Witch's Mystic Woods

by Marsha A. Moore

  “Yes.” She removed her coat’s hood. The cloth’s friction, along with the dry, heated inside air, caused her golden hair to float like a halo around her face. The overhead pendulum lamp’s light made her look like a goddess surrounded by an aura. “With more ice on the way, they’re probably here waiting it out.”

  “So why are you in town today?” Reid asked.

  “With no power in the shop, I had time to gather that yew branch I needed. While here, I thought I’d pick up some hot food.” She perused the menu.

  He opened his, but the way her hair shined, almost as if lit from within, held him captive. He couldn’t let her see him staring and buried his face in the menu. Not to decide what to order since he ate here often enough to know his favorites. Rather, he needed to refocus on the reason for this lunch—business, short and sweet.

  The waitress returned with their drinks, then whipped out a pad and pen. “Ready to order?”

  Larena replied, “I’ll have a bowl of baked potato soup. I’d also like to place a take-out order to be ready when we leave. Make that one bowl of the same soup, another of tomato, and a hot panini turkey sandwich. All on my bill.”

  At her last statement, Reid’s neck muscles twitched. “I’ll have the ham and provolone, hot on a Kaiser roll, with fries.” He made eye contact with Larena, to be sure she noted his thoughtfulness. “And I’ll be taking care of her order.”

  “Yes, sir.” The waitress collected their menus as Larena glared at him, her eyes hard and flinty. She’d turned back into a scary, unreadable witch. What had he done?

  She leaned forward, her words sharp. “I have no intention of letting you to pay for my meal, or being obligated to you in any way.”

  He briefly held up his palms. “Fine with me. Just trying to be polite since I asked you to—”

  “No need for you to start being polite now,” she snapped, her chin lifted. “You and your brother Ben have caused enough problems.”

  “What have I done?” He tried to moderate the sharp tone of his reply. “Other than bring you candy and flowers and ask you to have a meal?” Ben. What fool things had his brother done that were going to ruin it for them both?

  “Okay. But what about your brother? Don’t you two work together?”

  Reid squirmed in his seat. He’d intended to hold his cards close and manipulate Larena into doing the talking, providing information that would give him the advantage. He didn’t want to reveal particulars of how their father had set up the deal between his sons. However, there seemed no other way to win her confidence. “Not on your case. I have no idea what Ben’s done.”

  She squeezed her brows together. “Really?”

  “Really.” He let out a slow breath. “In fact, we’re competing.”

  “On what? The one who gets me to sign the contract?” she blurted.

  He lifted one corner of his mouth in a guilty smile and gave a nod.

  “You expect me to believe that?” She turned toward the serving area and scooted along the bench seat, coat and purse in hand.

  “Wait.” He touched her hand on the table’s edge before she yanked it free. “Don’t go. I swear it’s the truth. I have no idea what Ben’s done to you, but I apologize for him. If you’ll tell me what happened, I’ll report it to our father, the head of Peterson Corp.”

  Sitting sideways on the seat, she looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes still spewing venom. “He’s working with another witch from the coven, Sibeal Soot. Together, they put a hex on my strongest magic, what I use to enchant wood. Without it, I can’t earn a living. I was already behind on bills. I need to take Mom to the doctor and don’t know whether they’ll let her keep the appointment if we haven’t paid what’s past due.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry and can see why you’re upset.”

  “Apparently, Ben and Sibeal think if I’m desperate enough for money, I’ll sign that damned contract.”

  “Coercion is wrong. And illegal.” Reid struggled to contain his reaction to those few words. How could his brother be a part of that heinous act? They’d been raised with a strong sense of right and wrong. Lloyd made sure of it and didn’t hesitate to spare the belt a time or two. Clearly Ben had changed and not for the good. Ben’s wife Melissa saw it, too. But what was the cause?

  “Big deal,” Larena scoffed. “Wrongdoing has to first be reported to our Coven Council, which then involves the sheriff if need be. Sibeal is on that Council.”

  “Let me talk to Dad. He’s strict and keeps his business above board.” Reid thought of Lloyd’s recent sharp reaction to the idea of Reid taking Larena out for a meal with the intention of swaying her mind. That paled in comparison to what his brother had done. Would Lloyd take Ben out of the contest? Reid rubbed hair lifted along the nape of his neck. Would their father suspend Ben from Peterson Corp.? If so, Reid would be expected to take on the extra workload and be unable to fulfill his commitment with Goldman Sachs. However, with two small grandchildren dependent upon Ben, maybe their father would look the other way. That’d be a first. Lloyd was tough as an old alligator. Reid had to get to Ben first and try to set things right, or his own future would be ruined.

  Larena adjusted her seat to face him and gave a reluctant but genuine smile. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Encouraged by her open expression, Reid’s business strategy became clear—catching more flies with honey. Empathy and distancing himself from Ben could only help Reid’s cause. “Can you get your magic back?”

  She sighed. “I hope so. There are a few things I’ll try.”

  “I’d offer to help, but magic’s not really my thing.” He chanced a supportive grin.

  She chuckled without a reply since the waitress arrived with their orders.

  The conversation took a necessary change as they ate and remarked about their meals.

  Reid capitalized on the amicable tone. “I’d like to know what I could change or add to the Kilfoyle/Peterson offer that would make it worthwhile for you.” Clutching his warm mug, he sipped the brew, prepared to let Larena talk for as long as she needed. Showing compassion as an active listener was always his best tactic to win over a new client or keep old ones on board. Truth was, he’d learned that from Lloyd and not Wharton.

  She twisted her mouth to one side, the fullness of her pink lips making him temporarily forget his coffee. “There is nothing you can offer. I have no intention of selling. My grandpa built the family business from nothing. I plan to continue working as a tree mystic, like him and my dad.”

  He nodded to emphasize his attentiveness. If he asked questions, maybe she’d start to believe he cared. “Is the store doing well?”

  “Um, profit?” Her face flushed and she fidgeted with the spoon on her cup’s saucer. “It’s doing okay. I’m working on ways to expand. What’s more important is to keep the family name and our unique kind of magic alive.”

  “Upholding a family name is important. I spent the last five years doing just that.” A white lie couldn’t hurt for the purpose of working a client. But those words had slipped off his tongue so easily, with a strange ring of truth about them. During all those years of personal sacrifice to honor his father’s wishes, Reid dreamed of the Wall Street job he’d wanted during college. With that job in hand, did reflecting back make him sentimental about his own family business? Or did Larena understand something he didn’t? Get it together. You’ve got the future you always wanted. Don’t screw up now. He slammed the door shut on sentimentality.

  “It’s not that I mind opening up space to benefit the coven community. I can see we’re located in a good spot so near to town, but I’m not willing to destroy what Grandpa and Dad worked so hard to build.”

  “Perhaps if Lockwoods’ gets the largest square footage in the new mall?” He offered an elegant negotiable, knowing well that would already be the case since her furniture would take considerable space.

  She crossed her arms, a defensive posture. “At the least, I want to keep our store a
s it is now, not downsize. I’ve dreamed of expanding, so my grandpa’s proud of me.”

  Reid tilted his head. He leaned close and whispered, “The way you said that, ‘so your Grandpa’s proud,’ sounded um, odd. I know he’s not living, but is he still around, you know, by magic?”

  She laughed. “Of course, he is. He was a talented witch and studied to advance his craft. That way, his soul became empowered and can still interact with the living. He hangs out in the row of ironwood trees he planted when he first bought the property.”

  Reid couldn’t keep his eyes from popping. She lived a fascinating and exciting life, yet grounded in a strong sense of family.

  The waitress returned carrying a coffee carafe in one hand and a portable phone in the other. “Are you Larena Lockwood?”

  “Yes, I am.” Larena’s face blanched. In her flitting gaze, Reid read concerns.

  “Call from a woman named Betty needin’ you.” The waitress passed the phone and offered to top off Reid’s mug, which he declined.

  As Larena listened, her entire countenance shifted from the relaxed, beautiful girl he’d been talking with to a woman who appeared years older. Lines etched her forehead and shadows dug under her narrowed eyes. Her shoulders hunched, weighed by whatever she heard.

  She hung up, set the phone down, collected her things, and stood. “I have to go. Mom’s not well. Betty called an ambulance.”

  “Don’t worry about paying. I’ll get it.” Reid tossed a fistful of cash on the table, enough to cover their meals and Larena’s extra order. Stuffing the wallet into his pocket, he headed after her.

  Halfway to the door, Larena set her purse on an empty table and rummaged inside as the waitress handed her a sack.

  “I already got it.” Reid picked up the bag. “I’ll drive you home if you need help.”

  “You don’t get it; I’m not going to owe you anything.” She thrust thirty dollars at him, snatched the take-out order, and scurried outside.

  “I left enough for the meal and tip on the table,” Reid said to the waitress as he hurried after Larena.

  Without thinking about the consequences of his actions, he supported her elbow, and together they moved faster over the ice. Fresh sleet pummeled them in the parking lot. The storm had resumed.

  “I can drive you or follow you home,” he offered.

  “No obligations.” She separated from him and walked alone the last thirty feet to her van.

  Disregarding her statement, he strode to his truck and grabbed the door handle in the nick of time to keep from falling. With windshield wipers snagging on a bumpy fresh coating of ice, he crept the truck after her van.

  A mix of sleet and snow impaired his vision, but as soon as the road straightened, he couldn’t mistake the red flashing signal of an ambulance parked outside the Lockwoods’ house.

  Chapter Fourteen: Incongruity

  Larena maneuvered her van around the ambulance parked close to the front door and pulled in beside Betty’s sedan. Mentally cursing the ice, she scurried as fast as the slippery conditions would allow, arms spread wide to help her balance. The instant she swung open the back door, she glimpsed Reid’s black Silverado stop next to her van. Why did she feel relief to see him, as if he’d caught her from falling once again? He’d been kind. No. His kindness has an agenda. She blew out a heavy breath, wanting to release the gratitude that slipped into her heart. She didn’t need an obligation to him on top of her already complicated life.

  She bounded through the house to where a pair of EMTs, a lanky man and a big-boned woman, lifted Mom onto a gurney.

  The moment they completed the transfer, Larena crowded to her mother’s side. Conveying as much security and support as a raging lioness protecting her pack, she took hold of Mom’s hand and held her gaze. “I’m here, Mom. Everything will be okay.” Larena tried and failed to convince herself that was true. Maintaining eye contact with her mother, she asked the others, “What happened?”

  “Seems she had a fall and bumped her head,” the male attendant said with an easy manner, which Larena hoped would calm her mother. He covered her in two white hospital blankets and signaled to his partner. “We’ll get her checked out. Let’s take the steps. That ramp looked slick.”

  Teary eyed, Betty wrapped an arm around Larena’s shoulder and guided her out of the way of the EMTs who wheeled Mom toward the open front door. “This is my fault. She fell sideways over the bed rail when I’d just stepped out to get a lap robe. If I hadn’t had the head raised so high.”

  “It’s okay.” Larena patted the hand Betty had rested on Larena’s shoulder, then addressed the female attendant. “Which hospital?”

  “Bloomington General. With these roads, that’d be the safest to get to, even though it’s farther. Will you be riding in the ambulance?”

  Larena glanced at Betty, whose swollen tear-streaked face rendered her unable to drive. “No. I’ll follow you. I’ll be in the long white Econoline van with Lockwoods’ Antiques on the side.”

  The tall woman nodded as they lifted the gurney’s wheels over the threshold and steps.

  Reid stood at the side of the open cement stairs and steadied the EMTs as each descended.

  Larena locked the front door and herded Betty, who had already put on her coat, through the back to secure that entry. Seconds seemed like minutes. Although it took ages before both of them were settled in the van, the ambulance squad spent considerably more time securing Mom before driving out on the bad roads.

  “There they go,” Betty announced, as if trying to help however she could. Her advice was unnecessary; in Larena’s hypervigilant state she’d zeroed in on the ambulance and could already detect the driver’s aura.

  With her blood pumping like a river after spring thaw, Larena barely felt her hands on the wheel or her foot depressing the accelerator. Every shred of her concentration fixed on the ambulance and the life force of her mother inside, willing her to hold on, not panic and make any injury worse.

  Larena made sure of her grip and clamped so tight on the wheel her knuckles grew white. At least the salt trucks had already passed over the highway toward Bloomington. The wet roads made for better driving than those glistening with ice.

  She choked back a gasp when she spied Reid’s Silverado in her side mirror. Did he plan on joining them at the hospital? How dare he play on Mom’s condition to gain favor for his damned deal. I can’t handle that worry right now. She changed her focus to the taillights of the ambulance in front of her. Only Mom mattered, nothing more.

  “At least the roads are better here.” Betty fidgeted and wrung her hands. “I’m dreadful sorry. I shouldn’t have left her like that. What with the power out, she must’ve been unsettled and moved around.”

  “It’s okay. We can’t protect her from everything.”

  Betty wouldn’t be comforted, her voice rising to a tinny wail. “I had them bed pillows close up to her sides. I thought that’d be enough.”

  “I didn’t get a close look at her head. What did she hit?” Larena’s own words sounded flat and mechanical while she stared at the hypnotic red flashing light ahead.

  “She must’ve collided with the buffet corner as she tumbled over the rail. When I found her, poor soul, her entire torso was danglin’ and slidin’ down. She didn’t flail or cry out, which worried me even more. Must’ve blacked out. At least I stopped her from hittin’ the floor.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Larena said. “She might have some broken bones if not.”

  “Once I got her upright and she came to, she wouldn’t stop rubbin’ the side of her head. And she couldn’t form sentences, only random words. Her eyes looked odd, flickerin’, so I decided to call the ambulance.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “She might’ve had a concussion or broke something in her arm. I sure hope nothin’ serious is wrong.” Betty tortured the straps of her handbag.

  Larena’s shaking nerves barely kept pace with the present moment. She couldn’t
deal with Betty’s speculation and snapped on the radio to block further conversation.

  One jingling Christmas song blended into the next until at last they reached the hospital emergency entrance. Larena parked in the lot and Reid pulled in alongside.

  Her patience spent, Larena hustled inside, leaving him to help Betty. At the desk, Larena succinctly reported details and handed over Mom’s insurance information. Fueled by adrenaline, Larena reached new levels of efficiency. If only her actions could speed up the cumbersome red tape of hospital care to determine and hopefully fix whatever had happened to her mother.

  Reid and Betty milled around in the waiting area until Larena joined them and they all took seats.

  During the next three hours, despite being aware of every minute ticking past on the room’s clock, Larena had no idea what anyone said or did. The soft blues and greens of the modern waiting area’s decor, likely intended to be soothing, had anything but that effect. Guilt chased her. She’d brought this suffering onto her mother by not following Grandpa’s advice to keep her heart soft, thoughts altruistic. In response, the nemeton took her mother’s health.

  When her mother’s regular neurologist, Dr. Thompson, accompanied by another doctor, did come out to address her, she flinched and became acutely aware of stiffness settled into her neck and shoulders.

  “Miss Lockwood.” Dr. Thompson extended his hand. Unlike in his office, he wore a long white coat over his usual blue button-down shirt and gray slacks, which made him seem more formal, less human. The lab coat disguised his posture and breathing, signs she relied upon for what words couldn’t convey. He gestured to the tall, blonde man at his side. “This is Dr. Sanborn, the attending ER physician.”

  Larena clutched her chair’s armrests. “How is my mother?”

  While Dr. Sanborn remained standing, the neurologist perched on the open seat beside her. Betty leaned in from the other side, and Reid rose from a chair across the aisle. The doctor cleared his throat and surveyed the other two. “Your mother has suffered either a series of mini-strokes or a minor stroke. You reported the care aide said your mother blacked out and that when she revived, her pupils tracked rapidly. Those symptoms are in line with our test findings. Blood flow to her brain was temporarily cut off.