by A. L. Knorr
“Did your parents ever read you kids stories about a family of talking bears?” Lachlan leaned into one hip and stretched out his side.
I brightened and nodded. “Someone gave me a bunch as a birthday present when I was kid. They were supposed to be collectors’ items but I actually loved the stories.”
Lachlan nodded. “They were super popular. Do you remember the bears’ last name?”
I snapped my fingers, my mind skipping on its wheels. “Bear-something. It’s on the tip of my tongue. Bera… Berenstein!” I said triumphantly. “I haven’t thought about those stories in years.”
Lachlan nodded. “But they were never called Berenstein. They were always The Berenstain Bears.”
“What? No, they weren’t. I remember the name clearly. I would bet on it.”
“Or do you?” Lachlan’s eyebrow crooked and he stretched his other side. “Why don’t you look it up and you let me know what you find? You’re not the only one who swears that they were called Berenstein.”
I got the point.
“Yeah, so anyway…” Jasher screwed the cap back on the jug. “We think the four of us are misremembering just how big this bloody thorn bush was. We could all swear that it grew overnight, and not just by a few inches, by…a lot.” Jasher shot me a meaningful look. “And, not to change the subject, but might I have a word?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
I wanted to talk to Jasher privately, too.
We stepped out of hearing range while the men went back to their work. Jasher put a soft grip on my elbow and leaned close, lowering his voice.
“I wasn’t going to ask you this, but do you think you could do some of your magic and root out this shrub for us? I didn’t build days into the schedule to deal with it, and Gavin is disappointed that we’ve fallen behind.”
“That’s the thing, Jasher.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “I did. Last night, while everyone was asleep, I came out here in my pj’s and made it much smaller.”
Jasher stared at me, unimpressed. “Did your powers break when you left Ireland or something? Because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it didn’t work.”
I gave him a withering glare. “Of course, I noticed. I stood in the trees in shock for like a full minute.”
“So, what happened?”
“I don’t know! I watched it shrink and then I went to bed. I was surprised when you didn’t pop by while I was studying this morning to say thank you.”
Jasher leaned back and gave a sarcastic laugh. “Thank you? Did you think it was opposite day?”
He was making light of it, but unease had wormed its way into my heart. “Jasher, it’s not funny. Either something is wrong with that bush, or there’s something wrong with my powers. I swear, last night after I was done with it, it was half that size.”
We heard Lachlan make a cry of pain and loose a stream of cusswords that made Will and Thomas both laugh.
Jasher and I stopped our conspiratorial whisper-fest to return to the glade.
“You okay?” I called.
Lachlan was cradling one hand but gave a dismissive nod. At least he had a kind of smile on his face. “I swear, the blasted thing reached out and stabbed me.” A thin stream of blood dripped from his hand and onto the ground. He inspected the wound. “It’s a deep one.”
“Let me see.” I picking my way around heaps of discarded thorny branches to Lachlan.
“It’s nothing.” But he held his hand out for me to see.
Dark blood welled from a thick, round hole in the fleshy mound of his thumb. “That really is deep. Let me run up to the castle and get you some antiseptic and a bandage.”
“Dinna fash. It’s just a wee cut. I’m fine. I always was a baby when it comes to pain.” Lachlan’s cheeks were bright with embarrassment and he glanced at the other guys and pulled his hand away. It was then that I realized that Jasher and Will were staring at us with smirks on their faces.
“It’ll only take me a minute.” I turned away to go back to the castle and rolled my eyes at Jasher. “You’re so immature.”
But it wasn’t Lachlan’s cut that was on my mind as I returned to Blackmouth Castle. My powers hadn’t worked. It was worse than that. They’d backfired.
I tracked down Ainslie where she was rooting around under the stairs and filling a bucket with cleaning products and tools. She told me I could find the first aid kit in the cupboard over the fridge. Retrieving it, I scampered back down to the site.
The men barely looked up from their work as Lachlan set his clippers beside the water jug and held out his bloody hand for aid.
“Sweet of you,” he murmured.
I smiled and took his hand and used peroxide to swab at the wound.
Lachlan watched quietly, his gaze on my face. He tilted his head close to mine. I looked up for a second and my breath caught at how close our faces were. I could see the flecks of green in his blue eyes.
I took my time cleaning and dressing the wound to give me time to tune in to the roots below me and the millions of compounds at my beck and call. Drawing on nature’s healing power, I sent it into Lachlan’s body, up through his legs and torso and down his arm to his hand, where the wound was now hidden under a bandage.
“It tingles a bit,” Lachlan said, dreamily. “But it feels better already.” He caught my eye again. “Thank you.”
“Back to work, lovebird,” Jasher teased.
Lachlan flushed and shot me an awkward smile as he retrieved his clippers and went back to work. I realized with a little hitch in my heart that I was growing fond of that blush.
Later that afternoon, I had just packed up my laptop and schoolwork and was heading to my room to deposit it when I heard Lachlan calling me.
“I’m here!” I raised my voice as I deposited my laptop on my bed and made my way to the stairs.
I found him standing in the foyer wearing boots caked in mud. He smelled of wood and soil and his face gleamed with a light sheen of sweat.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Lachlan had his work hat crumpled in his hands. “We’re finished up for the day.”
“Good progress?”
“Some. That shrub is wicked resistant.” His throat moved as he swallowed. “I just wanted to say thank you. Whatever you did, well, it worked like magic.”
“Oh, you’re welcome.”
“Which—Fae or Wise?” he asked, his expression earnest.
My heart stopped. “Excuse me?”
His teeth flashed in a grin. “It’s a local expression. We ask it as a joke when someone does something extraordinary.” He bobbed his head. “As in––which one are you? A faerie or a witch?”
The skin on my entire body ran cold and the back of my neck prickled as the meaning behind the saying sank in.
“Wise is your word for witch?” Gooseflesh was crawling its way up my arms.
Lachlan nonchalantly put his cap back on his head. “Like I said, it’s one of those local colloquialisms.” His gaze grew studious as his eyes combed my face. “Are you all right, Georjie? Ye look like ye’ve seen a phantom.”
“I’m fine,” I replied weakly.
He relaxed. “Well, thanks again.” He raised his bandaged hand, all five fingers splayed. “I can’t even feel it anymore. Have a great night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome. Sure. Tomorrow,” I repeated, dazed.
The door closed behind him and I took a few wobbly steps back until I hit the stairs. Sinking onto the third step, I heaved a long exhale. Lachlan’s words replayed in my mind like a peal of bells on Sunday.
Which one are you? A faerie or a witch?
Chapter 6
I caught a whiff of floral perfume as someone entered the cafe and a gust of wind blew in. A low murmur of conversation hummed around me as I worked. When I’d moved from the parlor at the castle to a nearby cafe, my productivity had gone up. I liked the background noise.
Today there was also the
sound of children chanting a kind of rhyme from the street. Craning my neck to look out the open door, I saw girls playing jump-rope in the park across the road. One of them was Maisie, I recognized her red hair. It was the same color as Bonnie’s. I tried to catch the words of their chant as it kept time with the jumper.
“Bake her down, steal her magic and wear her crown,” the girls sang. My blood froze as they took a pause and started again. “Witch or Wise, loose your cries-“
“Hello, Georjie,” a soft voice said from beside me.
I jumped and did a quick half-turn to see a pair of familiar dark brown eyes.
“Hi, Evelyn.” I glanced out the window at the girls but the words of their chant were lost to me as the door to the café closed. I made a note to ask Maisie about it when I saw her back at the castle.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.
I cleared my throat and relaxed on my seat. “Coming in for a fix?”
“I’m a self-admitted addict.” She perched on the empty stool beside me and peered at the screen. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”
I swallowed and gave her a smile. “I’m okay, thanks.”
“What are you working on?”
“A history paper.” My gaze caught on her unusual jacket. It was dark green with a high-to-low hem. The wool was cinched in at the waist with a belt emphasizing her tiny ribcage and the flare of her hips. “Cute jacket.”
“Thanks.” She leaned one elbow on the table, her brown curls swaying. “I’ve never seen you working here before.”
“I needed a change from the castle. I like the energy, you know? The buzz of other people around me going about their day.” I closed my laptop, hoping she’d take it as a signal to stay and chat for a few minutes. I had been all keen to research the French Revolution up until Lachlan had made that comment the night before. Now all I wanted to do was raid the library and internet for local ‘colloquialisms.’ I had promised myself I would once I got my history assignment finished.
“I know what you mean.” Evelyn pulled the cloth bag hanging from her shoulder open, revealing the tablet inside. “I like coming to work here, too. My office feels like a vacuum. I like the hum of conversation, the endless supply of caffeine.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m an architectural tech, which is not nearly as sexy as being an architect.” She gave me a crafty look from under long lashes. “We do the grunt work and the architects get the glory, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Sounds very… mathy.”
“Yeah, it is. But the job I’m on now isn’t that complicated. I’m doing up the plans for Gavin’s new holiday cottage.”
My brows shot up. “That’s cool. Is that how you and Jasher met?”
“Yes, actually.” She assessed me. “Good guess.”
I shot her a friendly side-eye. “You kids seem to fancy each other something fierce.” To my initial horror, it came out with a heavy Scottish accent. I put my fingers to my lips as my face flushed, worried she might think I was poking fun at her. I didn’t know her that well. “Ohmygosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that disrespectfully.”
Evelyn loosed a peal of laughter that had a few other patrons looking up and smiling. “Relax, Georjie.”
I smiled with relief. “We Canadians have a reputation for being exceedingly polite. They might not let me back into the country if I tarnish it.”
She waved a hand. “To your question, I’m crazy about Jasher. I’ll just put it right out there in open.”
“Does he feel the same way about you?”
Her face took on a dreamy cast. “I think so, but sometimes I’m not sure. He can run a bit hot and cold, you know?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I do. He froze me out for weeks when we met.”
Her big brown eyes widened. She reminded me of a newborn filly, so alert, so attentive. “I’m glad to see he’s stopped that nonsense. Especially after what you did for him.”
The smile froze on my face. “What do you mean?”
“You know.” She did the looking around thing again and lowered her voice. “After you helped him with the ghost thing.”
The room tilted. I rubbed my fingers over my eyes to buy a second to figure out how to react. “He told you about that?”
“Sure, I mean…it’s why he’s here, isn’t it?”
“It is?”
“Now that he’s not worried about being haunted, he wants to travel the world.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes.” That was true. I was still spinning over the fact that Jasher had told her something so immensely personal, something most people wouldn’t have even believed.
She was going on. “I can’t imagine what life would have been like for him before, seeing spooks all over the place. It’s no wonder he didn’t want to leave home.”
I gaped at her in wonder.
She finally noticed my shock. “What?”
I took a swig of my coffee to bolster my nerve. “It’s just…Jasher is an intensely private person. He doesn’t tell people about his past trauma.”
“I know.” She rolled her eyes with understanding. “I’m lucky he came out of his shell. The booze helped, if I’m really honest. Once he opened the tap, whoosh! I mean, the lad wouldn’t shut up!”
Feeling cool, I fished my cardigan out of my bag and pulled it on. So I wasn’t the only one who’d taken note. I hadn’t said anything to Jasher about it because I wasn’t sure what was normal any more. “Has it been a problem?”
“The drinking?” She considered the question. “He says he never drank while in Ireland. And here, it’s like he’s trying to play catch up. Like he’s trying to reclaim some of his lost youth. I’m sure he’ll grow tired of it. Maybe he just needs to have the freedom to get a few hangovers. They’ll convince him it’s not a wise activity for the long term.”
“You think so?”
“I really do.” She put a hand on my arm. “You worried?”
“Only a little. I never saw him drink, so I was surprised the other night.” I caught her eye. “Shall we just agree to…watch him?” Recoiling a little at my own words, I added. “Sorry, that sounds a bit stalkery. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know, and yes. Let’s just keep an eye.” She set her bag on the counter and rubbed her shoulder where the strap had been. “I’ve got a few alkies in my family. Thankfully, Jasher doesn’t show any signs of that.”
“Alkies?”
“Alcoholics.”
“Oh.”
“The only defense an alcoholic has is to never take the first drink. Once they do that, they’re doomed. They won’t stop until they black out unless someone interferes. Jasher doesn’t do that. He might have had a little too much from time to time, but I’ve never seen him get really sloppy, or pass out. My father drank himself to death. I swore I’d never let that happen to anyone else I loved.”
I fell speechless after this monologue. There was so much there to unpack that I didn’t know where to start. She’d spoken about her father like she was commenting on the view, and I had not missed the part where she essentially admitted to loving Jasher. The silence dragged as I searched for an appropriate response.
She saved me from having to come up with one. “What about your folks?”
I blinked at finding myself in the crosshairs. “My parents?”
“Yeah, are they around? You get along?”
I blew out a breath. Her earnest vulnerability had shattered my defenses. Part of me wanted to lay my head on her shoulder and cry at the way she’d divulged so much in so little time. This woman had no armoring, no emotional shields or guile. It was disarming, and I found myself warming to her because of it.
“I got along really well with my mom when I was little. But when my dad left and she got promoted, we grew apart. We’re repairing things, but I doubt we’ll ever be besties.”
She put a hand over her heart. Her luminous eyes filled with sadness, shining with uns
hed tears. “I’m so sorry. When did your father leave?”
“I was five.” I swallowed down a lump in my throat. Damn her empathy. It was like she was feeling all the emotions attached to my story and it was bringing stuff to the surface. “At first, he started canceling our play-dates. Eventually, he stopped coming around all together. Then one day…” I was surprised when my throat closed up as I fought back tears. I never cried over my father anymore. I never even thought about him anymore. Well, hardly ever.
“One day, what?” Evelyn gently prodded.
“One day he left a note. Just a scrap of paper. It had a phone number and, well…” I rifled through my bag for my phone. Showing her would say more than I ever could.
I plucked the folded scrap from a pocket inside my wallet and handed it to her. “I keep meaning to throw it out. I guess I keep it to remind myself that I had a dad once, but he was never worthy.”
She took the note and gazed at it. “Oh, Georjie.” She looked up and I felt like I was bathing in compassion as it poured from her eyes. “For emergencies?”
I nodded. “He might as well have written ‘Don’t call me’ and not bothered giving us his new cell number.”
She handed the note back to me. “Have you ever called it?”
A hot rush of indignation flushed my cheeks. “I wouldn’t ask him for help if he was the last man on earth.”
“Except that you haven’t thrown it out,” she replied softly.
Wanting not only to change the subject but tap into a local’s knowledge, I asked on inspiration, “Do you know the saying: Which, Fae or Wise?”
She took a second. “So we’re done talking about your dad, then? Sorry, just trying to keep up.”
In answer I shoved the note into my pocket.
“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, I have heard it. It’s a way of complimenting someone when they’ve done something that’s hard to do. Why? Did someone say it to you?”
I nodded. “Lachlan, after I bandaged a wound for him.”
Concern wrinkled her brow. “Lachlan was hurt?”
I laughed. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a scratch from your not so friendly neighborhood thorn bush.”
