She had to think about it for some time. “I can’t be sure… maybe a butterfly?” Suddenly, the memory was crisp and clear. She’d been at the playground, sitting on the bench. It was warm, and her mother towered above her. She’d caught a flash of color and turned to see a brilliant blue and yellow butterfly alighting on the corner of the bench, just for a moment before it flitted away.
Piper had to blink the memory away. “I’m sorry,” she said when she realized Mr. Dove had said something to her. “What was that?”
“Name a flower,” he said. “And then hum for me. One note, but any note will do. Whatever comes to mind.”
This was certainly building up to some sort of punchline. Part of Mr. Dove’s sense of showmanship, she imagined. “How about… daffodils,” she said. And when he gave an expectant raised eyebrow, she cleared her throat and hummed a single, steady note.
Mr. Dove listened, his eyes distant, and then gave a nod. “Perfect,” he muttered. “I have just the thing…”
With some amusement, Piper rocked William back and forth as she watched Mr. Dove search briefly, and then duck behind a display case. When he stood, he waved her over.
She pushed Riley’s stroller to the case, and parked it nearby as she looked over the small array of curious looking bracelets. Some were silver, other’s gold. There were simple bands with elaborate patterns etched into them, chains with charms hanging from them, and one in particular that stood apart.
It was made from worn, soft leather, an inch or so wide, with a simple metal clasp. Stitched to the leather were sea shells cast in silver, and in the very center a circular blue stone in a setting shaped like a curling wave.
Mr. Dove’s finger taped the bracelet. “Captivating, isn’t it?”
Piper looked up to see him smiling triumphantly. “It’s very pretty,” she said. “Familiar, almost.”
“You know,” Mr. Dove said, “every object I acquire has a story. Would you like to know the story of this bracelet?”
“Is it made up?” Piper asked.
He laughed, “Oh, no. You have my word, the story is as true as the day I heard it.” He put a hand over his heart.
Piper smiled again as Mr. Dove took the bracelet from the display and handed it to her. The leather was almost too soft to believe under her fingers.
“I acquired this particular piece during a visit to Scotland some years ago,” Mr. Dove said. “You see, there was once a young woman who lived in a village on the shores of Loch Tummel who was desperately beloved of a young man named Thomas Clacher, who was the son of a stone cutter. Now, our young Thomas went every day for thirteen days to the home of his young lass, and asked her hand in marriage. Each of thirteen times, however, she turned him down.
“Now, the reason for this young woman to turn down a handsome lad like Mr. Clacher—who was, by all accounts, possessed of a comely face and a virile stature by means of his long hours of labor working stone as he did—was that she didn’t fancy becoming the wife of a stone cutter, you see. So each of thirteen times she bid him go from her and find a different profession before she would be his wife.
“Each time he did so, Thomas Clacher returned to her with some trinket. He brought her a small wooden horse which he carved as a woodcarver, and a cloth of purest wool when he became a weaver, and a leather purse with the finest stitching when he became a tanner. For twelve days, he brought her twelve gifts in all as tokens of his love and his intention to make her the happiest wife that she could be. Each time, she cast his gift into Loch Tummel and bid him come back with some other trade to ply.”
He paused, and helped her to clasp the bracelet around her wrist. “On the thirteenth day,” he went on as Piper looked at the bracelet, and felt the weight of it on her arm, “he came to her with this very thing. And the lass was so enchanted by it, that she put it on her wrist and promised Thomas Clacher that she would marry him on the morrow.”
“And did she?” Piper asked, wondering if the story were even remotely true.
“Alas,” Mr. Dove said, “I regret that she did not. That evening, just as the sun set, the young woman went to the edge of Loch Tummel wearing her wedding gown, to look at herself with flowers in her hair and her beautiful clothes. And she chanced, then, to see a silver goblet in the water—one of the many gifts Thomas had brought to her. Now that she was taken with him at last, you see, all those old gifts became precious to her. But when she reached into the water to retrieve it, the goblet vanished—it was no more than an illusion.”
“Instead, she found herself bewitched by the dracae—water spirits who steal away such women to be nursemaids to their children in the depths of the rivers and lakes of the highlands.” He shook his head, and tapped the bracelet on her wrist. “Sadly, this was all that young Thomas Clacher found of her when he arrived in his finest clothes to marry her.”
The story made Piper’s skin crawl, and she nearly took the bracelet off. Then again… it was just a story. And the bracelet did suit her. It fit perfectly, for one thing. The way the blue stone caught the light outside made it even more beautiful, and it had a strange glimmering quality to it—almost like light reflected from the deep blue water of the sea.
“What do you think?” Mr. Dove said, perhaps a touch smug.
Piper bit her lip, and finally began to take it off. “I can’t really afford to buy something like this. It must be expensive.”
Mr. Doves cool touch stopped her. “Consider it a gift.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she shook her head slowly. “I can’t possibly, it’s too—”
“I have no shortage of such things,” Mr. Dove said, spreading his arms wide to encompass the whole place. “I assure you, I will not be left wanting. It suits you—and who knows? Perhaps it will bring you the same luck it brought the young woman of Loch Tummel.”
“Luck?” Piper balked. “She got dragged to the bottom of the lake.”
“Ah,” Mr. Dove said, smiling, “but her young man went to no end of trouble to please her, now didn’t he? Going to the lake at dusk was a well known danger. Her ill fortune arose from her vanity. You don’t strike me as the vain type, Mrs. Spencer. The moral of the story is to hold precious all the gifts given by our loved ones. You never know when those gifts will gain significance.”
She bit her lip. The bracelet did look beautiful, and it felt comfortable on her, as if it had been hers for years. “I suppose,” she said, “it would be rude to turn it down. Thank you. I’m afraid I don’t have anything to give in return.”
“One never does know,” Mr. Dove said. “If you find some curiosity in your travels, think of me.”
Riley began to pound on the snack tray at the front of his stroller. “No, no, no!”
“And, that’s my timer going off,” Piper sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Dove. You have a beautiful little shop here. I still can’t believe you gave Mr. Baines such an incredible offer for it.”
“I wanted to honor his family business and the work he put into the place,” Mr. Dove said. “He was gracious to accept. You have yourself a wonderful day, Mrs. Spencer. I hope to see you again soon.”
He gave her a wink, and held the door open for her as she left.
Chapter 5
It took Piper all of five minutes to catch on that Bailey was bothered by something, and another five to get it out of her. The last thing Bailey wanted was to worry Piper—but she was a terrible liar.
She pulled a grimace as they sat at one of tables that dotted the bakery’s wide porch as Piper pressed her again. “Whatever it is,” Piper said with a note of irritation, “I can handle it. I’m a big girl, Bailey. Is it some new… you know…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “…magic thing?”
Bailey wasn’t sure yet, so she erred on the side of the mundane. Besides, that’s how it would read in the papers when it came out. “No, nothing like that,” she insisted. “It hasn’t been reported yet, so keep it quiet but… Delbert Finn apparently… shot… Robert Baines.” It was still painful
to say. There had been two murders in recent memory in Coven Grove. First Martha Tells, who was an old alumni and former coven member; and then some time later, professor Owen Turner when he came to investigate the caves.
Piper, of course, knew about those deaths. But this one was closer to home. She’d gone to High School with Robert just like Bailey had. “Oh… how awful. When did that happen?”
“Sometime this morning,” Bailey said. She sipped her tea and picked at her muffin. Neither of them had much of an appetite, it seemed. “The Sheriff’s Department was already there when Aiden and I arrived for work.”
“There where?” Piper asked, frowning, and then alarmed. “The Caves?”
Bailey nodded.
“That can’t be a coincidence,” Piper breathed. “What do you think happened? Some other kind of—”
“We don’t know yet,” Bailey said quickly. “It might not have had anything to do with faerie, or… anything like that.”
“Well Delbert Finn wouldn’t have just up and killed anyone,” Piper said.
Bailey didn’t want to have that argument again, even if Piper agreed with her. “All we can do right now is wait for the scene to clear and then… I don’t know, take a look around, see what we find. It’s probably nothing, though. Well… not nothing.” Bailey sighed, and rubbed her eyes. She was tired already, and it was barely past noon. “Anyway… enough of that. How have you been?”
Piper reluctantly took the change of subject. “I’ve been… resting, mostly. After all the madness a couple of weeks ago, and, you know, having a baby.”
It didn’t require telepathy to sense the tension there. Bailey gave her friend a moment longer to say what else was on her mind, and there turned out to be more there.
“I haven’t meant to become a hermit,” Piper said. She scattered a few more snacks on Riley’s snack tray. “It’s just scary, you know?”
“I do,” Bailey said. “We’ve had some close calls, certainly—”
Piper snorted. “Way too close.”
Bailey leaned toward her friend, and reached out to put her hand on Piper’s. “I know it must be scary. But you can trust us, Pipes. I love you, and William, and Riley, and even Gavin. Avery and I both do, and we’ll protect you. I promise.”
For a moment, Piper watched her. A sad smile wrinkled her forehead. “I know you mean that,” she said, “but Bails… I don’t think that’s a promise you can keep.”
The fact was, even Bailey knew that was true. She could do her best, of course—but already faerie magic had touched Piper’s son once, and they hadn’t seen it coming. Would she see it coming next time?
Piper withdrew her hand, but only to soothe William has he began to squirm against her. She cooed at him, and made a small adjustment under the wrap, probably to help him feed. After she had him situated, she looked out from the porch at the town. “I might…” she started, and then swallowed. “I’m thinking about talking to Gavin. About moving.”
On some level, Bailey had known this was coming. Avery had, as well. One of his ‘gut feelings.’ She wanted to urge Piper to stay, but that was selfish. She could have told her that if they failed here it might not matter where Piper lived. But that would only frighten her further. “I understand,” she said instead. “I would miss you if you left.”
“I know,” Piper whispered.
“Where were you thinking? Up to Washington, near your brother?”
Piper shrugged. “Probably. It would depend on where Gavin could find work, but there’s a firm in Yakima that was recruiting drafters a little while back.”
“That’s something, I guess. Of course, Theresa will have a fit,” Bailey said, trying to smile and lighten the mood. “But at least she’d be far away, right?”
“God, I hadn’t thought of that,” Piper said, and did smile. “On second thought, this might be goodbye. Faeries I might be able to deal with—my mother in law should have driven me off years ago.” She brushed her hair behind her ear and rolled her eyes.
A flash of blue caught Bailey’s eye. “Is that new?” She asked, pointing to Piper’s bracelet.
Piper looked at it as though she’d forgotten she had it on. “This? Yeah, I got it over at Mr. Dove’s shop. It’s cute, isn’t it?”
“Gorgeous is the word,” Bailey said. She leaned in as Piper held it out for her to see. “Did he tell you a story about it?”
“Yes,” Piper said, and chuckled ruefully. “A creepy little fairy tale about a woman who gets dragged into a lake. Oh, and has a stalker boyfriend to boot.”
“Lovely,” Bailey said. “Hopefully better than the story he told Dad about the pen set he bought. Something about a poet who wrote his lady love so many love poems he ran out of ink and started using his own blood, until he wrote her the perfect poem and then died.”
“Are all his stories macabre like that?” Piper quieted Riley, who’d begun pounding his feet on the bottom of his snack tray. “Hush. Eat your crispies.”
“Pretty much,” Bailey said. Riley threw a handful of crispies, some kind of snack puff, out of his tray and onto the porch.
Then he scowled at Bailey. “Bay-dee wrong,” he announced. “Bay-dee wrong, Bay-dee wrong.”
Bailey raised an eyebrow and turned it sympathetically on Piper. “They grow up so fast.”
“He is chock full of baby-pinions these days,” she sighed. “I knew the day would come, I just… sort of hoped it wouldn’t come so fast.”
“Any day now, he’ll be listening to music too loud, and screaming that no one understands him,” Bailey chuckled.
“Ah, the good old days.” Piper laughed a little, genuinely. “With any luck he’ll write bad poetry.”
“Except now he can do it in public, on Facebook, or whatever comes next.”
“I’d hate for him to miss out on Instagram and taking pictures of his food.”
They laughed at future-Riley’s expense, but the mood passed quicker than Bailey would have liked.
When Piper leaned down to give Riley some of her muffin, he screamed, and smacked her hand. It happened quickly, but it almost seemed like he was aiming for the bracelet.
Piper jerked her hand away, her face wrinkling instantly in anger. “Riley, no!” She snapped. “No hitting. Don’t hit Mommy!”
Bailey held her breath. Granted, she hadn’t seen Piper during a full day of motherhood—but as long as she had seen her around Riley, she’d never seen her bark something quite that loudly. Riley’s shocked reaction made her think that maybe he hadn’t, either.
His face froze after he flinched, and then very slowly twisted into a long precursor to an all out bawling fit which arrived moments later on the back of an impressively deep breath for a kid with lungs as small as his had to be. The sound he made was equally impressive.
Piper’s face turned pink, and she glanced around them before casting an apologetic look in Bailey’s direction. “This was only a matter of time,” she muttered. “I’m so sorry, lately he’s just impossible.”
Making any kind of judgment on her friend’s parenting style was out of the question both as a friend and as a woman with no children of her own, so Bailey kept her face impassive and said nothing. For a moment, however, Piper had been positively enraged. Thinking back, Bailey was pretty sure she’d not only not seen her shout like that at Riley—she hadn’t seen Piper get that angry at all. Maybe ever.
“Are you okay, Pipes?” She asked.
Piper slumped a little, readjusting William and expertly rearranging her shirt in the process. “It’s just stress,” she said. She touched her bracelet, her finger trailing over the smooth surface of the blue stone in the ocean setting.
“Being cooped up in the house with these two,” she went on, gingerly extracting William from the wrap and retrieving a plain white cloth from the diaper bag, “is probably not helping. Coming out was good.”
Riley was still wailing, so Bailey leaned toward him to give him a tickle and try to distract him.
�
�Best to let him cry it out,” Piper said. “He’ll get tired, and probably drift off.”
“Oh,” Bailey said, withdrawing. “Okay…”
That sat in relative silence—other than Riley’s crying—until finally Piper got a burp out of William and was able to tuck him back into her wrap. “Well,” she said, “it’s good to see you. I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch.” She scooted her chair away from the table, and Bailey realized she was calling an end to their outing.
“Good to see you, too,” Bailey said as she stood. She gave Piper a careful hug, and bent her neck to kiss baby William’s head. Then she squatted in front of the stroller to address Riley. “Hey, kiddo.”
Riley’s crying cut down to a series of sniffles as he peered at Bailey.
“You be good for your mom, okay?” Bailey told him, and put her finger out for him to grab.
Instead, he sniffled again, and choked off a sob. “Bay-dee wrong,” he told her.
Well, there was a reason they called them the terrible twos.
“I’ll try to do better,” Bailey told him, and mussed his hair before she stood. She smiled at Piper. “Maybe Avery and I could come over some time soon? We could cook dinner, bring a bottle of wine or two for after the kids go to sleep? It would be fun to just, you know…”
“Act like nothing’s wrong?” Piper suggested.
Bailey bit her lip, and shrugged. “I guess. Like old times. Before all of this. Before you go.”
Piper’s eyes fell, but she nodded. “That would be nice. Maybe sometime this week?”
“I’ll make it happen,” Bailey told her. “I promise.”
They traded kisses on one another’s cheeks, and Bailey helped Piper get the stroller down the porch stairs, and then watched her friend leave without looking back.
As she did, something moved in the bushes, among dried leaves in front of them—or so Bailey thought. When she looked, there was nothing. She rubbed her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t sleeping well.
Witching Your Life Away Page 4
