Nina toasted me with her glass of wine. “Exactly. One who heals with spells and charms. Like your mother’s family does on both sides.”
“Bullshit! My mother certainly never healed anyone. That would take—”
Nina’s laughter had me stopping mid sentence. She set the wine down and proceeded to laugh until she cried.
“It’s not funny. Why on earth are you laughing?” I asked while the children stared at Nina.
“I’ve never heard someone say ‘bullshit’ with a Southern accent before. It’s hysterical!” She wiped her eyes.
“I’m not the only one with an accent, sugar.” I pointed out.
That only made Nina laugh harder.
“What’s so funny?” Willow wanted to know.
“Grown-up stuff, amada,” Nina replied.
“What’s amada mean?” Willow wanted to know.
“Sweetheart,” Nina answered.
“Oh. Okay.” Willow left to go race across the yard.
“Are you telling me that you don’t believe in magick?” Nina asked, once Willow was gone.
I made sure that when I spoke, my voice would be calm. “Oh, I believe. I’ve seen enough of magick to last me a lifetime.”
“How do you mean?” Nina asked.
“My mother. She was into the occult.” I struggled to maintain my composure. “She liked to think she had power, but she had no real talent for spells—which was probably a blessing. And please, don’t get me started on how the other children in town treat me. I was always ‘Crazy Patty’s kid’.”
“I’m sorry,” Nina said, contritely. “What about your father?”
“He left my mother when I was a toddler. Mama always said it was because he was narrow-minded and refused to accept her spirituality.” I blew out a breath. “More likely he couldn’t handle the stench of the nag-champa incense. Not to mention my mother trooping off every weekend to go to some Pagan festival or coven meeting.”
“So she was a free-spirit?” Nina asked.
“That’s a generous assessment.” I took a sip of wine before continuing. “She’d been horribly spoiled by her adoptive parents. Mama came from money, was beautiful, and indulged for most of her life. People always gave into her. She manipulated everyone around her—like a true narcissist.”
“That’s horrible.” Nina shook her head sadly.
“When I grew older, she started to become jealous. Envious of my looks, and of the attention it caused from boys and men.”
“Good god,” Nina swore.
“The thing is, she was convinced she had these potent magickal powers, but fortunately she didn’t.” I took a careful breath. “I grew up learning magick, but it was the kind that my mother believed in—and it was mostly self-aggrandizing, dark and chaotic.”
“Not all practitioners are like that,” Nina said.
“The folks my mama associated with were cut from the same cloth. So convinced of their own importance. They were always fixin’ to get even with someone, or hexin’ a different coven or group because of some spat. That’s the sort of magick I was taught. Manipulative and cruel.”
“Were you able to have any sort of regular life?” Nina asked. “What about your friends?”
“I didn’t have any real friends. I didn’t dare have the kids from school over to the house, and my high school years were hell. But I studied, and received a partial scholarship. It was a chance to get out and I went after it hard. When I went away to college, I finally found some freedom.” I took another sip of wine for fortification. “That’s how I met Willow’s father. He was so blessedly normal. And I thought he loved me.”
“You were young,” Nina said.
“Please,” I rolled my eyes. “I was practically the same age you are now.”
“Did your mother approve of him?”
“God, I never introduced her to him, it was too embarrassing. We ran off to Las Vegas and got married right after graduation from LSU. Stupidest thing I ever did.”
“What was he like?”
“When I met Beau Parrish, he was a handsome college football star, with dreams of playing in the pros. He never made it though, and it turned him bitter. He’d traded on his celebrity status after college for a year or so…Alumni or football fans were always happy to give him a pseudo job. But when the pros didn’t pan out, he started drinking, and pretty soon there wasn’t any money coming in. I was pregnant with Willow, with a ton of student debt, and determined to somehow give my child a better life than I’d had. A good life. A normal life, with a happy, pretty home, school friends, and playdates…so I applied for a job as an assistant to a big event coordinator in Shreveport.”
“Obviously that worked out well for you,” Nina said.
“I paid my dues and learned the ropes from Annie Cormier. She’s a hell of a woman. Tough as nails.” I smiled, remembering. “Pregnant or not, I’ve never worked as hard in my life as I did for her. I had a knack for weddings, and a way with even the most difficult of brides. She noticed and took me under her wing. A year after Willow was born, she even helped me hire a divorce lawyer and held my hand during the divorce proceedings.”
“What about your own mother?” Nina asked. “Where was she?”
“Who knows?’ I shrugged. “I hadn’t seen or heard from her in years. Once the divorce was final, I continued to work my way up from assistant to event coordinator in my own right. About seven months ago, I got a call from a lawyer, informing me that my mother had passed away. I hadn’t even known she was ill.”
“What did you do?” Nina wanted to know.
“I went back home and discovered that all my mother had left was an old life insurance policy, a trashed home, a mountain of unpaid bills, and the house her adoptive parents had given her—which had somehow been left to me.”
“What a mess,” Nina said.
“The insurance policy barely covered the funeral costs, and a few weeks later when Beau found out I’d inherited the house, he decided to sue me for custody of Willow—unless I handed over half of what the house was worth. He started some ugly gossip about my
