The Line (Witching Savannah, #1)(15)

I smiled at her. Her eyes were clear, her voice was steady, and she seemed to be far more present than she had been in months. Her face was fresh. Her fair hair had new lowlights. Her nails were flawlessly manicured, and a slight tremor in her hands told me that she hadn’t had her first cocktail of the day. Ginny’s death had brought on an impromptu family reunion, and our house was packed to the rafters, buzzing not only with the extended Taylor family but with MacGregors, Ryans, and Duvals, known to us Savannah Taylors collectively, and somewhat derogatorily, as “the cousins.” I wondered if Ellen were trying to put on her best front for the larger family group, or if the house was simply too crowded for her to be able to raid the liquor cabinet surreptitiously.

Despite the unforgiving light and a decade or more of heavy drinking, Aunt Ellen was still beautiful. More beautiful than any other of the Taylor women, except, of course, Maisie. I stood and brushed the grass, moss, and sandy earth from my jeans. She offered me her arm, and I took it. “You’ve missed the worst of the gathering, you know,” she began as we moved our way along the McDonough Street edge of the park. “The part where the cousins all tried to act like they gave a damn about Ginny’s…passing.” She looked a bit guilty. “I shouldn’t be talking like this.”

“It’s okay. She hated me. I must admit, her death isn’t going to create any great void in my life,” I said. I didn’t really mean a word of it; I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to resolve my feelings toward Ginny and what had happened to her.

“It’s terrible. I know I should care more, but Ginny wasn’t just mean to you. She didn’t have a kind word for anyone since something like 1984. She was old and bitter and angry to the end.” Ellen stopped herself.

“But how did she get to be that way?” I asked. “I know she had too much responsibility to have a family of her own, but I don’t think she really wanted one anyway. I don’t understand what made her so hard.”

“I’ve got a theory. Now it’s only a theory, mind you, but I think I may be right,” Ellen began. “Ginny was a handsome woman, but not what I’d call beautiful, and the men weren’t exactly lining up for her. She was intelligent too, but shrewdly intelligent. Not a great intellect. She certainly lacked your amazing imagination. There was nothing that called her out into the larger world, so being chosen as an anchor gave her a tremendous sense of purpose and validation. But instead of using it as an opportunity to expand her horizons, she shut herself off, and as her world shrank she began to see herself as larger and more important than she had any right to. She saw herself as the sun, and expected us to spend our lives orbiting around her.” Ellen stopped talking as a tourist trolley pulled up alongside us. Something about its arrival put an end to her candor. “What a fine pair we are, speaking so poorly of the dead,” she concluded. Her forehead creased and she folded her arms around herself.

“Will the police be able to release the body in time for the memorial?” I asked, trying to bring her back out of her private thoughts.

“I don’t know, dear. Oliver is working on getting the body released, but I’m afraid it might be a few more days or even weeks before we’ll be able to lay Ginny to rest.” She paused. “I have to apologize to you, Mercy. I couldn’t help you when you were hurt.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault, Aunt Ellen.”

“But it was, in a way,” she began to tear up. “I wasn’t reachable when Iris called me. After you found Ginny, that is. I’m sure you know why I wasn’t home, why none of you knew where I was. Hell, I didn’t even know where I was. If I hadn’t been passed out, I would have answered my phone. I am going to quit drinking. I know, I’ve tried before…But this time I’m going to do it.” She looked squarely at me. “For real, this time, sugar. Do you hear me?”

I desperately wanted to believe her. For her sake. I smiled and tried to pull her to me, but she pushed away.

“I’m not through,” she said, determination putting lines on her forehead. Her knitted eyebrows exposed her cornflower blue eyes and made them seem somehow larger. “I couldn’t help you. Do you understand? I tried to heal you. Iris and Connor brought you to me before taking you to the hospital. It should have been easy. You had a jolt, but you’re young and strong and healthy, and I should have been able to heal you. Instead, I could have let you die.” The tears flowed heavily down her cheeks.

“I wasn’t hurt that bad!” I exclaimed. “Just knocked for a loop.”

“You were unconscious for days,” Ellen said.

It was true, helping me should have been a no-brainer for her. Out of my mother’s three siblings, I was most in awe of Ellen’s talents. I’d seen her stop bleeding cold and regulate the beat of a heart. Once I witnessed her bring someone back from the brink of death. I was scared to go near her for days after that. And maybe she had caught death’s attention by straddling the threshold between life and death for too long, because her own son and husband were killed in a traffic pileup a week later. I was certain that she blamed herself for what had happened. Nowadays she spent most of her time hiding from the sun with a cold glass of something strong in her hand.

“I don’t know what’s happened to me. I can barely patch up a scraped knee on my own these days,” Ellen continued. “You were in the hospital for a full day before I could locate your essence. Even then, I needed Maisie’s help to pull you back from your coma. But you wait and see; I’m going to get things back together. You have faith in me even if no one else will, okay, darlin’?”