The Root of All Trouble (30 page)

Sometimes looking ahead meant not looking behind you
.

Reluctantly, I shook.
"The things I do for you."

He kept chuckling as he walked away.

Kevin came up behind me. "What was that all about?"

"
A deal with the devil," I muttered, pulling a cold beer out of a tin bucket for him, and a Dr Pepper for me. As much as I wanted something harder, I was still taking medication for the concussion.

Next to me, I felt Kevin straighten.
"Nina?"

"
Yeah?" I popped the top on the can and slurped my way around the edge.

"
You sure you didn't have plans with the coroner guy?"

I sighed.
"Look, you have to stop bringing him up, your jealousy's making me cranky. You don't understand what's going—"

I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Nina?"

Kevin
's lips tightened in smugness.

Slowly, I turned. Cain Monahan stood behind me. I coughed a little, liquid caught in my throat.

Kevin thumped my back—a little harder than necessary, I thought.

Cain said,
"Sorry to interrupt. Can I talk to you for a second?"

Glancing at Kevin out of the corner of my eye, I could feel the heat in my che
eks.

"
Why don't you tell me what's going on then?" Kevin asked softly.

I ground my teeth. Suddenly my deal with Mr. Cabrera felt quite daunting.
"Second chances," I muttered.

Kevin leaned in.
"What was that?"

"
I'm sorry," Cain said, glancing between us. "I can come back later."

"
No," I said to him. "Now's fine." I jabbed Kevin's chest. "I'll talk to you later."

He caught my hand and stared into my eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere, Nina. I'm here to stay."

My heart hammered.
"I figured."

Giving a curt nod, he walked away.

Cain said, "Is he always that intense?"

"
No. Sometimes, he's worse."

Cain smiled, and my heart melted at the familiarity of it.

He said, "He seems rather...attached to you."

I didn
't really want to think about Kevin right now. I walked over to a quieter corner of the yard. Cain followed. I said, "You wanted to talk to me?"

His brown eyes looked black in the dim lighting, but the flecks of gold flashed.
"I feel strange even coming to you, but..."

"
What?" I asked, letting him lead.

"
Look, I'm just going to lay it on the line, okay?"

"
Lay away."

The skin on his brow wrinkled as he frowned deeply, his eyebrows dipping, his lips pulling low. His gaze met mine dead on. The darkness couldn
't mask the emotion I saw flickering in the depths.

"
I don't know who I am," he said, his voice shaking. "But I have the feeling you do."

A lump formed in my throat, and I bit the inside of my cheek.
"Do I know you? I do. You're a ghost. A memory. A miracle. The ultimate second chance. And you've been dead for twenty years."

He blinked, and confusion clouded his eyes.

I linked arms with him. "Let's go for a walk, and I'll tell you all about a boy I used to know."

As we headed for the street, the beat of the music pulsated through the air and thrummed through my body. Yes, this party was about life. The living. The
good
.

"
It's good to be alive, isn't it?" I said to him.

He tipped his head in the way I used to know so well.
"You're a little strange, aren't you, Bo-bina?"

I laughed.
"You used to know exactly how much. But now... Now you're going to learn all over again."

I
'd lost him once and I wasn't going to let it happen a second time.

Moonlight lit the street as we wandered along.
"Seth. You're name is Seth..."

From the Desk of Nina Quinn

Did you know that over the past few years outdoor fire features have become one of the most requested designs in a landscape? If you're longing for one, a fire pit is the perfect weekend project to tackle if you're a do-it-yourselfer. However, there are a few things to keep in mind before adding a fire pit to your backyard design.

It's a Material World

Fire pits can be as simple or complex as you desire. Your design will depend on a few factors including time, cost, and space. The go-to fire pit I use in my designs is almost always a simple metal bowl surrounded by a round or square decorative wall of brick or flagstone—materials found easily at your local garden center. Constructed much like a retaining wall, the surround is usually four to five courses of stone topped with capstone. A mallet, a level, a shovel, some landscape caulk or mortar, and you're well on your way to getting the job done. Throw in some logs and you'll be making s'mores in no time at all.

If you're looking for a fancier design, consider creating a gas fire pit using propane. It's a little more technical (plans are often available at your local garden center), but the use of decorative colored tumbled glass or lava rocks surrounding the flame ring looks spectacular.

Easy Does It

If you're looking for a quick and easy fix, check your local home store. Most sell freestanding fire pits (including gas pits), fire bowls, chimineas, and also prefab stone fire pit and fireplace kits. Prices vary to fit every budget.

Safety First

Safety is of the highest importance for any project. First things first, make sure you check your town or city codes. Some do not allow fire features due to the risk of wildfires and/or pollution concerns. While there, also check to see if you need a permit to construct a fire pit in your back yard. You don't want to put all the work into your project only to be told it needs to be torn down. Be sure to "Call before you dig" to check for underground electrical and gas lines. For the actual site of your feature, consider how the wind blows and keep your fire pit at least ten feet from flammable structures and always keep a hose or bucket of water handy in case your flames get out of control. Oh, and make sure none of the materials you use are combustible. River stones, for example, will explode when heated and never use pressure treated wood in your fire pit because it releases a toxin when burned.

Soon you'll be sitting in your yard, enjoying the results of your hard work. Alluring wood smoke and crackling flames will set the perfect back drop for a night of entertaining friends or a cozy night snuggled up with a loved one. Save me a s'more.

Best wishes for happy gardening!

About the Author:

Heather Webber (aka Heather Blake) is the author of
more than a dozen novels. She's a Dr Pepper enthusiast, total homebody who loves to be close to her family, read, watch Reality TV (totally addicted, especially to competition shows), crochet, occasionally leave the house to hike the beautiful mountains in the northeast, and bakes (mostly cookies). Heather grew up in a suburb of
Boston, but she c
urrently lives in the
Cincinnati
area with her family.

www.heatherwebber.com

www.heatherblakebooks.com

Other books by Heather:

As Heather Webber:

The Nina Quinn Mystery Series

A Hoe Lot of T
rouble

Trouble in Spades

Digging up Trouble

Trouble in Bloom

Weeding out Trouble

Trouble Under the Tree

The Root of all Trouble

The Lucy Valentine Novels

(romantic mysteries)

Truly, Madly

Deeply, Desperately

Absolutely, Positively

Perfectly Matched

The River of Dreams Historical Romances

Surrender, My Love

Secrets of the Heart

Hearts are Wild

As Heather Blake

The Wishcraft Mysteries

It Takes a Witch

A Witch Before Dying

The Good, the Bad, and the Witchy

The Magic Potion Mysteries

A Potion to Die For

Heather Blake’s new Magic Potion series,

A Potion to Die For

Coming in November
2013 from Obsidian

I
f there were a Wanted poster for witches, I was sure my freckled face would be on it.

Ducking behind a tree to catch my breath, I sucked in a deep lungful of humid air as I listened to the cries of the search party.

I didn’t have much time before the frenzied mob turned the corner and spotted me, but I needed to take a rest or risk keeling over in the street.

It was times like these that I wished I was the kind of witch who had a broomstick. Then I could just fly off, safe and sound, and wouldn’t be hiding behind a live oak, my hair sticking to its bark while my lungs were on fire.

But
noooo
. I had to be a healing witch from a long line of hoodoo practitioners (and one rogue voodoo-er, but no need to go into that this very moment). I was a love potion expert, matchmaker, all- around relationship guru, and an unlikely medicine woman.

Fat lot of good all that did me right now.

In fact, my magic potions were why I was in this predicament in the first place.

I’d bet my life savings (which, admittedly, wasn’t much) that my archnemesis, Delia Bell Barrows, had a broomstick. And though I had never before been envious of the black witch, I was feeling a stab of jealousy now.

Quickly glancing around, I suddenly hoped Delia lurked somewhere nearby—something she had been doing a lot of lately. I’d been trying my best to avoid a confrontation with her, but if she had a broomstick handy—and was willing to loan it to me— would be more than willing to talk.

There were some things worth compromising principles for, obviously. Like a rabid mob.

But the brick- paved road, lined on both sides with tall shade trees, was deserted. If Delia was around, she had a good hiding spot. Smart, because there was a witch hunt going on in the streets of Hitching Post, Alabama.

And I, Carly Hartwell, was the hunted witch.

Again.

This really had to stop.

Pushing off from the tree, I spared a glance behind me before running at a dead sprint through the center of town toward my shop, Little Shop of Potions, with the mob hot on my heels. The storefront was painted a dark purple with lavender trim, and the name of the shop was written in bold curlicue letters on the large picture window. Underneath was the shop’s tagline: mind, body, heart, and soul. Behind the glass, several vignettes featuring antique glass jars, mortar and pestles, apothecary scales and weights I’d collected over the years filled the big display space.

At this point I should have felt nothing but utter relief. I was almost there. So . . . close.

But instead of relief, a new panic arose.

Because standing in front of my door was none other than Delia.

I could hardly believe it. Now she shows up.

I grabbed the store key and held it at the ready. “Out of the way, Delia!”

Delia stood firm, neck to toe in black—from her cape to her toenails, which stuck out from a pair of black patent flip- flops that had a skull- and- crossbones decoration. A little black dog, tucked into a basket like Toto, barked.

The dog was new. The cape, all the black, and the skull- and- crossbones fascination was not.

“I need to talk to you, Carly,” Delia said. “Right now.”

I hip checked Delia out of the way, and the dog yapped. Sticking the key into the lock, I said, “You’re going to have to wait. Like everyone else.” I threw a nod over my shoulder.

The crowd, at least forty strong, bore down.

Delia let out a gasp. “Did Mr. Dunwoody give a forecast this morning?”

“Yes.” The lock tumbled, and I pushed open the door and scooted inside. Much to my dismay, Delia snuck in behind me.