Spells of the Heart

by Ellen Dugan

  A meeting about the museum expansion ran long, and was filled with pontification from various committee members. The topic of discussion was mostly focused on who’d raised, or donated the most money—more than actual information about the construction progress. I was asked to design yet another pamphlet. Some days I really wished I hadn’t mentioned to my boss that graphic design was a hobby.

  I managed to get away from my desk at 1:30 and went down to the little café in the museum. They had soup and sandwiches, nothing fancy, but they were expensive. I sucked it up, since I’d forgotten my lunch, and got a cup of soup and half a sandwich to go. I escaped outside, grabbed an empty bench in the shade of a butterscotch-gold maple, and felt like I was living dangerously.

  I’d made it through my sandwich and was working on my soup when a shadow fell across me. I glanced up. “Oh, hi Nathan.”

  “Do you have a minute?” Nathan asked politely.

  “Sure.” I grinned up at him. “If you don’t mind me eating my lunch while we talk.”

  Nathan sat, and brushed his dark blonde hair back. It was longer than when I first met him, and it brushed his shoulders now. It still surprised me that this earnest young man and my dramatic, gothic cousin were a couple.

  “Ivy insisted that I come and talk to you today,” he admitted.

  “She did?”

  Nathan’s steel blue eyes slanted to mine. “Ivy had a hunch that something happened at the bungalow last night.”

  “Damned intuitives,” I grumbled.

  Nathan leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “She had a precognitive dream about you finding something important, and a teal door.”

  I tilted my head. “Wow, her dreams are becoming more accurate than ever. But what she saw was more post-cognitive.”

  “Meaning that it had already happened.” Nathan nodded in agreement. “Care to share? I’ll keep whatever you tell me in the strictest of confidence.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “I’d like to get your impressions on the most recent paranormal activity at the bungalow anyway. You’ll probably want to take notes.”

  Nathan pulled a legal pad and pen out of his satchel. “Go ahead,” he said once he was ready.

  “Yesterday after Duncan and I pulled the damaged paneling out of the basement, we found a little box built into the top of the basement steps. Inside of it we discovered a metal box that held some important family papers...”

  I explained to Nathan what we’d found, that we’d gone to Thomas Drake to share the information and see if he could track down Irene’s daughter. Then I skipped ahead to the part where I’d come home and found Irene waiting for me.

  “Full body apparition?” Nathan interrupted me to clarify.

  “Yes.”

  “And she interacted with you?”

  I took a final sip of my water. “Yes she did. I took some notes on my phone last night.” I pulled my phone out, tapped on the ‘Notes’ icon and handed it over to Nathan.

  “Why don’t you take a screenshot of that and text it to me?” Nathan said.

  “Oh sure,” I said, and did as he asked. “That’s faster.”

  “And more accurate.” Nathan continued to write on the legal pad.

  “Now that we’ve found out about Irene’s child, do you suppose the paranormal activities at the bungalow will fade?”

  Nathan brushed back his hair. “It’s likely, but considering what Ivy has told me about your grandmother’s ghost and how she still likes to make her presence known, even after the grimoire was recovered—”

  “That the old girl might decide to hang around for a while.”

  “I’d speculate that she will remain active until her descendants are contacted, maybe even brought back to William’s Ford.”

  I watched a few colorful maple leaves fall and drift to the ground. “You’re probably right.”

  “So you’ve decided not to share this with the family until the woman’s whereabouts can be confirmed?”

  “Correct.” I gathered up my trash. “Aunt Faye finding out about her sibling’s secret child is going to be a pretty big shock for her. It is going to hurt her feelings, and I’d rather minimize that with as much positive information as I can.”

  “Well, you’d know about that first hand, wouldn’t you?” Ivy’s voice came from behind us.

  Both Nathan and I both jumped guiltily, and turned simultaneously to find Ivy standing behind our bench.

  Nathan sighed. “Hello Ivy.”

  Wow, epic fail with the psychic abilities, I thought and tried a smile. “Hey Shorty. I didn’t know you were back there.”

  Ivy stomped around the bench to face us both. “I knew, I just knew that I needed to come out here this afternoon.” She folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Now I know why my intuition has been screaming at me all day that something epic was brewing.”

  “How much did you hear while you were eavesdropping?” Nathan asked coolly.

  Brave boy, was my first thought as I saw Ivy take a deep breath in preparation to yell, or possibly to make him go flying through the air. I held up a hand. “Ivy, stop!”

  “You don’t get to tell me whether or not I can yell at my boyfriend!” Ivy snapped.

  “This isn’t helping anything.” I set my little cup of soup aside. “Before you shout at me, or decide to blast me all the way to the state line; sit down, shut up and I’ll tell you about it.”

  Ivy sat beside me on the bench. “I heard most of it. Irene had a love child back in the day, and gave her up for adoption. What I can’t understand is why you went to the Drakesinstead of our family.”

  “Because the father of Irene Bishop’s child was Phillip Drake.”

  Ivy flinched. “Oh, holy shit.” She scowled over at Nathan. “I missed that part.”

  Duncan put his notes away. “That’s what happens when you skulk around spying on people.”

  Beside me, Ivy made a move, and I blocked her from diving after Nathan. “Dude,” I said to Nathan. “She’ll fry your ass if you keep using that tone.”

  Nathan chuckled. “She can try.”

  Ivy glared and raised her hands. “You don’t think I will?”

  Before she could do anything, I grabbed Ivy’s hands and yanked them down. “Do I have to remind you, that we are in public?” I whispered furiously to my cousin.

  “No worries.” Ivy relaxed and leaned back on the bench. “Nathan and I will settle this later, when we’re alone.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Won’t we honey?”

  “Kids,” I said trying to maintain some semblance of control.

  “I happen to agree with Autumn,” Nathan said, ignoring the threat from Ivy. “The more information you can gather about this woman, before you present this to the family, the better.”

  “Phillip Drake...” Ivy trailed off. “Hey, isn’t there a building named after him on campus?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “According to Thomas, his uncle Phillip was an English professor here at the University.”

  Ivy blew out a long breath. “And I suppose old man Drake would have the resources and the money to track someone down.”

  “This woman is his relative too,” I reminded Ivy.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “But I’m telling you, finding out that the Drake and the Bishop lines have combined? That’s a little disturbing.”

  “Why?” Nathan frowned at her.

  “Because that means that there’s some lady out there with the magick of both the Bishops and the Drake families.” Ivy shuddered. “That’s totally got to be a sign of the apocalypse.”

  I tried to cover my reaction to my cousin’s words. “Now let’s not be overly dramatic,” I suggested. “When I first moved here Gwen and Bran told me the story about the Colonial era Patience Bishop and James Drake. They were married and had a child.”

  “Yeah, and he died, and she and the baby disappeared!” Ivy reminded me. “Sounds like history has repeated itself!”

  Ivy did ha
ve a point. But it made me wonder, if Duncan and I ever became an official couple...would we face the same sort of derision? Would our future be as star-crossed as Patience and James, and Irene and Phillip?

  ***

  By the time I got home to the bungalow I was in a sour mood. With the office politics about the Historical Society, and Professor Meyer being more absent minded than usual, I’d had it. Ivy’s words kept circling around in my brain about the Bishops and the Drakes combining. A sign of the apocalypse... I took a steadying breath and told myself not to let Ivy’s theatrics and my own fears get to me.

  I’d stripped off my jacket and draped it over a kitchen chair. I was standing in front of the refrigerator, staring at the contents, and hoping for some inspiration for dinner. Nothing appealed to me. At all. Letting the door swing shut, I considered ordering Chinese food. I was reaching in the kitchen drawer for a menu when I heard the back door open with a solid click.

  Duncan let himself right in.

  “Well, don’t be shy,” I said, and cringed internally as I’d sounded bitchy instead of humorous.

  “Bad day?” he asked, and shut the door behind him.

  “It was a long one.” I ran a hand through my hair.

  “I thought it would be okay if I dropped by.” Duncan stayed where he was. “But after seeing the expression on your face when I let myself in, maybe I should have called first.”

  “I didn’t realize you still had my house key.”

  Slowly, deliberately, Duncan set the key in the center of the kitchen table. “Consider it returned.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you,” I began.

  “Then don’t.”

  I studied him as he stood there with his hands tucked in his jean’s pockets and a bland expression. “I was thinking about ordering some Chinese takeout. Do you want something?”

  “I wouldn’t want to put you out.” Duncan’s voice had a bit of a snap to it.

  I sighed. “We’re going to argue anyway, aren’t we?”

  The black button down shirt he wore made his eyes appear a brighter shade of blue. Those eyes searched mine. “Why did you leave last night?” he asked.

  “Technically it was this morning,” I reminded him.

  “You could have stayed. But instead you snuck out, without waking me, and went home.”

  “I didn’t sneak out.” Ah, yes you did, my inner monologue argued. I ignored that and focused on Duncan. “Oh for goddess sake. It’s not a big deal.” Luna galloped into the kitchen full speed. She passed me up and headed straight for Duncan and began rubbing against his ankles.

  “At least someone is happy to see me.” Duncan bent to pet the cat.

  “I am happy to see you,” I argued. “Duncan, it’s been a long-ass day, maybe we could do this argument another time.”

  He frowned. “Didn’t last night mean anything to you?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was great.”

  To my surprise Duncan seemed to take offense. “Autumn.” His tone was censuring.

  “I believe I left you a pretty clear note as to my thoughts on the evening,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “You left me a note in lipstick on the mirror of my bathroom.” Duncan’s voice was flat, his expression set. “Like some Sorority girl at a Frat house.”

  “Hey!” Now, I was getting pissed.

  “Are you really going to treat last night like it was a casual hook up?” Duncan asked.

  “No,” I said, trying to hold back my temper. “Last night was different—sort of a different tone, I’d guess you’d say even from when we had sex here a few days ago. It was intense, thrilling, maybe even a little scary...and I loved it.” I made a real effort to relax and to smile at him. “Honey, you’re not the same lover I knew a couple of years ago.”

  “It’s been almost four years since we broke up,” Duncan said quietly.

  His expression and tone of voice were so serious that it made me uneasy. “What, were you keeping track of the days?” I tried to joke.

  Duncan’s eyes searching my face. “Do you remember what I said to you three years ago? It was an early October morning. You’d been out jogging. You wore an orange shirt and lime green shorts. You ran into me and knocked me down.”

  “You got in my way while I was jogging,” I countered. “And you knocked me down.”

  One side of his mouth kicked up. “You do remember.” He rested his hands on my arms. “What did I say?” His voice was soft.

  I didn’t insult him by repeating the casual questions we’d exchanged about my family and his that morning. I took a breath and steadied myself. “You told me you’d be waiting for me.”

  “And?” He stepped closer.

  I cleared my throat. “And, you kissed me.”

  “I also told you, that I loved you.”

  I backed up against the refrigerator. “That was a long time ago.” My voice sounded raspy to my own ears.

  “I love you,” Duncan slid his hands up my arms, gently taking my face in his hands. “I’ve always loved you, Autumn. For me, that’s not going to change.”

  “Maybe we should slow down,” I managed. “We only started seeing each other again. It’s a little soon to be talking about stuff like that.”

  “No. I waited for you long enough,” he said. “I love you and I wanted you to know.”

  My heart thundered in my ears. “Don’t tell me that,” I said a little desperately.

  Duncan kissed the corner of my mouth gently. “Why not?”

  “Be—because,” I stammered. “People that I let into my heart tend to leave, in one way or another.”

  He kissed my chin, then the opposite side of my mouth. “I’m still here.”

  “Would you still be with me if there wasn’t any magick between the two of us?”

  “There are many kinds of magick.” Duncan pulled me into his arms. “Let me show you.”

  I braced myself, expecting that he would pull out more of the crazy, sexy moves from the night before. But instead he lifted my hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss on the back of my hand. My breath caught in my throat at the romantic gesture. He smiled and took a few steps, gently tugging on my hand for me to follow him.

  Duncan led me upstairs and into my bedroom. Once we were there he kissed me again, slowly, softly, until my head began to spin.

  When he laid me back on the bed, I shuddered. “Duncan.” I reached out for him and he surprised me again, by loving me slowly and gently, while he whispered how much he loved me.

  Afterwards we lay in the dark. Duncan had one arm wrapped around my waist and I lay on my back staring at the ceiling. Holy crap! I thought, What do I do now? He loves me, and I’m not even sure I can open up my heart enough to trust someone, ever again. I checked his expression, and my breath hitched. He appeared to be so happy and content as he nuzzled my shoulder. I don’t want to hurt him. And that realization had me struggling against tears.

  “Don’t worry so much.” He kissed my shoulder.

  “Stay out of my head.”

  “I am,” Duncan said. “But I can feel all the emotions you are trying to suppress.”

  “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now,” I admitted.

  “What does your heart tell you?” he asked as he ran his hands over my midriff. “What do you see for your own future?”

  I caught his hand before it went any lower. If he started that, I’d lose every coherent thought. “I can’t see my own future clearly, Duncan,” I said. “I’ve never been able to.”

  Duncan raised up on an elbow and peered down at me. “You’re afraid.”

  Normally I’d take a swipe at anyone who would have said that, but he was right. I was afraid and I truly didn’t want to hurt him. I cleared my throat and tried to be honest. “If I knew what my heart was telling me, I wouldn’t be so afraid.”

  Duncan stared down at me for a long moment. “Okay,” he said, and dropped a sweet kiss on my mouth. He eased back. “Let’s get something t
o eat and simply enjoy the evening.”

  My relief that he was dropping the topic was so huge that it was almost embarrassing. “Okay,” I said.

  “Why don’t I run you a bath, and I’ll order us some dinner?”

  I sat up slowly. “That’d be nice.”

  He patted my thigh. “Wait right here,” he said, and hopped up to start the water in the bathroom.

  I scowled after him and wondered what he was up to.

  For the rest of the week Duncan showed up at the bungalow shortly after I arrived home from work. On Wednesday he brought over a bottle of wine and a couple of sub sandwiches. We’d sat at the little second hand café table and chairs I had on the back porch and ate dinner outside. On Thursday I made meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and he cheerfully offered to clean up since I had cooked dinner. Afterwards he proceeded to show me his appreciation for my meatloaf—a favorite dish of his apparently—by ripping my clothes off, and then in Ivy’s words: he yanked my hair back and ravaged me like a lusty pirate.

  In the kitchen.

  I made a mental note to make meatloaf more often.

  On Friday, he swung by, picked me up, and took me out for tacos. When we were done he took me to an art and crafts store and handed me a coupon for forty percent off Halloween décor. I managed to get a few sets of orange lights to trim the bungalow porch, a decorated wreath, some floral picks, and a silk fall garland of leaves—all at a price I could afford.

  Duncan bought a life size plastic skeleton and a battery operated grinning foam pumpkin that lit up, and a timer for the outdoor lights while I shopped—belated birthday gifts I was told. Since they were so goofy and fun, I accepted his gifts without an argument.

  We went back to the bungalow and decorated the front porch together. The lights went up quickly as the Greenes had left permanent hooks up along the porch from their holiday lights. I plugged the lights in and set them up on the timer for dusk to dawn. I hung the Halloween wreath on the front door, while Duncan arranged the skeleton on the painted bench. We attached it to the bench with zip ties so it appeared that the skeleton was sitting with his arm draped over the bench.