Shadows in Ravenwood (Daughters of the Circle)

by Lenore Wolfe

FOUR

  TARA

  Dawn climbed the sky, and Tara hadn’t slept a wink. She lay there in her large, platform bed that occupied an overly large bedroom, staring at a little Christmas tree that still sat on her dresser, months after she should have put it away, trying several things to get herself to settle down, quiet her mind. Too much going on in there, it seemed. Like, realizing she needed to call it quits and come to terms with the fact she needed to go home.

  The idea of it made her feel like a fraud—a failure.

  Who lets themselves be driven back to their hometown with their tail between their legs? She’d never live this down. And rightly so. After all, she’d bragged and preened, telling everyone she’d been the one to get away.

  Oh well. It wasn’t all that bad—was it? Besides, she’d just heard they’d found Morgan. That changed everything, didn’t it?

  Hell, yes. That changed everything.

  Tara groaned, desperately trying to pull herself back away from that line of thought—but now that she’d gone there—her mind wasn’t having it. Morgan—returning home—put them all squarely back in danger. Surely, they all knew it. This had to be fate.

  Tara sighed. But maybe it was—time? Maybe the Goddess willed her to return now, too? Perhaps they were being gathered, like the particles of sand, back together—to finish what they’d started.

  What they’d started?

  They’d only been children…. They hadn’t begun to know what they were doing.

  She reached for her bedcovers. Her hand shook, and Tara stared at it. She’d been trying her best not to think about this—from the first moment she’d begun to entertain the notion of returning home.

  Getting up, she made her way to the bathroom, staring at her pale form in the mirror. They shouldn’t be gathering back together—not there. She realized that. Claire must be aware of that, too. What were they doing—letting this happen? Maybe they couldn’t stop destiny. Maybe the fates would have their way—no matter what else any of them chose to decide. She stared at herself in the mirror.

  Claire would have already headed back to Ravenwood. Tara closed her eyes against the weight that settled in her chest. Wasn’t that why she’d left to begin with? An only child, and then to be raised by her grandmother, her friends were the only real family she’d ever known. She couldn’t bear Red Bluff when they were all gone. Nothing seemed right after that. Nothing seemed like it would ever be the same again.

  Yet, here they all were, just like that. Suddenly, the sisters—both returned. And by some mysterious force set in play—now Tara, herself, was returning home too…. Coincidence? She thought not. Well, if it were time to go back to something—what better reason to go back to her birthplace then for her sister-friends. Let the Sister-Fates have their way. They’d face whatever awaited them—together.

  The morning still early, she finally got up and packed her bags, excited now as hope slowly took the place of doubt—taking a few minutes to call and say goodbye to her friends, then heading to the airport.

  Maybe she’d catch up on some sleep on the plane.

  Hah! All she could think about was the last night she’d seen Morgan—before she’d disappeared.

  She’d worked hard to hide those memories away, far back into the deepest recess of her mind. Now, she didn’t know if it was wise to let them come roaring back to the surface. After all, losing the only family she’d known was—shattering. Still, she couldn’t help the bubbling excitement that burned to come to the surface—realizing she might see her sister-friends again.

  Tara stopped, staring out the cab window. The junk she’d buried wanted to resurrect itself too, now. She spent too much time trying to push it all away, yet those last seconds—the moment she’d grasped that Morgan had disappeared….

  That day changed all their lives. That day—and that damn shadow. They’d just been children—and the terror of those moments….

  Tara pulled herself back to the present, feeling sick to her stomach, concentrating on the store shops that slipped by. When she got to the airport, she quickly got in line at the ticket counter—lugging her bag behind her—trying to keep her shoulder bag from slipping down her arm. She’d have latched it to her suitcase, but it seemed pointless when she could see the ticket counter from the curb. Now, she regretted not taking a moment to do so.

  She tried not to look annoyed as the line crawled, and the woman in front of her, with her perfectly manicured candy red nails and well-placed scarf, nudged her own suitcases forward with a booted foot.

  The time had come. She was going home. And now that she was practically on her way—Tara couldn’t wait to get there.

  A spot at the ticket counter opened, and Tara watched as the lady with the flaming red nails prod her suitcase forward—slowly—one bump at a time—till she finally got to the counter. By that time, even the guy behind the ticket counter seemed irritated.

  A spot opened to her right, and Tara stepped up to a huffy older woman, dressed up so tight she looked like she’d shatter if she moved, but the ticket agent worked with deft efficiency, and within moments, Tara walked swiftly towards security check-in.

  Another line, and several unruly children later, Tara sat down in her seat, surrounded by a lot of people who were forced to sit too close, in the large, overly-stuffed, airport. Why did they try to cram so many people into one place?

  Forty-five minutes later, she seated herself in an equally cramped spot, with two overly-large, and smelly males—sitting on either side of her. Tara was beginning to think that someone up there had it in for her. She must have done something awful in one of her past lives to deserve this. The only reprieve was the short flight from Mediapolis to Denver—well compared to some.

  Tara laid her head back, and before she knew it, someone shook her awake. Confused, and groggy, she stared at the flight attendant. She’d only closed her eyes to think. How could she have drifted off, and so quickly—and then to have slipped into such a sound sleep?

  She didn’t even remember dreaming.

  Getting up, she seized her bag out of the overhead compartment, as she tried to shake the fog from her mind and get her fuzzy, chaotic thoughts in order.

  She followed the other passengers from the plane, debarking last. She kept with the group, numb with fatigue, as they made their way to baggage claim. She stood there like that, feeling more like a wooden statue, watching as the bags went around in circles on the conveyor belt before spotting her own.

  With tired, aching arms, she yanked her suitcase from the rest. Pulling the handle, she strapped her smaller shoulder bag on top and began dragging them to the door.

  Outside, she found the shuttle that would take her the hour and fifteen minutes to the little town of Red Bluff. The driver put her bags on the rack, but she grabbed the shoulder bag from him. She slid into one of the seats and told him which town she needed.

  She’d been excited to see who’d shown up at the Ravenwood Manor. Now she just felt too pooped to go there. She sighed, yawning, without any more energy to deal with any of this. Her body, heavy. She just wanted her bed like she’d been drugged.

  A silly thought. Tara shook her head. She was being paranoid, again. She didn’t trust anyone. She needed to stop thinking the worse all the time. Besides, she hadn’t ingested anything for hours. She’d just fallen asleep.

  The bus dropped her in Red Bluff, and she flagged down a taxi, sliding into the back seat as he placed her suitcase in the trunk.

  Excited now to see her Nanna, she spotted her stepping out onto the porch, as the yellow cab pulled up to the curb in front of the house where she’d grown up—and loved so much. But Tara only had eyes for her Nanna.

  Her Nanna, Grandma Evelyn, wrung her hands, her round face lit with joy. As soon as Tara made it up the stairs, she enveloped her in a tender hug that made her wonder why she’d stayed away for so long.

  The cab driver brought her suitcase up the walk, setting it on the porch. Tara paid him and gave him a nice
tip. He gave her a slight bow of gratitude and bid them good night. Tara grabbed the handle of her suitcase and put her free arm around her grandmother. They hugged, then parted and went into the house.

  Once inside, Tara could only stand there looking around as memories of her childhood flooded through her. Spices and the smell of warm bread greeted her, and her stomach growled, her prior exhaustion forgotten.

  She took her bag up to her room and took a few minutes to freshen up, enjoying the comfort of her old room, the familiar bathroom, and the smell of her nanna’s homemade soap, before joining her grandmother in the kitchen.

  They sat down across from each other on either side of the table, and Tara immediately dug into the beef roast and potatoes Nanna prepared, taking a nice thick slice of the bread and placing it on the napkin beside her plate.

  She asked Nanna about various people in town, between bites, as her grandmother filled her in, but they both avoided the topic of her young friend’s return until they ran out of things to say.

  They sat looking at each other, and Tara winced. It would seem they were both afraid to speak of the so-called whale in the bathtub. She took a deep breath. “So, have they said where they found Morgan?”

  Nanna nodded. “They said she’d been with her father until she was grown, then she left, and even he didn’t know where she went.”

  Surprised, Tara bit her lip. “Then, why didn’t she come home?”

  Nanna shook her head sadly, her face delicately framed with small wisps of silver curls that broke free from the bun she’d placed on the back of her head.

  “It would seem she doesn’t remember anything,” she said gently.

  Tara sensed her nanna watching her. Stunned by her grandmother’s meaning, her mouth dropped open. She didn’t want Nanna to see the distress that news caused her, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Wha-at?” she stuttered.

  Nanna only nodded. A weight seemed to pull down on her shoulders. She inspected her plate, staring at the floral patterns with eyes that didn’t seem to focus on the tiny pink flowers. Finally, she eyed Tara. “We should have done more to protect you, kids,” she said.

  Tara shook her head. “It wasn’t any fault of yours—or anyone else for that matter. There wasn’t anything you could do,” she assured her.

  Nanna contemplated Tara. “I knew we were wrong. I should have stood up to them. We should have trained you kids on how to protect yourselves. Maybe if you’d known what you were doing….”

  Tara looked at her grandmother, her eyes widening as realization dawned. “You—knew?” she said.

  Nanna nodded. “We thought not knowing would protect you—if you weren’t playing with your powers. We—they—all thought they could keep you and your friends safe—if we didn’t teach you—if you didn’t know what you were.” She shook her head.

  The look on her face made tears spring to Tara’s.

  Nanna closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them, looking down at her hands. “We were wrong. I knew we were wrong—but I didn’t know how to get them to listen to me. And you still figured out what you were. You still knew—and not having been taught how to handle your powers, as you should have been, you got yourself into more danger than if we’d showed you what you needed to know, to begin with….” She shook her head again. “We should have taught you.” She met her granddaughter's gaze. “We should have prepared you for who you were going up against.”

  Tara stared at her. “I can’t believe this. You’re a—witch.”

  Nanna nodded.

  Tara eyeballed her plate—her food forgotten. “And mom?” She didn’t have to look up to see her nanna nod again. Tara looked up at her grandmother. “Can you teach us now?”

  Her nanna’s midnight-gray gaze took on a determined look, and she gave her a firm nod. “Yes, granddaughter. It’s the least we can do.”

  Tara’s brows shot up. Her mother left two years before, following her fiancé across the country. “We?”

  Nanna smiled. Her wizened face lit as creases made her eyes appear to smile too. “Yes, dear,” she said. “There is a whole coven of us, after all.”

  Tara had picked up her glass and started to take a drink when her nanna laid that one on her, and she choked. As the lemon-aid slid painfully past areas it had no business being, she screeched, “Wow! You are full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

  Nanna smirked at that. “This has been a long time in being set right. And it’s about time.”

  Tara laughed. She couldn’t help it. She shook her head. She’d come from a family of witches. Nanna was a practiced witch. Wow! While she’d known, she was one—of all the things she’d thought while trying to teach herself, over the years, this wasn’t one of them.

  When Tara made it to bed that night, she lay there for more than an hour despite her exhaustion, mulling over what her grandmother had revealed to her, excitement keeping her wide awake.

  This—well—this changed everything.