“There, you see?” Marie smiled across the table. “The event coordinator has spoken.”
I moved forward in the line, picked up a cup of sparkling cider and returned to my spot on the sofa. My shoulders felt tight even as I sat and made small talk with Shannon about her daughter’s flower girl dresses. The conversations around me were of the wedding, of course, but also about the metaphysical: astrology, crystals, herbs, and I almost choked when I heard Ivy casually talking about spell casting in front of the children.
The last thing I needed was for Willow to overhear any of that. “Excuse me,” I said to Ivy, but she didn’t seem to notice.
From where she sat beside me on the couch, Holly nudged her sister with her foot “Ivy,” she said.
“What?” Ivy glanced at her twin first, and then to me.
“Y’all need to be careful what you’re saying in front of the little ones,” I said to the dramatic looking brunette.
“Seriously?” Ivy raised one darkened eyebrow.
“Your topic of conversation is making Maggie uncomfortable,” Holly said.
Ivy blinked in surprise. “You’re not a practitioner?” she asked me.
Not anymore. “No,” I said, out loud.
“Really?” Ivy tipped her head to one side, studying me. “Sorry if I offended you.”
I nodded, and the conversations resumed around us. I took a sip of the cider and made an effort to unclench.
Holly’s hand lighted on my arm. “Are you alright?” she asked me quietly.
As I focused on Holly, I saw for the first time a scar that ran through her left eyebrow. It held my attention for a moment, until I noticed that her eye color had shifted to an uncanny shade of aqua-blue. Brighter than they’d been even a few moments ago. I swallowed nervously. “Yes, I’m fine,” I said, even though it was a lie.
Holly gave my shoulder the gentlest of squeezes. “No one here expects you to be anything other than what you are, Maggie. It might help to remember that.”
Before I could reply, I caught Faye Bishop staring at me. The woman had her brows raised and was wearing a slight sneer. Without a word it let me know she found me beneath her. Determined to not let her know how uncomfortable I was, I smiled at the old woman, and deliberately re-started the conversation with Shannon about the gender reveal party that she wanted.
Eventually the food was consumed and it was time for the bride to open her bridal shower gifts. I was relieved when everyone stopped chatting and focused instead on the presents. As matron of honor Lexie sat beside the bride, dutifully recording each gift and the giver.
Only after the gifts had been opened and the cake sliced and passed around was it polite for Willow and I to leave. Willow had a great time sitting with the other girls. Even though they were older, each of them had been very kind to her. Which made it hard to get Willow to want to go.
As smoothly as possible we took our leave, and I didn’t fully exhale again until I was out of the house and back in my car.
CHAPTER FIVE
It wasn’t until later that evening that I managed to snag a moment to let myself relax. I’d been wound up since the bridal shower, and I’d even snapped at Willow a few times over supper. But now it was finally quiet, and the cottage was still and silent.
Willow was sound asleep, and shortly before midnight I stepped out on the tiny back porch of the cottage, took a seat at the wrought iron café table and chairs, and allowed myself a single cigarette. Even though I smoked rarely these days, I still saved a few for emergency situations.
While the waxing moon cast pretty shadows over the grass and a few patches of the snow left in the yard, I let my mind go back over the afternoon. On the plus side, I’d secured another event—the Jacobs’ baby gender reveal party. On the negative side however, the Bishop half of my family tree were all obviously practitioners.
I shook my head over the snippets of conversations I’d picked up on at the bridal shower. All that talk of magick was an uncomfortable blast from my past, reminding me too much of when my mother would invite her so-called magickal study group over to the house. Of course, my mother’s excursions into spell casting had typically been met with disasters. As in anything that could have gone wrong…typically did.
I remembered all too clearly being a smug girl of sixteen and trying out spells for myself, confident that I could do better than my mother…and they’d all worked, while my mother’s magick had flopped. When she caught me casting a healing spell on our old cat she’d been furious—not because I’d been working magick—but because it was white magick, positive magick. The healing spell I’d done had worked, while her own spells never did.
That old scruffy tomcat had managed another six months living out his last days in comfort, and my mother had been infuriated.
Then came her group of wanna-be-witchy-friends, and they’d all decided that whatever white magick I’d been working had somehow sabotaged my mother’s darker spellwork. After their interrogation and accusations, I’d left magick alone. Turning my back on anything to do with their version of magick, I abandoned my practice. I’d gone cold turkey on witchcraft and had stayed away from any spell-casting from that point on.
Stubbing the cigarette out, I picked it up and carried it to the bottom of my garden, to drop it in the outdoor garbage can. Making me wish I could dispose of those unhappy memories much in the same way.
I’m not sure whether it was movement or a sound that had me looking up quickly. The back of my neck prickled, and all I knew for sure
