Eileen Wilks - Ritual Magic

Everything looked old. Old and tired. Except for the sheet of folded white paper on top of the books. She picked it up and opened it. The writing was small and precise, almost like printing:

When I met you, you were twenty-one and long past needing help to ward off the darkness. We dated for several weeks before you trusted me enough to tell me that you used to sleep with a flashlight under the covers. Perhaps the darkness has become frightening again. If not, please forgive me for guessing wrong.

You’re obviously past the age for needing Fluffy, yet I know you cherished him. I hope having him and a few other familiar things nearby will help a little as you adjust to what has to be a very strange new life.

It was signed Edward .

It hadn’t been Mequi who thought of the flashlight. It had been him. Edward. The man she was married to. The man she’d made those three daughters with. Her stomach felt tight and anxious, but some other part of her felt easier. She didn’t understand.

He sounded like a nice man, though. Maybe that was why she felt a tiny bit better. She didn’t want a husband, nice or not, but Edward Yu seemed to know that.

Still, she didn’t want to think about him. She folded the note up again and tucked it inside the Christmas photo album. She was not ready to look at the pictures in either album. She was glad she had them, but she wasn’t ready to see how faded and old those pictures looked. She picked up the Magic 8 Ball and thought hard: Will I get all of my memories back? And shook it.

First it said, “Reply hazy, try again.” When she did, it said, “Better not tell you now.” That made her mad enough to throw it across the room, but she didn’t. She didn’t have many things from before . She wouldn’t break one just because it made her mad.

Her bladder reminded her that she still needed to get dressed, so she opened the top drawer. Pajamas. Panties. Bras. She grimaced. She’d started wearing a bra this past summer, which was really a whole bunch of summers ago. She hadn’t especially needed one, but all the girls wore them, so she had to, too. But these bras were bigger than what she’d been wearing.

Of course they were. She had boobs now. When she’d gone to the bathroom at the hospital she’d checked them out. They were not very good boobs, being kind of droopy. That made her mad. At some point she’d probably had great boobs, but now she didn’t remember it.

Funny. She didn’t exactly like her body, but she didn’t hate it as much as she had at first. Maybe Sam had done something about that, too.

A bra would help with the droopiness. She sighed and took one out.

Even though she didn’t remember this body, it seemed to know what it was doing. It was taller than she remembered, but that didn’t make her trip over things. Muscle memory, one of the doctors had called it. Her muscles remembered how to walk, and it turned out they remembered how to put on a bra, too.

The panties were not the plain white cotton she was used to. These were grown-lady panties, several of them with lace, a couple of them nothing but lace. She pulled out a pair of black ones and put them on the bed, then looked for stuff to wear on top of the bra and panties.

The next drawer held shorts and tops. Good enough. She got out some khaki shorts and a green top.

Someone knocked on her door. She jumped. “Yes?”

“It’s Lily Yu,” a female voice said. “The FBI agent. Rule says you’re awake, and I . . . may I come in?”

A little thrill of panic shot through her. “If he knows I’m awake, how come it’s you instead of—” She flushed. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re more comfortable with Rule, but I wanted to talk to you before I leave.”

“I’m not dressed.”

“There’s a robe in the closet.”

Lily Yu wasn’t going to go away. She lived here. Reluctantly Julia went to the closet. It was small and full of clothes, but not like anything she’d ever worn. Grown-up clothes. They made her sad, so she was glad when she found the robe. That was pretty—lots of fuzzy watercolor flowers all over, and silky. Maybe it was real silk. She slipped it on and stroked the slinky fabric. Real silk was expensive. Was she rich? Or maybe her . . . maybe Edward was.

Julia scowled. She was not going to think about him. “Okay,” she said to the stranger on the other side of the door.

It opened. The woman who was supposed to be her daughter was wearing black slacks and a stretchy black shirt under a bright blue jacket. Her hair was long and shiny, but she’d pulled it back in a plain old ponytail. It didn’t look like she’d used any makeup. She really ought to. With a little effort she’d be gorgeous. Right now she mostly looked tired.

She did not look anything like Julia. Julia had a heart-shaped face. Lily Yu’s face was more oval, plus she had a better chin. Julia hated her chin. “Hello,” Julia said cautiously.

“Hi. I, ah . . . this is pretty weird, isn’t it?”

“It is super weird! I mean, I’m supposed to be your—your—” She couldn’t even say it.

“But you aren’t.” Miss Yu’s voice was matter-of-fact. “You look just like my mother, but you’re someone else. Someone named Julia Lin, who I never really had a chance to know. We both have to get to know each other, don’t we?”

“I guess so.” Julia tucked her hair behind her ear and wished she’d had a chance to brush it. Lily Yu looked very pulled together, even if she wasn’t wearing any makeup. “Miss Yu—”

The woman winced. “Could you call me Lily? I know that’s not what you’re used to, and I know we’re basically strangers, but it sets off my freak-o-meter for you to call me Miss Yu.”

Freak-o-meter. Julia liked that. She repeated the phrase mentally so she’d remember it. “I’ll try, but you have to promise not to get mad if I forget.”

“Deal.”

“I asked Mr. Turner if I could stay here, but I didn’t ask you if that was okay. I should have.”

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t have a chance to ask me, did you?”

“Because you’ve been working. Trying to find whoever did this to me.”

She nodded. “And to some other people, and I have to leave pretty soon so I can keeping working on it. Rule will stay here today, unless something happens that changes things. I know you feel better when he’s around.”

Julia nodded, feeling awkward.

Miss Yu smiled a little bit. It was the kind of smile grown-ups use when something’s sort of funny, but mostly oh, geez . “I feel better when he’s around, too. Ah . . . I wanted to see you before I left, only now I’m not sure what to say. What to do.”

That made two of them.

Miss Yu—Lily—looked around the small room. Her gaze lingered a minute on the bed. “I see you found something to wear. The woman you grew up to be is . . . was a bit of a clotheshorse. Very stylish. But her clothes probably aren’t the sort of things you’re used to wearing.”

“They’re pretty, but they aren’t . . . they just . . . I don’t know how to be an old woman!” All at once she felt horridly close to tears.

“Then don’t try. You don’t have to make yourself fit what you think your body says about you.” This smile wasn’t oh, geez , but it wasn’t happy, either. “You may want to get some different clothes later. Are you hungry? The kitchen’s out of commission right now, but we’ve got—”

A ridiculously loud noise interrupted her. “What’s that?” Julia had to raise her voice to be heard.

“I think it’s the wet saw. They use it to cut tiles. Rule did tell you that the house is a disaster area, didn’t he? We’re having a lot of work done. Most of the work’s downstairs, but they’ll be up here, too, trying to get at least one of the bathrooms finished. That’s why you don’t get eggs this morning. No kitchen. But we’ve got croissants and fruit and cereal and bacon.”