A Fantasy Christmas

by Cindy Bennett, Sherry Gammon, Stephanie Fowers

  Only there was no inverter, no panel box of any kind for electricity, nor was there a gas line. “Impossible,” I said, with the word witch front and center in my head now.

  I scanned Marigold’s property, but didn’t see her. I raced to the barn and practically flew inside. The goats, all nestled in one stall half asleep, bleated their disapproval at my intrusion. I opened the door to the room she used to dry her herbs. Instead of the empty drying racks I’d seen earlier, there lay row after row of lavender in bunches.

  “Impossible,” I muttered again, swallowing the lump in my throat. “No way could Marigold have done all this in . . .” I glanced at my watch, “just over two hours.” I shook my head against the incredulousness that filled it.

  I rubbed my chest. My wounds from the fall were fairly minor, yet I remembered staring at them as I lay in the hole. They were anything but minor, especially the chest wound. Had she used magic to heal me somehow?

  I drew the curtains aside from the window. Marigold stood in the middle of her garden, waving her hand. In response, a large handful of lavender gathered in clumps midair. They flew to a six-foot-wide wagon nearby, and landed gently on the pile already there. I watched with my mouth hanging open for a few moments, just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. But they weren’t. I slouched against the wall and dropped my head and shoulders forward, bracing my hands against my knees for support. My reality shifted as I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my shoulder.

  “Marigold is a witch,” I mumbled, struggling to believe what I’d just seen. “No, witches are in children’s storybooks, not real life.” Yet what other explanation could there be for everything I’d just seen. After a few moments of arguing with myself about whether or not I was losing my mind, I gathered my wits, and marched outside. I had to know. Were the rumors true? Had I fallen for a witch? I took two steps forward, then twisted back to the barn, leaning against the side to stable my slightly shaky knees. Marigold still worked—is magic considered work?—in the garden, unaware of my presence.

  “Man up, Mahoney.” I righted myself, sucked in a deep breathe, and headed toward the field. The air, still sticky and humid from the rain, smelled of sweet wet hay from the neighboring fields. My shoes were soaked from the damp grass by the time I reached Marigold. With her back still to me, she continued to wave her hand at the lavender as the wagon filled. She’d cleared the vast field of lavender almost completely now. Two more waves and all the lavender lay neatly in the wagon. Marigold spun around, the smile on her pretty face dropping as she came eye to eye with me.

  “You are a witch,” I stated. I didn’t know whether to be scared or excited.

  “I… I… I’m a good witch,” she offered half-heartedly, her eyes searching my face.

  “A good…” I promptly sat on the wet field. I thought it better than passing out.

  “Do you hate me now?” Marigold asked quietly. “Not that I blame you. Who’d like a freak, right?” She turned sideways, adjusting a clump of lavender with her hand this time. Her face tightened with worry and her shoulders drooped. I never mentioned the word freak, but my gut told me by her tight features that she believed she was one.

  Scrubbing my jaw with my hand, I tried to force my brain to work this out. I was a man of rules. I loved facts. Concrete evidence. Black and white. I became a cop because of it. Laws were laws. It was also why I’d grown disillusioned with the law. I’d bust my butt arresting some scumbag, and some equally scummy lawyer would get the guy off with nothing more than a slap on the hand.

  Truthfully, the entire magic thing blew my mind, but Marigold was not a freak. Even if she could defy the laws of nature at will, she was still the goodhearted girl I’d come to love. Nothing could change that.

  “Marigold.” I stood and squeegeed the water from my pants with my hands. “You’re not a freak. Granted, I did just see you floating lavender in the air, which is a little . . . unique. I live by laws; you wave your hand and circumvent those laws.” My voice trailed off when I saw Marigold’s eyes stared at the ground. “But you are by no means a freak.” I lifted her downturned face, forcing my hand not to tremble. Although I was still pretty shaken, her worried expression forced me to get a grip on myself. The last think I wanted to do was hurt her.

  “You’re magnificent,” I said, “a wonder.” Her mouth opened in surprise and I couldn’t stop myself. I bent over her and kissed her gently. As soon as I broke away, I looked into her sweet eyes—now wide in wonder. “My only experience with witches is green faces and warts around Halloween,” I said. “And that certainly doesn’t describe you.”

  Marigold smiled guardedly. “Thank you. That means everything to me.” Her expression seemed stiff and I pulled her into my arms and held her tight. It didn’t take long for the tension to seep from her body as she relaxed into me.

  “We’d better get back inside,” she said into my shoulder. “It’s going to snow soon.”

  I lifted my face, seeing the dark, ominous sky. “What about the rest of your flowers?” I nodded to the marigolds.

  “They’ll be alright for a few more days.” With a nervous glance my way, she waved her hand over the flowers. I assumed she put some kind of a protection on them, judging by the twinkling lights that fell across the field and disappeared. “I’ll hand pick these when the snow melts,” she informed me cautiously. “Using too much magic makes for a lazy witch.”

  Too much . . . Breathe, Jack. I helped her pull the cart to the barn. When she started scooping up the piles of lavender with her hands to move them to the drying racks, I asked, “You’re not going to use magic?”

  “Are you sure?” Her brow wrinkled in uncertainty.

  “I’d like to watch—if you don’t mind, that is,” I said, hoping she’d not be offended.

  “Okay.” Despite her trepidation, she waved her hand over the wagon. The herbs danced onto the empty drying racks in the back, one at a time.

  I watched, my mouth slightly ajar, shaking my head in astonishment. “I wouldn’t believe this if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes.”

  By the time she finished, snow filled the air in a wild frenzy. I grabbed her hand and we ran to the house. Inside, she set out some bowls. I carried the stew to the table while she filled some mugs with delicious smelling hot chocolate. My mind reeled as I ate. I had so many questions, but didn’t want to come off like an idiot so I held my tongue, though it wasn’t easy.

  “This is wonderful, Marigold. I don’t think I’ve ever had a tastier bowl of stew.” I scooped up another bowlful, my third.

  “It’s probably the eye of newt and hummingbird tongue I used,” she said, scooping a second bowl herself. My hand froze halfway to my mouth. She laughed. “I’m kidding.”

  “Not funny,” I said, chuckling.

  We had almost finished eating when her eyes darted to mine as they had all night. Finally, she blurted, “You must have a million questions, Jack. Spit them out.”

  I paused, the cup of hot chocolate at my lips. “Witches can read minds, too?” Embarrassed, I tried to remember if I’d thought anything about her I wouldn’t want my mother to know.

  “No. At least I can’t.” She stood and took my empty bowl and set it in the sink with hers. “Jack, you just learned that I’m a witch, and that witches even exist, for that matter. Certainly you have questions.” She laid a gentle hand on my arm and led me to the couch. With a wave of her hand, the fireplace roared to life.

  “Could have used that little trick as boy scout,” I said, my brow furrowed. “It took me forever to start a campfire.”

  “But you learned. Magic should not be a crutch.” She unfolded the blanket I’d discarded earlier and covered our legs before settling under my arm and resting her head on my shoulder. Never in my life did anything feel more natural, as if she were created to be by my side.

  “Were you born a witch?” I asked, stroking her sweet-smelling hair.

  “Yes. My mother was a witch, as was her mother, for
generations, in fact. She met my father, who hadn’t an ounce of magic in his bones, while in college. She was studying holistic medicine and he was a business major. They married within a month of meeting.”

  “A month? That’s fast,” I said. “I knew my ex-wife for seven months before we married. I thought I was prepared. Wrong.”

  “My parents were in love. Deeply, passionately.” She sighed. “I can’t remember a day not seeing them kiss, or in each other’s arms. As a kid I’d giggle when I discovered them kissing. As a teen it completely disgusted me.”

  “That’s about right.” I tried to remember if I’d ever seen my parent’s kiss but nothing came to mind. I knew they loved each other, they just weren’t very demonstrative with their affection.

  Marigold sat up, a hand covering her laugh, her eyes wide. “Remember when Buck Abbott snuck into the chemistry lab during lunch and tried to make rum?”

  “Yes, in my ninth grade year,” I said. “He blew up the entire lab. They had to close the school early due to the smoke.”

  “When I got home I discovered my dad’s truck parked all crazy, half on the driveway, half on the grass.” She laughed again. “I went inside and heard noises coming from their bedroom that no teen wants to hear their parents make.”

  “What did you do?” I chuckled.

  “I ran outside, went straight to the barn, and cleaned out the stalls until I heard my dad’s truck leave two hours later.” She buried her face in my chest, still laughing. “I was never so grossed out in all my life,” she said, “And yet a part of me was thrilled to know just how much in love they were. It gave me hope.”

  “Sounds like they were very happy.”

  “Her death from a brain tumor a year later devastated my father.”

  “She couldn’t use magic to heal herself?” I asked.

  “By the time they learned about the cancer it had spread too far. Some things not even magic can fix.”

  “Are you more powerful than your mom? Not even sure how all that works so maybe that’s a stupid question. All I know is that I believe you saved my life.”

  “It’s not a stupid question,” she assured me with a squeeze of my hand. “After losing both my parents, I spent every minute learning how to heal. I don’t want to ever lose someone I love again.” She tugged on my flannel shirt. “I’m still not quite there yet. In fact, to heal your chest and heart, I had—”

  “What?” I bolted upright.

  Marigold straightened next to me. “You were a mess, Jack. If Sera hadn’t found you, and helped me by reinforcing my power, you’d have died. Even with that, it took all Sera and I had in us to heal you.”

  “Sera? As in, your cat, has magical powers?” I pointed to the snow white cat who lay curled up on the rug in front of the fire.

  “Sera’s a witch, too. She’s my cousin.” Marigold went and picked up the cat, then settled back next to me. The cat meowed in protest at being woken. She glared up at Marigold with her purple eyes.

  “How can a cat be your cousin?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to know.

  “She was human. And gorgeous, as you can imagine since she is a beautiful cat.” She stroked the cat as it purred. “Sera’s a flirt,” Marigold lowered her voice. “She made up some tea, lacing it with a love potion, and gave it to her boss, who she had a mad crush on.”

  “Oh, I get it. The powers that be who rule witches must have punished her. I’m guessing it’s illegal to use love potions.” I stroked the poor cat.

  “It’s not illegal, actually. Unethical, yes, but not illegal. However, her boss was a married man whose wife just so happens to be a very powerful witch. When she caught Sera slipping him more love potion, she transformed her into a cat. Sera now has limited power to switch into other animals, other neutered animals, I might add, and she can add her power to other witches but only for good.”

  “Married? She got what she deserved then.” My bitterness for cheating spouses showed and I didn’t care.

  “Yes, I suppose she did.” Marigold set the cat down. “Try not to judge her too harshly. She did help save you and she could have said no. Now she’s unable to change forms until her strength returns.”

  “When is that?” I asked, my heart softening somewhat toward the fur ball.

  “A few days, maybe a week. She’s also the one who found you.”

  I thought back and remembered. “The skunk, right?” Marigold nodded. “I smelled her long before I saw her.” The cat swung her head at that then hissed before sauntering away.

  “She’s a bit temperamental,” Marigold said. Her breathtaking cornflower blue eyes sparkled in amusement.

  “If your cousin can be turned into a cat, does that mean if you get mad at me for say, not putting the toilet seat down, you could change me into a toad?”

  “Hmm, never tried.” She raised her hand. “Let’s see.”

  “No, no. I’ll remember to put the seat down.” I scooped her hand into mine and kissed her palm. “Thank you, and your cousin, for saving my life. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  A flirty grin covered her face. “I can think of a way.” She pressed her lips to mine. How she thought this was payment baffled me. But who was I to argue?

  Chapter Nine

  Marigold

  Jack stayed with me for five days. Since he was supposed to be on vacation, there was no rush for him to get back into town. Each day he grew stronger, I grew sadder. I feared when he returned to his life, I’d be forgotten. But if that were the case, then I really didn’t mean that much to him anyway, and it was better that I found out before he completely broke my heart. Of course, it was already too late for that.

  I tried not to slow time too much, worried that he’d figure it out, but I couldn’t help it. I desperately hoped he’d fall in love with me, and that took time. I told myself I should come clean about my special gift, but couldn’t rally up the nerve. I feared he’d be angry that I’d done it without his consent.

  He enjoyed helping with simple home repairs like tightening a loose towel rack or unclogging a drain. I could have fixed everything myself using magic, but it thrilled him to help, and he looked so cute doing it. I also talked him out of heading prematurely into town to talk to Chayton about the moonshiners. “They’ve been selling the poison for years now. What’s a few more days? Build your strength back first.” I didn’t want him to leave just yet. Or ever, if truth be told.

  However, this morning, he decided he needed to get going. “It’s been five days, Marigold, and thanks to your herbs, and your magic, I’m feeling pretty good.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Even the injury to my leg from the gunshot no longer bothers me. Is this the last of the herbs for today?” he asked, handing me four muslin bags of dried marigolds he’d been helping me package.

  “Yes. When you’re finished with your tea,” I pointed to the mug on the table, “I’ll have Sera transform and we’ll go get your bike.” I took a bag of herbs from a small cabinet in my workroom where we’d been working and set it next to him. “Take this with you. Just steep two tablespoons of this in hot water for ten minutes and skim off the leaves before drinking it.”

  “Thanks. I can’t believe how much stronger I feel after drinking this.” He picked up his cup and drained the last of it. “And it’s just herbs?”

  “All herbs. Some for healing, some to rebuild your blood supply. You lost a lot.” I gathered up the labeled bags and set them inside the cabinet while Jack put his empty cup in the sink.

  “Are you ready?” I asked, ignoring the dull ache in my heart.

  “Not quite.” He came up to me and cradled my face. After a moment of staring into my eyes, he dropped his mouth to mine. My heart hammered away in my chest. I waved my hand behind him one last time, not wanting the kiss to end, feeling my cheeks flush and my mind go fuzzy. The guy knew how to kiss a girl senseless.

  He pulled away and rested his cheek on my head. “It’s as if time stands still whenever I kiss you.”

  I
nodded my guilty head.

  “Sera, you ready?” he asked the cat. Sera stuck her tail straight up, adding a hook on the end, and strolled to the door. “I’m taking that as a yes?” he asked me.

  “Yes, indeed.” I pulled on my winter coat, handing Jack an old one that belonged to my dad. “You’re going to need it. My dad’s gloves are in the pocket.”

  He slipped on the brown leather jacket and gloves. “This is beautiful. Your father had great taste.”

  “My mother got it for him as a Christmas gift. You can have it. I have a large container of their clothes I’ve been meaning to donate, but I keep forgetting to take them into town." It took me a while to want to, but the time had come. Jack nodded in understanding.

  As Sera transformed into a mule again, a smile split his face. “Fascinating.” He strapped a saddle from the barn onto Sera and climbed on the stout mule. He offered me his hand and lifted me easily up in front of him. I settled into position, feeling his strong chest against my back. “This isn’t too much for her, is it?” he asked.

  “If it were, we’d be sitting in a pile of snow right now because she would have tossed us there,” I assured him. I snuggled against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me and took ahold of the reins.

  “Should I say giddyup,” he whispered in my ear. We both chuckled.

  “Let’s go, Sera,” I said. “Down the path to the road. Jack will tell you when to stop.” I stroked her short, stubby mane. “You do remember where you hid the bike, right, Jack?”

  “Sure do. Bottom of the dirt trail, under an overgrown buttonbush.”

  Sera took off at a good clip. I wanted her to slow, hoping to spend more time with Jack, but I couldn’t exactly say that aloud, and with his steady eyes watching me I couldn’t use magic.

  All too soon, we arrived at the bush. Jack climbed off Sera as I rubbed my cheeks to thaw my face.

  Jack chuckled. I lifted my head to see him watching me. “If we were in Port Fare, those cheeks of yours wouldn’t thaw till May.”