There Be Magic

By Ross T. Lucas

Magic is real, and someone doesn’t want him to find out.
An innocent trip to the countryside is about to turn deadly.

Science teacher Tim Dovel is burnt out. All he wants is a quiet place to spend his summer vacation, and the sleepy town of New Albion seems like the perfect retreat. He’ll have a cozy cottage in the woods all to himself and plenty of time to work on his writing.

Fate has other ideas. Tim soon discovers that things aren’t quite what they seem in this secluded town. Maybe it’s his imagination playing tricks on him, but the locals keep giving him strange looks. Everyday objects defy the laws of physics. Nature itself seems to have it out for him.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, the mysterious town marshal Val captures Tim’s interest. He feels drawn to her, but little does he know she’s hiding a secret that’s about to turn his world upside down. With enemies hidden in the shadows, Tim will have to decide who he trusts and what he believes—or he may not make it out alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781329397989

Book preview

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Copyright © 2021 Ross T. Lucas.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-329-39798-9

Book cover and interior design by E. McAuley:

www.impluviumstudios.com

Also by Ross T. Lucas

Mystery / Thriller

Along Came Evil

Along Came Suffering

Christian Fiction

The Greatest Stories Ever... Retold

The Greatest Stories Ever... Retold: Volume 2

The Magi

Poetry

He Sits Alone

Psychology / Self-Improvement

The ID Book: Unmasking the Soul and Revealing

Your True Mission in Life

Christian Education

Toward an Understanding of Transitional Ministries

https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/rtlucas

1

It was Tuesday afternoon. In a few minutes, the bell would ring and the classroom would explode with students cascading through the door and into the hallway. Tim found it hard to wait. Tomorrow would be a half day for the students and the rest of the day and the next would be for teachers like himself to finish paperwork. Then, if everything was done, he could begin to think about his summer.

The lessons were finished and there was still a quarter of an hour left to fill. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he crossed his arms in front of him and studied his class. They were freshmen now, but when they gathered again in the fall, they would be sophomores. He couldn’t know what they were thinking, but he was sure it wasn’t about science.

He didn’t want to think about science either. He was tired of teaching, tired of lesson plans, and to be honest, tired of students. Just trying to fill the time, he leaned back and asked the group, Do you have any questions before we end the term?

Some of the students stared at him. Others shuffled through papers on their desks. He was about to try another approach when a boy’s hand in the back corner of the room went up. The student spoke up, Mr. Dovel, I have a question.

Ron was a quiet student. He was bright, but shy. Tim couldn’t remember Ron speaking up more than a couple of times all year. His homework was always done on time and most of the time it was done to near-perfection. The sound of his voice caused several heads to turn to look at him, as surprised as their teacher that he was saying something.

Yes, Ron, what is your question?

Mr. Dovel, do you believe in magic?

Tim studied Ron for several seconds and there were a few twitters of laughter around the room. It did seem to be an odd question to ask in a science class. How do you define magic?

Being able to do something that can’t be explained by science.

That’s a more difficult question than it seems, Tim said. It’s difficult because of the nebulous definitions of the terms. For instance, what do you mean by ‘science’ and what do you mean by ‘explained’? Keep in mind that science is used to explain how the natural world functions. However, if someone experiences something that they can’t explain, it might be seen as magic. Someone else might understand the underlying principles and the same thing would be seen as scientific. What I’m saying is that what’s ‘magic’ to one person may not be ‘magic’ to another person, and what is ‘scientific’ to one person may be ‘magic’ to someone else.

I understand that, Ron said. But I’m talking about real magic. The kind of thing where someone can control things with their mind. The kind of magic Harry Potter or Merlin would have used.

Tim wasn’t sure how to respond. Ron’s question sounded sincere. If he had thought Ron was just putting him on, he could have come back with some sort of sarcastic remark. The rest of the class broke into groans or made snide comments. They thought Ron was stupid to believe in that kind of stuff.

Tim felt a sort of kinship with Ron. He had always felt he was the odd man out. Many times when he had spoken up in class as a kid, other students hadn’t understood his questions and had also groaned at what he said.

Standing up, Tim put his hands out trying to shush the class. That’s enough. Quiet down. I know the question seems a little strange, but the basis of science is to ask a question, propose a hypothesis, and see if it’s possible to prove or disprove that hypothesis. Let’s think about it for a moment.

Next to his desk was a small table with various things on it, including some plastic beakers. Picking up one of the beakers, he set it on his desk, a couple of inches from the edge. How could we devise an experiment that would test the existence of magic by using this beaker?

One of the girls in the front row spoke up, I suppose we could have someone who thought they could use magic push the beaker off your desk using magic. Then if it could be done over and over, and all other causes were ruled out, we could say that magic was real.

Good answer, Sarah. He looked over the rest of the class. In other words, we could apply the scientific method to the hypothesis that magic existed. What would be the kind of things we would rule out?

Before anyone answered, the bell rang and all thoughts of magic were forgotten in the rush to get out of school. Ron was the last one to leave. "You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Dovel. Do you believe in magic?"

Dovel sighed before responding, "No. I don’t believe in magic. But I’m open to being shown I’m wrong. It isn’t possible to prove a negative. It’s up to someone who does believe in magic to show me that I’m wrong. If that happens, then I’m open to changing my mind."

Ron didn’t say anything for a second or two. He nodded and said, Thank you for answering me. I hope you have a good summer. Then he turned and hurried out the door.

Tim Dovel had been teaching high school science for ten years. He couldn’t remember anyone ever asking if he believed in magic.

He heard a thud behind him. Turning around, he saw the beaker had slipped off the edge of the desk and was on the floor, still rocking slightly.

He bent over and picked up the beaker and set it again on the desk. He pushed on the desk and the beaker rocked back and forth slightly. He kept rocking the desk and slowly the beaker scooted toward the edge. When he stopped rocking the desk, the beaker stayed put. He actually laughed out loud. I had been leaning against the desk and when I stood up I must have started it vibrating. I should repeat the process and see what happens.

Before he could, Dan, the math teacher in the room next door, stuck his head in the room. Tim, are you planning on going to the faculty party next weekend?

Absentmindedly, and perhaps a little embarrassed that he was trying to test magic, Tim picked up the beaker before he turned to answer.

Each year the faculty had a party at the lake. Only about half the faculty ever showed up; less than half if it was raining. He’d gone in the past, but last year he hadn’t. Last year he’d been tired of school and wanted to get away from anything that reminded him of teaching. This year he hadn’t planned on going either. He told Dan, I really haven’t given it much thought. I probably won’t go.

Dan shrugged. Okay. I just thought we could drive out together if you were going. Let me know if you change your mind.

Will do, he responded.

He reached to turn out the light as he left the room. Realizing he still held the beaker in his hand, he set it back on the table where it belonged then left for home. The last thing he did was grab his briefcase with the last-minute paperwork he had to do. Part of that work would involve grading, and it was going to be a long night.

2

That Sunday Tim attended his usual Bible study class. The theme for the day was the book of Micah. They had started last week, looking at when the book might have been written and what some of the themes were. Today they were looking at various verses.

One of my favorite passages, Barb, the woman leading the class, said, is Micah chapter 6, verse 8. I like it because it seems to spell out exactly what God wants of us. There are three things that stand out: justice, kindness, and humility.

This was also a favorite passage of Tim’s. It didn’t say God wanted sacrifice or anything like that. Micah said that God clearly expected people to do what was just, to show kindness and love, and to be humble. If more people lived by this idea, the church could be a powerful force in the world, he thought.

The class went on with different people—all of them men and women in their thirties or forties—talking about how they interpreted one passage or another. Barb was good at drawing people out without making any negative judgments. Tim’s mind wandered. He kept hearing his student Ron asking the question, Do you believe in magic? He was considering bringing it up to the class for the fun of it when time ran out.

Before he left the room, Barb caught his attention. How does it feel for school to be out?

It was a throw-away question and he gave the expected response, Feels good. Perhaps now I’ll have time to pursue other things I like. Now maybe I can get back to what I like doing. He thought to himself, Perhaps now I’ll be able to be alone. Tim often felt lonely, but he tended to become irritated when other people tried to pull him into gatherings.

Ever since he had finished college, Tim had been writing poetry and short stories. None of them had been published, but friends who had read them were always encouraging him to keep at it. This summer he was really hoping to find somewhere where he could be alone and put in a lot of work. He’d told Barb about this before.

Have you decided where you’re going to do your writing?

No. I had thought I could find a place to rent out of town. But to be honest, I haven’t had time to look, he responded.

I don’t know if you’d be interested, but a good friend of mine, Bea Peters, has offered her place to me for the summer. She lives in a little town downstate and she’s going to be away traveling all summer long. I have too much to do. I thought of you and wondered if you’d be interested. Barb paused to take a breath. If you are, I’ll call her and see if she’s open to you using the cabin.

I don’t know, Tim responded. I would hate to impose.

Let me check it out and get back to you. She needs someone to keep the place up over the summer.

Sensing Barb would push the matter, Tim sighed, Okay, check it out. But I should say upfront that I doubt it’ll work out.

Before making it into the sanctuary for the morning worship service, Tim encountered another church member who was a secretary at the school. She asked him, Are you going to the faculty picnic Saturday?

Dan asked me last week. I doubt it, he told her.

I think you could have fun. It’s been a long year, and it’s good to gather and let our hair down. Think about it.

After church, Tim went home and fixed himself lunch. After that, he was at a bit of a loss. Usually he used that time to grade papers or review lesson plans, but with school out, he didn’t have anything to do.

He finally decided to look for a place to spend the summer. Barb’s offer was good, but he didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. Staying in someone else’s cabin would be awkward. A Google search turned up a plethora of possibilities. Unfortunately, most of them were some distance away or were way out of his price range. After searching for almost two hours, he gave up for the day.

3

Tim sat back, frowning at his computer screen. He had again been searching for a place where he could spend the summer writing. The places that were a reasonable distance away were far too expensive.

His cell rang and it was Dan on the other end. Tim, I know you said you weren’t going to the picnic, but I thought I’d check again.

Several times during the week Tim had actually thought about attending the party. He couldn’t identify why, but something kept telling him it would be good to go. If nothing else, it might give him some good material for a short story or a poem.

You know, Dan? Maybe I will go.

That’s great. Should I drive, or do you want to?

Tim considered. Carpooling meant he wouldn’t be free to leave whenever he wanted. It wouldn’t matter who drove. However, he thought, if I drive, I’ll at least feel like I’m in control.

I’ll drive, he said. What time do you think we should leave?

The picnic starts between one and two. It’ll take half an hour to get there. How about you pick me up at one and we go from there?

Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow, Tim replied.

He had barely ended the call when his phone rang again. Since the phone was in his hand, he answered almost immediately, Hello.

Hi, Tim, this is Barb. I wanted to tell you more about the cabin I mentioned.

Still not sure he wanted to commit to it, Tim decided it wouldn’t cost anything to listen. Okay, tell me about it.

Barb described the cabin as small place in the woods with a kitchen, living room, small office, and bedroom. It was about an hour and a half from the city. I’ve been there, Barb said. It’s quite nice, in a very small village stuck out in the middle of nowhere.

It did sound idyllic. He had next week fairly free, perhaps he could go and check it out. The most it would cost was some time and money for gas.

If I wanted to find out if the place fit me, who would I see?

My friend left Mark Jacobs as a caretaker. She can let him know to look for you, Barb responded. Let me know when you might be there and I’ll get you contact information.

After considering for a moment, Tim told her, How about Monday or Tuesday of next week? I’m free and can drive down.

Writing down the possible dates, Barb took a second to respond. Okay. Will you be at church Sunday? I should know something by then.

As far as I know. See you Sunday.

4

Saturday turned out to be the perfect day for a picnic. The sky was beautiful without a cloud to be found. Temperatures by two o’clock were in the low eighties and there was a gentle breeze off the lake. The teachers and staff gathered at a picnic area under a grove of white oak trees. The breeze was enough to keep the leaves dancing, a mesmerizing effect.

They had a traditional picnic lunch of hamburgers and hot dogs, all prepared on a grill by the principal. Everyone brought some sort of dish to pass around. Not wanting to take the time to cook something, Tim had gone to the local Kroger deli and bought some potato salad. Four other people had also brought potato salad.

Dan and Tim sat together at a table of other teachers. Even at a picnic, there was a sort of separation between the teachers and the non-teaching staff. Tim noticed the separate groups and decided it was probably because they were all sitting with the people they interacted with the most.

After lunch, some of the people went to the beach to swim, others rented row boats. Someone had brought a pontoon boat. For his part, Tim wanted to take a walk among the gently swaying trees. Dan joined him.

They hadn’t gone far when there was a warning shout, Look out!

Tim’s first instinct was to look for danger, then for who was shouting. He didn’t see either. Dan had stopped when he did. Tim asked Dan, Did you hear that?

Hear what? Dan replied.

Someone shouting to ‘watch out.’

Dan cocked his head to one side, listening before responding, No. I didn’t hear anything.

After few seconds, they continued their walk.

Just as Tim was about to write off the warning, they both heard a loud cracking sound over their heads. They were under the skeleton of an old tree and one branch directly overhead was splitting. A quick mental calculation told Tim they didn’t have time to avoid being hit, but that didn’t stop them from trying. Dan ran forward and Tim back peddled, watching the limb as he went. Since he wasn’t watching where he was going, he stumbled and fell on his back. The main part of the heavy limb was easily a foot thick and falling right for him. Tim was sure he’d be crushed.

But the descent of the branch seemed to slow. Tim scrambled backward, not taking his eyes from the descending doom. When he was back far enough, the branch’s fall sped up and it crashed to the ground in front of him. A few small offshoots of the branch splintered and hit him, but none of them did any damage.

He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself.

Dan called to him, Tim, are you all right?

Yeah, he answered. Are you?

Yeah, I’m fine. That was the damnedest thing I ever saw.

The two men made their way toward each other. They examined the branch and then looked each other over.

You’re bleeding, Dan said, pointing to Tim’s left cheek.

When Tim put his hand to his cheek, his hand came away with a blood smear. Only then did he feel the sting of the cut. Does it look bad? he asked.

No, it’s just a scratch. I don’t see how you avoided being flattened by that limb.

I don’t understand either, Tim responded. When I tripped and looked up, I thought I was going to be killed or badly hurt. Then the branch seemed to slow down as it fell. I guess that was just my perception in a dangerous situation. Everything seemed to slow down.

No, Dan drawled, I saw it too. I looked back and the branch seemed to hang in the air. It must have gotten hung up on some other branches or something.

Another man came running up. Are you all right? he asked them.

Yeah, we’re all right. Thanks for the warning.

What warning? the man asked. Pointing over his shoulder to where he had been, he explained, I was over there taking a picture of the tree. I did notice the limb moving in the camera frame. When you two walked into the picture, I realized the limb was about to fall, but I didn’t have time to say anything. Looking at Tim, he said, I can’t believe you avoided being hit.

Me either, Tim said. If it wasn’t you who shouted, who was it?

The three men turned to look at the tree and the place where the branch had broken off. Examining the place from different angles, there didn’t seem to be any other branches that could have held up the one that fell. Finally, they looked at each other and shook their heads.

I don’t know, Dan concluded. You’re just one lucky guy.

Tim stared at the fallen limb. That, or God really does send angels to watch over people. I don’t usually think that way, but I can’t explain it in any other way. I’ve always believed there was a scientific reason for anything that happens, that if all the facts were known, everything could be explained. Tim did believe in a God who was active in the world, but he had never believed God would intervene in the course of natural events.

When the other man returned to taking pictures, Dan said, Tim, you said something about a shouted warning. I didn’t hear anything.

Someone shouted, ‘Watch out!’ I’m sure of it, Tim explained.

Putting his hands up to stave off an argument, Dan said, Hey, I believe you. All I’m saying is I didn’t hear anything.

After a pause, Tim said, Dan, I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve had enough of this picnic. Are you about ready to go home?

Yeah, Dan replied. Whatever happened, I think we’ve used up all the luck we have for the day.

The next morning, Tim woke at his usual time and, before shaving, examined the scratch on his face. Dan had been right. It wasn’t deep, just enough for there to be some blood and a bit of stinging. He shaved, trying to avoid drawing the razor over the wound, then showered and dressed.

He met Barb in the hall outside the Bible study room before class started. Looking at his cheek, she asked, What happened to you?

Tim chuckled and said, I had an argument with a tree. I won. I tore the tree limb from limb.

Before Barb could ask more, the buzzer rang. She handed him a slip of paper. Here’s the caretaker’s address and phone number. It would probably be better if you went up Tuesday, but if you have to go Monday, just call and let Mark know. He’s expecting you. He said to check at the gas station for his whereabouts.

Thanks, Tim answered, taking the slip of paper and tucking it in his shirt pocket. I’ll plan on going up on Tuesday.

5

He had planned on getting up early to drive south. However, the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray. That day was no different. Waking up slowly, he fumbled through getting dressed and making breakfast. He dropped a camera and a pair of binoculars, along with a notebook and a couple of pens, into a small backpack and he was on his way.

Traffic wasn’t bad as he drove his light blue Subaru Outback east from town and then intersected the state road that went south to the village of New Albion. The name sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure where he’d heard it. He drove for about an hour and a half, the last hour on a two-lane state highway that wound through tree-covered hills and freshly-planted farm fields. The sky was a cobalt blue and the temperature was ideal, at least to his way of thinking.

His GPS told him he would have to turn right in a half mile. The road he turned onto was only a step or so above being gravel. Tim began to wonder if the GPS was leading him astray. There were no houses on either side of the road.

He continued to trust the electronic guidance, and when it said four hundred yards to his destination, he topped a hill and saw the village laid out below. There was a white hand-painted sign reading New Albion Village Limit, Population 221 and just beyond was a white house with multicolored flowerbeds in the front yard.

The road continued through the center of town. After a few old—but nicely maintained—houses, there was a gas station. Across the street was a store that doubled as a grocery store and a hardware store. Next to the hardware store was a small café. It had a sign on the window: Ginny’s Place. Across the street from the café, next to the gas station, there was a small white church with a sign over the door reading New Albion Church. It didn’t have any denominational markings. There was one cross street just beyond the church and the café. When he looked down the street, he could see a few houses.

He thought the village would qualify as quaint. Then he corrected himself. The village looked backward, as if it had been pulled out of time.

There were cars parked along the street, but there were no parking meters. A nondescript black Chevy and a red bubble gum machine sat to one side of the gas station. A couple of people who happened to notice him waved in greeting. He didn’t think that would happen back home.

Tim had been told to check at the gas station and tell the attendant he was there to see the Barret Cottage. The station attendant would direct him to Mark Jacobs. He parked to the side of the station and went in. On one side of the station there were the usual convenience store items: candy, chips, and other snack foods. On the other side was a desk with a uniformed woman sitting behind it.

She looked at him for a several seconds without saying anything. It was almost as if she were looking past him while actually looking at him. Instinctively, Tim turned and looked behind him to see if someone else was there. When he turned back, she said, Hello, can I help you?

I was told to ask here for directions to Mark Jacobs, he replied.

She