witches of cleopatra hill 04.5 - cleopatra hill christmas

by Christine Pope

  Connor was frowning slightly. “But don’t we all do the same thing to our primas and primuses? I mean, it’s not like we were able to escape that birthright.”

  I hadn’t really thought about it that way. On the other hand, elders were chosen. They weren’t born to their position the way a prima was — or a primus, although the Wilcoxes were the only clan I knew of to have a man at their head, rather than a woman. At least being a prima meant you inherited certain powers…and were more or less guaranteed your perfect soul mate, whereas elders served in those positions because of the duty they felt toward their clan.

  “Maybe,” I said slowly. “I suppose I’ll need to think about it some more. Obviously, I’m not going to be making any sweeping changes anytime soon.” I glanced over at my sleeping children and smiled. “I’ve got enough on my plate at the moment.”

  “But you’re still going ahead with more remodeling?” Rachel asked, looking a little skeptical. She was probably thinking that I’d already done enough to the house.

  “It’s just a little bathroom remodel,” I told her. “It won’t disrupt anything because we won’t even be here while it’s going on. Besides, Connor’s threatened to divorce me if I don’t get rid of that clawfoot bathtub.”

  Far from being offended by my remark, he grinned. “It’s true. That thing has got to go.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes, while Tobias appeared to stifle a chuckle. But at least I knew she wouldn’t argue the point, because I told her sometime back that all my remodels on the house had my late great-aunt’s blessing. At least, Jocelyn Riggs, the McAllister clan’s strongest medium, had told me that Great-Aunt Ruby was fine with anything I did with the place, and I had to be content with that. One good thing about being a member of a family of witches; no one really batted an eye at messages from beyond the grave.

  The twins started fussing as Rachel got up to bring in dessert — Black Forest cake — so I took Ian while Connor held Emily, and Tobias cleared the dinner plates and the leftover food off the table. The babies didn’t seem hungry, or in need of a change, and I supposed they just wanted to be held.

  Which was fine by me. I snuggled Ian up against me, marveling for probably the thousandth time at his long dark lashes and bowed little mouth and tiny grasping hands.

  “Happy?” Connor murmured.

  “Deliriously. You?”

  “Just about the same.”

  We exchanged smiles, and once again I could feel the need for him pulsing through my veins. Well, I’d just have to see what happened.

  In the meantime, there was cake, and small cordial glasses of port for everyone. I’d been careful with dinner, drinking only one glass of wine, so I thought it was okay to have a small bit of that port. And it did taste divine with the Black Forest cake, even if I did have to manage the whole procedure of eating it one-handed because of holding Ian with my left arm.

  He fell asleep partway through dessert, but I didn’t really feel like putting him back in his basket. Somehow it felt right to have him there next to me, as if he was getting to participate in Christmas Eve dinner even though he couldn’t actually eat any of it.

  Rachel and Tobias seemed to view the sleeping twins as their signal to depart. They rose from the table and took out the dessert plates. When they returned, my aunt said, “We’ll be heading home now. But we’ll see you tomorrow at Spook Hall.”

  Was there ever a more inappropriate name for a place to hold a family Christmas dinner? Oh, well. I knew that was one tradition the McAllister witches would never abandon.

  “Absolutely,” I promised, then extricated myself from my seat so I could walk them to the door. Connor followed right behind, Emily pillowed on his shoulder. She was making little bubbling sounds and had left a damp patch on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind too much.

  And when we opened the front door so Tobias and Rachel could head out, we saw that the universe had granted us one last gift this Christmas Eve — fine white flakes had begun to fall from the heavy skies, leaving a dusting of dry, powdery snow all over the front yard.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” I breathed.

  Tobias nodded, but my aunt said, “Beautiful, yes, but we’re going to have a slippery walk if we don’t get going.”

  “I wouldn’t let you slip,” Tobias told her, and slid his arm through hers.

  A faint smile touched her mouth. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Her gaze moved toward me, and she added, “Now close that door, Angela. It’s far too cold out here for those babies.”

  I supposed it was. We’d have to go to the living room window and watch the snow falling from there.

  After waving goodbye with my free hand, I shut the front door. Connor seemed to have guessed what I wanted to do next, because he headed into the living room, Emily still completely conked out. Ian shifted in my arms, but I could tell he wasn’t ready to wake up.

  We hadn’t closed the draperies, so we had a clear view of the quiet street and the snow falling gently in the darkness. Our house had Christmas lights, and several houses down, so did the big Victorian where my cousin Adam had lived before he moved out, first to his own apartment down on Main Street, and then more lately to Flagstaff to be with his Wilcox bride. Adam’s mother was a civilian, so it didn’t surprise me too much that she’d want Christmas lights. Then again, Jerome was half witch, and more than half the witch population followed some form of Wicca, and yet they all liked to put up holiday lights as well. Just another form of self-expression, from the giant “Ho”s you’d see all over town — an allusion to the mining town’s former red-light district — to the giant peace sign on the side of a wall right off Main Street.

  Even with the holiday light display, Jerome was a dark town; we didn’t have a lot of street lights. So I couldn’t see exactly how quickly the snow piled up, although it seemed to me a gentle, drifting kind of snowfall. I only hoped it would stick long enough that we’d have a white Christmas when we woke up the next morning.

  “Did you wish for this?” Connor asked.

  “I hoped for it,” I replied. “Unfortunately, weather control is a bit beyond my powers. But maybe Tricia McAllister and some of our other weather-workers gave it a nudge.”

  It wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility, although in general they tried not to meddle with the weather too much unless such intervention was necessary to avoid damage to crops or people. I didn’t know if giving the town a snowy Christmas Eve was necessary or not, but I definitely enjoyed watching it.

  “Well, I’d like to think a prima’s hopes had some power.” He moved closer, and then I felt his warm lips press against the side of my neck. A shiver ran through me at his touch.

  “Let’s get the babies down for the night,” I whispered.

  “Excellent suggestion.”

  We slipped away from the window and went upstairs so we could put the twins in their cribs and switch them over to their nightclothes. They’d been groggy enough that I hoped they wouldn’t wake up during that procedure. Unfortunately, they did wake up and started fussing. And fussing. And fussing.

  And then they needed changing, and so we had to get them cleaned up and into fresh diapers, and their onesies back on them after all that. Once we were done and they’d more or less begun to settle down, Connor arched a brow at me.

  “So…?”

  “So,” I said wearily, “nothing kills my libido faster than baby poop. Rain check?”

  He sighed. “I’ll add it to the stack.”

  4

  The snow had stopped by the time we roused ourselves the next morning — Ian and Emily had slept until about three, but then they were up for more than an hour, and I sort of face-planted in the bed after that. Now it was almost seven, and I could hear them gearing up for another round of morning “feed me, change my diaper!” wailing.

  “Get in the shower,” Connor said, after taking a good, long look at my face. “You pumped enough last time that I should be able to give both of them a bottle.”
>
  “I love you, you know that?” I responded as I dragged myself out of bed.

  “Why yes, I think I do.”

  I had to kiss him then, but just a quick smack, nothing sultry or smoldering about it. After that I hurried into the bathroom, and tried to gear myself up for the day by taking a hot, soothing shower. Not nearly as long a shower as I would have liked, but better than nothing. By the time I emerged, the twins had been fed and changed, and put in their matching red-and-white striped onesies. Mostly I’d tried to avoid dressing them alike, but those onesies had been too cute to resist.

  Connor helped me take them downstairs in their baskets, and then he went back up for his own shower. In the meantime, I got a pot of coffee going, and opened the refrigerator to find that Rachel had left a tray of unbaked homemade biscuits there, ready to be popped into the oven.

  Blessings on you, Rachel, I thought, smiling as I went to turn on the oven. It wouldn’t be too hard to whip up a batch of scrambled eggs to go with those biscuits, so I got to work on those. I was just scooping them onto a pair of plates when Connor appeared in the kitchen.

  “What, a real breakfast?” he asked. “I mean, I like corn flakes as much as the next guy, but — ”

  “They’re not exactly what you should be eating on Christmas morning.” I set the plates down on the little table by the window, then went back to pull the biscuits out of the oven. “Rachel put these together for me, so I can’t take all the credit.”

  “She did? When did she sneak those in?”

  “I have no idea — but we witches have our ways.”

  “That you do.”

  I put the biscuits on a plate while Connor got a couple of mugs out of the cupboard and took them over to the table, along with the pot of fresh coffee. Then all we needed was some butter and some jam, and we were sitting down to a real feast, especially compared to the hurried breakfasts we’d been consuming for the past few weeks. Most days I was lucky to make it through a whole carton of yogurt. Too many distractions.

  Connor poured the coffee, and I looked over at the babies. They seemed to be completely sacked out — not surprising, considering how much they’d been up the night before. I could only hope they’d let us make it all the way through breakfast.

  “What time do we have to be at the hall?” Connor asked.

  “Around one. Rachel told me about fifty times to not worry about bringing anything, and for once I’m not going to argue with her. I suppose I could have made my cranberry sauce, but I’m sure someone else will pick up the slack.”

  “I would hope so.”

  He had no idea. The McAllister holiday dinner tended to result in mountains of leftover food, because of course everyone made too much, thinking there wouldn’t be enough. By comparison, the Wilcox potluck was a study in restraint. I’d heard they were still having it at one of the relatives’ houses, but it was a cousin I didn’t know very well. I had to hope they wouldn’t be too offended by Connor and me not attending this year. We couldn’t be in two places at once, and it had made more sense to stay down here after Lucas and Margot’s wedding, especially since Connor and I had been spending so much time in Flagstaff the past few months anyway.

  After breakfast, the twins woke up, but they seemed more interested in watching what the two of us were doing than crying, so we decided it was a good time to go back into the living room and exchange our own presents. Connor got to work on getting a fire going, and I went to the window to take a peek outside.

  Yes, the snow had stuck. Everything was covered in a soft blanket of white, mostly undisturbed, although I could see a few pairs of footprints in the center of Paradise Lane, the street where my house was located. Overhead, the sky was blue, with gray-white clouds drifting by, not enough of them to promise another round of snow. Just as well, since I wouldn’t have wanted to get the babies to and from the car while snow was falling. In times past, Connor and I would have walked down to Spook Hall from the house, even in the snow, but it was way too cold outside to do that while carrying a couple of newborns.

  Soon the fire had begun to crackle away in earnest, adding its own homey scent to the spiciness of the cinnamon pinecones Rachel had put in the bowl on the coffee table. Connor had plugged in the tree, and the little white lights glittered amongst the noble fir’s branches.

  Ian and Emily stared at it, wide-eyed. Their little brains were taking in so much information these days, I had no idea what they must have thought of this big and shiny thing sitting in the corner of the room.

  But then Connor was pulling a long, flat package out from underneath the tree. He handed it to me and said, “Merry Christmas. Or Yule,” he added hastily. “I’m still not sure which is the right thing to say around here.”

  “Either. Both,” I replied with a grin. “We celebrate Yule on the solstice, but most people like to have their Christmas, too.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “Not really. We McAllisters will take any excuse to party.”

  He chuckled a little at my reply, then watched as I took the package over to the couch and sat down. The box felt heavy, even though it wasn’t very deep, and I wondered what in the world could be inside. Only one way to find out, of course.

  I pulled off the wrapping paper, but carefully. I’d never been the type to rip a package open, anyway, but right then I wanted to avoid making too much noise, since the twins looked as if they were about to nod off again. Inside the paper was a plain white box. I lifted the lid, then let out a gasp.

  Inside was a heavy silver necklace set with turquoise in shades ranging from the palest Dry Creek variety to the deep blue-green shade of Santa Rosa stones. The effect was stunning, and unique. I knew I’d never seen anything like it before.

  “It’s beautiful,” I breathed. “Where on earth did you get this?”

  A smile lit up Connor’s jade-green eyes. “I commissioned your father to make it. I wanted you to have something extra-special for our first Christmas as a married couple.”

  “It’s…amazing.” Tears stung my eyes. He’d gotten me something no one else would ever have, something for me as Angela, not Angela-the-mom or Angela-the-prima. How he’d managed to arrange the commission with my father without me finding out, I wasn’t sure. Clearly, my husband had even more talents than I’d previously realized.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Connor, I love it.” I was wearing my green cashmere open cardigan, since it was the most Christmas-y thing I owned, and the turquoise concho belt Connor had given me the previous year — and which only now fit me again. The new necklace would go perfectly with my outfit.

  “Can you put it on for me?” I asked.

  “Sure.” He came over and placed the necklace around my throat, lifting my hair out of the way so he could fasten the clasp. When he was done, he bent down so he could place a kiss on the back of my neck. A delicious shiver stole through me, and I gave the babies a quick glance. If they’d just sleep for a while longer….

  But no, I’d actually taken the time to fix my hair and put on my makeup, since I knew I’d be around all my relatives today, and so running upstairs for a quick tumble probably wasn’t the best idea. Anyway, I wanted my first time with Connor after the babies to be something special, not something squeezed into a scant ten minutes because that was all the time we had. Maybe that was a foolish wish, considering we had to put the needs of the twins before our own needs, but….

  I let out a small sigh, not one that Connor could actually hear. Or at least I hoped he hadn’t heard it. “Thanks, sweetheart,” I told him. “Your present is that square one there.”

  Not that it would have taken a rocket scientist to figure that one out, since it was the only package left under the tree. Connor went over and retrieved it, then came back and settled himself on the couch next to me.

  “It’s not — it’s not as personal as the one you got me,” I said as he removed the wrapping paper. “I couldn’t really think of what to get you, a
nd things have been so crazy — ”

  He put a hand on my knee. “Angela, you know you’ve already given me the best present I could ever have, right?” His gaze strayed to the babies, now thoroughly conked out in their baskets, plump cheeks rosy in the reflected light from the hearth.

  I tilted my head at him. “I think you might have helped just a little bit in that department.”

  “But you did all the heavy lifting.” He returned his attention to the package in his lap and finished taking off the wrapping paper. “Whatever you got me, I know it’ll be perfect.” His eye widened as he saw the writing on the box. “An iWatch?”

  “Is it silly?” I asked. “I mean, it just seemed like you’re always holding a baby and trying to juggle your phone, so I thought having the watch might help — ”

  “It is not silly,” he said, leaning over so he could kiss me on the cheek. “It’s great. I’d actually thought about getting one, but then I worried it might be kind of extravagant — ”

  “A Wilcox, thinking something is extravagant?” I joked, relieved that he hadn’t thought the watch was a stupid idea. I’d gone back and forth with myself about a dozen times before I finally put the online order through.

  “Hey, we don’t all spend money the way Lucas does.” The smile he’d been wearing slipped away, and he held my gaze, as if wanting to make sure I knew he was serious. “It’s a perfect present. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And I love mine. We’re going to be the finest tigers in the jungle at the McAllister family Christmas.”

  Right then, Emily decided to wake up and start fussing. I went and picked her up, but remembered to retrieve the little spit-up blanket that I’d tucked into one side of her basket. After all, I couldn’t exactly be the finest tiger in the jungle if I was wearing a sweater covered in baby drool.