by Diane Story
“But a father nonetheless. Unlike you, I have my youth back, and my anger is healed. I am a powerful witch, James, now that my Mary is safe from your Sarah I will leave here. I have but one thing left to do, and I must go now.” Reaching up, she kissed him goodbye then walked back through the dazed crowd to address Jonathan first.
“Elizabeth, I do not understand this madness. Where is Mary?” Jonathan wanted to demand the information from her, but the woman had changed. Youth, beauty and a gentle heart prevented him from pressing her.
“Jonathan Nichols, thy Mary awaits you at your cottage by the River Ipswich. Ye are free now to wed my daughter. I give you my blessing,” Elizabeth said.
“But, what of my child, Elizabeth? Rose is mine, is she not?” Jonathan replied.
“Aye, she is. But Rose is the most powerful witch of us all, Jonathan Nichols. She has been bestowed the gift of love. Her mission in this life is to share that love, and to give it.” Reaching for his hand, she held it. “Your Rose has already found her own true love, you must let her go now.”
“How can that be? She is but a babe,” Jonathan replied.
“Our world has many secrets, Jonathan. You will see her again. Go now, your Mary awaits you.” She watched the two men exchange glances before Jonathan left. Once he was gone she took Rowen’s hand in hers. “Come, walk with me, and let us let these good people of Village Salem ponder what they have witnessed today.”
Rowen walked beside her, relaxed. Amazingly, relaxed. “Where is Fern, Elizabeth?”
“First things first, Rowen Nichols.” She sat on a fallen tree trunk next to the water and gestured for him to join her. When he was eye level, she smiled into his eyes. “Tis been a horrible week, has it not?”
“Yes, it has. My family journals have been incorrect in so many ways. I no longer know what I’m supposed to believe.” He sighed, thinking about Fern.
“You are not of Jonathan’s blood.” She watched as surprise settled on his face. “You see Rowen, that babe that Sarah holds today is your great ancestor. Because the child was born with the name Nichols, it could not be changed. Sarah and James will not have any more children, you will be their only descendent.”
“So, Fern and I aren’t related by blood! This will make her happy.” He languished in the thought of Fern’s happiness. “So, why did you take Fern’s place on the gallows? You could have died if I’d have missed.”
“In order for me to be released from my own curse of hatred I had to take her place. You see, Rowen Nichols, I once loved a man more than life itself. That man is James Hauthorn. But he didn’t share my love. When I became heavy with his child, Mary, he turned his back on me, refusing to marry me. I was already a witch, but I was inexperienced. I cast a spell on him, making his heart bitter. But to do so I had to sacrifice my youth. The sisters were angry, so angry that they placed a spell on me. I would remain angry, old and bitter until I could sacrifice myself for the sake of love.”
Rowen knew where she was going with her tale. “So when Mary was hung on the gallows, you spoke your curse, knowing you would be able to save her and her seventeenth generation by sacrificing yourself. In turn, breaking the spell of your sisters.”
“Aye, and I am thankful it has worked. Now the women of my blood will be safe.”
“Can you tell me now where Fern is? I wish to be with her.” Rowen released her hands and stood, waiting for her to answer.
“You will find her at the orphanage where she grew up, Rowen Nichols. She too has many questions that must be answered still.” Elizabeth stood then and prepared to leave him. “Go back through the wardrobe to your own time. Once you are through, I will burn it. It will cease to exist.”
Rowen watched her walking away as he yelled one last question. “Is Fern a witch?” He thought he caught a hint of Elizabeth’s familiar old cackle.
“But of course she is, all of the women of my blood are witches, Rowen Nichols.” Elizabeth did cackle then, amused by the look on his face.
Rowen left her, running back to where the wardrobe stood in the tiny cave beyond the meadow. He barely had enough room to open the door. He was just ready to step through when he caught sight of gold glittering on the floor. Bending down, he pulled the gold chain with the gold cross out from beneath the rock where Fern, no, Jonathan had hidden it. Hanging it around his neck, he decided to bring it with him. Fern deserved to own something from her past, from her ancestors. As he passed through the wardrobe, he swore he could smell the wood burning as he stepped into the other side.
* * * *
Fern sat staring at her birth records. Father Brewer was kind enough to allow her to look through them, but warned her that they were not complete. Even with everything spread out in front of her she still didn’t have a clue as to why Elizabeth had sent her here.
Their exchange was instantaneous, one moment she was ready to hang, the next she was standing on the steps of the church, her old orphanage. Elizabeth told her to look for and realize her identity, so, here she was. All alone and searching, but for what? She let her fingers run over her baby blanket, and her Jane Doe birth certificate. Then over the revised birth certificate naming her Fern Abbott. Then the tiny cloth booties and the tiny bonnet. The bonnet interested her, picking it up she let the frail material lay on her palms. Opening up the pleats, she could see how small her head must have been, for the thing was tiny. There were even a few red curls still stuck in the folds of the material. Putting it down, she decided to take a few for her keepsake album and was busy gently pulling the strands through when a piece of yellowed folded paper fell from it.
Her heart stopped in her chest. Staring down at it, she became suddenly afraid. She knew the paper had profound meaning. Reaching for it, she picked it up in her shaky hands.
Rowen stood watching Fern from the door. She was a lovely sight with her hair falling in copper waves down her back, still dressed in the old clothes. She was engrossed with what she was doing and didn’t hear him. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to hold her. “Hi, love.” He smiled when she nearly jumped from her chair.
“Rowen? Is it really you?” Fern let the piece of paper fall from her hand and ran into Rowen’s waiting arms. “How did you get back? Oh, don’t tell me, I don’t care as long as you’re here with me now.”
Rowen held her so tightly he was sure their bodies would fuse together, pulling back just long enough to kiss her tear-stained cheeks. “Don’t cry love. Don’t you know? It’s all over now. Everything is going to be all right. We can be together without the fear of the curse, or Elizabeth.”
“I know, Rowen. Elizabeth told me.” Fern rubbed her cheek against his chest.
“How…” He sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter how, does it?” Cupping her chin in his hand he tilted her head back and kissed her deeply, until they were both breathless and clinging to each other. “I want to take you home now, are you done here?”
Fern turned her head and stared at the paper on the table. “I have just one more thing to do, will you leave me for just a moment, Rowen? I think I need to be alone while I do this.”
“Sure love, I’ll wait outside. But hurry, I don’t know how long I can be without you.” Laughing, he kissed her one more time before leaving.
Fern made sure the door was closed, and then she walked back to sit down in front of the paper. Her trembling fingers slowly unfolded it and her heart stopped as she read the words written, seventeen generations ago. “Take care of this child until the time comes for her mother to take her home. She is a child of love and as beautiful as a Rose.”
“Welcome home, Rose!”
Fern turned and watched the priest come toward her. The same priest she’d handed Rose to that night so long ago. Except for a few gray hairs on his temples, he looked the same. “Who are you, really?” she asked.
“Does it matter now? You have fulfilled your destiny, and all is well.”
“Where do I go now?” She asked, thinking about Rowen.
&n
bsp; “You have been bestowed the gift of love. The power is yours to do with it as you wish. Follow your heart, granddaughter.”
She stood quickly when he turned to leave. “Grandmamma?” As the door to the adjoining room closed she smiled. The gentle laughter, mixed with an amusing cackle of an old witch she once knew penetrated her memories.
Rowen stood waiting outside the door as Fern asked. Pacing back and forth, he wondered what was taking so long. Making a decision, he reached for the handle only to have it pulled from the tips of his fingers. Fern was there, standing in the doorway she looked like an angel, smiling and at peace. “I thought I was going to have to come in after you, love, you had me worried.”
“I’m done now, ready to go home?” Fern reached for his hand and led him back down the long hallway.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Rowen asked.
“Y…es, yes, I did, Rowen.” Fern smiled to herself. It all made so much sense now. After Rowen helped her settle into her seat next to him in his convertible, she turned toward him and watched his profile as he drove them back to his mansion. She loved this man more than life itself. She would stay with him for all eternity, and she would have his children. He was her destiny.
Rowen felt her eyes on him, and it felt good. “So, tell me. Do I still get to call you Fern?”
“No!” she answered.
“No?” he replied.
“No. My name is Rose Elizabeth Wilds. You, sir, may call me, Rose.” She grasped the dashboard when Rowen swerved to the side of the road.
Rowen turned in his seat and looked at her. He studied her face for a long time, not knowing how to reply to her news. She was Fern, but she was different. In his haste to get her home, he missed it. The way her hair curled around her chin instead of hanging straight. The soft pink hue of her lips, and the twinkle in her eyes. “Rose? You’re Rose?” He watched as she shook her head. “Mary is your mother and Elizabeth… she is your grandmother. Do you realize that this means you are also a witc…?”
“Witch? Yes Rowen, I am a witch. I am a witch of love. My mission in life is to create and nurture love. But, I have already completed my mission.” Reaching out, she traced his strong jaw with her fingertip. “I have found love. Now my job is to nurture it, and watch it grow. A job I wholeheartedly look forward to. Please, take me home so that I can show you how I intend to start.”
Rowen didn’t take his eyes off her as he started the car. He drove home in silence, thinking and wondering if she would be happy to stay with him. If she were the witch of love, would she be content with what he had to offer alone?
Later that night when Rose pulled the blankets from him and started to make love to him, he rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed with his back to her. “Fern? I mean Rose. Will you be content with me now that you know who you are? You have the power to go anywhere you want. Elizabeth said you are the most powerful of all of them, why wouldn’t you want to stay with them and use that power?” He closed his eyes when he felt her lips on his spine, working their way up to rest behind his ear.
“My love, don’t you know the answer to your own question? If I am the witch of love, then I must know love. I love you! Can’t you feel it? Can’t you see it?” She nibbled on his ear lobe. “And can’t you taste it? Without your love, my powers will die. I am nothing without you. Come to me, look at me my darling. Make love to me.” Rose fell back on the bed and waited for him. She knew he would come to her.
Rowen stood and looked down at her. He was angry with himself for doubting their love. “And I love you… Rose.” Gently he pulled the blanket completely from the bed, exposing her body to his hungry eyes. He leaned on one knee and kissed her abdomen. “Now, you won’t teach our daughter how to cast spells, promise?”
Rose giggled. “Of course not, if that is what my husband wishes of me.” She arched her back when his teeth nipped one of her erect nipples.
Straddling her with one knee on each side, he teased both breasts until he had her writhing and begging him for more. “And our sons will not be allowed to mix toads with bird’s livers to make girls like them, right?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know Rowen. What if they are born ugly, won’t they need the help of a spell?” She bit her tongue when he brushed his tongue over the sensitive nub hidden in the folds between her thighs.
Rowen lifted her hips with his hands and pleasured her with his tongue until she moaned, begging him to make love to her. “And when I make you my wife, you promise not to put me under any spells to get your way anytime you want?” He trailed kisses up her abdomen until he could once again suckle her voluptuous breasts.
Rose crossed her fingers. “And what makes you think I do not have you under a spell right now?” She yelped with pleasure when he entered her body, bringing her instant gratification.
“Because love, there is no spell more powerful than love. When I make love to you, it is with my own love. And that can never be broken.” He held her hands in his as they made love, and he cried when they both met their equally perfect peaks at the same time. Trembling, he held her body close to his until he was sure their souls were one.
Hours later, as the moon cast its yellow glow over their damp bodies, Rowen gave Rose her cross. “I found this before I came back through the wardrobe. I felt you should have it.”
Rose held it in her hand and then clutched it to her breast. “This is the only thing I have left of my parents, Rowen. Thank you for bringing it to me.”
“You understand we can never go back now, Rose. Elizabeth burned the wardrobe,” Rowen told her.
Rose looked across to where the wardrobe used to stand, and thought for sure she might have heard a faint whisper. Goodbye sweet Rose, we shall love you forever. “I know, but that’s Ok, isn’t it, Rowen? After all, we have our future to look forward to, and our children’s, and their children’s…”
Rowen reached for her. “Right now, love, let’s just work on ours. Come here.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As a young girl, I grew up in a small rustic mountain community in the beautiful California Sierras. My mother, bless her heart, got me started reading romance novels at the age of 16. Within a few months I was reading one a week and sometimes one a day. It was then that I knew I would one day help transport someone else into a world of love and romance. After attending college in California in the early 1980’s, I began a long career working in Medical Insurance.
Twenty-seven years, one husband, two kids and two grandbabies later, I finally sat down to my laptop and started writing. The Overlanders Bride and Bewitching My Love were the result. After what seems a lifetime, I’m able to work on my goal as a romance novelist. And yes, :-) Diane Story is my real name.
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