by Debora Geary
Dev’s eyebrows shot up into his hair. “What’s that?”
Lauren leaned over and kissed his wonderful, handsome face. “Stand quietly and make as little noise as possible.”
-o0o-
It was a time of day they loved, lying together on their bed as Kenna woke up from her nap, cuddly and sweet and wedged between them.
Extra sweet on this, the last day before she turned two.
And Nat was well aware that her husband’s head was somewhere else, even as he floated the tiny magic lights Kenna liked to play with when she first woke up.
Nat tilted her head, studying him. Sullivans did many things well, but waiting wasn’t one of them. “It will happen. Kate seemed really positive.” And hadn’t returned their calls all morning.
“It’s really quiet out there,” said Jamie, frowning.
Huh? “Out where?”
“On the street. I usually catch stray thoughts as people walk by. It’s lunchtime—it shouldn’t be that quiet.”
Somewhere, this conversation had taken a right turn into crazy. “We’ve had some pretty big days. Maybe your magic’s just tired.” Along with everything else. They were emotionally spent. After their roller coaster with Kate, they’d crawled into their cozy cave of home and hadn’t come out.
“Something’s up.” Jamie reached down and scooped up a sleepy Kenna.
Nat had no idea what he was talking about, but she wasn’t about to stay alone in the bed while he went to find out. She padded down the hallway after her husband and daughter, trying to hear whatever had tweaked his Spidey senses.
He stopped moving three feet from the front hall. And then inhaled, one sharp, choked gasp, and reached back to pull her forward.
She looked up at him, bewildered.
“Open the door, love.” His words rasped out. “Open the door.”
Time slowed, in that crazy, wild way it did when life changed forever.
Nat reached for the doorknob, heart beating like a jackhammer. And opened it to find Kate standing on their porch.
With Benny in her arms.
And behind her, the entirety of Witch Central. Holding candles. Smiling. And humming very quietly to the notes of pure magic coming from Shay’s flute.
We had to be here, sent Lauren gently. But we’re trying very hard not to scare him. I’m blocking everything I can. Her mindvoice cracked. Oh, Nat. He’s so beautiful.
Nat’s mind had disappeared down some black hole. She could only stare at the child who wasn’t supposed to be here yet.
Kate cleared her throat. And glanced over at Lauren and Lizard, who stood, tea lights on their palms and tears streaming down their cheeks. “You have some very persuasive friends. I’ve been notified that you have been approved as emergency foster parents. I’ll need to come by at least once a week for a home visit, and I’m sure there’s a mountain of paperwork somewhere with your name on it, but we should be able to bend the rules enough to keep him here until the adoption can be finalized.”
Nat heard not a word of it. She only understood the essence.
Benny was theirs.
And he looked so small and scared.
Very slowly, Nat stepped closer, eyes only for the child who had lived in her heart for three and a half years. Reminding herself that he knew about none of that. For him, this was the very first day. “Hello, sweet boy. My name is Nat. I’m really glad to meet you.”
It took a while, but Benny nodded slowly. And snuggled tighter into the woman who held him.
Kate moved to hand him over. Nat shook her head mutely. Not yet. He was so small—and he’d had so few choices in this life. Slowly, she lowered down to the creaky old boards of the porch, crossing her legs and motioning for the social worker to put Benny down.
And then she sank into her breath and the big, scared brown eyes of the small boy who was clinging to the leg of the person he knew best. Nat kept breathing. The only moment that mattered was this one.
She waited until his chest rose and fell with hers, and his eyes looked a little less scared. And then she smiled and let her heart peek out, just a little. “Do you like cuddles? I was hoping you might like to come sit in my lap for a while. I have a place here that’s just the right size for you.”
A hundred candles flickered—and not a soul moved.
And then one small, scared boy held out his hand and the world moved again.
Carefully, Nat gathered him up, tucking him in to the womb of her lap. He curled in, watching the quiet vigil of light.
Jamie sat down beside them, Kenna in his lap, her eyes wide and curious. I explained, he sent, voice soft and awed. She seems to think that he’s her birthday present.
Nat felt quiet laughter shake her ribs.
He was that, too.
-o0o-
Moira clutched Ginia’s hand, an anchor in the swirling, heady emotion. The year’s longest night stormed over the horizon—and not a soul gathered in this moment saw anything but light.
Ginia swayed, quietly humming to her sister’s ethereal notes played on the old and battered flute that had been Edric’s gift. There was a story there. Moira was quite sure she’d hear it soon enough.
The healers had been cloistered with Sophie in her herbals room preparing materials for the Solstice circles when the message had gone out. And like witches throughout the ages, they had dropped everything to be present at a time of import.
Ginia squeezed tighter, her face shimmering with elation. “He came. He’s really here.”
Yes. And the realtor witches who had pulled that off were about to discover what it meant to be Witch Central’s heroes. Sometimes, timing was everything.
Moira hugged the girl in her arms and let her eyes drift to take in the magic that was this very special audience.
Mia, done with her candle distributing duties, cuddled under a blanket with her uncle Matt and Téo, who had arrived wearing shorts and stethoscopes and goose bumps. Molly, ground-zero facilitator of this most special of holiday gifts, sat tucked under Téo’s other arm, an enormous grin on her face.
Retha and Michael Sullivan stood behind them in their Costa Rican finery, flanking Molly’s mom, not feeling the cold at all. It wasn’t the first time they’d become grandparents, but some things just never lost their wonder. Michael held a small shovel and a bucket in his hands. Gifts from a gardener to his newest grandson, who reportedly loved to dig.
Moira touched the two small red mittens under her cloak. So many had prepared treasures these past hours, trying to will Benny home faster.
The social worker who had arrived with the boy had melted back into the crowd—and stopped, unable to leave Witch Central’s gravitational orbit. Someone had equipped her with a tea light. And anyone who doubted the miracle taking place on this California lawn had only to look at her eyes.
Moira had deep respect for the people who battled to do good on the front lines of indifference and worse. It was painful work, and ground hard fought for could so easily be stolen away.
Not on this day. And the tea light reflected in two eyes that knew it—and rejoiced.
Moira squeezed Ginia’s shoulders and walked over to the social worker’s side. “He’ll be loved here.”
“I’m supposed—” the woman’s voice hitched. “I’m supposed to say something right now about all the hoops still left to jump through, and that this placement is only temporary.”
“Ah.” An old witch settled a companionable arm around a stranger’s shoulders. “Well, I’d be Irish. And we’re not much good at doing what we’re supposed to.”
The social worker laughed quietly. “In that case, I’ll just say that when I signed on for this job thirty years ago, I thought there would be lots of moments like this.”
Moira was very sure there weren’t enough. “It takes great courage to do the work you do.”
The smile from the stranger at her side was a thing of outrageous beauty. “Not today, it doesn’t.”
The throngs around the
m had begun to move slowly. Moira squinted, trying to make out the reason for the movement. And felt Lauren’s gentle mindtouch. Guiding them, ever so slowly, in a silent river of light. One that would let everyone pass in front of the new family cuddled up on their porch.
The tiny remnants of Moira’s water magic utterly approved.
The social worker paused, an island in the slow-moving flow. “I’d best be going now.”
Moira’s arm didn’t budge an inch. “Stay. We’ve a wee bit of a Solstice dinner happening in a while, and I’ll bet you haven’t eaten half the day.” She nudged her new charge back into the river’s embrace. “I’m Moira, and that wee boy you brought will be calling me Gran.”
“I’m Kate.” The woman moved her feet and began to chuckle. “You’re very good at this, aren’t you?”
Moira put on her best innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Kate looked around. “He’s a very lucky boy to be part of this. Anyone would be lucky to be part of this.”
“Aye.” Time to let the gift of Benny begin its ripples out into the universe. “And anyone who delivers us small boys for the holidays has become a part of us, whether she knew it when she got here or not.”
It took a moment for the words to land. And then a very bemused social worker found herself captured by the happy flow.
Moira looked around, making sure the river hadn’t tossed out anyone else.
And saw the last two people she would have expected to see outside the magic. Aervyn sat on the first branch of a small cherry tree in the corner of the yard, knees tucked up under his chin, face deep in thought. Ginia had climbed up to sit by his side.
She just got there, but they’ve been communing for a while, sent Lauren from somewhere in the river. He’s been up there the whole time. Not unhappy. Just thinking really hard, and he’s got his barriers pulled down tighter than a drum.
They were only children. And yet, as Moira joined her place in the flow of light and welcome, she felt an uncanny certainty stirring.
Whatever moved in the hearts of those two, it wasn’t little.
-o0o-
Nat looked up from Benny, snuggled into her chest, as footsteps emerged from Kenna’s room.
“She’s asleep.” Ginia held up her fingers and wiggled them. “I did one of my special sleep spells with the pretty smells.”
Nat smiled. Benny’s eyes were following the wiggly fingers. “Thank you, sweetheart. That’s a lovely present.” The young healer had insisted she had one to deliver. Tonight.
Ginia shook her head. “It’s not my gift. Not the big one.”
Jamie, in the hall behind her, shrugged his shoulders. Whatever it is, it feels really important to her.
“I couldn’t help him to get here.” Lingering shadows passed over Ginia’s face as she straightened her shoulders and looked at Benny. “But I can help him to feel like he belongs.”
Nat wouldn’t have sent those determined blue eyes away if the hordes of Hell had insisted. She reached out an arm and hugged her niece. “What do you have in mind?”
“He’s little,” said Ginia softly. “And I bet he wakes up in his crib alone a lot and he’s really scared.”
Nat’s arms clutched Benny convulsively. “Not anymore.” She’d camp out on his floor if she had to.
She’s got a different idea, sent Jamie. He wrapped his arms around his niece from the back. “What’s on your mind, short stuff?”
“I’m taller than you were when you were eleven.”
“Nuh, uh.”
“Way.” Ginia grinned. “Like a whole inch. Gramma Retha says you guys were runts.”
Jamie feigned a dagger to the heart.
Some would have seen it as a distraction. Nat saw it for what it was. The fabric of the Sullivan family was woven with many threads of exactly this kind of teasing and laughter. One niece and one uncle, reaffirming the pattern.
With a quick glance at Benny and his big, watching eyes, Jamie planted a slurpy kiss into Ginia’s hair. “Okay, you. We have a boy to get to bed here. What’s your plan?”
Ceding power to one who needed to hold it. There were few people in the world better at that than her husband.
“You have a big bed.” Ginia looked up at Nat. “And Kenna slept with you when she was little, right? Just like most of the babies do.”
In Witch Central, they certainly did.
Jamie grinned. “She left pretty fast.” Kenna had moved out with a vengeance last winter, bound and determined not to be a baby anymore.
“That’s cuz she totally gets that you love her.” Their niece was watching Benny again. “I think he could maybe learn that the same way the babies do. Sleeping all warm and cuddly so he can hear your hearts in the night when he wakes up, and then he won’t be scared.”
And they would sleep hearing his little sleeping whiffles. Nat blinked back tears—it was a gorgeous idea. “I would love that so very much.” But it might not be wise. She breathed deeply of the small boy in her arms. His needs had to come first this night.
“Kate brought the crib he’s used to.” Jamie swooped in to the rescue, still cuddling their young healer. “But I really like your idea. Maybe we can move the crib into our room tonight, really close to our bed. And when he’s more used to us, we can try putting him in with us.”
Ginia touched his cheek, matriarch-in-training to cute peon who clearly didn’t understand yet. “I can fix that. The part where he’s scared. I can help him sleep in your bed tonight.”
There was no doubting the gift she offered now. Nat felt the pull—the huge, deep maternal longing. And still, she worried it would ask too much of the boy she held.
The seeds of this came from something Moira said. Jamie was thinking, hard. I know what the social worker said about keeping stuff as familiar as possible, but…
Yeah. Moira knew an awful lot about babies.
“His brain is scared.” A gentle preteen hand reached out to touch Benny’s bare toes. “But see how he’s all curled up on you like that? Just like a new baby.”
A boy in a pouch. A soul seeking a womb.
Ginia’s voice had taken on a healing cadence, her hands moving slowly up and down in the air near Benny’s spine. “His body knows he’s safe now, and that will teach his heart. I can help his brain be quiet tonight, just like we do for the newborns if they’re a little scared about the world.” She smiled at Nat, eyes holding out her gift. “So he can sleep with you and cuddle and learn about how much everybody loves him. Kind of like a new chance to be born.”
Nat could already feel his little body relaxing. Letting go of the wariness.
And one look at Jamie said he was already a goner.
They would sleep with their sweet boy tonight, in the bed where they’d spent three-and-a-half years waiting for him. It didn’t get any sweeter than that.
Ginia was smiling now, deeply connected to her newest cousin. “I can use a sleep spell if he needs one, but I think he’s gonna conk out pretty soon.”
Nat knew a little something about gifts and the true honoring of them. Sharing this one wouldn’t diminish it in the slightest. “He might wake up in the night and be scared.”
Jamie’s mental chuckle was almost instant. You are a very tricky wife.
Ginia, still lost in her little patient, took the words far more literally. “I could stay. The love seat in your room is really comfy, and then I could be right there if he needs me.”
Nat smiled and began to lead the procession down the hall to the bedroom. Benny might as well learn right from the beginning—his family was a lot bigger than four.
Chapter 24
Nat woke up slowly, treasuring every moment of leaking awareness.
The beautiful lightness of her own heart, the wasteland within entirely overrun by flowers.
The sweet snuffles coming from the bed beside her.
And the quiet rejoicing from the far side of the bed.
She opened her eyes an
d found Jamie watching her. How long have you been awake?
He shook his head, bemused. Dunno. I can’t get enough of looking at them.
Nat let her eyes fall on the two little bodies wedged between them in the bed. Benny had fallen asleep the night before, cuddled in the soft nest under Jamie’s arm. And sometime in the night, their fiercely independent daughter, so very proud of her own bed in her own room, had crawled in with them.
She slept now, one hand on Benny’s chest, the other in his hair.
It was entirely adorable. And a very big step for their little girl who was used to being the center of the universe.
Yeah. Jamie didn’t sound too concerned. There are a lot of people around here to help her roll with that.
There were. This was the kind of stuff Witch Central was very, very good at.
Benny wiggled, moving closer to the powerful little heater also known as Kenna. Basking in her warmth. Nat breathed in the goodness. And dared to ask the question still niggling at the back of her mind. Do you think we need to be careful? There was still a mountain of paperwork and meetings to traverse before the outside world acknowledged the truth of what lay in their bed this morning.
No. Jamie’s big hand lightly smoothed two sleeping heads. I don’t think we could, even if we tried. Nothing will get in the way of this. His mindvoice firmed. And if it does, there are some people around here who will help with that, too.
Nat grinned. The bureaucratic machinery of Berkeley already had some experience with Witch Central on a mission this year. It had taken less than six months to turn Lizard and Trinity’s castle into an entirely legitimate enterprise, one with widespread support and good friends in a lot of really strange and high places.
What they could do for a rundown house full of teenage runaways, they could surely do for one small boy nobody wanted.
That’s not true. Jamie’s love was fierce as he looked down on Benny, starting to stir. We’ve wanted him for three-and-a-half years. It just took us a little while to find him.
The little boy’s eyes floated awake.
He’s still cautious, sent Jamie. But he knows where he is.
