An Unlikely Witch (10 page)

The bright, shiny courage across the table held very still.  And then quivered and glowed a little stronger.

Lauren resolutely squashed the naysayers in her head.  To hell with other reasons a senile old globe might have come out of retirement.  For now, she was just going to steadfastly believe it had decided to become the world’s earliest pregnancy test.

-o0o-

Dev sat down and waited for Jamie and Nell to settle.  It didn’t take long—he’d shared the bare details when he called them.

Lauren had texted.  Nat knew what the orb had said, and now it was time to tell the rest.

Not for comfort, although he hoped mightily that’s what it had been for his sister-in-law.  This was a council of war.

Nell stood over by the window, looking down at the innocent ball of glass that was throwing gasoline on an already raging fire.  “You’re positive we shouldn’t just send this thing to the moon?  Pretty sure I know the kid who can get it done.”

“It’s just the messenger,” said Jamie quietly.  “And I’m not sure what it has to say really changes anything.”

Nell met Dev’s eyes over the back of the couch.  That didn’t sound like a guy ready to do battle.  She walked forward, taking a casual seat on the coffee table in front of Jamie.  “It’s already changed things.  It got our attention.”  She glanced over at Devin, eyes grim.  “And maybe if we’d known sooner, Nat wouldn’t have been alone when crap hit.”

He didn’t miss the accusation in her tone.  Two of them had known, and they hadn’t shared.  Devin shrugged.  He had big shoulders, and he was damn well throwing them in front of anyone trying to point fingers at his wife—she wasn’t in much better shape than her best friend.  “We did what we thought was right.”

“It wasn’t your decision to make.  Nat’s a grown-up, not one of our kids.”

“Nobody said she wasn’t.”  Dev kept his voice low and as non-violent as he could.  “But how easily do you throw out words that will put your best friend into turmoil?  How come some oversized marble gets to decide what day Lauren has to wreck someone’s happiness?”  He had plenty of rage, but they needed to aim at the right target.

Whatever that was.

“Stop.”  Jamie’s voice cut through the words they were jabbing at each other instead of at the enemy nobody could see.  “We all make decisions like that every day.”  He swallowed.  “And if Moira’s little stunt out in the ocean had worked, staying quiet would have absolutely been the right call.”

Nell’s eyes narrowed.  “What stunt?”

Jamie shrugged, looking over at his brother.  “Ask him.  I just caught the barest hint of it.”

Crap.  “It was really awesome out there.  Nat was floating on her back thinking all this awesome womb-of-the-mother stuff, and we were all connected.  Moira added a blessing.  That’s all.”

“Damn.”  Nell’s eyes softened.  “She loves that little boy as much as any of us.”

Yeah.  Devin sucked in a harsh breath.  That was the real elephant in this room.  He looked at Jamie, letting everything he felt ride on his face.  He understood, better than anyone, how the ocean could toss the small things that dared to ride on its surface.  “I’m so freaking sorry.”

“Nat feels like a failure,” said Jamie, voice cracking into a hundred pieces.  “And I have no idea how to convince her she isn’t.” 

As a unit, Nell and Devin stormed the couch, bookended their brother and leaned in, doing their damnedest to take away even the tiniest part of what hurt him and the woman they both loved like a sister.

He took a breath.  “She’s doing better today.  This morning she disappeared to her studio for a couple of hours.”

Working through the pain.  Dev winced.  Smart, brave—and it killed his brother that she’d done it alone.

Jamie stared down at random patterns in the pillow under his elbow.  And then looked at the two of them, eyes full of pride.  “Then she went to Fisher’s Cove.  To see Moira and Sophie.”

Devin clenched his fists, aching for Nat—and holding tight to something he knew how to do.  One of their own had chosen to fight.  He looked at Nell and spoke for both of them.  “If they need anything.  Or if she does or you do.  Cookies.  Someone to distract Kenna.  My bottle-cap collection.”

Nell poked a finger in his ribs.  “I have a kitchen full of dirty dishes.”

He hit her with a pillow, mostly managing not to deck Jamie in the process.  “You have a house full of pesky children.  Don’t any of them have arms that work?”

She snorted.  “They’re too busy eating my cookies.  A bad habit they picked up from their uncles.”

They both eyed Jamie to see if their Stooges act was getting them anywhere.  He managed a smile.

It was a start.  The success of their comedy didn’t matter.  All that really mattered was that he saw the long line of people forming beside him and Nat.  Starting with the two of them in the room.

It would be a mile deep by sundown.

Chapter 8

Apparently, she was going to have a full kitchen today.  Moira looked up as Lauren blew through her back door.  “Good morning, and welcome.  Come have some tea with us.”

Her newest visitor raised an eyebrow at the one already sitting at her table.  “It’s the crack of dawn.  Why aren’t we all sleeping?”

Nell chuckled.  “I have five kids.  What’s your excuse?”

The same one that had all of them here at her table.  Moira poured another cup of her spicy Solstice blend and waited for Lauren to shrug out of her outer garments.  “You came to deliver Nat, I assume?”  Sophie had scheduled their first scanning session for today.

“Yeah.”  Lauren slid into a chair and made a face at the tea.  “She wanted to come alone and Jamie wanted to glue himself to her side.  It was the best deal we could come up with.”  She glanced over at Nell.  “Your brother has a hard head when he wants to.”

Moira hid a smile.  Nell had more than one brother who met that description.  “He’ll not want Nat to go through this alone.”  She sighed, her heart aching for the man who had once been a small, cuddly boy.  “And he’ll not understand just yet that she’ll need to walk some of this journey by herself.  There’s none lonelier.”

Nell’s foot scuffed the floor.  “It shouldn’t have to be.”

But it was, and Nat didn’t need the combined weight of the Sullivan warriors trying to convince her otherwise.  “We all have our things to bear alone.  For all the support and love you have, no one else knows what it is to be Aervyn’s mother.  There is a piece of that you hold alone and always will.”

Denial flashed in Nell’s eyes.  And then as Moira watched, truth landed behind it.  Followed by empathy.  And then, after a long pause—gratitude.  She reached forward, taking the warrior witch’s hands in her own.  “Did you think no one knew, lovely one?”

Strong blue eyes met hers and managed a smile.  “Daniel knows.”

Nell’s husband was a marvel.  “Of course he does.  But he’s not the only one.  And for as long as my kitchen is here, you will have a place to come when the loneliness of what you carry gets too much.”

Lauren shifted on the other side of the table.

Moira let her be.  It was important that she listen.  Her time would come, both to bear the loneliness and to heal it at her own table.  But that day wasn’t yet.

Nell nodded almost imperceptibly.  Acknowledging many things.

Moira smiled.  There were those who thought their warrior witch wore her strength on the outside.  Far fewer knew of the layers of quiet courage underneath, or how well she saw what was true.  Aervyn had chosen his parents so very wisely.

“Nat knows how to walk alone.”  Quiet fury stormed in Lauren’s eyes.  “She did it every day she lived in her parents’ home.  She shouldn’t have to do it again.”

So young yet.  Moira shifted her gaze, preparing yet another light dusting of truth for the woman who would one day walk in the matriarch’s shoes.  “Walking alone isn’t your journey, my dear.  But it has been Natalia’s, and perhaps she isn’t entirely done with it yet.”  Which didn’t sit entirely well on an old witch’s bones either, but Moira had learned a little about railing at the fates.  “You are both magnificent witches, and lovely souls.  Nat is very fortunate to have you for friends.”

Two sets of eyebrows rose.

She chuckled.  And finished what she had to say.  “She will need you.  But pick your battles wisely.  They’re not all meant to be won.  And not all yours to fight.”

Lessons a certain Irish granny needed to remember more than most.

-o0o-

Nat settled into Sophie’s couch, remembering all too well the last time she’d done this.  It had been exactly this time of year, the room had smelled of the same light blend of vanilla and citrus, and she’d been as big and ungainly as a house.  As she recalled, she hadn’t let Jamie come that day either.  Which had been a mistake—it had taken three people to extract her pregnant self from the very squooshy seat.

That wouldn’t be a problem today.

The healer reached out a gentle hand.  “We can do this somewhere else if you like.”

“No.”  The answer came easily.  “This is where you work.”  And there were good memories here, too.  The first time she’d put on a stethoscope and heard Kenna’s heartbeat.  The bladder-jiggling laughter when her unborn daughter had kicked a plate of rich, chocolatey brownies off her belly.  The first trip she’d made together with her tiny baby girl in the cold days of January—and they’d both promptly fallen asleep curled up under a blanket on the couch.

Sophie’s hands were already moving in the gentle patterns of a healer’s scan.  “This is just a quick look—we’ll dive a little deeper over the next few days.”  She frowned.  “Did you skip breakfast?”

Nat grinned.  “Memo passed you by, huh?  Nobody comes to Fisher’s Cove with a full belly anymore.  I’ll detour past Aaron’s kitchen when we’re done.  He’s got some clam chowder waiting for me—Jamie’s already drooling.”  And deeply concerned, which they had both tried to ignore.  Their marriage was built on very solid earth, but this issue lived at the very heart of who they were.  They’d fallen in love over visions of a small boy and a snowman and the shiny red bow he’d been on the promise of their life together.  

Sophie’s hands stopped moving.  “See if you can snag some of his meatballs, too.  They’re nice and spicy—Kenna will like them.”

Feeding a fire witchling was such a strange experience.  “She ate a bowlful of Thai curry a couple of nights ago that was hot enough to make my nose run.”

“Take my advice.”  Sophie grinned.  “Don’t try to keep up with them.  I did one summer—tried to eat everything Nell and Jamie and Govin did.  It took my stomach six months to forgive me.”

Hence why they were having clam chowder tonight.  Nat stretched out, feeling a little less weirded out by the déjà vu of Sophie’s home office.  Candles flickered in the window, outshining the still-dim light from outside.  “Moira said you’d want to know about my cycles.”

Sophie laughed.  “She’d start with asking about your sex life, but we can start with your cycles if you want.”

All normal—Nat had spent enough time with Google and her own insides to know the problem wasn’t something nearly that simple.  She walked Sophie through the details, glad Jamie wasn’t there squirming beside her.  And finished with a helpless shrug.  “I know it really hasn’t been that long.”  The tales on the Internet of years of infertility had battered her heart. 

So many in love with babies who didn’t exist yet.

“It’s been more than a year since you resumed normal cycles, and nine months since Kenna stopped nursing.”  Sophie was still making quick notes on her laptop.  “Fertility can be a fickle thing, and being patient isn’t always the right answer.”

It had been, for so much of her life.  Nat felt her hands gripping each other.  Nerves, as she tiptoed into the heart of why she was here.  They’d been waiting far longer than a year.  “I’m not sure fertility’s the problem.”  Magic could be harsh—even cruel, perhaps.  And the mysteries of the universe were larger than one man and one woman and the small boy they’d gazed on for mere moments.  “Maybe this just isn’t meant to happen.”

Sophie’s eyes were full of kindness—and an empathy that came from experience walking hard and solitary footsteps.  “First steps first.  We’ll take a look.  If nothing else, you’ll leave with some clam chowder and some of Lizzie’s new cookie concoction.”

Nat felt the giggle escape—Fisher’s Cove’s youngest healer did not have her talent’s usual touch in the kitchen.  “Still endangering Aaron’s domain, is she?”

Sophie grinned.  “He says it has more to do with her general unwillingness to follow directions.  Apparently she thinks recipes are for lesser mortals.”

Nat lived with a small child who would likely fit that description in a few years.  She would take some of Lizzie’s baking.  “Sullivans eat pretty much anything that resembles a cookie.”  With the exception of her own very short-lived attempts to make ones with nuts and whole grains.  She’d married into a clan with a very strange aversion to anything healthy.

It was nutrition of the emotional kind they excelled at.

“We’re not going to have an answer today,” said Sophie quietly, holding her hands out again.  “If we’re lucky, we’ll have a guess or two.”