I felt the lightest of touches on my arm. “Relax, Maggie.” Julian’s voice was the barest whisper of sound as everyone talked around us. “They aren’t judging you.”
I nodded in silent acknowledgement of his words.
I watched as Willow picked up her roll and took a huge, enthusiastic bite. “Be careful honey,” I warned her. I’d barely finished my words when she dropped it. The bread bounced off her plate and disappeared under the table.
Willow lifted very large eyes to Thomas. “I’m sorry,” she said contritely.
“Butter fingers.” Thomas smiled at the girl.
Willow nodded solemnly. “It was slippery.” She started to lick the melted butter off her fingers, when she figured it out. “Butter fingers!” She let loose a belly laugh and everyone began to chuckle in response.
“Now that’s a sound I’ve missed,” Thomas said with a nod to Willow. “It’s good to hear a child’s laughter in this house again.” He lifted his wine glass. “To family,” he said.
I tapped my glass to Julian’s and then over to Thomas. “To family,” I said.
***
After dinner, Willow and I walked back to the cottage. The cold was bracing but pleasant. I stopped on the back porch to unlock the door, and Willow suddenly bent down.
“Mama, look what I found!”
I pushed the door open. “What’d you find, honey?”
Willow held up a tattered, dirty and broken fashion doll to show me.
“Baby, put that down. It’s dirty.” I said, automatically.
She ignored me and was now holding the doll at eye level and studying it.
“Willow.” I said her name again.
My daughter didn’t answer. She stood, frozen in place staring vacantly at the doll.
“Willow!” I said, sharply.
She started, blinked and tipped her face up to mine. “Yes, Mama?”
I took the old doll away from her. “Give me that,” I said, holding it by the fingertips. I ushered her inside and dropped the old doll in the kitchen trashcan, immediately. While Willow tugged her mittens off and unzipped her coat, I washed my hands in the sink.
“You threw it away?” she asked sadly.
“Yes honey, it was all broken and dirty,” I said.
“But it was for me!” she said crossly.
“Baby, no it wasn’t.” I dried my hands. “It was an old doll someone left behind.”
I bundled Willow off to bed, and once she was down for the night I took advantage of the logs that had been laid in the fireplace. I lit them and sat on the couch watching the flames for a while, thinking over my first day in William’s Ford.
Autumn and Duncan appeared to be happily in love, and the Drakes had been nothing but welcoming and generous to Willow and me. It gave me hope that my daughter and I could make good lives for ourselves here. Free from the shadows of the past.
A prickling at the base of my neck had me glancing warily over my shoulder. I’d heard nothing, yet I got up and went to double check the locks on the back and front doors. I felt exposed almost. Pulling the shade down over the kitchen window, I wondered what had made me feel so tense, and my gaze landed on the metal kitchen can.
“You’re being paranoid, Maggie,” I muttered to myself. But I crept cautiously to the garbage can, slowly peering over the edge anyway.
The face of the doll was battered in and the dark hair was tied in intricate knots. Old strips of fabric were tied around it in a sort of crude dress. I couldn’t say why that old doll had my feathers ruffled. Yet it did. All I knew was that I wanted that thing out of my house, or better yet, destroyed.
Going with my gut, I snatched a paper towel, used it to fish the doll out of the garbage, and marched directly to the fireplace. The fire wasn’t very big, but I tugged the pretty glass doors open and tossed the doll in the flames.
The flames grew large and engulfed it immediately. Before my eyes, the ratty fashion doll began to burn impossibly fast. With a loud pop that sent sparks shooting out onto the brick hearth, the doll started to melt. The plastic made the oddest sound when it burned—a sort of high-pitched squealing noise.
The smell from the burning plastic was vile, and I looked around hoping for something to toss on the fire to cover the stench. My eyes landed on a basket of lavender potpourri resting on the end table.
“Lavender is excellent for cleansings,” I said, thoughtfully. Even though I’d cut myself off from magick many years ago…old habits still died hard. Picking up the basket, I chucked the fragrant contents onto the fire.
To reinforce the action, I added a spontaneous protection charm. “Lavender burn and take away; any evil sent to us this day.”
The lavender did the trick and the foul odor from the plastic was suddenly gone. The potpourri’s smoke rolled up the chimney, the flames went down to a low simmer, and the tension left my shoulders as suddenly as it had arrived. I was probably overreacting, but I didn’t want to take any chances. No one in William’s Ford knew about my past.
I’d been very careful. I’d made sure that nobody had any reason to dig into Magnolia Sutton’s troubled teenage years. All anyone saw of me these days was Maggie Parrish, mother, professional event coordinator, and mundane.
I intended to keep it that way.
Satisfied that I’d taken care of it, I shut the doors on the fireplace and headed to bed.
CHAPTER TWO
The visit to the preschool did more to soothe my nerves than Willow’s. She dragged her feet going into the building and spoke quietly to her teacher. She took in everything with wide eyes and had very little to say—which was a sign of nerves for my girl.
As we drove across town for the meetings with both the baker and the florist for Autumn and Duncan’s wedding, I tried to broach the subject of her new preschool. “Your teacher, Miss Tamira seemed very nice.”
Willow shrugged.
“What did
