“What was he like?”
My mother’s eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “What do you mean?”
“We don’t talk about Dad a lot. I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately. Since I can’t remember him, I wanted to know if you could tell me about him.”
“Well, he worked as an accountant with a successful firm based in Manhattan. We lived in New Jersey to help keep his commute reasonable. He loved to watch sports and go fishing or play golf on the weekends.”
The way she was talking she could’ve been describing anyone. There were no emotion behind her words and I couldn’t quite paint a whole picture of him based off of what she had told me. I swallowed hard. “Were there any suspects in his murder case?”
“Quinn, let’s not talk about this now,” she begged. “It’s Christmas. We have new happy memories to create. Just let the dead, stay dead.”
I was taken aback by her sentiment. Her husband was gunned down in our home. Didn’t she want whoever did it brought to justice? My mother was always standoffish when I tried to broach the subject of my father. I shook away my thoughts and forced out, “Of course, Mom. We’ll talk about it another time.”
After a dinner of my homemade lasagna and crusty Italian bread, I curled up in bed with my mother. Mason and Stella had made themselves scarce and I appreciated the time alone with my mom. I rested my head against her chest and listened to the steady thrum of her heart.
“You’re okay though, Quinn? You look a little on the tired side.”
“I’m fine. Stella actually has some interesting stories to tell. She mixes in the history of witchcraft with her spellcasting lessons,” I explained. After a brief pause, I admitted, “I do get lonely.”
“How about Stella’s nephew? He seems close to your age. Do you spend anytime with him?”
If I was given the choice, I would spend all of my time with Mason. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a realistic option. I didn’t want to tell her that sometimes I longed to run over to his cottage and lose myself in him. His kisses had lit a fire inside of me that I didn’t know even existed. Looking back, my kisses with Tanner felt like the duty of a long-suffering girlfriend. With Mason, he owned my heart and body once his lips touched mine. Many nights I had to make a concentrated effort to not pull open the curtains when I heard his truck. I instead tortured myself with the imaginings of the many women he was leading into his bed.
“Mason is sort of a loner. Honestly, unless he’s fixing something inside of the house, I barely see him.”
My mother’s shrewd gaze didn’t seem to buy my feigned disinterest. “Well, it’s probably smart to keep your distance. Stella and her family are not to be trusted. Witches can easily turn on their own kind.”
I slept in my mother’s room that night. Her presence chased away the nightmares I usually had and for the first time in months I slept soundly.
Chapter Eighteen
My mother and I drifted downstairs to the smell of pastries and coffee. Stella summoned a small smile when she saw us enter the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, Quinn,” she said before addressing my mother, “Merry Christmas, Bridget.”
“Merry Christmas.” The tension in her shoulders relaxed slightly and my mother told her, “Thanks for inviting me to stay.”
“Of course. Your daughter has been a hard worker and deserves a break.” I wasn’t used to this kind and polite Stella. I kept expecting her to finish each sentence with a backhanded comment. I was certain that tomorrow she would return back to her normal crotchety old self.
The backdoor opened and Mason walked in. All three of our heads whipped in his direction. He smiled uncertainly before resting his eyes on me.
He kissed his aunt on the cheek and wished her a Merry Christmas. He did the same to my mother and I froze as he walked over to me. The thought of his lips anywhere on my skin was enough to send me into an emotional frenzy.
“Merry Christmas, Quinn.”
His lips grazed against my cheek and I felt ever bristle of his five o’clock shadow on my skin. His lips lingered longer than his other greetings, but I didn’t care. It was as if we were the only two people in the room. As quickly as his lips touched me, they were gone. It was a tease. It wasn’t enough. I could never have enough of him.
As I resumed my place at the table, my mother was openly gaping at me. I guessed playing it coy about Mason had just turned into an epic fail.
Stella coughed. “You’re just in time for breakfast.” She handed him a cinnamon roll and they joined us at the kitchen table. “This is new to us. Usually Mason and I have dinner in town on Christmas. I haven’t even put up a tree since Mason was a boy.”
“Well, I had to settle with an artificial tree and some Wal-Mart decorations, but I think it came out nice,” I told my mom. “And she suggested take-out for dinner tonight!” I shook my head and noticed my mother was eying me warily. I guessed she expected to find me chained up in the basement. In all honesty, things could be worse. Stella was a strict instructor, but she admitted to me one day that her fervor for me to learn everything as rapidly as possible came from a fear she was living on borrowed time.
I clapped my hands together. “Is it present time yet?” I squealed. I loved Christmas. In fact, one of my favorite parts was picking out the gifts. Even with little money, I always found a way to stretch my budget and pick out a great gift for my mom.
Everyone gave me a tolerant smile. I wasn’t naïve—I did realize this was probably the Christmas from hell. However, I was attempting to make the most of an awkward situation. Stella and my mother were openly glaring at another and since Mason walked in the door, a weird sexual tension seemed to permeate the air between us.
“Let me finish my coffee and just have a word with Stella.” My mother’s smile held no warmth and her eyes were hard. This was probably not a conversation I would want to stick around for. I nodded and Mason followed me into the living room.
I had not looked forward to giving Mason his gift in front of anyone, so I dove to retrieve it from under the tree. I rationalized it was best to give it to him while Stella and my mom were preoccupied with antagonizing one another.
“Here you go,” I said abruptly and practically hurled the wrapped package at him. It was heavy and he made an oomph sound as it landed on his lap.
I was irrationally nervous about giving Mason a gift. After months of keeping my distance, I didn’t want to send the wrong message. However, he had been a friend to me during the whole Tanner debacle. It killed me that a single night of kissing would force us to treat one another as mere acquaintances.
“You got me a gift?” He looked disbelievingly at the tag with his name. His expression was unreadable and I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not.
I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. As he tore through the paper, I explained, “To be honest, I don’t know that much about you besides the fact that you’re a womanizer and a Lord of the Rings fan. Since I wasn’t going to buy you a little black book or the Narsil Sword, I settled on this.”
He looked over the black and white marble chess set. “I don’t know if you play, but I’m pretty good at it. I mean you can just set it up for display or we could have a match sometime…” I trailed off. His silence was making me crazy. “It’s lame, I can return it.”
I went to go reach for it, but he pulled it out of my reach. “It’s amazing, Quinn. You didn’t need to get me anything. Thank you.”
The quiet between us was loaded. He cleared his throat. “I have something for you too.” I raised an eyebrow in his direction. Mason continued, “It’s at my house. I didn’t think it was a good idea to give you a present in front of my aunt.”
We both turned towards the kitchen as the voices of Stella and my mother carried to the living room. They were almost in a full-fledged screaming match. The day had suddenly turned into a bad movie about a dysfunctional family at the holidays.
“Hey, don’t worry about them,” he said gently and reached out a hand
to me. “Let’s sneak out why they’re at each other’s throats and I’ll give it to you now.”
I frowned, but grasped his hand. He pulled me into a standing position and then led me through the front door. I waited for him to let go of my hand, but he didn’t. His grip was firm and our hands melded together perfectly. I tried to repeat my newly created mantra in my head, don’t swoon over this boy, don’t swoon over this boy.
I gave him a sideways look. “Did you really get me something? Or do you just feel bad because I got you a gift and now feel obligated to rummage through your house to find something?”
Mason laughed, “You say you don’t know me, but you seem to have such a low opinion of me.”
“I don’t,” I said softly.
“I hope you didn’t feel like you had to avoid me after what happened that night at the Marksmith.”
“I thought it would be best for both of us if I kept my distance,” I confessed.
He looked like he was about to say something else, but changed his mind. We arrived at his cottage and he tugged me inside. My hand instantly felt cold when he dropped it and disappeared into his bedroom. A second later, he reappeared holding a small wrapped box.
“Thank you,” I said. As I ripped off the wrapping paper, I became giddy with anticipation after realizing I held a jewelry box. Once I opened it, a pleased smile spread over my face. It was a beautiful y-shaped necklace with a diamond adornment and two hanging crystals. My hands stroke the delicate gems and I was enamored with the idea that he saw this necklace and thought of me. Removing the chain from the box, I said to him, “I love it.”
“It’s not enchanted, it won’t bring you love or money. But I got it because I thought it would look nice on you.”
My tongue felt heavy as I asked, “Can you help me put it on?”
Mason invaded both my space and senses. Tenderly, he pushed back my hair and fastened the clasp behind my neck. I waited for him to move once the necklace fell to my chest. But he didn’t. He moistened his lips. “I know we talked about the reasons while it was a bad idea for something to happen between us.” He was talking so softly I had to strain to hear him. “But the more time passes, the more I forget why I’m not supposed to kiss you.”
My breath hitched. His proximity was doing things to my body that were beyond my control. My stomach was in knots when I forced out, “We’re too different. Besides the fact our relatives wouldn’t approve and we live together, there’s our existential differences. I’m…” I inwardly cringed as I revealed, “inexperienced. And you…aren’t.”
His fingertips touched my chin and lifted it slightly to meet his eyes. “I may be experienced, but I can honestly tell you that kissing you was the sexiest thing I’ve ever done.” He leaned in and his warm breath tickled my earlobes. “I can’t get the taste of your lips out of my head.”
The physical pull was too much. I had to fight kissing him with every fiber of being. My heart was telling me to let go and get lost in Mason’s arms. Yet, my head warned of the disaster that could result from getting involved. I was vulnerable and damaged. Trusting a guy like Mason to not break my heart was unthinkable.
I stepped out of his embrace. “We should go back. They’ll be wondering where we disappeared to.”
He smirked. “So, you won’t kiss me again? You do realize that you ruined all other girls for me? How can I ever kiss anyone else after that?”
I giggled. “If you kiss enough girls, I’m sure you’ll come across a replacement for me.”
“But there’s no one else I want to kiss, Quinn. Only you,” he said.
Wow, I thought, he was good. I was about to say hell with my resolve to stay away from him when I heard my mother’s voice calling my name outside. I looked past Mason. “I have to go.”
He gave a reluctant nod and I sprinted out of the cottage. How was I going to be able to avoid the temptation of Mason for another six months? A mere few minutes alone and my body was overheated and desire coiled in my belly. I had to remember that Mason didn’t want a relationship and I wasn’t the type to have a fling. It would be better to keep him at arm’s length while I focused on unraveling the mysteries of my past.
***
A permanent scowl was etched on my mother’s face for the rest of the day. She was irked by my gift to Stella—a software program I would use to help us organize her spells and ingredients and a gardening tool set. My mother had dropped the bracelet I had charmed with good luck like it was inclined to bite her.
I wasn’t the only one who was the target of her vitriol. During dinner, she treated Mason and Stella with blatant condescension. Mason had tried to make an effort to ask her a few polite questions, but she had only curt responses in return. I remained quiet and kept my eyes fixated on my dinner.
After dinner, I loaded her packages and luggage in the car. Her mouth was set in a firm line, as she looked me over. “I can’t understand you, Quinn.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re consorting with the enemy. I didn’t expect to come here and see you acting like you’re one of the family,” she explained.
“I’m trying to make the best out of an impossible situation,” I argued. Since it was Christmas, I avoided saying what was really only my mind. She put me in this situation.
“You’re buying them gifts and practicing magic when it’s not even necessary. I only wanted you to use magic when Stella forced you as part of this deal. There’s a reason so many of the families, including ours no longer use magic. It’s dangerous and wrong. I was taught that we should never change destiny. Life has been preordained and it’s unnatural to play god in people’s lives,” she said earnestly.
“The spells aren’t hurting anyone…” I started.
My mother shook her head and interjected, “The hell they aren’t, Quinn. A sacrifice must be made each time a spell is cast. And what about the curses and revenge spells?”
“I haven’t done any,” I refuted. Stella was particular about what clients I met with. I had guessed she was shielding me from the ones who were making unsavory requests. I did have morals—I wouldn’t cast a spell to purposely hurt someone.
“What about disappearing into that boy’s cottage? He’s bad news, Quinn. Men like that prey on girls like you.”
“Stop treating me like I’m a child. You can’t just come here and pass judgments on people you barely know,” I insisted.
My mother sighed. “Just be cautious. In six months, walk out of here and don’t ever look back.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Dammit!” I slammed down another spell book. I had found the original spell Stella had done on me, but had yet to find something to counteract the effects. Each day that passed, the more anxious I became over getting my memory back. I hated the control my mother and Stella had over me. They had no right to hold my memories hostage for ten years. I wanted to know what happened to me and I wished to remember my father again.
I looked out of the window and saw a few flurries of snow falling to the ground. A snowstorm with possibly a foot of snow would be arriving any minute. Stella had gone to visit a sick friend in town and I hoped Mason picked her up before the storm. She was a terrible driver and relied on Mason to chauffeur her around in the sedan. I rose up from my chair, but stopped short when I noticed the spell that the book had opened to when I slammed it down. It was a spell to communicate with a spirit.
My chest ached. My father. Even though he’d been dead and buried for years, there was a way to reach him. I wouldn’t need to recover my memories if I was able to talk to him. He could tell me the truth about what was so horrible that my mother felt the need to sign a year of my life over to a witch.
With frenzied movements, I began to gather up all of the items required for the spell. I had a gut feeling Stella would disapprove of the spell, which meant I had to perform it somewhere she wouldn’t find me.
The woods. My insides twisted at the idea of heading to the one place I most feared.
My need to see my father outweighed my hesitation. I had a chance to have a real memory of him and not only know him from photographs.
I grabbed my messenger bag and stashed everything I needed inside of it. I also pulled on my parka and hat. I didn’t want to freeze to death while summoning the dead.
The walk into the woods was eerily quiet. The frigid weather had chased all of the living things into hibernation. The only noise was the occasional crow that cawed overhead. I was pleased when the snow tapered off. If the storm were slow moving, I would maybe have more time until Stella returned home.
My hands began to tremble with fear. My nightmares had been flush with the horrors that could happen to a girl alone with the woods and I didn’t want to tempt fate. “Don’t think about it,” I whispered to myself.
I didn’t travel deeply into the woods. I had no desire to get lost during a snowstorm and the tree line afforded enough privacy. In a small clearing, I set out a black blanket and the three candles required for the spell. I set the candles a good distance from the trees.
My hands were shaking with anticipation. I set out a gold plated bowl in the middle of the three candles. The candles were bone white and were intended to attract those from the spirit world. I lit the candles and kneeled before the bowl. I removed a picture of my father from my pocket. I moistened the paper with manuka oil and concentrated on thoughts of my dad. I concocted fabricated memories in my head. My father lifting me into his arms. Pushing me on a swing. Reading me a story until I fell asleep.
I set the picture aflame with one of the spirit invoking candles. “Come forth Ronald Jacobs to me. I command thee.”
Nothing happened. The ashes scattered into the bowl. I called again. “Come forth Ronald Jacobs to me. I command thee.”
The wind picked up. The new fallen snow stirred at my feet. I watched my breath escape my mouth in billowing puffs. Still nothing. No sign of my father.
The Memory Witch Page 13