The Witch's Voice Read online

  He was a young lawyer, whose boyish grin, determined jaw, and mop of medium brown hair reminded her a great deal of Matt Damon, when she first laid eyes on him. The lawyer that Matt Damon would have become in Rounders had he never dropped out of law school, she often thought.

  It was during the last six months on the night shift when he’d first found her. He was obviously working long hours and only had time to do his grocery shopping around eleven PM, just an hour before the store closed. The store was always almost completely deserted at that time. It’s hard to imagine a situation in which two young, attractive people would have failed to find one another, under the circumstances.

  He immediately launched into flirtatious joking, anxious to make a good impression on this lovely young girl, her thick dirty blonde hair tucked away in a neat bun, her eyes brimming with intelligence, and whose beauty he probably would have described as a dead ringer for Kate Winslet, one of his favorite actresses. When she handed him a card that explained she couldn’t speak, he was momentarily taken aback. But though a frustrating situation, he was intrigued. How was he going to find out what was inside of her?

  He would very unsuccessfully pretend to be shopping in whatever aisle that Wanda was stocking shelves. There was always some kind of workplace or courtroom anecdote he could share with her, and she always seemed to enjoy hearing the stories as much as he enjoyed telling them. In the middle of one particularly engrossing tale, unable to take his eyes off her, he absentmindedly grabbed a box of feminine product where she was shelving. Wanda tried very hard to keep a straight face when he finally noticed what he was holding.

  She wrote him a note. “Girlfriend?”

  “No. No girlfriend. No girlfriend. I uh . . . thought this was the cereal aisle. Oatmeal. I need oatmeal.”

  He backed away toward the center of the store. Looking back, he could see Wanda’s shoulders heaving with laughter. Yeah, it was kind of funny. And the last thing he minded was a laugh at his own expense. He was happy to give it to her.

  For that matter, he didn’t mind being challenged or questioned. He loved a good debate, which made the job of lawyer perfectly suited for him. If only this young woman could talk. He had already started to see glimpses of a bright, sparkling gem of a mind.

  One night, he was blathering on and on about how difficult it was to teach himself the guitar and how he was certain that he was at least halfway to the 10,000 hours that should guarantee him mastery of any subject.

  He waited patiently for Wanda’s written response, which was, “I thought the most interesting part of Gladwell’s book was the historical context of all those big accomplishments—especially for those big computer guys.”

  She had read Malcolm Gladwell! Oh, he had to get to know this woman better. But how?

  Wanda couldn’t lie to herself. Running into him was the highlight of her day. Even though she knew it couldn’t go anywhere. Still, she was unprepared for the level of disappointment that consumed her when the young lawyer disappeared from her life.

  It was right between her change from night to day shift. She had, in fact, given him a heads up that she was changing hours. Her new hours conflicted with his work hours, and still, he’d stop by a few times every week. Until he didn’t. He just vanished off the face of the earth.

  It was a heavy loss for Wanda. She scolded herself for the ridiculous fantasies that she had started to have about him in her future. He wasn’t like the other boyfriends. He was a man of real substance, a man of words and intelligence—a man who needed an equal. Perhaps he’d just figured out that she could never be that equal.

  The only person she could share her disappointment with was her deaf friend, Lydia Bradshaw. The two had met at a sign language class several years ago. For the longest time, Wanda had resisted learning sign language. After all, she wasn’t deaf. She could hear the world perfectly. And in learning sign language, there would be only a very small community of deaf people in Oyster Cove and the adjoining Cape area for her to talk to.

  But a small community is better than none. Loneliness and the need to talk to someone eventually pushed her into the class. It was one of the best decisions she had ever made. She and Lydia clicked immediately, aided in part by the fact that Lydia could read lips. Wanda could still mouth words to her friend, even without sound. Lydia was also already proficient in sign language and was in class as a tutor.

  She had lost her hearing when she was five years old. Her vocal cords were just fine, but not being able to hear herself, the difficulty of matching the new words that she learned in writing with sounds that she could only guess at . . . it was much easier for her to rely on signing to communicate.

  Some of the students in the class had been born deaf. In fact, most of the other students were quite young. Wanda was one of only a handful of adults. And she was quite mindful of the fact that, as much as she had been feeling sorry for herself since the accident, it couldn’t compare to the loss of hearing. She still had music and movies and television shows and podcasts. She could still tell when a car was coming and hear the sound of the streets, the birds, and the wind.

  And now in this very small context, she was learning how to speak again. She had additionally been given the gift of a very satisfying confidant. Lydia was always there to commiserate when the excesses of her family’s indifference and cruelties were weighing her down. Now that the lawyer had decided that a mute girl was not in his future, Wanda needed a shoulder to cry on.

  “That sucks,” Lydia signed. “Maybe he just got overwhelmed at work. Lawyers are supposed to work really insane hours.”

  “Or maybe, he found someone he can actually have a conversation with. He’s really, really attractive. I don’t think he’d have any shortage of options. Why would he choose me? He is such a big talker. I can tell that he loves the back and forth—you know, the good bantering. The teasing. Really talking about interesting ideas. That’s what he needs, and that’s what I can’t give him. He just finally figured that out,” Wanda signed back.

  “This is depressing. Shall we talk about my own dismal love life next?”

  “No. We should get some gelato. Our tongues can’t speak, but they still know what to do with gelato.”

  That brought a fit of silent chuckles from them both. It was enough to sustain Wanda’s spirits. A good friendship. A steady paycheck. An eavesdroppers paradise. And a hard-won resignation to her fate. So, Wanda persevered to her twenty-eighth year.

  *****

  The big news in town was that Misty Chandler had won the national Powerball—$360,000,000. She was the sole winner. She didn’t have to split it with anyone! What outrageous good fortune. Her BFF, Heather Kelton, the mayor’s wife, seemed genuinely happy for her. Perhaps now that Misty was filthy rich, Heather considered her to be an even more valuable companion.

  To her credit, Heather didn’t exhibit any untoward jealousy for her friend. Which would have been understandable. The two of them had been playing the lottery since before either of them was married. Like a lot of lottery enthusiasts, it provided a slim hope for fantasies of a grand future. Then they both married rather well. The Keltons had their triple salary and Misty had a fantastic alimony settlement. But old habits die hard, and the lottery tickets continued as a harmless compulsion. It had finally paid off.

  It’s hard to begrudge someone their excitement over such good fortune. Misty certainly couldn’t shut up about it.

  “I’ve got to start house shopping in Hyannis. There’s a couple of gorgeous old mansions for sale. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Of course, I’ll be close enough for all of my Oyster Cove friends to visit. In fact, I should throw a big housewarming after the decorations are in. Oh, I know what I need to do! There’s this interior designer in Manhattan who did Meryl Streep’s and Jennifer Lopez’s houses. I was just reading about her. I absolutely can hire her now. Fill the new house up with anything and everything. I can’t wait to get the money deposited. I can’t wait.”

  Wanda
listened with interest, and she didn’t like to judge too harshly, but she did wish that Misty could be a little quieter about her newfound wealth. After all, the store was still filled with teachers and farming families and hungry old ladies whose troubles may have felt a bit magnified in the face of such unfathomable and exclusive good fortune.

  Little did Wanda Macomber know that she was about to hit her own jackpot.

  Ruby Townsend, a young medical assistant, was at Holloways picking up lunch for herself and Doctor Harold Svenson, her employer. It may sound a bit menial, but she didn’t mind at all. He was a very gifted man, performing medical miracles, and she was proud to play a small part in his practice. She also needed to pick up some coffee, tea, and creamer for their office.

  In the coffee aisle, Wanda was kneeling on the floor, stocking boxes of tea.

  “Excuse me,” Ruby asked. “There is a brand of tea with a British variety on it. I can’t remember the name. It comes in a red box. Do you know the one I mean?”

  Wanda reached for her notepad and wrote, “We don’t stock that brand anymore. I’m really sorry.”

  But Ruby’s mind was already on weightier matters. “I’m sorry. Can you . . . can you hear me?”

  Wanda nodded and wrote, “I’m not deaf. My vocal cords don’t work.”

  Ruby’s mind started spinning with possibilities. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Wanda, and I hope to see you again soon.”

  Well, that was unexpectedly friendly. Some people were a little put out when the food they were searching for was out of stock—although Wanda wasn’t exactly sure why it was such a pleasure to meet her. But some people are just uber positive.

  Ruby hurried quickly back to Dr. Svenson’s office. He was a transplant physician and a man whose medical mission in life had been rejuvenated by the death of one Lilith Hazelwood. She had formerly been the most powerful witch living in Oyster Cove. Now, all that was ostensibly left of her was a collection of invaluable organs and body parts, some of which had already been transplanted with remarkable results. And some were still “on ice,” waiting for the next unwitting recipient.

  Ruby quickly apprised the doctor of Wanda’s disability. “Can you do something for her? Has there ever been that kind of transplant?”

  “I have never done it. I think it has only been done twice. But yes, vocal cords have been transplanted. Windpipe, larynx, and the thyroid should best accompany such a procedure. And from Lilith Hazelwood, we have all things. It is still experimental, but . . . I don’t see why not.”

  Ruby led Dr. Svenson back to Holloways and pointed Wanda out to him.

  “My name is Dr. Svenson. I’m a transplant specialist. May I have your full name, please?”

  Wanda wrote, “Wanda Macomber.”

  “Ms. Macomber, I think that I can restore your voice. I have a donor whose vocal cords can be used for a transplant procedure. I cannot give you any guarantees. Well, yes, I can. I can guarantee that I’ll do everything in my power to return your voice to you. If that is what you wish. What do you say?”

  The answer should have been a wild, loud, screaming, enthusiastic yes, if only internally. If this were actually happening, that’s how Wanda would probably respond. But the thought of just getting her voice back after all these years was too good to be true. Which made it very hard to trust. Wanda nodded slowly, not wanting to start believing in this possibility, only to have her hopes dashed.

  *****

  Wanda could only imagine how surprised her stepmother and stepsiblings would be to hear about this operation. It was, after all, a pretty amazing development. She could only imagine the looks on their faces.

  They were all at home, of course. None of them had a job. Oh, they had drifted in and out of employment over the years. But the house was paid for, and Wanda’s salary easily covered food and utilities for everyone. They were a thoroughly unmotivated bunch. What time they spent in the house was usually in front of computer games and soap operas. This operation would surely be the biggest news that had happened to the family in quite some time. But in hindsight, Wanda should have known better.

  “Is your insurance going to cover this?” her stepmother fussed. “Because we don’t have any extra money. It sounds awfully expensive.”

  Wanda handed a note to her stepmother that said, “Pro bono.”

  “Hmmph. I wish I could get pro bono face work done. How come plastic surgeons don’t do pro bono?”

  “Are you going to be out of work for a long time?” Her stepsister asked. “We really can’t go without your income for more than a few days.”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” her stepbrother taunted. “Now we’re going to have to put up with her voice again. Oh, the beautiful silence. It was nice while it lasted.”

  He thought he was being funny. Wanda certainly didn’t want anyone to see that she was hurt by their lack of support. This was a really big deal. This was a big huge, honking, life-changing deal. And they were talking about it as if it were an inconvenience. Or a joke.

  *****

  There was one other person besides Wanda’s medical team who looked forward to its success, and that was the deceased herself. Lilith Hazelwood was a restless ghost, frustrated that the loss of her body also meant the loss of her powers, and furious that the lightning bolt that did her in was undeniably sent by a sinister adversary. She would not rest until she found out who had done it, why they had done it, and how she was going to deliver to them the excruciating deathblow that they deserved.

  It was with this goal in mind that she possessively watched organs transplanted into one human body after another. Powerful organs were a gift for these weak humans, and they had her sacrifice of life to thank for their new strengths and abilities. But she expected something in return.

  *****

  As Wanda drifted off into the anesthesia, she was overcome with fears that regaining her voice, her weak, shy, nasally voice, would lead to the same timid, insecure, ignored existence. Fortunately, Doctor Svenson had enough optimism for them both.

  He was by her side twelve hours later when she regained consciousness. Wanda’s hand reached the bandages on her throat.

  “Easy, Ms. Macomber. There will probably be a great deal of soreness. We cannot expect too much right away. I would normally expect several days of healing time before you can speak with any comfort or clarity. But that’s all right. There’s no hurry.”

  “Easy for you to say. I—” Wanda began and then stopped, startled at the sound of her own voice.

  Dr. Svenson was equally shocked. Not only could Wanda speak, and not only was her voice strong and clear, but it was an extraordinary model of smoky, sultry appeal. It belonged in the great historical pantheon of women’s voices that included Lauren Bacall, Eartha Kitt, Kathleen Turner, and Demi Moore, to name a few. It was low, throaty, and mesmerizing, even to its new owner.

  “This voice. Where did this voice come from?” Wanda asked, amazed.

  Dr. Svenson was actually familiar with Lilith Hazelwood’s voice. He had been a small child, growing up in Oyster Cove, when she was a mysterious, arresting, somewhat scary woman living in the town. After a long career in Boston, he returned to Oyster Cove and had seen her again on a few more occasions. The fact that he was in his sixties and that she should have been in her nineties, while actually appearing to be in her late thirties, confirmed for him the local rumors that she was, in fact, a witch.

  He’d never spoken to her directly, but he had overheard her from time to time speaking with worthier companions than himself. And her voice was impossible to forget—usually saying something rather negative or threatening, but still fascinating to listen to all the same.

  “It is the donor’s voice. It is an exact reproduction of her voice, if I’m not mistaken. I don’t know why, but I did not anticipate that it would be so similar to the original. Identical, really. Still, the important thing is that the operation was a success.”

  Wanda’s eyes filled with tears. “Y
es. It is. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “I’d like to document it with some tests and videos, and some follow-up appointments, of course. But I don’t think it’s too early to call this a complete victory. I’m very happy for you, Ms. Macomber.”

  “Call me Wanda, Dr. Svenson. Oh, no. Every time I try to say something, I get distracted by this voice and I lose my train of thought.”

  “Perfectly understandable, Wanda. It’s really quite arresting.”

  Wanda sat up in the hospital bed and swung her legs over the edge.

  “I know that you feel are well, but—”

  “But you’re going to let me go home,” Wanda said hopefully.

  “I’m going to let you go home. Even though I was not planning on it. Let me go get the release papers.”

  Although she had no one to talk to, Wanda still needed to hear her new voice. “The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.” That innocent line was filled with passionate resonance. This voice almost had a life of its own.

  Lilith Hazelwood watched impatiently beside Wanda, unseen. “You have already tapped into the powers of my voice and failed to notice it. Hmmph. And your talent does not extend to seeing me. None of you has yet been able to do that. An intermediary is unavoidable.”

  “Wanda Macomber. Wanda Macomber. My name sounds so much more important in this new voice.”

  “You will soon know its full power.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was Lydia who gave Wanda a ride home.

  “So, it worked? It worked completely? Your voice is completely restored?” Lydia signed at the stop light.

  “Completely. Except it doesn’t sound like my old voice. It’s deeper. It’s more . . . important. It’s how someone else used to sound. The donor. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have this voice for an entire lifetime. I guess I’m going to find out.”

  “I suppose now you’re going to be completely normal. You can hear and you can speak. We’re going to have to kick you out of the misfit community.”