Page 11 of Carnal Magic
Corrine shook her head. “No, she wasn’t pregnant then. I don’t rightly know what happened, dear. I don’t think Miss Martha would have ever caused her such fear, but Rebekah swore that she’d never come back. Not even to her mother’s funeral, though of course Martha outlived her by over thirty years. That’s another facet of the curse. Redwine women who move away tend to live very short lives.”
“Except for Martha,” I whispered. “Because she stayed?”
“Exactly. Her mother, Katherine, lived to be at least ninety as well. They both stayed here on the family land. Even the last few years of her life, Miss Martha was hale and hearty enough it wouldn’t have surprised me to hear that she still climbed that rugged hill for fun. I used to joke that the only reason she died was because she’d finally decided to give the devil his due, and she was going to enjoy the hell out of every moment of what was waiting for her.”
She leaned over and patted my knee, laughing. “Not the devil in the Christian sense. Don’t get me confused with Ingrid.”
“What do you mean then?”
Corrine sighed, still looking out over her yard and beyond. Her house was high enough that we could see the entire Main Street below. No wonder she knew everything that went on in town. She had the perfect vantage point from her front porch. “Nothing specific, I suppose, but there’s always been a sense of… darkness looming over Redwine Mountain. Tragedy, death, and sadness. I don’t know who Miss Martha ever loved other than her daughter. She didn’t have friends in town. I don’t know who Rebekah’s father was. Granted, I was her daughter’s age, but I asked Mama and she didn’t know either. Not for sure, though there was talk, naturally.
“And that’s the other facet of the curse. People talk. Sam Woodward used to spend a lot of time on the Redwine land. So did Roger’s daddy back in the day. Several other men too. The whole holler buzzed about Miss Martha’s men, all young, handsome, and unmarried. Then she got pregnant and nobody ever stepped forward to take responsibility.
“Even more suspect, to me at least, they all became successful. Roger’s father started the bank. Sam played professional baseball for years, and then went to law school and excelled at that too. While she stayed home, a recluse for the most part. Oh, she’d come to town once a month and cause a stir. People would come to town just to watch her walk around the grocery store or to see which of the boutiques she might visit. She always participated in the Sweetbriar Fall Festival and ran a booth with herbal concoctions and bath salts that were to die for. Literally, she’d have people lined up at her booth an hour or longer before she even arrived, desperate to get a little something from her. Otherwise, I don’t know that she spoke to a living soul up on that solitary mountain of hers.”
She heaved a sigh and turned to meet my gaze. “That’s the Redwine curse. To me, a fate worse than death. Alone on the mountain with only the occasional human contact. No husband to talk to. No children and grandchildren to cook for or visit with. No friends over for a sip of whiskey or a nice pot of tea with a juicy tidbit from town. I’d love for you to stay in Sweetbriar and honor the Redwine name but, forgive me for saying this, I hope you escape the mountain before it can reel you in too.”
8
Saddened by what I’d learned about my family, I drove back up toward Main Street. As I made the turn, I saw Drew and Amy Woodward walking arm-in-arm down the street from their building. She wore an old-fashioned black and white polka dot rockabilly dress with black pumps. Drew wore a somber charcoal suit and tie. I wasn’t sure if they were going out on the town for a date night—or coming home from a funeral.
I pulled over and rolled my window down. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Woodward.”
“Miss Redwine!” Amy released her husband’s arm and came closer, leaning down to smile at me through the car door. “How lovely to see you. Are you finding everything you need? Is there anything we can help you with?”
“Please, call me Arwena. I was just wondering…” I paused, trying to think of a non-crazy way to ask who the food fairy was. “Uh, has anyone made any deliveries up to the house? That you’re aware of?”
She turned to Drew. “Honey, did anyone have a delivery up at Redwine’s?”
“No, I don’t believe so. Did you get a package?”
“Not exactly,” I replied. “I had some goodies left on the porch. I thought maybe you’d sent over some muffins with your grandfather. I saw him yesterday so it could have been him. I just wanted to thank whoever sent them.”
“Huh, that’s odd. Pop didn’t say he’d been out your way.”
I didn’t mention his warning about staying away from his married grandson. “Are there any other neighbors that might have dropped off something for me?”
Drew leaned down, his forehead crinkled. “No, we’re the closest to you, but we’re a ten-minute drive from Miss Martha’s.”
“Mr. Woodward was walking yesterday. Surely he didn’t walk so far home?”
“He was probably fishing. You know the bridge at the bottom of the valley? He parks his old Ford truck off to the side and fishes every day, weather permitting.”
That was still a good hike up the steeper part of the road to get to Martha’s house. Maybe old Sam Woodward had the same kind of vitality that Martha had enjoyed. Remembering her sensual bedroom, I suddenly felt my cheeks flushing. I quickly changed the subject. “Just curious, where’s the closestPopeye’sfrom here?”
Amy laughed and nudged her husband. “That’s Drew’s favorite place for lunch. There’s one in Little Rock. I swear he’d eat it every day if I didn’t pack him a lunch.”
Drew’s blush matched mine. “There’s also one up in Rogers, I think, but that’s quite a drive from here.”
Even Little Rock was at least an hour away. Probably closer to two hours down the steep, narrow roads. Nobody had picked up some drive-thru and brought it to me still hot and crispy.
They were both looking at me, curiosity mixed with something closer to anxiety. Because they knew something strange might be going on? Or because they were afraid I’d take all the Redwine money out of the bank and blow out of town as fast as possible?
I reached up to my visor to grab my sunglasses, making a big show of putting them on and smiling as if I didn’t have a care in the world. “You know this New Orleans gal has a craving for some good, spicy fried chicken. I’ll pick up somePopeye’sin Little Rock when I head home.”
“Don’t be silly.” Amy smiled brightly, even clapping her hands together. “I make a pretty good fried chicken, if I do say so myself, and I always make chicken for Sunday dinner. You’re welcome to join us tomorrow.”
“Thank you for the invitation, but…” I sighed, not wanting to hurt her feelings. I liked them well enough but sitting for hours and talking over food was a commitment that I didn’t know I wanted to make. Especially if I wasn’t staying. It would be nice to have friends, but we had so little in common. I didn’t know how long I could sit with their saccharine happiness and not say something snarky. “I might be ready to head home tomorrow.”
