Witchin' USA
Page 28
“What’s this?” I was absurdly touched and a bit suspicious. “Are you going to feed me before they eat me?”
“Ha, ha.” Galen released my hand and flicked my ear. “You’re definitely a lot of work.”
I leaned over and picked through the picnic basket. “Sandwiches and potato salad. I was hoping for seafood … and you said we were having dinner on the beach.”
“We live on an island. There’s always seafood available. Also, this entire island is a beach, but I get what you’re saying. We’ll do that tomorrow, make a big deal out of it and everything.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m going out with you again tomorrow?”
Galen smirked. “Call it a hunch.”
I considered arguing with him, putting up a token fight for form’s sake, but I didn’t have the energy, and we both knew he was going to get his way. Still, that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Because you keep stumbling across information in a manner that hurts you and I want to fix that,” Galen replied. “The thing is, I can’t protect you from all of that. It’s going to happen, and I can’t possibly keep up with what you know.”
“But?”
“But there’s something here I know you don’t know about and I need you to see it before someone else accidentally tells you or you stumble across the truth yourself.” Galen wrapped his hands around my wrist and directed me toward a slot in the wall. “Come on.”
For some reason, the shift in his demeanor made me a bit nervous. He still seemed happy and full of life, but there was a darkness flitting around his eyes. I was almost afraid to see what he wanted to show me.
“Look through here.” Galen pulled back a sliding cover and revealed a window in the wall.
I balked. “What am I going to see?”
“Something you probably don’t want to see, but you need to know, so I’m making sure it happens under the right circumstances.” Galen leaned over and plucked a flower from the vase next to the wall. It was the same sort of flower he’d given me twenty minutes before. “Here.”
I took the flower, confused. “So these are stolen flowers, huh?”
Galen smirked. “They’re pretty, and they remind me of you.” He slipped his arm around my waist and positioned me so I was in front of him. “Look.”
I gave up fighting the effort and looked through the glass, taking a moment to let my eyes adjust and grimacing when I saw the lumbering zombies moving on the other side of the wall. “I’ve seen them before.”
“Yes, but you haven’t really looked.” Galen leaned down so his chin rested on my shoulder, his eyes busily scanning faces. Finally he found what he was looking for and pointed to the left. “There.”
I followed his finger, unsure what I was supposed to be looking at. My heart skipped a beat when a familiar face popped into view. At first I was sure I was mistaken. I shook my head to clear my vision and stared harder.
After a long time – what felt like forever – I remembered to breathe and let loose a horrified gasp. “That’s my mother!”
“I know.” Galen stroked the back of my head. “I’m so sorry.”
“But … .” I searched my memory. “She was cremated. My father spread her ashes in the Grand Canyon when we visited. I was ten. I remember.”
“I don’t know about that,” Galen said. “You’ll have to ask your father. I do know that your mother’s body was transported here. It was about seven years ago, not right after she died. That’s one of the reasons I always assumed she raised you. I thought she died at that time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either.” Galen’s arms were strong as they came around me. “I knew she was in here, and I also knew it was only a matter of time before you found out. I wanted to be the one to tell you, because … well, because it felt as if it should be my job.”
I didn’t know what to say. My tongue was tied and there was a very good possibility my mind was about to seize.
Galen pressed a kiss to my cheek, drawing me out of my stupor. “I’m really sorry.”
I let loose a shaky breath, my eyes never leaving my mother’s face. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do it.”
“No, but I can’t help but wonder if I should’ve told you sooner.”
“You told me now.” I patted the hand that rested on my midriff. “It’s okay.” I said the words, but I wasn’t sure I meant them. How could any of this be okay?
“You can ask Wesley about it,” Galen prodded. “He’s bound to know.”
“I will.” My voice was unnaturally squeaky.
“I’m so sorry.” Galen kissed my cheek a second time. “This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?”
I opened my mouth to agree, but found myself shaking my head instead. When I turned, the smile I graced him with was small but heartfelt. “No. It was a good idea.”
“How can you say that? I saw the look on your face when you saw your mother. That wasn’t a happy look.”
“You told me the truth.” I gripped his hand. “I’m not going to pretend this island doesn’t freak me out … that this witch thing isn’t going to give me nightmares … and that these zombies aren’t unbelievably weird. But this is my home now, and you told me the truth.”
Galen relaxed a bit, but his eyes remained guarded. “So now what?”
“Now?” I flicked my eyes to the incredibly odd and yet romantic picnic. “Now we eat the dinner you put together and get to know one another outside of a catastrophe. After that … it’s anyone’s guess.”
Galen’s lips curved. “Seriously?”
I nodded.
“That sounds like a great plan.” Galen led me toward the blanket. “I brought pie, too.”
“Oh, who doesn’t love pie?”
“No one I would ever trust with my life … or my heart.”
At least we had that in common.
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About the Author
I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my novels. I have a particular brand of humor that isn’t for everyone – and I know that.
If you liked the book, please take a few minutes and leave a review. An independent author does it all on their own, and the reviews are helpful. I understand that my characters aren’t for everyone, though. There’s a lot of snark and sarcasm in my world – and I know some people don’t like that.
Special thanks go out to Heidi Bitsoli and Phil VanHulle for correcting the (numerous) errors that creep into a work of fiction.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For more information:
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Books by Amanda M. Lee
An Avery Shaw Mystery
Who, What, Where, When, Die
If it Bleeds, it Leads
Buried Leads
Shot Off The Presses
The Preditorial Page
Misquoted & Demoted
Headlines & Deadlines
Misprints & Mistakes
Bylines & Skylines
Off the Record
Unwritten & Underwater
A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery
Any Witch Way You Can
Every Witch Way But Wicked
Witching You Were Here
Witching on a Star
Something to Witch About
Witch Me Luck
Life’s a Witch
Charms & Witchdemeanors
The Trouble With Witches
Murder Most W
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A Witch Before Dying
A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short
Careful What You Witch For
Wicked Brew
On a Witch and a Prayer
You Only Witch Once
The Christmas Witch
Bewitched
A Solstice Celebration
Witchdependence Day
Happy Witchgiving
Merry Witchmas
Four-Leaf Clover
Thistle While You Work
Landon Calling
I Dream of Twila
How Aunt Tillie Stole Christmas
A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy
Witchy Tales
A Witch In Time
Make A Witch
A Witchmas Carol
An Aisling Grimlock Mystery
Grim Tidings
Grim Offerings
Grim Discovery
Grim Reunion
Grim Expectations
Grim Holiday
Grim Rising
Grimlock Family Shorts
Grim Like Me
Covenant College
Awakening
Whispering
Conjuring
Waxing & Waning
Graduating
Living Covenant Trilogy
Rising Covenant
Dark Covenant
Eternal Covenant
Dying Covenant Trilogy
Haunted Covenant
Desperate Covenant
Everlasting Covenant
A Mystic Caravan Mystery
Freaky Days
Freaky Lies
Freaky Hearts
Freaky Games
A Charlie Rhodes Cozy Mystery
The Bigfoot Blunder
The Chupacabra Catastrophe