Chapter five: Winter rose’s

 The inside of the car had a smooth leather interior and William sat in a navy-blue suit. It was pressed to perfection and his crisp white shirt contrasted with the blue hue of the expensive suit that William wore. William was looking at his daughter, a small smile playing on his lips like a cat that caught the mouse as it was about to play. The look made Ivy shudder. Her skin pricked, and the air felt heavy and felt like it was buzzing. It was a strange feeling in the car with them, one she didn't quite understand and didn’t like.

She looked at the streets they passed with herbal shops and boutiques, fruit markets and other small places to fulfill the various needs of the people that lived on Mayfair Island. The whole Island was relaxed and self-sufficient, it seemed that people rarely left Mayfair and Ivy wondered why so many seemed hell-bent on staying on this Island. What was it about this place that kept them content to stay here their whole life? Ivy couldn't help but wonder why so many residents of the island chose to stay there. Maybe she only wondered because she grew up in Shoreside city, which made sense to her. It wasn't like the relaxed flow of people didn't feel inviting, and she could see the appeal, but this was all so foreign.

Ivy shifted on the leather seat trying to calm the anxiety that swelled in her stomach, tightening her chest and brewing that all-too-familiar feeling bubbling to the surface. Ivy wondered if small talk would take her mind off the feeling, but in all honesty this man lent no comfort to Ivy. William was a stranger to her essentially. She was told about him by her mother growing up, but stories and growing up with the person, living a life with them were two different experiences. She wasn't going to pretend they were the same or pretend that this man was her dad. He wasn't going to ever hear that word come out of her mouth with sincerity. Never toward this man. Looking at William as if he were hearing her thoughts, he spoke.

"Ivy dear, I know this may all feel so strange to you, but I'm your father. Whether you choose to acknowledge that or not is up to you, but I'm here with you to tell you the truth."

Ivy restrained the eye roll that was clawing to come out. She looked into his gray eyes, a reflection of her own, well, really hers, a reflection of his. The same gray hue mirrored back at her. An intensity in them. One of determination, she felt it. What he was determined for was yet to be seen and Ivy wasn't sure she was ready for it. She continued to examine the man who gave her half of her genetics.

She noticed they both had the same raven black hair, his was just peppered with gray hair. Mostly near his temples. Something her mother always remarked was annoyingly attractive. That a man like him should have been ugly. Ivy found herself agreeing. She did know her father looked what most people called conventionally attractive. He should have been ugly to match his personality. His sharp face and strong jawline made him look like a villain in a way. Something about William screamed villain. Ivy wasn't sure if it was because she had overheard her mother telling Dylan about this man sleeping with women when he pleased or verbally abusing her mother or something deeper. A cold shiver jolted down Ivy's spine and made her sit up straight.

"I appreciate your generosity for the tickets and sharing information, William, but to me, you aren't my father. I didn't grow up with you fulfilling that role. Yes, biologically speaking, I have your DNA but that's where the connection ends."

Ivy spoke matter-of-factly, that made Williams' gleeful smile fade and a harsher look flash across his face before reapplying the mask of joy and warmth. A typical Mayor's smile and happy-toned voice dripping with a fake cadence that made Ivy want to jump out of the car. Dylan was so real and genuine. Ivy grew up with her mother's honesty and warmth. This man-made Barbie seem real. They arrived at Williams' lavish house in silence. Ivy watched the large iron gates open as the car pulled up in front of an old stone mini mansion with ornate stonework and large windows. The double-storied large home was old, most likely built when the island was well established, and money and materials flowed more easily to the island than when people first arrived here. The property had faded gray brick paths, manicured lawns and shaped hedges, rose bushes with red and rare black roses strategically placed in a beautiful pattern in well-placed garden beds accompanied by low-lying flowers and grass to frame off the garden beds. This whole place looked to be like some old romance novel you'd study in English lit.

The driver opened the car for Ivy to stand on the faded stone path. The cool air carried the scent of the sea and freshly cut grass, and the strongest scent was the roses. Their fragrant sweet scent drifted in the air hanging around Ivy. Her nose was delighted by the mix of scents. "Winter Rose's," Ivy whispered to herself. Her mother loved them, always had. She wondered if they were in the garden because maybe William might have cared, or it was just some coincidence.

William guided Ivy into the house through a large foyer with dark oak flooring that was polished to perfection, pillars and large paintings of people Ivy didn't know but assumed were people from William's side of the family. They walked down a long-carpeted hall with rooms branching off it, behind large double doors in the same wood that shone in the foyer. They went to a large living room with a grand piano and large windows allowing light in, and the view of the back of the property.

There were more manicured gardens back there, more stone paths and patches with a gazebo made with what looked to be painted metal and some vines that grew around the poles in between and framed the gazebo. It wasn't the lush green it'd be in the spring. Further away past a low brick fence line was what looked to be a cliff line and probably had a beautiful ocean view when it wasn't misty and gray in the winter. The mist blanketed this island, almost hiding it. Like a forgotten world.

"It’s a beautiful property you have here, William." Ivy spoke softly, looking out the window drawn to the gazebo. Her eyes didn't dare move from that spot. Something about it felt familiar, drawing her in. William asked the women in a simple black dress to fetch them tea.

"Please sit down Ivy, we have a lot to discuss. We have so much to catch up on and I want to organize a dinner for my parents, and your mother's parents, to meet you. Dylan is invited too."

Ivy's head snapped to face William. Her mind raced, analyzing what his plan was. They agreed to come here for information, not dinners and meet family, not on his terms at least. She was going to meet her mother's parents at her aunt Freda's or Lucile's place and maybe never meet Williams' parents. She didn't see any point in meeting anyone from William's side of the family if she was being honest with herself. Ivy looked at Williams' subtle fascial expressions, hoping to find out the hidden meaning in them. Was he going to withhold the information, sprinkling it slowly to keep her close by? To maybe control her with the information he had.

"William, I agreed to come here to learn the information you claimed. Not hint that my mother was hiding something. But I'm assuming the dinner is already organized, so I'll go to this dinner. Tell me what I want to know. No withholding information."

William smiled, there was excitement in his gray eyes, Ivy suddenly felt like she was falling into his plans perfectly, a feeling that replaced Ivy's gnawing anxiety with anger and frustration. She wanted the information, and he wanted to play games and was perhaps succeeding. As Ivy was about to say something, the women returned with a white and floral tea set that looked both expensive and old. It was in good condition but looked older than her. The women prepared their tea, nodded at William and closed the large wooden doors behind her.

Ivy walked from the window to a plush velvety seat in a rich wine-red colour. As she sat, the plush cushion dropped and hugged her body. It was supportive and comfortable. Ivy sipped the tea that was robust and sweet. It delighted her taste buds. She watched as William savored the delicious tea too. Ivy felt calmed down by the herbal delight and sighed. Her breath further calmed her and for a moment her worries felt smaller, and her heart rate slowed.

"Tell me what it is you think my mother forgot to inform me about William."

William placed his teacup down and readjusted his potion on his armchair. It matched the one Ivy sat on. He entwined his fingers and placed his fore arms on his thighs.

"You've heard about the Melas isles witch trail? The ones that ended in 1693 officially, but deeper research proves they ran until the 1700s.?"

Ivy nodded her head, looking at William, trying to figure out what they had to do with anything. Her mother loved history and told her about all the witch trails. she dug up facts that she shared excitedly. All the ones she could about their family too. Just then, like someone had turned on a light, the connections were made.

"Are you saying the family that came here, mum’s and your family, were from the witch trails? William, this isn’t a time for joking around. Please I want fact not fairytale.”

Ivy was told all about the trails, her mother loved to share the facts she managed to dig up. Hidden truths in plain sight. The women and children that were killed when they were innocent. As all were. No person could be a witch, or warlock. The women were burned, drowned or beaten as they were accused of witchcraft. Weren’t witches.

Most of the time, the only crimes committed were that women had spoken against the men in Melas Isle’s or that they could read and write. Nothing about them screamed guilty of witchcraft. A fact that had always angered Ivy. Witches weren't real, just like so many other superstitions-and super-natural beings were just made-up stories for people's entertainment or a warning for children.

"Next you'll be telling me that all beings of the superstitious stories told to scare child to behave and get to them to come home are real.”

Ivy said, with a tone filled with disbelief and frustration. Instead of telling her family history, he was trying to tell her a story about the witch trails. Ivy felt her frustrations deepen. William smirked at her; his eyes bright with glee. Ivy wondered what made him seem so excited. What about what he just told her was so connected to her mother's family.

“William, enough of this, I came for facts and honesty. You acted as if my mum had some secret. As if this Island held a truth, she never told me. She was a historian, and she never lied. I don’t believe you.”

William raised a brow. Like he was not believing that fact they weren't real. Like he truly believed in witchcraft and spells. Like women and children were in fact witches or guilty of practicing magic. Maybe they were herbalists. They could be seen as witchcraft. Ivy knew that to this day that knowledge was still treated like witchcraft. William spoke his voice calmer than previously as he channeled all the patience and understanding he could muster.

"Ivy, the thing is, witchcraft is more real than you've been led to believe. There is witchcraft in things we do daily. Perhaps you are using the craft fully unaware."