by Cindy Stark
“Had breakfast yet?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to wake my mother.”
“Come with me. I’ll scramble you some eggs.”
She let him lead her into the kitchen where they threw together a feast of scrambled eggs with cheese melted on top, wheat toast with butter and raspberry jam, and two mugs of Majestic Morning tea.
She sat at the table and grinned. “This is fantastic. Can I expect this every morning?”
He snorted. “Maybe not every morning, but I’d love it if we could cook together and share breakfast before the crazy day kicks in.”
“I’d like that, too.”
“Want to hear about the case?”
It was her turn to snort. “Are you kidding? I can’t think of a better distraction.”
He eyed her with a level look. “My guys are arresting Eddy today. Initial autopsy results show traces of pain narcotics were found in John’s body, leading us to believe it was likely murder. Eddy definitely had motive, he’s had several prescriptions for those exact pain killers in the past two years, and his prints were on the hose and the SUV.”
She ate some of the cheesy eggs and pondered his words for a moment. “Have you cleared Susan, then?”
Peter shrugged. “I wouldn’t say we’ve cleared her, but we definitely have a stronger case against Eddy.”
“Why? Susan could have just as easily lured him to the pond, given him something to make him pass out, and then killed him.”
He reassured her with a nod. “I understand what you’re saying, Hazel. But you also have to consider Susan’s and Eddy’s actions when we interacted with them. Susan was shocked to hear of her husband’s death. Eddy, not so much.”
She folded her arms, not convinced. “People can be very good actors, you know.”
He bit into his toast and studied her while he chewed. She could practically see the wheels turning in his brain. “We’re going to arrest him and formally question him. We’ll see what happens. Not every case can be as solid as the ones you’ve helped with. He might very well break under questioning.”
She blinked several times. “But you’re not going to prosecute if you don’t have anything more solid, are you?”
He reached over, took her hand, and squeezed. “Do you think I would put an innocent man behind bars?”
She shook her head and lifted her teacup. “No. You’re not that kind of person.”
“Okay, then. Let the justice process play out. We’ll put a little pressure on him and see what happens. I’m hoping to have a suspect behind bars before our wedding tomorrow.”
If he didn’t, she might well have a distracted groom. “I hope so, too.”
She glanced at the clock on the stove. “I should get home. I need to be there before my mother wakes up and wreaks havoc on the world. She can’t be trusted.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure she’s not that bad.”
Hazel widened her eyes. “You have no idea. My best advice…if you encounter a fifty-two-year-old woman with midnight hair that looks like she might eat you, run.”
He stood and helped her slide back her chair. “I promise I’ll be careful. But honestly, I’d really like to meet the woman. She can’t be all bad if she raised a wonderful witch like you.”
She gave him a sad shake of her head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
****
Hazel pedaled back to her house as fast as she could with the full morning sun raining down on her back. Likely, her mother was still in bed since it wasn’t noon, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
She carefully opened the front door and then stopped dead in her tracks.
Her mother sat in Hazel’s favorite chair, Mr. Kitty happily loafing on her lap, with Clarabelle’s spell book wide open in her mother’s hands.
Dread washed over her in waves. “What are you doing?”
Her mother blinked eyes that were already fully lashed. “Just a little early morning reading. I found this book in your room. Didn’t think you would mind.”
Hazel closed the door with a slam and strode forward. She eyed Mr. Kitty with a nasty look. “I thought I told you to watch her.”
He stood, stretched, and then wandered off as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
Betrayal burned through her, and she focused the emotion on her mother. She pulled the book from her hands and snapped it closed. “You didn’t find this book. You snooped, likely through all of my things.”
Her mother waved a nonchalant hand. “Oh, darling. There shouldn’t be any secrets between a daughter and her mother.”
She stood, walked toward Hazel, and booped her on the nose with a red-nailed fingertip. She continued toward the kitchen, speaking over her shoulder. “Though I do have to say that the concealing spell you placed on the book was more like a homing beacon, and your witchy supplies are sadly lacking.”
Hazel stood, dumbfounded, and breathed until she could find her voice again. She strode into the kitchen and placed her hand on the refrigerator door before her Mother could open it. “You are a guest in this house, Mother. Act like it. Or better yet, go home.”
Josephine rounded on her, all traces of friendliness gone from her eyes. “I am here for you, Hazel. Not me. I’m trying very hard not to be hurt because you excluded me from your wedding, which we both know that you did.”
Hazel opened her mouth, but her mother spoke again before she could. “You’re not giving serious consideration to the man you’re choosing to wed or the prophecy.”
“Of course, I am. I’m marrying Peter. He will be the one to help me.”
Her mother shook her head, disappointed. “I don’t understand how the prophecy could pick you. You are far too innocent and trusting. Do you know that Clarabelle was betrayed by one of her own? Do you know that the same thing will happen again before the town is healed?”
For the second time that morning, Hazel stood speechless. She dropped into a chair at the table. Her hand knocked the edge of a teacup, causing her mother’s unfinished tea to spill. Hazel ignored it. “How do you know this?” she asked in a quiet voice that belied her thundering heart.
Josephine shrugged. “It’s our family history. Of course, I know it.”
Her ire neared explosion. “Then my second question would be, why don’t I? Why have you never spoken of this, of Clarabelle? How could you keep it from me?”
Josephine huffed in defense. “Because I didn’t believe you’d be the one. I thought it would be me, and it wasn’t. Then you came along, but you were far too naïve and senseless. How could someone like you have enough power to heal a town ripped apart by hatred and misunderstanding? Yes, you certainly have the generous heart that is required, but your magic is far less than powerful.”
Hazel fought to find words to string together but could only shake her head.
A hint of concern and perhaps guilt struck Josephine’s once-flawless features. “I figured the person who could accomplish this would be your child. I figured there was no need to concern you with any of this. I would teach her.”
Her mother’s words rekindled the low-burning flame. “I’m not weak, Mother. Up until I came to Stonebridge, I was uneducated. That was your fault.”
A shocked look blossomed on her mother’s face. She placed a hand beneath her throat. “You want to blame me?”
“Yes.” The word flew from her mouth. “I could have been practicing all this time, learning what it would take. Instead, I’ve had to bumble about on my own, and I’m darned lucky that I haven’t been discovered to be a witch, or poor Stonebridge would be waiting another hundred years.”
This seemed to astonish Josephine further, and her mother joined her at the table. “I don’t know why you came here in the first place when it’s so dangerous.”
She threw her hands up in frustration. “Because I was compelled to. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”
Josephine’s face blanched. “You hate me.”
Hazel sea
rched her mother’s eyes, and for the first time felt pity. “I don’t hate you, but you could have made my life so much easier.”
“I was trying to do the right thing.”
“The right thing for you.”
“Is it wrong that I didn’t want my child to encounter such danger?”
Hazel snorted. “Oh, please, Mother. Don’t go there. We both know that’s not the reason. You just stated so. There’s no sense trying to go back now.”
Josephine blinked several times, and Hazel thought she might have spied moisture in her eyes. “What do we do now?”
Hazel widened incredulous eyes. “You don’t do anything. I’m marrying Peter like I’d originally planned. If you can behave yourself, you may come to the wedding, play mother of the bride, and enjoy the spotlight.”
Her mom sniffed.
Hazel stood. She couldn’t take another emotional outburst from Josephine. She gathered her mother’s teacup and took it to the sink, then grabbed a dishcloth to wipe the spill on the table.
She opened the dishcloth to lay it across the spill, but the woven cotton slipped from her fingers and onto the floor.
Her mother’s gasp echoed throughout the room and startled Hazel. Her heart thudded against her chest, and she jerked her gaze to Josephine. “What’s wrong?”
Josephine stared at the dishrag on the floor. “You dropped it.”
“So?”
She shook her head and met Hazel’s gaze. “Bad luck is coming.”
Hazel ground her teeth together. “Stop it. Stop trying to scare me into what you want me to do.”
Josephine looked appalled. “I wasn’t. Dropping a dishcloth is a true bad luck omen. Research it. You’re in grave danger, Hazel. All the signs are here. You need the right man by your side. One with power. I know you love Peter, but you need Victor.”
She shook her head firmly. “Peter loves and cares about the town. I think you underestimate the power in that. For Victor, marrying me is only a status symbol. He doesn’t love me.”
The ringing of the doorbell interrupted their heated discussion, and Hazel was grateful for the distraction. As she strode to the door, she reminded herself to be careful around her mother. The woman had always had a way of pushing her buttons and skewing things in her favor. The less time she spent around her, the better.
Hazel opened the door to find Victor and a woman her mother’s age with flowing dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. She glanced between the two and caught the resemblance. “Victor? What are you doing here?”
Josephine pushed past her. “Rowena. I’m so happy you’re here. Come in. Come in, both of you. Perhaps you can help me talk some sense into my daughter.”
Hazel dropped her jaw as they stepped forward.
Victor paused to place a kiss on her cheek and then winked. “Goddess,” he said in greeting, looking as though he’d won the lottery.
No, this was not happening. “Stop,” she shouted and turned to her mother with a glare. “What is this?”
Her mother’s red lips turned into a placating smile. “Why, an intervention, of course. Darling, you need to see reason. Who better to help me than your future husband and mother-in-law?”
She covered her face with her hands and started laughing. When she looked up, they regarded her as though she’d lost her mind. Perhaps, she had.
Rowena glanced to Josephine. “You want my son to marry this?”
Her mother gave a firm nod. “I know she doesn’t look like it, but she’s the one. The prophecy has spoken.”
Hazel could take no more. “Enough.”
Her word vibrated through the house. “I want you to leave.”
She focused on her mother, energy suddenly whirling around her. “All of you. You will not change my mind, and I will not stand for this any longer. This is my house, and I’m asking you to leave.”
Rowena widened her eyes and then narrowed them as she stared first at Hazel and then to Josephine. “She is not what you portray her to be, Josephine.”
Victor moved closer and wrapped an arm around her. “I love her, Mother, and I’m going to marry her.”
Pictures on the walls and a vase on a nearby table rattled. Hazel was surprised she’d conjured that much energy. “Please leave. All of you. Now.”
Rowena inhaled sharply. “I’ve never encountered someone so rude. Victor, come. This town means nothing to us.”
She stomped out of the house, leaving a trail of disgust in her wake.
Victor, however, didn’t follow. Instead, he dropped to a knee and opened a small box that he must have had clutched in his hand. A large glittering diamond winked at her. “Hazel, my goddess, please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
She shook her head violently, reached for his arm, and pulled him to his feet. “You had your chance, Victor. I’m sorry if this hurts you because I still consider you somewhat of a friend. But I will not marry you now or ever. You need to leave.”
Hazel gripped her mother’s arm and dragged her and Victor closer together and toward the door. “Take my mother with you. There’s a quaint motel at the edge of town.”
“Hazel,” Josephine whined. “You can’t do this to your own mother.”
“You will go, and someone will drop your suitcase off later. It won’t be me.”
Powerful energy filled her, and she shoved them toward the door. When they were on the porch, she closed the door in their faces.
Hazel stood on the opposite side and sagged against the wood. “They are insane,” she whispered. “Absolutely insane.”
Ethereal laughter floated around her like wispy clouds. Fear not. You picked the right man.
Hazel folded her arms and straightened her spine. “Thank you. Thank you very much, Clarabelle.”
The ghost laughed again, and Hazel sensed her spirit dancing circles around her.
Though I’ve been wrong before.
Hilarious laughter filled the room and was gone in an instant, leaving Hazel to wonder if tomorrow would be the best day of her life or her worst nightmare.
Chapter Twenty-One
The sensation of a thousand bird wings flapping inside Hazel’s chest caused her to take a deep breath. Her head swam, and she fought to clear away the worrisome thoughts.
Cora stopped buttoning her wedding dress and peered over Hazel’s shoulder, catching her gaze in the mirror in the ladies’ lounge inside the Old Stone Church. “Everything okay? You’re not having second thoughts about Peter, are you?”
Hazel expelled the air and forced her shoulders to drop. “No, not Peter. Everything else though. My mother. Victor. The coven. Timothy and Samuel. Oh, let’s not forget the dark clouds hovering outside.”
Cora glanced out the window as rain spattered the panes. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll get married inside. No big deal. It’s a beautiful building, enhanced by history. The rain outside is only a release of energy, a gift from nature, a cleansing for your beautiful new life.”
That part she could accept with happiness. But… “My mother hates that I’m getting married in a church.”
“Don’t worry about your mother. This is your day.”
Hazel released a strangled chuckle. “I don’t think a day has gone by that I haven’t had to worry about what my mother might do.”
Cora winked. “Today is not one of them.”
Hazel caught the hint of mischief in Cora’s eyes. “What have you done?”
She shrugged and failed miserably to hide her grin. “Nothing, really. Just a small hex to ensure your mother’s onboard and that there will be no outbursts from her when the priest asks if anyone objects.”
Hazel wished she could feel that confident. “I still have to worry about Victor.”
She shook her head. “Actually, I don’t think you do. We talked, and I believe he’s resigned to the idea.”
She snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Cora finished her work and stood back. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning.”
>
Comfort from Cora infused her and brought warmth to her heart and color to her cheeks. “Look at you. You’re just as beautiful. Periwinkle makes your skin glow.”
Cora twirled, showing off the full, knee-length skirt and shimmering sweetheart bodice. “I’d wear this every day if I could.”
She reached out a hand toward Cora. “Thank you for this. For being my best friend. For supporting me.”
Cora leaned in, skipped taking her hand, and hugged her fiercely. “You know it, sugar. I’m here for you.”
Hazel smiled. “And I’ll be here for you when you tie the knot with Lachlan.”
A soft chuckle burst from her. “That’s a long way off, if ever.”
She shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll be here.”
Cora exhaled and glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes. Let’s finish and get this show on the road.”
Hazel watched in the mirror as Cora expertly wove strands of her hair around the sparkling silver tiara adorned with glittering bejeweled leaves that she’d chosen, and then pinned her curled tresses up, leaving her looking beautifully elegant.
A knock sounded on the door, and Cora pried it open a crack. “We’ll be ready in less than five.”
Hazel stood and smoothed the ivory tulle skirt. She glanced at herself in the mirror, feeling every bit the lovely, nervous bride. Most women only had to worry if they’d chosen the right person. She had to consider the weight of the town’s future as well. She’d been given a lot to bear.
But she was ready for whatever the future would bring. As long as she had Peter at her side.
She slipped her feet into the strappy silver shoes she’d chosen and touched up her lipstick. Then turned her gaze to Cora who looked her over and smiled.
Cora handed the bouquet of purple delphinium, white anemone, and thistle, all set amongst ferns and other leaves, giving it an untraditional, boho look. “Perfect. Are you ready?”
She exhaled and nodded. “Yes.”
With the whereabouts of her father unknown and not trusting her mother, she’d chosen Margaret, Peter’s assistant and one of her dear friends, to walk her down the aisle.