Page 8 of Heal Me

Silent tears of relief stream down my face as I realize Aubry’s on the phone with 911. Oh my God, this nightmare is ending.

Chapter 4

Charlotte

Stepping into my mom’s kitchen, I quietly groan at the sight and smell of chocolate croissants cooling on a metal rack. Debbie Baker’s been feeding me round the clock since my discharge from the hospital.

“There’s my baby girl,” Mom says, pulling me in for a hug. We’re around the same height and build, but that’s where our resemblance ends, as she has porcelain fair skin and dark-blonde hair. I’ve been asked if I’m adopted on more than one occasion. People can be cruel, I think, and then mentally shudder. I knew nothing of cruelty until I walked out of that bar and ran into him. “Croissant?” she offers.

“No thanks.” I love everything she bakes, but too much of a good thing is still too much. “Mom, I’m ready for you to take me to my apartment.”

“Charlotte, are you sure? You just started with your therapist. Maybe you should wait a bit,” she says in a rush.

And do what? Sit around here all day gorging myself on baked goods and replaying what happened? “I’m going to pack,” I say firmly, walking down the hall before she can change her mind.

Entering my childhood bedroom, I gather the few things Mom grabbed from my apartment. I pick up a framed high school graduation picture of me and Jen, and slam it back down on the dresser with a bit too much force. Several friends stopped by the hospital—Jen included—but I told Mom I didn’t feel like visitors. I just wasn’t in the right headspace to see anyone, especially Jen. I’m not sure I’m in the right headspace to see Jen now, but we’re classmates and roommates and I thought best friends, so there’s no way around it.

We make the thirty-minute drive from Mom’s house in Germantown to Memphis. “You’ve got the pepper spray I gave you?”

“On my keychain.” She’s asked me this question three times now.

“Maybe you should practice using it.”

“I’d rather not end up in the ER having accidentally sprayed myself,” I point out. “Mom, everything’s going to be okay.”

“Of course it is,” she says, not sounding convinced.

We arrive at my apartment and I unlock the door. Doogie Howser dashes over and runs circles between my legs, purring like an engine. “I missed you,” I tell my five-year-old tabby cat as I scoop him up and give him a nuzzle. “Jen,” I call, but no response. “I didn’t see her car out front. She must be at class,” I tell my mom.

“Why don’t I wait until she gets back?” she suggests.

“Actually, I’m going to head over to Aubry’s shop. I’d like to thank her.” And ask a few questions while I’m at it. Shaking my head with a little smile, I say, “I still can’t believe you went to a psychic.” After I went missing, Mom went to the police, and that got her nowhere. Desperate, my mom scheduled a séance to try and contact my dead grandmother, Opal. And it just so happened that the woman leading the séance was none other than Aubry, whom Brad later kidnapped. Talk about a coincidence.

“I would have done anything to find you,” she says, and I’m afraid she’s going to start crying, but she pulls it together. “I’ll follow you in my car. I want to see Miss Aubry and thank her too.”

While I’m sure that’s partially true, I get the feeling Mom doesn’t want to let me out of her sight. At some point she’s going to have to, so I don’t argue.

Making the short drive downtown, my GPS guides me to the shop. Stepping out of our vehicles—Mom with a goody bag in hand—we approach the old two-story brick building. Entering Memphis Magic, I get a welcoming feeling, like cozying up beneath a warm blanket. I know nothing about magic, but suddenly I get the overwhelming urge that I should. There’s all sorts of candles, crystals, and other things I have no clue what they are, but I’m sure they’re magical. In the corner’s a cozy reading area, along with a black cat who’s giving us a not-so-friendly look.

“Welcome to Memphis Magic,” Aubry Brooks calls from behind the counter. She looks to be around my age, tall, lean, and beautiful, with long, golden-brown hair, fair skin, and expressive blue eyes. I would’ve never pegged this woman as a witch in a million years. Then again, I wouldn’t have pegged her possessed by a demon, either.

“Aubry, how can we ever repay you?” Mom says as she begins to cry and pulls Aubry in for a big bear hug.

“No repayment necessary,” Aubry says when Mom finally lets her go.

“Charlotte, it’s nice to see you,” she says, hugging me. I pull back and nervously shift the sleeve of my shirt to cover the bandage on my forearm. My dad stood watch while I was getting stitched up, and I could tell it pained him more than me, as he badly wanted to jump in and take over. Dad’s a surgeon and while I love him, I’m glad he’s returned home to Boston. Everyone hovering, while understandable, has been emotionally taxing. No, not taxing! Taxing sounds like a word a certain accountant would use.

“Aubry, you saved my life,” I tell her, willing my voice not to crack.

“We caught a lucky break, that’s for sure,” she vaguely replies.

Needing to be alone with Aubry to discuss what really happened, I say, “Mom, I promise I’m fine. Go on to work.”

“Where do you work?” Aubry asks.

Mom answers by reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a box, handing it to Aubry. She opens it to find six chocolate croissants.

“Now this is the type of repayment I will accept,” Aubry says, grabbing one and taking a bite. “Delicious.”

---