“That must be Paul,” Delly announced, getting up. “He’s here to pick me up because I’ve got a family thing tonight. He also finished working on your car,” she said to Sian, “so you have to come with me.”
“No,” Sian moaned. “He can’t keep fixing it and not letting me pay him.”
“Have him bill me,” I told her. “I can write it off as a business expense since I’m here for Benji, which extends to you too, seeing as how you’re his only means of transportation.”
It was bullshit, but who cared. She was a nice person who needed a little help after sorting out her life. It was the least I could do.
“He didn’t do it for Sian or Benji, he did it for me,” Delly explained, and then gave me a dismissive wave. “You don’t have to pay him, Shaw. Don’t worry about it.”
“Your brother’s labor and thoughtfulness, his and your father’s, should be taken into consideration. Don’t think his time isn’t worth something.”
She appeared to be mulling it over, as though she hadn’t considered that before.
“Have him call my office and ask for Owen. Please. I’ll pay for it,” I insisted. “And don’t take no for an answer or I’ll have to go to the shop. I have faith in you.”
She nodded and then bolted for the door.
Sian stood up and studied me a moment.
“What?”
Slow shake of her head. “Nothing. You’re an interesting man, is all.”
I shrugged.
She shrugged back. “We always have dinner at the pub on Fridays, so I’ll expect you both around six.”
“Remember,” Benji said with a yawn, and his head clunked against my shoulder, “we have to be at the Eaton house at four.”
“That’s right,” she agreed. “I’ll be back at three forty-five, then, and we can––”
“We’ll pick you up, and the three of us can go,” I informed her.
Her face scrunched up like I’d declared the Earth was flat. “But Shaw, we don’t know what your energy will do to whatever spirits are in the house.”
I gave her a slight smile. “I guess we’re gonna find out, huh?”
She gave me a look that I suspected was supposed to be scary.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Merida from that Disney movie?” I offered, which let her know, in a roundabout way, I found her about as terrifying as a fluffy baby bunny. “Did you ever dress up as her for Halloween?”
The disgusted noise she made, coupled with the throwing up of her hands, made me chuckle as she stomped out of the room.
“No?” I yelled after her. “You don’t see it?”
The kitchen door was slammed expressively, and I was snickering until Benji said, “I think I almost got winged by a bullet in the forest when I went out to talk to Harold a week and a half ago.”
“You want to run that by me again, now?”
“Harold,” he repeated, trying to get comfortable and failing, if the soft whine was any indication. “Could you”—he shifted and scooted—“yeah, like that. Now, lift your arm.”
I raised my left arm, and he tucked himself in closer. His sigh was long and satisfied.
I had both a question and a comment in my head. I went with the question first. “Who’s Harold?”
“He’s a hermit, I guess is the word people here in town use, but he’s actually a hedge witch, solitary you know, but perfectly happy. He has lots of spirit company, but he doesn’t mind some living company now and then, and he makes wonderful tea, the only blend except for her own that Sian will keep in her shop.”
I digested all that, but my brain was locked on one part. “Hedge witch?”
“A solitary practitioner,” he explained with a yawn. “Yes.”
“So he’s a witch?”
“He prefers the term healer, as he does make some excellent tinctures and tonics. They work wonders. Once the rain stops, I’ll call Stewart and ask to borrow his Jeep. It’s the only way to get up the trail. Harold lives at the base of a hill, and the road, if you can call it a road, is always either washed out or knee-deep in mud.”
My mind was running through everything he said. “And you’re saying that while you were up there last, visiting Harold––”
“I needed him to look at some artifacts I found in a yard, and since the artifacts were purported to be Siuslaw, and he’s half Siuslaw on his mother’s side, I figured he would know what he was looking at.”
“Were they real artifacts?”
“No, and he was a bit annoyed, but––”
“Did he hear the shot?”
“What shot?”
I needed to stop growling at him, but he wasn’t making it easy. “When someone fired at you.”
“He did, yeah. I even explained that maybe they were shooting at him, but he made the face you’ve been making all day, like I was out of my mind.”