walked out and left Beth to clean up the mess.” Lauren’s hands clenched her mangled pint. “That’s twice we’ve treated her badly.”
“You were a two-month-old witch.” The picture was starting to form, and Nell didn’t like it one bit. “And Jamie was going quietly nuts in Chicago.” He didn’t belong outside of Witch Central any more than she did. “So my clumsy brother marched in there, turned Beth’s life upside down, impressed them all with fancy magic, and then we’ve ignored her for almost two years.”
Lauren nodded. “Yup. That about covers it. Until we kidnapped her.”
Yikes. They had some serious atoning to do. And Nell had no idea where to start.
“She’ll be coming to us, then.” Moira bounced Adam gently as he stirred.
Sophie reached for her son. “Here, I’ll feed him and you can explain how you know such things.”
Moira transferred the sleeping baby with skill decades in the making. “This is a time of seeking, of journeys underway. A time of moving toward the light. She’ll come.”
Lauren nodded. “Liri thinks she will.”
Well, that beat Irish mysticism as a reliable source. Nell contemplated what she knew of their strange witch. Fire witches hated the cold and the dark—and winter solstice in Chicago probably had plenty of both.
“She’ll be wanting training if she comes.” Moira segued easily into an Irish lullaby as Adam fussed again.
Something practical she could do. Finally. “Jamie’s busy with Kenna right now. If she comes, I can train her.”
“I’d like to help.” Lauren looked surprisingly determined.
Nell frowned. She had no objections to assistance, but it was an odd request. “You’re not a fire witch.”
“I know.” Lauren looked at her hands. “But she feels like mine.”
Nell nodded in assent—she knew the weight of witchy guilt all too well.
The sound of Devin’s motorcycle outside brightened the room considerably. Linguine to the rescue. Moira popped off the couch, eyes twinkling. “You sit still, my dears. I’ll fetch some plates and a wee handful of forks.”
Lauren eyed Nell, one last thing on her mind. “Someone needs to fill Jamie in.”
Sigh. “Someone” had been her name far too often lately. “I’ll do it.”
Soon. She was darned well eating some noodles first.
-o0o-
Moira stepped out into the bright noonday sun and stopped a moment to enjoy the delightfully blue expanse of ocean. Irish witches knew how to find magic in stormy gray waters too, but it was a lovely change of pace from the wintery waters of Fisher’s Cove.
Her belly hummed happily along with her eyes, full of the best noodles in the world.
A moment of contentment—not the norm at this time of year. The coming of the solstice always shook things up a bit.
She looked around the cottage’s gardens. Even in winter, they were coming along nicely—the gift of many hands and a long growing season. Lauren sat on a driftwood bench, looking out over the water.
Moira suspected it wasn’t the sea she saw.
She picked her way through the honeysuckle and a nice patch of winter crocus. “Care for some company?”
Lauren looked up, eyes welcoming. “Sure. I just needed a little escape from the melee in there.”
Or the thoughts in her own head, more likely. Moira took a seat, well familiar with the difficult burden of feeling inadequate. “You did very well with Beth, you know.”
“This time, maybe.” The smile was wan. “It hurts to know how callous we were back in Chicago.”
It was this that had called the healer outside. That and a quick head nod from Devin. “And what is it you think you could have done differently?”
The answer was a long time coming. “I’m not sure. I don’t know how welcome we’d have been even if we’d stayed.”
Moira had some experience with witches rather set in their ways. “Aye. It was a
“You were a two-month-old witch.” The picture was starting to form, and Nell didn’t like it one bit. “And Jamie was going quietly nuts in Chicago.” He didn’t belong outside of Witch Central any more than she did. “So my clumsy brother marched in there, turned Beth’s life upside down, impressed them all with fancy magic, and then we’ve ignored her for almost two years.”
Lauren nodded. “Yup. That about covers it. Until we kidnapped her.”
Yikes. They had some serious atoning to do. And Nell had no idea where to start.
“She’ll be coming to us, then.” Moira bounced Adam gently as he stirred.
Sophie reached for her son. “Here, I’ll feed him and you can explain how you know such things.”
Moira transferred the sleeping baby with skill decades in the making. “This is a time of seeking, of journeys underway. A time of moving toward the light. She’ll come.”
Lauren nodded. “Liri thinks she will.”
Well, that beat Irish mysticism as a reliable source. Nell contemplated what she knew of their strange witch. Fire witches hated the cold and the dark—and winter solstice in Chicago probably had plenty of both.
“She’ll be wanting training if she comes.” Moira segued easily into an Irish lullaby as Adam fussed again.
Something practical she could do. Finally. “Jamie’s busy with Kenna right now. If she comes, I can train her.”
“I’d like to help.” Lauren looked surprisingly determined.
Nell frowned. She had no objections to assistance, but it was an odd request. “You’re not a fire witch.”
“I know.” Lauren looked at her hands. “But she feels like mine.”
Nell nodded in assent—she knew the weight of witchy guilt all too well.
The sound of Devin’s motorcycle outside brightened the room considerably. Linguine to the rescue. Moira popped off the couch, eyes twinkling. “You sit still, my dears. I’ll fetch some plates and a wee handful of forks.”
Lauren eyed Nell, one last thing on her mind. “Someone needs to fill Jamie in.”
Sigh. “Someone” had been her name far too often lately. “I’ll do it.”
Soon. She was darned well eating some noodles first.
-o0o-
Moira stepped out into the bright noonday sun and stopped a moment to enjoy the delightfully blue expanse of ocean. Irish witches knew how to find magic in stormy gray waters too, but it was a lovely change of pace from the wintery waters of Fisher’s Cove.
Her belly hummed happily along with her eyes, full of the best noodles in the world.
A moment of contentment—not the norm at this time of year. The coming of the solstice always shook things up a bit.
She looked around the cottage’s gardens. Even in winter, they were coming along nicely—the gift of many hands and a long growing season. Lauren sat on a driftwood bench, looking out over the water.
Moira suspected it wasn’t the sea she saw.
She picked her way through the honeysuckle and a nice patch of winter crocus. “Care for some company?”
Lauren looked up, eyes welcoming. “Sure. I just needed a little escape from the melee in there.”
Or the thoughts in her own head, more likely. Moira took a seat, well familiar with the difficult burden of feeling inadequate. “You did very well with Beth, you know.”
“This time, maybe.” The smile was wan. “It hurts to know how callous we were back in Chicago.”
It was this that had called the healer outside. That and a quick head nod from Devin. “And what is it you think you could have done differently?”
The answer was a long time coming. “I’m not sure. I don’t know how welcome we’d have been even if we’d stayed.”
Moira had some experience with witches rather set in their ways. “Aye. It was a
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