by T. M. Cromer
“Shall we go ask her?” she suggested.
“Hold on.”
Keaton teleported them to the Carlyle estate with ease.
“Nice job!”
He grinned and bussed her lips. “Thanks.”
Together they sought out Chloe where she was bent over her schoolwork.
Her response was better than they could’ve imagined.
“Do you want to wait until we wake Aurora?” Keaton asked her later that night as they lay in bed.
Autumn turned the idea over in her mind before rejecting it. “No. She may never wake. I don’t want to waste any more time. I think she would understand.”
“Am I being too much of an asshole if I leave the planning up to you?”
She laughed and rolled on her stomach to look down on him. “You can do as much or as little as you want. It will mainly be about the people surrounding and supporting us. Everything else is just decoration.”
“But what about dresses, the cake, and that sort of thing?”
“The dress is a simple snap of my fingers. As for the cake, I’ll let Winnie know your favorite flavor, and she can create one of her masterpieces.” She traced his pec with her index finger. “I swear she should’ve opened a bakery instead of an online lotion shop. That woman can cook!”
“I’m not going to lie; if you hadn’t accepted my proposal, I was going to ask her next. Those cinnamon rolls are incredible.”
She laughed again and rested her head over his heart. “I can see the attraction.”
Keaton held out his hand and closed his eyes. Within seconds, a ring rested in his palm.
Her eyes widened at the beauty of the design. A square emerald-cut amber jewel was outlined with brilliant diamonds. The precious stone captured the inner radiance in such a way as to make it appear as if a flame danced within its center.
“Ohmygod, Keaton! It’s gorgeous!”
“It matches your eyes.” He lifted her left hand and slid the ring in place. “Perfect—like you.”
Moisture flooded her eyes and, one-by-one, her tears escaped to trek down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just tell me you love me, and it will be more than enough.”
“I love you.”
“You are my world, Autumn Thorne. Never forget that.”
Epilogue
One week later
Today was the day.
Stomach a ball of excitement, Autumn Thorne cut through the dense woods, making her way to the clearing where Keaton would be waiting.
All four of her sisters trailed behind, with Chloe alongside her, their hands clasped together. The girl happily prattled on about everything under the sun. When they reached the glen, Keaton stood waiting within the circle of the ancient stones. He dazzled in his black tuxedo.
Nerves almost got the better of Autumn, and in a moment of blind panic, she considered fleeing. The nervous expression on Keaton’s face along with the worried look in his Caribbean-blue gaze made the difference. She noted the color of his eyes, and it stopped her from a foolish knee-jerk reaction due to her own apprehension. Since they’d put the past behind them, his irises had gradually shifted back to the color they had been when they were wildly in love as young adults.
And as Autumn paused to watch him, Keaton adjusted his cufflinks twice and straightened his bowtie at least three times. A good portion of her own anxiety dissipated. The scars of the past marked them both. But now was the time to let it all go. To step up and repeat the vows that would bind them for life.
“Mama?” The one word held all Chloe’s questions.
Autumn glanced down into the child’s fearful face and smiled. “Are we ready to do this thing, kid?”
Happiness bloomed on the young girl’s face, and she took her position with the flower basket. Autumn watched Chloe with pride and all the love she held for the child.
Her hand came to rest on her lower abdomen. Soon enough there would be another child to love. She still couldn’t believe the gift the Goddess had given her during her stasis. Where once she couldn’t have children, now she could once more.
“Are you ready?” The deep voice startled her from her musings.
Autumn turned her attention to her father. “I believe I am.”
“Ten years ago, I would’ve said he wasn’t worthy of you. And perhaps he still isn’t, but then no one’s good enough for my beloved daughter,” Preston said gruffly. “You tell him he’d better treat you right or he has me to answer to.”
“I will, Dad.”
Preston extended his arm, and Autumn took it without reservation. Together they waited for Chloe to deposit the rest of her yellow daisy petals on the path.
Across the distance, Autumn met Keaton’s warm, loving gaze and smiled with all the joy in her heart. His return grin lit up the clearing.
As she made her way down the aisle, her cream-colored lace train trailed behind, stirring the lush, fragrant grass. The few guests—mostly family and Derek—rose as she passed.
Phinneas Flynn, head of the Witches’ Council and the person who would perform their commitment ceremony, stepped forward as Autumn approached. In his hands, he held a metal bowl and a long white cloth shot through with silver threads—the hand-fasting material handed down through her family line from Isis.
“Are you ready, Autumn?”
“I am.”
He faced Keaton.
“Are you ready, Keaton?”
“I am,” Keaton confirmed.
“Let’s proceed.”
As Phinneas droned on about the sanctity of marriage, of the Goddess, and of magic, Keaton clasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. The gesture was so sweet, so perfect in the moment, it stole her breath away.
Autumn tightened her fingers in the hopes she could relay what she felt.
“Who has the rings?” Phinneas asked.
“I’ve got that taken care of,” Autumn said with a side glance in Keaton’s direction. She faced the crowd. “Summer.”
Her sister released her pet chimpanzee, Morty, to approach with a small white pillow in his hands.
Keaton paled but remained still as Autumn bent to retrieve the pillow with the rings.
“Thank you, Sir Mortimer. Can you show Keaton there’s no hard feelings?”
The small ape bent at the waist, then curled his lip back in a grin before ambling back to Summer.
“Not funny, babe,” Keaton said in an aside. “That chimp is an asshole. He tried to use my head for batting practice.”
“Oh, it’s a little funny,” she returned with a smirk. “What did you call him? The Babe Ruth of apes?”
“The Babe Ruth of Chimps, and that was C.C. I was—wait! How did you even know about that conversation? If I recall correctly, you were making good your escape after firebombing my truck.”
“Old Man Harkins was kind enough to let me review his tapes,” she said with a grin.
Keaton’s eyes narrowed. “We reviewed those tapes, and they didn’t have anything of interest.”
“They certainly did. But that’s what witchcraft is for.”
“How many other things have you gotten away with over the years?”
“I think, as the town Mayor, you shouldn’t ask a loaded question like that,” she said as she handed him a ring.
“I think, as the town Mayor, I’m lucky you’re now on my side,” he retorted without heat, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. “Will you quit stalling and marry me?”
She winked and faced Phinneas, who watched them with wry amusement.
They exchanged rings and joined hands. Around their wrists, Phinneas wove the sacred hand-fasting cloth as a symbol of unity. From the metal bowl, he anointed them with the oil it contained.
“Lavender for devotion to one another. Myrtle for wedded bliss. Thyme for strength in the face of all challenges the Goddess puts in your path. And lastly, yarrow for everlasting love,” he said. “May you bask in the happiness the Goddess will afford you. Blesse
d be.”
The entire party repeated the words “blessed be.”
“You may kiss your bride, Keaton.”
Keaton grinned, and Autumn felt it down to her very toes. As he leaned in, she said, “I love you, Keaton Carlyle. I always have, and I always will.”
The kiss was one of beauty. It held all the emotions of the past, and all the promise of the future.
“I love you, too, Autumn Carlyle. For now. For always.”
Alastair clasped his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Two down. Three to go.”
Preston shot him a sharp glance. “Are you matchmaking, brother?”
“I wouldn’t call it matchmaking per se, but if I can help push Aurora’s children in the direction of their soulmates…” Alastair shrugged and left the insinuation open to interpretation.
“I never thought I’d see the day when you went soft,” GiGi said from behind the two men.
“Never soft, dear sister. Perhaps a bit sentimental, but never soft.”
“Who’s next on your list?” Preston asked.
“Winnie and Zane.”
GiGi choked.
Both men turned inquiring gazes upon her.
Alastair was the first to respond. “Something we should know, sister?”
“That one might be a bit difficult,” she confessed, color creeping up her neck.
“What did you do?” Preston asked.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said with a shrug. “Winnie on the other hand…”
Alastair heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Why am I always forced to clean up this family’s mess?”
Preston chuckled. “You always did love a challenge, brother. It seems you found it in the Thorne children.”
With a distasteful grimace, Alastair disappeared.
“What did happen with Winnie and Zane?” Preston asked his sister.
“She might’ve cast a tiny spell that may or may not have had a side effect.”
“Let me guess; you helped her,” he said dryly.
“She was determined to do it anyway,” GiGi defended.
“Well, if anyone is up for the task, it’s our dear brother. But I definitely intend to watch this one unfold.”
From the Author…
Thank you for taking the time to read AUTUMN MAGIC. If you love what you’ve read, please leave a brief review. To find out about what’s happening next in the world of The Thorne Witches, be sure to subscribe my newsletter.
Books in The Thorne Witches Series:
SUMMER MAGIC
AUTUMN MAGIC
WINTER MAGIC
SPRING MAGIC
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Never fear. Each of the characters you’ve come to love—Holly, Nash, Alastair, and GiGi—will have a story of their own in the coming months.
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Afterword
According to Buddhist and Hindu legend, Chintamani Stone is a wish-fulfilling jewel that fell from the sky. This may be an indication that the stone was a piece of a meteorite. And while the Chintamani Stone was rumored to have actually existed, the object did indeed disappear around the 1920’s.
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Were Nicholas and Helena Roerich in possession of the stone? Possibly. It ties into the time the Roerich family spent in the Himalayas.
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But the bottom line? I took a bit of creative license with the stone’s power and with Helena’s journal—as writers are wont to do—as I will also do with the artifacts listed in the coming stories for the Thorne sisters. I mean, that’s the great part about being an author, isn’t it?
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If you care to learn more about Nicholas and Helena, you can find a link for the museum dedicated to the couple here: www.roerich.org.