by Cindy Stark
Hazel and everyone else in the room knew Belinda lied about Mr. Fletcher’s mental capacity. For several years now, he had declined, and the town all watched out for him. Except, Belinda, it seemed.
Cora shook her head in disappointment, and then she faced Quentin. “I’m very sorry that someone in my employ took advantage of your grandfather while he was here. I can promise you that will never happen again.”
Quentin glared at Belinda. “What about the money that she’s already taken? I want it back.”
Cora lifted a sharp brow and focused on Belinda, her expectations clear.
Belinda twisted her features into an angry frown. “You can’t prove that he gave me every drop of money he took out of the bank. And what he did give me was a gesture of his appreciation for me taking care of him, like you never do.”
His anger leaned toward an explosion. “I take care of him every day.”
“If you’re taking such great care of him, then how come he can go to the bank and withdraw however much money he wants, and then wander around town until he finds his way to Cora’s? Huh? When he’s in here, I make him laugh and smile, and talk to him like he says you never do. If you are caring for him like you should, he wouldn’t have had that opportunity.”
Quentin stiffened. “I want that money back.”
Belinda placed her hand on her hip and jutted it out. “Well, I don’t have it. I used it for rent and groceries.” She gave him a flippant smile and then turned her back and walked into the kitchen.
He shifted his anger to Cora “She’s a liar,” he growled. “If you’re not going to do something about her, I will.”
Cora placed a calming hand on his arm. “Now, Quentin, don’t be acting all crazy. Give me some time, and I’ll do what I can to sort this out and get Virgil’s money back. Maybe Belinda can work some extra shifts, and I will put that money toward it.”
Quentin seemed only slightly appeased. “You’d better.”
With that, he turned and strode toward his grandpa’s table. “Get up. We’re going home.”
Mr. Fletcher glanced about the room, looking confused. “Okay.” He slowly got to his feet. When he was ready, Quentin marched from the café, leaving his grandpa to shuffle after him.
Hazel turned her gaze to Cora. “Oh, wow. That was…unexpected.”
“Yeah.” Cora released a long sigh.
“Perhaps we should cancel this morning’s walk?” Though Hazel had really been looking forward to it.
“Maybe. Let me check on Belinda.”
Cora was gone for all of five minutes. When she returned, she glanced at the clock hanging over the door. “Belinda says she’ll be fine, though I can tell she’s upset. Whether it’s from what happened with Charlie or Quentin, I have no clue, but she’s insisting that we go. Julie will be here in forty-five minutes, and I doubt Quentin will be back. I guess we should go as planned.”
“If you’re sure?”
Cora gave her an exasperated look. “I’m sure that I need to get out in the fresh air before I lose my mind, too. Then I can deal with the situation later. Belinda doesn’t want to talk about it, but she’s going to have to.”
Hazel shrugged and led the way outside.
Four
Hazel and Cora left the café and walked several minutes in silence with warm April sunshine raining down on them. By degrees, Hazel sensed Cora’s anxiety level falling, and she was relieved. Stress was never a good thing.
In Hazel’s opinion, Belinda was a huge source of it. “I hate to say it, but maybe you should fire her. You know it’s only a matter of time before everyone in town hears about what happened. You don’t want your business to suffer because of her.”
Cora cast a frustrated glance at her. “I can’t do that, Hazel. Besides, if I fire her, you know Belinda will never repay him. If she stays working for me, then I think I can convince her to do the right thing.”
If the darkness in Belinda’s aura was any kind of clue, she doubted that would happen. “If you say so.”
Cora sighed. “Let’s not talk about her right now. I want to enjoy the morning.”
Hazel did as well.
They followed their regular path down the cobblestone sidewalk and turned before they reached the police station. Hazel wasn’t sure if Cora knew she’d chosen a route that wouldn’t pass by Peter’s place of work on purpose, but that couldn’t be helped.
Hazel had found herself growing more drawn to the attractive police chief with all those amazing muscles, his dark hair and mesmerizing green eyes. But seeing him sent her pulse racing and jumbled her thoughts, and she didn’t want that to interrupt the peacefulness of their morning walks.
This was her time to focus on herself and reconnect with nature.
They walked until they reached the glorious red-brick church that had sat on the corner of Camden and Oakwood for the past two hundred years. The pitched black roof and accompanying spire rose high into the sky, and she adored its arched decorative designs and windows. It seemed everything built during current times lacked the character of these old buildings, and she found that sad.
Through her research, she’d discovered the structure had been built on the same spot as the original Stonebridge church that had been in existence during her grandmother’s time. That old wooden church, the place where the pious people had once condemned Clarabelle, had burned to the ground two years to the day after they’d drowned her grandmother and her friends in Redemption Pond.
She couldn’t help but wonder if there was a correlation.
Cora filled her lungs with fresh air and expelled it as though cleansing the taste of their uncomfortable conversation from her mouth. “You’d be surprised how many people request your tea, Hazel. Happy Day is now almost as popular as Majestic Mint.”
Pleasure wrapped around her heart. “Happy Day has become my new favorite, too. When I first thought about combining oranges, hibiscus and lemongrass, I knew it would taste good, but I’m surprised how much I like it.”
“You’re a master of your trade.”
A modest laugh escaped Hazel. “I don’t know if I would go that far.” But she had learned a lot from her mother and her aunts about brews and potions, and tea had become her passion.
“Don’t try to argue that with me and the community. We all love what you do.”
Hazel nodded in satisfaction. As much as the anti-witch town should dislike her, she’d begun to feel like she belonged to the community. As long as she kept her heritage a secret. “That makes me really happy.”
Cora pumped her elbows for a greater workout. “You give the customers what they want. Makes us all happy.”
Hazel had tried to focus on the beautiful day and all that the Blessed Mother offered them, but she couldn’t escape the annoying reminder of her evening before and the spells she’d read. Cora believed Hazel came from a long line of good witches, and Hazel didn’t want to tell her otherwise.
At least not yet. Their friendship had deepened over the past several weeks, and Hazel was grateful that she had a confidante in town, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to share her family’s sordid past and chance Cora thinking less of her.
Still, she yearned to know more about her grandmother and the things that had taken place all those years ago. She battled between speaking what was on her mind or keeping it to herself. In the end, her heart won, like it usually did, but maybe shouldn’t have. “Can I pick your brain?”
Cora graced her with a friendly smile “Sure.”
“How much do you know about what happened to the witches at Redemption Pond?”
Cora widened her eyes. “Oh. That.”
She’d opened the can of worms now, so she might as well push forward. “I've been researching, reading what I can find in books, but everything I’ve found has been biased toward the townsfolk.”
“Books from the library?” Cora asked cautiously.
Hazel nodded, understanding the warning in her voice. It hadn’t taken Hazel long to
realize the town’s librarian held a special hatred toward witches. “I’ve been careful not to seem too eager in front of Timothy. He mentioned the special books that I can only review in his presence, and I’ve been holding back asking to see them.”
“Smart thinking. Wait a while first. I’ve heard there’s a diary of one of the witches who was sentenced to die that day.”
Something in her voice caught Hazel’s attention. “Sentenced to die? You make it sound like they didn’t actually go through with it.”
The smile wrinkles in her cheeks deepened. “Oh. Of course. You wouldn’t know.”
Hazel drew her brows together in confusion. “I wouldn’t know what?”
Cora pulled her to a stop and met her gaze. “Those witches didn’t die that day.”
Her words sent Hazel’s thoughts into a chaotic frenzy. “What do you mean they didn’t die?” Her grandmother had lived? “I thought the townsfolk sentenced them to death, rowed them out into the middle of Redemption Pond, and cast them overboard with their hands tied behind their backs and stones in their pockets.”
A gentle breeze tugged a strand of hair across Cora’s face, and she pushed it out of the way. “That’s all very true. Once the witches were all in the water, the fine citizens of Stonebridge returned to their homes. The next day though, the witches and all the water in Redemption Pond were gone. Vanished. Evaporated. A mystery they couldn’t explain.”
Her stomach twisted into an anxious knot. Clarabelle’s spell had worked? “That’s incredible.” And a little frightening. She’d known her ancestor had been powerful, but…
She tried to imagine the amount of energy a feat like that would take. Unfathomable. Hazel couldn’t even manage a simple glamour or money spell.
“The righteous folks told themselves the devil had come to claim them, and all the water evaporated because of the fires of hell.” She snorted.
“If they didn’t die, what happened to them?”
Cora shrugged. “There are many guesses, but no one knows for sure. Some think they escaped and went in search of their families who’d fled. Others said they lived in the woods next to Clarabelle’s house for a time, planning their revenge before they disappeared.”
“Hence, the yearly Witch’s Wrath storm we endured not long ago?”
“Could be. Most witches today don’t believe anyone could create a spell that powerful. But none of us really know.”
Except Hazel did. She’d read the powerful spell that had created the mother of all storms, and she yearned to know more. “I’d really like to see Redemption Pond. How far is it?”
“It’s about a mile off the main road as you head out of town from the north. It’s not a huge body of water, but still decent-sized. The non-superstitious folks like to paddle around it in canoes and rowboats. It’s a gorgeous place. Hard to believe something so tragic happened there.”
Hazel chuckled. Stonebridge was truly a conundrum. “Is there anywhere in town that’s not gorgeous?”
“True.” Cora nodded her head in agreement. “It makes me laugh to know some in town still refuse to go anywhere near it because they think the devil might get them, too. Others say it’s haunted with the witches’ spirits.”
Her pulse increased. “Is it?”
“Not that I’ve ever seen, but I try to avoid places that have anything to do with the witches from the past. I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention.”
“That’s always a worry for me, too.” She sighed as she searched for a way to make a visit to the pond work.
A slow grin spread across Cora’s face and made her nervous. “I have an idea that would keep you safe.”
Hazel knew exactly what she’d say. “Peter.”
“Yes. What better cover than that broad-shouldered, handsome police chief you’ve been seeing? You wouldn’t be the first couple to sneak out to Redemption Pond for a lover’s tryst.”
Heat crept into Hazel’s cheeks. “We’re not lovers.” Hazel would never be able to let things progress that far.
“Yet,” Cora returned.
In a perfect world where people didn’t carry prejudices, she dreamed of falling in love with Peter. But that wasn’t her world, and he could never truly love someone like her. “We’ve been on three dates, and those weren’t exactly official,” Hazel countered.
Cora arched an intrigued brow. “Some people do it on the first date.”
Hazel snorted and shook her head. “We are not having this conversation.”
She chuckled. “Okay, we’ll save it for another day. But, I’m still going to push for a date at the pond with your handsome man. I’ll even pack the picnic. I happen to know Chief Parrish loves my roast beef sandwiches.”
It did sound like fun and would give her the perfect excuse for being there.
“I’ll pack extra pickles for you,” Cora teased.
The temptation of Cora’s homemade dill pickles decided it for her. “Deal. I’ll call him when I’m back at my shop.”
The moment she spoke her agreement, her stomach dropped. Even though she and Peter had been on several dates, and she’d been around him plenty during his investigations, the thought of asking him out terrified her.
Still if she wanted to learn more, she would have to be braver.
She’d dared to move to a town that hated her kind. She could certainly ask a man to join her for lunch.
Five
Hazel paced her living room, her nerves a bunch of tangled vines. She’d been ready for her picnic date with Peter an hour ago, and now had nothing to do except try to plan a day she couldn’t control and then worry.
Mr. Kitty released a loud sigh from where he was perched on the back of the couch. She shot him an irritated look. “If you were the one about to go on a date with someone who despised the magic in your blood, you’d be nervous, too.”
Her cat only stared, leaving her to feel like she needed to defend her choices
“Yes, I should probably stop seeing Peter, but Clarabelle didn’t seem to have a problem with him.” Or at least that was the impression she’d gotten from her grandmother’s ghost.
Mr. Kitty stood and stretched before he jumped off the couch and left the room. She had the distinct impression that he wasn’t the type of feline who would stick around while she crashed and burned. Cora had said he might help her and protect her, but she had to wonder. As far as she could tell, he barely tolerated her. She’d been lucky he hadn’t outed her to Peter that day at Clarabelle’s house.
Maybe, if she studied the spell book more, that would appease the darned cat. But the idea that her grandmother’s evaporation spell had worked made her more nervous than before.
The knock on her front door startled her, drawing her from her worried thoughts. Peter. Just his name rolling through her mind sent her heart racing faster.
At the door, she paused to draw in a deep, calming breath and released it before she turned the knob.
For all the good it did her.
If she’d thought the town’s police chief looked incredibly attractive in his uniform, the sight of him in a light gray Henley, faded jeans, and hiking boots left her head spinning. They’d been out together before for things like root beer floats or an impromptu meeting at the sacred Grove next to Clarabelle’s house, but this was their very first official date.
The smile that crossed Peter’s lips devastated her. “Hey,” he said.
A burst of warm happiness blossomed on her lips, and she stepped back to let him enter. “Hey,” she said in return. “This might be the first time I’ve seen you out of uniform.”
He drew his brows together in thought. “Really?”
She nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”
“And?” he prompted.
“And…you look nice.” Better than nice, but she couldn’t tell him that.
He grinned. “Well, you look perfect.”
She wasn’t sure anyone had ever used the word “perfect” when describing her, and his compliment tugged hard on her
heartstrings. “Stop, or you’ll make me blush.”
“That’s the idea.”
Not knowing how to respond, she smiled and shook her head. “Let me grab our lunch from the fridge, and I’ll be ready.”
Though she hadn’t invited him to, he followed her into the kitchen. “I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s definitely you.”
She pulled the boxed lunches from the fridge, slid them into her backpack and then turned toward him. “How do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He glanced about the room. “It’s fresh and charming with a hint of mystery.”
She chuckled. “Mystery? You think I’m mysterious?”
“In a good way.” He took the backpack from her hands and then held out his elbow for her.
She slipped her fingers around his arm, absorbing his electrifying touch. Physically and emotionally, she sensed his strength, and she liked it. That right there could lead her down a long road of trouble. She would need to be careful.
Together, they walked to her front door. She spotted Mr. Kitty in his favorite spot beneath the couch, and quickly closed the door behind them. He had a creepy way of stalking her, and she mentally challenged him to keep up with her this time. It was one thing for him to follow her on her bicycle to Clarabelle’s house which really wasn’t that far away. But Redemption Pond was much farther than that, and she and Peter would be going by—
“Is that your truck?”
A shiny black Dodge was parked along the curb outside her house. If trucks could be sexy then this one would be the sexiest.
Peter chuckled. “What? Did you think I only drove the police cruiser? I do have a life outside of my job.”
Her cheeks heated in embarrassment. “Of course, you do.” Seeing him as a police chief made it easy to think of him as invincible, including any damage she might do to his heart. But as a man, being with him seemed so much more…intimate.
The trip to Redemption Pond took them no more than ten minutes. The area was crowded with trees, so many maples, oaks and pines, that it made it impossible to see the pond from the road. The bright and sunny Sunday afternoon had lured a fair number of brave people to the pond, enough that the small dirt parking lot was filled with cars.
