“I wonder what Lemuel does when he’s not working,” Fiji said. “On his times off.” There was a moment of silence. “Better not to know, I guess.”
“Yeah. Better not.”
Fiji hesitated. She wanted to ask, Did you ever wonder if he knew anything about what might have happened to Aubrey? But she didn’t speak. He would have asked Lemuel if the thought had occurred to him, because he’s just that transparent, she thought.
After Bobo went back to Midnight Pawn, Fiji propped her feet up again with a sigh, though it was more regretful than contented. In a moment, she’d have to give up her garden and her comfort and get cleaned up for work, but usually work was enjoyable, if not exactly fun. And she had the picnic to look forward to. But her thoughts about Aubrey had stirred up an unpleasant nest of feelings.
Fiji had not liked Aubrey Hamilton; in fact, she’d loathed her with an intensity almost amounting to hate. Guilt stirred in Fiji’s gut as she remembered all the bad energy she’d sent Aubrey’s way. Had she ever wished Aubrey was gone, never to be heard from again? Sure, many times . . . in fact, every time she’d watched Aubrey cling to Bobo’s arm and rub herself all over him. And then Aubrey had actually done just that. She’d disappeared.
Because most of the residents of Midnight were quite perceptive, Fiji had never discussed Aubrey with any of them, before or after the vanishing. She knew her dislike would be easy to read . . . if they hadn’t picked up on it already. Instead, she’d cast a spell. If it worked, everyone in Midnight should have been able to perceive Aubrey’s true nature; but if the other Midnighters had suddenly opened their eyes to Aubrey’s awfulness, not one of them had mentioned it.
And now no one would, because Bobo was miserable that Aubrey had left him, and everyone loved Bobo.
Fiji frowned at Mr. Snuggly. For the first time, she realized that in her thoughts she’d been putting Aubrey in the past tense. Bobo might be grieving because she’d left him, but Fiji could tell he also lived in anticipation of the day when Aubrey would return to her senses and come back to Midnight, to Bobo.
Fiji didn’t believe that was going to happen. She didn’t think she’d ever see Aubrey again.
As it turned out, she was wrong.
5
Manfred’s cell phone rang early Saturday morning. “Manfred,” said Fiji’s voice. There was a whoosh in the background, and Manfred peered out his front blinds with his phone to his ear, to see her standing in her yard with her own cell phone, a truck running between them and making her hair even more tousled by the wind of its passing. “The Rev needs a witness. You want to come over to the chapel?”
“Right now?” Manfred looked at the “reading” he was typing onto the screen. I sense you are involved in great turmoil right now. The way will be made clear. You will get a sign in the next three days pointing the way to the solution to your problems. In the meantime, be careful whom you trust with your secrets. Someone close to you does not wish you well. Since he’d had no clue about Chris Stybr (sometimes he had a genuine impression about the seeker, but this Chris could be a man or a woman or a hermaphrodite for all Manfred knew), he’d had to resort to the tried and the very likely true.
“Well, they want to get married now, so yeah,” Fiji said, with more than a touch of impatience. “If you can come?”
“On my way,” Manfred said. Typing swiftly and accurately, he created another sentence of bullshit (You will be interrupted in a task unexpectedly) and sent it off. Then he was out the door, locking it behind him as he always did. He looked both ways, just in case, but as usual there was not a car in sight on Witch Light Road. Even Fiji had vanished. He’d pulled on a hoodie; it was just cool enough that another layer didn’t seem ridiculous. Manfred craved the hint of fall. He had no idea what the Rev needed, but he was so curious about the older man and his chapel that he found himself a little excited by the summons.
He mounted the rickety wooden steps of the Wedding Chapel (defiantly constructed of wood and painted white, except for the double doors, which were brown) and stepped inside for the first time. The floor was constructed of boards, too, recently painted battleship gray. There were four long benches at the front of the chapel, which must serve as pews. They were white like the walls. Against the rear wall, there was an altar, a simple table with a picture mounted above it. Instead of Jesus being surrounded by little children, he was standing in the midst of a throng of animals. Manfred was both fascinated and curious.
A small cluster of people turned to look at him. The Rev, in his customary black suit and white shirt (complete with hat and bolo tie), held up his hand in blessing. Manfred found this disconcerting. The Rev’s narrow, lined face was dominated by small eyes overhung by shaggy brows. It was hard to tell because of the brows, but Manfred thought the Rev’s eyes were weirdly yellowish. The old man was holding a Bible and a pamphlet. There was a lectern at his side, and on it was a white certificate.
Fiji was wearing a long brown skirt and she’d pulled on a patchwork sweater over a turquoise T-shirt. She looked exactly like a mildly eccentric young woman who claimed to be a witch.
At a quick glance, he knew he hadn’t met the wedding couple before. They were both in dire need of an orthodontist, and they were painfully young. Her hair was a pleasant light brown, and his was a few shades darker. They looked poor and terrified at their own daring . . . yet excited and happy. All at the same time.
As Manfred joined the little group, he nodded to the Rev, who nodded back. Without further ado, the Rev opened the pamphlet and began to read a very bare-bones marriage service. The depth and richness of his voice was a shock to Manfred, who’d expected something much rustier. “Lisa Gray, Cole Denton, you’ve come here to be joined in holy matrimony in front of these witnesses . . .”
In wavering voices, the two impossibly young people pledged to take care of each other for the rest of their lives. When the Rev had pronounced them man and wife, the kids kissed each other and smiled, full of a foolish happiness. From the fit of the bride’s tight jeans, Manfred suspected there was another person present in utero.
Manfred joined Fiji in clapping enthusiastically, and he was smiling because the kids were smiling; but his inner cynic gave this marriage two years, at most. I’m the Scrooge of weddings, he thought. Well, his mom hadn’t set a very good example; he’d never met his father. In fact, he didn’t know who his father was.