Michael softly rubbed my shoulder. “I don’t think it’s that bad. No stakes yet. He’s just curious. Apparently he told Cara he didn’t want her spending too much time with you until he was sure about—who you are.”
“Well, when he figures it out, maybe he can let me know,” I muttered. “Between how my parents are feeling about my recent actions and my guilt over Nell, I’m not sure if I’m the superhero or the villain anymore.”
“Hey.” Michael lifted my chin to look into my eyes. “You’re neither. You’re a beautiful girl with a good heart who tries her best to help others—and if they don’t want help, there’s nothing you can do about it. More importantly, you’re the one I love—my one and only. Never forget that.”
I needed that assurance when I returned to school the following week. Although I was happy to be with Michael, I was dreading the inevitable talk and questions—both what I would hear verbally and what I’d pick up from mind-buzz.
There were curious looks and I knew people were talking, but no one approached me directly. In French, Cara was happy to see me. She and Amber had visited me over the weekend, and she hadn’t said anything about her dad or his questions. A few of her thoughts went in that direction, but there was nothing concrete. Mostly she seemed to think he was overreacting.
I was dreading Chemistry most of all. I dawdled along the walkway, timing my arrival for the last possible minute before the bell rang and sliding into my seat just as Ms. Lacusta began her lecture.
Her eyes moved over me with only the slightest change in expression, but otherwise, she didn’t react. I kept my eyes down and took careful notes. Beside me, Liza shifted uncomfortably, and in front of us, Casey, now sitting by herself, didn’t even look my way. I couldn’t help feeling the same unease they were both experiencing, and I focused on not hearing their thoughts.
At the end of class, as we all put away our books, Liza half-turned in her seat so that she was facing me. Not meeting my eyes, she said quietly, “We had no idea what—what she was planning to do. I never—if I had known—“
In the same low tone, I replied, “I know. But you suspected. You had to have wondered what was going with Amber, why Nell suddenly wanted her in the group. And you didn’t do anything about that.” I stood slowly and my hands went unconsciously to the bandages still at my neck. “It could have ended much worse than it did.”
Liza nodded, and as Casey turned, their eyes met. The troubled expressions they wore were identical. I wasn’t worried about them; without Nell to act as ringleader, I had the sense that her former friends would leave me strictly alone.
I couldn’t say the same about Ms. Lacusta. Michael had heard through the town grapevine that she had been reprimanded by the administration for being too involved with a student, but that her job was not in jeopardy. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. In my mind, she bore a great deal of responsibility for Nell’s actions; even if she hadn’t introduced the idea of witchcraft to her, I had no doubt that Ms. Lacusta had encouraged Nell to push the envelope. Whether she knew it or not—and I had dark ideas about that—the teacher had played on Nell’s longing for a mother figure in order to manipulate the girl. Now Nell was paying, and Ms. Lacusta had received a figurative slap on the wrist. It wasn’t fair, and that frustrated me.
I also worried about how much Ms. Lacusta knew or suspected about me, and how long she would keep quiet. I had a sense that she would use the information if she had to. For the immediate future, though, I was fairly certain that she was going to maintain a low profile, at least until the whole Nell situation had died down.
The nursery had extended hours through the holiday season, and Michael offered to work later that night in exchange for some free time after school. It was a rare dreary day, with spotty showers, so we drove over to Lancer Park and sat in the car. I was just glad for some peace and quiet away from the inquisitive thoughts at school and the anxiety of my parents at home.
We held hands and gazed out at the lake, gray in the dim light. Michael’s eyes were half-closed as he leaned his head back against the seat. A small flesh colored tape still covered the wound on his cheek, and every time I saw it, a trace of the panic I’d felt when Nell had cut him surged through me.
“Do you ever wonder what it all means?”
I wasn’t surprised by his words, since I’d been picking up his brooding thoughts since we left school.
“Maybe you should be more specific about ‘it’,” I suggested. “You’ve been thinking about quite a few things. Do you mean everything that happened with Nell, with what goes on in King… or do you mean us?”
His hand tightened around mine, and he lifted our joined fingers to lightly stroke my cheek.
“I think I mean all of it. But not—I don’t mean that I have doubts about you and me. That’s the one thing that seems completely right, without question. I was just thinking about all the circumstances that put us here, together, in this time and place.”
I shifted in my seat and pulled my feet up to curl under me. “What brought this on?” I wondered.
“I don’t know. I guess some of it is my parents. They got talking the other night, about everything that had happened, and my dad said that maybe it wouldn’t hurt us to check out Reverend Pryce’s church. I thought my mom would freak out a little, but she actually said that he might be right.”
“Why are they thinking about church right now?”
“My dad said that after seeing some of the real evil that’s out there, the stuff that Nell was messing with, he thinks it wouldn’t hurt to find out what the good guys are up to. That’s how he put it. Maybe they’re looking for reassurance… don’t know. He sat with Cara’s dad for quite a while at the hospital the day everything went down. Mr. Pryce was talking about demonic spirits and all that. I guess he thought that Nell’s witchcraft involved that kind of thing.”
“So now that’s got you thinking, too.”
“Yeah, I guess. I was remembering you said maybe your gift was given to you for a reason, that you’re suppose to use it for the greater good. So you think that it came from God. And I thought about how we met. Could that really be a coincidence? Or were we meant to be together—were we brought together by some higher power—like God?”
I leaned my head against the seat, considering. We’d skirted around this conversation before, but Michael had never seemed so troubled by the possibilities.
“Are you feeling manipulated? Are you questioning... why we were brought together?”
“No!” He was emphatic. “No, I told you, I don’t have doubts about us.”
“I’m not suggesting that you do. I’m only saying that it wouldn’t be wrong for you to feel—to feel that you didn’t really have a say in this. If things work in your family the way you’ve told me—well, it’s occurred to me before now that eventually you might resent your lack of choice. And I would understand that.”
No longer leaning back, Michael fastened his incredulous gaze on me. “So you’re saying that if I told you now, today, that you’re right—that I feel like fate or God or whatever pushed me into this relationship—you’d be perfectly okay with that?”
“No!” This time it was my voice that rose several octaves, and tears threatened behind my eyes. “Of course I wouldn’t be. I would be—it would devastate me. But maybe the idea that you were with me under duress would be even worse.” I turned away toward my window, pulling my hand away from Michael’s and pressing my fingers against my eyes. Shaken, I couldn’t help but hear him quite clearly.
No. That’s not it. There’s no duress. It’s true that something powerful drew us together at first, but I wouldn’t change that—not for anything. To give this up—to not have her—it would be like someone taking away my ability to breathe. I couldn’t live.
“You lived before,” I mumbled, my voice muffled against my arms and my back still turned to him.
“But not well. Not like now.”
“You don’t know that.”
I wrapped my arms around my knees and leaned my forehead against the glass. The stiff bandages still on my neck poked up into my chin. He meant it, I was sure. Nothing in his thoughts rang false; if he was deceiving me, he was also lying to himself. But could he really be so certain?
I felt his hand sweep down my back, the lightest touch. I shivered and for a fleeting moment thought that nothing else mattered; I needed him. The whys and hows weren’t important. That he wanted me was the miracle of my life, and perhaps that was good enough.
But I knew it wasn’t true. I couldn’t keep him with me out of my own great need. I loved him too much to do that.
“What about you?” Michael interrupted my reverie. “What if you’re the one who really didn’t have a choice? I never gave you a chance to make up your own mind. I just swept you along, because I knew—I know—that I wanted only you. That I could love only you. But maybe you’re second-guessing that now.” He radiated uncertain misery, and my heart ached for his pain.
“I wasn’t ever unsure. I never felt like you forced me into anything. I was frightened, because it was all new. And I’m still scared now—I’m still afraid that you’re going to wish fate picked someone else for you—someone beautiful and smart and normal.”
Michael grasped me by my shoulders and gently pulled me across my seat, over the gearshift and onto his lap. My back was against the driver’s door, and my face was inches from his.
“You are so beautiful that more often than you know, I can’t take my eyes off you. I stop breathing each morning when I see you for the first time. You’re the most well-read, intelligent person I’ve ever met. And normal—who wants normal? What you can do, your gift, it’s part of who you are. It’s part of your compassion, your tender heart. It’s why you’re still mourning over Nell, even after she tried to kill us. You work so hard to keep from listening to people—it’s because you’re a good person, a kind person.
“Maybe it was fate or God who brought us together. If it was God, and He has a plan for us and for your abilities like you think, then I’m just grateful. Because if I didn’t have you in my life…” He swept his hands over my hair and carefully held me still. “If we didn’t have this, I couldn’t go on. You are as essential to me as air and water. Never think I didn’t have a choice. I did, and I chose you. Every day, every minute, for the rest of my life, I choose you.”
He traced my lips with his finger. “You don’t have to be frightened. You’re not alone. Trust me.”
“I do,” I murmured. “How could I not? You have the most open, honest mind, and I know you mean everything you say. But if you ever want to change that mind—”
“I won’t.” He kissed me then, packing into it all of the passion and emotion of our conversation. It was impossible to doubt him, impossible not to feel the depth and sincerity of all his words. His thoughts exploded into my head until I couldn’t separate mine from his, and I lost myself in the intimacy and intensity of the moment.
When he pulled himself away from me, it was with considerable regret. My arms were still entwined around his neck, trapped between the headrest and his body, and we were both trying to catch our breath.
I don’t want to stop. I could stay like this, right here with her, forever and never get tired of it…
My mouth was still close to his, and I smiled against his lips. “I think you might change your mind after your legs go numb.”
“Nope. I told you, there will be no mind changing here.”
“I think someone would miss us, eventually. And find us.”
Michael stroked my back. “Probably. We could lock the doors.”
I giggled. We didn’t often take time to be silly like this, just in love and talking nonsense. And after the intensity of our conversation, the levity was a welcome relief.
But even as I rested my head against his shoulder, smiling in the simple joy of being with him, a thought crossed my mind. It had been skirting my memory for a few days, refusing to stay down.
“Michael,” I murmured against his neck. “I was thinking about something.”
He brought my lips to his again and whispered, “Something like this?”
“No. But that was very nice, thanks. No, I was thinking about that first time in the woods, with Nell and Amber.”
He straightened a bit, shifting me slightly so that my head lay against his arm. “What about it?”
“What do you think happened to the knife?”
Michael didn’t ask me what I meant, and I knew that it had been troubling him, too.
“I don’t know. I told myself that she’d thrown it somewhere, but I don’t see how she could have done that without me seeing it. I was on top of her so fast.”
“Did you even see it in her hand that night?”
He hesitated, frowning again. “I think—I think I did. Just a flash of it. But then again, maybe I didn’t. It happened so quickly.”
We were both quiet, considering.
“You know, when she had me tied in the clearing, she made fire.” I spoke as evenly as I could. I hadn’t mentioned that to anyone before now.
“What do you mean? She lit a fire?”
“No, I mean there were rocks, then—I could feel this shot of power going out from her—you know, I was trying to stay really attuned to her mind then, trying to keep a step ahead of her. So when that power went out—it was like nothing I’d ever experienced. It knocked the breath out of me. And then there was fire.”
I could feel Michael’s thoughts, troubled and uncertain. “If she did somehow make that knife vanish… and manage to conjure fire from nothing, what does that mean?”
I shivered, even safe in the circle of Michael’s arms. This was the disturbing possibility that had been eating at me for days.
“I guess… I guess it means there really is a lot more to the world than meets the eye. And going back to what you said earlier… maybe it means that we were supposed to be here, in this time and place, to fight what Nell was doing.”
Michael’s arms tightened around me. “If that’s the price we pay for having each other—then it’s worth it. As long as it’s over. As long as you’re safe. As long as we’re together.”
We clung to each other, a tiny island of serenity amidst the storm that blew around us.
Thanksgiving was late that year, at the very end of November. The news reports from Wisconsin showed several inches of snow and temperatures hovering around the freezing mark.
In Florida, the sun was shining, light breezes stirred the palm tree branches, and the grass was green.
We were celebrating the day with the Sawyer family out at the nursery. This was new territory for my family; since my grandmother had passed away when I was ten, our holidays had been quiet affairs involving just the three of us. Occasionally one of my father’s co-workers who was far from home or single would join us, but I had always thought wistfully of the large family gatherings I’d seen on television shows or read about in books.
Michael’s paternal grandparents had driven down from the Panhandle for the holiday, and I had met them the day before. They reminded me of Luke with their easy-going ways and warm embraces. Both insisted that I call them Gram and Poppy, and I loved feeling so much a part of the family.
On Thanksgiving Day, Michael arrived at our front door promptly at noon to collect me. My parents would follow later in the afternoon, and my mother was in the kitchen baking pies for dessert.
I had dressed carefully that morning, trying on and discarding several outfits before settling on a simple brown cotton skirt and a loose weave sweater in a coordinating tan. I blew my hair dry until it was straight and then pulled part of it back with a pretty clip.
My time and attention were rewarded by the light of admiration in Michael’s eyes when I met him at the front door. I grabbed my bag and shouted a good-bye to my parents.
“What’s the rush? Dinner isn’t until four. I was go
ing to wish your parents a happy Thanksgiving,” Michael protested as I pulled him by the hand down the front walk.
“You can do it when they come out to the nursery. I didn’t want to get held up with all the small talk.”
His long-suffering sigh was mostly in jest, and I pointedly ignored the teasing thoughts I could hear coming from him as he helped me into the car.
“I put up the top, since I figured you wouldn’t want to be wind-blown today,” he informed me as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
I glanced up at the roof in regret. “Yes, you’re probably right.” I really loved riding the country roads with the top down and the wind rushing through my hair. I had given up on learning to drive stick shift—and I hoped that Michael had given up on teaching me--but I was always a willing passenger in the Mustang. I brightened. “Maybe we could put the top down on the way home tonight.”
“Count on it.” Michael slid his hand around my neck and pulled me closer to him. My heartbeat accelerated as it always did when he was this near. My eyes slid halfway closed, but I didn’t feel the touch on my lips that I expected. Instead, Michael was looking down at my neck. He moved the hand that wasn’t around me to brush over the scars there. His eyes were troubled.
I laid my fingers against his cheek, turning his face toward mine. “Hey. What is it?” I asked softly.
“Nothing. I just… I don’t think about it all the time. But then I see these…” he traced one scar from below my chin down to my collarbone. “And it all comes back to me. How close I came to losing you.”
I grabbed his hand and held it in my own. “Stop. It’s over, and we’re both here. Nobody lost anyone.” Even as I said it, I felt a twinge of guilty regret, knowing it was untrue. Nell had lost all, again.
We sat there, both deep in thought. Michael pulled his hand from mine and framed my face with his hands.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m being silly. This is a happy day. A day to be thankful, especially knowing all that might have been.” He kissed me then, first a light brush of lips, then deeper, longer and more involved.
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