Tug of Attraction

by Ashlyn Chase

  One of the rings caught Brigit’s eye. “Oh! What a gorgeous amethyst.”

  Yvonne slipped it off her middle finger. “Here. Try it on.”

  “No. It’s yours. I shouldn’t.”

  Yvonne smiled. “Actually, there’s another one very much like it. The same designer made them both.” She opened the cabinet in front of her and pulled a ring display from the bottom shelf, then set it on the glass top.

  Brigit spotted the ring she was referring to immediately. It was slightly larger than the one Yvonne wore. “It’s beautiful, but you’re evil for tempting me.”

  “Evil!” Yvonne slapped her chest as if shot in the heart. “I’m no such thing. We have layaway.”

  Brigit chuckled. “What the heck. There’s no harm in trying things on, right?”

  “None at all.” Yvonne took the amethyst from the velvet box and handed it to her.

  Brigit slipped it onto her ring finger and it fit perfectly. She extended her hand at arm’s length and admired the gem.

  “It’s breathtaking on you. It almost matches your eyes. Purple is just about the best color for brunettes. Are you a February baby by any chance?”

  “No. It’s not my birthstone. I was born in late June.” She peeked at the price tag and squeaked, “Yikes. I can’t afford it anyway.”

  “Even with layaway?”

  “Can you take a couple of dollars a week for five years?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then we’re done here.” She handed back the ring with a sigh.

  A woman emerged from the reading room followed by Myranda.

  “Ah. Saved by the psychic.”

  Myranda strode over to Brigit and gave her a hug. “What am I saving you from?”

  “Myself—and your evil temptress saleswoman here.”

  Myranda grinned. “She works here for a reason, honey.”

  “Yeah. I get that. Do you have time for a quick reading?”

  “What? Like ten minutes?”

  “That should be enough. I just have one concern, but I’d rather not explain what it is.”

  “No problem. Come with me.”

  Brigit followed her to the reading room. A moment before she entered, she glanced over her shoulder at Yvonne. A pang of loss followed as she watched the ring disappear back into the display case. Oh well. There will be many more sacrifices if my attempt to get pregnant is successful.

  Myranda scooted into her chair behind the small table while Brigit sat on the vacant chair closest to her.

  “So, what shall it be? Tarot cards? Crystal ball?” Myranda asked.

  “Whatever you’re most comfortable with.” Brigit began feeling a little nervous.

  “Okay. Think about a question you want answered while I get my crystal ball. I haven’t performed a scrying for a while, and I like to stay in practice.”

  “Sure.” Brigit thought about it, but exactly what did she want to know? “Is it okay if the question is a little nebulous?”

  Myranda rolled her eyes and set her crystal ball on the table between them. “Oh, that’s a great start. Why don’t I give you another minute?”

  Brigit mentally wrestled with the wording. Will Ethan honor the terms of the contract? Will I ultimately achieve my goal of independent motherhood? How specific or general did she want to be? After considering both ideas, she decided to be specific. The spells they cast were supposed to be specific to avoid any misunderstanding between the witch and the powers-that-be. So should the question be with the psychic.

  “Okay. I have my question.”

  “Share it.”

  Could she ask it in a way that would withhold the details from Myranda, but still be specific enough for the Goddess?

  “Yes. I want to know if the details in the contract I recently drew up will be honored.”

  Myranda closed her eyes, took a few deep, cleansing breaths, and then concentrated on the crystal ball. She didn’t say anything for several long moments. Brigit wondered if she was getting any information at all.

  At last she said, “I don’t see a contract. I see you on a narrow path. Do you understand that?”

  “I think so.”

  “There’s a sharp turn on this path. I see you struggling to go forward, but there are brambles and a lot of overgrowth that way. Does that make sense?”

  Brigit’s brow furrowed. “Unfortunately, I think it does. So, you’re saying the path I’m on won’t be successful?”

  “I didn’t say that. If you go, follow where the path leads, I think you’ll ultimately get what you want. It just may not be the way you want it. You’re going to have to make a decision.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  Myranda chuckled. “Sorry about that. I just share what I see.”

  “I know. I want you to be honest.”

  “Good, because I honestly think your stubbornness leads to hardship. You might ultimately get to your goal, but it won’t be pleasant.”

  Brigit let out a long sigh. “Frig.”

  “Don’t blame the Goddess Frig just because it’s not what you wanted to hear.”

  “Do you see anything else?”

  Myranda returned her gaze to the crystal ball. Again she didn’t say anything for quite a while. Brigit was tempted to drum her fingers on the table, but she didn’t want to interrupt the psychic’s trance.

  At last Myranda spoke in a voice that sounded a little deeper than usual. “The path’s direction is laid out as it’s meant to be. Honor that.”

  She waited for something more. Myranda closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sorry. Headache. Sometimes that happens when I try to see things that aren’t there.”

  Brigit nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  * * * *

  “Eep!” Hanna startled when she saw someone outside her seventh floor window looking in. When she recognized the face and hair, she wanted to scream—at her friend. She threw open the window and yanked her inside by the collar. “Fayleen, what are you doing hovering outside my window? Anyone could look up and see you.”

  “No, they couldn’t. I did a cloaking spell. I wanted to practice my ability to hover.”

  “You’re not a helicopter. You nearly gave me a heart attack. Why can’t you come to my door and knock like a normal witch?”

  “You really are a killjoy sometimes.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Well, now that you’re here, what did you want?”

  “A cup of tea would be nice.”

  Hanna rolled her eyes. “Fine. Have a seat.”

  As soon as Fayleen sat on the couch, Hanna snapped her fingers and a complete silver tea service appeared on the coffee table.

  “What? No cake or cookies?”

  “Get your own cookies. I don’t eat sugar.”

  “Fine.” Fayleen held out her hand, palm up and a plate of shortbread appeared. She set the plate on the end table next to her and lifted the tea pot. “Shall I pour?”

  “Please.”

  Fayleen handed her a hot cup of orange and spice tea. Hanna took a welcome sip and it calmed her—slightly.

  “So what’s the status on finding the grail?”

  Fayleen squirmed. “Um. It’s not good. The woman who takes apart the mixed materials at the recycling center said she remembered seeing it, but she couldn’t disassemble it. She finally gave up and tossed it in the trash compactor.”

  Hanna gasped. “Oh my Goddess! She destroyed it?”

  “Relax. It’s supernatural, remember? It wouldn’t crush.”

  “Whew. So where is it?”

  “She said as much as she hated to do it, she had to take it to the dump and toss it in the landfill.”

  “Are you kidding me? So, now someone has to go rooting around through mountains of garbage to find it?”

  “Uh, yeah. And I was thinking it would go faster with—”

  “Oh, no. I’m not the one who lost it, and I already did my duty by helping you at the recycli
ng center. Find some other chump.”

  “But I don’t want to tell the others it’s missing. Pleeeease...”

  Hanna did her best to hold her temper, but this was too much. She snapped her fingers and Fayleen disappeared.

  * * * *

  Ethan was tossing and turning in bed that night. At last he sat up and turned on the light. “Charlotte. Are you around?”

  “No. I’m at the senior center playing bingo. Oh. Sorry for the sarcasm. You look distressed. Do you want to talk?”

  “Yeah. It seems as if you’re the only one I can confide in.” He leaned against his headboard and mentally rolled his eyes at himself for asking a seventeenth century hooker for guidance. “Can you put aside your sense of humor for a few minutes and treat this seriously?”

  “Of course. Is this still about the baby-daddy thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you want my opinion?”

  “I think so.” This is probably a bad fuckin’ idea.

  “And you’ll do whatever I tell you to do?”

  “Ha! Absolutely not.” He folded his arms over his bare chest.

  She sighed. “Oh well. It was worth a shot. So, let’s review. She wants you to sleep with her until she gets pregnant.”

  “Check.”

  “And then it’s ‘Adios amigo.’”

  “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish.”

  “I don’t, but I just watched a movie about three friends in Mexico. It was funny.”

  “Yeah. I think I know that one. Let’s stay on track though.”

  “Fine. Here’s what you do. You set the mood with candlelight, wine, some oysters—”

  “I don’t think she needs all that.”

  “Every woman, who isn’t me, needs romance. Seriously. If you bring her upstairs to glaring overhead lights, I’ll short them out.”

  Ethan dropped his head in his hands. “Relax. I was going to use candlelight to set the mood anyway.” Then he sat up straighter. “No, wait. Even better. Green candles, on a Friday, with the moon in her waxing phase. Then the two of us can perform The Great Rite.”

  “The what what?”

  “It’s sex magic.”

  “Oh. More woo woo stuff. Sex should be magic all the time. In my case it was mostly acting, but men like to think we’re enjoying it too. I assume you’re going to make sure she has the big O.”

  He smiled. “I always do.”

  “Good. Well, beyond that, I’m not sure what you want my help with. It’s not like I can join you in a threesome.”

  He shuddered. “It’s not the sex act itself I’m worried about.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t laugh.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “I’m having this fantasy that I can’t get out of my head.”

  “Oh?”

  While he tried to figure out how to put it into words, she apparently got it.

  “Oh! You’re picturing the whole happy little family thing, aren’t you?”

  His posture slumped. “Yeah. If you told me a month ago that I’d be considering marriage, children, and the whole nine yards, I’d have laughed.”

  “Me too. I kind of thought it would be just me and you here until the end.”

  Ethan fell silent and contemplated her words. ‘Just me and you here until the end.’ How depressing. He didn’t know when and how things would change, but he figured they would—someday. Probably when he retired, he’d buy an RV and see the rest of the country—maybe.

  Meanwhile, he was so focused on not changing the life he had enjoyed for the trap of marriage and family, that he hadn’t given any thought to how he might want to change it. He had a good thirty-five or so years to go before retirement. Would he be content doing the same thing day in and day out, all that time?

  At last he said, “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I need to get some shut-eye. Maybe I’ll figure it out in my dreams.” He clicked off the light.

  “You might. Or you could have horrible nightmares.”

  “Gee thanks.” He punched the pillow and lay on his side. “Good night, Charlotte.”

  “Of course, you probably won’t. You didn’t eat a big bowl of chili before bed. That’s what happened the last time you had nightmares.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Now, goodnight.”

  “Or we could stay up and play a game—”

  “Good. Night. Charlotte.” Ethan grabbed the extra pillow and flopped it over his head to shut out the ghost’s chatter. A moment later his eyes fluttered closed.

  Ethan found himself on his knees in front of his home.

  An encouraging feminine voice said, “Come on. It’s just a little farther.”

  He rose to his feet and was surprised to find one of his legs dragged behind him. He limped toward the young blonde woman, whom he didn’t recognize.

  “You can do it. It’s only a couple of blocks now,” she said. Her voice and eyes were kind. He knew he could trust her.

  He continued on until he stumbled and fell in the dirt again. This wasn’t the paved street he was used to. He struggled to his feet, wanting to reach whatever was waiting for him...not that he knew what that was.

  A moment later, he found himself in a wooded clearing. Upright, healthy, and raking leaves. He raked some toward the center, creating a nice pile. Then he raked away from it as if clearing a ring around the center. At last he had a large circle filled with leaves and a cleared border all around it.

  He set candles in the dirt, surrounding the center. When he looked up he saw Brigit, wearing her black cape. She let it drop and was gloriously naked. He could barely take his eyes off of her. By the time she stepped into the leafy center, the candles were lit.

  He peeled off his clothes and joined her there. What he had been doing made sense now. He had been creating a natural bed for their great rite. They joined hands and stood facing each other.

  Then the two of them were standing in his kitchen. They were both preparing something. He noticed Brigit stirring a batter of some kind. Maybe she was baking a cake. It was a homey scene and he was surprisingly content.

  Then she set her bowl on the counter and said, “Well, I have to go now.” She walked out the screen door to the back yard. He didn’t know why, but he felt bereft.

  “Ethan. Wake up,” Charlotte shouted in his ear.

  “Not yet. Waiting for...” When he realized he was talking in his sleep and he was about to say he was waiting for Brigit to come back, he shut his mouth.

  “Your alarm has been going off for thirty minutes.”

  “Really?” He checked the clock and Charlotte was right.

  “That’s what you get for waking up to soft music. I’d have changed the station to some annoying hard rock, but I didn’t want to punish myself.”

  “I appreciate the wake-up call, Charlotte.” He jumped out of bed and started gathering the clothes he needed from his dresser. “I need to get to the boat. I don’t want to miss the slackwater.”

  “That’s when the tide isn’t going in or out. It’s just ten minutes of standing still. Right?”

  “Yup. I guess you do listen.”

  “Of course I listen. What else do I have to do? Are you meeting some big ship?”

  “Nope. A Navy sub.”

  “Cool. I’d go with you, but, well...”

  “I know. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.” He dashed to the bathroom and figured he could make up the time if he took the world’s fastest shower and skipped his coffee.

  * * * *

  “Is it really almost Samhain already?” Hanna asked the Triquetra Coven members at the next full moon. “It seems like fall is just flying by.”

  Usually shy April spoke up, “I couldn’t get over the maple leaves turning bright red, and all the other beautiful colors.”

  “That’s right! This was your first New England autumn,” Brigit said. She really liked the new member. Sometimes it took a while for someone to fit in, but April seemed to blend right away.
<
br />   Rebecca elbowed her bakery business partner. “And soon you’ll experience your first New England winter.” She faced the rest of the coven and said, “I’ve tried to prepare her for the Nor’easters.”

  “I had fun shopping for boots, hats and jackets. Can’t say I needed those much in Texas.”

  “Don’t forget good gloves and thick socks,” Ethan added. “You can get frostbite if you’re on the water, like I am, or get stuck in a snowbank.”

  April’s brows rose. “Huh? I can avoid the ocean, but how would I get stuck in a snowbank?”

  Rebecca laughed. “I think he meant if your car gets stuck in a snowbank. But not to worry, Ethan. She doesn’t have a car yet.”

  “But you do.”

  “Okay, okay. We’ll be sure she has thick socks, gloves and a scarf.”

  Hanna smiled. “I love how our coven members take care of each other. Any other advice for April, or other questions before we begin?”

  Fayleen cleared her throat.

  “I’m getting to that,” Hanna said. The group fell silent. “Okay, if there are no more questions, I have one. Does anyone know where Michele is?”

  Murmurs and head shakes were the only answers.

  Rebecca cocked her head. “Can’t you do a locator spell—or something?”

  There seemed to be more meaning behind her question, but Brigit didn’t know what it was. Then she remembered that Rebecca had used some kind of spell to find her father.

  Fayleen spoke. “We’ve pulled out everything in our bag of tricks. I’m afraid she’s shielded herself so well, even we can’t find her.”

  We, meaning Fayleen and Hanna no doubt.

  “I’m sorry,” April said. “Who’s Michele?”

  “She was a long-time member of our coven,” Hanna said. “In fact, your brother Dru was supposed to take her place.”

  “And since I took Dru’s place, I’m actually here in Michele’s spot.”

  “No. You’re here in your spot. The Goddess must have decided we needed an April instead of a Michele.” Hanna gave her a special smile that was packed with warmth.

  Keith tapped his foot. “So, what do you need Michele for?”

  Fayleen and Hanna glanced at each other. At last, Hanna closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly.