The Witch of Belladonna Bay Read Online Free

from some little crazy town called Fairview up north. Only the view wasn’t so fair, as far as I’ve been told. That little town sits right across from its own misted island, one just as cursed as Belladonna Bay. Only Jackson told me that Naomi’s island was rumored to have mermaids.
    I sure wish Belladonna Bay had mermaids.
    Anyways, The Little Prince belonged to Naomi, and she read it to my daddy and my aunt Bronwyn.
    It’s the story of a pilot and a little boy, and the pilot, see, he’s stranded in the desert. But then the Little Prince comes along and helps him to understand all sorts of things. And that’s when they become best friends. But mostly, it’s a book about bein’ practical and strange all at the same time. Which is exactly how I like to see myself.
    When Bronwyn left, she tried to take the book with her, but Jackson wouldn’t let her. The cover ripped a little when they were fightin’, but I don’t care. I like broken things.
    Like my daddy. He’s been broken since before I was born. It makes him more interestin’. Jamie used to say it ain’t good, how much I love my daddy. But I don’t think you can love anyone or anything too much.
    So I said, “But I love you, Mr. Jamie Smarty-pants. I love you almost, if not as much, as I love my daddy.”
    We were sitting up in a tree, and his head was crowned with a wreath of leaves I’d made. The sun shone through his dark curls and the heat made his cheeks pink. He was more beautiful than any boy or girl I’d ever seen, except for me. But you couldn’t compare me and Jamie because he’s a boy and I’m a girl. Other than that, we got a lotta similarities. We’re both dark and small with hair black like the night. Daddy tells me I’m just like Snow White. Dark hair and pale skin.
    I know what I see when I see my reflection in other people’s eyes. Like those Towners and Old-timers. They see my potential . But Jamie didn’t ever need to live up to his potential. He’s just plain beautiful. Born that way and stayin’ that way. Even if only in my memory.
    He laughed a little in the tree that day and snuck a kiss on my cheek. I moved from my branch to his and wrapped my arms around him, letting our black hair mingle. Our congruities always made my heart sing. Made me feel less alone, too. Congruity means bein’ similar, and it’s one of my very favorite words.
    And because we were both so amazing, me and Jamie, most other folks let us be. And the whole town of Magnolia Creek just lived in the shadow of our usefulness. Because we were gonna be famous together. We were bright shining stars ’bout to shoot off this tired planet and into the sky. Then we’d rain stardust into the eyes of every living thing this side of Mobile. Or the whole world, if you wanna think big.
    Now I’d have to rethink that particular dream, ’cause Jamie disappeared into the dark, velvet Alabama night. Leaving a whole lot of blood. Blood that sent my daddy to prison and brought my aunt Bronwyn home.

 
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    Bronwyn
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    I tried to hang up the phone, but I was shaking too much. Ben placed his hand over mine, and we hung the phone up together. Then he gently led me to the front porch, a place that always calmed me. I’m happiest outdoors.
    After we left Manhattan, we moved upstate. I’d been working as a freelance photojournalist for about six years and had become well known enough to have a decent savings (not that I needed one, Jackson’s checks kept on keepin’ on). The subtle notoriety brought me more of what I really liked about my job. The running away part. I was called when anyone needed really good pictures of a place no one else wanted to go. War-torn nations were my specialty.
    We decided to move to the forest, both of us inspired by the trees. And it was on the porch—the porch that sold us on the house before we’d even walked