“Shouldn’t she be in the hospital?”
“It’s a possibility if the treatment doesn’t work, but for right now Dr. Goodwin is taking good care of her.”
“What’s wrong?”
As I explained about her condition, I held the tote bag tightly to my chest so he couldn’t accidentally see the spines of the pregnancy books. I didn’t want him learning the news from me. I’d made a promise to Harper.
He said, “I knew she hadn’t been feeling well lately, but I never thought it was that bad.”
“None of us did. Not even Harper.”
He glanced toward my house, on the other side of the green. I wanted to give him a shove in its direction but managed to keep my hands to myself.
“She is pretty stubborn,” he said.
“She’s not the only one,” I said steadily. This time I wanted to hit him upside the head with the heavy tote. I gripped its straps even more tightly before I acted on the impulse.
He looked at me.
I looked back.
“It’s … Things are out of my control.”
“Did you sell your house? Because that seems like it would be in your control.”
Slowly, he began to straighten, standing upright. Jaw up, shoulders back. This was the Marcus I knew. The one who’d fight for truth and justice, who’d righted wrongs. He might look boy-next-door, but deep down he was a take-charge kind of guy.
“It’s complicated. My mother…”
“Shouldn’t be making you choose.”
“And my father … What he did.”
It suddenly occurred to me that he and Harper were more alike than I ever realized. He’d been too immersed in his parents’ pain to deal with his own. He’d thrown himself into trying to help them emotionally and physically, while Harper had occupied herself with every activity under the sun.
Neither had dealt with their own pain.
Their own grief.
I again adjusted the strap of the tote bag that was cutting into my shoulder. “I know you’ve had a lot to deal with, but no one in this village is judging you for what happened before you were even born. You are as much a victim as anyone in that case.”
“You’re nice to say so, but I feel the stares.”
“People stare because they’re nosy. This village is the nosiest place on the planet.”
That, at least, elicited a half smile out of him.
“Marcus, there’s nothing you can do about other people. You can only be who you are. You love your parents, the good and the bad. That’s nothing to be ashamed of or to hide from. There’s not a person around who doesn’t understand that kind of unconditional love.”
He broke eye contact to look once again at my house.
I added, “Look, you’re a grown man. At some point, the decisions you make need to be yours. Not someone else’s. Not Harper’s. Not your mother’s. Yours. I shouldn’t have to tell you that, but it seems to me you need to hear it. What do you want to do with your life, Marcus?”
“It’s not that easy, Darcy.”
“Life isn’t easy, Marcus. For any of us.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped package. “Will you give this to Harper for me?”
“You should give it to her yourself.”
He continued to hold it out, and with a sigh, I took it, and started walking away. Then, I stopped and turned back to him. “Come with me. See her. Talk to her. Really talk.”
“She probably hates me. After everything…”
All I could do was stare at him for a moment, fighting the urge to shake him until he came to his senses.
“If you truly think that,” I finally said, choosing my words carefully, “then you’re right, you shouldn’t see her. You should move far away and never think twice about who you left behind here in the village. Because she deserves better than someone who obviously doesn’t know her at all.”
I strode off, determined not to look back at him to see if had taken my words to heart.
If what I’d said didn’t get Marcus to reconsider his life choices, nothing would.
* * *
“What was that all about?” Harper asked as soon as I walked into the house.
She was sitting on the lower landing of the staircase in her fluffy robe, and had evidently witnessed my conversation with Marcus.
“What are you doing out of bed?” I glanced around for Higgins and saw he was outside with Missy. No sign of Annie, but she tended to sleep most of the day.
“Dr. Dreadful came by early. He said I could move about the house as long as I took it easy.”
“What else did he say?” I hated that I’d missed the appointment.
“He’s pleased with my progress.”
I set the tote bag on the hall table and took off my coat to hang in the closet. “Did he really say pleased?”
“Well, he said I was making progress. I inferred the pleased part. I’m not sure he’s ever been pleased in his life.”
“Progress is good.” Although she still looked like death warmed up, color had returned to her face. “Did you have lunch?”
“Ve and Archie came by with enough food for the whole village.”
“Did you eat any of it?”
“Some,” she said, picking at the carpet runner. “There was no way I was touching the spinach smoothie.”
I made a face. “Don’t blame you. Anyone else here?”
“Nick’s been here and gone again. Mom’s been here and gone. Pepe and Mrs. P have been here and gone. Ve and Archie have been here and gone. Mimi’s still sleeping. Did I ever sleep that long as a teenager?”
“Every chance you got.”
“Did you tell Mom everything?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And I had to listen to a lecture for a good ten minutes about taking care of myself. She’s worse than you are.”
“What did she say about the baby?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell her that part.”
“What? Harper…”
She laughed, and I forgot I had been briefly annoyed. She hadn’t laughed much lately, and I took a moment to appreciate the sound.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “Mom was … happy because I am happy about it. But, I could tell she’s worried. I don’t like worrying her.”
“She’s a mother. It’s what they do best.”
She met my gaze. “So I’m learning.”
I didn’t want her focusing on all the worries, so I motioned to the tote bag and said, “I brought you some books to help stave off death by boredom. Oh, and before I forget, can you access the cameras in the bookshop?”
“Yeah, from my phone or my tablet. Why?”
I told her about looking for the footage of Quinn. An exact time stamp of when she was in the shop would be nice.
“I’ll see what I can find. Oh, and before I forget, I found something strange in the ledgers Abby gave you. I already talked to Nick about it, but I also left a report on your desk.”
I glanced behind me. The double doors leading into my office were closed tight. “A report?”
“I was bored.”
I smiled. “I’m impressed, Harper. I stared at those ledgers for hours and didn’t see a thing. What did you find?”
“Creativity at its finest. In last year’s ledger, there are many instances of transactions for the same expense but named differently. For example, there was a debit listed for ‘medals’ but another for ‘race hardware.’ Same thing, right?”
“Yes.” And so much for Joe wanting those ledgers back so he could pay vendors.
Had Lucinda lied to me, too? Or had she just repeated something Joe had told her?
I was beginning to dislike the Bryants.
A lot.
“And,” Harper said, “another entry for ‘timing chips’ but also one for ‘services’ of the timing company itself. The company fee should have covered the timing chips, no?”
“The chips were included in
the fee.” I knew, because when I called the timing chip company on behalf of this year’s race, I’d asked for the same package used last year.
“That’s what I thought. There are six or seven instances of duplicates. Not to mention questionable expenses like ‘post-race snacks and beverages.’ Those items were donated, weren’t they?”
It was no wonder Abby thought she had messed up somewhere. Her columns didn’t include half of what had been listed last year. She probably thought she was missing receipts. “They were. I should have caught that. How much did all these extras amount to?”
“Well, I’m not sure which itemizations were the legitimate expense—you’ll need to check the receipts. But ballpark? Around five thousand dollars. The question is, where did the money go?”
Into Joe’s pocket was my guess. “Thank you. I was too busy looking at the numbers on the page to focus on where the money was going.”
She waved away my gratitude. “You’re welcome. Bed rest pays off sometimes.”
“Speaking of…” I held each up book I’d brought as I emptied the tote. All but the pregnancy trio were about witchcraft, her preferred reading material as of late. “All these books are guaranteed to keep you occupied for at least an hour or two.”
She scanned the titles. “I’ll take the baby books—that was nice of Angela to think of them. You can either keep the others for yourself or donate them.”
I stared. “What?”
“I don’t want them.”
“What?” I said again.
“I. Don’t. Want. Them.”
I took a deep breath and counted to ten in my head. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I’m done with them. Done with the Craft, too.”
“I don’t understand … I thought you were past that? I thought you had fully accepted the Craft?”
Harper hadn’t moved to the village in full acceptance of being a witch. She had been slow to warm up to something she could not scientifically explain. But when she had finally started using her magic a few months ago … I thought she finally saw magic the same way I did.
“I changed my mind. What has the Craft done for me, really? It can’t cure me completely. It certainly didn’t help Abby Stillwell, did it?”
My gaze lingered on the birch besom hanging next to the front door. Magic was reflected in every corner of my world, inside and out. It shook me to my core that Harper was willing to walk away from it. “The Craft helped find Abby, and it has helped you feel better, whether or not you want to admit it.”
“All the fancy magic in the world, and it can’t guarantee my baby will be okay, can it?”
Ah, the heart of the matter. My anger deflated. “I see.”
“See what? And please stop looking at me like that.”
I set my hands on my hips. “Like what?”
“Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it. Are we done yet?” she asked.
“With?” I said, trying not to lose my patience. I understood why she was lashing out. Fear often led to anger.
“Ignoring my initial question? What was that all about?” she asked, motioning toward the village green with her chin. “What were you and Marcus talking about?”
I handed her the pregnancy books, then put the wrapped present on top. “The package is from Marcus. If you want to know what we talked about, you should ask him yourself.”
Jutting her chin, she hugged the books and gift to her chest, then stood up. “I’m going to go take a nap. Dr. Dreadful’s orders. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”
Stubborn, just like Marcus had said.
I watched her go up the steps, then went up to my bedroom and grabbed my Craft cloak from the closet. Back downstairs, I made more copies of the photocopied ledgers and packed my tote bag. As much as I wanted to stick around the house, I had work to do. But first things first. I let the dogs in, then put on my Crafting cloak and went out the back door, and into the Enchanted Woods.
I needed to talk to my mother.
Chapter Sixteen
As beautiful as the Enchanted Woods were in every season, there was something breathtaking about them after a snowfall. The artist in me took mental notes on how the snow balanced delicately on outstretched branches. The way flakes stuck to the north sides of the tree trunks. The way drifts settled against fallen logs. I memorized textures and shadows, entranced by the loveliness around me.
Although the path was covered with fresh snow, I knew my way by heart. I recognized certain landmarks, like fallen trees, arched or gnarled branches, and lichen-covered boulders.
I’d walked this trail many times since moving to the village. At first this trek had brought trepidation as a visit the Elder’s meadow was usually a result of me breaking Craft laws.
I’d learned a lot since then, about the rules witches lived by, and the Craft itself, and about the Elder.
My mom.
I didn’t visit the meadow often anymore—my mother tended to drop by my house most mornings, and I found as I walked along that I’d missed the journey through these woods.
I took my time walking along, noting changes in the trees like they were friends I hadn’t seen in a while. I was startled out of my reverie when my cell phone rang, its tone jarring in the relative silence of the woods. I fumbled under my cape to find my phone in my pocket, then silenced the call as I glanced at the readout: Glinda.
The enchantment of the woods, and the measure of peace it had brought me, vanished instantly. I didn’t particularly want to talk with Glinda right now. I hadn’t had a chance to sort through my feelings where she was concerned, and until I did, I’d let her calls go to voice mail.
Was she friend or foe?
I hated that I was even thinking the question. Only because I thought we were past the foe stage of our relationship. It hurt to consider I might have been fooled. Again.
My phone blipped, alerting me to a voice mail. I listened as I walked.
“Hi Darcy, it’s Glinda. I was just wondering if you had time for cake testing tomorrow afternoon, and if so, could you set that up? If not, maybe Tuesday? Or Wednesday? My schedule is flexible. Let me know. Thanks. Bye.”
I wasn’t only reevaluating our friendship, but now also my decision to help Glinda plan her wedding. For some reason, I couldn’t help thinking I’d walked into some sort of trap.
My phone rang again almost immediately, and I was pleasantly surprised to see it was Nick.
I answered, keeping my voice low, “I feel like it’s been three weeks since I’ve seen you.”
He laughed. “We had breakfast together this morning. Why are you whispering?”
“It still feels like three weeks. And because I’m in the woods. It doesn’t seem right to use my full voice.”
As I finished the words, I noticed the woods had hushed around me. It was eerily quiet. Even though my cloak made me invisible to mortals, my voice could still be heard by all.
“Tough day?” he asked.
“Not as tough as yesterday, but I’m one thousand percent done with it.”
“Bold statement since it’s not even one o’clock yet.”
“By one o’clock, I might be two thousand percent done.” I brushed some snow off a log and sat down. “It’s been one of those days.” I told him what Noelle had said about Abby moving plus what happened at the Bewitching Boutique, my visit to Balefire, and running into Marcus.
“And now you’re in the woods?”
“Yep.” He knew what that meant. “I need to know why Glinda and Godfrey are so concerned about Harper’s baby.”
“I hope you get the answers you want.”
“Me, too.” Whether I would wasn’t guaranteed. There were some things about the Craft my mother thought I should learn on my own and others that she simply couldn’t share due to various Craft laws. However, since both Glinda and Godfrey knew, I thought there was a good chance she would tell me as well. “Are you home?”
“Not yet,” he said. “I wanted to let you know I
checked out the lead on Duncan Cole.”
“And?”
“One of the reasons he was so hard to find is that the New Hampshire racing team provides its runners with room and board. He was living in one of their houses.”
I picked up on the past tense. “Was?”
“He resigned a couple of months ago. The director of the team said Duncan had been struggling with injuries and opted to retire.”
I wondered what kind of performance enhancer he’d been caught using. If steroids, they could certainly lead to a body breaking down—and could also lead to personality changes, like being easy to anger. But blood doping didn’t carry those kinds of side effects. “Did the team director have a forwarding phone number or address for him?”
“The phone number’s been disconnected. The address is an apartment in Wakefield.”
“Wakefield, as in twenty minutes away Wakefield?”
“The very same. I’m heading over there now.”
As much as I wanted to go with him, I knew I couldn’t. There was no explaining why the chief of police brought his fiancée along on official police business.
“Be careful,” I said.
“Always.”
We said our mushy goodbyes, and I hung up.
I sat for a moment, simply enjoying the beauty of my surroundings. Slowly, the birdsong returned, and I heard scampering all around me. Squirrels ran from branch to branch, kicking off snow in their wake.
I switched my phone to vibrate before tucking it back into my pocket. The digital noise of its ringtone didn’t belong out here where the loudest sound was a woodpecker’s knocking.
After taking a moment to just be, I pressed onward, toward the Elder’s meadow. I soon spotted a familiar cake-shaped rock, which marked the turnoff I needed to take. I veered off the path, into a vast meadow covered in glittery snow. In its center stood a gnarled tree, its weeping branches weighted with snow and nearly touching the ground.
“Hello?” I called out.
In a blink, the meadow transformed from winter into summer, bursting into bold colors as snow melted away. Wildflowers bloomed. The tree shook off its wintry coat and leaves unfurled as the branches lifted upward as though stretching toward the sun.
To Catch a Witch Page 15