Anna tucked the pendant into a drawer. She didn’t want to think about it. Not yet.
By the end of the second week, Lily was a different child. She was active, laughing, and reaching for toys. She weighed nearly nine pounds. Mark would come home and play with her, and the sound of Lily’s giggles filled the house.
But Anna hadn’t forgotten Mrs. Gable’s words. She called Martha.
— “Can we go back?” she asked. “She told me to come back in two weeks.”
— “Of course,” Martha said. “Sam will take us tomorrow morning.”
The cabin was just as they left it, smelling of sage and earth. Mrs. Gable was waiting on the porch. Anna stepped out of the truck with Lily, who was looking around curiously. Martha followed. Mrs. Gable beckoned them inside.
— “Let me see her,” the old woman said.
She checked Lily over, nodding with approval.
— “Good. She’s strong now. Very strong.”
Anna sat at the table. Mrs. Gable poured two cups of tea that smelled of peppermint. She sat down and looked Anna in the eye.
— “You want to know what happened,” she said.
— “Yes,” Anna nodded. “The doctors found nothing. But she was… she was dying.”
— “It wasn’t a sickness of the body,” Mrs. Gable said slowly. “It was a sickness of the spirit. Someone put a heavy shadow on that child.”
Anna felt a chill.
— “A shadow? You mean… a curse?”
— “Call it what you will. Bad intent, ill-will, a dark wish. Someone wanted that child gone, and they used a conduit to make it happen.”
Anna reached into her bag and pulled out the silver pendant. She set it on the table.
— “My mother-in-law gave her this. She insisted she wear it for ‘protection.'”
Mrs. Gable didn’t touch it. She just looked at it, her eyes narrowing.
— “It’s a nasty piece,” she whispered. “Full of resentment. But the object isn’t the source. It’s just the anchor. The source is the person who gave it.”
— “But why? Why would she hurt a baby?”
— “Some people care more about their plans than about life itself,” Mrs. Gable said. “To do this to an innocent, you have to have a heart like a dry well.”
She stood up and went to a shelf, returning with a small cloth pouch.
— “Take this. It’s a blend of bitter herbs. If you want to know the truth, use it.”
— “How?”
— “When she visits again, make a pot of tea. Put a pinch of this in everyone’s cup. To a person with an honest heart, it will taste like nothing but tea. But to the one who cast the shadow, it will be like drinking fire. Their body will reject it instantly.”
Anna gripped the pouch.
— “And then what?”
— “Then you’ll know,” Mrs. Gable said. “And you’ll have to decide what kind of mother you’re going to be. Because someone who tries once will try again.”
Anna thanked her and left. The drive home was silent. She had the pendant in her pocket and the herbs in her bag. She felt a cold, hard resolve growing inside her.
A few days later, the pendant sat on the kitchen table. Anna watched Lily playing on a mat. She looked so healthy, so vibrant.
— “Just to be sure,” Anna whispered.
She picked up the pendant and fastened it around Lily’s neck. Within ten minutes, the baby stopped playing. She became lethargic, her eyes losing their spark. She started to whimper. Anna immediately snatched the pendant off and threw it across the room. She scooped Lily up and held her until the baby started laughing again.
— “Never again,” Anna vowed.
Mark’s parents called that Friday. Sarah’s voice was as sharp as ever.
— “We’re coming by tomorrow. We want to see how the ‘heirloom’ is working.”
— “We’ll be here,” Anna said, her voice steady.
The SUV arrived at two p.m. Sarah and Charles walked in, looking as polished and out of place as before. Anna had the tea ready. She’d put a pinch of the herbs in every cup. Her heart was pounding, but her hands were steady as she poured.
— “Where is she?” Sarah asked, looking around. Lily was in her playpen, happily chewing on a toy.
— “She’s doing wonderful,” Anna said. “Sit down. Have some tea.”
Sarah sat, her eyes immediately going to Lily’s neck.
— “Where is the pendant? I told you she must wear it.”
— “It’s safe,” Anna said, setting a cup in front of her. “Drink your tea, Sarah.”
Charles took a sip of his tea and nodded.
— “Good blend,” he muttered, returning to his phone.
Sarah picked up her cup. She took a sip. Her face immediately contorted. She gasped, clutching her throat, and spat the tea back into the cup, some of it splashing onto the table.
— “What is this?” she choked out, her face turning a mottled red. “It’s poison! You’re trying to poison me!”
She ran for the kitchen sink, coughing and retching. Charles looked at his own cup, then at Sarah’s. He took a sip from Sarah’s cup.
— “It tastes fine to me, Sarah. Just tea.”
Mark stood up, looking confused.
— “Mom, what’s wrong?”
Anna stood up and walked to the drawer. She pulled out the silver pendant and set it on the table.
— “I know what you did, Sarah. I went to see someone who understands these things. The pendant was an anchor for your ill-will. You were draining the life out of my daughter.”
Sarah came back from the sink, her eyes wild.
— “That’s insane! You’re a lunatic!”
— “Then why can’t you drink the tea? Charles can. Mark can. But you? It’s fire in your throat, isn’t it?”
Sarah looked at the cup, then at Anna. The mask of the sophisticated grandmother slipped, revealing something ugly and desperate underneath.
— “I didn’t want to hurt the baby!” she screamed. “I wanted you gone! You were supposed to get sick, to leave, to give up! The baby was supposed to be ours!”
Silence filled the room. Mark looked at his mother as if seeing her for the first time.
— “Mom… what are you saying?”
— “We were losing everything, Mark!” Sarah turned on him. “The firm is failing. We needed that merger with the Miller family. You were supposed to marry their daughter! This… this girl ruined everything! I just wanted her out of the way!”
Charles sat down, burying his face in his hands.
— “Sarah, you went to a… you actually tried to do this?”
— “I did what I had to do for this family!” Sarah shrieked.
Mark stood there, frozen. Anna waited for him to say something, to throw them out, to protect them. But he just looked at the floor.
— “She’s my mother, Anna,” he whispered. “She’s… she’s just stressed. She didn’t mean it.”
Anna felt the last thread of her marriage snap.
— “She tried to kill our daughter, Mark. Whether she meant to or not, she did it.”
— “We can get her help,” Mark said, his voice pleading. “But she’s family. I can’t just turn my back on her.”
Sarah straightened her coat, her composure returning like a suit of armor.
— “We’ll be taking the baby, of course. You’re clearly unstable, Anna. We have the best lawyers. You’ll never see her again.”
Anna didn’t say a word. She picked up Lily, went into the bedroom, and locked the door. She heard them arguing in the living room, heard the SUV pull away. Then she heard Mark knocking on the door.
— “Anna, let’s just talk. We can work this out.”
She didn’t answer. She waited until she heard him go into the kitchen. Then she packed a bag. Just the essentials. She grabbed her documents and the money she’d been saving from her diner tips.
She climbed out the bedroom window with Lily. She ran to Martha’s house.
— “I need to go,” Anna said, breathless. “They’re going to try to take her.”
Martha didn’t ask questions. She called Sam.
— “We’re taking you to the bus station in the next county,” Sam said. “They won’t look for you there.”
Martha pressed a wad of cash into Anna’s hand.
— “Go to my sister in Vermont. Here’s the address. She’ll take care of you.”
Anna hugged her, crying.
— “Thank you for everything.”
The bus ride was long. Anna watched the sunrise over the mountains, holding Lily tight. She was starting over with nothing, but she had her daughter. And she was healthy.
Years later, Anna owned a small bakery in a quiet Vermont town. Lily was a bright, happy girl who loved to help her mom with the cookies. They never heard from Mark or his parents again. Anna had filed for divorce from a distance, and Sarah’s legal threats had vanished when the family firm finally went bankrupt.
Sometimes, Anna would look at the silver pendant, which she kept in a locked box as a reminder. Not of the darkness, but of the strength she’d found to walk away from it. She had saved her daughter. And in doing so, she had saved herself.
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