Spells of the Heart

by Ellen Dugan

  “I’m sorry, Violet.”

  “Do you understand why I’m telling you all of this?” She crouched down so we were eye to eye. “I was so afraid Autumn, that it paralyzed me. All I could worry about was: What would my mother think of me, marrying an older man who’d gotten another woman pregnant? What would the family say? Could I ever trust him again? I let fear and my pride win and I walked away from the most passionate man and amazing love I’ve ever known.” She blew out a breath. “After seven years, no one else has even come close.”

  I started to pull her in for a hug, and she stopped me.

  “You’re all sweaty,” Violet reminded me with a half-laugh.

  “Oh, sorry.” I squeezed her shoulder instead.

  “Don’t be a fool, my friend,” Violet said. “Love is a spell of the heart that isn’t offered to everyone, especially not twice. If you’re lucky enough to find someone you love, and who loves you in return, go after that dream.”

  There wasn’t much time for our talk to continue. Violet had to leave quickly to go deliver the flowers for the wedding. I promised to call her later, and I walked the short distance back home in the light mist that had begun to fall.

  I was so busy thinking over everything that she’d said that it startled me when I found I was walking past the Drake mansion. I stopped and stood in the spot where I’d first run into Duncan, and remembered.

  The Bishops and the Drakes had a long and intense history, there was no denying it. Starting back in Colonial times, with the star-crossed couple whose love had begun the feud. Then there’d been Phillip and Irene in the 1960’s, and twenty some odd years later Aunt Gwen and Thomas Drake had been in love, at least for a time. The truth was that none of those relationships had ended happily.

  Now today Holly and Julian were secretly together, and I’d been stalling about my feelings for Duncan. Maybe it was time to take a stand and thumb my nose at the sad history of our families. I refused to believe that my relationship was doomed simply because others had been. It was a new century, and we were different people. It didn’t have to be all dramatic or complicated...

  I loved Duncan Drake Quinn. It was that damn simple and that damn scary all at the same time.

  A half hearted roll of thunder jerked me out of my brooding. While I’d stood there staring at the mansion, the mist had become a light rain. I shook myself off and began to walk faster, eventually breaking into a jog, making my way back to the bungalow.

  I let myself in the back door and dripped my way to the downstairs shower. Luna followed me in and sat watching as I stripped out of my damp running gear. “I’m going to get cleaned up, and prepare for the family meeting,” I told her. Luna hopped up on the closed toilet seat and meowed in agreement. “It’s time to tell them everything I know.” I patted the cat’s head. “And it’s time for the truth to finally be out in the open.”

  I was drying my hair after my shower, and was focusing on the images from my pretty pastel dream. Anything to keep my mind off the confrontation that was shortly to occur. I turned off the hair dryer and decided that I needed to stop stalling. About everything. “Suck it up Buttercup,” I told my own reflection. I put the hairdryer away in the cabinet and began to wonder when would be the perfect time to tell Duncan that I loved him...

  “Sooner than later,” I said, and then Luna gave my hip a playful swat. “Do you agree, Miss Luna?”

  Luna hopped down and took off. I chuckled after her and gathered up my gear and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a large pink bath towel. I was tossing my clothes in the hamper on the upper landing of the basement steps when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

  “Shit!” I jumped, and made a grab for the towel as it began to slip. There stood my great-aunt Irene, her arms crossed, leaning against my kitchen table, and she was very corporeal.

  “You have a glass backdoor and you walk around in a towel?” She raised her brows in disapproval.

  “I’m covered,” I said tucking the towel tighter around myself. “Mostly.”

  Irene shook her head. “Do you have news for me?”

  “Come with me.” I motioned her to follow, and as I expected, Irene was waiting when I walked into my room. “Thomas found Magnolia—Maggie.”

  Irene settled on the bench at the foot of my bed. “Are she and my great-grandchild safe?”

  “Yes, they are now,” I said, and relayed the information Thomas had given me. “She and her daughter will be moving to William’s Ford after the first of the year.”

  Irene smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” I shrugged my robe on, belted it and let the towel drop from underneath. “I should tell you that I’m headed over to the manor in a little while to tell the family about the lock box, your daughter Patricia, and everything we’ve found.”

  Irene’s image wavered for a moment. “I see.”

  “Do you have any messages you’d like me to pass along to your sister?”

  “Ask Faye to give my amethyst crescent brooch to my granddaughter. It’s hers by right.”

  “Alright.” I reached in a drawer for my clothes. “Anything else?”

  Irene shook her head. “No, Faye is much too stubborn. She held a grudge against me for most of my life. She won’t want to hear from me.”

  “I think...” I shook my head as her image faded. “She’s not the only one who is stubborn.”

  “Speaking of stubborn.” Her voice floated through the air. “It’s way past time that you told that young man you love him.”

  “I will.”

  “When?” she wanted to know, and was gone.

  “Tonight,” I decided, pressing a hand to my belly as my stomach began to jump.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Duncan and I arrived at the manor for lunch, and I brought along the copies of everything we’d found in the metal box. I was doing my best to block any of my emotions from Duncan. I had even gone as far as to carry fluorite crystals in my pocket to further help protect my thoughts.

  I tried to be nonchalant as I carried the tote bag into the manor house, but of course I tripped over the damn rug in the foyer. Duncan saved me with a quick grab and I managed not to fall.

  Ivy smirked at me. “Rug jumped up and grabbed you, eh?”

  “Bite me,” I snapped nervously.

  Ivy ran a hand down my arm. “Hey,” she said. “It’s okay. Nathan and I have got your back.”

  I’d called ahead and had given Ivy and Nathan a head’s up so they knew that I would be sharing the news with the family, today. “I figured the best time to tell everyone would be after lunch,” I confided.

  Ivy brushed at her hair. “Yeah, lull them into complacency with a nice meal then drop the bomb—so to speak.”

  Nathan rolled his eyes at Ivy. “That sort of snarky comment is not helping your cousin at the moment.”

  “I’m okay,” I said, and Nathan gave my arm a pat of encouragement.

  Duncan stayed by my side while I hung the bag on the back of my dining room chair and attempted to act natural—but I was a nervous wreck. I found I didn’t have much of an appetite, and I pushed the ham and scalloped potatoes around on my plate, doing my best to make casual conversation with Holly who was seated to my left.

  Finally the table was cleared, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Before we dive into dessert,” I said. “Duncan and I have something we’d like to share with the fam—”

  “Are you engaged?” Aunt Faye asked before I could finish my sentence.

  “What?” I flinched, hard in reaction to the question. “No Aunt Faye, we’re not engaged.”

  Duncan gave my leg a bolstering pat, and I reached for Duncan’s hand under the table, and gave his fingers a squeeze.

  “Is this about the haunting at your house?” Holly asked.

  Aunt Faye’s head snapped around. “You’ve all been making jokes about Irene haunting the bungalow for months. It’s time to stop that.”

  “It’s not a joke,�
�� Ivy said. “Autumn has interacted with Irene, several times. I’ve been there and smelled the lilacs, and I know Holly has too.”

  “Yes, I have,” Holly said.

  Nathan leaned forward. “From what Autumn and Duncan have described, we are speaking about an intelligent style haunting.”

  “Hogwash!” Aunt Faye harrumphed in her chair.

  “It’s not uncommon in hauntings that the spirit of the deceased lingers if they feel they have unfinished business,” Nathan said, giving me the perfect opening.

  “Speaking of unfinished business...” I tried to get the conversation back on track.

  Aunt Faye scowled at Nathan. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Morgan talks to Irene,” Lexie said firmly, “and he can see her.”

  Morgan kicked his feet in his booster chair. “Reen smiles. She’s my friend.”

  “You’ve never told me that before.” Aunt Faye frowned at Morgan and Lexie.

  Bran slid his hand over Morgan’s red curls. “We didn’t want to upset you, Aunt Faye.”

  Duncan addressed my great-aunt. “Irene’s ghost has interacted with me as well, and she spoke through Autumn one night.”

  “What?” Aunt Faye demanded. “That’s serious, someone should have told me!”

  “It only happened once.” I tried to calm her down, and found that I was faced with disapproving stares from the rest of the family.

  “When she spoke to me through Autumn,” Duncan said calmly, “she asked me to help ‘bring back what was secreted away’.”

  “At the time, we weren’t sure what that meant,” I said. “But the day after the fire when we were cleaning up, Duncan found a little niche built under the stairs in the basement.” I reached for the bag behind me and pulled it into my lap.

  Duncan picked up the story. “Irene had secreted away a strong box.”

  “Inside of the box there were old photos, and important papers.” My hands were shaking, but I pulled the papers from the bag and set them on the table. “These are the copies of the documents.”

  “What sort of documents?” Bran wanted to know.

  I cleared my throat. “We discovered that Irene Bishop had given birth to a daughter in 1968, and gave her up for adoption.”

  “Impossible.” Aunt Faye scoffed.

  I passed down the photocopy of the first snapshot of Irene when she was heavily pregnant. “No, not impossible,” I said. “Only secret.”

  Aunt Faye was pale but she held her hand out for the photo. “Oh, Irene,” she whispered as she studied the image.

  “These are copies of her old love letters, the birth certificate, adoption papers and about a dozen photos.” My stomach tied itself into knots as I tried to figure out the best way to deliver the rest of the news. Once it was shared there was no going back.

  “For goddess’ sake. Tell them, Autumn,” Ivy said. “Before you give yourself an ulcer.”

  “Wait.” Holly glared at her twin. “You know about this? How come Ivy knows?”

  “Because I had consulted with Nathan,” I explained to Holly. “I was trying to confirm if Irene’s haunting of the bungalow was because of the contents of the strongbox.”

  Ivy shrugged. “I happened to be on hand to overhear their conversation.”

  Bran was studying the photo of Irene. “Why would Irene give up her child for adoption?”

  “We learned that she did it to keep her daughter safe,” I said.

  Holly’s eyes were round. “Safe? Safe from what?”

  “From the father’s family,” I answered, passing the copy of the birth certificate down the table.

  “Who was the father?” Bran and Faye asked together.

  Duncan rested his shoulder against mine. “The father of Irene Bishop’s child was my great uncle, Phillip Drake.”

  Around the table there was a variety of reactions.

  Aunt Faye studied the birth certificate. “I remember the summer that Irene went away to stay with her friends in Florida. We didn’t hear from her for months...” Aunt Faye’s voice broke and she handed the document to Bran and Lexie. “After Phillip’s death she must have thought this was her best way of protecting their child from Silas.” Aunt Faye’s face was grim. “Silas Drake was an evil man.”

  “According to what my uncle told me, you’re dead on with your description of him.” Duncan’s voice sounded casual but I could feel that his thigh muscles were coiled tight.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him. They were speaking about his grandfather, after all.

  He nodded. “After Autumn and I read through the papers we decided together to take them to Thomas. He has the resources and the money to hire detectives and to try and find Irene’s and Phillip’s daughter.”

  “And did he?” Lexie wanted to know.

  “He did.” I took a deep breath, and told my family everything I knew about the late Patricia Vance Sutton, and her surviving daughter and granddaughter.

  Holly sat silently and listened intently to the discussion—now that I knew about her and Julian, I understood why she was so interested. Ivy took a very practical view on the topic. Nathan, with his expertise on hauntings, had several theories why Irene had been so active at the bungalow, and why she’d stepped up her appearances after the box had been located. I shared with the family my most recent interaction with Irene, and passed along the request that Aunt Faye pass the amethyst crescent pin down to Maggie.

  The request to have the brooch returned upset Aunt Faye. A debate ensued about the legalities, and to my surprise it was Lexie who sided with Duncan and I. When Bran had become annoyed that we hadn’t had first contact with a Bishop descendant, it was Lexie who’d stopped his rant.

  “Thomas Drake has the bankroll and the connections to locate Maggie and her child much faster than we ever could have,” she told Bran. “What’s done is done.”

  Aunt Faye began to argue that point, but it was Duncan who’d ended the discussion. “I’d like to remind you all,” he said quietly. “Maggie Parrish is not only a Bishop descendant—she is also a Drake.” His words were met with a ringing silence. “We have as much right to contact her as you.”

  “Boom,” Ivy said, pantomiming the dropping of a microphone.

  Holly covered her mouth to try and smother a laugh.

  “Can we have dessert now?” Morgan asked.

  “Yes,” Lexie said, getting up from the table. “We can.”

  Dessert was served but no one really ate it. Afterwards, I left the photocopies with Bran, knowing he’d want to archive them with the other family papers. Aunt Faye had retreated to her room, Ivy and Nathan headed back to his apartment, and Holly had disappeared. Since Lexie and Bran were taking Morgan to a birthday party for one of his friends, I volunteered to babysit Belinda for a couple of hours.

  Duncan carried the diaper bag, I hitched Belinda on my hip, and we walked back to the bungalow.

  “Should I apologize for my family’s reaction?” I said.

  “No.” He pulled the baby’s hood up to protect her head from the cool breeze. “Give them a little time, Autumn,” he suggested, as the wind stripped leaves from the trees.

  I sighed. “I will.”

  Duncan went up the back porch steps and I handed him the door keys. “Remember, Thomas had a similar reaction, when he learned about Patricia.” He unlocked the door and held it open for me and the baby.

  As soon as we got inside, Belinda started to squawk and squeal. The five month old fussed as we took her sweater off. Duncan held her while I tucked a bottle in the fridge and set the diaper bag on the table. I fished out a few baby toys, and Duncan took the baby over to the couch and sat down with her in his lap.

  I tried not to giggle as I walked over. Belinda was staring at Duncan, not sure what to make of him. I sat beside them and Belinda immediately reached out for me. I took her from Duncan and gave her a quick snuggle. “I don’t know how Irene managed to give her baby up.”

  Duncan sighed. “I imagine she did what she
thought was best.”

  While Belinda gnawed on her plastic baby keys, Duncan built a fire in the fireplace and turned on a football game. As soon as he sat down, I cuddled up and Luna leapt for the back of the sectional. The cat strolled over, arranging herself behind Duncan’s head. It hit me hard in that moment that my life could be like this someday. Lazy Sunday afternoons with a fire in the fireplace, a football game on the television, and a baby in my lap.

  “This is nice,” I said.

  Duncan kissed me. “It is.”

  Belinda yawned, and her head began to nod. Duncan tried to kiss me again and the baby started to fuss.

  Before I could react, Duncan scooped her up. “Let me try something.” He put the baby over his shoulder, and patted her back. “Take a snooze, Belinda,” Duncan suggested.

  I grinned at his smooth handling of the baby. “Well, look at you.”

  “I’ve seen Bran do this with her a few times. She’s tired and wants to sleep, but is too wound up.”

  “You’re reading her.”

  “It’s not hard with babies.” As if in agreement, Belinda rubbed her face tiredly against his shoulder. She wriggled around, but she soon settled in with a sigh. As Duncan patted her back, she curled up against him, and in a few moments she was out like a light.

  “Do you want me to take her?” I asked softly.

  “No.” He smiled as my niece lay sleeping against his chest. Luna began to purr and Duncan settled in to watch his game.

  Watching him with the baby had my heart melting. Sitting there with Duncan, I fingered the fluorite in my pocket, reinforced my protection so he wouldn’t read my thoughts, and started to hatch a plan. Because if I hadn’t figured out earlier that I was in love with him, seeing him holding Belinda would have certainly sealed the deal.

  He’d be a wonderful father; caring, fun, and loving... I thought. I didn’t just love him. I wanted to marry him, and have kids.

  I wanted the faery tale. I wanted a happy ever after.

  Now all I had to do was get him to propose. Or I could be a modern woman, I thought, and tell Duncan that I loved him—and simply propose to him myself.