More Than Magic: Three Sisters, #2

By Barbara Bartholomew

Airdrie is the weird sister, the one who dreams forecasting dreams that scare the whole community of Whippoorwill Corners in 1940's Oklahoma. But to Gabe Cabot, community 'bad boy' and charmer, she's sweet, naive and almost like a little sister to a man who has nothing but bad memories of his own family. But Airdire, who has been hopelessly in love with Gabe since she was sixteen, has a dream about him and knows if she doesn't act quickly she will lose him forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Bartholomew
• Release date: Jan 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507065136

Barbara Bartholomew

Barbara Bartholomew lives in western Oklahoma, dividing her time between the farm which has been in the family for over a hundred years and a 1940s house in a neighboring small town. She frequently draws on this background and her years living in Texas for her books. She is the author of more than forty published novels and dozens of short stories.

Book preview

Chapter One

The tall stone castle lay ancient and empty behind her, occupied only by the vengeful ghosts of other times. Airdrie, who had been trapped inside for what seemed dozens of years and finally released she knew not how, felt the wind move through her long silken gown as she ran, then floated, then flew through the air. She was free and empowered to seek her own future and as she stroked through the air with her long arms, she knew a release from fear and a kind of elation.

Sometimes it seemed she was swimming in the deep blue of the ocean she’d never seen and, then again, she flew through the night, seeing below her the rural community where she’d lived all her life, its houses dark and people sleeping.

Then she spotted the light of a motorcycle moving through the night down the highway, leaving Whippoorwill Corners and all its people behind and she knew who it was that rode away. Gabe, the man she’d loved since she was sixteen. The only man she could ever love.

And she fell with a plop, body and mind weighted down by gravity, and flying and castles abandoned. She rolled over in bed, realizing though the night was chilly, she was too weighted down with thick quilts. Pushing them aside she got to her feet. As happened too often, she awakened full of dread.

Airdrie Wagstaff’s nights were busy with dreams, many of them nightmares, but she knew some were special, what she called true dreams and this had been one of them. Gabe with all his darkness since the war years where he’d left his outgoing personality and zany sense of wit somewhere on the battlefields of France and Germany, often talked of leaving everything familiar behind and going off alone on his bike. Now she knew as certainly as if he’d told her goodbye that sometime in the night while she’d lain in her solitary bed dreaming, he’d gone.

His departure might not mean a whole lot to the people of the community where they’d both grown up, but to Airdrie it was everything. Even if he never noticed her as more than a friend, still she’d known he was nearby, working at the garage near the store with his friend and her brother-in-law. She only had to drop by to know he was still safe and alive, something that during the terrible years of the second world war she’d hadn’t been certain of, nor in the years when he’d lingered in some elsewhere she didn’t know, never sure whether he’d ever come back.

She’d been so pleased when earlier in the year he had returned and she’d promised fate that she would ask no more than to know he was home and safe. But apparently she had unconsciously broken that commitment because now he was gone, perhaps for good this time.

Barely conscious that tears ran down her cheeks, she slipped on her old winter coat over her long nightgown and without putting on as much as her bedroom slippers walked through the cold rooms of the house she shared with father and sister. At the front door, she unlatched the lock and stepped outside, feeling the cold of the December wind whipping the length of the flannel gown where it dropped below her coat. Her feet turned to ice, but she couldn’t bear to go back into the house with its enclosing walls that sometimes offered safety from a large and threatening world, but tonight seemed a prison.

She didn’t know how long she lingered there on the porch that circled the house her parents had built so many years ago, but the sun had not even peeked a wintry look over the landscape when she heard the sound of the door opening and footsteps coming toward her.

Dad, she said in acknowledgment, wishing he would go away and leave her alone.

Airdrie, honey, he said softly.

Cameron Wagstaff had been older than most when he married Lydia Valen and came to live with her on the family farm. Now after years of marriage, three daughters, and the loss that had devastated them all when her mom died not so long ago, his hair was white and he walked with a slight stoop to his shoulders. Another bad dream? he asked.

She nodded. They all knew about her dreams, the terrible true dreams she’d had since childhood. And in a way, they all were afraid of what she might tell them since so often they predicted a reality they might not want to hear. He’s gone, she said. Gabe got on his bike tonight and rode away.

Her feelings for the troubled young ex-soldier were known not only to family members, but to the more observant in the community. Only Gabe had never seemed to see.

Maybe its best, Dad said and she wanted to hit the father she loved dearly.

No, she argued. I think he may be riding to his death.  But that was the way with her dreams. Sometimes they told her what was about to happen, but they didn’t tell her what to do about it.

You’re freezing. Cameron Wagstaff urged his middle daughter back into the house, lighting the gas stove that heated the living room, while her younger sister emerged from her own bedroom to bring a quilt to tuck around her sister.

She’d done it again. She’d awakened the household. But as she sat shivering while Cairo made hot cocoa for her, she couldn’t help being glad for the company. She thought of Sydney, her other sister who now lived with her new husband on the farm two miles away. She wished Sydney was here too. She might know what to do about Gabe.

By morning Gabe Cabot had left Oklahoma far behind and was deep into Texas. With each mile that passed under the wheels of his bike, he felt another pound of the load he carried on his back fade away.

The load was the past, the terrible growing up years and the even more terrible time of being a soldier. He hadn’t made much of a success of his life thus far, neither as a kid, nor as a grown man. Now at thirty, he was leaving it all behind and starting all over again with no ties and no obligations.

He hadn’t left a note for his only friend and business partner. He’d been preparing Lucas for his departure for months now, though he wasn’t sure his warnings had been taken seriously. But if he’d tried one last talk, then Lucas would have done his best to convince him otherwise. And Lucas had his own life to get on with now that he’d married and had a home and farm and everything. He was glad to leave the business they’d started together to the new Mr. and Mrs. Dade. Lucas and Sydney looked to have a good future ahead of them.

Everybody would be better off without him.

Having traveled half the night, he stopped early for breakfast at a café in a little north Texas town. The waitress, about the age of his mother, served him ham, eggs and biscuits along with a big cup of coffee and some advice. Those things are dangerous, she said.

What things? he asked, taking a big gulp of the hot coffee.

Them motorcycles. She gave a nod at his bike, visible through the plate glass window.

Hey! I was in the war. I know dangerous.

The expression on her face became sympathetic. My boy died over there. He always wanted one of them motorcycles, but I said no, they’re too dangerous. She touched the top of his head with a single pat like he was a little boy. Wish I’d let him have it.

Real sorry, ma’am, he said, working hard at not feeling anything. He ate his breakfast as quickly as he could, got on his bike and rode on, not stopping for gas until he got to the next town.

Sydney usually stopped by after school just to make sure they were all right before going to her own home. Her husband worked another hour at his garage, sometimes longer if somebody needed car repairs real quick, so this was the time she spent with her family.

Normally Dad and Cairo would be here too and they’d have a cup of coffee or cocoa and talk over the news, but this afternoon the two of them were off after a runaway bull who had thundered through a fence on to a neighbor’s farm, so Airdrie was alone in the kitchen when she heard the car drive into the yard.

Quickly she poured the cocoa simmering on the stove into mugs and put some of the molasses cookies she’d baked earlier on to a plate and carried them in to put them on the coffee table next to the living room sofa.

Sydney looked tired, but spending the day with a classroom full of fourth, fifth and sixth graders could do that to a person. Airdrie who loved children one at a time admired her sister who could juggle three classes and still have time to notice each individual. It was amazing that Sydney, her long hair confined in a matronly bun and wearing a business-like gray suit with heels could look so composed at the end of the day, but she knew her sister well enough to see the etchings of weariness in her face.

Only two years older than her, still Sydney had always mothered her, the strong and steady person who protected her fey little sister from bullying at school and from too much imagination in the night. As small children, the sisters had shared a room and when she awakened, terrified by her dreams and the darkness around her, Sydney had held her hand and comforted her. That was, of course, before Cairo, eight years younger, was even born.

By the time Cairo came along, she was able to deal with her fears in her  own fashion, but still was grateful for Sydney’s strong presence. Maybe it was just being a big sister, but to Airdrie it seemed that Sydney could deal with most anything.

Hard day? she asked sympathetically as her sister sank gracefully on to the green sofa that Mom and Aunt Nora had bought on sale five years ago. Like everything in the house, the comfortable living room furniture was a constant, not unpleasant reminder of the dearly loved mother and aunt they’d lost.

Only the usual. Sydney daintily picked up a cookie and began to nibble its edges as Airdrie pushed her hot drink a little closer.

Dad and Cairo are trying to get the bull back in our pasture.

Sydney grinned. Saw them as I went by. Looks like the bull is winning so far. I did offer to help, but they sent me on my way.

I can just see it now, Airdrie countered. You in your high heels and good clothes chasing around the pasture.

Sydney sighed. Well, it was the thing that drove me to teacher’s college. I figured I’d rather work inside away from the wind and dust.

To each her own. Airdrie enjoyed her own task of cooking and keeping house for the family, but she also liked working in the garden, feeding the calves and gathering the eggs their Rhode Island Red hens laid each day. She liked everything about the farm and couldn’t imagine how her older sister dealt with the stress of being around people hour after hour, even if most of those were children.

Sydney took a sip of cocoa and some of the strain went out of her face. Janie’s Suzie is still having nightmares.

Airdrie wasn’t surprised. Suzie had been one of two little girls trapped inside the gym when it caught fire last fall. 

I was thinking you might talk to her, talk about bad dreams and how you deal with them.

Be happy to. Airdrie nodded, though she sincerely hoped that the girl’s dreams were not in the same category as hers.

Silence fell between them, not uncomfortable in any way because they knew each other so well. She guessed that Sydney was thinking how to bring up something difficult.

Airdrie decided to help out. She looked around as the cozy living room with its warm stove, drawing comfort from light and familiarity as she’d not been able to the night before. You don’t have to tell me that Gabe has left.

Sydney drew in a deep breath of relief. I stopped by the garage after school and Lucas told me his things were gone and his bike. Maybe he’s just taking a day off.

She shook her head. I dreamed he rode away and that he intends to keep on going. She didn’t tell about the castle and the flying because she had no idea what it meant. And she didn’t’ say she was awake when she dreamed about Gabe." Surprisingly her voice kept steady and didn’t quiver at all. Now that the worst had happened, she had so little to fear. Gabe was gone. Most likely he would never come back and she wouldn’t even know what had happened to him.

Your dreams aren’t always right, Sydney insisted, putting down her cup and ignoring the cookies. We have to be optimistic.

Airdrie didn’t argue. There was no point.

They sat quietly talking about other things until Cairo and Dad came blowing in the house with a gust of wind and the youngest sister grabbed a handful of cookies and asked when was supper because she was starved.

We got him back, Cameron Wagstaff announced, settling heavily into the big chair reserved for his use. He wasn’t so thin now and was beginning to put back on some of the weight he’d lost after his wife’s sudden death. Airdrie was grateful to realize that he’d come a long way since then and no longer went about his friends in the community discussing what should be family secrets.

Got that look, he said. Norther will blow in tonight. Might snow.

Dad was good at feeling the weather before it happened. This skill came from spending so much of his life outdoors. Maybe eventually Cairo, who was the farmer among the girls, would be the same. But now she seemed intent only on gobbling down cookies and cocoa.

Airdrie listened to the others talk and wondered if it would be cold and snowy wherever Gabe would be tonight. She couldn’t guess. He’d gone beyond her reach. He was on his own.

Chapter Two

He slept that night along the road, but knew with winter creeping up on him, he’d not be able to do that for long. He’d used most of his savings on the Indian motorcycle, but he still had a couple of hundred dollars left and so felt rich.

Tonight he would spend a few dollars at a tourist court to get a good night’s sleep and clean up. He bought bread and sandwich meat at a little country store and went around as many small towns as he could and along in the afternoon turned due south. With the winter cold chasing him, he might as well head for warmer climes.

Surprisingly he was feeling different already, his rangy, long-limbed body loose and comfortable, all the tension and tightness banished. This was what he needed, to leave all the worries and troubles behind and smell the air of different country and chat with his old ease with people he didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

When he treated himself to supper that night in a modest little café near to his tourist court, the waitress was young and pretty