the label again.
He knew her handwriting. He could read it like the back of his hand. I have this dream of being whole.
āIt does,ā Crystal called as she walked in from the kitchenette, and Helena leaned over the counter and reached for her mugāanything to keep her hands busy. āSee for yourself. On the house.ā
āHe canāt accept it on the house, Crystal,ā she said, moving back. āThereās an investigation ongoingāisnāt that right?ā it looked as if she might turn to him while she addressed him, but didnāt. Again.
āThatās right,ā Javier cleared his throat, shuffling a little. He was so close to the counter he could feel the edge of it dig into his stomach, and forced himself to look at the other woman. āBut are you giving me your word? That it works.ā
He was a charmer. Helena knew alreadyāCrystal was just finding out. She wanted to ask what investigation Helena was talking about, what was happening at the house on Magnolia Street that she desperately did not want to go back, and what was happening with the agent so desperately trying to meet her eyes.
āCross my heart,ā she said instead, because she knew this would be another inexplicable moment. Sheād made her peace with it. āSwear to God, this woman is a magician. Let me ring you up.ā
Helena hid her face with the mug, the dwindling steam turning her cheeks a soft shade of red. At the same time, Javier scoffed lightly.
āRight,ā he muttered, reaching for his wallet. āHeard that one before. Thanks.ā
It took a moment for Helena to register his wordsāshe was trying so hard to not hear him, to not focus on him, that she didnāt understand what he was saying until he was out of the door, an echo of the bell ringing in her mind.
āWait, what?ā she placed the mug down, looking up at his back behind the glass. āHold on.ā
She shouldnāt have gone after him. She shouldāve known better. Helena spent her whole life being vigilant, she spent her whole life relying on logic and common sense, sheād taken care of everything from the moment her parents had died, and then again when Frankie had diedāshe thought about everything.
She had to, because otherwise how would her kids have made it to fourteen and fifteen?
She had to, because if she stopped thinking about everything, what exactly was she left with? Her thoughts and worries are the only reason she continued to exist, of that she was certain.
Never look back, never change direction, thatās what she had to tell herself. Donāt think about being alone in the dark, or storms or lightning and thunder, or the true love you wonāt ever have. Life, she knew, was brushing her teeth and making breakfast for her kids and not letting her mind wander.
But that was a lieāfrom the beginning Helena had been lying to herself, telling herself she could handle anything: her parents dying, her sister relying on her, her auntsā reputation, Frankie, Frankieās death, the spell, the year where everything went grey, her children, and now this. Sheād grown tiredāshe didnāt want to lie anymore. One more lie and sheād be lost. One more lie and sheād never find her way back through the woods.
And itās all because of him.
āWhat did you mean?ā she stopped abruptly when he did, taking a step back when he turned to look at her. She tugged her cardigan close, the wind whipping the ends around along with her hair, and tipped her chin up with her arms crossed, finally, finally looking back at him. āHeard that one before?ā she echoed. āIs that why you were at my shop?ā
āNo,ā he shook his head. āItās because I needed toothpaste, and Iām just around the corner,ā she scoffed lightly, shuffling her feet. āBut actually, yes, I heard a bunch of stuff that doesnāt make sense at all, so Iād like to understand.ā
āWhy?ā
āBecause itās my job,ā he retorted. āBecause, seriously, I have heard it all. A family of witches, a curse, your own husbandāā
āDonāt,ā she snapped, and for a moment Javier recoiled, saw the truth in the words of all the people who had warned him off Helena Goode. With her hair dancing in the wind, and her cheeks still red, and her eyes oh-so-clear, like a storm incoming, he understood. āDo not bring Frankie into this.ā
āHard not to, when itās everything this town talks about,ā he took a step forward, her whole body seizing up. āDo you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? People tell me youāre here cooking up placenta bars, that youāre into devil worship.ā
āYou think I donāt know that?ā her voice was lower, and pulled him closer. āAll my life, this townāI know what they say about me, I know what everybody thinks.ā She wanted to move awayāshe wanted to lean in. She remained still. āAll my life I wanted nothing more than to be seen as normal, but thatās just not the way it is. I donāt have a ranch house or a white picket fence, I donāt have a husband thatās alive anymore, I donāt haveāā she cut herself off, unsure as to why she was so ready to pour her heart out to a stranger in the middle of the street. āI donāt see how thatās my fault.ā
āI never said it was,ā Javier spoke softly, a gentleness that felt foreign on his tongue but rolled off easily when he looked at her.
āThen why are you here?ā her chin was still up, but she was looking down at her nose, careful to avoid his gazeāit made him believe that she, too, felt that tug in the pit of her stomach. She was just better at controlling it.
Your letter, he almost said. You.
āJames Hawkins,ā he replied instead. āA guy like that doesnāt simply vanish.ā
āAnd would that be such a big loss?ā she scoffed, tightening her arms around herself. āA guy like thatāwouldnāt it be so much better if he did just vanish?ā
āMaybe,ā he shrugged, and felt his hands move before he could control himself. āBut I made a vow, and I have a jobāā his fingertips grazed her arm, and at that she pulled back.
āAs do I,ā one hand moved to the point heād brushed, holding the spot as if it hurt, tight against her chest. āSo unless you have something you want to ask me, Agent PeƱa, Iād rather get back to it.ā
āAre you or your sister hiding James Hawkins?ā
āHeās not here, no.ā
āDid you or your sister kill James Hawkins?ā he asked, and her eyebrows arched.
āOh, yeah. Couple of times,ā Javier sighed, and forced himself back, his hand now itching for his cigarette. āIs that all?ā he put it between his lips, ignoring the frown forming on her brow.
āYeah, sure,ā he didnāt light it up just yet, but reached for the lighter neverthelessāhe missed the letter in his pocket whenever he touched it. āBye, Helena.ā
He watched her go back inside the shop with her shoulders pulled back tight, steps unsteady, and only when the door was closed, the echo of the bell ringing in his ears, did he light up the cigarette.
She watched him go away from inside the shop, with his steps matching the thundering of her heart.
āWhat is wrong with you?ā Phoebe watched her sister kneel on the ground, pruning shears in hand and purple flowers all around her, on her. āWhat are you doing?ā
āIām tired of seeing these every time I look out of the window,ā her breath was shortāthe flowers seemed endless, she cut and cut and cut and still they were there. āAnd the smellāI hate it. I canāt do it anymore.ā
āLenaāLena! Itās just flowers!ā although Phoebe knew it was not entirely true. Mostly, she ignored the lilacs, and everything that was underneath it. Especially what was underneath it. āStop it, before you hurt yourself.ā
āOh, now youāre thinking about that?ā Helena dropped the shears and stood, the soil on her jeans already a stain she wouldnāt manage to remove. āNow that thereās a cop after us? Now you think I might hurt myself?ā
āSo what? We stick to our story. No body, no crime,ā she gestured towards the lilacs. āThere is not a single reason why he should think weāve done something, unless you give him one.ā
āBut we did, Phoebe. You understand that, donāt you?ā she hissed, walking up to her sister. āWe fucked up, and somehow Iām still the one whoās cleaning up your messes,ā Phoebeās eyes widened, mouth set in a thin line. āIām sick of this.ā
āI never asked you to, I neverāā
āEnough lies, Pheebs. Arenāt you tired?ā Helena smelled like the lilacs, and her headache was back, stronger and stronger as the storm approached from the horizon. āI know I am. Iām so tired of lying.ā
āWhat are you talking about?ā Phoebe had lowered her voice, and was looking at her sister as if she could not recognise her. āLenaāyou canāt do that,ā even as she said it, Helena walked past her, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans. āYou canāt go to him,ā she said, following her. āWeāll both be sitting in jail if you do. What about the girls? Why are you even thinking about it now?ā
Helena wasnāt sure why. She knew sheād woken up smelling cigarettes and coffee again, and the lilacs, and the nightmare still clinging to her eyelids, making her feel unrested as she had for the past days. Weeks. She wasnāt sure anymore. All she knew is that her throat hurt from all the lies sheād told Javier, and she wanted to come clean, to tell allāshe wanted someone to listen to what she had to say and really hear her, the way no one ever had before. So sheād gone to work, and back home to cut the flowers, and as sundown approached she would go out for Javier.
āDonāt tell me about the girls now, when I spent half my life thinking only about them,ā she said loudly, marching in and out of room after room of the house, grabbing things she wasnāt even sure she needed. āAnd you? You only ever thought about yourself. You left me here. You lived your life. And you dragged me back in just to save your ass.ā
āOh, thatās it, isnāt it?ā Phoebe screamed too, from the middle of the house, following the noises of her sister as she stomped around. āI lived my life and you hate me for it!ā
āI donāt hate you, Phoebe.ā
āNo, no, sureāyouāre unbelievable. You spent all your life trying to be normal and fit in, but you never will! You know weāre different, and so are your girls,ā Helena stopped abruptly to look at her.
āThatās twice nowāyou leave them out of this,ā she said with a scowl so similar to that of their motherās, if only either of them could remember her.
āAll my life Iāve wished I had half your talentāyouāre wasting yourself, Lena,ā Phoebe cried, and for a moment she sounded just like the little girl who had just gotten to the auntsā house. āAnd now youāwhat? Youāre gonna turn yourself in? Or get down on your knees and beg for mercy?ā
āIf Iāll have to, yes,ā Helena said without a second thought, fixing her sister with a look. āIām done.ā
They both measured themselves harshly, always had, as if they had never been anything but those two plain little girls, waiting at the airport for someone to claim them.
If you go against what you believe in, youāre nothing. That was another thing his father liked to sayāand Javier knew he was right. So he was going to stick to his plan: fly back home and give up the case to the poor bastard who was supposed to get it from the beginning, had it not been for the letter. He was going to go back to work as usual, forget about the whole ordeal, forget about grey eyes and dark hair and his own heart.
Heart, heart, heart beating to the sound of the knocking on his door, that for a moment heād thought to be rain pattering on the ground and the roof, such the strength of the storm was. But he heard it, and when he opened the door, Helena was there, shivering and looking up at him.
āYou want a confession?ā
In his line of work, Javier had been trained to notice things, but he couldnāt quite believe what he was seeing. Part of the reason was that heād been imagining Helena everywhere he went. So maybe it was just an illusion, a desire of his heart turned into a vision.
āWhat?ā he stepped aside and, water falling from her hair, Helena walked in, trailing mud behind.
āYou want a confession, donāt you? Itās why youāre still here,ā she was shaking, arms crossed over her chest with wet clothes clinging to her. āWe killed James. Technically, I killed James. I used belladonna.ā
āI know,ā Helena frowned, moved the hair out of her face with trembling hands.
āYou know?ā she sniffled, part from the cold part from the smell attacking her nostrilsācoffee and tobacco and, surprisingly, food.
āI found some in the carāsaw the same thing in your shop and had it analyzed,ā he closed the door, careful to not turn the lock, leaving her a way out as he moved back towards the kitchenette. āHis ring was in there, too. There was blood on it. Have you had any dinner?ā
āIāwhat is this, some sort of joke?ā she asked, slightly out of breath, and stepped in his direction. Javier scoffed, his back to her as he shook his head a little.
āFar from it,ā he muttered, turning the stove off. Still, he didnāt move to look at herāif he did, he wouldnāt be able to say what he had to. He could feel her shiver, just a few steps from him, and it took everything in him to not reach over and grab her and hold her close. āBut I have no idea what to do from here. I canāt say that Iām sorry Hawkins is gone, and I canātāā
āJavierāā he exhaledāit was the first time she said his name, and he gripped the counter with both hands as he closed his eyes. Through the rain, and the soil, and the smoke in his room, he could smell lilacs and that same scent that had clung to the letter, which had bled onto his fingers each time he reread it.
āI was gonna turn over the case,ā she held her breath at his wordsāhe heard the light hiccup as her lips sealed, and slowly turned, though his gaze remained lowered. āI canāt say Iām impartial anymoreāI can pretend, but Iām not. I no longer can tell whatās right and whatās wrong and youāyou came here, and what did you think would happen?ā
āI donāt know,ā her voice was small, and Javier knew she was looking at himāthe roles had switched, he could feel her gaze burning across his skin. āThatās the thing, I donāt know. Iām tiredāof lying, of hiding, of those fucking flowers,ā she sniffled, and from the corner of his eyes he could see her rubbing her arms. āThe thing is, Iām pretty sure itās because of you, and I canāt stand itābecause I know Iāll get hurt, and my sister will get hurt, and my children, too.ā
āThen why,ā his voice had dropped slightly, and he took one more step forward, looking up at lastāthey were standing so close now, heat radiating off of him and clinging to her chilling bones, āare you here, Helena?ā
āI donāt know,ā she whispered, her hands seeking him before she could even realise. āMaybe this,ā her letter was almost destroyed, wet and crumpled as she held it between them.
Fear or lonelinessāshe wasnāt sure she could distinguish them anymore. When the deathwatch beetle had started ticking for Frankie, then sheād been afraid. When sheād stopped speaking and seeing colours for a year, and her children had been by themselves, then sheād been afraid. When she was young, and she sneaked down the stairs with her sister to see what the aunts where up to, then sheād been afraid. In that moment, she was terrified.
And lonely. Sheād never felt more alone or lonely before in her life. She wished she couldāve believed in loveās salvation, but truth was desire had been ruined for her. She wished sheād never spied on the auntsā and seen their customers crying and begging and making fools of themselves. Sheād become love-resistant because of that and, with her sister, sitting on the roof of the house, theyād wished to look up at the stars and not be afraid of it.
But, just like trouble, love came in unannounced and took over before sheād had a chance to reconsider or even think about itāFrankie first, and nowā
Amas Veritasāshe thought about it again, looking into Javierās dark eyes. He will hear my call a mile awayāsheād been just a child, so stupid, thinking that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, to play with. But real love, sheād learned, she was learning, was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didnāt let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.
Sheād learned that with Frankie, and nowā
āOh, donāt,ā she whispered when Javierās hand brushed along her arms, foregoing the letterāand moved closer to him, pulled by gravity, by forces she couldnāt begin to control. āJaviāā
He believed he was going to cryābecause she was saying his name again, soft and gentle and like sheād known it all her life, and his hands were tracing a path up her arms like he knew exactly the shape of her, and trying to learn it by memory all over again.
He wasnāt even sure that was not the case. Perhaps a part of him knew her already, always had.
He had stumbled into love, of that he was certain, and was stuck there. Javier was used to not getting what he wanted, heād learned to deal with it, but with Helena in front of him he couldnāt help but wonder if that had only been because heād never wanted anything too badly. He did now.
āI just do this,ā he said, voice sad and deep and causing the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on edge as he leaned closer, towards the hand she was offering to him like in prayer, and she brushed his cheek as he sighed. āPay no attention,ā he said, but she did. How could she not?
He was there, and she shifted toward him as if to brush her hand along his face, but instead ended up with her arms looped around his neck, his own wrapped around her, holding her closer.
And Helena was terrified, because suddenly she wanted whatever he was promising her, with his lips so close and words so soft she told herself donāt listen, but she couldnāt, because whispers of Iāve been looking for you forever inched their way underneath her skin, warmed by his hands. She wanted to get lostāshe, who couldnāt function without directions, needed it. Him.
Everything she did those days was so unlike her usual self that when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind Javierās shoulder, she couldnāt recognise herself. Looking back at her was a woman who couldāve fallen in love if sheād let herself, a woman who didnāt stop, not even when Javier moved her hair from her neck, the wet locks sending a shiver down her spine that only intensified as the man bowed his head a pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat.
What good would it do her to get involved with someone like him? She wonderedābecause the last time she did, she loved so much she got hurt to the point a part of her had forever vanished. Or so she had thought, because with Javierās lips brushing her skin, the light tickle from his moustache making her eyelids droop, she couldāve believed something had come back alive behind her ribs. She suddenly felt like she had to press a hand down against her chest to make sure her heart wouldnāt escape her body.
āHelenaāā he whispered, his arms tight around herāthe droplets of rain clung to his lips, the taste of her flooding his senses, overpowering everything else. She sighed again, a shudder running down her spine, unsure if it was from his voice or the cold settling in her bones.
Although, if she were to be honest with herself, sheād say she wasnāt cold. She was burning, really, Javierās body so close she could memorise it by touch alone.
āMaybe Iām letting you do this so youāll stop the investigation, even with my confession,ā she said, his head straighteningāhis nose brushed along her jaw, her cheek, and her eyes remained closed. āHave you thought about that? Maybe Iām so desperate Iād fuck anyone, including you.ā
There was a sour taste in her mouth with each cruel word, but she didnāt careāshe forced herself to open her eyes, she knew she needed to see the wounded look on his face with each bitter word. She needed to stop itāwhatever it wasābefore she no longer had the option to. Before the freedom she had longed for forever slipped through her fingers, and she was trapped again in pain, just like the women who used to come at the auntsā back door.
āHelena,ā Javier said again, mournful, and she could almost taste her own name falling from his lips. The tobacco, too. Her mouth parted on instinct, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw down towards her chin, brushing her bottom lip. āYouāre not like that.ā
āReally?ā she scoffed lightly, the noise remaining trapped in her throat when she lifted her gaze to his eyes. āYou donāt know me. You just think you do.ā
āThatās right,ā he nodded, and the tip of his nose brushed hersāone tilt of his chin, one tip of her head, and the agony would be over for both of them. But for the moment they were just suspended in time. āI think I do. I do.ā
āLet go,ā she told Javier, and it sounded almost like a plea. āLet go of me.ā
He did. He wouldāve done anything she asked of him. Let go, hold tighter, kneel, jump into a fire. All of it. So he let go of her, even if it hurt, both of them taking one step backāher arms immediately wrapped around her middle (an attempt to trap his warmth close to her skin), his hands tingling with the loss of her.
āHelenaāā he said once more, her name more and more familiar on his tongue.
āYou have your confession, and you have your proof,ā each word felt like shreds of glass in her throat, while she looked away forcefullyāin the window, her reflection was almost familiar again, still a little wild, but recognisable. āItās up to you. You know where to find me, once you make a decision.ā
āI do,ā he repeated, somewhat stunned, his mind reeling. She took one step to the side, heading for the door. āItās still pouring outside.ā
āI know,ā she only said, and went nevertheless.
For hours her perfume remained in the room, clinging to him for so long he didnāt even notice the smell of his burned dinner. So long the letter had dried on the floor where it had slipped, enough for him to reread it, again and again until heād managed to fall asleep.
Helena couldnāt stop thinking about Javier. From the moment sheād walked out of the motel room, he had been all she could think aboutāon the drive home through the storm, in the warm bath to wash the cold away, doing the dishes, in bed, unable to sleep, dreaming about him while wide awake and in the few hours sheād managed to close her eyes, too. Haunted, just like her sister.
She dreamed of the desert, an apple tree in a yard that wasnāt hers and bloomed without water, and horses that ate apples from that tree and ran faster than all the others, and a man who was taking a bite from a pie sheād made, bound to be hers for life. Sheād woken up smelling apple pie and cinnamon, coffee and tobacco.
So it was no surprise when Javier showed up that same morning. She almost heard him coming. Yet she couldnāt face him right away, so she hid inside, behind her sister, still skittish, behind her daughters, still confused, behind the pretence of making breakfast.
āHeās staying!ā Sophia, the eldest of her daughters, announced, running from the garden to somewhere past the living roomāHelena sighed, eyes closing. āAunt Pheebs! He says heās staying!ā
Helena wondered if, without the feeling of Javierās hands still on her, she wouldāve wondered why Phoebe would care whether or not the man investigating them was staying at their place for breakfast. She wasnāt even sure whether she was glad he was staying or just nauseated.
āCan I help?ā Emma, much quieter than her sister, stepped at her motherās side and pointed at the stove, a half-burned pancake smoking on the pan. Helena threw the failed attempt away and nodded, forcing a smile onto her faceāshe knew the man was in the room with them, she could feel him watching the two of them from the entrance, could see him in her mind as he leaned against the doorway.
āBe careful,ā she murmured, taking one step aside, then another, and more, her own steps echoed by Javierās. They met halfway across the kitchen, her still not looking at him while his eyes never once left her.
āāMorning,ā he hummed, shoulders brushingāHelena moved aside, ignoring the sharp pain in her hip when she bumped into the table.
āGood morning,ā she cleared her throat, brushing her hands down the front of her shirtāand then lowered her voice. āWhy are you here?ā
āYou told me I knew where to find you once Iād made my decision,ā he replied, matching her tone.
āAnd have you?ā her hands began going numb as she clenched them in fists at her sides. She could still feel Javier looking at her.
āIām going back to Laredo,ā her gaze snapped in his direction, so fast the whole room spun as she inhaled sharply, holding her breath. āI thought you should have this. After all, it belongs to you.ā
It took her a moment to manage to focus on the paper he was handing herāher letter, now ruined, a half-destroyed piece of paper sheād poured her heart over, more than once. When she picked it up, their fingers brushed just like the first time, and Helena almost cried out in pain.
āNow, something smells like itās burning,ā she could see the strain in his neck as he turned away from her, looking at Emma. One more moment and then he walked ahead. āNeed a hand?ā
āI was trying to flip it,ā Emma mumbled, a pout forming on her lips that made her look more like her mother. Javier chuckled, settling at her side. āDo you know how?ā she asked suddenly, a hopeful note in her voice Helena hadnāt heard in a while. Her chest constricted, watching the man smirk and roll up his sleeves.
āI absolutely know how to,ā he nodded with a theatrical gesture. āStep aside and observe.ā
Amas Veritas, dancing in Helenaās head as she watched Javier, fitting so well in her kitchen, flip pancakes in the air and making the young girl laugh. It had been a while since Emma had laughed like that, and for a moment she was her soft-voiced and shy 14-year-old again, who liked to look at the stars and sleep with her head on Helenaās lap.
But then her shoulders tensed, her whole position shifting, taking one step away from Javier to turn towards her mother, even though her eyes went past her. Helena knew, without having to turn right away, that something was terribly wrong.
āMom,ā Sophia came running in, breathless, and immediately clung to her arm, tugging harshly. āSomethingās wrong, mom,ā the panic in her voice settled in Helenaās bones, mixing with her own, and she was quick to push her daughter behind her back, stepping away from the door. āItās aunt Pheebs, sheāā
āItās not her,ā Emmaās voice was grave, so unfitting for a young woman, and she inched closer to her mother, too. Which left Javier at the stove, looking at the three of them with confusion and alarm. āItās him, itās the man of the lilacs.ā
āWhat?ā perplexed, Javier took a step forward, only to be stopped by Helenaās extended arm, while she pushed all three of them behind her just as Phoebe walked into the kitchen. Accompanied. āWhat the hellāā Javier exhaled, reaching for his belt.
āAgent PeƱa!ā James exclaimed, translucent as he came into the light. Javierās head started spinning as he stared at him, then at Phoebe Goode, her arm trapped in his vice grip made of fingers of smoke, then back at him. āLong time no see. Howās Laredo? I think Iām starting to feel homesick.ā
As James spoke, Helena had started stepping backwards, her gaze never leaving Phoebeāthe two sisters were looking at each other, guilt and fear and resolution in their gazes that no one but the younger girls could notice, the familiarity an ache on the palms of their hands as they held each othersā, keeping close, keeping behind their mother.
āHelena,ā Javier called, his gaze unwavering as he took hold of his gun. āYou said he was dead.ā
āYes,ā she nodded, and for a split second, Phoebeās eyes showed surprise.
āDoesnāt look like it,ā he retorted, and James scoffed.
āYouāve all spent weeks pretending Iām not hereāwell, almost all,ā he tilted his head, gaze settling onto Emma, and smiled. Helena pushed her daughter into her back, the girl hiding her face against her shoulder, clinging tighter onto her sisterās handāSophia held her chin high, squeezing back. āItās gotten boring.ā
āThen leave,ā in Phoebeās voice there was all the rage of the Goode women before her. But then James turned, his grip tighter on her arm, and Helena watched her sisterās legs tremble. āJust leave us alone,ā she pleaded, eyes widening.
āNo,ā James chuckled, pulling her closerāJavier could see the strain in the womanās shoulder, her face contorting in pain, and could not wrap his head around it. James Hawkins did not look real, or at least not real enough to hurt them. Still, he felt uneasy, even more so when he spoke again, his head lowered next to Phoebeās. āIām feeling very into sisters right now,ā his gaze flickered towards Helena, too, a grin taking over his pale face.
Javier wasnāt looking at her, but he felt Helena straighten her back, look at him, and then turn. He heard her whisper to her daughters, possibly holding them closer, to run into their auntsā room and be mindful of the salt. He heard two sets of steps backtrack, and watched Jamesā face shift into disappointment.
āOh, Lena, Lena, Lenaāyou really do take the fun out of anything, donāt you?ā he took one step forward, dragging Phoebe with himāthe woman cried weakly, trying and failing to escape his hold.
āHey,ā only now that the kids werenāt in the room did Javier lift his gunāalthough he was sure it would do nothing to stop the man, and his widened grin only confirmed it. āLet go of her.ā
āAnd you,ā James groaned, even as Javier placed himself between him and Helena, āyou never, ever learned when to just give up,ā the two men looked at each otherāJavierās gun lifting, Jamesā hand reaching out for him. āYou should let the adultsāā
Before the sentence was over, James screamed, letting go of Phoebe. Helena ignored Javierās surprised gasp in favour of her sister tumbling to the side, quick to reach her before she could even touch the floor.
The same floor where a star shimmered, catching the sunlight. Javier carried it with him everywhere he went, in remembrance of his father, the star-shaped badge heād lived by for ages before retiring. Javier did not believe in luck, good or bad that it was, but he did believe in reminders: of doing the right thing, always. Of never losing sight of who he was.
He picked it up right as James straightened, a hole in his near-invisible hand that echoed its shape. Without thinking, without considering, Javier held it up right as the other manāor whatever was left of himāscreamed in his direction, unintelligible words that probably wouldāve resounded like threats, had Javier been able to hear a single one.
Instead, he stared as the figure vanished, with one longer scream and a curse, the air darkening in front of his eyes and then dissipated into nothing, leaving him to look at the corridor that brought to the stairs, a ringing in his ears.
āItās okay, Pheebs,ā Helenaās voice slowly brought him back, words repeated soothingly as she still held her sister. āItās okay, itās alright,ā reassuring, in spite of her trembling voice. āI need you to call the aunts, Phoebe. I need you to tell them what happened. Can you do that?ā
āIām sorry,ā Phoebe was still saying, her eyes unfocused though she looked up to Helena.
āI know, I knowābut can you?ā Javier could almost see itānights spent with Helena reassuring her sister, hidden under thick blankets or on the rooftop of the house beneath a sky full of stars. āPlease, I need to go to the girls.ā
āOh, the girls,ā Phoebe exhaled, and released the grip on her arm. āOf course. Of course. Iām sorry.ā
Helena didnāt wait, though she lingered enough to rest a kiss to Phoebeās temple, before standing and walking out of the kitchen. It took Javier a moment to come to his senses, and then he went straight after her.
āWhat the hell was that?ā he asked, his mind still reeling, forgetting for a moment the effect he had on her. āWas that him? Did I kill him?ā
āYes, and noātechnically,ā Helena didnāt stop, heading for the stairs she used to sit on when she was a kid to spy on the aunts. āIt was his spirit, which you banished. But I told you, I killed him. And you can do whatever with this information after, but right nowāā
āHold on just a goddamn second, all right?ā Javier grabbed her arm, pulling her right back against him. A split second in which they looked each other in the eyes, and all that had happened the night before came back, all that had been left unsaid before hit them square in the chest, and in that split second, they couldāve almost forgotten all else. āWhat are you talking about? His spirit? I came here to bring in the bad guyāgenerally, thatās what I do, and now youāre telling me about spirits?ā
āIs that why you came here, Javier?ā she stood her ground, her arm still in his hold. āBe honest.ā
āHonesty,ā he scoffed. āI thought I didāand then you were here, and your letterāmaybe thatās what brought me here. Maybe it was you. And Iām all mixed-up about that.ā
Helena was looking at him with that storm still brewing in her eyes, and Javier felt his knees threaten to give out underneath him. His hand fell from her upper arm, down her elbow and wrist, brushing the palm of her hand. She took a slow breath in, lips trembling.
āThe reason youāre here and you donāt know why is because I sent for you,ā she said, quietly.
āI know whyāā
āYou donāt,ā she interrupted him. āWhen I was a little girl, I worked a spell so I would never fall in love. I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldnāt possibly exist,ā she shook her head, while his fingers wrapped around her limp hand. āBut you do.ā
āSo,ā he scoffed, āyouāre saying that what Iām feeling is just one of your spells?ā
āYes, itās not real,ā it sounded like it pained her to say, even though Javier knew she was telling the truth. Or at least thought she was. āAnd if you stay, I wouldnāt know if it was because of the spell, and you wouldnāt know if it was because I donāt want to go to prison.ā
āAll relationships have problems,ā he muttered, and she gave a small, unamused laugh.
āI thought I loved Frankie, but that was another spell too,ā for a split second, she held his hand back, squeezing her fingers around his to the point it hurt. āStill, you donāt want to know what happens if you stay. Weāre all cursed. You saw that,ā and just like that, she let go of him.
āCurses only have power when you believe in them, Helena, and I donāt,ā clenching his fists, Javier stepped back from her. āYou know what? I wished for you too.ā
Helena knew. Heād told her the night before, his lips etching each word onto her skin.
But she watched him go nevertheless, glad he managed to take the steps she couldnāt.
Helena was tired. She had been tired since lying on the floor next to her sister, watching as she was being consumed from inside. But all of that was over. Sheād stared at the letter from Laredo for days after that, keeping it stored with the other one written in her own hand that carried the mark of both her touch and his.
She did her best to not think of him. It was near impossible.
James Hawkinsā cause of death was accidental, read the letter. His body was identified by jewellery in the ashes of a body found in Laredo, right by his property. The same ring heād told her was in his car, the car sheād driven, the car sheād spilt belladonna in.
Sincerely, Javier PeƱa, special investigator.
āI donāt think youāll find him there, Lena,ā Phoebe said softly, when she caught her reading the letter once more. āBut somewhere else, perhaps.ā
For days, she let the words linger. Days turned into weeks turned into months, his absence like an emptiness into her chest. Sheād almost convinced herself it would pass. That, with time, that too would passājust another pain, just another absence. She could deal with it. She could.
And then Javier was there, in her backyard, or at least that was what she thought she was seeing, because it couldnāt be. How could he be there, when he was in her dreams just that night?
āWhat would you do, Pheebs?ā she whispered, her heart beating so loud she wouldnāt be surprised if everybody else could hear.
āWhat wouldnāt I do, for the right man?ā Phoebe whispered in return, gently pushing her forward with a wide smile. āThis is not the auntsā, this is the two of you.ā
All the while, Javier looked at them, standing perfectly still like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do, one of his hands half-raised as if in greeting but without waving, the other buried deep within his pocket. He looked at them, and watched Phoebe quickly lead the girls away even when they tried to run to him, and then Helena walk in his direction.
āA love that even time will lie down and be still for,ā he said as a way of greeting, once they were standing one in front of the other. āEver since I went back, time hasnāt felt real, because you werenāt there. And maybe you still believe itās for a spell you did as a child, or your auntsā faultāā
āHow do you know about the aunts?ā it was hard not to smile when he fidgeted like that.
āYour sister told me,ā he returned, softly. āYour sister called.ā
āAnd youāre here,ā she said, a half-step forward in his direction.
āIām here,ā he nodded, moving the hand out of his pocket and reaching for her tentatively. āIām here because I know this is real. No gimmick, justāā
āLove?ā she suggested, and the glint in her eyes reminded him of the moon itself.
āLove,ā he repeated, their fingers interlocking. āHelena, I mean all of it. Iāll even quit smokinā ifāā
She kissed him, plain and simple. Pulled his hands so that he was stumbling forward and caught his lips with hers, gentle, slow. She kissed him, and as Javier held her, he felt like heād finally gone home. She kissed him, and felt that empty space in her chest filling with the taste of coffee and tobacco.
Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Abstract:Ā Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Words: 12.6k
Content: original female character (helena goode); alternative universe, magic, death, ghosts, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of an abusive relationship, mildly suggestive language, inspo both from the movie and the book
A/N: it's still halloween, right? i'm sorry for the late late posting but, alas, shit happens. i hope you all enjoy this nevertheless <3
reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too
also on AO3 Ā - masterlist
He will hear my call a mile away. He will whistle my favorite song. He can ride a pony backwards. He can flip pancakes in the air. He'll be marvellously kind. And his favorite shape will be a star. And heāll have eyes like chocolate, worthy of honesty.
Helena Goode often thought about the petals blowing in the air after her Amas Veritas, her true love. Years had gone by since thenāsheād been just a kid, wishing on her true love, her perfect love. Thinking it could not existāfor how could it, when all those women came crying in her auntsā kitchen in the middle of the night? Sheād wished for what she thought could never come to her.
And then there had been Frankieāher love, definitely not perfect, but good, so good. And gone, gone forever, because she had loved him so much. Or so she had thoughtāmaybe that hadnāt been real, maybe there was no such thing as real love, contrary to what her sister said. After all her aunts had played a part in her marriage, and for so long after Frankieās death sheād tried to believe none of it had been real, so that it would hurt less. So that she would not die of a broken heart.
But, in spite of everything, in spite of her bitterness, in spite of her pain, in spite of the loss, she knew some things had been real. Like the coffee he made her in the morning before leaving for work, like the dinners she fixed before he came back, like the colour they picked to paint the walls of their house; like all the times sheād listened for his whistling as he came back from work; like his kisses, and like their two beautiful daughters; like the laughter during the day and the nights spent awake; like the normal life theyād began living, and the shop theyād dreamed of opening together that now belonged to her only.
Like the State Investigator who stood in front of her at the front door, asking after her sisterās boyfriend. A boyfriend she knew to be dead and buried right there in the backyard. Fuck, she kept thinking, looking at the man in front of herāhis eyebrows arched, lips parted under a neatly trimmed moustache, eyes dark as chocolate, andā
āIām sorry?ā she asked, clearing her throat. Dry throat. Sweaty palms. Tongue-tied.
āIs your sister home?ā She knew heād asked that already, and he was being mighty patient about it. āIād like to speak with her, maāam,ā and then, because she had not moved an inch, ānothing to worry about, really. Just routine questions.ā
āSure,ā again Helena cleared her throat, and willed her legs to move. She stepped back, opening the door fully so that she could let him through. āCome on in, Iāll go get her.ā
Fuck, fuck, fuck, over and over as the man nodded and stepped in, walking past her into the entranceāhe smelled of coffee and tobacco, of the desert he came from. Helena closed the door and wiped her hands down the front of her shirt, which she suddenly realised belonged to one of her daughters, with rhinestones adorning the front. Fuck.
āKitchen is just on your left, Iāll be right back.ā
Phoebe Goode was trying her best. Each night she dreamed about Jamesāhis eyes, old and clear, staring at herāand each morning she tried to stop carrying him with her, to forget he ever existed, even though she could still see him on her face, in the bruises around her eye, in the split lip on the point of healingāthanks to her sister salve, the one that smelled of roses. She was trying her best, ignoring the awful fact she felt him still, knowing that the deepest relationship with a man of her whole life was with a dead man.
So she wore blue for protection, and had asked Emma, her niece, to lock her cigarettes away, and tried to sit in silence to meditate and push him away, out of her mind, out of her life for good. She was even back at the house, where sheād sworn she would never go back, because it was safer, because of her sister.
Her sister, running up the stairs, out of breath, in a shirt that did not belong to her and a skirt that mustāve been older than her, so dishevelled-looking Phoebe felt her heart drop for a moment, figured the next words out of her mouth would be James, and honestly anything after that could be awful, because he was. Had been.
āThereās a cop. Agent. Someone,ā Helena was gasping, her voice an alarmed whisper. āHeās looking for you. And Jamesābut he asked for you.ā
āThatās fine, we can manage,ā perhaps the meditation was working, because even after hearing his name she could still think without panic closing her throat. āIāll tell him I havenāt seen him in days, and I came here because weāre done. And if he asks, youāll just sayāā she stopped, frowning at her sister as she shook her head. āWhat? Youāll just say youāve never seen him.ā
āHereās the thing,ā Helena reached for her chest, still shaking her head, still out of breath. Her head was spinning, and her heartāGod, her heartāfelt like it was about to explode. āI donāt think I can lie to him.ā
āOf course you can,ā Phoebe scoffedābut her sister was still having a hard time breathing, her eyes so wide she looked like a deer spooked half to death. āGet over yourself, Lena. Itās fine. Youāre just having a panic attack.ā
āI donāt think itās that. I justāthe way he looks at you,ā she inhaled sharply, a strangled noise scratching her throat and making her sound like a wounded animal, then exhaled, breath stuttering. āI canāt sit there and just lie to him. I know I canāt.ā
āYou have to, Lena,ā but her sisterās eyes darted around the attic, where Phoebe was staying in. She snapped her fingers in front of her face, making her recoil. āListen to me, you have to. We know nothing, nothing happened.ā
Helena and Phoebe had grown up knowing that something was real because they believed in it. That was what gave things powerāmagic, words, talismans. But what happened when two people believed two different things? How did the universe cope with that? Was James dead and buried in their backyard, under lilacs that were growing wildly out of season (girls in the neighbourhood had begun to whisper that if you kissed the boy you loved beneath the Goodeās lilacs heād be yours forever, whether he wanted to be or not), or was he back in Laredo, or off somewhere else, left behind by his girlfriend?
Javier PeƱa was wondering the same as he stood in the odd kitchen of an odd house, there on Magnolia Street.
There were no clocks and no mirrors, in that house, and the floors creaked anywhere but where he stepped; light came pouring in from big, wide windows, showing an even bigger garden with lilacs out of season and more flowers and plants that he could recognise or countārosemary and lavender, roses and daisies, carrots and an apple tree that reminded him strangely of home, but all seemed like a dream through the thick glass. Each piece of furniture inside seemed dusty, but when he ran his fingertip across the dark wooden surface of this table or that cabinet, no dust came awayāno need for polishing anything in there. It smelled of cherrywood. It smelled familiar.
It was a familiarity Javier had not been ready to faceāhe touched the pocket of his jacket, felt the paper tucked in there crinkle at the touch, and a moment later, as if summoned by thought alone, Helena Goode came back down the stairs, slightly more dishevelled looking than before.
Helena had clearly been in the kitchen when he first knocked. He knew because he could almost see it, like a ghost moving around the stove, stirring a pot that had since been turned off, its content left forgotten on the back burden. He knew because sheād called Hold on at the third rattle of his knuckles across the door, matter-of-factly, as if sheād been expecting him. The mere sound of her voice had thrown him for a loop, the patio under his feet shifting unsteadily, and he couldāve followed the sound there with his eyes closed.
He thought then he could be in troubleāand when sheād opened the door, heād known he would. Because heād looked into crystal clear pools of grey and begun drowning, down and down without anything he could do about it. His father had once told him that witches caught you like that: with a look. If you ever meet a woman like that, you run the other way, no matter what, for your own good. Thereās no cowardice in safety. But Javier had no intention of runningāheād rather drown, over and over, if it meant she looked at him like that a little longer.
She stood at the end of the stairs, perfectly still, with that ridiculous shirt with rhinestones across her chest and her dark hair down past her shoulder, brushing the sliver of uncovered skin at her waist. She was beautiful, Javier thought, so ridiculously beautiful he got a lump in his throat just looking at her. For a moment, before her Can I help you? at the door, heād almost forgotten the reason he was there. He almost forgot it again when he saw her shake her head at the end of the stairs, and had to touch the letter tucked next to his heart again.
āCan I get you anything?ā her voice sounded different as she strode into the kitchen. āMy sister will be right down. Coffee?ā she wasnāt looking at him, and Javier wished sheād just stop and turn to face him, if only to forget himself again in her eyes.
But Helena wouldnāt turn. She wouldnāt look at him. She woldnāt look at his face, and his neatly trimmed moustache, and his lovely dark eyes. She wouldnāt look at the lines on his face he was way too young to have, and the loneliness embedded in each of them she knew could be found in the silver strands of her hair, too. Helena figured he was not a man who hid things, just like he was not hiding the fact he was looking at herāshe could feel his eyes burning on the back of her head, and she couldnāt believe the way he was staring at her. Looking at her like that.
It was how dark his eyes were, the problem. The way he could make someoneāherāfeel seen from the inside out.
āCoffeeās fine,ā he said, forcing his gaze away. He looked outside, where in the distance, still filtered like a dream, he could see clouds gathering, a distant storm that seemed to have followed him there. Javierās father had taught him to predict exactly when a storm would hit just by the location of lightning, so that he could prepare the ranch in time to brace for it.
Heād never been very good at it. He thought that lightning, like love, was never ruled by logic. Accidents happened, and they always would.
He looked at Helena again, her back still to himāshe was watching the coffee brew, her arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously against her elbow. Javier looked at her and thought she was familiar to himāheād thought that ever since getting her letter, the one tucked next to his heart, but to see her there in front of him, flesh and bones and long hair and clear eyes, really settled it for him.
Heād heard about it happening to other menāhis friend Steve being one of them. Going about their business one minute and suddenly they found themselves without hope. They fell in love so hard they never got up off their knees again.
Heād never thought it would happen to him. Javier was all businessāhe always had been. It was his need to figure out the why of things, of people. Money, love, furyāthose were the motivations he found usually, in his line of work. James Hawkins fell in the money category, of that he was sure, with perhaps a sprinkle of fury in the shape of his ring marked on the bodies.
Javier had been looking for that ring at Hawkinsā placeāheād seen it in pictures, read it in descriptions, remembered it from the few times his path had trailed along Hawkinsā, because Laredo wasnāt that big of a place, and faces grew familiar over timeāwhen the letter had arrived.
Crumpled and torn in one corner, the flap already opened, Javier had looked at it and thought he shouldāve taken it directly to the office. But an open letter was hard to resist, even for someone like Javier, who had resisted a whole lot in his life. But that letter was something else, something tempting, and he gave into it.
He never regretted it.
He had just sat there, on the patio of the house of the man he was looking for, and read the letter Helena Goode had written to her sister. When he was done, heād read it again. And again. And twice more midair, and then while he had his lunch, and once more when heād settled in his hotel room. Even when the letter was folded back into its envelope and stored in the pocket of his jacket, the words came back to haunt himāwhole sentences written by Helena forming in his mind.
Javier had been close to people, and while he didnāt have that many friends he was contentāheād even almost gotten married after high school, although thatās a topic no one ever brought up, not even himself. But heād never once felt like heād known anyone the way he felt he knew the woman who had written that letter. It felt like someone had ripped a piece of his soul out of him and formed into words. Words he was so taken by he wouldnāt have heard, seen, or felt a thing as long as he was reading them.
I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm, or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen.
Javier wanted to tell her that he saw her. Right there in front of him, and even when she was not there, when he had not the faintest clue what she looked like, he saw her. He saw her standing, moving the coffee pot from the fire. He saw her pouring the coffee in three mismatched cups. He saw her hands shaking as she did so.
āAre you okay?ā he asked, and she recoiled as if startled by his voice.
āI think Iām going to sit down,ā Helena said, casually, as if she didnāt seem about to collapse.
Still she brought two of the cups over, almost spilling the contents of one, and collapsed onto the chair opposite Javi with a shuddering sigh, her cheeks flushed, her chest fluttering. She wondered if drinking coffee would be a good idea at that moment, still feeling as if her heart might explode, but needed something to keep herself busy, so she brought the cup to her mouth and gulped down the scalding drink, burning the roof of her mouth and her lips.
āWhy are you here?ā she asked then, bitterness coating her tongue. She was used to sugar in her coffee, most times a dash of milk. āI mean, I understood what you told meāabout Phoebeās boyfriendābut why here?ā
She saw the man hesitateāhe did not strike her as someone who hesitated in anything, but he was pondering her words and how to best respond to her, his lips shifting to draw in a breath, and then exhale. He reached for his jacketāhe still hadnāt taken that off, and with the movement it hugged his shoulders tight, seams pulling uncomfortablyāand, from one of the inner pockets, took a piece of paper that he handed to her.
āI mailed that to my sister ages ago,ā Helena recognised it immediatelyāthat letter she was so grateful had never reached Phoebe, but also wished it had a little earlier, so she wouldnāt be in that mess. Thereās a halo around the moon tonight. I think trouble is coming. I wish youād get out of there. Come back home. Alone. āYou opened it,ā she added then, a little baffled.
He hadnāt just opened it. Heād read it. The paper consumed from being folded over and over again, each line marked deeper where it bent, words slightly smudged as if someone had run their fingers over each and every of it.
āIt was opened already,ā he retorted, justifying. āIt must have gotten lost at the post office.ā
āBut you read it,ā the cup was burning her palm, the letter her other hand, her face was burning too under his gaze.
āMaybe a thousand times,ā Javier admitted, his voice dropping.
āIt was a very personal letter,ā she whispered too, feeling the tightness inside her throat and belly and chest grow, and grow, and grow until it was choking her. That had to be what a heart attack felt like. Perhaps she was about to end up on the floor unconscious.
āI know,ā the man said, and at last she looked at him.
He saw her but, Javier knew, she saw him too. She couldāve seen how Javier wasnāt sure how far heād go to cover for someoneāheād never been in that position before, and he despised the way it felt. But he was there, sitting in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, a total stranger on a humid day, wondering if he was going to look the other way because of her. She could see all thatāor at least, she hoped.
And then Phoebe came down. Noisy steps down the stairs, announcing her presence to the entire worldāshe always had that about her, always managed to bring the attention to her, with her lovely strawberry-blonde hair and her long lashes and full lips. Even with the bruises, even with the wounds, even with her fear embedded so deeply into her skin it was painful, Phoebe was beautiful.
Still, Javier focused on Helena, and it wasnāt until her sister stood at her side that he caught a glimpse of her. Night and day, thatās what the aunts called them. He didnāt know, but he wouldāve agreedāso starkly different, yet seemingly in tune with each other.
āAs Iāve said your sister, I wonāt take up much of your time,ā Javier cleared his throat, offered his hand to Phoebe as he stood. He missed the feeling of his letter against his body, but Helena was clutching it tight, pressing it against her stomach. āItās just a couple of questions, routine checks.ā
āOf courseāagent, is it?ā Phoebeās voice was soft where Helenaās was strong. She took up space just by standing, her arms folded in front of her as she held the third cup that had been on the counter.
āYes, maāamāAgent PeƱa.ā Only then did she take his hand, a delicate shake before turning his palm up towards her face, peering down with an interested hum.
āYouāve come a long way just for a couple of routine questions, Agent PeƱa.ā Her thumb ran along one of the lines on his palm, tracing it with a feather-like touch. Her brows knitted for a moment, confusion locking on her features (eyes darting towards her sister) before she shook herself. āI see here itāll be worth the trip,ā she mused, tapping his palm.
āRight.ā Again he cleared his throat, and pulled his hand back. āWhen was the last time you saw James Hawkins?ā
āAh, a man of action,ā Phoebe scoffed lightly, then shrugged. āCouple of weeks, just before I came here. It just wasnāt working anymore.ā
āIs he responsible for that?ā he asked, gesturing towards her face, the bruises.
āAs Iāve said, it wasnāt working anymore,ā she tipped her chin up, leaned with her hip against Helenaās chair. āI have no idea where he might be. If a man hits me, he only does it once,ā Helenaās breath hitched, her grip on both the cup and letter tightening.
āWhat about the car? The one with the Texas plateāitās registered in his name,ā Javier thought he might as well reveal all his cards from the beginning. Neither sister was stupid, but still Phoebe was lyingāhe knew she was. He had seen that look before, countless times: people who are guilty of something think they can hide it by not looking at you. Or looking at you too much.
Helena wasnāt looking at him anymoreāagain. Phoebe was staring him down. But Helena wasnāt looking at him, because she knew, she was certain, that could not lie to the man. She feared her eyes would betray her too, like her heart was doing, like she imagined her words would if she were to say anything more.
āI took it when I ran,ā Phoebe said, sighing. āAnd I know thatās wrong, so you may take it right awayāI just needed a way out. That was the fastest.ā
She was good, Javier managed to think in that haze-like feeling heād found himself in since heād walked into the house. Since heād seen Helena. Her eyes.
āAnd you have not heard from him since?ā Phoebe shook her head, sipping on her coffee and grimacingātoo bitter, too strong. But it helped keep her mind away from the times she had heard from Jamesāin her dreams, nightmares, really; or when she was distracted, and his voice crept into her head; or when she looked in the mirror and his reflection stared back.
āI have not,ā she smacked her lips, the taste of the coffee lingering on the tip of her tongue.
āAlright, well,ā Javier picked his cup and drank most of the coffee that remainedāhe liked it that way, black and strong, it reminded him of his fatherāthen went to the sink to rinse the cup. Helena watched him while his back was turned, and almost smiled at the way he let the water slosh from side to side enough to get any residue off before settling it upside down. āIf anything comes to mind, Iāll be around a couple of days longerāIām staying at the Hide-A-Way Motel.ā
āReally?ā was the first thing Helena said in what felt like ages. Javier turned aroundāhe was just stalling then. He wanted to remain there, with her. He wanted to keep on looking into Helenaās eyes and drown, drown, drown for days. He saw nothing else but her eyes.
āLady at the car rental desk suggested itāit isnāt half bad,ā he shrugged, and smoothed his jacket down. He felt the absence of the letter when he ran his hand across his chest, and the paper did not crinkle under his touch. Helena curled her fingers around her words. āNice area.ā
āIt is,ā she should knowāher shop was one street away from the motel. Sheād picked the area with Frankie because of how nice it was, close enough to the park it gave the impression of being around nature, but not so far from town that nobody would walk by the shop.
Phoebe watched the agent and her sister look at each other and frownedāfor a moment, what sheād seen on PeƱaās palm flashed before her eyes again. A new beginning, a line cut through by something, someone he could not escape. It had been written on his skin since the beginning. Some fates were just guaranteed.
āIf I happen to remember anything else, Iāll come around,ā Phoebe said, cutting through the crackle of energy that passed from one to the other. It was as if sheād woken them up from a dream, a dream made of only looks and silence. āYou can have the car taken away.ā
āGreat,ā he cleared his throat, and forced himself to back away. He knew that if he lingered any longer, heād never want to leave. It was hard enough already. āThanks.ā
Helena felt like she was losing her mind.
The night before, a ring had appeared around the moon. A halo around the moon was always a sign of disruptionābut it was a double ring, all tangled up, anything could happen. Helena didnāt like the thought, and she hadnāt been able to sleep all night.
The sparrow that used to fly each midsummerās eve into the house on Magnolia Street had come back, out of season, round and round the dining roomāher daughters had counted each circle: three. Three meant trouble, it always had. Sheād chased it out with her sister, both of them on edge.
And it rained. All night and through the morning, one of her daughters standing by the window looking at the lilacs being hit by drop after drop, tapping her fingers nervously. Emma was looking at the man in their backyard, who stared back at them like from a vision, a nightmare rather than a dream. She was hoping he would go away, but the bad weather did not bother himāhe seemed to relish in the black skies and the wild wind, and the rain passed through him. Emma thoughtāshe knewāit was his fault that things were going amiss in the house, even though she didnāt know the extent of it: pipes rusting and the tile floor of the basement turning to dust, nothing in the refrigerator would stay fresh.
Both sets of sisters fought, loud and mean and just like he wanted them to. Emma wouldāve liked them all to stop. Helena thought of chopping the lilacs all night long, but had to go to work.
And then there was Javier. Agent PeƱa, who walked around town and talked to everyone and was always there when she turned around from the counter. Javier, with a cigarette hanging from his lips at every street corner. Always there, always there, always there.
āFuck!ā Helena exclaimed, when the jar she was trying to place on the shelf fell and shattered on the ground, shards of glass flying around her ankles and the contentsācurled dried leavesāspilling across the clean floor. āGod, give me a break.ā
āAre you okay, Lena?ā a voice called from the other side of the shop. Helena didnāt have many friendsāit came with the Goode name, being shunned away. But Crystal was one of the few who did not shy away, besides being a good employee. āLet me help you.ā
āItās alright, I just havenāt been sleeping well,ā she went to gather the glass and leaves, both crunching as she moved the broom across them. āBut could you put the kettle on? Maybe some tea will do me good,ā even though she craved coffee desperately.
Sheād craved coffee ever since sheād met with the agent. Black and bitter. She could smell it in the air around her, no matter which room she walked in, or which streetāalong with tobacco and more. Sheād never smoked a cigarette in her life but now felt her fingers itch as if reaching for one.
Crystal obliged without questionāsheād learned early on that many things around Helena Goode just did not make sense, and there was no point in prying. It had been that way since they were children. Her mother liked the Goode aunts, said that it was not their fault for more than two hundred years their family had been blamed for everything that went wrong in town.
Some people are just different. Most people are just stupid to be afraid of it.
She remembered their classmates being terrified of the day a bunch of cats followed Helena to schoolāwitchery, they called it. A witch and her familiars. Nasty, nasty creatures, the whole lot of them. But Crystal remembered Helena being kind and poised, she remembered her balanced lunches, and the way she always looked out for her sister. She still did. Why people would think Helena and Phoebe had any evil in them escaped her.
Goode women ignored convention; they were headstrong and willful, and meant to be that way.
āThank you, Crystal,ā Helena said from the kitchenette, throwing away the spoiled merchandise..
āAre you sure you wouldnāt rather go home? I can look after the shop,ā but even as she asked, Helena was shaking her head, lips trembling with her deep inhale. āLena, did something happen?ā
āItās notāā a bell. The shopās bell. Helena looked up from her mug, the smell of lavender easing her headache a little, and then turned. āIāll get it.ā
He was everywhere, always there, always there, in her shop, too. Helena stood frozen next to the counter and looked at the agent who was looking aroundāa feeble attempt at not immediately turning towards her, not falling into her eyes right away.
āYes?ā she managed to ask, her throat dry once again. Just by his mere presence.
āIām afraid I forgot to bring enough toothpaste,ā Javier lied. Heād thrown an almost full tube in the bin just that morningāstill wasnāt sure why. Maybe because so many people had told him about Helenaās shop, just around the corner. How the woman was the way she was, but her products were amazing.
āYou couldāve gone to the market,ā she said, but placed her mug down and moved to the shelf anyway. Once she wasnāt looking at him, she managed to exhale again, but still his eyes burned on the back of her head, and she suddenly felt conscious of the fact she probably had forgotten to brush her hair in the morning.
āYes,ā he retorted, and didnāt add anything else. He knew he couldāve, but he didnāt want to. And he couldāve told her it was because so many people had recommended her stuff, or because the shop was closer to his motel. But he didnāt.
āAny allergies?ā she asked, moving the stool closer to the shelf.
āNo, maāam.ā She paused, one foot up the step as she bit her tongueājust a moment, then she climbed and grabbed a jar, the label scribbled so hurriedly it was unreadable, the dark paste inside a stark contrast with the white paper.
āCharcoalāwhitens the teeth,ā she moved back down, the counter between them as she handed the product to himāher eyes flickered towards the cigarette that heād tucked over his ear, shaking her head lightly. āNasty habit,ā she muttered, lowering her gaze.
āIām aware,ā Javier chuckledāas he took the jar, he grazed her fingers. Helena pulled back as if sheād been burned, fingertips curling into her palm and pressing harshly. āDoes this stuff actually work?ā he cleared his throat, turning it in his palm to glance at the label again.
He knew her handwriting. He could read it like the back of his hand. I have this dream of being whole.
āIt does,ā Crystal called as she walked in from the kitchenette, and Helena leaned over the counter and reached for her mugāanything to keep her hands busy. āSee for yourself. On the house.ā
āHe canāt accept it on the house, Crystal,ā she said, moving back. āThereās an investigation ongoingāisnāt that right?ā it looked as if she might turn to him while she addressed him, but didnāt. Again.
āThatās right,ā Javier cleared his throat, shuffling a little. He was so close to the counter he could feel the edge of it dig into his stomach, and forced himself to look at the other woman. āBut are you giving me your word? That it works.ā
He was a charmer. Helena knew alreadyāCrystal was just finding out. She wanted to ask what investigation Helena was talking about, what was happening at the house on Magnolia Street that she desperately did not want to go back, and what was happening with the agent so desperately trying to meet her eyes.
āCross my heart,ā she said instead, because she knew this would be another inexplicable moment. Sheād made her peace with it. āSwear to God, this woman is a magician. Let me ring you up.ā
Helena hid her face with the mug, the dwindling steam turning her cheeks a soft shade of red. At the same time, Javier scoffed lightly.
āRight,ā he muttered, reaching for his wallet. āHeard that one before. Thanks.ā
It took a moment for Helena to register his wordsāshe was trying so hard to not hear him, to not focus on him, that she didnāt understand what he was saying until he was out of the door, an echo of the bell ringing in her mind.
āWait, what?ā she placed the mug down, looking up at his back behind the glass. āHold on.ā
She shouldnāt have gone after him. She shouldāve known better. Helena spent her whole life being vigilant, she spent her whole life relying on logic and common sense, sheād taken care of everything from the moment her parents had died, and then again when Frankie had diedāshe thought about everything.
She had to, because otherwise how would her kids have made it to fourteen and fifteen?
She had to, because if she stopped thinking about everything, what exactly was she left with? Her thoughts and worries are the only reason she continued to exist, of that she was certain.
Never look back, never change direction, thatās what she had to tell herself. Donāt think about being alone in the dark, or storms or lightning and thunder, or the true love you wonāt ever have. Life, she knew, was brushing her teeth and making breakfast for her kids and not letting her mind wander.
But that was a lieāfrom the beginning Helena had been lying to herself, telling herself she could handle anything: her parents dying, her sister relying on her, her auntsā reputation, Frankie, Frankieās death, the spell, the year where everything went grey, her children, and now this. Sheād grown tiredāshe didnāt want to lie anymore. One more lie and sheād be lost. One more lie and sheād never find her way back through the woods.
And itās all because of him.
āWhat did you mean?ā she stopped abruptly when he did, taking a step back when he turned to look at her. She tugged her cardigan close, the wind whipping the ends around along with her hair, and tipped her chin up with her arms crossed, finally, finally looking back at him. āHeard that one before?ā she echoed. āIs that why you were at my shop?ā
āNo,ā he shook his head. āItās because I needed toothpaste, and Iām just around the corner,ā she scoffed lightly, shuffling her feet. āBut actually, yes, I heard a bunch of stuff that doesnāt make sense at all, so Iād like to understand.ā
āWhy?ā
āBecause itās my job,ā he retorted. āBecause, seriously, I have heard it all. A family of witches, a curse, your own husbandāā
āDonāt,ā she snapped, and for a moment Javier recoiled, saw the truth in the words of all the people who had warned him off Helena Goode. With her hair dancing in the wind, and her cheeks still red, and her eyes oh-so-clear, like a storm incoming, he understood. āDo not bring Frankie into this.ā
āHard not to, when itās everything this town talks about,ā he took a step forward, her whole body seizing up. āDo you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? People tell me youāre here cooking up placenta bars, that youāre into devil worship.ā
āYou think I donāt know that?ā her voice was lower, and pulled him closer. āAll my life, this townāI know what they say about me, I know what everybody thinks.ā She wanted to move awayāshe wanted to lean in. She remained still. āAll my life I wanted nothing more than to be seen as normal, but thatās just not the way it is. I donāt have a ranch house or a white picket fence, I donāt have a husband thatās alive anymore, I donāt haveāā she cut herself off, unsure as to why she was so ready to pour her heart out to a stranger in the middle of the street. āI donāt see how thatās my fault.ā
āI never said it was,ā Javier spoke softly, a gentleness that felt foreign on his tongue but rolled off easily when he looked at her.
āThen why are you here?ā her chin was still up, but she was looking down at her nose, careful to avoid his gazeāit made him believe that she, too, felt that tug in the pit of her stomach. She was just better at controlling it.
Your letter, he almost said. You.
āJames Hawkins,ā he replied instead. āA guy like that doesnāt simply vanish.ā
āAnd would that be such a big loss?ā she scoffed, tightening her arms around herself. āA guy like thatāwouldnāt it be so much better if he did just vanish?ā
āMaybe,ā he shrugged, and felt his hands move before he could control himself. āBut I made a vow, and I have a jobāā his fingertips grazed her arm, and at that she pulled back.
āAs do I,ā one hand moved to the point heād brushed, holding the spot as if it hurt, tight against her chest. āSo unless you have something you want to ask me, Agent PeƱa, Iād rather get back to it.ā
āAre you or your sister hiding James Hawkins?ā
āHeās not here, no.ā
āDid you or your sister kill James Hawkins?ā he asked, and her eyebrows arched.
āOh, yeah. Couple of times,ā Javier sighed, and forced himself back, his hand now itching for his cigarette. āIs that all?ā he put it between his lips, ignoring the frown forming on her brow.
āYeah, sure,ā he didnāt light it up just yet, but reached for the lighter neverthelessāhe missed the letter in his pocket whenever he touched it. āBye, Helena.ā
He watched her go back inside the shop with her shoulders pulled back tight, steps unsteady, and only when the door was closed, the echo of the bell ringing in his ears, did he light up the cigarette.
She watched him go away from inside the shop, with his steps matching the thundering of her heart.
āWhat is wrong with you?ā Phoebe watched her sister kneel on the ground, pruning shears in hand and purple flowers all around her, on her. āWhat are you doing?ā
āIām tired of seeing these every time I look out of the window,ā her breath was shortāthe flowers seemed endless, she cut and cut and cut and still they were there. āAnd the smellāI hate it. I canāt do it anymore.ā
āLenaāLena! Itās just flowers!ā although Phoebe knew it was not entirely true. Mostly, she ignored the lilacs, and everything that was underneath it. Especially what was underneath it. āStop it, before you hurt yourself.ā
āOh, now youāre thinking about that?ā Helena dropped the shears and stood, the soil on her jeans already a stain she wouldnāt manage to remove. āNow that thereās a cop after us? Now you think I might hurt myself?ā
āSo what? We stick to our story. No body, no crime,ā she gestured towards the lilacs. āThere is not a single reason why he should think weāve done something, unless you give him one.ā
āBut we did, Phoebe. You understand that, donāt you?ā she hissed, walking up to her sister. āWe fucked up, and somehow Iām still the one whoās cleaning up your messes,ā Phoebeās eyes widened, mouth set in a thin line. āIām sick of this.ā
āI never asked you to, I neverāā
āEnough lies, Pheebs. Arenāt you tired?ā Helena smelled like the lilacs, and her headache was back, stronger and stronger as the storm approached from the horizon. āI know I am. Iām so tired of lying.ā
āWhat are you talking about?ā Phoebe had lowered her voice, and was looking at her sister as if she could not recognise her. āLenaāyou canāt do that,ā even as she said it, Helena walked past her, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans. āYou canāt go to him,ā she said, following her. āWeāll both be sitting in jail if you do. What about the girls? Why are you even thinking about it now?ā
Helena wasnāt sure why. She knew sheād woken up smelling cigarettes and coffee again, and the lilacs, and the nightmare still clinging to her eyelids, making her feel unrested as she had for the past days. Weeks. She wasnāt sure anymore. All she knew is that her throat hurt from all the lies sheād told Javier, and she wanted to come clean, to tell allāshe wanted someone to listen to what she had to say and really hear her, the way no one ever had before. So sheād gone to work, and back home to cut the flowers, and as sundown approached she would go out for Javier.
āDonāt tell me about the girls now, when I spent half my life thinking only about them,ā she said loudly, marching in and out of room after room of the house, grabbing things she wasnāt even sure she needed. āAnd you? You only ever thought about yourself. You left me here. You lived your life. And you dragged me back in just to save your ass.ā
āOh, thatās it, isnāt it?ā Phoebe screamed too, from the middle of the house, following the noises of her sister as she stomped around. āI lived my life and you hate me for it!ā
āI donāt hate you, Phoebe.ā
āNo, no, sureāyouāre unbelievable. You spent all your life trying to be normal and fit in, but you never will! You know weāre different, and so are your girls,ā Helena stopped abruptly to look at her.
āThatās twice nowāyou leave them out of this,ā she said with a scowl so similar to that of their motherās, if only either of them could remember her.
āAll my life Iāve wished I had half your talentāyouāre wasting yourself, Lena,ā Phoebe cried, and for a moment she sounded just like the little girl who had just gotten to the auntsā house. āAnd now youāwhat? Youāre gonna turn yourself in? Or get down on your knees and beg for mercy?ā
āIf Iāll have to, yes,ā Helena said without a second thought, fixing her sister with a look. āIām done.ā
They both measured themselves harshly, always had, as if they had never been anything but those two plain little girls, waiting at the airport for someone to claim them.
If you go against what you believe in, youāre nothing. That was another thing his father liked to sayāand Javier knew he was right. So he was going to stick to his plan: fly back home and give up the case to the poor bastard who was supposed to get it from the beginning, had it not been for the letter. He was going to go back to work as usual, forget about the whole ordeal, forget about grey eyes and dark hair and his own heart.
Heart, heart, heart beating to the sound of the knocking on his door, that for a moment heād thought to be rain pattering on the ground and the roof, such the strength of the storm was. But he heard it, and when he opened the door, Helena was there, shivering and looking up at him.
āYou want a confession?ā
In his line of work, Javier had been trained to notice things, but he couldnāt quite believe what he was seeing. Part of the reason was that heād been imagining Helena everywhere he went. So maybe it was just an illusion, a desire of his heart turned into a vision.
āWhat?ā he stepped aside and, water falling from her hair, Helena walked in, trailing mud behind.
āYou want a confession, donāt you? Itās why youāre still here,ā she was shaking, arms crossed over her chest with wet clothes clinging to her. āWe killed James. Technically, I killed James. I used belladonna.ā
āI know,ā Helena frowned, moved the hair out of her face with trembling hands.
āYou know?ā she sniffled, part from the cold part from the smell attacking her nostrilsācoffee and tobacco and, surprisingly, food.
āI found some in the carāsaw the same thing in your shop and had it analyzed,ā he closed the door, careful to not turn the lock, leaving her a way out as he moved back towards the kitchenette. āHis ring was in there, too. There was blood on it. Have you had any dinner?ā
āIāwhat is this, some sort of joke?ā she asked, slightly out of breath, and stepped in his direction. Javier scoffed, his back to her as he shook his head a little.
āFar from it,ā he muttered, turning the stove off. Still, he didnāt move to look at herāif he did, he wouldnāt be able to say what he had to. He could feel her shiver, just a few steps from him, and it took everything in him to not reach over and grab her and hold her close. āBut I have no idea what to do from here. I canāt say that Iām sorry Hawkins is gone, and I canātāā
āJavierāā he exhaledāit was the first time she said his name, and he gripped the counter with both hands as he closed his eyes. Through the rain, and the soil, and the smoke in his room, he could smell lilacs and that same scent that had clung to the letter, which had bled onto his fingers each time he reread it.
āI was gonna turn over the case,ā she held her breath at his wordsāhe heard the light hiccup as her lips sealed, and slowly turned, though his gaze remained lowered. āI canāt say Iām impartial anymoreāI can pretend, but Iām not. I no longer can tell whatās right and whatās wrong and youāyou came here, and what did you think would happen?ā
āI donāt know,ā her voice was small, and Javier knew she was looking at himāthe roles had switched, he could feel her gaze burning across his skin. āThatās the thing, I donāt know. Iām tiredāof lying, of hiding, of those fucking flowers,ā she sniffled, and from the corner of his eyes he could see her rubbing her arms. āThe thing is, Iām pretty sure itās because of you, and I canāt stand itābecause I know Iāll get hurt, and my sister will get hurt, and my children, too.ā
āThen why,ā his voice had dropped slightly, and he took one more step forward, looking up at lastāthey were standing so close now, heat radiating off of him and clinging to her chilling bones, āare you here, Helena?ā
āI donāt know,ā she whispered, her hands seeking him before she could even realise. āMaybe this,ā her letter was almost destroyed, wet and crumpled as she held it between them.
Fear or lonelinessāshe wasnāt sure she could distinguish them anymore. When the deathwatch beetle had started ticking for Frankie, then sheād been afraid. When sheād stopped speaking and seeing colours for a year, and her children had been by themselves, then sheād been afraid. When she was young, and she sneaked down the stairs with her sister to see what the aunts where up to, then sheād been afraid. In that moment, she was terrified.
And lonely. Sheād never felt more alone or lonely before in her life. She wished she couldāve believed in loveās salvation, but truth was desire had been ruined for her. She wished sheād never spied on the auntsā and seen their customers crying and begging and making fools of themselves. Sheād become love-resistant because of that and, with her sister, sitting on the roof of the house, theyād wished to look up at the stars and not be afraid of it.
But, just like trouble, love came in unannounced and took over before sheād had a chance to reconsider or even think about itāFrankie first, and nowā
Amas Veritasāshe thought about it again, looking into Javierās dark eyes. He will hear my call a mile awayāsheād been just a child, so stupid, thinking that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, to play with. But real love, sheād learned, she was learning, was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didnāt let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.
Sheād learned that with Frankie, and nowā
āOh, donāt,ā she whispered when Javierās hand brushed along her arms, foregoing the letterāand moved closer to him, pulled by gravity, by forces she couldnāt begin to control. āJaviāā
He believed he was going to cryābecause she was saying his name again, soft and gentle and like sheād known it all her life, and his hands were tracing a path up her arms like he knew exactly the shape of her, and trying to learn it by memory all over again.
He wasnāt even sure that was not the case. Perhaps a part of him knew her already, always had.
He had stumbled into love, of that he was certain, and was stuck there. Javier was used to not getting what he wanted, heād learned to deal with it, but with Helena in front of him he couldnāt help but wonder if that had only been because heād never wanted anything too badly. He did now.
āI just do this,ā he said, voice sad and deep and causing the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on edge as he leaned closer, towards the hand she was offering to him like in prayer, and she brushed his cheek as he sighed. āPay no attention,ā he said, but she did. How could she not?
He was there, and she shifted toward him as if to brush her hand along his face, but instead ended up with her arms looped around his neck, his own wrapped around her, holding her closer.
And Helena was terrified, because suddenly she wanted whatever he was promising her, with his lips so close and words so soft she told herself donāt listen, but she couldnāt, because whispers of Iāve been looking for you forever inched their way underneath her skin, warmed by his hands. She wanted to get lostāshe, who couldnāt function without directions, needed it. Him.
Everything she did those days was so unlike her usual self that when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind Javierās shoulder, she couldnāt recognise herself. Looking back at her was a woman who couldāve fallen in love if sheād let herself, a woman who didnāt stop, not even when Javier moved her hair from her neck, the wet locks sending a shiver down her spine that only intensified as the man bowed his head a pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat.
What good would it do her to get involved with someone like him? She wonderedābecause the last time she did, she loved so much she got hurt to the point a part of her had forever vanished. Or so she had thought, because with Javierās lips brushing her skin, the light tickle from his moustache making her eyelids droop, she couldāve believed something had come back alive behind her ribs. She suddenly felt like she had to press a hand down against her chest to make sure her heart wouldnāt escape her body.
āHelenaāā he whispered, his arms tight around herāthe droplets of rain clung to his lips, the taste of her flooding his senses, overpowering everything else. She sighed again, a shudder running down her spine, unsure if it was from his voice or the cold settling in her bones.
Although, if she were to be honest with herself, sheād say she wasnāt cold. She was burning, really, Javierās body so close she could memorise it by touch alone.
āMaybe Iām letting you do this so youāll stop the investigation, even with my confession,ā she said, his head straighteningāhis nose brushed along her jaw, her cheek, and her eyes remained closed. āHave you thought about that? Maybe Iām so desperate Iād fuck anyone, including you.ā
There was a sour taste in her mouth with each cruel word, but she didnāt careāshe forced herself to open her eyes, she knew she needed to see the wounded look on his face with each bitter word. She needed to stop itāwhatever it wasābefore she no longer had the option to. Before the freedom she had longed for forever slipped through her fingers, and she was trapped again in pain, just like the women who used to come at the auntsā back door.
āHelena,ā Javier said again, mournful, and she could almost taste her own name falling from his lips. The tobacco, too. Her mouth parted on instinct, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw down towards her chin, brushing her bottom lip. āYouāre not like that.ā
āReally?ā she scoffed lightly, the noise remaining trapped in her throat when she lifted her gaze to his eyes. āYou donāt know me. You just think you do.ā
āThatās right,ā he nodded, and the tip of his nose brushed hersāone tilt of his chin, one tip of her head, and the agony would be over for both of them. But for the moment they were just suspended in time. āI think I do. I do.ā
āLet go,ā she told Javier, and it sounded almost like a plea. āLet go of me.ā
He did. He wouldāve done anything she asked of him. Let go, hold tighter, kneel, jump into a fire. All of it. So he let go of her, even if it hurt, both of them taking one step backāher arms immediately wrapped around her middle (an attempt to trap his warmth close to her skin), his hands tingling with the loss of her.
āHelenaāā he said once more, her name more and more familiar on his tongue.
āYou have your confession, and you have your proof,ā each word felt like shreds of glass in her throat, while she looked away forcefullyāin the window, her reflection was almost familiar again, still a little wild, but recognisable. āItās up to you. You know where to find me, once you make a decision.ā
āI do,ā he repeated, somewhat stunned, his mind reeling. She took one step to the side, heading for the door. āItās still pouring outside.ā
āI know,ā she only said, and went nevertheless.
For hours her perfume remained in the room, clinging to him for so long he didnāt even notice the smell of his burned dinner. So long the letter had dried on the floor where it had slipped, enough for him to reread it, again and again until heād managed to fall asleep.
Helena couldnāt stop thinking about Javier. From the moment sheād walked out of the motel room, he had been all she could think aboutāon the drive home through the storm, in the warm bath to wash the cold away, doing the dishes, in bed, unable to sleep, dreaming about him while wide awake and in the few hours sheād managed to close her eyes, too. Haunted, just like her sister.
She dreamed of the desert, an apple tree in a yard that wasnāt hers and bloomed without water, and horses that ate apples from that tree and ran faster than all the others, and a man who was taking a bite from a pie sheād made, bound to be hers for life. Sheād woken up smelling apple pie and cinnamon, coffee and tobacco.
So it was no surprise when Javier showed up that same morning. She almost heard him coming. Yet she couldnāt face him right away, so she hid inside, behind her sister, still skittish, behind her daughters, still confused, behind the pretence of making breakfast.
āHeās staying!ā Sophia, the eldest of her daughters, announced, running from the garden to somewhere past the living roomāHelena sighed, eyes closing. āAunt Pheebs! He says heās staying!ā
Helena wondered if, without the feeling of Javierās hands still on her, she wouldāve wondered why Phoebe would care whether or not the man investigating them was staying at their place for breakfast. She wasnāt even sure whether she was glad he was staying or just nauseated.
āCan I help?ā Emma, much quieter than her sister, stepped at her motherās side and pointed at the stove, a half-burned pancake smoking on the pan. Helena threw the failed attempt away and nodded, forcing a smile onto her faceāshe knew the man was in the room with them, she could feel him watching the two of them from the entrance, could see him in her mind as he leaned against the doorway.
āBe careful,ā she murmured, taking one step aside, then another, and more, her own steps echoed by Javierās. They met halfway across the kitchen, her still not looking at him while his eyes never once left her.
āāMorning,ā he hummed, shoulders brushingāHelena moved aside, ignoring the sharp pain in her hip when she bumped into the table.
āGood morning,ā she cleared her throat, brushing her hands down the front of her shirtāand then lowered her voice. āWhy are you here?ā
āYou told me I knew where to find you once Iād made my decision,ā he replied, matching her tone.
āAnd have you?ā her hands began going numb as she clenched them in fists at her sides. She could still feel Javier looking at her.
āIām going back to Laredo,ā her gaze snapped in his direction, so fast the whole room spun as she inhaled sharply, holding her breath. āI thought you should have this. After all, it belongs to you.ā
It took her a moment to manage to focus on the paper he was handing herāher letter, now ruined, a half-destroyed piece of paper sheād poured her heart over, more than once. When she picked it up, their fingers brushed just like the first time, and Helena almost cried out in pain.
āNow, something smells like itās burning,ā she could see the strain in his neck as he turned away from her, looking at Emma. One more moment and then he walked ahead. āNeed a hand?ā
āI was trying to flip it,ā Emma mumbled, a pout forming on her lips that made her look more like her mother. Javier chuckled, settling at her side. āDo you know how?ā she asked suddenly, a hopeful note in her voice Helena hadnāt heard in a while. Her chest constricted, watching the man smirk and roll up his sleeves.
āI absolutely know how to,ā he nodded with a theatrical gesture. āStep aside and observe.ā
Amas Veritas, dancing in Helenaās head as she watched Javier, fitting so well in her kitchen, flip pancakes in the air and making the young girl laugh. It had been a while since Emma had laughed like that, and for a moment she was her soft-voiced and shy 14-year-old again, who liked to look at the stars and sleep with her head on Helenaās lap.
But then her shoulders tensed, her whole position shifting, taking one step away from Javier to turn towards her mother, even though her eyes went past her. Helena knew, without having to turn right away, that something was terribly wrong.
āMom,ā Sophia came running in, breathless, and immediately clung to her arm, tugging harshly. āSomethingās wrong, mom,ā the panic in her voice settled in Helenaās bones, mixing with her own, and she was quick to push her daughter behind her back, stepping away from the door. āItās aunt Pheebs, sheāā
āItās not her,ā Emmaās voice was grave, so unfitting for a young woman, and she inched closer to her mother, too. Which left Javier at the stove, looking at the three of them with confusion and alarm. āItās him, itās the man of the lilacs.ā
āWhat?ā perplexed, Javier took a step forward, only to be stopped by Helenaās extended arm, while she pushed all three of them behind her just as Phoebe walked into the kitchen. Accompanied. āWhat the hellāā Javier exhaled, reaching for his belt.
āAgent PeƱa!ā James exclaimed, translucent as he came into the light. Javierās head started spinning as he stared at him, then at Phoebe Goode, her arm trapped in his vice grip made of fingers of smoke, then back at him. āLong time no see. Howās Laredo? I think Iām starting to feel homesick.ā
As James spoke, Helena had started stepping backwards, her gaze never leaving Phoebeāthe two sisters were looking at each other, guilt and fear and resolution in their gazes that no one but the younger girls could notice, the familiarity an ache on the palms of their hands as they held each othersā, keeping close, keeping behind their mother.
āHelena,ā Javier called, his gaze unwavering as he took hold of his gun. āYou said he was dead.ā
āYes,ā she nodded, and for a split second, Phoebeās eyes showed surprise.
āDoesnāt look like it,ā he retorted, and James scoffed.
āYouāve all spent weeks pretending Iām not hereāwell, almost all,ā he tilted his head, gaze settling onto Emma, and smiled. Helena pushed her daughter into her back, the girl hiding her face against her shoulder, clinging tighter onto her sisterās handāSophia held her chin high, squeezing back. āItās gotten boring.ā
āThen leave,ā in Phoebeās voice there was all the rage of the Goode women before her. But then James turned, his grip tighter on her arm, and Helena watched her sisterās legs tremble. āJust leave us alone,ā she pleaded, eyes widening.
āNo,ā James chuckled, pulling her closerāJavier could see the strain in the womanās shoulder, her face contorting in pain, and could not wrap his head around it. James Hawkins did not look real, or at least not real enough to hurt them. Still, he felt uneasy, even more so when he spoke again, his head lowered next to Phoebeās. āIām feeling very into sisters right now,ā his gaze flickered towards Helena, too, a grin taking over his pale face.
Javier wasnāt looking at her, but he felt Helena straighten her back, look at him, and then turn. He heard her whisper to her daughters, possibly holding them closer, to run into their auntsā room and be mindful of the salt. He heard two sets of steps backtrack, and watched Jamesā face shift into disappointment.
āOh, Lena, Lena, Lenaāyou really do take the fun out of anything, donāt you?ā he took one step forward, dragging Phoebe with himāthe woman cried weakly, trying and failing to escape his hold.
āHey,ā only now that the kids werenāt in the room did Javier lift his gunāalthough he was sure it would do nothing to stop the man, and his widened grin only confirmed it. āLet go of her.ā
āAnd you,ā James groaned, even as Javier placed himself between him and Helena, āyou never, ever learned when to just give up,ā the two men looked at each otherāJavierās gun lifting, Jamesā hand reaching out for him. āYou should let the adultsāā
Before the sentence was over, James screamed, letting go of Phoebe. Helena ignored Javierās surprised gasp in favour of her sister tumbling to the side, quick to reach her before she could even touch the floor.
The same floor where a star shimmered, catching the sunlight. Javier carried it with him everywhere he went, in remembrance of his father, the star-shaped badge heād lived by for ages before retiring. Javier did not believe in luck, good or bad that it was, but he did believe in reminders: of doing the right thing, always. Of never losing sight of who he was.
He picked it up right as James straightened, a hole in his near-invisible hand that echoed its shape. Without thinking, without considering, Javier held it up right as the other manāor whatever was left of himāscreamed in his direction, unintelligible words that probably wouldāve resounded like threats, had Javier been able to hear a single one.
Instead, he stared as the figure vanished, with one longer scream and a curse, the air darkening in front of his eyes and then dissipated into nothing, leaving him to look at the corridor that brought to the stairs, a ringing in his ears.
āItās okay, Pheebs,ā Helenaās voice slowly brought him back, words repeated soothingly as she still held her sister. āItās okay, itās alright,ā reassuring, in spite of her trembling voice. āI need you to call the aunts, Phoebe. I need you to tell them what happened. Can you do that?ā
āIām sorry,ā Phoebe was still saying, her eyes unfocused though she looked up to Helena.
āI know, I knowābut can you?ā Javier could almost see itānights spent with Helena reassuring her sister, hidden under thick blankets or on the rooftop of the house beneath a sky full of stars. āPlease, I need to go to the girls.ā
āOh, the girls,ā Phoebe exhaled, and released the grip on her arm. āOf course. Of course. Iām sorry.ā
Helena didnāt wait, though she lingered enough to rest a kiss to Phoebeās temple, before standing and walking out of the kitchen. It took Javier a moment to come to his senses, and then he went straight after her.
āWhat the hell was that?ā he asked, his mind still reeling, forgetting for a moment the effect he had on her. āWas that him? Did I kill him?ā
āYes, and noātechnically,ā Helena didnāt stop, heading for the stairs she used to sit on when she was a kid to spy on the aunts. āIt was his spirit, which you banished. But I told you, I killed him. And you can do whatever with this information after, but right nowāā
āHold on just a goddamn second, all right?ā Javier grabbed her arm, pulling her right back against him. A split second in which they looked each other in the eyes, and all that had happened the night before came back, all that had been left unsaid before hit them square in the chest, and in that split second, they couldāve almost forgotten all else. āWhat are you talking about? His spirit? I came here to bring in the bad guyāgenerally, thatās what I do, and now youāre telling me about spirits?ā
āIs that why you came here, Javier?ā she stood her ground, her arm still in his hold. āBe honest.ā
āHonesty,ā he scoffed. āI thought I didāand then you were here, and your letterāmaybe thatās what brought me here. Maybe it was you. And Iām all mixed-up about that.ā
Helena was looking at him with that storm still brewing in her eyes, and Javier felt his knees threaten to give out underneath him. His hand fell from her upper arm, down her elbow and wrist, brushing the palm of her hand. She took a slow breath in, lips trembling.
āThe reason youāre here and you donāt know why is because I sent for you,ā she said, quietly.
āI know whyāā
āYou donāt,ā she interrupted him. āWhen I was a little girl, I worked a spell so I would never fall in love. I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldnāt possibly exist,ā she shook her head, while his fingers wrapped around her limp hand. āBut you do.ā
āSo,ā he scoffed, āyouāre saying that what Iām feeling is just one of your spells?ā
āYes, itās not real,ā it sounded like it pained her to say, even though Javier knew she was telling the truth. Or at least thought she was. āAnd if you stay, I wouldnāt know if it was because of the spell, and you wouldnāt know if it was because I donāt want to go to prison.ā
āAll relationships have problems,ā he muttered, and she gave a small, unamused laugh.
āI thought I loved Frankie, but that was another spell too,ā for a split second, she held his hand back, squeezing her fingers around his to the point it hurt. āStill, you donāt want to know what happens if you stay. Weāre all cursed. You saw that,ā and just like that, she let go of him.
āCurses only have power when you believe in them, Helena, and I donāt,ā clenching his fists, Javier stepped back from her. āYou know what? I wished for you too.ā
Helena knew. Heād told her the night before, his lips etching each word onto her skin.
But she watched him go nevertheless, glad he managed to take the steps she couldnāt.
Helena was tired. She had been tired since lying on the floor next to her sister, watching as she was being consumed from inside. But all of that was over. Sheād stared at the letter from Laredo for days after that, keeping it stored with the other one written in her own hand that carried the mark of both her touch and his.
She did her best to not think of him. It was near impossible.
James Hawkinsā cause of death was accidental, read the letter. His body was identified by jewellery in the ashes of a body found in Laredo, right by his property. The same ring heād told her was in his car, the car sheād driven, the car sheād spilt belladonna in.
Sincerely, Javier PeƱa, special investigator.
āI donāt think youāll find him there, Lena,ā Phoebe said softly, when she caught her reading the letter once more. āBut somewhere else, perhaps.ā
For days, she let the words linger. Days turned into weeks turned into months, his absence like an emptiness into her chest. Sheād almost convinced herself it would pass. That, with time, that too would passājust another pain, just another absence. She could deal with it. She could.
And then Javier was there, in her backyard, or at least that was what she thought she was seeing, because it couldnāt be. How could he be there, when he was in her dreams just that night?
āWhat would you do, Pheebs?ā she whispered, her heart beating so loud she wouldnāt be surprised if everybody else could hear.
āWhat wouldnāt I do, for the right man?ā Phoebe whispered in return, gently pushing her forward with a wide smile. āThis is not the auntsā, this is the two of you.ā
All the while, Javier looked at them, standing perfectly still like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do, one of his hands half-raised as if in greeting but without waving, the other buried deep within his pocket. He looked at them, and watched Phoebe quickly lead the girls away even when they tried to run to him, and then Helena walk in his direction.
āA love that even time will lie down and be still for,ā he said as a way of greeting, once they were standing one in front of the other. āEver since I went back, time hasnāt felt real, because you werenāt there. And maybe you still believe itās for a spell you did as a child, or your auntsā faultāā
āHow do you know about the aunts?ā it was hard not to smile when he fidgeted like that.
āYour sister told me,ā he returned, softly. āYour sister called.ā
āAnd youāre here,ā she said, a half-step forward in his direction.
āIām here,ā he nodded, moving the hand out of his pocket and reaching for her tentatively. āIām here because I know this is real. No gimmick, justāā
āLove?ā she suggested, and the glint in her eyes reminded him of the moon itself.
āLove,ā he repeated, their fingers interlocking. āHelena, I mean all of it. Iāll even quit smokinā ifāā
She kissed him, plain and simple. Pulled his hands so that he was stumbling forward and caught his lips with hers, gentle, slow. She kissed him, and as Javier held her, he felt like heād finally gone home. She kissed him, and felt that empty space in her chest filling with the taste of coffee and tobacco.
Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
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Abstract:Ā Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Words: 12k
Content: original female character (helena goode); alternative universe, magic, death, ghosts, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of an abusive relationship, mildly suggestive language, inspo both from the movie and the book
A/N: it's still halloween, right? i'm sorry for the late late posting but, alas, shit happens. i hope you all enjoy this nevertheless <3
reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too
also on AO3 Ā - masterlist
He will hear my call a mile away. He will whistle my favorite song. He can ride a pony backwards. He can flip pancakes in the air. He'll be marvellously kind. And his favorite shape will be a star. And heāll have eyes like chocolate, worthy of honesty.
Helena Goode often thought about the petals blowing in the air after her Amas Veritas, her true love. Years had gone by since thenāsheād been just a kid, wishing on her true love, her perfect love. Thinking it could not existāfor how could it, when all those women came crying in her auntsā kitchen in the middle of the night? Sheād wished for what she thought could never come to her.
And then there had been Frankieāher love, definitely not perfect, but good, so good. And gone, gone forever, because she had loved him so much. Or so she had thoughtāmaybe that hadnāt been real, maybe there was no such thing as real love, contrary to what her sister said. After all her aunts had played a part in her marriage, and for so long after Frankieās death sheād tried to believe none of it had been real, so that it would hurt less. So that she would not die of a broken heart.
But, in spite of everything, in spite of her bitterness, in spite of her pain, in spite of the loss, she knew some things had been real. Like the coffee he made her in the morning before leaving for work, like the dinners she fixed before he came back, like the colour they picked to paint the walls of their house; like all the times sheād listened for his whistling as he came back from work; like his kisses, and like their two beautiful daughters; like the laughter during the day and the nights spent awake; like the normal life theyād began living, and the shop theyād dreamed of opening together that now belonged to her only.
Like the State Investigator who stood in front of her at the front door, asking after her sisterās boyfriend. A boyfriend she knew to be dead and buried right there in the backyard. Fuck, she kept thinking, looking at the man in front of herāhis eyebrows arched, lips parted under a neatly trimmed moustache, eyes dark as chocolate, andā
āIām sorry?ā she asked, clearing her throat. Dry throat. Sweaty palms. Tongue-tied.
āIs your sister home?ā She knew heād asked that already, and he was being mighty patient about it. āIād like to speak with her, maāam,ā and then, because she had not moved an inch, ānothing to worry about, really. Just routine questions.ā
āSure,ā again Helena cleared her throat, and willed her legs to move. She stepped back, opening the door fully so that she could let him through. āCome on in, Iāll go get her.ā
Fuck, fuck, fuck, over and over as the man nodded and stepped in, walking past her into the entranceāhe smelled of coffee and tobacco, of the desert he came from. Helena closed the door and wiped her hands down the front of her shirt, which she suddenly realised belonged to one of her daughters, with rhinestones adorning the front. Fuck.
āKitchen is just on your left, Iāll be right back.ā
Phoebe Goode was trying her best. Each night she dreamed about Jamesāhis eyes, old and clear, staring at herāand each morning she tried to stop carrying him with her, to forget he ever existed, even though she could still see him on her face, in the bruises around her eye, in the split lip on the point of healingāthanks to her sister salve, the one that smelled of roses. She was trying her best, ignoring the awful fact she felt him still, knowing that the deepest relationship with a man of her whole life was with a dead man.
So she wore blue for protection, and had asked Emma, her niece, to lock her cigarettes away, and tried to sit in silence to meditate and push him away, out of her mind, out of her life for good. She was even back at the house, where sheād sworn she would never go back, because it was safer, because of her sister.
Her sister, running up the stairs, out of breath, in a shirt that did not belong to her and a skirt that mustāve been older than her, so dishevelled-looking Phoebe felt her heart drop for a moment, figured the next words out of her mouth would be James, and honestly anything after that could be awful, because he was. Had been.
āThereās a cop. Agent. Someone,ā Helena was gasping, her voice an alarmed whisper. āHeās looking for you. And Jamesābut he asked for you.ā
āThatās fine, we can manage,ā perhaps the meditation was working, because even after hearing his name she could still think without panic closing her throat. āIāll tell him I havenāt seen him in days, and I came here because weāre done. And if he asks, youāll just sayāā she stopped, frowning at her sister as she shook her head. āWhat? Youāll just say youāve never seen him.ā
āHereās the thing,ā Helena reached for her chest, still shaking her head, still out of breath. Her head was spinning, and her heartāGod, her heartāfelt like it was about to explode. āI donāt think I can lie to him.ā
āOf course you can,ā Phoebe scoffedābut her sister was still having a hard time breathing, her eyes so wide she looked like a deer spooked half to death. āGet over yourself, Lena. Itās fine. Youāre just having a panic attack.ā
āI donāt think itās that. I justāthe way he looks at you,ā she inhaled sharply, a strangled noise scratching her throat and making her sound like a wounded animal, then exhaled, breath stuttering. āI canāt sit there and just lie to him. I know I canāt.ā
āYou have to, Lena,ā but her sisterās eyes darted around the attic, where Phoebe was staying in. She snapped her fingers in front of her face, making her recoil. āListen to me, you have to. We know nothing, nothing happened.ā
Helena and Phoebe had grown up knowing that something was real because they believed in it. That was what gave things powerāmagic, words, talismans. But what happened when two people believed two different things? How did the universe cope with that? Was James dead and buried in their backyard, under lilacs that were growing wildly out of season (girls in the neighbourhood had begun to whisper that if you kissed the boy you loved beneath the Goodeās lilacs heād be yours forever, whether he wanted to be or not), or was he back in Laredo, or off somewhere else, left behind by his girlfriend?
Javier PeƱa was wondering the same as he stood in the odd kitchen of an odd house, there on Magnolia Street.
There were no clocks and no mirrors, in that house, and the floors creaked anywhere but where he stepped; light came pouring in from big, wide windows, showing an even bigger garden with lilacs out of season and more flowers and plants that he could recognise or countārosemary and lavender, roses and daisies, carrots and an apple tree that reminded him strangely of home, but all seemed like a dream through the thick glass. Each piece of furniture inside seemed dusty, but when he ran his fingertip across the dark wooden surface of this table or that cabinet, no dust came awayāno need for polishing anything in there. It smelled of cherrywood. It smelled familiar.
It was a familiarity Javier had not been ready to faceāhe touched the pocket of his jacket, felt the paper tucked in there crinkle at the touch, and a moment later, as if summoned by thought alone, Helena Goode came back down the stairs, slightly more dishevelled looking than before.
Helena had clearly been in the kitchen when he first knocked. He knew because he could almost see it, like a ghost moving around the stove, stirring a pot that had since been turned off, its content left forgotten on the back burden. He knew because sheād called Hold on at the third rattle of his knuckles across the door, matter-of-factly, as if sheād been expecting him. The mere sound of her voice had thrown him for a loop, the patio under his feet shifting unsteadily, and he couldāve followed the sound there with his eyes closed.
He thought then he could be in troubleāand when sheād opened the door, heād known he would. Because heād looked into crystal clear pools of grey and begun drowning, down and down without anything he could do about it. His father had once told him that witches caught you like that: with a look. If you ever meet a woman like that, you run the other way, no matter what, for your own good. Thereās no cowardice in safety. But Javier had no intention of runningāheād rather drown, over and over, if it meant she looked at him like that a little longer.
She stood at the end of the stairs, perfectly still, with that ridiculous shirt with rhinestones across her chest and her dark hair down past her shoulder, brushing the sliver of uncovered skin at her waist. She was beautiful, Javier thought, so ridiculously beautiful he got a lump in his throat just looking at her. For a moment, before her Can I help you? at the door, heād almost forgotten the reason he was there. He almost forgot it again when he saw her shake her head at the end of the stairs, and had to touch the letter tucked next to his heart again.
āCan I get you anything?ā her voice sounded different as she strode into the kitchen. āMy sister will be right down. Coffee?ā she wasnāt looking at him, and Javier wished sheād just stop and turn to face him, if only to forget himself again in her eyes.
But Helena wouldnāt turn. She wouldnāt look at him. She woldnāt look at his face, and his neatly trimmed moustache, and his lovely dark eyes. She wouldnāt look at the lines on his face he was way too young to have, and the loneliness embedded in each of them she knew could be found in the silver strands of her hair, too. Helena figured he was not a man who hid things, just like he was not hiding the fact he was looking at herāshe could feel his eyes burning on the back of her head, and she couldnāt believe the way he was staring at her. Looking at her like that.
It was how dark his eyes were, the problem. The way he could make someoneāherāfeel seen from the inside out.
āCoffeeās fine,ā he said, forcing his gaze away. He looked outside, where in the distance, still filtered like a dream, he could see clouds gathering, a distant storm that seemed to have followed him there. Javierās father had taught him to predict exactly when a storm would hit just by the location of lightning, so that he could prepare the ranch in time to brace for it.
Heād never been very good at it. He thought that lightning, like love, was never ruled by logic. Accidents happened, and they always would.
He looked at Helena again, her back still to himāshe was watching the coffee brew, her arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously against her elbow. Javier looked at her and thought she was familiar to himāheād thought that ever since getting her letter, the one tucked next to his heart, but to see her there in front of him, flesh and bones and long hair and clear eyes, really settled it for him.
Heād heard about it happening to other menāhis friend Steve being one of them. Going about their business one minute and suddenly they found themselves without hope. They fell in love so hard they never got up off their knees again.
Heād never thought it would happen to him. Javier was all businessāhe always had been. It was his need to figure out the why of things, of people. Money, love, furyāthose were the motivations he found usually, in his line of work. James Hawkins fell in the money category, of that he was sure, with perhaps a sprinkle of fury in the shape of his ring marked on the bodies.
Javier had been looking for that ring at Hawkinsā placeāheād seen it in pictures, read it in descriptions, remembered it from the few times his path had trailed along Hawkinsā, because Laredo wasnāt that big of a place, and faces grew familiar over timeāwhen the letter had arrived.
Crumpled and torn in one corner, the flap already opened, Javier had looked at it and thought he shouldāve taken it directly to the office. But an open letter was hard to resist, even for someone like Javier, who had resisted a whole lot in his life. But that letter was something else, something tempting, and he gave into it.
He never regretted it.
He had just sat there, on the patio of the house of the man he was looking for, and read the letter Helena Goode had written to her sister. When he was done, heād read it again. And again. And twice more midair, and then while he had his lunch, and once more when heād settled in his hotel room. Even when the letter was folded back into its envelope and stored in the pocket of his jacket, the words came back to haunt himāwhole sentences written by Helena forming in his mind.
Javier had been close to people, and while he didnāt have that many friends he was contentāheād even almost gotten married after high school, although thatās a topic no one ever brought up, not even himself. But heād never once felt like heād known anyone the way he felt he knew the woman who had written that letter. It felt like someone had ripped a piece of his soul out of him and formed into words. Words he was so taken by he wouldnāt have heard, seen, or felt a thing as long as he was reading them.
I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm, or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen.
Javier wanted to tell her that he saw her. Right there in front of him, and even when she was not there, when he had not the faintest clue what she looked like, he saw her. He saw her standing, moving the coffee pot from the fire. He saw her pouring the coffee in three mismatched cups. He saw her hands shaking as she did so.
āAre you okay?ā he asked, and she recoiled as if startled by his voice.
āI think Iām going to sit down,ā Helena said, casually, as if she didnāt seem about to collapse.
Still she brought two of the cups over, almost spilling the contents of one, and collapsed onto the chair opposite Javi with a shuddering sigh, her cheeks flushed, her chest fluttering. She wondered if drinking coffee would be a good idea at that moment, still feeling as if her heart might explode, but needed something to keep herself busy, so she brought the cup to her mouth and gulped down the scalding drink, burning the roof of her mouth and her lips.
āWhy are you here?ā she asked then, bitterness coating her tongue. She was used to sugar in her coffee, most times a dash of milk. āI mean, I understood what you told meāabout Phoebeās boyfriendābut why here?ā
She saw the man hesitateāhe did not strike her as someone who hesitated in anything, but he was pondering her words and how to best respond to her, his lips shifting to draw in a breath, and then exhale. He reached for his jacketāhe still hadnāt taken that off, and with the movement it hugged his shoulders tight, seams pulling uncomfortablyāand, from one of the inner pockets, took a piece of paper that he handed to her.
āI mailed that to my sister ages ago,ā Helena recognised it immediatelyāthat letter she was so grateful had never reached Phoebe, but also wished it had a little earlier, so she wouldnāt be in that mess. Thereās a halo around the moon tonight. I think trouble is coming. I wish youād get out of there. Come back home. Alone. āYou opened it,ā she added then, a little baffled.
He hadnāt just opened it. Heād read it. The paper consumed from being folded over and over again, each line marked deeper where it bent, words slightly smudged as if someone had run their fingers over each and every of it.
āIt was opened already,ā he retorted, justifying. āIt must have gotten lost at the post office.ā
āBut you read it,ā the cup was burning her palm, the letter her other hand, her face was burning too under his gaze.
āMaybe a thousand times,ā Javier admitted, his voice dropping.
āIt was a very personal letter,ā she whispered too, feeling the tightness inside her throat and belly and chest grow, and grow, and grow until it was choking her. That had to be what a heart attack felt like. Perhaps she was about to end up on the floor unconscious.
āI know,ā the man said, and at last she looked at him.
He saw her but, Javier knew, she saw him too. She couldāve seen how Javier wasnāt sure how far heād go to cover for someoneāheād never been in that position before, and he despised the way it felt. But he was there, sitting in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, a total stranger on a humid day, wondering if he was going to look the other way because of her. She could see all thatāor at least, she hoped.
And then Phoebe came down. Noisy steps down the stairs, announcing her presence to the entire worldāshe always had that about her, always managed to bring the attention to her, with her lovely strawberry-blonde hair and her long lashes and full lips. Even with the bruises, even with the wounds, even with her fear embedded so deeply into her skin it was painful, Phoebe was beautiful.
Still, Javier focused on Helena, and it wasnāt until her sister stood at her side that he caught a glimpse of her. Night and day, thatās what the aunts called them. He didnāt know, but he wouldāve agreedāso starkly different, yet seemingly in tune with each other.
āAs Iāve said your sister, I wonāt take up much of your time,ā Javier cleared his throat, offered his hand to Phoebe as he stood. He missed the feeling of his letter against his body, but Helena was clutching it tight, pressing it against her stomach. āItās just a couple of questions, routine checks.ā
āOf courseāagent, is it?ā Phoebeās voice was soft where Helenaās was strong. She took up space just by standing, her arms folded in front of her as she held the third cup that had been on the counter.
āYes, maāamāAgent PeƱa.ā Only then did she take his hand, a delicate shake before turning his palm up towards her face, peering down with an interested hum.
āYouāve come a long way just for a couple of routine questions, Agent PeƱa.ā Her thumb ran along one of the lines on his palm, tracing it with a feather-like touch. Her brows knitted for a moment, confusion locking on her features (eyes darting towards her sister) before she shook herself. āI see here itāll be worth the trip,ā she mused, tapping his palm.
āRight.ā Again he cleared his throat, and pulled his hand back. āWhen was the last time you saw James Hawkins?ā
āAh, a man of action,ā Phoebe scoffed lightly, then shrugged. āCouple of weeks, just before I came here. It just wasnāt working anymore.ā
āIs he responsible for that?ā he asked, gesturing towards her face, the bruises.
āAs Iāve said, it wasnāt working anymore,ā she tipped her chin up, leaned with her hip against Helenaās chair. āI have no idea where he might be. If a man hits me, he only does it once,ā Helenaās breath hitched, her grip on both the cup and letter tightening.
āWhat about the car? The one with the Texas plateāitās registered in his name,ā Javier thought he might as well reveal all his cards from the beginning. Neither sister was stupid, but still Phoebe was lyingāhe knew she was. He had seen that look before, countless times: people who are guilty of something think they can hide it by not looking at you. Or looking at you too much.
Helena wasnāt looking at him anymoreāagain. Phoebe was staring him down. But Helena wasnāt looking at him, because she knew, she was certain, that could not lie to the man. She feared her eyes would betray her too, like her heart was doing, like she imagined her words would if she were to say anything more.
āI took it when I ran,ā Phoebe said, sighing. āAnd I know thatās wrong, so you may take it right awayāI just needed a way out. That was the fastest.ā
She was good, Javier managed to think in that haze-like feeling heād found himself in since heād walked into the house. Since heād seen Helena. Her eyes.
āAnd you have not heard from him since?ā Phoebe shook her head, sipping on her coffee and grimacingātoo bitter, too strong. But it helped keep her mind away from the times she had heard from Jamesāin her dreams, nightmares, really; or when she was distracted, and his voice crept into her head; or when she looked in the mirror and his reflection stared back.
āI have not,ā she smacked her lips, the taste of the coffee lingering on the tip of her tongue.
āAlright, well,ā Javier picked his cup and drank most of the coffee that remainedāhe liked it that way, black and strong, it reminded him of his fatherāthen went to the sink to rinse the cup. Helena watched him while his back was turned, and almost smiled at the way he let the water slosh from side to side enough to get any residue off before settling it upside down. āIf anything comes to mind, Iāll be around a couple of days longerāIām staying at the Hide-A-Way Motel.ā
āReally?ā was the first thing Helena said in what felt like ages. Javier turned aroundāhe was just stalling then. He wanted to remain there, with her. He wanted to keep on looking into Helenaās eyes and drown, drown, drown for days. He saw nothing else but her eyes.
āLady at the car rental desk suggested itāit isnāt half bad,ā he shrugged, and smoothed his jacket down. He felt the absence of the letter when he ran his hand across his chest, and the paper did not crinkle under his touch. Helena curled her fingers around her words. āNice area.ā
āIt is,ā she should knowāher shop was one street away from the motel. Sheād picked the area with Frankie because of how nice it was, close enough to the park it gave the impression of being around nature, but not so far from town that nobody would walk by the shop.
Phoebe watched the agent and her sister look at each other and frownedāfor a moment, what sheād seen on PeƱaās palm flashed before her eyes again. A new beginning, a line cut through by something, someone he could not escape. It had been written on his skin since the beginning. Some fates were just guaranteed.
āIf I happen to remember anything else, Iāll come around,ā Phoebe said, cutting through the crackle of energy that passed from one to the other. It was as if sheād woken them up from a dream, a dream made of only looks and silence. āYou can have the car taken away.ā
āGreat,ā he cleared his throat, and forced himself to back away. He knew that if he lingered any longer, heād never want to leave. It was hard enough already. āThanks.ā
Helena felt like she was losing her mind.
The night before, a ring had appeared around the moon. A halo around the moon was always a sign of disruptionābut it was a double ring, all tangled up, anything could happen. Helena didnāt like the thought, and she hadnāt been able to sleep all night.
The sparrow that used to fly each midsummerās eve into the house on Magnolia Street had come back, out of season, round and round the dining roomāher daughters had counted each circle: three. Three meant trouble, it always had. Sheād chased it out with her sister, both of them on edge.
And it rained. All night and through the morning, one of her daughters standing by the window looking at the lilacs being hit by drop after drop, tapping her fingers nervously. Emma was looking at the man in their backyard, who stared back at them like from a vision, a nightmare rather than a dream. She was hoping he would go away, but the bad weather did not bother himāhe seemed to relish in the black skies and the wild wind, and the rain passed through him. Emma thoughtāshe knewāit was his fault that things were going amiss in the house, even though she didnāt know the extent of it: pipes rusting and the tile floor of the basement turning to dust, nothing in the refrigerator would stay fresh.
Both sets of sisters fought, loud and mean and just like he wanted them to. Emma wouldāve liked them all to stop. Helena thought of chopping the lilacs all night long, but had to go to work.
And then there was Javier. Agent PeƱa, who walked around town and talked to everyone and was always there when she turned around from the counter. Javier, with a cigarette hanging from his lips at every street corner. Always there, always there, always there.
āFuck!ā Helena exclaimed, when the jar she was trying to place on the shelf fell and shattered on the ground, shards of glass flying around her ankles and the contentsācurled dried leavesāspilling across the clean floor. āGod, give me a break.ā
āAre you okay, Lena?ā a voice called from the other side of the shop. Helena didnāt have many friendsāit came with the Goode name, being shunned away. But Crystal was one of the few who did not shy away, besides being a good employee. āLet me help you.ā
āItās alright, I just havenāt been sleeping well,ā she went to gather the glass and leaves, both crunching as she moved the broom across them. āBut could you put the kettle on? Maybe some tea will do me good,ā even though she craved coffee desperately.
Sheād craved coffee ever since sheād met with the agent. Black and bitter. She could smell it in the air around her, no matter which room she walked in, or which streetāalong with tobacco and more. Sheād never smoked a cigarette in her life but now felt her fingers itch as if reaching for one.
Crystal obliged without questionāsheād learned early on that many things around Helena Goode just did not make sense, and there was no point in prying. It had been that way since they were children. Her mother liked the Goode aunts, said that it was not their fault for more than two hundred years their family had been blamed for everything that went wrong in town.
Some people are just different. Most people are just stupid to be afraid of it.
She remembered their classmates being terrified of the day a bunch of cats followed Helena to schoolāwitchery, they called it. A witch and her familiars. Nasty, nasty creatures, the whole lot of them. But Crystal remembered Helena being kind and poised, she remembered her balanced lunches, and the way she always looked out for her sister. She still did. Why people would think Helena and Phoebe had any evil in them escaped her.
Goode women ignored convention; they were headstrong and willful, and meant to be that way.
āThank you, Crystal,ā Helena said from the kitchenette, throwing away the spoiled merchandise..
āAre you sure you wouldnāt rather go home? I can look after the shop,ā but even as she asked, Helena was shaking her head, lips trembling with her deep inhale. āLena, did something happen?ā
āItās notāā a bell. The shopās bell. Helena looked up from her mug, the smell of lavender easing her headache a little, and then turned. āIāll get it.ā
He was everywhere, always there, always there, in her shop, too. Helena stood frozen next to the counter and looked at the agent who was looking aroundāa feeble attempt at not immediately turning towards her, not falling into her eyes right away.
āYes?ā she managed to ask, her throat dry once again. Just by his mere presence.
āIām afraid I forgot to bring enough toothpaste,ā Javier lied. Heād thrown an almost full tube in the bin just that morningāstill wasnāt sure why. Maybe because so many people had told him about Helenaās shop, just around the corner. How the woman was the way she was, but her products were amazing.
āYou couldāve gone to the market,ā she said, but placed her mug down and moved to the shelf anyway. Once she wasnāt looking at him, she managed to exhale again, but still his eyes burned on the back of her head, and she suddenly felt conscious of the fact she probably had forgotten to brush her hair in the morning.
āYes,ā he retorted, and didnāt add anything else. He knew he couldāve, but he didnāt want to. And he couldāve told her it was because so many people had recommended her stuff, or because the shop was closer to his motel. But he didnāt.
āAny allergies?ā she asked, moving the stool closer to the shelf.
āNo, maāam.ā She paused, one foot up the step as she bit her tongueājust a moment, then she climbed and grabbed a jar, the label scribbled so hurriedly it was unreadable, the dark paste inside a stark contrast with the white paper.
āCharcoalāwhitens the teeth,ā she moved back down, the counter between them as she handed the product to himāher eyes flickered towards the cigarette that heād tucked over his ear, shaking her head lightly. āNasty habit,ā she muttered, lowering her gaze.
āIām aware,ā Javier chuckledāas he took the jar, he grazed her fingers. Helena pulled back as if sheād been burned, fingertips curling into her palm and pressing harshly. āDoes this stuff actually work?ā he cleared his throat, turning it in his palm to glance at the label again.
He knew her handwriting. He could read it like the back of his hand. I have this dream of being whole.
āIt does,ā Crystal called as she walked in from the kitchenette, and Helena leaned over the counter and reached for her mugāanything to keep her hands busy. āSee for yourself. On the house.ā
āHe canāt accept it on the house, Crystal,ā she said, moving back. āThereās an investigation ongoingāisnāt that right?ā it looked as if she might turn to him while she addressed him, but didnāt. Again.
āThatās right,ā Javier cleared his throat, shuffling a little. He was so close to the counter he could feel the edge of it dig into his stomach, and forced himself to look at the other woman. āBut are you giving me your word? That it works.ā
He was a charmer. Helena knew alreadyāCrystal was just finding out. She wanted to ask what investigation Helena was talking about, what was happening at the house on Magnolia Street that she desperately did not want to go back, and what was happening with the agent so desperately trying to meet her eyes.
āCross my heart,ā she said instead, because she knew this would be another inexplicable moment. Sheād made her peace with it. āSwear to God, this woman is a magician. Let me ring you up.ā
Helena hid her face with the mug, the dwindling steam turning her cheeks a soft shade of red. At the same time, Javier scoffed lightly.
āRight,ā he muttered, reaching for his wallet. āHeard that one before. Thanks.ā
It took a moment for Helena to register his wordsāshe was trying so hard to not hear him, to not focus on him, that she didnāt understand what he was saying until he was out of the door, an echo of the bell ringing in her mind.
āWait, what?ā she placed the mug down, looking up at his back behind the glass. āHold on.ā
She shouldnāt have gone after him. She shouldāve known better. Helena spent her whole life being vigilant, she spent her whole life relying on logic and common sense, sheād taken care of everything from the moment her parents had died, and then again when Frankie had diedāshe thought about everything.
She had to, because otherwise how would her kids have made it to fourteen and fifteen?
She had to, because if she stopped thinking about everything, what exactly was she left with? Her thoughts and worries are the only reason she continued to exist, of that she was certain.
Never look back, never change direction, thatās what she had to tell herself. Donāt think about being alone in the dark, or storms or lightning and thunder, or the true love you wonāt ever have. Life, she knew, was brushing her teeth and making breakfast for her kids and not letting her mind wander.
But that was a lieāfrom the beginning Helena had been lying to herself, telling herself she could handle anything: her parents dying, her sister relying on her, her auntsā reputation, Frankie, Frankieās death, the spell, the year where everything went grey, her children, and now this. Sheād grown tiredāshe didnāt want to lie anymore. One more lie and sheād be lost. One more lie and sheād never find her way back through the woods.
And itās all because of him.
āWhat did you mean?ā she stopped abruptly when he did, taking a step back when he turned to look at her. She tugged her cardigan close, the wind whipping the ends around along with her hair, and tipped her chin up with her arms crossed, finally, finally looking back at him. āHeard that one before?ā she echoed. āIs that why you were at my shop?ā
āNo,ā he shook his head. āItās because I needed toothpaste, and Iām just around the corner,ā she scoffed lightly, shuffling her feet. āBut actually, yes, I heard a bunch of stuff that doesnāt make sense at all, so Iād like to understand.ā
āWhy?ā
āBecause itās my job,ā he retorted. āBecause, seriously, I have heard it all. A family of witches, a curse, your own husbandāā
āDonāt,ā she snapped, and for a moment Javier recoiled, saw the truth in the words of all the people who had warned him off Helena Goode. With her hair dancing in the wind, and her cheeks still red, and her eyes oh-so-clear, like a storm incoming, he understood. āDo not bring Frankie into this.ā
āHard not to, when itās everything this town talks about,ā he took a step forward, her whole body seizing up. āDo you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? People tell me youāre here cooking up placenta bars, that youāre into devil worship.ā
āYou think I donāt know that?ā her voice was lower, and pulled him closer. āAll my life, this townāI know what they say about me, I know what everybody thinks.ā She wanted to move awayāshe wanted to lean in. She remained still. āAll my life I wanted nothing more than to be seen as normal, but thatās just not the way it is. I donāt have a ranch house or a white picket fence, I donāt have a husband thatās alive anymore, I donāt haveāā she cut herself off, unsure as to why she was so ready to pour her heart out to a stranger in the middle of the street. āI donāt see how thatās my fault.ā
āI never said it was,ā Javier spoke softly, a gentleness that felt foreign on his tongue but rolled off easily when he looked at her.
āThen why are you here?ā her chin was still up, but she was looking down at her nose, careful to avoid his gazeāit made him believe that she, too, felt that tug in the pit of her stomach. She was just better at controlling it.
Your letter, he almost said. You.
āJames Hawkins,ā he replied instead. āA guy like that doesnāt simply vanish.ā
āAnd would that be such a big loss?ā she scoffed, tightening her arms around herself. āA guy like thatāwouldnāt it be so much better if he did just vanish?ā
āMaybe,ā he shrugged, and felt his hands move before he could control himself. āBut I made a vow, and I have a jobāā his fingertips grazed her arm, and at that she pulled back.
āAs do I,ā one hand moved to the point heād brushed, holding the spot as if it hurt, tight against her chest. āSo unless you have something you want to ask me, Agent PeƱa, Iād rather get back to it.ā
āAre you or your sister hiding James Hawkins?ā
āHeās not here, no.ā
āDid you or your sister kill James Hawkins?ā he asked, and her eyebrows arched.
āOh, yeah. Couple of times,ā Javier sighed, and forced himself back, his hand now itching for his cigarette. āIs that all?ā he put it between his lips, ignoring the frown forming on her brow.
āYeah, sure,ā he didnāt light it up just yet, but reached for the lighter neverthelessāhe missed the letter in his pocket whenever he touched it. āBye, Helena.ā
He watched her go back inside the shop with her shoulders pulled back tight, steps unsteady, and only when the door was closed, the echo of the bell ringing in his ears, did he light up the cigarette.
She watched him go away from inside the shop, with his steps matching the thundering of her heart.
āWhat is wrong with you?ā Phoebe watched her sister kneel on the ground, pruning shears in hand and purple flowers all around her, on her. āWhat are you doing?ā
āIām tired of seeing these every time I look out of the window,ā her breath was shortāthe flowers seemed endless, she cut and cut and cut and still they were there. āAnd the smellāI hate it. I canāt do it anymore.ā
āLenaāLena! Itās just flowers!ā although Phoebe knew it was not entirely true. Mostly, she ignored the lilacs, and everything that was underneath it. Especially what was underneath it. āStop it, before you hurt yourself.ā
āOh, now youāre thinking about that?ā Helena dropped the shears and stood, the soil on her jeans already a stain she wouldnāt manage to remove. āNow that thereās a cop after us? Now you think I might hurt myself?ā
āSo what? We stick to our story. No body, no crime,ā she gestured towards the lilacs. āThere is not a single reason why he should think weāve done something, unless you give him one.ā
āBut we did, Phoebe. You understand that, donāt you?ā she hissed, walking up to her sister. āWe fucked up, and somehow Iām still the one whoās cleaning up your messes,ā Phoebeās eyes widened, mouth set in a thin line. āIām sick of this.ā
āI never asked you to, I neverāā
āEnough lies, Pheebs. Arenāt you tired?ā Helena smelled like the lilacs, and her headache was back, stronger and stronger as the storm approached from the horizon. āI know I am. Iām so tired of lying.ā
āWhat are you talking about?ā Phoebe had lowered her voice, and was looking at her sister as if she could not recognise her. āLenaāyou canāt do that,ā even as she said it, Helena walked past her, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans. āYou canāt go to him,ā she said, following her. āWeāll both be sitting in jail if you do. What about the girls? Why are you even thinking about it now?ā
Helena wasnāt sure why. She knew sheād woken up smelling cigarettes and coffee again, and the lilacs, and the nightmare still clinging to her eyelids, making her feel unrested as she had for the past days. Weeks. She wasnāt sure anymore. All she knew is that her throat hurt from all the lies sheād told Javier, and she wanted to come clean, to tell allāshe wanted someone to listen to what she had to say and really hear her, the way no one ever had before. So sheād gone to work, and back home to cut the flowers, and as sundown approached she would go out for Javier.
āDonāt tell me about the girls now, when I spent half my life thinking only about them,ā she said loudly, marching in and out of room after room of the house, grabbing things she wasnāt even sure she needed. āAnd you? You only ever thought about yourself. You left me here. You lived your life. And you dragged me back in just to save your ass.ā
āOh, thatās it, isnāt it?ā Phoebe screamed too, from the middle of the house, following the noises of her sister as she stomped around. āI lived my life and you hate me for it!ā
āI donāt hate you, Phoebe.ā
āNo, no, sureāyouāre unbelievable. You spent all your life trying to be normal and fit in, but you never will! You know weāre different, and so are your girls,ā Helena stopped abruptly to look at her.
āThatās twice nowāyou leave them out of this,ā she said with a scowl so similar to that of their motherās, if only either of them could remember her.
āAll my life Iāve wished I had half your talentāyouāre wasting yourself, Lena,ā Phoebe cried, and for a moment she sounded just like the little girl who had just gotten to the auntsā house. āAnd now youāwhat? Youāre gonna turn yourself in? Or get down on your knees and beg for mercy?ā
āIf Iāll have to, yes,ā Helena said without a second thought, fixing her sister with a look. āIām done.ā
They both measured themselves harshly, always had, as if they had never been anything but those two plain little girls, waiting at the airport for someone to claim them.
If you go against what you believe in, youāre nothing. That was another thing his father liked to sayāand Javier knew he was right. So he was going to stick to his plan: fly back home and give up the case to the poor bastard who was supposed to get it from the beginning, had it not been for the letter. He was going to go back to work as usual, forget about the whole ordeal, forget about grey eyes and dark hair and his own heart.
Heart, heart, heart beating to the sound of the knocking on his door, that for a moment heād thought to be rain pattering on the ground and the roof, such the strength of the storm was. But he heard it, and when he opened the door, Helena was there, shivering and looking up at him.
āYou want a confession?ā
In his line of work, Javier had been trained to notice things, but he couldnāt quite believe what he was seeing. Part of the reason was that heād been imagining Helena everywhere he went. So maybe it was just an illusion, a desire of his heart turned into a vision.
āWhat?ā he stepped aside and, water falling from her hair, Helena walked in, trailing mud behind.
āYou want a confession, donāt you? Itās why youāre still here,ā she was shaking, arms crossed over her chest with wet clothes clinging to her. āWe killed James. Technically, I killed James. I used belladonna.ā
āI know,ā Helena frowned, moved the hair out of her face with trembling hands.
āYou know?ā she sniffled, part from the cold part from the smell attacking her nostrilsācoffee and tobacco and, surprisingly, food.
āI found some in the carāsaw the same thing in your shop and had it analyzed,ā he closed the door, careful to not turn the lock, leaving her a way out as he moved back towards the kitchenette. āHis ring was in there, too. There was blood on it. Have you had any dinner?ā
āIāwhat is this, some sort of joke?ā she asked, slightly out of breath, and stepped in his direction. Javier scoffed, his back to her as he shook his head a little.
āFar from it,ā he muttered, turning the stove off. Still, he didnāt move to look at herāif he did, he wouldnāt be able to say what he had to. He could feel her shiver, just a few steps from him, and it took everything in him to not reach over and grab her and hold her close. āBut I have no idea what to do from here. I canāt say that Iām sorry Hawkins is gone, and I canātāā
āJavierāā he exhaledāit was the first time she said his name, and he gripped the counter with both hands as he closed his eyes. Through the rain, and the soil, and the smoke in his room, he could smell lilacs and that same scent that had clung to the letter, which had bled onto his fingers each time he reread it.
āI was gonna turn over the case,ā she held her breath at his wordsāhe heard the light hiccup as her lips sealed, and slowly turned, though his gaze remained lowered. āI canāt say Iām impartial anymoreāI can pretend, but Iām not. I no longer can tell whatās right and whatās wrong and youāyou came here, and what did you think would happen?ā
āI donāt know,ā her voice was small, and Javier knew she was looking at himāthe roles had switched, he could feel her gaze burning across his skin. āThatās the thing, I donāt know. Iām tiredāof lying, of hiding, of those fucking flowers,ā she sniffled, and from the corner of his eyes he could see her rubbing her arms. āThe thing is, Iām pretty sure itās because of you, and I canāt stand itābecause I know Iāll get hurt, and my sister will get hurt, and my children, too.ā
āThen why,ā his voice had dropped slightly, and he took one more step forward, looking up at lastāthey were standing so close now, heat radiating off of him and clinging to her chilling bones, āare you here, Helena?ā
āI donāt know,ā she whispered, her hands seeking him before she could even realise. āMaybe this,ā her letter was almost destroyed, wet and crumpled as she held it between them.
Fear or lonelinessāshe wasnāt sure she could distinguish them anymore. When the deathwatch beetle had started ticking for Frankie, then sheād been afraid. When sheād stopped speaking and seeing colours for a year, and her children had been by themselves, then sheād been afraid. When she was young, and she sneaked down the stairs with her sister to see what the aunts where up to, then sheād been afraid. In that moment, she was terrified.
And lonely. Sheād never felt more alone or lonely before in her life. She wished she couldāve believed in loveās salvation, but truth was desire had been ruined for her. She wished sheād never spied on the auntsā and seen their customers crying and begging and making fools of themselves. Sheād become love-resistant because of that and, with her sister, sitting on the roof of the house, theyād wished to look up at the stars and not be afraid of it.
But, just like trouble, love came in unannounced and took over before sheād had a chance to reconsider or even think about itāFrankie first, and nowā
Amas Veritasāshe thought about it again, looking into Javierās dark eyes. He will hear my call a mile awayāsheād been just a child, so stupid, thinking that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, to play with. But real love, sheād learned, she was learning, was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didnāt let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.
Sheād learned that with Frankie, and nowā
āOh, donāt,ā she whispered when Javierās hand brushed along her arms, foregoing the letterāand moved closer to him, pulled by gravity, by forces she couldnāt begin to control. āJaviāā
He believed he was going to cryābecause she was saying his name again, soft and gentle and like sheād known it all her life, and his hands were tracing a path up her arms like he knew exactly the shape of her, and trying to learn it by memory all over again.
He wasnāt even sure that was not the case. Perhaps a part of him knew her already, always had.
He had stumbled into love, of that he was certain, and was stuck there. Javier was used to not getting what he wanted, heād learned to deal with it, but with Helena in front of him he couldnāt help but wonder if that had only been because heād never wanted anything too badly. He did now.
āI just do this,ā he said, voice sad and deep and causing the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on edge as he leaned closer, towards the hand she was offering to him like in prayer, and she brushed his cheek as he sighed. āPay no attention,ā he said, but she did. How could she not?
He was there, and she shifted toward him as if to brush her hand along his face, but instead ended up with her arms looped around his neck, his own wrapped around her, holding her closer.
And Helena was terrified, because suddenly she wanted whatever he was promising her, with his lips so close and words so soft she told herself donāt listen, but she couldnāt, because whispers of Iāve been looking for you forever inched their way underneath her skin, warmed by his hands. She wanted to get lostāshe, who couldnāt function without directions, needed it. Him.
Everything she did those days was so unlike her usual self that when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind Javierās shoulder, she couldnāt recognise herself. Looking back at her was a woman who couldāve fallen in love if sheād let herself, a woman who didnāt stop, not even when Javier moved her hair from her neck, the wet locks sending a shiver down her spine that only intensified as the man bowed his head a pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat.
What good would it do her to get involved with someone like him? She wonderedābecause the last time she did, she loved so much she got hurt to the point a part of her had forever vanished. Or so she had thought, because with Javierās lips brushing her skin, the light tickle from his moustache making her eyelids droop, she couldāve believed something had come back alive behind her ribs. She suddenly felt like she had to press a hand down against her chest to make sure her heart wouldnāt escape her body.
āHelenaāā he whispered, his arms tight around herāthe droplets of rain clung to his lips, the taste of her flooding his senses, overpowering everything else. She sighed again, a shudder running down her spine, unsure if it was from his voice or the cold settling in her bones.
Although, if she were to be honest with herself, sheād say she wasnāt cold. She was burning, really, Javierās body so close she could memorise it by touch alone.
āMaybe Iām letting you do this so youāll stop the investigation, even with my confession,ā she said, his head straighteningāhis nose brushed along her jaw, her cheek, and her eyes remained closed. āHave you thought about that? Maybe Iām so desperate Iād fuck anyone, including you.ā
There was a sour taste in her mouth with each cruel word, but she didnāt careāshe forced herself to open her eyes, she knew she needed to see the wounded look on his face with each bitter word. She needed to stop itāwhatever it wasābefore she no longer had the option to. Before the freedom she had longed for forever slipped through her fingers, and she was trapped again in pain, just like the women who used to come at the auntsā back door.
āHelena,ā Javier said again, mournful, and she could almost taste her own name falling from his lips. The tobacco, too. Her mouth parted on instinct, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw down towards her chin, brushing her bottom lip. āYouāre not like that.ā
āReally?ā she scoffed lightly, the noise remaining trapped in her throat when she lifted her gaze to his eyes. āYou donāt know me. You just think you do.ā
āThatās right,ā he nodded, and the tip of his nose brushed hersāone tilt of his chin, one tip of her head, and the agony would be over for both of them. But for the moment they were just suspended in time. āI think I do. I do.ā
āLet go,ā she told Javier, and it sounded almost like a plea. āLet go of me.ā
He did. He wouldāve done anything she asked of him. Let go, hold tighter, kneel, jump into a fire. All of it. So he let go of her, even if it hurt, both of them taking one step backāher arms immediately wrapped around her middle (an attempt to trap his warmth close to her skin), his hands tingling with the loss of her.
āHelenaāā he said once more, her name more and more familiar on his tongue.
āYou have your confession, and you have your proof,ā each word felt like shreds of glass in her throat, while she looked away forcefullyāin the window, her reflection was almost familiar again, still a little wild, but recognisable. āItās up to you. You know where to find me, once you make a decision.ā
āI do,ā he repeated, somewhat stunned, his mind reeling. She took one step to the side, heading for the door. āItās still pouring outside.ā
āI know,ā she only said, and went nevertheless.
For hours her perfume remained in the room, clinging to him for so long he didnāt even notice the smell of his burned dinner. So long the letter had dried on the floor where it had slipped, enough for him to reread it, again and again until heād managed to fall asleep.
Helena couldnāt stop thinking about Javier. From the moment sheād walked out of the motel room, he had been all she could think aboutāon the drive home through the storm, in the warm bath to wash the cold away, doing the dishes, in bed, unable to sleep, dreaming about him while wide awake and in the few hours sheād managed to close her eyes, too. Haunted, just like her sister.
She dreamed of the desert, an apple tree in a yard that wasnāt hers and bloomed without water, and horses that ate apples from that tree and ran faster than all the others, and a man who was taking a bite from a pie sheād made, bound to be hers for life. Sheād woken up smelling apple pie and cinnamon, coffee and tobacco.
So it was no surprise when Javier showed up that same morning. She almost heard him coming. Yet she couldnāt face him right away, so she hid inside, behind her sister, still skittish, behind her daughters, still confused, behind the pretence of making breakfast.
āHeās staying!ā Sophia, the eldest of her daughters, announced, running from the garden to somewhere past the living roomāHelena sighed, eyes closing. āAunt Pheebs! He says heās staying!ā
Helena wondered if, without the feeling of Javierās hands still on her, she wouldāve wondered why Phoebe would care whether or not the man investigating them was staying at their place for breakfast. She wasnāt even sure whether she was glad he was staying or just nauseated.
āCan I help?ā Emma, much quieter than her sister, stepped at her motherās side and pointed at the stove, a half-burned pancake smoking on the pan. Helena threw the failed attempt away and nodded, forcing a smile onto her faceāshe knew the man was in the room with them, she could feel him watching the two of them from the entrance, could see him in her mind as he leaned against the doorway.
āBe careful,ā she murmured, taking one step aside, then another, and more, her own steps echoed by Javierās. They met halfway across the kitchen, her still not looking at him while his eyes never once left her.
āāMorning,ā he hummed, shoulders brushingāHelena moved aside, ignoring the sharp pain in her hip when she bumped into the table.
āGood morning,ā she cleared her throat, brushing her hands down the front of her shirtāand then lowered her voice. āWhy are you here?ā
āYou told me I knew where to find you once Iād made my decision,ā he replied, matching her tone.
āAnd have you?ā her hands began going numb as she clenched them in fists at her sides. She could still feel Javier looking at her.
āIām going back to Laredo,ā her gaze snapped in his direction, so fast the whole room spun as she inhaled sharply, holding her breath. āI thought you should have this. After all, it belongs to you.ā
It took her a moment to manage to focus on the paper he was handing herāher letter, now ruined, a half-destroyed piece of paper sheād poured her heart over, more than once. When she picked it up, their fingers brushed just like the first time, and Helena almost cried out in pain.
āNow, something smells like itās burning,ā she could see the strain in his neck as he turned away from her, looking at Emma. One more moment and then he walked ahead. āNeed a hand?ā
āI was trying to flip it,ā Emma mumbled, a pout forming on her lips that made her look more like her mother. Javier chuckled, settling at her side. āDo you know how?ā she asked suddenly, a hopeful note in her voice Helena hadnāt heard in a while. Her chest constricted, watching the man smirk and roll up his sleeves.
āI absolutely know how to,ā he nodded with a theatrical gesture. āStep aside and observe.ā
Amas Veritas, dancing in Helenaās head as she watched Javier, fitting so well in her kitchen, flip pancakes in the air and making the young girl laugh. It had been a while since Emma had laughed like that, and for a moment she was her soft-voiced and shy 14-year-old again, who liked to look at the stars and sleep with her head on Helenaās lap.
But then her shoulders tensed, her whole position shifting, taking one step away from Javier to turn towards her mother, even though her eyes went past her. Helena knew, without having to turn right away, that something was terribly wrong.
āMom,ā Sophia came running in, breathless, and immediately clung to her arm, tugging harshly. āSomethingās wrong, mom,ā the panic in her voice settled in Helenaās bones, mixing with her own, and she was quick to push her daughter behind her back, stepping away from the door. āItās aunt Pheebs, sheāā
āItās not her,ā Emmaās voice was grave, so unfitting for a young woman, and she inched closer to her mother, too. Which left Javier at the stove, looking at the three of them with confusion and alarm. āItās him, itās the man of the lilacs.ā
āWhat?ā perplexed, Javier took a step forward, only to be stopped by Helenaās extended arm, while she pushed all three of them behind her just as Phoebe walked into the kitchen. Accompanied. āWhat the hellāā Javier exhaled, reaching for his belt.
āAgent PeƱa!ā James exclaimed, translucent as he came into the light. Javierās head started spinning as he stared at him, then at Phoebe Goode, her arm trapped in his vice grip made of fingers of smoke, then back at him. āLong time no see. Howās Laredo? I think Iām starting to feel homesick.ā
As James spoke, Helena had started stepping backwards, her gaze never leaving Phoebeāthe two sisters were looking at each other, guilt and fear and resolution in their gazes that no one but the younger girls could notice, the familiarity an ache on the palms of their hands as they held each othersā, keeping close, keeping behind their mother.
āHelena,ā Javier called, his gaze unwavering as he took hold of his gun. āYou said he was dead.ā
āYes,ā she nodded, and for a split second, Phoebeās eyes showed surprise.
āDoesnāt look like it,ā he retorted, and James scoffed.
āYouāve all spent weeks pretending Iām not hereāwell, almost all,ā he tilted his head, gaze settling onto Emma, and smiled. Helena pushed her daughter into her back, the girl hiding her face against her shoulder, clinging tighter onto her sisterās handāSophia held her chin high, squeezing back. āItās gotten boring.ā
āThen leave,ā in Phoebeās voice there was all the rage of the Goode women before her. But then James turned, his grip tighter on her arm, and Helena watched her sisterās legs tremble. āJust leave us alone,ā she pleaded, eyes widening.
āNo,ā James chuckled, pulling her closerāJavier could see the strain in the womanās shoulder, her face contorting in pain, and could not wrap his head around it. James Hawkins did not look real, or at least not real enough to hurt them. Still, he felt uneasy, even more so when he spoke again, his head lowered next to Phoebeās. āIām feeling very into sisters right now,ā his gaze flickered towards Helena, too, a grin taking over his pale face.
Javier wasnāt looking at her, but he felt Helena straighten her back, look at him, and then turn. He heard her whisper to her daughters, possibly holding them closer, to run into their auntsā room and be mindful of the salt. He heard two sets of steps backtrack, and watched Jamesā face shift into disappointment.
āOh, Lena, Lena, Lenaāyou really do take the fun out of anything, donāt you?ā he took one step forward, dragging Phoebe with himāthe woman cried weakly, trying and failing to escape his hold.
āHey,ā only now that the kids werenāt in the room did Javier lift his gunāalthough he was sure it would do nothing to stop the man, and his widened grin only confirmed it. āLet go of her.ā
āAnd you,ā James groaned, even as Javier placed himself between him and Helena, āyou never, ever learned when to just give up,ā the two men looked at each otherāJavierās gun lifting, Jamesā hand reaching out for him. āYou should let the adultsāā
Before the sentence was over, James screamed, letting go of Phoebe. Helena ignored Javierās surprised gasp in favour of her sister tumbling to the side, quick to reach her before she could even touch the floor.
The same floor where a star shimmered, catching the sunlight. Javier carried it with him everywhere he went, in remembrance of his father, the star-shaped badge heād lived by for ages before retiring. Javier did not believe in luck, good or bad that it was, but he did believe in reminders: of doing the right thing, always. Of never losing sight of who he was.
He picked it up right as James straightened, a hole in his near-invisible hand that echoed its shape. Without thinking, without considering, Javier held it up right as the other manāor whatever was left of himāscreamed in his direction, unintelligible words that probably wouldāve resounded like threats, had Javier been able to hear a single one.
Instead, he stared as the figure vanished, with one longer scream and a curse, the air darkening in front of his eyes and then dissipated into nothing, leaving him to look at the corridor that brought to the stairs, a ringing in his ears.
āItās okay, Pheebs,ā Helenaās voice slowly brought him back, words repeated soothingly as she still held her sister. āItās okay, itās alright,ā reassuring, in spite of her trembling voice. āI need you to call the aunts, Phoebe. I need you to tell them what happened. Can you do that?ā
āIām sorry,ā Phoebe was still saying, her eyes unfocused though she looked up to Helena.
āI know, I knowābut can you?ā Javier could almost see itānights spent with Helena reassuring her sister, hidden under thick blankets or on the rooftop of the house beneath a sky full of stars. āPlease, I need to go to the girls.ā
āOh, the girls,ā Phoebe exhaled, and released the grip on her arm. āOf course. Of course. Iām sorry.ā
Helena didnāt wait, though she lingered enough to rest a kiss to Phoebeās temple, before standing and walking out of the kitchen. It took Javier a moment to come to his senses, and then he went straight after her.
āWhat the hell was that?ā he asked, his mind still reeling, forgetting for a moment the effect he had on her. āWas that him? Did I kill him?ā
āYes, and noātechnically,ā Helena didnāt stop, heading for the stairs she used to sit on when she was a kid to spy on the aunts. āIt was his spirit, which you banished. But I told you, I killed him. And you can do whatever with this information after, but right nowāā
āHold on just a goddamn second, all right?ā Javier grabbed her arm, pulling her right back against him. A split second in which they looked each other in the eyes, and all that had happened the night before came back, all that had been left unsaid before hit them square in the chest, and in that split second, they couldāve almost forgotten all else. āWhat are you talking about? His spirit? I came here to bring in the bad guyāgenerally, thatās what I do, and now youāre telling me about spirits?ā
āIs that why you came here, Javier?ā she stood her ground, her arm still in his hold. āBe honest.ā
āHonesty,ā he scoffed. āI thought I didāand then you were here, and your letterāmaybe thatās what brought me here. Maybe it was you. And Iām all mixed-up about that.ā
Helena was looking at him with that storm still brewing in her eyes, and Javier felt his knees threaten to give out underneath him. His hand fell from her upper arm, down her elbow and wrist, brushing the palm of her hand. She took a slow breath in, lips trembling.
āThe reason youāre here and you donāt know why is because I sent for you,ā she said, quietly.
āI know whyāā
āYou donāt,ā she interrupted him. āWhen I was a little girl, I worked a spell so I would never fall in love. I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldnāt possibly exist,ā she shook her head, while his fingers wrapped around her limp hand. āBut you do.ā
āSo,ā he scoffed, āyouāre saying that what Iām feeling is just one of your spells?ā
āYes, itās not real,ā it sounded like it pained her to say, even though Javier knew she was telling the truth. Or at least thought she was. āAnd if you stay, I wouldnāt know if it was because of the spell, and you wouldnāt know if it was because I donāt want to go to prison.ā
āAll relationships have problems,ā he muttered, and she gave a small, unamused laugh.
āI thought I loved Frankie, but that was another spell too,ā for a split second, she held his hand back, squeezing her fingers around his to the point it hurt. āStill, you donāt want to know what happens if you stay. Weāre all cursed. You saw that,ā and just like that, she let go of him.
āCurses only have power when you believe in them, Helena, and I donāt,ā clenching his fists, Javier stepped back from her. āYou know what? I wished for you too.ā
Helena knew. Heād told her the night before, his lips etching each word onto her skin.
But she watched him go nevertheless, glad he managed to take the steps she couldnāt.
Helena was tired. She had been tired since lying on the floor next to her sister, watching as she was being consumed from inside. But all of that was over. Sheād stared at the letter from Laredo for days after that, keeping it stored with the other one written in her own hand that carried the mark of both her touch and his.
She did her best to not think of him. It was near impossible.
James Hawkinsā cause of death was accidental, read the letter. His body was identified by jewellery in the ashes of a body found in Laredo, right by his property. The same ring heād told her was in his car, the car sheād driven, the car sheād spilt belladonna in.
Sincerely, Javier PeƱa, special investigator.
āI donāt think youāll find him there, Lena,ā Phoebe said softly, when she caught her reading the letter once more. āBut somewhere else, perhaps.ā
For days, she let the words linger. Days turned into weeks turned into months, his absence like an emptiness into her chest. Sheād almost convinced herself it would pass. That, with time, that too would passājust another pain, just another absence. She could deal with it. She could.
And then Javier was there, in her backyard, or at least that was what she thought she was seeing, because it couldnāt be. How could he be there, when he was in her dreams just that night?
āWhat would you do, Pheebs?ā she whispered, her heart beating so loud she wouldnāt be surprised if everybody else could hear.
āWhat wouldnāt I do, for the right man?ā Phoebe whispered in return, gently pushing her forward with a wide smile. āThis is not the auntsā, this is the two of you.ā
All the while, Javier looked at them, standing perfectly still like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do, one of his hands half-raised as if in greeting but without waving, the other buried deep within his pocket. He looked at them, and watched Phoebe quickly lead the girls away even when they tried to run to him, and then Helena walk in his direction.
āA love that even time will lie down and be still for,ā he said as a way of greeting, once they were standing one in front of the other. āEver since I went back, time hasnāt felt real, because you werenāt there. And maybe you still believe itās for a spell you did as a child, or your auntsā faultāā
āHow do you know about the aunts?ā it was hard not to smile when he fidgeted like that.
āYour sister told me,ā he returned, softly. āYour sister called.ā
āAnd youāre here,ā she said, a half-step forward in his direction.
āIām here,ā he nodded, moving the hand out of his pocket and reaching for her tentatively. āIām here because I know this is real. No gimmick, justāā
āLove?ā she suggested, and the glint in her eyes reminded him of the moon itself.
āLove,ā he repeated, their fingers interlocking. āHelena, I mean all of it. Iāll even quit smokinā ifāā
She kissed him, plain and simple. Pulled his hands so that he was stumbling forward and caught his lips with hers, gentle, slow. She kissed him, and as Javier held her, he felt like heād finally gone home. She kissed him, and felt that empty space in her chest filling with the taste of coffee and tobacco.
Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:
Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
hi daisy! i saw your requests were open and was wondering if i could request more colors for the line dividers? i loved the ones you have so far and was hoping i could ask for some neutral colors (browns, greys/black)! thank you!! have a nice day <3 !
Hope you like them! Thank you for your request lovely, hope you have a nice day too ā¤
Habibi, a story of forbidden love, is a fiction feature set in Gaza. Two students in the West Bank are forced to return home to Gaza, where their love defies tradition. To reach his lover, Qays grafittis poetry across town. Habibi is a modern re-telling of the famous ancient Sufi parable Majnun Layla. The full Arabic title is āHabibi Rasak Kharban,ā which translates as āDarling, somethingās wrong with your head.ā ā from the Palestine Film Institute
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