Read Online A Widow's Curse by Phillip Depoy - Free Book Online Page B

morning.
    Andrews had insisted on espresso before I told any of my Conner Briarwood stories. We were all on our third cup, sitting down in the darkened living room, when I began.
    â€œA bwbach, ” I told them, “is a goblin with a relatively sweet spirit, often responsible for good deeds in exchange for strong drink. A bwbach generally disapproves of abstinence in any fashion and enjoys nothing more than good ale, a clay pipe, and a seat close to the fire.”
    â€œHere we go.” Shultz clapped his hands, delighted as a child.
    â€œDon’t encourage this,” Andrews warned, mock disdain dripping from his words.
    â€œConner always told a story of his departure from Wales,” I went on, ignoring them both, “that included a bwbach. He said he was walking across a field toward a waterfall for a drink when something tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around and saw himself: A man his mirror image stared back at him. The man grinned and said, ‘Have a cup!’ and handed Conner a bit of ale. Conner declined because he was a Calvinist and would not touch alcohol. ‘Then have you a pipe!’ the doppelganger charged Conner. But Conner did not care for tobacco, even as a young man. ‘Well at least you can shake my hand!’ the man demanded. Conner offered his hand; the thing took it but then let it go immediately. ‘Cold as ice!’ it pronounced. ‘I must ask you to get out of my country. You’re no fit Welshman!’ At that, the man returned to his natural form, a grinning wraith with barely human features. Conner nodded and left his native land at sunrise on the very next day.”
    â€œDid he really?” Shultz asked Andrews, voice hushed.
    â€œHe did,” I answered. “Though his exodus probably had more to do with the fact that his mother was dead and his father had little use for him.”
    â€œBut that’s the story he told?” Andrews wanted to know.
    â€œAlways. And when I began to study folk stories as an adult, I came to realize just how significant a bit of psychology it was that Conner faced himself—the form of a spirit that looked like him—in order to leave home. He seemed to be telling himself that if he stayed in Wales, he’d become nothing more than a hot-blooded drunk, sit around the fire smoking, and never amount to anything.”
    â€œThat’s what that story means?” Shultz sat back on the couch.
    â€œSo he went to Ireland and killed a man instead.” Andrews’s arch voice insulted the air. “Then fled to America.”
    â€œThis just gets better and better.” Shultz was completely awake now and clearly overtaken by the turn of events.
    His hair was a mess, his eyes sparkled; a grin seemed to defy the constraints of his facial muscles. In that instant, I couldn’t imagine why I had ever suspected him of anything more than overeating.
    â€œThis is all new to you,” I said to him softly.
    â€œAs a two-day pup,” he shot back happily.
    I wasn’t completely ready to give over to him, but I wasn’t going to be calling the police about him, either.
    Andrews slumped down, and his voice warmed.
    â€œI begin to see why you’re acting so strangely. It’s quite a coincidence that a man you’d never heard of called you about a coin minted by your great-grandfather.”
    â€œIt wasn’t minted by my great-grandfather,” I said patiently. “He didn’t stay in Wales, he didn’t take up the family business, and he was born sometime in the late 1800s. The coin’s much older than that, I believe.”
    â€œBased on what?” Andrews asked.
    â€œDoesn’t anybody believe me that I went to a jeweler in Atlanta?” Shultz shook his head. “The guy said it was old—took a guess at three hundred years.”
    â€œAnd when were you going to tell us that?” Andrews scowled.
    â€œI thought I did.” Shultz