Rowan's Responsibility

by Terri Reid

  Cat nodded. “And they should be paunchy,” she added. “Not muscular.”

  “And they should be short and bald,” Rowan said.

  They watched him expertly put the Jeep into gear and pull it backwards out of the driveway.

  “And they shouldn’t be able to drive a stick-shift,” Rowan complained.

  Cat laughed. “He did that really well,” she replied, paused for a moment, and then added, “DNA.”

  “What?” Rowan asked, tearing her eyes off the red Jeep now speeding down the road.

  “He probably wanted the samples for DNA testing,” Cat said. “To see if he could link our line to any of the supposed heritage witch bloodlines in the world.”

  Rowan shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “So, what’s your real issue?” Cat asked.

  Leaning her tall, thin frame against a post, she crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “First, he accuses me of stealing his scar,” she began.

  “Stealing his scar?”

  Rowan shrugged. “When I healed him, I went throughout his entire body. I didn’t stop to see which ones were old and which were new,” she said. “So, I probably did heal a scar I shouldn’t have.”

  “How far back did you go?” Cat asked with a grin. “Is he going to discover he’s no longer circumcised?”

  Rowan laughed in spite of herself. “No,” she said, blushing slightly. “I didn’t go there. I didn’t go that far back. The scar must have been within the last year.”

  “Okay, so you stole his scar,” Cat said. “Then what?”

  “Then he apologized and thanked me. Then he complimented my cooking,” she listed. “And then, when I explained where he was and who we were, he went all academic.”

  “And you got your nose out of joint,” Cat said.

  Rowan straightened and turned to her sister. “I just sometimes get tired of it, you know,” she said. “Being an exhibit at a freak show. Having people interested in you because of what you are, not who you are. People…men…are all the same.”

  “Maybe they are,” Cat said. “But, to be fair. You really didn’t give Henry much time to process what you told him.”

  “For some reason, I thought he might be different,” she replied sadly.

  “Maybe you should give him a chance,” Cat suggested.

  Rowan stepped down from the porch and shook her head. “Sure. And since it looks like we’re going to have Henry around for a while,” she replied sadly, “what’s the worst he can do?”

  She walked away slowly towards the greenhouses, and Cat watched her with troubled eyes. “He could break your heart,” Cat whispered. Then her eyes changed for a moment as she felt the power course through her. “He will break your heart.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Agnes was pleasantly surprised by Henry’s ability to handle her Jeep. Other than having to remind him once to drive on the right side of the road, he handled the vehicle with an expert hand.

  “Land Rover?” she asked.

  He sent her an engaging grin as he shifted into third and turned onto the gravel road. “How did you guess?” he asked. “I have one at home.”

  “You seem very comfortable behind the wheel,” she replied. “Funny that a professor should be driving a Land Rover. I would think a Mini Coop would be more like it.”

  He grimaced and then laughed. “Actually, I was thinking that same thing about you,” he admitted. “Much too glamorous for a Jeep.”

  She smiled. “How lovely,” she said. “But really, a Jeep is more my style.”

  He nodded. “I understand that. A Land Rover is much more who I am than the title of professor,” he admitted. “Poking around in caves, forests and mountaintops trying to find things that go bump in the night was not a real career, according to my father. But, having a PhD in anthropology and archeology takes poking around to an acceptable level.”

  Sliding sideways in the seat, Agnes studied the man beside her. He was soft-spoken, but he wasn’t timid. He was educated, but he wasn’t soft. He was curious and open-minded.

  “What is it about poking around that interests you?” she finally asked.

  He was silent for a moment, and then he smiled, slightly embarrassed. “My mother believed in fairies,” he said. “She said that she saw one when she was a child. That it flitted around the garden at her country estate and then flew over to her and touched her nose before it soared away.”

  “What a wonderful experience,” Agnes said.

  Henry shook his head. “No one ever believed her,” he replied sadly. “Because they hadn’t seen it. Because there was no proof. Because it was only her word, they didn’t believe it.”

  “You believed her,” Agnes said with certainty. She suddenly could see the stalwart little boy defending his mother, taking her cause as his knight’s errand.

  He nodded. “I did,” he said. “I believed her. She had no reason to lie and all the reason in the world to deny the story.”

  “And so you began to poke,” Agnes surmised.

  He chuckled softly. “It about drove my father mad,” he admitted. “I was supposed to get a law degree and become a barrister. I was supposed to take my seat in the House of Lords.”

  “So, you are Lord Henry McDermott?” Agnes asked.

  Henry rolled his eyes. “Merely through an accident of birth,” he answered. “There is nothing special about me. I’m just Henry.”

  Agnes shook her head. “No, I think you’re wrong,” she said. “There’s nothing special about the title, however the man is quite an enigma.”

  Henry turned to her and grinned. “I quite like that. An enigma,” he said. “But, if you don’t mind me saying so, that is the proverbial pot calling the kettle black.”

  Henry slowed the Jeep and then pulled up to the place where he’d had the accident the night before. His motorcycle lay in a broken heap next to the ditch, and the trailer’s tow bar was bent and twisted. He shook his head and turned to Agnes. “I think we’re going to have to call the tow truck,” he said. “I just hope they’re not too far gone for repair.”

  Agnes slipped out of the Jeep and walked over to the motorcycle. “Nonsense,” she said. “These can be fixed up in a trice.”

  Lifting her arms up in the air, she closed her eyes and pictured the accident. She saw each point of impact the motorcycle and trailer took, saw how the force and energy of motion against matter created the damage.

  “The energy that bent and broke,

  Shattering glass and twisting spoke,

  Reverse the damage you conceived.

  As I ask, so mote it be.”

  To Henry’s astonishment, the motorcycle shivered, and then, like a movie played in reverse, recreated the accident backwards. The damage became undone before his eyes, and in a matter of moments, the motorcycle and the trailer stood before him, in perfect shape.

  “How did you…” he began.

  Agnes smiled and patted his cheek. “Physics,” she said. “Newton's second law of motion. Force equals mass times acceleration. I just reversed the force and the acceleration.”

  “But how?” Henry asked.

  Agnes walked back to the Jeep, climbed into the driver’s seat and then turned to Henry. “That, my dear boy, is magic.”

  Then she drove away, leaving Henry standing in the middle of the road shaking his head in wonder.

  Chapter Twenty

  Cat stood in front of the shelves in the General Store with a clipboard in hand, taking inventory and marking down the items she’d need Rowan to prepare for her. The poison ivy salve was always popular, but Cat knew that in the next few weeks, when the poison ivy and oak would really flourish in the woods, they would sell out the inventory they now had in two days’ time.

  “Getting ready for the crowds?”

  Cat stiffened immediately. Even after all these years, she still recognized the deep, male voice coming from behind her. She schooled her face to show disinterest and then turned to see the man she’d once loved. H
e was dressed in business clothes, a navy blue custom-made suit, white shirt, and navy and red silk tie. His dark black hair needed a trim, as it was curling over his shirt collar, and his olive skin was already showing signs of a summer tan. It was before noon, and he already looked like he needed a shave, but the dark stubble did nothing to detract from his appearance. She felt her body heat rise and got even angrier. She hated that he could still affect her.

  “Donovan,” she replied formally. “What a surprise. I’m sure Whitewater must be missing you.”

  “Was that a polite way of telling me to go back to where I came from, Cat?” he asked.

  Her expression cooled even further. “Is there something you need?”

  He glanced around the store, observing the half dozen customers shopping in the adjoining aisle, and stepped closer. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

  Cat stepped away. “I think we’ve said all we have to say to each other,” she replied with a pleasantly neutral tone. “Have a nice day.”

  She moved to walk around him, but he grasped her upper arm. “Cat, I’m not joking.”

  She stared at his hand around her arm and then met his eyes, her own eyes filled with rage. “You will remove your hand this instant,” she whispered, the rage palpable in her tone.

  “What? Are you going to turn me into a toad?” he whispered back, unmoved by her anger. “Remember, an harm it none.”

  “It could be said that turning you into a toad would be a benefit, both to the community at large and to your personality,” she said. Then she turned her gaze from his eyes down to his arm and smiled as his skin started to resemble the flesh of a garden toad.

  He immediately released her arm and stepped back, rubbing his arm until his flesh reappeared. “You’ve honed your craft,” he said easily.

  “One learns from one’s mistakes,” she replied pointedly.

  He shook his head, a slight curve to his lips. “We were never a mistake, Catalpa,” he said softly. “We were magic together.”

  “Isn’t it interesting how two people that experience the same event can walk away from it having totally different perspectives?” she replied evenly. “If you’ll excuse me, Donovan. I really have to go.”

  She started to walk down the aisle.

  “This isn’t about us,” he called after her. “It’s about what’s happening. It’s about your sisters.”

  She turned around quickly and glared at him. “You stay away from my sisters,” she said, her voice low and threatening. “Buck has already threatened my family today, and we sent him away. Is it your turn now?”

  “Buck was here?” he replied urgently. “What did he do? Did he hurt you?”

  No, Cat thought. I am not going to be touched by the concern in his voice. I know what he is and what he’s done.

  “He came in and threatened us,” she replied. “And made some disgusting suggestions about what he could do to me behind the store.”

  This time the rattling of the products on the shelves was not caused by Cat.

  “You break it, you buy it,” she said calmly, though her heart was pounding.

  Donovan stepped closer to her. “Did he touch you?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “No,” she whispered. “No, he didn’t. But you’re not fooling me again, Donovan. I know you’re part of this. I know you’re aware Buck came onto our property last night and threatened Rowan. We won’t be frightened off. Your group won’t win.”

  He shook his head. “Believe me. I didn’t know about last night,” he said softly. “It’s not me you have to worry about, Cat. But the others…”

  “I know,” she admitted. “Buck never had the power to shapeshift before. I’m assuming he was both the stag and the wolf.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t find out about it until after it happened,” he said. “I haven’t been a part of them for a long time. But…”

  “But things are changing,” she inserted.

  “The others know that time is close, and they have plans,” he said urgently.

  “What kind of plans?” she asked, fear filling her heart.

  Donovan glanced around at the crowded shop and shook his head. “Not here,” he said softly. “We need to meet.”

  “I don’t trust you,” she whispered back.

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The Jeep pulled up in front of the barn, and Hazel, dressed in overalls and a t-shirt, her hair bound up in a ponytail and threaded through her cap, walked out of the barn to meet her.

  “So, is the professor on his way?” she asked.

  Agnes slipped out of the car and walked over to Hazel. “Yes, he is,” she said. “But I have a very strong feeling that the cabin is not going to work out for him.”

  “Why not?” Hazel asked.

  Agnes smiled at her daughter. “Well, that totally depends on you,” she said.

  Hazel grinned. “I get to trash the cabin?” she asked. “Really trash it?”

  Agnes nodded. “As long as you can reverse the damages,” she said. “Yes. Really trash it. It’s the cabin at the end of Old Pine Road.”

  “Oh, well, that one’s not in great shape to begin with,” Hazel said.

  “I want Henry to have to stay with us,” Agnes said. “And remember…”

  “I know,” Hazel said, rolling her eyes. “An harm it none.”

  “Who are we not harming?” Rowan asked, walking over to the group as she patted her forehead with a red bandana and pushed her glasses back up her nose.

  “Henry. Well actually, Henry’s cabin,” Hazel said. “Mom has given me permission to trash it.”

  “Why?” Rowan asked, opening a bottle of water and taking a sip.

  “Henry needs to stay with us,” Agnes said, ready to debate her daughter.

  Rowan nodded. “I agree.”

  Agnes’s jaw dropped. “You agree?” she asked.

  “Me too,” Hazel added. “Henry needs our protection.”

  Rowan nodded. “Yeah, Buck came to the store today and said they knew about Henry and that he was the key.”

  “The key?” Agnes asked. “What’s that about?”

  The sisters exchanged glances and shrugged. “No idea,” Rowan said. “Maybe something he’s written can help us.”

  “Or maybe it’s the book he’s working on right now,” Hazel added. “Maybe he turned something up in his research.”

  “Either way, Henry should stay with us,” Rowan finished.

  “I agree. There’s something there,” Agnes said. “Something Henry has for us.”

  “Fine, that’s settled,” Rowan said. “But where is he going to stay?”

  “In the apartment over the barn,” Agnes replied.

  “There is no…” Rowan began.

  Agnes winked at Hazel.

  Hazel grinned. “Really?” she asked. “I get to make it?”

  “Right after you mess up the cabin,” Agnes said. “And make sure you keep a list of where you took the materials so we can send them a check to cover their missing inventory.”

  Rowan sighed and shook her head. “I’ll let Cat know.”

  She started to turn around, but her mother’s hand on her arm stopped her. “I’ll let Cat know,” Agnes said. “I need you to take the Gator to the far field, across from the cabin.”

  Rowan sighed. “Why me?” she asked. “Why is Henry suddenly my responsibility?”

  Hazel grinned. “Finders keepers,” she said with a happy shrug. “Now excuse me while I go trash a cabin. I’m thinking raccoons would be a good touch.”

  She closed her eyes and lifted her hands over her head. “This is going to be so much fun,” she giggled. Then her voice changed as it was filled with power.

  Home and hearth, brick and stone,

  Let’s redecorate Henry’s temporary home,

  A home where beasts live comfortably.

  As I say, so mote it be.

  With
a wide smile on her face, Hazel opened her eyes and looked at her sister. “He’s not going to want to stay there now,” she said. “So, give me about forty-five minutes to build the apartment.”

  Rowan shook her head, amazed at her sister’s skill. “Why forty-five minutes?” she teased. “You trashed his place in less than two.”

  “I want to grab a couple of the decorating magazines from the house,” she said. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right!”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The cabin was not as rustic as Henry had pictured in his mind. He pulled up in front of the building and shook his head. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t really classify it as a cabin. It was more like a mobile home on cinderblocks in the middle of a small, gravel parking lot adjacent to a wood. He turned off the bike and slid off the seat, still amazed at how good his body felt after his accident the night before.

  He walked over to the lockbox that was attached to a single post planted in the driveway and pushed in the numbers the owner had given him. The lock groaned slightly and then popped open a crack. Henry pulled the metal casing forward and then jumped back when several fairly angry spiders slipped out of their comfortable home, past the casing and down the side of the post.

  “Sorry,” Henry called after them. “Should have knocked first.”

  He peered inside the dark box, just to make sure they didn’t leave any relatives behind. Finally, through a maze of sticky webbing, he found the key. After brushing off the webbing and, he discovered, part of the spiders’ food storage, he stepped up on the rotted pallet that served as a front porch for his accommodations and stuck the key in the lock. The lock turned easily, and he pushed the door open.

  This time the scurrying inside was louder and much more surprising to both Henry and the occupants. A family of raccoons sat in the middle of what Henry assumed was the kitchen table. They stared at him, and he stared back at them, No one moved.

  “I, um, rented this place for the month,” he tried explaining to them. He glanced around the interior and saw that they’d done their own version of decorating with curtains torn down, cushions ripped up, cabinets pulled open and a large, gaping hole in the back wall. “I like what you’ve done to the place.”