Cloudy with a Chance of Witchcraft: A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Romance Novel

by Roth, Mandy M.

  She and I had been close all my life. I was her only grandchild, and my parents already had a life they were happy with in Connecticut. They had no want or desire to move back to South Carolina. They’d been supportive of my grandmother’s decision to leave me her home in Grimm Cove.

  I’d had guilt since I’d learned about it at the reading of her will.

  She’d gone to live with my parents nearly twenty years back, when my grandfather had passed away, but had refused to let the house be sold. Apparently, generations of my grandfather’s family had lived in the home, and she’d promised him that tradition would continue.

  My father had an odd relationship with his mother and father. He often told me their ways were old and dated and that they had a lot of the South in them—whatever that meant. I just saw them as sweet and loving individuals. Slightly superstitious and eccentric, yes, but that was all.

  And despite my parents’ attempts to put distance between themselves and their Southern upbringing, they never denied me having a touch of the same life, and I was grateful.

  I could still remember spending summers with my grandparents in Grimm Cove, at their home, playing in the woods or heading down the trails that led to Cooper River. Not that there was any shortage of water or woods options surrounding Grimm Cove.

  It was my grandmother who had instilled a love of gardening in me and who had taught me to make soaps, lotions, and other home remedies. When I’d gone off to college, my summers had been spent interning, and I’d been unable to visit Grimm Cove for the same length of time as I had before. My trips had only been a couple of weeks versus an entire summer.

  That was one of my biggest regrets—not spending more time with my grandfather, who my son was named after, before he’d died.

  I hadn’t made that same mistake with my grandmother. Four times a year the kids and I had flown to my parents’ home to spend time with them. The twins would then spend part of their summers with my parents. It had given the twins time with my grandmother before she’d passed away and assured they spent time with my parents as well.

  When Grandma passed two years ago, my daughter had taken her death just as hard as I had. The two had been incredibly close.

  That was when I’d also learned of the home in Grimm Cove being left to me. I’d honestly thought it had been sold after my grandfather passed. I was surprised to find out it hadn’t and that she’d left it to me.

  I kept meaning to find time to go to Grimm Cove and check on the property, but the days got away from me.

  If Thomas had his way, I’d be visiting Grimm Cove very soon.

  I still couldn’t believe he thought I’d hand over my home without a protest. He really didn’t know me at all.

  “No,” I said firmly, having heard very little of what he’d continued droning on about at the table.

  “What?” he asked, seeming taken aback by my response.

  “No. We won’t come to an arrangement on buying me out of my half of the house. I want the house. If you want out of the marriage so badly, go. But you’re not taking my home.”

  I was proud of the courage and resolve I showed in the face of what had been thrown at me.

  He gave me a sympathetic look that said he felt sorry for me and my simple-minded ways—typical Thomas. “Poppy, we both know you can’t afford the house on your own. You’re nearly forty and your business, as you want me to call it, makes pennies. Plus, it’s not as if you come from money. Sure, your parents and family have done decently for themselves and live comfortable lives, but they’re no Davieses.”

  There it was again.

  The fact he was a Davies and I was merely a Proctor. My family wasn’t large, with loads of old money to stand behind. No. My family’s claim to fame was that my distant ancestors, on my father’s side, were part of the Salem witch trials. All I knew was that a chunk of the family tree had made their way to South Carolina in hopes of leaving their tragic past behind them in Salem. Not exactly something that bought a lot of clout in the circles that Thomas and his family ran in.

  They’d been against him being with me from day one.

  I was beneath them.

  The free-spirited girl who played in the dirt for a living. The girl whose parents lived in a section of Connecticut that wasn’t quite as expensive as the rest. Which was how I’d come to meet Thomas (whose family was from California) to begin with. We’d both attended Yale and met my junior year. I’d gone on scholarships, where he had not. I’d focused my studies on botany and plant sciences, along with natural medicines. I’d thought I’d go on to get a medical degree, specializing in alternative medicines, but that hadn’t been in the cards for me.

  Not that a medical degree would have helped the Davies family accept me any more than they did.

  Thomas’s mother had wanted him to marry well. Select a woman of her choosing, with a good pedigree, to wed and have a family with. Instead, he’d ended up with me—the wild child, as she often called me under her breath.

  Someone who was more attuned with Mother Nature and the Earth than the high-society crowd she traveled with. I’d have thought she’d be more open to my alternative lifestyle choices, since she was from California, but no. She was anything but open-minded when we’d moved here to be closer to them (my husband’s decision).

  She’d tried dozens of times to get me to go to the salon with her and get the latest trendy hairstyle, or to wear expensive outfits. I’d refused, choosing instead to keep my natural, long dark hair. And I preferred bohemian fashion styles to the high-end fashion and heeled shoes she was always trying to talk me into. Don’t even get me started on jewelry.

  I made my own.

  She was horrified at the thought.

  There was a lot about me she didn’t care for. Evidently her son was finally on board with her views of me.

  It took me a moment to realize Thomas was still speaking. I’d drowned his voice out at some point.

  “Wouldn’t you rather take a lump sum of money and start over somewhere else? You used to tell me how much you loved your summers as a child with your grandparents in Cove something-or-other.”

  “Grimm,” I said. “Grimm Cove.”

  “Right. Don’t you want to start over there? Isn’t that where your little hillbilly soldier buddy is from?” he asked, still stuck on the topic of wanting the house.

  All I wanted to do at the moment was take my fork and jab him in the eye. Taking a lump sum payout wasn’t even at the forefront of my mind. Basically, inflicting a world of hurt on him took precedent.

  The pendant wasn’t doing anything in the way of grounding me. I seriously considered smearing it in the smashed parsley and then throwing it all at Thomas’s forehead.

  To add insult to injury, the jab he’d taken at my “little hillbilly soldier buddy” stung. I’d been open and honest with him about the one and only relationship I’d had prior to dating him.

  The guy, Brett Kasper—who was not a hillbilly—had been the sun, moon, and stars to me. I’d met him the summer I turned fifteen while I was in Grimm Cove. We’d hit it off instantly and had become fast friends—best friends, even. We stayed in contact during the months I was back in Connecticut by way of letters and weekly phone calls and talked endlessly about getting to spend time together over the summers. I’d thought things were perfect.

  I’d been wrong.

  Seemed a running theme in my relationships.

  But unlike Thomas, Brett hadn’t left me for another woman. He’d just simply left me. He’d run out on me after a night together my sophomore year of college, and he’d never looked back. The only thing I’d gotten from him was a letter saying that while he’d always love me, he couldn’t see me anymore, and not to reach out to him—to respect his wishes and move on with my life.

  So I had.

  Even though the relationship had been the type of first-love innocence that only came around once in a lifetime, it had been important to me. Very important. I’d been crushed when he’
d dumped me.

  Dana, who hadn’t ever met Brett in person, had offered to hunt him down and break his kneecaps. She was a true friend like that.

  I knew when she heard about what Thomas had done, she would probably forgo asking my permission and just hobble him.

  Oddly, I was fine with that.

  Two

  Poppy

  Dana Van Helsing was my loud-mouth opinionated friend who wasn’t known for taking anyone’s crap. And Thomas was shoveling a mountain of it right about now. If he kept going, I’d likely never be able to dig my way out.

  Dana had disliked Thomas from the day she’d met him our freshman year of college. She’d warned me then that he was the kind of guy who had been handed everything he’d ever wanted all his life. That he sneezed money, and if he didn’t get his way, he’d be difficult—a spoiled brat. She’d even told me that his family would forever be an issue—that they’d always try to drive a wedge between us.

  She’d been right on all accounts.

  But I’d been blinded by love, swept up in the whirlwind romance Thomas had provided. He’d seemed so caring at first. So attentive. So ready to clean up the mess Brett had left behind.

  Shortly after getting my four-year degree, I’d found out I was already three months pregnant. Thomas had shown his true colors for the first time then, telling me it wasn’t a good time for us to be starting a family.

  Dana and Marcy (my other college roommate and best friend) had formed what they liked to call a wall of estrogen-powered protection around me, letting him know I didn’t need a man in my life to raise my child. He was welcome to move on down the road.

  Thomas had proposed the following day. He’d told me that he loved me and couldn’t imagine spending a day away from me.

  My how things had changed.

  We were married within a month of his proposal, and he’d gone on to graduate school while I’d worked full time and raised our fraternal twins.

  It had been hard at first, while Thomas was in grad school and I was juggling two children along with work, but we’d managed. He’d eventually gotten hired on with a tech firm where he’d advanced through the ranks quickly. He’d then insisted I stay home with the children.

  I’d loved spending more time with the kids.

  Our life in California had been good.

  Very good, or so I’d thought.

  When the kids had started school, I’d gotten the idea to begin selling some of the lotions and soaps I always made from all-natural ingredients for friends and family. That had expanded into other areas for me as well, and before long, I had a nice little home business. I was proud of it. Of what I’d managed to do while still being a full-time mother. But he’d never understood my interests, often making snide comments about the money I made, since it was so little in comparison to what he brought in.

  Over the years, I’d developed something of a tough skin. But even my skin wasn’t thick enough for what he was dishing out tonight.

  “Where is this coming from?” I asked.

  “Where is what coming from?” he returned.

  “You never hinted at being unhappy before now,” I countered. “It was just a month or so ago that you were talking about wanting to possibly take a few weeks off so we could tour Europe together. You were so excited about it all.”

  “Things change,” he said.

  I exhaled slowly. “We could have gone to someone and discussed it. We still can.”

  He averted his gaze.

  I tensed. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

  He exhaled and fidgeted with his napkin. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough anyway. Yes. There is someone else.”

  For a moment, I thought for sure a Mack truck had come through the restaurant and run me right over. I couldn’t help but look down at my person to verify I’d not actually been struck by something.

  “How long?” I asked, squaring my shoulders, as I began to smooth at the napkin on my lap. The black dress I wore, which was about as close to one his mother would have selected as I could get, was long and flowing, yet hugged all my curves (which were more than I’d started with prior to birthing two children, but I was still considered fit). “How long have you been having an affair?”

  “Keep your voice down,” he said firmly, glancing around to see if anyone was looking in our direction.

  They weren’t.

  My gaze flickered in the direction I knew the restrooms to be, and I considered excusing myself if for no other reason than to push distance between myself and Thomas.

  There was a woman there, standing near a large potted plant and ornate wall sconce. Her deep red hair was piled high onto her head, and she had a huge streak of white running through the front section that looked to twist all the way up as well. She was dressed like she was a member of the waitstaff yet none of them paid her any mind.

  In fact, no one other than myself seemed to notice her there.

  She was a good forty to fifty feet from me, yet I could tell that her eyes were a vibrant teal. It wasn’t a color one normally found in nature, so it stuck out to me. That, and for a second, I could have sworn her eyes were iridescent.

  With a quick shake of my head, I blinked and then glanced in her direction once more only to find she wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere that I could see. It was as if she’d simply vanished into thin air.

  The waiter approached with a bottle of red wine in hand and a pleasant smile pressed to his face. He went to refill my glass, but Thomas put his hand out to block the move.

  I shocked myself by reaching out and pushing Thomas’s hand away.

  Dana would have been proud.

  I then held my glass up for the waiter. “Extra full please. Can you maybe just leave the bottle? I have a funny feeling I’m going to need to be drunk to continue with this evening.”

  He did as I asked, filling my glass to the brim, and then paused as if contemplating leaving the bottle. He winked at me. “How about I just check back in a few minutes?”

  I got the sense he didn’t want to leave me alone with Thomas. He didn’t look much older than his mid-twenties, but already he seemed to understand women better than my husband.

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  He walked off, but I noticed he’d not offered to fill Thomas’s glass. I was starting to really like that guy.

  Thomas cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Who is she?” I demanded.

  “You don’t know her,” he returned, as if that would make it better.

  My focus went to his plate of red snapper risotto. The more I stared at it, the more all the feelings I’d bottled up over the years came flooding back to me. “Thomas, where did you meet her, and how long has it been going on?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “It does to me.”

  He tugged at his shirt collar, attempting to loosen the blue silk tie our daughter had picked out for him for his last birthday. “Fine. You want details. Okay. I met her while I was in New York on business. It’s been going on nearly three weeks now. At first, I thought it was just a fling. But it evolved into something more. The lease on her apartment in New York is coming up, and I thought—”

  I narrowed my gaze on him as I put my hand around the stem of my wineglass. “You thought what? That you’d move her into my home?”

  “The house is in my name if you’ll recall.”

  I slid my finger over the rim of my glass, my temper rising more and more. Yet the angrier I became, the calmer I seemed to be. At least on the outside. On the inside, I was molten-hot lava. “I see. You’re throwing away twenty years of marriage for a woman you met three weeks ago and have already decided you want to carve out a new life with? Most men get a fast, sporty car when they hit middle age. Couldn’t you have gone that route instead of betraying me, us, like this?”

  “Poppy, I’m sorry, but you had to have known something was going on lately. I’ve barely been ho
me in weeks.”

  “I noticed, but you lied so eloquently that I didn’t think the worst,” I said, not backing down an inch.

  He stiffened. “I can’t explain it to you, Poppy. When I saw Marla at the hotel bar, I just… One thing led to another, and the next I knew we were back in my hotel room together.”

  I flinched but didn’t break down.

  “I don’t know how to make you understand the connection I feel with her. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I think about her morning, noon, and night,” he said as I clung to my tears, refusing to give them to him. “I’m obsessed with her. And to be honest, she’s not the first woman I’ve slept with while being married to you. There have been others. They didn’t mean anything to me. She does.”

  The bastard clearly didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d done. My tears wouldn’t make him see the light and change his mind. And truth be told, the more I sat there and thought about it all, the more I realized I didn’t want him to change his mind.

  More to the point, I didn’t want him.

  I didn’t want a man who could do such a thing to his wife. To his partner in life.

  I’d never trust him again.

  “I’m sorry to hurt you, but—”

  I cut him off. “Are you really? Because it doesn’t feel that way to me.”

  “I’ll admit that before I met Marla, I thought I had love for you. Yes, there were other women who I slept with, but like I said, they didn’t mean anything. And I was excited about taking a trip with you. But that all changed. She opened my eyes. She made me understand the resentment I felt toward you for taking my freedoms from me when we were young and tethering me down.”

  I snorted. “I’m sorry, but what? I seem to recall telling you I didn’t need you to marry me. I’d be fine on my own, pregnant or not. Or am I remembering it wrong?” I asked.

  “Poppy, I thought I wanted that. I thought I wanted you. But I ended up resenting you for taking away my options. But Marla, well, like I said, she opened my eyes.”