And then she felt the herb, which gave her another jolt. The one her mother had given her and said no one else could grow because it needed her magic.
She felt the other powers fade as she connected with the herb and it gave her its name—Jiaogo, related to the Chinese herb Jiaogulan. It told her the original Jiaogo plant had been found among many others by her male ancestor but, decades later, the plant had become extinct in China. The one she had, the one this herb had come from, was the last one in existence on earth.
“Jiaogo,” she whispered, and the others whispered it after her. “Thank you.”
She sensed the herb’s eagerness to work with her and for a few minutes they seemed to be making progress, but then sweat began to bead on her forehead and it was taking all of her energy to stay connected.
A white light balled around the leaf and wound its way around her aura and magic, strengthening, encouraging, helping. It was Daniel, using his Augmentor power to boost her own magic.
A moment later, the beaker gave off a puff of greenish-white mist, and Elizabeth slumped against the table, exhausted.
Daniel wrapped her in his arms. “Are you all right?”
She looked into his face and knew she had to speak the truth. “You are dear to me.”
He clutched her to him. “And you to me.”
“Did we succeed?”
Marigold’s triumphant voice said, “Yes!”
Thinking back to his words when he was discussing his power, Elizabeth said, “Your mother is more powerful than you? I don’t ever want to make her upset with me.”
I Can’t Take It if This Doesn’t Work
Daniel’s magic seemed to have won the support of the local coven. His magic and Elizabeth’s meshed and matched perfectly. When they’d been connected magically, he’d felt stronger and happier than he’d ever been. It wasn’t until afterward that the fears about his mother had crept back in.
Would the potion heal her? It had definitely sparked and that meant it worked—but as what? Lorraine had been attempting a Fruitcake of Youth potion, but there’d been so many mistakes in it that who knew what she’d actually created. And had they been able to overcome Lorraine’s mistakes to create what his mother needed?
He glanced at the car’s clock. Nine o’clock on Christmas Eve.
If this didn’t work, the curse would take his mother tomorrow afternoon. She had less than one day left. He would spend every minute with her from now until that happened and, when she dropped into sleep tonight, he’d try to find a solution for the curse.
But he’d been searching for years and found nothing. This was her best and only hope. It had to work.
He helped Elizabeth out of his car. She was still weak, but was able to walk without his help now, so she was recovering. He took her hand, and they felt as right together as their magic had.
She held the magical envelope containing the beaker. She hadn’t dared pour from the beaker into a vial, but capped it and placed it into the bespelled envelope. And now she clutched that envelope to her chest as though it held the secret of the ages.
As it did. The secret to whether his mother would live or die today.
He opened the door and gently touched Elizabeth’s arm as she walked inside. She looked up at him, dark circles under her eyes from working her magic, but she was beaming up at him. Her smile lit his heart.
“I hope this works,” she whispered.
“So do I.” He nodded. “Let’s go see.”
His mother slept in her recliner. He touched her arm and she awakened and smiled. “You’re here. I’m so glad.” She was growing visibly weaker and could barely raise her hand to welcome them. It dropped back into her lap.
“I think we may have it, Mom.” He motioned toward the envelope.
Her eyes opened wide in hope. “The potion?”
Daniel nodded. “We think we’ve fixed Lorraine’s mistakes. The entire coven helped.”
Elizabeth sank to her knees by his mother’s recliner, and carefully pulled out the beaker. “Get a glass, Daniel?”
He hurried to do so, bringing his mother’s favorite little cup, one with Mickey Mouse on it.
Elizabeth oh-so-carefully poured half the potion inside. “Do you think that’s enough?”
“It should be plenty.” He left unsaid if it works at all.
She handed it to his mother and Daniel helped lift the cup to her lips, and helped her while she took little sips.
Finally, the cup was empty, and they waited to see what would happen. Would she grow younger and live? Or would she die?
Nothing seemed to happen, and they continued to sit and wait. And wait.
His mother closed her eyes and fell into a light sleep.
He found Elizabeth’s gaze and she took his hand. He pulled her into his arms. “I can’t take it if this doesn’t work.” His voice was rough.
“I know,” she said, holding him tightly.
And then she did something unexpected. She leaned forward and kissed him again. Lightly. Sweetly. Comfortingly. And then pulled back.
There was a light tinkle of laughter, and they both turned, surprised.
His mother looked ten years younger as she clasped her hands to her heart. “You’re in love!”
“You’re better!” he cried out.
“Thank you,” his mother told Elizabeth.
The beautiful woman beside him—his Lifemate!—smiled gently. “You’re very welcome. I couldn’t have done it without your son’s powers.”
His mother reached out her hand and Elizabeth took it. “You have to spend Christmas with us. Stay here with us tonight, unless you have other plans?”
Elizabeth nodded, pleased. “Thank you. I have no plans.”
Epilogue: I Haven’t Even Asked Her Yet
Elizabeth awoke on Christmas Day to the sound of voices and laughter. She glanced at her phone. It was seven. For Christmas Day, that was sleeping in.
Somebody gave a soft knock, and she pulled on a loaned robe, then opened the door.
Holly looked thirty years younger, even younger than her fifty-five years. “Come on down. We’re about to open presents.”
“I didn’t bring any.”
“You saved my life. Isn’t that enough of a present?” Holly hugged her, then stepped back with a light tinkle of laughter. “Hurry, before Daniel eats all the cookies we left out for Santa.”
“I’ll get dressed—”
Holly motioned to her own pajamas. “You look great. We’re all in our pajamas.”
“Okay.” Why not? She followed Holly down the stairs, hardly believing that this was the same woman who’d been sitting in a recliner ready to die last night. She had new respect for fruitcake.
“Oh, wait. I forgot to wish you a happy birthday.”
Holly smiled. “Thank you for remembering. And I’m still alive. That’s awesome. You’re some witch being able to break that spell.”
“Daniel amplified my powers or I couldn’t have done it.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Elizabeth caught sight of the lit Christmas tree with an angel on top. Presents were scattered around the base of the tree, more than she remembered. Though she had to admit she’d been so worried about Holly’s health, and exhausted from performing the potion magic, that she might just not have noticed.
Marigold, Chicory, and Daniel were there. He held out a hand to her. She wrapped her arms about his waist and he whispered, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
When she pulled away, her friends were smiling. “You’re here early.”
“We wanted to make sure you and Holly were all right.” Chicory grinned. “You did it. You created a youth potion.”
“We did it,” Elizabeth said. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. I’m so glad to be part of this coven.”
The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Holly said, moving spryly. A moment later, she came back in—with the Oracle of Delphi!
Dressed in her
Grecian robes, her hair pulled back in luxurious draping braids, gold hanging from her earlobes and around her neck, she looked like a queen. She told Elizabeth, “You did well.”
This was huge praise from the Oracle, and Elizabeth’s heart warmed. “Thank you.”
“Our children are going to be powerful witches,” Daniel muttered.
She grinned up at him. “Christmas witches.”
The doorbell rang again. This time, Amber and Sheriff Winston and their little boy, Caleb, stood there. The boy was about seven years old and cute as a button, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Amber said, “We just wanted to stop by to say hello on our way to my in-law’s house to open presents. And see how you are.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth ruffled his hair. “Hi, mutt.”
Fifteen minutes later, Amber and Caleb walked out to their truck.
Elizabeth put her hand on the sheriff’s sleeve. “What happened to Lorraine?”
“She’s in custody, to be turned over to the Council office in London. Apparently it’s a big no-no to steal valuable magical fruitcake, especially if it belongs to the Oracle.” He turned to the Oracle and nodded his head. “Good morning, ma’am.”
The Oracle inclined her head coolly.
The sheriff left and the Oracle turned to Holly. “In return for the Fruitcake of Youth, I need your help in completing a task. Not at this time, but soon.”
Holly said, “Gladly.”
Then the Oracle shot Elizabeth a hint of a smile. “I suppose I must thank you for saving Christmas!”
“You’re welcome.” Elizabeth shrugged. “But I still don’t understand how I saved Christmas.”
The Oracle stretched a hand toward Daniel’s mother. “Holly married a Grant, but her maiden name is Christmas. And you saved her.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I guess I did.”
A present floated through the air toward her and she snagged it. “For me?” she asked, surprised.
Holly said, “There’s no point in having magical powers if you can’t use them for good.”
The Oracle left, and presents began marching toward the three of them, and they commenced opening.
After everything was unwrapped, Holly said. “Thank you again, my dear. And I just want to say, welcome to the family. I am going to love having you for my daughter-in-law.”
“Mom, I haven’t even asked her yet. We’ve only had one date.”
“Well, hop to it. I’ve got a lot of years ahead of me and I want some grandchildren to spoil.” She walked into the kitchen.
Daniel pulled Elizabeth into his arms on the couch. “You heard my mother, right?”
She nodded, smiling. “I like you, but that seems like skipping a few steps.”
“Yeah, like getting to know each other better.” He leaned his forehead against her. “Will you date me for a month or two before we talk about marrying and giving my mother some grandchildren to spoil?”
She smiled, joy filling her heart. “Yes.”
Now it really was her best Christmas ever.
~ The Happy Ending ~
Want to read more? Click here to find other books by Heather Horrocks (several books are currently free … Bah, Humbug!, The Artist Cries Wolf, and Pride and Precipitation).
About the Author
Heather Horrocks is the USA Today bestselling author of numerous light-hearted, funny, feel-good books (Moonchuckle Bay paranormal romances, Chick Flick Clique and Christmas Street romantic comedies, Who-Dun-Him Inn cozy mysteries), plus the Women Who Knew inspirational series. The first book in her Christmas Street series, Bah, Humbug!, is currently in development as a TV movie.
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Gifts and Ghosts: A Christmas Carol
A Ghost Story of Christmas
Amanda A. Allen
Summary
A Mystic Cove Short Story
Harper Oaken is a former foster child whose life is haunted by what she’s experienced. Her past effects everything—even her newfound love. Which is when a ghost appears…
Chapter One
Bridget was dead. There was never any doubt about that, for Harper had seen Bridget’s body, her blank staring eyes, and the crime that had been wrought. Bridget had been murdered, her life stolen, and the tragedy bothered Harper still. Maeve, Bridget’s sister, had clutched Harper’s arm through the funeral, fingers digging in tightly.
Harper wasn’t sure why the dead girl was in Harper’s thoughts so much lately. Maybe because Harper had snagged Maeve’s favorite picture of her first family and had an artist turn it into a painting. Since Maeve had become Harper’s adopted sister, they’d had a bond based off of having a rough start.
You needed to own where you’d come from. Maeve had come from a loving mother—lost too soon—and a sister who’d kept Maeve out of foster care and spent every moment caring for her until Bridget had been murdered protecting her sister.
Harper had to wonder…was she being a good enough sister to Maeve? After all, Bridget had died for her kid sister. Did Maeve feel the loss even more because Harper couldn’t fill those shoes?
Harper—who had lost her first family too—knew all too well how conflicting it was to love two families and have two histories. She knew what it felt like to love your current life and regret what had been lost…that was hard. But Harper wasn’t so sure Maeve loved her current life all that much. Harper took a deep, shuddering breath and shook off the melancholy thoughts.
Today wasn’t a day for people. Not for Harper. Today was a day for moving, for avoiding, for…not messing everything up. Her phone had buzzed again. She already knew it was Quinton, her…whatever he was. She just couldn’t. Not then.
Harper glanced over her shoulder and then hurried down the street faster. Her scarf was knotted tight around her throat, and her jacket collar was turned up, but the cold was still sinking through. Her quick breaths made puffs of white air in the darkening sky.
She glanced at her store as she passed it, but she didn’t go in. She didn’t want those who might be looking for her to find her. Not then. She wanted to visit a grove and think. She didn’t act like a druid very often, but her soul was craving the solace of the trees and the soothing effect of the roots wound together, united, and whole.
“Well if it isn’t Harper Oaken,” one of Mystic Cove’s crones said.
Harper raised a hand and tried to keep going, but Old Mrs. Lovejoy said, “Wait, girl.”
Harper paused, turning slowly. Harper had never liked the woman, and she nearly the last person that Harper wanted to see right then.
“You need to let that boy go,” Mrs. Lovejoy said without preamble. Her wrinkled face was sour, narrowed eyes, pursed lips, chin pressed to her neck.
Harper considered and then said, “What do you know about it?”
Quinton, “that boy” was, she supposed… her boyfriend. Maybe. Thinking it made her feel itchy. He was her something. They spent parts of every day together. She texted him as soon as she woke up and he was the last person she talked to at night. She missed him when he wasn’t around, and she didn’t know what to do about that. It felt…very, very suffocating.
“I know that despite how the Oaken women took you in, you aren’t one of them. They’re kind. They think of others. They do things like adopt no-good brats.”
Harper had long since learned to hide her emotions, but internally she was stupefied. Who said these things? Well…besides Harper and Gram. Was this karma? She had to admit it probably was.
“That boy Quinton deserves someone like your sister, Scarlett. Not like you. You gonna light him on fire the next time he upsets you? You gonna steal his cats like you did to the librarian? You’re trash, girl. You don’t deserve him. There are girls in this town who do.”
Harper spun on her heel and left before she did something her mother would regret. She breathed in deeply and tried
hooting it out, striving for calm. It didn’t work.
“Run away,” Mrs. Lovejoy called after Harper and anyone within a half mile, “Coward.”
Harper had been intending to hit the tiny grove in the Central Park of Mystic Cove but she veered back to her car. It was down the street from her shop, a black Dodge Charger, and she jumped in before she got trapped by her sister, her nieces, or…that boy she should dump.
She’d been in a foul mood before, but Mrs. Lovejoy spreading her poison around…now…now Harper couldn’t be trusted around other humans or…for that matter…anywhere that her humans might try to find her.
She had been antsy for days, and working on her feet all day in her shop hadn’t helped. She’d changed her window dressing three times since Thanksgiving, but it wasn’t changing how she felt; both watched and alone at the same time.
She’d gone out to the Oaken Family House and chopped wood last weekend, but it hadn’t helped. You’d think that being a druid and near the family grove, she’d have been soothed, but no. She had actually gone for a run—which had been a terrible mistake—and that hadn’t helped. It was like her flesh was crawling with the knowing, her talents wouldn’t leave her be, but she couldn’t read what her abilities were trying to tell her. She just knew something was up. Something was off.
She had thought meditating in a grove—where her family couldn’t see—would help. Harper wasn’t one for wandering the trees alone, let alone assuming the lotus position and melding her energies with their beloved trees. The Central Park Grove was out now that Mrs. Lovejoy ruined Harper’s mood.
Where to go? Her mind considered the Circle’s massive grove, but it was too possible that other druids from the Circle would be there. She could imagine how that would roll out. No matter the druid, they’d see her, they’d know something was off, and her mother would get as many texts as there were druids in the Grove.
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