35. Beating The Curse

After her discussion with Deb Citlali, when they had both been spooked by the curse, Kathy emailed Gordon Stormont. She didn’t believe in curses, she told him. She didn’t believe in ghosts, either, but had always felt it prudent not to tempt fate by boasting about it.

She recalled the night she spent in an allegedly haunted house with a cub reporter. The teenager had started the night making wisecracks, he’d shouted taunts and challenged the spirits to show themselves, but he’d ended the night shivering in Kathy’s arms, feeling icy blasts, hearing whispers and crying with fear. She had kept her skepticism to herself that night, and ever since.

She didn’t believe in curses, but ...

Gordon Stormont had not laughed at her concerns. He assured her he would find the old family book that held details of the rituals and share the information with her.

As she drove away from her meeting with Ashbury, munching on old pretzels, her phone pinged and she pulled over to check the message. Gordon was back and had found the old book. “Come to the house as soon as possible,” he wrote. “Want to share what I found.”

Her stomach lurched. Whether because of his urgent tone or the dry salty mass in her mouth she couldn’t tell.

...

The butler greeted her at the imposing front door and led her down the hallway. Stormont was sitting in a sunny breakfast room, in front of a very large, very old book propped on a reading stand.

“Kathy, how lovely to see you!” He looked tanned and rested. How different his business trips must be to mine, she thought.

“Likewise,” she replied. “Sorry to bother you, but I am a little worried about what this curse means for me.” She gave a little laugh but her eyes were serious.

He gestured to a chair beside him and, when she was seated, leaned forward and carefully turned a page of the book. He wore thin white cotton gloves and held the book steady with one hand as he turned the brittle, parchment page.

“Here we are. The good news is you’re on the upside of the curse, if there is such a thing. If the man bolts and leaves the woman to die on her own, he is cursed with bad luck for eternity – he and his family and their descendants. I knew that part, but studying the book today I found parts I hadn’t read.

A passage had been added at a later date. “It’s set apart from the main tract about the curse that befalls the man who dishonors the tradition. It deals with the consequences for everyone concerned if someone helps the woman after she is stabbed. The fact that there is this addendum must mean some women were attacked but survived. Of course, these variations would only apply if the ritual is botched or interrupted or otherwise sullied. If it’s done correctly and the woman dies, there’s no need for them.”

Kathy opened her mouth to respond, but thought better of it.

“Ah, here it is, a passage on how the curse manifests itself if another woman holds her as she dies.” He pointed to her with a flourish. “That would be you!”

He paused. Kathy hoped it was for dramatic effect, and not because something shocking was to follow, but he smiled and resumed.

“The exact words are “she who holds the maid gently as Life leaves her body and her Soul ascends to Heaven will be blessed with goode luck in finding a Goode Man who truly loves her.” He traced the words with a gloved finger. “Let me see, blah blah, yes, here it is, “she will have goode fortune and go with grace and her Family, too, shall be blessed for as long as they walk in the paths of Humility and Righteousness.”

Kathy noisily let out the breath she had been holding. She repeated the quaint language, particularly the part about “finding a Goode Man.” She thought about Sandy Brampton and the way his eyes changed color slightly depending on his mood. She thought about how he occasionally touched her hand, and she thought how nice it would be to have him sitting with her right now. She smiled at Gordon Stormont, and he smiled back.

“Good,” she said a little gruffly. “Good stuff. Thank you, Gordon. Thank you so much. I have more questions, but give me a second until I can breathe again!”

“Were you really so worried?”

“This is all new to me,” she said. “I’m not a big fan of rituals and fantasy and mumbo jumbo, no offense, but this is not just about make believe. This is about bloody murder, and I guess it kind of got to me.”

He rang for tea, and for the next hour they explored the ritual, he leafed back and forth through the book, explaining illustrations or peculiar words and spellings.

Kathy was fascinated with everything, from the musty odor to the whispery sound of pages as they turned. Some pages were more faded, leading her to wonder if the book had once been on display.

She picked up additional details. The parents of a maid who rejected a Stormont suitor, even if he had taken her life, were expected to furnish a written apology and absolve him of his ‘crime of passion’ to avoid ill will between families. “Screw that!” was her reaction to that, and Stormont laughed out loud.

As the iron gates of the estate swung closed behind her car, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

She rolled down the window and turned up the radio and felt grateful to be living in the 21st century. She thought about her next meeting with Sandy, he was a Goode Man. She chuckled to think that she had been frightened of the curse, then laughed to admit she was pleased that that same curse was promising her luck in love. Did she really believe in curses and blessings? About as much as I believe in ghosts, she thought ruefully. In other words ... maybe.