by Coralie Moss
“Mom!”
Harper, his girlfriend, Leilani, and Thatcher stomped across the grass, the tops of their backpacks visible behind their heads. I hugged the kids and sent them in to shower and unpack.
Close on the heels of the three teens, a pickup truck loaded with two bright yellow kayaks drove past the entrance to the driveway, stopped, and backed up. Wes’s hair shone garnet red in the slanting light when he stuck his head out the driver’s side window, waved, and skillfully maneuvered the vehicle onto the grass. Tanner unfolded himself out of the back seat and reached back inside the car for an armload of shopping bags.
A few minute later, Wes and Kaz were bickering in front of the outdoor grill, Leilani was apportioning bread dough while she chatted with Harper, and Thatch hustled through the kitchen, gathering plates and utensils.
“Dude,” Thatch said in his brother’s direction, “grab that end.”
Harper leapt to help reposition the oak table, adding a long bench to one side and enough chairs to accommodate seven diners.
“We’re starved, Mom,” Thatcher said. “Haven’t eaten much more than instant oatmeal and those homemade power bars Harper’s been experimenting with, y’know, the ones that taste like tree bark.”
“Hey! I’m working on it!” Harp tossed a stack of cloth napkins at Thatcher’s head.
Thatcher ducked and laughed. I dreaded the day their bantering no longer echoed through the house.
“And Mom,” Thatcher added, sidling next to me, “those guys with Tanner? They are so cool.”
The ultimate compliment from a teenager.
Twenty minutes later, food was on the table: two platters of grilled vegetarian sausages, a cutting board of fresh-baked focaccia and three styles of goat cheese. I poured ratatouille into a ceramic bowl, tucked in a broad serving spoon, and took my seat at the head of the table. Tanner chose the chair next to mine.
Once the scraping of chairs and bench legs had ceased, Wes tapped his beer bottle with a fork and cleared his throat. “Begging everyone’s indulgence, I would be pleased to offer a blessing before we eat.
“Mother Earth, Father Sun,
Bless these bodies, All and One.
Bless the soil, rain, sun and air,
The hands that toiled to bring us this fare.
So Merry Mote and Blessed Meet,
Grace is done, and it’s time to eat.”
He lifted his head when he finished and grinned. “Dig in!”
“Can you hand me the bread?” I asked.
Tanner had longer arms and was closer to the board. He set it between us. I ripped off two chunks and handed him one. Leilani had topped the slabs with rosemary and fleur de sel. My mouth watered, and I groaned—quietly, but it was definitely a groan—as I chewed.
Sun-ripened wheat, ground into flour, formed the body of the bread. Nimble fingers had pressed and pulled the dough into shape and coated it with olive oil. Those same fingers acted as a conduit to and from a youthful heart, one filled with promise and the shy desire to please, and be pleasing, and to nurture.
I glanced at Leilani. She was feeding a bite of bread to Harper.
“Do you sense anything?” I whispered to Tanner.
He stopped chewing and surveyed the table. Everyone was absorbed in passing platters and filling. “No.”
I pointed to the bread. “Take another bite. Chew slowly. I think she’s a witch too.”
He did as I suggested, studying Leilani while he chewed. Both his eyebrows were raised when he turned to me, nodded, and gave a quick thumbs up.
Now, what do I do?
Instinct. I trust my instinct.
“Leilani, this bread is delicious. Did you add anything special? Any secret ingredients?” I asked, doing a bit of seat-of-the-pants planning on how I could steer the conversation toward magic without completely freaking out Harper’s lovely girlfriend.
“When I’m in the kitchen, I just do what feels…natural,” she said, “what feels right. Although I do talk to the ingredients when I’m working and I can never follow a recipe exactly.”
“It tastes like you put a lot of love into this batch of bread.”
She blushed and lifted her shoulders toward her ears. Harper slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer.
“My dad always tells me I work magic when I’m in the kitchen,” she confessed.
I couldn’t have asked for a better lead-in. “Have you ever considered that what you’re doing when you’re preparing food is a kind of…magic?”
Leilani’s cheeks turned an even brighter pink, and her gaze darted to Harper.
He kissed her nose and turned to me. “Mom. Tanner. I kind of let it slip to Lei-li about the bat…”
“And then I told her about the raccoons,” Thatcher piped in, “oh, and the river otters…”
“River otters?” Wes reached across the table and grabbed Thatcher’s forearm. “You’ve got an affinity with them too?”
Thatcher nodded then shot me a guilty look. I threw up my hands.
Here goes nothing.
“Leilani.” I regrouped, poured a fresh glass of water from the pitcher, and forged ahead. “I’m a witch. Kind of a lapsed witch, you might say. But since I was a very little girl, I’ve experienced a strong affinity with earth—literal earth, as in soil—as well as with plants and trees, anything that has roots.”
“Is that why Harper and Thatch can communicate with animals?” Leilani’s eyes were round as a pair of vintage Bakelite buttons.
“Yes, magical abilities are inherited.”
“My Papa—his name is Mal—is a sorcerer,” she admitted, “and I was never, ever, ever supposed to admit that to anyone. He’s a good sorcerer,” she added, spreading her fingers and pressing them against the tabletop. “And a good man.”
“Mal, as in Malvyn Brodeur?” asked Wes. “He’s also rumored to be very good with other people’s money.”
Leilani nodded. “He is,” she agreed proudly. “And my other father—my Dad—is James.”
“The rest of our guests have magical abilities too. Would you like to hear about them?” I asked, hoping this wasn’t all too much for one night.
Leilani nodded quickly and snuggled more into Harper.
Wes cleared his throat and set down his knife and fork.
“I follow the druidic path, as do Kazimir and Tanner.” He shifted in his seat, looking slightly uncomfortable. Kaz shoved another bite of sausage in his mouth and chewed while Wes explained. “Druids are similar to witches, but there are significant differences. Witches can choose to have animal familiars. Druids can take multiple animal forms.”
“Any animal form?” asked Thatcher.
“No. The bond is very specific. One by water, one by air, one by land.”
“What can you become?”
Wes smiled. “Both River and I count otter as our land form, though as you well know, they also spend much of their time in the water.”
Harper broke in, “I was probably around seven when I realized what I felt toward anything with wings wasn’t normal.” He wrapped his arm more tightly around Leilani’s shoulders and spoke directly to Tanner. “Like, I could see out of their eyes, feel them in flight. But I never experienced anything like what happened with that giant bat, the feeling of bonding. I couldn’t stop talking about it. Ask Thatch.”
Thatcher nodded his head. “Oh, man, and every time we passed one of the really big trees on the trail we were cleaning up, we had to stop so he could check it for bats.”
“What about you, Thatcher?” Tanner asked.
My sixteen-year-old grinned. “Mom knows I’ve always liked four-footed, furry creatures. Squirrels. Feral cats. And I always wanted to go looking for mountain lions whenever one was spotted on the island.”
“But what about the raccoon?”
Thatcher fidgeted with the food on his plate. “I must be a late bloomer because it was only like, two summers ago, maybe, that I started following random animal trails. I go
t pretty familiar with this one raccoon and then her babies, and then one of them bonded with me. Her name is Pokey.” He ripped apart another hunk of bread and used it to sop up the last of the ratatouille on his plate. “Not sure how it works exactly, but if I think about them, the raccoons, they just…show up.”
“What about you, Leilani?” Tanner reached for another piece of focaccia and refreshed the puddle of oil on his plate.
“Growing up, I spent a lot of time in Dad’s greenhouses, but mostly I just love making food for people. It makes me happy.”
I touched Tanner’s thigh and spoke before he could. “I…we suspect you’re imbuing the food you make with your own kind of magic.”
“That makes total sense,” she said. “My dad’s kind of like you, Mrs. Jones. He talks to plants.” She rolled her eyes. “A lot.”
“Have your parents given you lessons, trained you how to expand your magic and use it for different purposes?” I asked.
“I’d say they teach by example,” she said, a shy smile turning her cheeks into apricots. “Dad grows food. Papa grows money.”
“Tanner says we’re all going to magic school,” Thatcher announced, beaming.
Leilani gave him a quizzical look. “Magic school? Like spells and stuff?” She turned to Tanner. “Is that something I can do too?”
Tanner cleared his throat first. “Yes, you can.”
She looked at her lap, the muscles in her upper arms flexing as she worried at her napkin. “Mal and James have always said I was special,” she whispered, “but I figured that’s what all parents say to their kids.”
“I’d like to meet them,” Tanner said.
Leilani lifted her head. “I would be happy to introduce you. When does magic school start?”
“Mid-September. We hold retreats on the mainland one weekend a month and have weeklong events in January and early July.”
I scanned the table. Plates were mostly emptied, and all the food was gone but for bread crumbs and juice from the cooked tomatoes. “Did anyone pick up dessert?”
Silence.
Leilani raised her hand. “I can make a lemon poppy seed cake, if anyone’s interested.”
“I think we’re very interested,” I said. “The kitchen is yours. Harper and Thatcher, you two are on dish detail.”
“I’ll scrape the grill,” Wes announced, starting to stand. He leaned across the table and poked Kaz. “You comin’?”
“I have to go see a witch about a potion.” Kaz’s eyes beamed. Tanner picked up his plate and the empty bread board and walked them to the counter.
“Before you do,” he said, speaking to the older men, “can I get you two to check out the bat with me?”
“Business before pleasure, boss.”
“Harper, coming?”
I begged off participating in the Q and A I was sure would follow the introduction to the mysterious flying creature hanging in my shed. Thatcher tagged along, assuring me he would be all over dish duty on his return. Leilani looked like she wanted to join in but returned to squeezing lemons and portioning out the ingredients for her cake.
“Did you want to go with them?” I asked.
“I’m a little overwhelmed,” she assured me. “Baking calms me down.”
A ‘little bit overwhelmed’ explained my current state too, and being in the kitchen with Leilani was calming. “Did you find everything you need?”
She nodded and poked around in the spice section of one cupboard, withdrawing a jar of poppy seeds, a shy smile on her face. “I know your kitchen pretty well, Ms. Jones.”
“Which means it’s time for you to start calling me Calli,” I teased.
Leilani smiled more confidently and twisted her hair into a messy bun atop her head. The oven pinged it was up to heat, and she returned her attention to measuring and mixing.
I took my refreshed water glass to the deck and tried to make myself comfortable on the swing. The cushion under my head had the consistency of a paving stone. I ignored the discomfort and let the low thrum of male voices guide me past the lumps of hardened pillow stuffing into a half-dozing, half-floating state.
Sweet, lemon-scented air wafted through the screen door.
A metal utensil clanged against porcelain.
Someone lifted my head and sat, adding their weight to the swing and tipping it in their direction. My head came to rest on something softer than a paving stone but not as soft as my bed. A car started then another, the hum of engines trailing off until silence blanketed the property. I was close to falling fully asleep when fingertips rubbing my shoulder alerted me someone wanted an answer to their question.
“What did you say?” I mumbled, wiping the corners of my mouth.
“I think you should go to bed.” Tanner shifted his weight and moved his hand off my body.
“But I didn’t get any cake.”
“I saved you a slice.”
I groaned and sat up, shifting to rest on my other hip.
Tanner handed over a dessert plate. “I thought dinner went well.”
I popped a bite cake into my mouth and murmured agreement. I was about to say more when the full effect of Leilani’s inner workings hit my tongue. “Wow, there is a lot of lemon in this.” The cake was dense, delicious, and intensely tart. I chewed another bite, poppy seeds crunching between my teeth. “Either she wasn’t paying attention when she was measuring or she’s having a strong reaction to our dinner conversation. Or to something else.”
Tanner murmured his agreement.
“Who’s here?” I asked, placing the dessert plate on the side table. “I thought I heard both cars leave.”
“You did. Kaz is off to woo his witch, Wes and Thatcher are playing a video game upstairs, and Harper took Leilani home.”
“Is she okay?”
“I think she’ll be fine,” he said, pressing the tines of his fork onto the last of the cake crumbs.
“What did Kaz and Wes have to say about the bat?”
“We put a tracker on it. Harper’s disappointed we let it go, but he understands. And I don’t think that’s the last we’ll see of the creature.”
“You released it?”
“We try to do what’s best for the animal in these situations. Didn’t seem to be in a hurry, though. Either that or it was groggy from the twenty-four-hour spell, but yes, there is no longer a bat in your shed.” He leaned forward and glanced around the periphery of the treeline. “But I don’t think it’s left your property.”
“Did Pokey make an appearance?”
Tanner chuckled. “Thatcher was hoping the raccoon would stop by so he could impress the guys, but he needn’t worry. They’re already impressed. With both of your sons.”
I popped another bite of cake into my mouth, ready this time for the heavy dose of tart lemon. “Did you learn anything new after I left the office?”
“Clifford and Abigail are doing better. Rose and River brought them out of the catatonia spell, and now they’re recovering. They’re willing to sit for interviews around lunchtime tomorrow.”
A comfortable silence settled between us. I wrapped my fingers around the sensation of being in the immediate vicinity of a man I was attracted to and let go of the sharper edges accompanying said man. “I’ve gotten backed up on a couple other complaints I need to follow up with. Nothing that appears related to the Pearmains. But I’ll give you a set of spare keys to the house and the office. Kerry knows to expect some combination of the three of you for as long as this takes.”
“Wes will head off the island tomorrow and go straight to the other orchards. He and Kaz will probably go for a paddle first thing in the morning. They like to check on local otter populations whenever they travel.”
I listened to Tanner’s voice, zeroing in on its texture and rhythm more than the words coming out of his mouth. He’d stepped into my life a little too fast, a little too neat and had a little too much baggage. Ancient baggage. And we hadn’t touched upon the blood wards or the Apple Witch at
all.
“I’ve got other cases to update too,” he said. “Go to bed. I’ll see to whatever needs doing.”
Chapter 8
Thursday morning, delivering fresh-squeezed orange juice seemed as good an excuse as any to grab a private moment with my boys. Inside the tent, Thatcher was still asleep, but Harper was awake and chafing to talk.
“Mom.” He swirled the juice with one finger and kept his voice low. “I can’t believe you never told us you were a witch. All these years of you saying to me and Thatch that you’d support us no matter who we loved or what we did and you didn’t even tell us what you really are.”
“Doug asked me to keep quiet,” I said, my stomach going sour. My son made a good point, and I was grasping at straws. Never a good place to be with a teenager.
“But is Dad a witch? Or a druid like these guys?”
There had been whiffs of magic in the shadowed corners of the Flechettes’ palatial estate. But Doug’s parents weren’t the warm and fuzzy type, and they made it clear I wasn’t going to be the daughter-in-law representing the family on the various boards they cycled through. When Doug’s mother put him in charge of all the realty offices on the Gulf Islands, I was relieved to be out of their daily orbit. Until the move began to feel like an isolation tactic.
“I don’t recall ever seeing Doug call on magic,” I admitted. “Only denigrate mine. And the little bit my aunt used when you two were babies.”
Oh, this was so much for my child to process. And the more Harper was feeling, the more his face went blank. “Why would Dad do that?”
“I assumed his parents had been the same way.”
“But why didn’t you insist, Mom? Did you even try?”
I could only shake my head and try to not cry. Of course I had tried, until trying and failing dried up my self-esteem. Years ago, I’d stopped asking myself why I wasn’t more insistent, and eventually the pain of staying silent dulled until it was small enough I could wrap it up and pack it away.
