Witchin' Around the Clock

by Amanda M. Lee

  “It’s not about being the oldest,” Hazel countered. “It’s about power ... and level-headedness. You can’t lay claim to either.”

  Oh, good grief. This was going south ... and fast. “Thistle can be the leader,” I said hurriedly. “I’m fine with it.” The last thing we needed was a meltdown at this juncture. “It doesn’t matter who’s in charge.”

  “Of course it does.” Hazel wrinkled her nose. “You’re the leader. You’re in charge of your trio. It is what it is.”

  I wanted to dig a hole and crawl inside to avoid Thistle’s hateful glare. “It doesn’t matter. I ... Aunt Tillie!” I’d never been so excited to see anyone in my life. Sure, my great-aunt was wearing a hat that had palm fronds sticking out of it and a pair of green leggings that featured tree branches creeping into a very odd – almost obscene, really – place, but if anyone could make Hazel back down, it was Aunt Tillie.

  “Why are you yelling my name, Bay?” Aunt Tillie asked distastefully as she strolled into the room. “I may be old, but my hearing is just fine.”

  “It’s not about being old.” I offered her a cutesy smile that felt out of place. “We missed you. You know how much we love you.”

  Suspicion flitted across Aunt Tillie’s pinched features. “What are you up to?”

  “I was just explaining to the girls that I’ve always been interested in their development as witches,” Hazel volunteered. “They’re amazing women. I’ll wager they’ve turned into amazing witches. I can’t wait to see their magical display at the gathering.”

  Hold up. This was the first I heard about that. “What magical display?”

  “Your mothers have signed you up for a spell performance,” Aunt Tillie replied, her gaze never leaving Hazel’s face. “They capitulated to peer pressure, even though I told them it was ridiculous.”

  “We’re not performing a spell.” I was firm. “It’s just not going to happen.”

  “Definitely not,” Thistle agreed. “We’re not dancing monkeys.”

  “You have one way to get out of it,” Aunt Tillie countered pointedly, her gaze bouncing between us. “You have a built-in excuse if you just own up to the secret you’ve all been keeping.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was referring to. “I don’t think that’s necessary. In fact ... .” I trailed off, uncertain. Honestly, I had no idea what more I could say.

  “We’re not using that as an excuse,” Thistle shot back. “We’ll just tell our mothers we don’t want to do it. Stop being ... well ... you.”

  “Keep pushing me, mouth,” Aunt Tillie warned. “You won’t like what happens. I have enough on my plate without having to worry about you.”

  Thistle rolled her eyes. “And here we go.”

  For her part, Hazel seemed more intrigued at the mention of a secret than anything else. “What excuse do you have built in to get out of the ritual spell?” she asked, her eyes keen as she looked between us. “The only thing I can think of is ... .” Realization dawned on her face and I recognized we were in real trouble a split-second before she started screeching.

  “Oh, you’re pregnant!” She swooped in on me and grabbed my hands. “That’s such wonderful news. How great for you.”

  “I’m not pregnant.” I jerked away from her. “I’m not stupid enough to forget how birth control works.”

  “Thanks, Bay,” Clove snapped, her eyes filling with tears. “As if I wasn’t feeling bad enough.”

  “Oh, don’t be that way. That’s not even you talking. It’s the hormones. I ... ow! What?” I turned away from Clove and focused on Thistle as she viciously tugged my ear. I was about to drag her into the other room and make her eat dirt when every pleasant thought I’d ever had fled.

  There, standing in the open doorway, were my mother, Twila and Marnie.

  “Uh-oh,” I whispered, my mouth going dry. “This isn’t good.”

  “Definitely not,” Thistle agreed. “Do you think we can play Aunt Tillie’s cat card and be really still? Maybe they won’t see us.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think that’s going to work.”

  Sixteen

  “Explain yourselves.”

  Mom, Marnie and Twila dragged us into the family living quarters, which were separate from the rest of the inn, so they could scream at us without garnering attention from the guests. It was bad enough that they’d found out, but the pitying look Hazel shot us before we disappeared into the house was an added smack in the face.

  Speaking of that, I wanted to smack her in the face … with a brick. I knew that she hadn’t planned any of this, but if she’d just kept her mouth shut none of this would’ve happened.

  “I think she’s talking to you, Clove,” Thistle noted, throwing herself into one of the comfortable easy chairs.

  Clove looked terrified. I thought she might actually pass out. She was so pale I could practically see through her. To his credit, Sam stood between her and our mothers. He was trying to be a wall, but all he was doing was making himself a target.

  “Don’t yell at her,” he ordered, his hands clenched into fists at his side. It wasn’t that he was going to punch anyone as much as he was obviously trying to bolster himself. I felt bad for him. “She can’t take it.”

  “She can’t take it?” Marnie arched an eyebrow. As Clove’s mother, it was her job to deliver the ultimate diatribe. She looked as wan as her daughter. They were carbon copies of each other, so she painted an interesting picture. “Well, perhaps she’s not the only one who can’t take it. Maybe I can’t take it either.”

  Oh, that was a huge load of crap. “Nothing has happened to you,” I volunteered, drawing three sets of furious eyes. “You’re not pregnant so ... why don’t you get over yourselves?”

  Thistle’s eyes went wide with amusement as Landon sidled closer to me.

  “Sweetie, now might not be the time for you to pick a fight,” he offered. “I mean ... I’m not telling you what to do or anything, but I’m not sure I can take all three of them.”

  I shot him a quelling look. “I’ve got this.” My words were bolder than my courage. “Clove is pregnant. There. It’s out of the bag. You know and everybody can calm down and accept it.”

  “Accept it?” Marnie’s voice was unnaturally shrill. “What if I don’t want to accept it? Have you considered that?”

  Ugh. She was being purposely obnoxious. “It’s not about you,” I shot back. “It’s about Clove. Why can’t you guys just be supportive and give her the encouragement she needs? There’s a reason we were trying to keep it secret.”

  “And just how long were you planning to keep it secret?” Mom challenged, her eyes a fascinating mixture of fire and ice. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I would think she was about to combust. “Were you going to hide Clove from us for six months and then magically show up with a baby?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, she’s a lot further along than that. You really only have four and a half months to adjust.”

  Marnie’s mouth dropped open. “Four and a half months!” She swiveled on Clove. “How are you that far along?”

  “I think the better question is: How did we not notice she was that far along?” Twila countered. She seemed to be taking the news best. That was hardly a surprise. She might’ve been the flighty one — and that was putting it mildly — but her nature allowed her to roll with changes much more seamlessly than my rigid mother and Clove’s dramatic maternal figure. “Why didn’t you tell us, Clove?”

  “That’s what I want to know.” Aunt Tillie, cookie in hand, plopped herself on the couch and smiled. She seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. I wanted to shake her. I knew her finding out about the baby would screw us. Still, I figured she would be able to hold out for a few days. “We’re not ogres. Well, Winnie is an ogre, but she’s not your mother. Why not just gather your courage and tell us the truth?”

  Clove frowned. “I just ... I was afraid. I knew you guys would yell. I hate it when you yell.”


  “What makes you think we’re going to yell?” Marnie shrieked.

  “Perhaps because you’re yelling,” Sam shot back. “I wanted to tell everyone from the start, but Clove refused. She’s terrified ... she hasn’t been sleeping. You all should think long and hard about that. She shouldn’t be this afraid.”

  He wasn’t wrong. “That’s a very good point,” I said. “Do you want us living in fear? I mean ... that’s ridiculous. We’re not kids anymore; we’re adults. There’s no reason to freak out about this.”

  “Oh, really?” Marnie shot me a look that could’ve melted a cauldron. “You don’t think that being married is a necessity when one is pregnant?”

  “No,” I answered without hesitation. “I don’t believe that. You were all married when you had us and look how that turned out. None of the marriages lasted, but we’re fine.”

  “Are you blaming that on us?”

  Well, that was a thorny question. “It takes two people to break up a marriage,” I answered carefully. “You can’t deny that our fathers felt overwhelmed by this family. They shouldn’t have left. That’s on them and they’ll have to live with the repercussions the rest of their days. That doesn’t mean Clove has to be married to be a good mother.”

  “Of course not,” Mom interjected. “That’s not what we’re saying. You aren’t little girls any longer. You’re not teenagers with rampaging hormones. Why couldn’t you wait until after the wedding, Clove?”

  Still behind Sam, Clove peeked out, sheepish. “It’s not like we did it on purpose. It was an accident. We thought we would have more time before it happened. That doesn’t mean we’re not excited about the baby.”

  “Nobody says you can’t be excited,” Marnie shot back. “I just ... I didn’t expect this from you. Thistle, yes. I thought she would be the bad one.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at Thistle.

  “Hey! I’m not the one who’s baby crazy,” Thistle snapped. “Clove was dying to be a mother. I guess she got her wish.”

  “I guess she did.” Marnie was prim. “Well, what’s the next step? What do we tell people?”

  I felt as if I was mired in conversational quicksand ... fifty years ago. “Why do you have to tell anyone anything? It’s nobody’s business.”

  “Besides, Sam and Clove are going to be married in, like, two days,” Thistle pointed out. “After that, will anybody really care?”

  “Frankly, I don’t understand why anyone cares now,” Landon noted. “I mean ... are you not going to love this baby because Sam and Clove weren’t married when it was conceived? Try as I might, I can’t imagine that. I think this is going to be the most spoiled baby on the planet.”

  “And who doesn’t love babies?” I added.

  Thistle and Aunt Tillie raised their hands, earning a dark glare from me. They weren’t helping.

  “What?” Thistle made a face. “They’re messy poop machines. It’s not like they’re all that great.”

  Marcus shot her a look. “You’re going to be a fabulous mother someday. I can’t wait to see you holding a baby and going gooey all over.”

  “We’ve already talked about this,” Thistle warned. “I’ll have one ... maybe two if the first one is really quiet. Once I pop them out, you’re responsible for all the diapers and midnight feedings. I need my beauty sleep.”

  She was a bold talker, but nobody, including Marcus, believed her.

  “It will be fine,” he reassured her. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Definitely,” I agreed. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about ... so stop worrying. This isn’t a big deal. Clove is financially stable. She and Sam have an awesome house. This baby will be loved and there’s a wedding in a few days. Stop your bellyaching.”

  For the first time since the baby bomb dropped, my mother and aunts looked almost happy.

  “It is kind of neat,” Mom said after a beat. “I mean ... I’m not thrilled about how it happened, but having Annie here so often has made us realize how much we missed having small children under the roof. It might be fun.”

  “Yes, and this will be a small child who won’t be able to talk back for years,” Marnie noted. “Those are the best kinds of children.”

  I rolled my eyes but maintained my composure. “See. This is a good thing. We’re expanding our family.”

  “Yeah.” A genuine smile spread across Marnie’s face. “I hope it’s a girl. Do you know yet?”

  Clove shook her head. “We’re waiting until the birth.”

  “Why?” Aunt Tillie made a hilarious face. “It’s a girl. You know that. It’s always girls in this family ... and the babies keep the Winchester name.” She said the last part for Sam’s benefit, but the look on his face told me that despite the healthy level of fear he kept in reserve for our tempestuous great-aunt he was having none of it.

  “The baby’s last name will be Winchester-Cornell,” he corrected. “We’ve already talked about that.”

  “No way!” Aunt Tillie leaned forward. “That’s not how it works in this family.”

  “That’s how it works now,” Clove corrected, firm. “It’s not fair for Sam to be cut out.”

  “Besides, we had different names when we were kids,” I added. “You changed them only after the divorces.”

  “That’s neither here nor there. All babies born to this family are Winchesters.”

  “The baby will still be a Winchester,” Thistle offered. “It will be a Cornell, too. There’s no reason to get your panties in a bunch.”

  “Okay, mouth, you’ve done it this time.” Aunt Tillie’s face flushed with annoyance. “You’re on top of my list. Congratulations. You managed to supplant Hazel and Margaret. That’s truly miraculous.”

  “Oh, curse me,” Thistle shot back. “I don’t even care.”

  “You should. Besides, I’m not wearing panties. They don’t look right with these leggings, so I’m going commando. That means there are no panties to get into a bunch.”

  I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at the pained look on Landon’s face. Apparently he could’ve gone his entire life without having to envision the picture she was painting.

  “Let’s focus on the important things,” Mom suggested. “Clove is pregnant and she’s getting married. I don’t think we have time to worry about trivial stuff when we have that on the agenda.”

  She wasn’t wrong. “Yes. Let’s focus on that. I mean ... you guys are all going to be grannies and grand-aunties. That’s got to be exciting.”

  The smiles that had been on their faces died.

  “I didn’t think about that,” Mom muttered.

  “Yeah, I don’t want to be a granny.” Marnie was firm. “I need to come up with something different for the kid to call me. This granny thing won’t cut it.”

  Ah, well, one crisis averted.

  LANDON WAS SO DETERMINED TO KEEP ME from having nightmares he practically dragged me on top of him to sleep. At first I thought it would be impossible to drift off. I was wrong.

  “How did you sleep?”

  His eyes were the first thing I saw when I woke. He was staring directly into my face, and he looked worried.

  “Fine.” I smiled as I ran my finger over his stubbled chin. “Everything is fine.”

  “You look better rested than yesterday, that’s for sure. Still ... if you had a bad dream I want to know about it.”

  “Well ... I had a dream about Mom, Twila and Marnie wearing shirts with the word ‘Grandmother’ on them and they were crossed out with those big circle things with the lines through them. Aunt Tillie was trying to strap the baby to her chest and ride around on her scooter. That wasn’t exactly a good dream. It wasn’t a bad one either.”

  “I can’t help you there. That’s simple anxiety ... though the big conversation went down better than you led me to believe it would. They weren’t nearly as furious as I expected.”

  “There’s no reason for them to be furious. I mean
... Clove and Sam are getting married. Even if they weren’t, this is hardly the end of the world. Most of the time I think of our mothers as progressive. On some things, though, they have an antiquated belief system.”

  “Yeah ... although I prefer we’re married before having kids.”

  I shifted, mildly uncomfortable with the direct way he addressed our future. “Oh, yeah?”

  His smirk was mischievous. “Are you not okay with that?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it that much.”

  “That’s not true. We have talked about it. You know I believe you’re my future, right?”

  It had taken a great deal of time and comfort, but I did know that. I couldn’t see myself with anyone else, and I knew he felt the same. “I know. Still, I was kind of hoping we could wait a bit before we have to worry about that.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree. Your powers being what they are, I don’t think it’s safe to add a baby to the mix now.”

  I hadn’t even considered that. “A baby would probably be afraid of ghosts.”

  He pursed his lips, cocking his head as he thought about the statement. “I don’t know. Were you afraid of the first ghost you saw?”

  “I’m not even sure I realized it was a ghost. I mean ... I probably saw ghosts long before I could comprehend what they were. I’m not even entirely sure when I came to the conclusion that I was actually dealing with a ghost.”

  “Good point. What are the odds any child we have will see ghosts?”

  That was the question. “I don’t know. It’s not a very common — or comfortable — gift. It runs in families. I got it because Aunt Tillie can see them. My mother can’t, but ... it’s possible that one or more of our children could see ghosts.”

  “Then we’ll deal with it.” He was matter-of-fact. “It’ll be easier for our child because you’ll understand what’s happening. It had to be difficult for your mother when she couldn’t see what you were seeing.”