by Debora Geary
Now tears fell on her face along with the kisses. “I know, and I’m so very sorry. We’ll do what we can with that, and it should get better over time. For now, just know that we love you. You’ve come back to us. It will be a bit of a journey, but you’ll rock our babies. I promise.”
Moira felt the light touch of a sleep spell, and she gave in to the drifting. She would rock the babies. That was fine, then.
Chapter 24
Elorie looked up at the castle and smiled. Lizzie would be in heaven, sleeping in a turret.
The castle was the latest inventive solution produced by Realm’s miraculous coders. When you had hundreds of sleepy witches, lots of beds were a good thing, and castles happened to come with rooms aplenty.
And to her eternal astonishment, Uncle Marcus was playing host. It was his castle Jamie and Ginia had transported into Gran’s world, but they’d chosen it for its size, not for the owner’s renowned hospitality. Even his virtual serving staff seemed shocked by his manners. He’d fed everyone, had them graciously shown to rooms, and promised a hot breakfast in the morning.
Which would be coming soon—if the Realm sky were to be believed, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Elorie’s stomach growled. She needed to find some food soon, but she was wedged into the corner of a really comfortable couch with Aaron’s head pillowed in her lap. He hadn’t made it as far as a bed. Judging from the snores she could hear, a number of the nearby couches were inhabited as well.
“Want some breakfast?” asked a quiet voice over her shoulder. Sophie slipped into the nearby armchair and laid a tray on the table between them. “We pregnant mamas can’t sleep all day like some people I know.”
Elorie smiled in welcome. “Mike’s still asleep?”
“He is. Most of the healers are, but apparently Seedling here isn’t as tired as everyone else.” Sophie patted her belly.
Elorie picked up one of the breakfast pastries. It smelled divine, buttery apple and a tease of cinnamon. “Have you checked on Gran?” She’d briefly held Gran’s hand late in the night, but the healers were keeping visitors to a minimum while she slept.
Sophie nodded. “She’s still resting. Uncle Marcus’s excellent kitchen staff has prepared some broth and herbal tea for when she wakes.”
“How is she, really?” Elorie stared at her breakfast, afraid of the answer.
“It will be a long road.” Sophie stirred her tea aimlessly. “Her speech has definitely been affected, and her vision. Both of those should improve with time and long-term care. Uncle Marcus says her mind feels fairly clear, though, so that’s a hopeful thing.”
When you practically grew up with someone, you caught the nuances. “What aren’t you telling me, Soph?”
“There’s a lot we don’t know yet.” Her eyes radiated distress. “She may not be able to walk. The right side of her body has been hit very hard, and sometimes that’s hard to reverse.”
Gran unable to walk, talk, or see? Elorie sucked in air, fighting the sudden lightness in her head.
“Don’t you pass out on me.” A touch from Sophie, and it got suddenly better. “She’s alive, sister mine. She’s alive, and she’s the strongest woman I know. She’s going to need us all to believe in her.”
Elorie nodded. Gran had been her rock for as long as she could remember. If Gran needed to lean now, then they’d stand strong for her, for as long as it took. She looked around at all those gathered and waiting. There would certainly be plenty of help.
“I kept thinking last night about how lucky we were,” Sophie said. “If this had happened just a month ago, when your magic was still hidden, we wouldn’t have been able to bring her here, or do half of what we did to heal her. You saved her life.”
“Getting her here wouldn’t have mattered a bit without your skills.” Elorie gripped Sophie’s hand. “Gran always said healing was the most exalted of magics. She’s right.”
Sudden humor hit Sophie’s eyes. “She only said that to keep us all stirring potions in herbals class.”
Elorie grinned in memory. It felt good to think of Gran in those moments—strong, and alive, and giving witchlings a touch of grief for not paying enough attention.
So many had come to Gran’s aid. Her witchlings, pushing love and life into those precious flowers. The coding geniuses of Realm. A four-year-old powerhouse and the gentlest of teleportation spells. Lauren walking around with Great Gran’s crystal ball and encouraging hearts to believe. So many had given anything that was needed.
Such love for Gran. Peace settled into Elorie’s heart, and gratitude that she’d been able to do her small part.
The door of Moira’s temporary residence opened, and Meliya stuck her head out. “She’s awake.”
~ ~ ~
It was most unpleasant to actually feel your age. Moira tried to wiggle her fingers and groaned at the effort.
“Easy, Aunt Moira. We’ll sit you up now.” Sophie’s voice was soothing, as any healer’s should be. It grated at Moira’s soul. Good. Grumpy patients made faster recoveries.
Gentle hands propped her up and tucked pillows behind her back. Moira realized it all seemed very dark. The blurry moon of the night before swam into her mind. Perhaps whatever had happened had taken her sight.
Elorie’s soothing voice this time. “Can you open your eyes, Gran?”
Her eyes were still shut? Well, of all the silly things. No wonder it was dark.
“I think they’re crusted shut.” A moist cloth carefully wiped her eyes, along with the slight tingle of a light healing spell. “There now, give it a try.”
Opening her eyes had never seemed like so much work. The first sights of light and shadow were still terribly blurry. Then efficient hands slid a pair of glasses into place. “Do these help? Meliya bespelled them for you to use while your eyes heal.”
Moira blinked several times. Oh, yes. Those were splendid. She could see quite well now. She smiled at her beloved girls.
Sophie grinned back, the pleasure of a happy healer in her eyes. Elorie’s smile was a lot more wobbly.
Sophie put a quiet hand on Elorie’s shoulder. “It’s normal, and quite temporary.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’ve had a stroke, Aunt Moira. It’s affected the right side of your body, so your smile is a little crooked yet.”
A stroke. So she had almost died, then.
She tried to call enough power for a healing trance to see for herself what had happened. Sophie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “There’s plenty of time for that later. Save your strength.”
She gently picked up Moira’s hands. “Can you squeeze my fingers?”
Moira focused on her hands. The left one squeezed fairly normally for an old woman who had almost died. The right one moved and shook, but couldn’t grip Sophie’s fingers.
As a healer, she knew it was quite good news that it had moved at all. As a woman with a hand that didn’t do as she asked—well, that was a wee bit scary. “I guess I won’t be walking for a bit, then.”
The raspy voice, she had expected. But even to her ears, her words had been garbled beyond recognition. Elorie laid gentle fingers on her lips. “Wait. I have an idea.”
She walked out of Moira’s field of vision. Sophie leaned in. “You’ll be singing to this babe of mine. Just give it time.”
Ah, Sophie. A good healer doesn’t make promises she can’t deliver.
Elorie slid back in the door, Lauren at her heels. Sophie’s eyes brightened. “You’re a genius, little sister.”
Moira met Lauren’s eyes. If my mind’s a vegetable, don’t you be letting these two know it, now.
Lauren burst into relieved laughter. “You sound just like your normal self in there. Hang on a moment while I put mindlinks in place so everyone can hear you.” She glanced at Sophie. “Will that be okay?”
Sophie nodded, and Moira felt a mindlink click into place. Hello, my lovelies. So tell me about this place I’m in, and how I got here.
Three beaming faces
started talking over each other. It was a delightful clatter. She listened for a while, and then held up a hand. It wobbled a bit, but did the job.
So let me be sure I have this right. I’ve been ported into Realm, saved by a team of the witching world’s best healers, and no one’s brought me tea yet?
Sophie grinned in delight. “There really isn’t anything at all wrong with your mind, is there? Tea’s on the way, along with some homemade broth.”
Moira scowled. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d truly detested broth.
Elorie giggled. “Well, you made the rest of us drink it often enough.”
That’s because it’s good for you, child.
Elorie patted her hand. “You just remember that when you have to drink cups and cups of it today.”
Perhaps one of the witchlings could come to distract her. And maybe she could talk one of them into sneaking her a wee scone to have with her tea.
Lauren snorted and patted her hand. “Good luck with that.”
Drat. Having her every thought heard was going to have some downsides.
Sophie’s eyes twinkled. “That will be good motivation to practice talking.”
Surely a sick old woman deserves a little spoiling?
Lauren grinned and looked at Sophie, who nodded. “If you’re feeling up to it, there are a whole lot of people who’d like to lay eyes on a sick old woman.”
And wasn’t that the point of visitors, to distract the sick from the nasty things healers forced upon them?
Sophie pushed a button on the wall. “Jamie, can you take down the walls again? Aunt Moira’s ready to see some friendly faces.”
Moira gasped as the walls fell and the sky opened above her head. Perhaps the low-hanging moon hadn’t been a dream.
Then she saw the faces, and the flowers. Dozens of people—no, hundreds. So many of those she loved—witch and non-witch, from the village and from the other side of the world. With the same message of love in every set of eyes.
And, oh. Every one of them clutched handfuls of irises and peach blossoms. For health and long life.
Her heart spilled over with the joy of it.
~ ~ ~
Sophie wandered through her herbals room, gently touching each jar and bundle of hanging herbs. The room smelled lightly of the lavender she’d harvested and hung at the last full moon. Aervyn had taxied her home to gather some things she would need to care for Aunt Moira.
She’d come to collect. She’d also come to say goodbye.
This house was her haven. While she loved the bonds of communal magic, in her heart, she was a solitary witch. Or perhaps, a solitary woman who happened to be a witch. Even as a small girl, she’d spent many happy hours alone, wandering the forests or the beach, or sitting quietly in a café watching the world go by.
This house in Colorado had been her retreat. Her solace. The place she’d planted herself when it had become clear Fisher’s Cove couldn’t be her home.
She loved it so much she’d built its double in Realm. Other players had castles and keeps, or sorcerer’s cottages. She had an odd little mid-century ranch house with spectacular gardens. It would still be there to comfort her as she left the real home of her heart behind.
Gently she closed the door of her herbals room and left her gathering bag by the door. Her gardens called, one last time. She touched the dahlias and columbine, inhaled the lemony scent of sorrel, and laughed quietly at the mint, which had managed to take over half the garden in her two-day absence.
Hopefully the new owners would like mint tea.
She let her tears fall. There was no better place than a garden to soak up sorrows and turn them to good use. These were not entirely unhappy tears. Change was coming in her life, and much of it was very good.
A wonderful man awaited her and the child they had made together. And Aunt Moira was doing amazingly well for someone who had suffered a catastrophic stroke.
But she would need care. Long-term care from a trained healer.
There were others who would serve, others who would help. The witching community always took care of their own, and Aunt Moira was the most beloved of witches. It wasn’t necessary for Sophie to go, to uproot and leave her home.
But it was right.
Even as tears fell and she said her goodbyes, her heart was sure. The next chapter of her life would be written in Fisher’s Cove.
~ ~ ~
“She wants to go home.” Elorie sat on the arm of Aaron’s chair, having done one of her best things and convened a meeting. “Is that possible?”
“I hope so.” Nell grinned. “She’s getting as grumpy as Aervyn when he’s sick.”
Elorie sighed. That was the reason for the meeting. “I know. I keep reminding myself that cranky patients get better more quickly.”
Sophie laughed. “I’m beginning to think she taught us that all those years to make a good excuse for her bad behavior now.” She sobered. “We can definitely get her home—she’s well enough to be transported. But she’s going to need a lot of care once she gets there. Are we ready for that?”
Aaron squeezed Elorie’s waist. “I can make sure she’s got lots of bland, mushy stuff to eat. No broth.”
Elorie giggled. Gran had practically thrown the last cup of soup at the poor witch delegated to get her to drink it. The good news was that she’d thrown it with her right hand. As a result, Sophie had ordered cups of broth sent in every thirty minutes. Throwing things was good physical therapy.
Nell shook her head. “You know you’re truly loved when people are drawing straws for the chance to have you hurl pottery at them. Aervyn won the last draw, and he’s all excited to go visit her.”
Mike rubbed his head. “Tell him to duck faster than I did.”
“Emotional swings will be a part of her recovery process,” Sophie said. “Her brain is in remarkable shape, but it still has some serious recovery to do. Expect her to have a little more of a trigger temper than usual.”
“Now you tell us.” Elorie stood up and stretched, still kind of creaky from napping in odd places. “On that happy note, what else will she need?”
Sophie started to tick off on her fingers. “Someone staying with her round the clock, since she can’t get out of bed yet. Regular healing to help her nerves and tissues recover, so she gains back some of her lost abilities. Soaks in that marvelous pool of hers. A reason to get up in the morning and function.”
Excellent. Lists she could work with. Elorie started running through the possibilities. “A reason is easy. She has a new healer to train. Lizzie’s clearly got at least some talent in that direction.”
Sophie smiled slowly. “A trainee. That’s absolutely perfect.”
“She can have two,” Nell said. “We couldn’t figure it out in time to get healers to Moira without moving her, but Jamie and Aervyn have worked out how to shuttle someone through Realm to a different real-world location than where they started. We can send Ginia to Moira. California’s very short of healers, so getting her some training would be a wonderful thing.”
“That would be helpful,” Mike said. “She’s actually got some good skills already, and perhaps Moira would object less to monitoring from her own students.”
Elorie loved watching a plan come together. “I’ll stay with her for now, and the witchlings can help during the day.”
Marcus shook his head. “No. I’ll stay with her. She’ll need lifting and carrying, and you shouldn’t be doing that in your condition. I’ll move my things to her guest bedroom.”
Dead silence greeted his pronouncement. Uncle Marcus was going to move in with Gran?
He looked around. “What? You think I can’t take care of one cranky old witch?”
Nell snickered. “Well, you’ve had plenty of experience with the cranky part.”
“I know how to throw the cup back at her,” Marcus said dryly.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Sophie said. She winked at Elorie. “It will give Aunt Moira lots of incent
ive to get better quickly.”
It would surely do that. Uncle Marcus as nurse. Egads.
Elorie tried to remember the rest of Sophie’s list and get her meeting back on track. “What about healing? We’ve got several healers in Nova Scotia, but Gran was the only one in our village. I can set up a rotation for people to come stay at the inn for a while.”
“We can bring healers from farther away, too,” Jamie said. “With the newly tweaked shuttle spell, Aervyn and I can taxi anyone in through Realm.”
That would be amazingly handy, but it seemed like a big load for a small boy. “Isn’t he tired from all the people he moved around yesterday?”
Nell shook her head. “Nope. We fed him cookies. He’ll be fine.”
Mike took Sophie’s hand. “Help will be welcome, but Sophie and I can handle a lot of the healing.”
Elorie shook her head. They were newlyweds, and just starting a new life together. Gran would have been the first to object to intruding on that very special time.
Sophie held up a hand to stall her protests. “Is that small cottage to the left of Aunt Moira’s still for sale?”
Elorie frowned. “You mean that awful shack? Sophie, nobody could live there.” It had been for sale for ten years.
“No, but we could build there.” Mike kissed the top of Sophie’s head, and then grinned at Elorie. “We figure Seedling will have built-in playmates that way.”
They were going to move? Elorie’s heart stuttered in shock and joy. Earth witches never moved.
Sophie smiled. “I love her too, and she needs us now.”
It was an enormous gift of love, and not only for Gran. Elorie’s mind swam with visions of shared dinners and little ones playing together, morning soaks in Gran’s pool, and the everyday joys of a sister next door.
All that was left was a proper Nova Scotia welcome. Elorie held out her arms. “Welcome to Fisher’s Cove, you two. We’ll have a gathering. Nothing will get Gran well faster.”
Her meeting dissolved into a cacophony of well wishes and celebration.