The Witch's Empathy (One Part Witch Series Book 8) Page 12

  “Erin, walk with me,” he said, not even responding to his friend because he was at a complete loss as to what to say to him.

  “Yeah, of course. You need to think things over,” Leo stammered. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the tab.”

  This generous offer was not gratefully received by either of his companions.

  Orlando and Erin walked all the way to the boardwalk, and then along the waves, right under the pier. Erin didn’t want to press Orlando into talking until he was good and ready. And if not today, then she needed to give him all the space he needed. She just wanted to be there to hold his hand.

  Of course, she could follow his thoughts, and they were the widest range of complex thoughts and reactions imaginable. Relief. Relief from the crushing guilt. Of course, this didn’t change the fact that a man had died. But he didn’t need to carry that on his shoulders anymore.

  “Leo’s career might very well be over now. But what a schmuck I must be to even care about his future. But I can’t help it. Leo was a great doctor. But it was almost as if it was mandatory that someone suffer, and Leo’s shift is up next.

  “If I get exonerated, I can go anywhere, could probably get consideration at some of the biggest hospitals.”

  “Where would you want to go?” Erin wondered.

  “I wouldn’t want to go anywhere. As long as you’re here in Oyster Cove, there’s nowhere else I’d want to be. Hey, what made you even ask that?”

  She hadn’t asked it. Not out loud. Orlando had heard her thoughts nonetheless. She had actually projected her thoughts directly to Orlando—the last stage of control over her mind that Delphine had foretold.

  With a big, long hug, Erin left Orlando to contemplate his change of future, as well as his change of past. It had been a long, long day already. And the last big event of the reunion—the final dance—was yet to come.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The theme for their class’s prom twenty years ago had been Brazilian Mardi Gras, and Isabel Ferreira had thought it only fitting to revisit this theme with a much higher budget allowance and more intoxicating drinks. There were palm trees, a blinding display of tropical color everywhere, infectious samba music, and entertaining capoeira performances all night long at a side stage.

  One of the servers at the buffet table elbowed one of her fellow employees. She then pointed in the direction of a fluffy white cat with black paws, who was perched on a high wooden beam, watching the bustle below with great interest.

  “What’s the cat doing here?”

  “Ms. Ferreira said it was okay.”

  “Yeah . . . but what is it doing here?”

  “The owner said . . . and I quote . . . that the cat had never been to a dance before.”

  The first server shrugged incredulously. “I’m . . . sure that’s true. So, we’re just supposed to ignore it?”

  “Not exactly. If he comes down and sits in front of the feijoada table, then we’re supposed to fix him a little plate.”

  Orlando was looking as dashing as could be. A long, meditative walk, a long nap, and a burgeoning optimism for future days had left him renewed. In many ways, he was a man set free from prison. And he was more than happy to have a party conveniently arranged to celebrate the occasion.

  Neither of them had attended their own prom. But tonight, they might as well have been the prom king and prom queen. If anyone in the reunion class hadn’t noticed their budding romance earlier, tonight, they were the undisputed focal point of speculation and gossip—the good kind of gossip.

  “She deserves every bit of happiness coming her way. She really does.”

  “She must’ve thought that her transplant was never coming. Seeing her this happy is just the best part of the reunion, isn’t it?”

  “His chin, her eyes. Admit it. They’re going to have some beautiful kids.”

  At last, Orlando and Erin had to acknowledge that they would have all the time in the world to wrap themselves around each other. But this would be the last night to talk to classmates in who knew how long. So, they decided to disperse and mingle.

  Erin walked passed chastened janitor Carter Dunn who was speaking to Mr. Chaplin. “I can come back again after the party is over. Hopefully, nothing bad will happen this time.”

  “That’s just fine, Carter. But this is everyone’s last chance to see each other, and I don’t want to rush them out. You enjoy a good night’s sleep. I’ll lock up and you can clean up in the morning.”

  Erin then joined a large group who were moping somewhat over the prospect of losing the best principal that Oyster Cove could ever have been gifted with.

  “There’s no way that Mr. Metcalf can fill Principal Chaplin’s shoes. I had some big problems when I was here, and there wasn’t a single adult I could talk to. But he called me into his office, and instead of yelling at me, or my being in trouble, all he wanted to do was listen and help.”

  “He was better than an uncle. He really felt like a father. Sure, a father who had 1200 other kids. But he cared about all of us. And when anyone needed his complete and undivided attention, we got it.”

  “You know, as a single mother, I was even considering moving back to Oyster Cove just so my kids could know him. Just so they could experience his support and his caring.”

  “My parents both lost their jobs, and we were facing one really bleak, disappointing Christmas. But somehow, the presents showed up, and the turkey showed up, and it wasn’t until ten years later that my mother told me that it was all Principal Chaplin’s doing.”

  “He paid my bus ride to get to college. I used up the last of my own money to pay off my mother’s bills before I left. What did I think I was going to do—walk to Boston? But he took care of it and also gave me money to get some food along the way. I’ve never forgotten that.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any way we could talk him into staying a little bit longer.”

  At this point, nearly everyone in the little group was near tears, but most especially Erin.

  “No,” she said. “He won’t be able to stay.” He’s very likely to spend the rest of his life in prison for the murder of Regina Gorman.

  Steeling herself for a confrontation that would pain her as much as it would pain him, Erin approached Principal Chaplin to claim her final dance.

  He was delighted to see her. The sight of her recovery and blossoming health never failed to bring a smile to his face. But he couldn’t help but notice that Erin was in a terribly somber mood.

  “I don’t mean to intrude, but is there something on your mind? I hate to think that anything might be disturbing your enjoyment of this evening. You and Orlando make for a beautiful couple, by the way.”

  Of course, he cares about whether I’m enjoying my evening. That’s the kind of man he is. He cares about everyone. Why am I the one who has to do this?

  “I’ve been thinking a whole lot about Regina Gorman. First, about when she died. When Carter Dunn came back at midnight, there was no one in the pool and he locked the school up. But then, when Isabel returned at two to see if Mrs. Gorman was still there looking for her purse, she saw her already dead and floating in the pool.

  “But how did Isabel get in if Mr. Dunn had locked up? Someone had unlocked the doors to get in, and then forgotten to lock back up when he left. There aren’t a whole lot of people with master keys, Mr. Chaplin. Just yourself and Mr. Metcalf, I believe. The Vice Principal had plenty of motive. He really thought he got cheated out of that promotion. But I don’t think he killed her. And I’m pretty sure that I know why you did.” Erin felt Mr. Chaplin’s body stiffen in response. Then he let out the longest, deepest sigh.

  “And why is that, my dear young friend?”

  “Because you loved us. Because Regina Gorman was a hurtful, hateful thing no one would ever inflict on their own children, and we were your children.”

  “Yes, just like my own children. I did love my students. I do. I even love the ones I haven’t met yet, the ones to come. I had
to protect them from the cruelty that she was so determined to inflict.”

  “And you couldn’t get rid of her—for reasons that are probably detailed in those journals of hers.”

  “The journals, yes, where I’m hidden in plain sight. I know that Mr. Metcalf was under the impression that Mr. P stood for Mr. Plummer. No, when she referred to that gentleman, she always called him The Plumber. I was Mr. P. That was P for. Principal.

  “We got together soon after my divorce, when I was feeling quite low. Our affair was of a short duration. I broke it off because I became worried about how it would ruin both our reputations. I didn’t want to lose the respect of students or their parents. She seemed content enough to protect our secret until the time came for me to choose my successor. And then she insisted that it be her. Or else. Or else all the secrets would come spilling out.

  “So, I allowed myself to be threatened, blackmailed. I even tried to talk myself into the hope that the school could survive her. But that night at the pool party, seeing her so drunk and showing her true colors—toward the custodian, toward her late husband’s son, and just looking at all the multitude of ways she had already harmed so many of our students—Jasmine—yes, Jasmine being only one of many.

  “Maybe one day, I’ll be able to say that I’m sorry for it. But every day since it happened, I’m just consumed with relief that I was able to protect my kids. Hmm. You’re rather brilliant, my dear. Very good at reading people. I suppose that it’s time to turn myself in.”

  Erin nodded sadly, trying to hold it together. There’d be time enough for tears later.

  “Not that I deserve it, but I have an enormous favor to ask of you.”

  Joel Chaplin had been a high school state swimming champion. But he had yet to take a dip in that beautiful state-of-the-art Olympic pool.

  “It took five long years of referendums and debates and budget shuffling to get Oyster Cove that new pool. It’s sort of my parting gift to the community, I suppose.”

  “And you have swim trunks in your office.”

  “I do.”

  No one who saw Erin Sweeney and Principal Chaplin slip out of the dance could have any idea where they were headed. With his access to the tell-tale master keys, they were able to enter the pool room and flip on the lights, and Erin went to sit in the audience bleachers while Joel Chaplin commenced his final and long-awaited swim.

  Swimming laps can be very meditative. Erin could see that Mr. Chaplin was becoming calmer and more resigned to his fate with every stroke. There was even an element of relief in having been found out. And he was terribly grateful to be submerged in cool freedom for one last time. It was a full half hour before he climbed out in happy exhaustion.

  Outside the school, they were headed to Erin’s car when he hesitated.

  “I’ve already asked for too many favors. But if I could spend the morning making a few calls to my nearest and dearest and getting my affairs in order—it’s been years since I revised my will—then I would be more than happy to surrender tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps she wouldn’t believe me.”

  “It doesn’t have to be tonight. Tomorrow before dinner would be okay. To give you time to get your affairs in order. By six o’clock, okay?”

  “If I have ever extended any kindness to you, Erin Sweeney, I am fully repaid. Six o’clock.”

  Erin watched him drive away. All of a sudden, she really wanted to be held by Orlando. Approaching the school, she saw two women stumbling out toward one of the side yards. Their thoughts were a bit muffled—she needed to get closer. By the time she was fifty yards away, she had swiftly assessed the situation and it wasn’t good. Carly Grimes was holding a gun on Mia Garland.

  Carly reacted to the sight of Erin. “Don’t come any closer. You shouldn’t be here. This has nothing to do with you. This is between me and her. Everything bad about my life—my bad marriage, the way I feel about myself—it all started with her. I never had a chance to be happy. She stole that away from me. And not just me. I saw her do it to so many people. It’s time that she paid for all the harm she’s done. And I’m going to see to it.”

  “I am so, so sorry, Carly,” Mia whimpered. “I was completely awful. I know it. But I’m different now, I really am.”

  “Shut up! Adults don’t have nearly as many opportunities to be bullying as they did when they were young. Is that what you’re patting yourself on the back for? That you’re not surrounded by hundreds of people—shy people, weak people—you can play with like they’re toys?”

  Erin tried to draw closer, but Carly wasn’t having it. She pointed the gun at Erin.

  “Stay away. There’s no reason for you to get hurt over this. I told you this between me and her.”

  Carly was beyond listening to reason. At least not from her. Or from Mia. Maybe there was only one person in the whole world who could convince Carly Grimes that there was a future, a belated happiness somewhere out there waiting for her. It was time for Erin to put her newfound ability to project thoughts into Orlando’s head to work and just hope that she wasn’t going to scare him out of his wits.

  “Orlando, it’s me, Erin. Don’t look around for me. I’m nowhere near you. I have the ability to read minds because my new kidneys came from a witch. And now I also have the ability to send my thoughts to you. I know that it seems impossible, but you’re hearing me loud and clear right now, so it is possible.

  “There is no time to waste. Get Mark Mahoney and bring him out to the east lawn. Carly Grimes is holding a gun on Mia Garland, and Mark is the only one who can put an end to this. Find him now. Bring him now.”

  “This cannot be happening.”

  “Yes, it is happening. I’m sorry to tell you under such dire circumstances, but I really need you to get a move on. ASAP.”

  “He’s . . . he’s dancing with someone.”

  “Cut in. And get him out here.”

  Erin was going to have to stall. “Mark Mahoney is still in love with you. He sees that you’re married, but he also sees that things aren’t going well, and he doesn’t want to push you, but he thinks that you can have a second chance at happiness. Together.”

  “That can’t be true. Even if he did like me back when we were young—and I always hoped that he did—I’m not the same person he used to like. Look at me. Look at what I’ve become. A lunatic. A killer.”

  “Not a killer yet. You haven’t killed anyone. We can all walk away from this. We absolutely can. And if you do, you’ll have Mark by your side.”

  “He’ll despise me if he knows what I was about to do.”

  “Then . . . let’s not tell him,” Erin said, slowly sidling up to Carly. “He’s on his way here right now, but if we could just get rid of this gun . . .” She gently, gently laid her hands on Carly’s hand and the gun, sliding it out of Carly’s grip.

  Orlando and Mark were running in their direction. Erin quickly slipped the gun into her purse. When Mark ran up, there was something about the look on his face that caused Carly to burst into tears and throw herself in his arms. Erin sighed. Best to leave those two alone and let love work its healing magic. She pulled a stunned Mia away from the scene and told her to go back into the dance.

  Orlando hadn’t said a word, not out loud.

  “I still don’t believe it.”

  “Then why are you speaking to me with your thoughts? What exactly would it take for you to believe?”

  “Are you trying to tell me that you can hear every single thought of mine? All this time? Because that’s a lot of thoughts.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “So that means that . . . that means you could hear when I was thinking about . . . about . . .”

  He was referring to a few choice racy, explicit thoughts that had crossed his mind in the past week.

  Erin started giggling uncontrollably.

  “Swell.”

  “Some of it was pretty acrobatic. You don’t, by any chance, own a copy of The Kama Sutra, do you? Uh, huh. I thought so.”
<
br />   It was time to let Orlando off the hook and get back to the spoken word. She walked up close to him, right in his face.

  “You have a cut on your lip.”

  “That was from an angry clamshell from the other night.”

  “Would it feel better if I kissed it?”

  Orlando hesitated for only one split second. It was a classic died and gone to heaven moment. “I think that a kiss would make it very happy.”

  Turns out, Erin was a great kisser. And he was no slouch either. Especially now that he felt unburdened and worthy of her. Orlando had wondered for so long whether Erin was truly attracted to him and whether she was as head over heels about him as he was about her. And now he could do more than hope that she felt the same way. He knew it with absolute certainty.

  You don’t have to be a mind reader.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: EPILOGUE

  Life in prison was not unpleasant for Joel Chaplin. He accepted his punishment without any resistance. It was entirely fitting that he should spend the rest of his life behind bars. But it was not destined to be idle time, either mentally or physically. He was a man with leadership qualities and vision.

  He was never going to get out of prison, but most of the men around him were, and he took a great interest in their prospects and the kind of lives they would have after leaving prison. Would they be able to find jobs? Would they be able fight the stigma of being an ex-con? Would any local businesses be willing to participate in hiring programs for them? Erin Sweeney hooked him up with her new friend Zoey Proctor, whose time behind bars had given her a strong interest in prison reform.

  Perhaps unfortunately, some of his former students had become inmates, and he took a keen interest in encouraging them to turn their lives around. A lot of them would have turned a cynical back on any other kind of attempts to mentor them, but he was able to reach them and to speak to them in a way no one else could. They believed that he cared, and they allowed themselves to be guided and influenced by him. After all, it was Mr. Chaplin!