Amityville Magic: Once Upon a Time There Was Fairy Tale

By Renay Jordan

Amityville doesn't have the best reputation when it comes to Spirits but if there's anyone who can change that, it's the Anastasio family. They've ruled Long Island for decades with an iron fist and, every now and then, a little bit of magic. They know what most people don't: that Spirits need a little bit of help here on earth, and if we're willing to give it to them, they're willing to help us in return. Lorelei Anastasio calls them favors. Tiffany Bennett calls them spells and is certain her brother, Adrian, has been under one for the last ten years of his life.
When Lorelei shows up at Nana's funeral Adrian is baffled by her sudden reappearance in Amityville. Did she come back just for him or is her presence brought on by a completely different set of circumstances? He's about to find out and what he eventually discovers is a lot more sinister than he could have ever imagined.
As Adrian travels back and forth between his boyhood home of Amityville and the new home he's created with Lilah in Woodlawn a strange pattern emerges, and he learns that the case he thought was closed isn't closed at all. Now Adrian is torn between two women. One holds the key to justice in a long-fought battle between sovereignty and compassion. The other holds his heart. As he struggles with his emotions for these two women he loves, he learns that the past truly can haunt the present, and ultimately, threaten the lives of the people he loves the most.
Ms. Jordan weaves an enticing yarn about life and love. Is it possible to love two women at once? What if one redefines your past and the other completes your future? This story will take you back to the exhilaration of your first love and teach you that when it comes to matters of the heart, miracles do exist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543955644

Book preview

© Renay Jordan 2019

Print ISBN: 978-1-54395-563-7

eBook ISBN: 978-1-54395-564-4

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Adrian

Lilah

Adrian

Lilah

Once Upon A Time there was

Fairy Tale

Nana’s Journal

Sicily Anne Anand Sutherland

Lilah

Adrian

The Foster Care Years

Tiffany

Adrian

Nana

The High School Years

Adrian

Tiffany

Lorelei

Adrian

Isabel

The College Years

Adrian

Adrian

Lilah

Lorelei

Adrian

Adrian

Adrian

Adrian

Tristan

Adrian

Lilah

Lorelei

Adrian

Epilogue

Tiffany

The Recipes

Adrian

For Cullen Austin Joines

My first glimpse of heaven

And Melanie Phillips Day

You know why

September 12

Dear Diary,

So, I’m writing in this stupid diary because Mom told me I should start writing things down that are on my mind. She thinks it will help me figure out what I want to do with my life. Isabel said to screw diaries because someone always finds them. Mom told her to shut up and have another glass of wine.

Social Services made me get a therapist. FML. I am supposed to write down 5 goals I can accomplish before the end of the year.

Get a job (Not a waitress)

Start a study group (LOL)

Cut my hair (maybe)

Lose 5 lbs. so I can fit into my size zero jeans again

Find a nice, decent guy to have a relationship with (she said someone who has priorities)

Which, btw, I already did. His name is Hunter and he is GORGEOUS!! Long, blonde hair – on one side, anyway. The other side is shaved. It sounds weird but trust me when I say it looks incredibly sexy. He is also a singer and has his own band!!! He told me their drummer quit and he asked if I would play with them!! I am so EXCITED!! He’s big into music and he told me he would help me get a scholarship because I am amazing. Aaah!! We haven’t had sex yet, but he is a really good kisser! Just between you and me – we’ve done other things…LOL…but that’s MY secret. (Because I trust Isabel when she says somebody will eventually find this thing.)

This is funny: My therapist told me girls my age shouldn’t know how to shoot firearms…lol… so Adrian told them she was a nutcase, and now I have a new therapist! LMAO. I haven’t told Adrian about the music scholarship thing yet, but he is going to flip out – in a good way, of course.

Sometimes I wish I’d just killed Bret. That’s a horrible thing to say, isn’t it? But now, I kinda feel like I need to be in the Witness Protection Program. I tell that to my friends and they think it’s funny. Most of my friends don’t think I’m afraid of anything, but sometimes I am. I’m not as tough as most people think and contrary to popular belief, I DO cry. Not often, but it happens. Adrian told me I didn’t need to worry about any of that bc Bret and Luther are going to jail for a very long time.

My therapist made me talk about Mom and Adrian even though I told her I didn’t need to. She said Mom had a mid-life crisis. Duh. I don’t know how things came to be with her and Adrian and, honestly, I don’t want to know. What I do know is that Mom is happier than she’s been in a long time and that’s really all that matters to me. Jeannie (my therapist) said Mom and Adrian’s relationship is not a stereotypical case. Duh, again.

So, Daddy moved out and Adrian moved in. How do you feel about that? Jeannie asked me. I told her nothing much had really changed bc Daddy was never home anyway and the only difference between Adrian now and then is that I have to get used to him walking around the house in his pajamas.

People at school are like, ‘ooh, you get to live with Tristan.’ No. It’s not like that at all. I wish they would all just shut up bc Tristan is like family – and I don’t have any sick fantasy of sleeping with my Mom’s boyfriend. I just wrote Tristan. LOL. We all call him that every now and then. Even Mom. He told her she could call him anything she wanted as long as she let him sleep in her bed. We were all like, GROSS.

Not even a week after he moved in, he installed a security system and now we have to punch in a code before we can get into the house. At first, I thought it had something to do with the whole Bret situation, but now I know it’s just who Adrian is – it’s what he does. He also put in a surveillance system that was supposed to ring the doorbell whenever someone pulled into the driveway. It worked, but the radar was off course, so it rang the doorbell every time someone drove past the house. It drove Max crazy so one day after Isabel had a few too many cocktails, she disabled it with a hammer. It was hilarious. Adrian told her if she ever did anything like that again he was going to disable her with a hammer. (He was kidding.) She told him to kiss her ass. Ha.

At the hospital, the night after I shot Bret, Adrian told me I should treasure my youth’ (who says that??) bc before I knew it, I’d be too old to do anything about it. He said some decisions can follow you for the rest of your life, so you have to be careful when you make one. He has a way of saying things that make you see them in a different light than you did before. Jeannie said it’s called being a conciliator. I thought that was only something countries at war did. It basically means he’s a peacemaker. I wish she’d just said that.

SOOO…I put blonde streaks in my hair last night but only underneath. It looks pretty cool, especially when I put it up. Michael told me I looked like a zebra. I told him to shut the fuck up. I got in trouble for that. Dirty word jar and my phone turned off for the rest of the day. Before Adrian (I call it BA), Mom tried to physically take it away from me and we’d always fight about it. She used to stick it down the front of her pants, so I couldn’t take it back out of her hand, but Adrian (AA – after Adrian) told her that it created unnecessary strife and tension and she should just go online and turn it off. He’s smart that way. The first time it happened, I thought my phone was broken, and then Mom told me she’d turned it off bc Adrian said it would keep me from arguing with her. Of course, I confronted Adrian about it bc that’s what I do. He told me I had to go to sleep at some point. I wanted to punch him in the face, but then he told me I was smarter than that. How do you argue with that? You don’t. Like I said. Peacemaker.

I’m so excited about going to Long Island next summer!!! I think it’s cool as shit that Adrian and Tiffany inherited the Inn. She showed me a picture of it. Fairy Tale. That’s the name of it. It’s huge! I think their Nana must have been rich. I wonder what it was like to grow up somewhere like that. Isaac told me Adrian’s mom was NUTS. I don’t know how he knows that. He also told me Adrian’s high school girlfriend lives in Amityville and that she’s a fortune teller. I don’t know how he knows that, either.

I can’t see Adrian with a fortune teller, but people surprise the hell out of me every day, so what do I know? I think I might have to look her up when I get to Amityville, though. I mean, what’s more exciting than having a little magic in your life??

Bonne nuit!

(I’m taking French this year!!)

Love,

Vonnie

Yes, I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor ruling spirits, nothing now, nothing in the future, no power, nothing above us, nothing below us, nor anything in the whole world will ever be able to separate us from the love of God.

Romans 8: 38-39 (NCV)

Adrian

There were so many people at Nana’s funeral it was hard to even get inside the church. I couldn’t think of anyone who didn’t love Sicily Sutherland. Most everyone called her Cissy although I knew she preferred Sicily. Nana wasn’t the type of person who would ever tell anyone they needed to change their term of affection for her, even if it was to her given name.

I saw Lorelei at the funeral as soon as I walked into the church with the rest of the family. At first, I wondered if this beautiful woman staring back at me could be the same girl I fell in love with ten years ago. And, of course, I wondered why she was in Amityville. Had she come home just for Nana’s funeral? Would she do that for me?

Nana used to tease us and say she wasn’t sure which one of us was prettier. She always said I was too pretty to be a boy. Everyone around here said our entire family was pretty. They called it dark beauty. It was probably because of our skin tone and jet-black hair, but every time I thought about it, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were referring to my mother and her nefarious history.

When Lorelei looked over to me, I smiled and bowed my head. Mostly, because I was overwhelmed with the fact she was there. When I was finally able to look back up to her, I mouthed the words, ‘thank you’. She gave me a slight smile and nodded. Outside the church, Tiffany grabbed my hand.

I know you saw her, she whispered. Don’t get any wild ideas.

What are you talking about? I asked.

Lorelei.

I know that but what are you talking about, ‘wild ideas?’

Do you know why she’s here? she asked.

Uh, because she loved Nana? Tiffany shook her head.

Everyone loved Nana.

Then why?

Because she knew she’d see you, she said.

That’s ridiculous, I said, and I started to walk away from her.

You should stay away from her, Tiffany warned, grabbing my arm. She’s doing weird stuff now. I stopped and turned to her.

What weird stuff?

No one told you?

No, I said. No one told me anything.

She’s practicing magic, she said. Here. In Amityville. You know as well as I do that her family is famous for their crazy fortune telling business.

I turned and walked away from her again and she followed me. Lorelei’s family had been practicing ‘magic’ since the beginning of time. It wasn’t new information for me. It didn’t surprise me one bit that Lorelei had picked up where her grandmother left off, although it did make me wonder why one of her aunts hadn’t done it.

It’s not crazy, I said. It’s just what they do.

Promise me you won’t go see her, she said.

I stopped, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. I wanted to see her. I wanted to talk to her and Tiffany knew this. She didn’t know it because of our twin intuition. She knew it because Lorelei changed me in ways I can’t even explain. Although, I’m sure Tiffany didn’t see it that way. Tiffany had been telling me ever since the first time Lorelei left Amityville, she had cast a spell over me.

Why does it matter to you? I asked.

"It should matter to you," she said.

Why? I asked. You think she’s going to cast another spell over me or something?

I think you’re still under the first one.

That’s bullshit, I said.

What about Lilah?

Lilah probably hates my guts right now, I said.

Why would you say that? she asked.

Maybe because I left her with no explanation??

She knows you love her, Tiffany assured me.

No, she doesn’t, I said. She knows I abandoned her.

Mr. Bennett? It was the funeral director.

Yes, Sir?

We can get the processional going if you and Miss. Bennett want to take your place behind the hearse.

Oh, yes, I said. I’m sorry.

No worries, Sir.

Tiffany took my hand and whispered in my ear.

Promise me.

Okay, I said, giving in. I promise.

I will know if you do, she warned as I opened the car door for her.

Is that a threat?

No, she said as I got in behind her. It’s a fact.

We rode to the cemetery in silence. Lorelei didn’t come to the graveside service like I hoped she would. I’m not sure why. When I didn’t see her there, I wondered if I would ever have another opportunity to talk to her, or if our acknowledgement of each other at the church was all I would ever get. I never got to tell her goodbye the last time she left Amityville. Now she’d returned, and I didn’t even get to say hello.

Lorelei had always been a refuge for me. Whenever I felt alone and empty, I thought of her and of what we’d had together. When Nana died it dawned on me that not only had I lost her, but I’d lost Lorelei, too, and there was nothing I could do about either one. I lost one to death and one to The Empire, which as the years passed by, seemed extraordinarily similar.

I thought about what I was going to do now that Nana was gone. I thought about how I would never be able to call her again on the phone when I needed someone to assure me that everything was okay. The last time I’d talked to her was after I’d shot a guy who was threatening to kill his girlfriend if I didn’t put down my gun. I thought I’d won by saving that woman’s life, but he’d beaten her so badly beforehand she died at the hospital a few hours later. He, on the other hand, lived. How is that justice?

Nana said God worked in mysterious ways and I had to trust He was in control. I told her, ‘No, I was in control. I should have shot him in the head instead of the chest, but I didn’t and now that son of a bitch will be walking the streets again. Because of me.’

I remember her saying, ‘Adrian, that is not my sweet boy talking. That is your anger and your frustration talking.’ Then she told me to look up Ephesians 4:26-27. Nana always gave me a Bible verse no matter what my situation and most often she didn’t have to look it up first. Now whenever I am angry or frustrated, I repeat that verse in my head.

One evening, about a week after Nana’s funeral, I walked out onto the beach behind the Inn. The sea had always been a comfort to me ever since I was a child. I knew now, even after all these years, it still would. I stood for a few minutes looking out across the bay, then I sat down on the dunes, and lit the joint I’d confiscated off a teenager earlier in the week. It wasn’t necessary because the DEA doesn’t care about a teenager smoking pot on the corner. The DEA cares about the man importing a shitload of drugs over the border.

A crackle of thunder pierced the silence and I looked up to see a bolt of lightning strike the water. That didn’t happen very often, so I thought it must be a sign that something momentous was about to happen. Then I saw her. I was pretty high at that point, so I kept telling myself she wasn’t a real person, that it wasn’t Lorelei even though there was a part of me that wanted it to be. She walked toward me slowly, her long, dark hair flowing behind her in the wind. As she got closer a bolt of lightning lit up the dark sky again. She was wearing a long white sundress with stacks of gold bracelets on both arms. Every one of her fingers had a series of rings, even her thumbs. She wasn’t watching me. I don’t know if she saw me at first but then she looked up and saw me sitting on the dunes. Lorelei is one of those girls who looks like the heroine on the front of a gothic romance novel.

I thought of the last time I’d seen this girl, but she wasn’t a girl anymore. I watched her as she walked over and stood in front of me. I didn’t say anything. She smiled and reached out as if to take my hand. I looked down to the sand beneath me. I don’t know why other than her standing in front of me now elicited the same response she’d always elicited in me - a kind of inexplicable anticipation that made my heart beat faster without even knowing why. She was the only person other than Tiffany who knew how much I loved my Nana and I knew, without a doubt, she had loved Nana, too.

When I didn’t take her hand she said, I prayed for you, and I wondered to who.

I looked up to her then, this girl who now read palms and talked to Spirits for a living, but I was still quiet. She reached down and took the joint out of my hand and brought it to her mouth. She inhaled and blew the smoke back out into the ocean air. It was covered with pink lip gloss when she handed it back to me. I took another hit and stuffed it down into the sand beside me.

Thunder crashed in the distance and it began raining at once. It began raining hard, sheets of rain falling sideways. I stood up and she moved closer to me. Right away we were both soaking wet. She put her hands on my neck and I stood there, wanting to say something, but not able to process anything that would make sense to her. I instinctually lowered my face to hers.

Am I dreaming? she asked.

No, I answered. I don’t think so.

My mother had four brothers. Three older than her and one younger than her. She used to tell me and Tiffany we were the wicked ones, but my mother was wicked from the day she was born. Nana talked about all the times she tried to save my mother – and she meant through the Holy Spirit – but there was a spirit inside my mother, and it was anything but holy.

Nana said when my mother was seven, she began to draw dark circles with a black ink pen on her arm, and when Nana asked her about it, she said they were the way you got into hell. I don’t think there are very many people who would expect to hear that come out of a seven-year-old’s mouth.

Looking into my mother’s eyes was like looking into a dark abyss. The pupils were black but so were the irises. You could stare at them as long as you wanted but you’d never be able to find a line of separation. Trust me, I tried.

As she grew older, people in Amityville said my mother looked like Vivien Leigh (Scarlett O’Hara, in case you don’t know who Vivien Leigh is), Elizabeth Taylor, and in a completely unfathomable way, Natasha Richardson. All three very beautiful women. All of them dead, but physically. My mother wasn’t dead physically. She was dead internally. She had a beating heart with an empty soul but a brilliant mind. There was no doubt my mother was beautiful but what is on the outside of a person rarely reflects what is on the inside. And that was the exact case with my mother.

Nana said she was too smart. It was a little scary – but only to people who knew what my mother was capable of – and there aren’t many of us. At least, not then. I don’t think anyone took into consideration how intelligent my mother was or how her mind worked. She made things happen and it wasn’t for anyone’s benefit but her own. There was only one person smarter than my mother and it was her own mother. Nana. My mother fooled a lot of people with her cool charisma, but Nana wasn’t one of them. Nana told me a lot of stories about my mother once I returned to Fairy Tale, but the one I remember most vividly is when Nana said she grounded my mother. She didn’t tell me why.

My mother looked forward to the ice cream truck that came every Thursday afternoon. With no allowance money, she wouldn’t be able to buy ice cream that week. She started on the boy who lived across the street from the Inn on the Monday afternoon after she’d been punished. My mother wasn’t one to argue her point of view nor did she ever take the time to explain her behavior or intentions. She didn’t bother with talking when taking action was much more effective.

Alexander was infatuated with my mother, but she had never given him the time of day. Until now. She walked to the mailbox that Monday afternoon with her damp hair in a messy knot wearing a half-buttoned white shirt - wet, and therefore, see-through because she’d just gotten out of the shower - and too short denim cut-offs. The following evening, she waited until Alexander brought out the trash after dinner and left her blinds open while she undressed for bed. On Wednesday, she invited him to swim in the pool. What a surprise it must have been to him when she dove into the deep end only to surface moments later without her top. She was fifteen.

My mother was patient. And she always got what she wanted. Most often it was something much more sinister than ice cream. When questioned about her sincerity she took immediate action. She once held a girl’s kitten underwater until it drowned so she could say she tried to save it. Nana said she was just glad it was the kitten and not the girl’s little brother.

People in Amityville loved my Nana, but they watched my mother carefully. When you are as beautiful as my mother, people watch you. My mother watched you back. She saw what no one else did and she played every card in her deck. You didn’t mess with Caris Sutherland unless you wanted to end up dead in the bottom of the bay.

According to Nana, my mother got pregnant with me and Tiffany when she was twenty. She wasn’t married. Or dating. Nana could only assume it was a one-night stand, which made perfect sense if you knew my mother. It didn’t take long for most people who spent any time with her at all to figure out she was a little off. Even so, there wasn’t a man in Amityville who believed they couldn’t save her. My mother’s beauty mesmerized them all. Understandably, my father was no different.

To make her pregnancy legitimate, my mother seduced him, the pastor of the Trinity Evangelical Church. Raymond Bennett was one of the most sincere and loving men in the world. Naturally, my mother turned on her charm to take complete advantage of that quality. Within a month of discovering she was pregnant she had convinced Raymond Bennett he was the father.

Even though Raymond believed he was mine and Tiffany’s father, Nana knew differently. There was never a paternity test to prove it, so Nana had to accept the fact that Tiffany and I were the result of a union between an unholy woman and a man of God. My father put all his faith into saving my mother and she played her part perfectly. From the moment my father met my mother until the day they were both incarcerated he believed in her. He never doubted her. He loved her with all his heart.

Whenever my mother showed her true colors my father was the first one to defend her. Now, she not only had a husband and father for her children but a man who worshipped the ground she walked on. I honestly think my father would have jumped off a cliff for my mother. When most people say they’d do that for someone it’s usually just a figure of speech. Not for my father. He would have done anything my mother told him to do. If that included jumping off a cliff, so be it.

Fortunately, my father was poor, and he and my mother couldn’t afford a house of their own, so Tiffany and I grew up in the Fairy Tale Inn where Nana ruled the roost. She welcomed people from all over the country to the Long Island beachfront every day. Everyone always said the grand staircase reminded them of the staircase in Gone with the Wind. Maybe. Although I must be honest and say it is not quite that grand. People have fallen down it before, though, and that never ended well. I was one of them. I should know. Nana said it was a miracle I only broke my wrist and not both my legs. I couldn’t play the piano afterward for six weeks.

Nana started teaching me to play the piano when I was four. Occasionally, my mother would play scales with me and once she even taught me a simple version of Amazing Grace. But my mother didn’t play the piano like Nana. She could. She just wouldn’t. I never understood her aversion to it, because the sound of a piano is a beautiful sound. Being able to make a piano ‘sing,’ as Nana used to say, is not just a talent. It is a calling. Once the keys of a piano seduce you, you develop a devotion to it. There has never been a time in my life when I walked by a piano that I didn’t want to sit down and play it.

When Tiffany and I were ten, my mother and father took us away from Fairy Tale to travel with them in what they called their ‘ministry," and there was only one reason they did it. Me. Here’s where my twisted spiritual history comes to light.

My father was convinced my musical ability was a gift from God, so when we left the Inn and began traveling, I was the obvious choice for a musician. My mother had an old hymn book she carried along with her Bible and it wasn’t long before I had memorized every song in it. I have always been able to memorize music. It is rare when I play a song, I am not able to reproduce it later without the music. Even if it isn’t the same, it’s always close. My mother once told me I was too proud of my musical abilities, and if I continued to be proud, she’d cut off my fingers. From that point on I always used the hymn book even though I no longer needed it.

Traveling all over the country wasn’t bad at first. It was fun going to all the different places and meeting all kinds of people but then my mother decided to homeschool us. Once we stopped going to public school, we never learned much of anything except Bible verses and what my Dad called Interpretation.

There are a million (well, maybe not a million) interpretations of the Bible. You can pretty much read anything you want to into it if you’re smart enough. My mother was more than smart enough, so she convinced my dad into believing a lot of crazy shit. She said in order to get to heaven you had to go through hell first, and she didn’t mean mentally. She meant actually going to hell, as if it were a place of residence. That was her justification for everything she did. Hell first. Heaven later.

I always did what my mother told me to do. Not because I was afraid of her but because Nana told me I needed to respect her. My mother never told me she loved me, but she showed me what I thought was love at the time in one way. She brushed my hair every night before she put me to bed. She told me to never cut it.

I only cut my hair now when someone tells me I have to – usually Jenny. For the longest time I thought my hair was the only redeeming quality I had. That was the first lesson I learned from my mother. You must have a redeeming quality. I didn’t learn until much later in life I didn’t need one at all.

Nana said she named my mother Caris because it means grace and one day, somehow, that name is going to save her from eternal hellfire. I hope she’s right. When I was sixteen, I realized that grace – the unmerited favor of God, is directly related to mercy – the pardoning of sin, so with Nana’s permission and Lorelei’s support, I tattooed Kyrie Elesion across my shoulder blades. I thought if mercy was going to save my mother it would surely be my Savior as well. Oddly enough, my mother named my sister, Tiffany Grace, which is a perfect example of how her twisted mind works.

My first memories at the Fairy Tale Inn are from some of the happiest times of my life. Growing up there with Nana was every kid’s dream and, without my mother, it would have been a dream for me, too. But then I wouldn’t be who I am today and for that, I am thankful. It is about the only thing I am thankful to my mother for – bringing me into this world and a lifetime of lessons no one should ever learn before the age of twenty-seven, much less fifteen.

Nana once told me short stories are what make up your life story. Some short stories are good stories. Some stories aren’t good at all. Lilah wanted to hear every story and I wanted to tell them to her. I couldn’t imagine how I would tell her the story of me and Lorelei, but it was a story I had to tell at some point.

The beginning would be easy. Lorelei Anastasio was my first love. I’m sure Lilah had a first love although I’d never asked. She would certainly understand the love I’d had with Lorelei but that wasn’t the part I was worried about telling her. The past would be easy to tell. It was the present that scared the living daylights out of me.

The Fairy Tale Inn is where my story begins. It is my childhood, my hopes, my disappointments, my dreams. Scandal. It’s the horror stories and the happy endings. It’s true friendship, betrayal and yes, a tidbit of magic.

For the longest time, Lorelei was the biggest part of that story. Our lives wove themselves together even when we weren’t paying attention. Fate has a way of making that happen. Destiny is what takes you to places you’d never dream of going. Karma is what keeps you there.

The first thing that crossed my mind when I lowered my face to Lorelei’s that night were the baths we used to take together when her parents were out of town, how we would laugh as we maneuvered our bodies around each other, in an old clawfoot tub that was deep but not wide. I honestly think that was when I started working out, just so I could hold myself up over her in the tub. She used to turn out all the lights and sit candles in the windowsill. We’d drink her mom’s champagne and crawl out of the tub into the bed, not worrying about whether we got the sheets wet.

Now, thunder crashed in the distance and lowering my face to hers wasn’t even a conscious decision. I just did it. It was what I had always done when I was that close to Lorelei. She parted her lips as my mouth moved against hers and I thought about the first time I kissed her, right here on this beach. I thought about how she trembled in my arms and held onto me when the waves suddenly crashed at our feet.

I pulled her into me by her waist. She put her arms around my neck, tracing a path across my shoulders, moving downward slowly. I felt like I was seventeen again, standing on the beach with this girl I couldn’t believe was mine, the best thing that had ever happened to me, the most beautiful girl in the village, and she wanted me.

I can’t explain the devastation I felt the day Lorelei left Amityville. Afterward, I replayed the memories I had of us over and over, but eventually they faded around the edges and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall them. Now those memories resurfaced and feeling her body against mine brought back that feeling, the feeling that someone loved me as much as I loved them.

The rain poured from the sky and her hair fell in wet cords over her shoulders. When she reached up to wipe the water off her face, she accidentally pulled a strand of it across her mouth. I savored the taste of her shampoo. Still strawberry crème. I suddenly remembered washing her hair and feeling it drift through my fingers as I sat behind her in the tub, how she would lay her head back against my shoulder, how her body fit perfectly between mine.

We’d sit there and kiss for hours, adding hot water whenever we got cold. Soon after I learned what most guys learn a lot earlier than seventeen – that sex with the girl you love can make you commit a crime. Just for the record I didn’t commit any crimes, but I would have, no doubt.

We stood kissing in the rain with lightning all around us. I couldn’t tell if the crashes I heard in the distance were waves hitting the beach or another storm moving across the water. The sky was black, and I pulled away from her and looked to the full moon that had peeked its way through the clouds above us.

Look, I said when it finally dawned on me, I wasn’t seventeen anymore and neither was she, that we no longer belonged to each other, that we belonged to other people. At least, I did.

She raised her head and looked up to the moon. The rain had subsided and now there was just a fine mist blowing across the beach. I felt her shiver in my arms. Maybe because of the wind blowing through her wet dress. Maybe because I elicited in her the same response she’d elicited in me.

What does a full moon mean?

You believe in me? she asked, surprisingly.

I hear you are the expert in these matters.

Who told you that?

Tiffany.

It means different things to different people, she answered. She was still holding my hands. It depends on the placement of the moon on the day you were born.

She turned toward the water and laid her head back against my shoulder, like she used to do when we took our baths.

It’s mostly an illumination of your thoughts and feelings, she explained. It’s energizing because she is facing the sun, which is her direct source of light.

She?

The moon is a she, yes.

What does it mean to you? I asked.

Hmm…well, the Spirits are most active during a full moon, so it is usually the best time to communicate with them.

Can you do that?

What? she asked, looking over her shoulder.

Communicate with Spirits?

Yes, she said.

How?

I just agree to let them come to me and then I wait. She turned back to the water.

For how long? I asked.

However long it takes, but it is usually within a few minutes. She hesitated. Thank you for believing in me.

I think I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t lie about it.

No.

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. Just like the kiss moments ago, it wasn’t something I had to think about. It was a natural reaction, like when you turn on too much hot water instead of cold, and have to pull your hand away, so you don’t get burned. I had a distinct feeling that getting burned was inevitable at this point, but I didn’t pull my hand away.

No one has ever believed in me the way you do, she said. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.

Still? I whispered into her ear.

Still, she said then, You have a girlfriend.

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.

Yes, I said. I do. I told her about you.

Why? she asked, taking a deep breath.

Because she is the first woman I’ve ever loved like I loved you.

I wish we hadn’t lost that, she said as she turned around to face me again. She laid her forehead against my chest and I placed my hands lightly on her upper arms.

I know, I said. Me, too.

What’s her name? she asked as she looked up to me.

Lilah.

Is she pretty? I chuckled.

Yes. Very.

Is she good to you?

Yes, I said.

How good? She smiled, and I shook my head.

"That good."

Better than me? I laughed.

We’re not going down that path, Lora. She sighed.

I haven’t heard that in a very long time, she said sadly.

What’s that? I asked.

Lora, she said. No one has ever called me Lora. Except you.

Oh.

Will you do something for me?

Sure, I said.

This was not always the wisest answer to give Lorelei when you didn’t know ahead of time what she was asking for. It was a lesson I had learned many times, but always seemed to forget.

Will you take me to see the Inn? she asked. It’s been forever since I’ve been inside it. You know your uncles locked it up and put a no trespassing sign on the gate. I chuckled.

When has something being locked ever stopped you before??

Funny.

You want to go tonight? I asked.

Yeah, she said. Can we?

I reached into my pocket for my phone then remembered I’d put it in the console of my car, so I looked at my watch. One-fifteen.

It’s getting kind of late, I said showing it to her.

Lorelei had never been able to read my watch. She said it had too much junk on it. It wasn’t the same watch I had when I was younger, but she still said the same thing about it.

You know I can’t read that stupid thing, she said. I’ve never understood why you need to know what time it is in every time zone in America.

Well, before it was just curiosity, I explained. Now, I’m incognito most of the time.

Is that why you’ve switched from bright yellow to black?

Black is incognito. She laughed. Are you laughing at me?

Yes, she said, picking up my arm. She looked at the watch again. And I still can’t read it.

It’s digital, I said. How can you not read it?

It’s got four different times on it, she protested. How do I know which one our time-zone is?

It’s the biggest one, I explained. She shoved my arm away.

Well, the watch people should outline it in yellow or something.

I think that would take away from the appeal of the watch, I speculated.

Maybe, she said. Are you sure it’s right?

Am I sure what’s right??

The time on your watch, goofball.

Of course, it’s right.

Because you’re so official now.

I am not taking you to see the Inn if you keep making fun of me, I said.

Poor baby, she said squeezing my cheeks together.

There are not many people I would allow to treat me this way. Lorelei is one of them. Lilah is the other.

Are we going? Lorelei asked.

Okay, I said, giving in.

I took a deep breath. Tiffany was staying at her apartment tonight but, despite it being one in the morning, I should have recognized the possibility of her showing up at any moment. She was probably laying in her bed right now thinking, ‘I should go save Adrian from himself’ even if she didn’t know why.

Do you remember when you used to carry me back from the beach to the Inn at the end of the day? she asked.

Yeah. I paused. I remember.

I knew instantly she was going to ask me to do it now because I can read Lorelei’s mind. Kind of like how Tiffany reads mine. This is what Tiffany was talking about earlier at the funeral. I’ve never been convinced Lorelei cast spells, over me or anyone else, but I do know I have never been able to say no to her. I’ve thought about it many times, but I’ve never done it. Not even once.

Will you do it?

Are you kidding me? I asked. She batted her eyelashes at me.

Lorelei’s eyes are mesmerizing, and she knows it. They aren’t blue or green. They are turquoise, like the Aegean Sea, rimmed in gold. Nana used to say she had the eyes of an angel. She was Amityville’s Angel. She always had been.

No, she answered.

Are you trying to get in my pants? I asked, and she laughed.

No, she said again.

"How do you know I can carry you like I used to?"

Really? she asked as she put her hand around my bicep.

I smiled and scooped her up in my arms. I think I surprised her because she sucked in her breath as I lifted her against me. She weighed nothing and still, after all these years, felt as delicate as a teacup.

Don’t worry, she said. I will be good.

What exactly does that mean? I asked as I walked back toward the Inn.

It means Lilah loves you and I am not about to screw that up.

I had briefly forgotten Lorelei has the ability to know things without anyone telling them to her. I was glad she knew Lilah loved me. I didn’t even know if Lilah loved me.

Still? I asked. Because as of this moment she has no idea where I am, and I feel like she probably hates my guts.

Why doesn’t she know where you are? she asked.

You tell me. She shook her head.

"I don’t know everything."

I thought you were a professional, I teased. I lost my step for a moment, but I held onto her tightly.

I am going to kill you if you drop me.

I might be high, I said and laughed. But I promise I’m not going to drop you. I started down the steps to the courtyard.

Why doesn’t Lilah know where you are right now? she asked again.

It’s a long story but suffice it to say I had to disappear for a while.

Work related?

Uh-huh.

Well, she wants to hate you, Lorelei said. But she can’t. You’ll see.

I put her down as we arrived at the beveled doors into the living room. They were open, the white curtains blowing in the wind. She walked over to the Tiffany lamp on Nana’s Victorian desk and turned it on. She looked around.

What happened to the railings on the foyer steps? I stuffed my hands down into my pockets.

The iron ones?

Yes.

I had to take them down, I explained. The holes in the stone at the bottom gradually got bigger and bigger as the years went by. I think all the ‘stop hanging onto the banister’ admonishments were ignored for too long.

You need to put them back up, she said. Would it be hard?

Probably not. I guess I could just put a little cement in the holes to support them.

I think Nana would want you to put them back up, she said looking over to me.

Yeah, I agreed. You’re probably right.

She walked across the living room and up the few steps into the foyer toward the grand staircase. She peeked around the banister and looked up the stairs.

I remember this red carpet, she said as she motioned to it.

I think it’s seen its better days, I commented.

It’s still so beautiful. She walked over to one of the newel posts. These angels…

The guardians of Fairy Tale, I commented. She turned to me.

I bet the guardians of Fairy Tale still don’t work, do they? I laughed.

Sometimes, I said. They were on the other night.

On both newel posts at the bottom of the grand staircase were two angels holding glowing lanterns on their shoulders. Nana never found a light switch for them, so we never knew how to turn them on or off. They had a mind of their own, though, because they would come on at the weirdest times and go off again whenever they pleased.

Has the Inn always been named Fairy Tale? Lorelei asked.

Um…I know it was an old estate when Nana and Dada bought it. I’m guessing Nana named it. I doubt the people who owned it before called it Fairy Tale.

You know I always dreamed about walking down this staircase one day, she said. To you. She turned around. I thought I’d do that on our wedding day. I had even picked out my wedding gown. I knew you’d ask me.

I probably would have, I said quietly as I looked to the floor.

I guess that’s a dream I should put aside.

I didn’t say anything, but I noticed she was still shivering, so I walked over to the side closet and pulled out two beach towels. I handed one to her.

Oh, she said as she took it and brought it to her hair. Thanks. I’m drenched.

Me, too.

What’s the chance Tiffany has something here I can wear? she asked as she held out her wet dress.

Uh, yeah, I managed. I’m sure she does.

Do you think she would mind? Lorelei asked. I knew the answer to that question was yes, but I said no anyway.

No, I said. I don’t think so. I should probably change, too. I’m soaked.

We walked up the staircase together as I towel-dried my hair. When we got to the first landing, Lorelei stopped.

Wait, she said. Left is family, right is strangers. I chuckled.

Yep. We turned and walked up the next set of steps to the family quarters.

Do you ever get confused? she asked.

With what?

Where you are. I laughed again.

Not usually but I never go over to the guest’s side, I said. It’s kinda like it doesn’t even exist. I know that sounds weird.

The red carpet led us down the hallway toward Nana’s room. Some of the wall sconces were lit but not all of them. When we walked past one that wasn’t, I smacked my hand against the wall and it came on.

Voila! She turned to look at me.

You’re so goofy.

You keep telling me that, I said. You’re giving me a complex.

She stopped outside my mother’s door. Every single room had a brass placard on the door that stated who it belonged to. She ran her fingers across it.

Caris Anne Sutherland, she read then she looked to me. Do you ever miss her?

Sometimes, I admitted.

I couldn’t admit that to anyone else, but Lorelei knew my story and unlike most people, she didn’t judge me for it. It didn’t matter that my mother was what she was. She was still my mother and yes, I did miss her. I missed her brushing my hair every night before I went to bed. I missed the times she was the real Caris, when she played the piano with me and talked to me about the Spirits. Lora and I walked further down the hall, past all my uncles’ rooms and she read each one out loud as we passed them.

Mason Carter Sutherland. Jonathan Cabell Sutherland. Thomas Colin Sutherland. Christopher Paris. She turned to me. Why did Nana name Chris, Paris? I leaned against the wall with my hand.

I asked the same question, I said. She told me it was where he was conceived but he thinks it’s from Helen of Troy. Lorelei laughed.

Oh, that’s funny.

Uh-huh.

Tiffany Grace Bennett, Lorelei said. I opened the door and we went inside. Where’s the light switch?

There is no light switch in this room, I said as I walked over to the bedside table.

I turned on the table lamp. The room filled with light and Lorelei looked upward. There hung an enormous crystal chandelier. She pointed to it.

Well, then, how do you turn that on?

You don’t, I answered and shrugged.

This house is so weird, she said as she turned to look at me.

I know, I agreed. Look in Tiffany’s suitcase. I’m sure she has a top and a pair of jeans you can wear. I’d do it, but I doubt she wants me touching her private things.

Honestly, she’d probably like Lorelei touching them even less. There was a long light pink cotton sundress hanging on the edge of the mantle.

I kinda feel weird about going through her suitcase, Lorelei said. Do you think she’d mind if I just wore this dress?

She walked over to it. Again, the answer would have been yes.

No, I said. I don’t think so. I motioned to Tiff’s bathroom. You can go in there and change. Come over to my room when you’re done.

Okay, she said. Thanks, Adrian.

Sure.

I walked across the hallway to my room. I’d never paid any attention at all to the brass placards but now I stared at mine. Adrian Cristiano Bennett. I opened the door.

My room was a disaster, so I picked up all my clothes scattered across it and threw them into the bathroom, then made my bed. I pulled a pair of jeans out of my bag and stripped off all my wet clothes. Lora knocked quickly and came in as I was buttoning them.

Wow, she said.

I know, I teased. I’m gorgeous.

She picked up a pillow off the chair by the door and threw it at me. I reached up and grabbed it before it went into the fireplace behind me.

I see your aim hasn’t changed much, I commented. Wow what?

This bed.

She walked over to it and wrapped her hand around one of the spindles. Every piece of furniture at the Inn was an antique and had a story. The spindles of my bed rose as high as the mansion headboard behind it. One thing Tiffany and I never got was superhero or princess comforters. They were our rooms, but Nana was the decorator. Hence, the reason I had purple satin sheets and a matching coverlet with gold satin roping around the edges. On the soapstone mantel sat various brass candlesticks, all adorned with purple and gold candles. Lorelei ran her hand over the coverlet.

I remember this, she said and smiled.

Do you?

You know the one thing I never understood? she asked.

What’s that?

I walked over to the chair in the corner where I’d thrown some of