by Bella Falls
I whistled long and low. “Hollis really is throwin’ around his authority.”
“You can say that again,” muttered the sheriff. He tipped his hat to me. “Please, for your own good, stay out of things and let us wardens handle the case.” He walked through the field to the road where he’d parked his car. I listened for him to drive down the road, too many questions crowding my brain.
What exactly was going on in Honeysuckle? Between Duke’s death, the Hawthorne’s involvement, and the outside threat, the storm clouds of trouble were brewing overhead. If the wardens were the only ones who could bring an end to it all, then they needed to do it fast.
In such a short amount of time, my entire world went from bright beautiful colors to dull drab grace. The only thing that got me out of the house was teaching my young students. I pedaled through the back roads to the school, avoiding Main Street at all costs.
For an hour and a half over two afternoons, I forgot about everything else except making sure the kids were prepared to take their spell permit test. Watching their confidence grow in their magic acted as a balm to my emotional wounds. I helped them, and in turn, they helped me to press pause on my problems for a short period of time.
With so many distractions floating around in my head, I feared I didn't give the students my best. Despite my efforts to forget about the case, I couldn't help but think about Tucker and his confession, or whether or not he really did have more to do with Duke’s death.
On the date of the last class, I passed out a practice written test that I knew all of them would ace. While they filled in bubbles with their pencils, I walked around the desks, monitoring them and letting my mind wander into dangerous territory.
What had happened with Tucker in the long run? What was Hollis doing, using his authority to protect his son? Did Mason hear what I said about Tucker and the object he think he held or did he ignore me because he was mad?
Obsessing over the case I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about turned me into a bad teacher.
Anna caught my attention. “We’re all finished. Can we check our answers?”
I managed to pull myself together and help them figure out what questions were most commonly missed and how to choose the best answer when they were completely uncertain.
We spent the rest of the time practicing the basic spells they'd have to perform. I paired them up and had one student play the assessor and the other perform the spells. That way, they could learn by seeing both sides and help each other out with better details. For a job that was supposed to be temporary, I could picture myself working with students again sometime in the near future.
Before I dismissed them, Helen raised her hand. “Miss Charli, do you have any last words of advice?”
Pushing out all thoughts about Mason and the case, I tried to recall any valuable piece of advice that Nana had given to Matt and me all of our lives. “I think it's important to remember that magic isn't something to be afraid of. It's a part of you and something you have to learn to master. But you can't control something when you're scared of it. Try to remember some of the techniques we've gone through in this course to help you relax when you're taking your test.”
The students thanked me and began to pack up. One more piece of Nana's advice popped in my head. “Oh, and don't worry about making mistakes. Casting a spell isn't always about perfection. Think of it like you’re cooking. Maybe you're following a recipe and you don't have all the ingredients. Or maybe some of you have watched your own grandmothers at the stove. I’m bettin’ they could improvise and change things as they needed to but the end result would still be delicious.”
April spoke up with her quiet voice. “My grandma cooks with Grandpa, and they never use recipes. I love their chicken and dumplin’s when they make it just for me.”
I beamed at the shy girl. “My Nana makes me the creamiest mac and cheese to cheer me up. But she’s practiced over the years to not need a recipe. Remember, even if you make a mistake, there's always room for you to improve or pull a spell out in the end. If you can't, then you can learn something from the experience and try again.”
Hearing my grandmother's words coming out of my mouth to a younger generation felt weird and at the same time kind of wonderful.
Some of the girls hugged me as they left the class, and I received a couple of fist bumps from the guys. Eric promised not to hex me by accident. I listened to the teenagers talking and joking on the way down the halls of the school, their enthusiasm bouncing off the walls.
Walking outside with happiness in my heart, I didn’t mind the afternoon heat and humidity. I wandered over to where my bike waited for me underneath the magnolia tree. Mason leaned against the low branches, waiting for me. Too many restless emotions surface, and I ignored his presence, picking up my bicycle and walking it away from him with the clicks of the gears.
“Charli, we need to talk,” he called after me.
“I don't think that's a good idea. At least, not right now.” I placed my bag in the basket on the front of the bike and straddled it.
His deep voice reverberated through me. “If you ride away from me, I'll come after you. I made a mistake and I want to talk to you about it.”
One foot rested on the pedal and the other steadied me on the ground. “I think it's best if we don't see each other,” I said, protecting my heart.
Mason approached with his hands held up in surrender. “I can understand why you feel that way. But if you'll give me a chance to explain some things, and then if you want me to leave you alone, I will. But please, allow me a chance.”
Not more than mere minutes ago, I’d told the students that mistakes were okay and could be used to learn something. Maybe I needed to figure out that Mason I would never work on any level. But the man deserved at least some last words before I closed the proverbial door on him.
“Fine. Do you want to talk here?” Sweat beaded on my top lip.
“I was hoping I could go back to your place with you.” He watched me with great care, his detective’s eyes discerning every tick of my facial muscles.
I acquiesced and nodded, not saying another word. He told me he'd meet me in a few minutes, but I took a very long way home. Allowing the bicycle to access my magic, I rode as fast as I could, letting the wind blow my troubles away and losing myself in the blurs that passed by.
Chapter Nineteen
While riding around delaying my return home, a call from above and a small shadow followed beside me on the pavement. Biddy cawed out to me, soaring high and keeping me company. When I turned the bike in the direction of my house, she circled in the air, letting me know she intended to come over for a visit. Her presence might be more welcome than Mason's.
Cautious and curious at the same time, I walked my bike from the road over my yard and parked it at the side of my house.
Mason rocked in one of the chairs on my porch. “I was starting to think you'd changed your mind.”
“I very nearly did.” I watched Biddy float down from the sky, flapping her wings and settling on the porch railing. “I’ll be right back,” I said to her more than the detective.
Going inside, I fetched a cheese biscuit from yesterday's big breakfast and poured out one single glass of sweet tea for myself. I couldn’t make it out of the kitchen, grumbling to myself because my manners wouldn't allow me to return outside without an offering for my guest, no matter how annoying he was or how much he'd hurt me. Choosing a much smaller glass, I poured some tea in it. There. He couldn't claim I wasn't a good hostess.
Seeing his face again tempted me to dump the iced tea over his head, but I restrained myself and handed it to him instead. He thanked me, and I sat in my rocker, tossing pieces of biscuit on the porch for Biddy to gobble. The silence stretched between us, and yet it didn't feel awkward. In some ways, even being mad at him, I didn't mind having him close. And that realization bothered me more.
“What has you all riled up?” he asked.
“I�
�m waiting for you to say your piece and leave.” The sharpness of my tone cut me as well as him.
The ice in his glass tinkled when he finished the small amount of his drink. “Then I should get on with it. I'm really sorry.”
“For what?” He needed to be specific or I planned to withhold any and all forgiveness.
“For expecting too much from you too soon,” he said.
Stunned, I met his gaze. “I don't understand.”
Mason watched the crow pecking for crumbs. “When I came back from up North, I had plans. One of them was to tell you about my former life and how I'd finally let go of my past because I wanted my future to be free of any hindrances.”
He needed to tell me something I didn’t already know. “And I told you that I appreciated your candor.”
“But I think I placed too much pressure on you to do the exact same thing. I wish I could say that seeing you with Tucker the other morning at his house didn’t stir up more emotions than I was willing to admit.” The wood of his chair creaked with the gentle movement. “Even though I wanted us on the same page, it wasn't fair to expect you to be free of your past, too.”
I stopped rocking. “I told you that Tucker and I are over. I was only helping him because I still care for him as a person. As a friend and someone about to marry my kin.”
“I know.” Mason shrugged. “Sometimes you can’t help what goes on in here.” He tapped the space over his heart. “And sometimes it doesn't agree with this.” He tapped the side of his head.
Despite my annoyance, I smiled at his gestures. “That's kinda how it's been for me for the past couple of days.”
The space between his eyebrows wrinkled with worry. “When Tucker asked to speak with you and you alone, I guess I got a little territorial. I don't like it when you put yourself in a position where you shouldn’t be. Where you could get hurt. It happens way too often, and I wish it didn’t.”
I slumped back into the chair. If a relationship of any kind that I was a part of was going to survive, I needed someone who stood next to me rather than held me back, even for my own protection. I thought for a brief moment that someone might possibly be the detective. And, if I were honest with myself, not too long ago I had hoped it might be the shifter. Now, I wondered if any male could live up to my expectations?
I kept my eyes on the sun dappling through the woods at the far end of the property. “You say you wanted there to be no walls or barriers between us. Then I have to tell you, I am who I am. I'm not the kind of girl who shies away from danger. I've been this way since I was little, and you're either going to have to adjust and support me or you can watch me from afar. I'm a grown woman less likely to change. If you can't handle that, then we should shake hands and part ways.” I gripped the arms of the rocker to keep my hands from trembling.
“That's actually one of the reasons I wanted to come back to your place. Hold on a second.” Mason pushed out of the rocker and disappeared around the corner of my house. I heard the rustling of some bushes and he returned, holding two brooms. “I know who you are, but I also can't change who I am. I will always worry about you and will always want you not to get hurt. But that doesn't mean I want to hold you back either.”
I eyed him with suspicion. “So you want to do what? Sweep with me?”
“No, I want to fly with you. I stopped by Lee’s shop and borrowed these. He's spellcast them, so I thought maybe you and I could ride together.” Mason shook the one in his left hand at me.
Biddy squawked a couple of times and groomed her wings to show off. The crow was built to fly. My feet were meant to stay on the ground.
“I don't think it’s a good idea.” The hurt in his eyes caused me to backtrack. “I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't think I can sit on top of a thin strip of wood and then expect my body to hurl itself through the air. You said you didn't want to see me hurt, but I'm pretty sure I'd end up at the doc’s if I ride that.”
Mason relaxed and chuckled. “I don't expect you to go whizzing through the sky. Not on your first try.” His eyes twinkled with a little too much amusement.
Biddy hopped over to the edge of the porch and cocked her head, examining the two sticks with brush ends.
“Yeah, I have doubts they can fly, too, old girl,” I said to the crow.
“They can,” assured Mason. “Lee is one of the best mechanic spellcasters I've ever known. Some of us boys might have been testing them out since he came back. He has visions of grandeur that your group of friends will form a broom riding gang.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And none of you fools have broken bones?”
He shot me a sideways glance. “I'll have you know, I was one of the top broom racers for my class at the wardens academy.”
“You didn't just ride, you raced?” I tried to picture him younger and reckless enough to fly one of those cleaning tools as fast as the wind. On purpose. “No, thank you.”
He held out the shorter of the two handles. “This one has been spelled as the trainer. It hovers closer to the ground and goes about as fast as a pony ride. Think of it as magical training wheels.”
Taking the broom from him, I inspected every inch of it. “Doesn't look very safe. Plus, I don't think shoving a thin wooden handle like that between my legs will be especially comfy.”
Mason rolled his eyes. “They work on magic. That means it'll support your weight without being uncomfortable. Come on, Charli, don't you trust—”
“Don't ask that question right now,” I warned, finding myself stuck between a rock and hard place.
In no way did I want him to see me not even try, no matter how certain I was that a fall was inevitable. Call it pride or the stubbornness of being a Goodwin woman, I couldn't not try. And I really did want to trust him, but didn't know if my heart could take another mistake.
Dubious, I agreed. “Fine. But you've got to be patient with me. Bicycles or motorcycles—I prefer the things I ride to be planted on solid ground.”
“I know.” He glanced away for a brief second, a slight frown forming at the corners of his mouth. He shook off whatever bugged him and gestured for me to join him in the front yard.
I copied how he managed his broom, holding it out horizontally in front of me. “What do I need to do?”
“This first part’s easy. You straddle the handle like you would your bike.” He showed me with a little too much condescension.
“Okay, maybe you don't have to be that slow with the instructions.” Placing the shorter handle between my legs, I waited for the next bit.
Mason struggled not to smirk. “Now you connect your magic to the broom. Hold the handle with one or both hands and stretch your will of magic to it.”
Unwilling to mess things up, I concentrated and added a quick rhyme. “This broom in my hand, my magic should fly, but please oh please, don't let me die.” A little spark of my energy connected to the implement of cleaning. The broom jerked a tiny bit underneath me.
“Looks like you're ready. The next part is going to take your absolute faith that I won't let you fall.” He made sure I was watching him, and then performed a small hop. He lifted in the air, hovering with his feet dangling an inch off the ground.
How did he expect me to have faith in nothing but a sliver of wood and a little magic to keep me from falling? I lifted one foot but couldn't make myself push off with the other. My body struggled to stay on the broom. “See, it's not gonna work.”
“You're not trying. Give it a little hop.” He placed his feet down again and showed me how easy it was for him.
No matter how much my head understood, I couldn't get past my doubts. Biddy fluttered over from the porch, standing in front of me and hopping up and down. She opened her wings each time.
“Even your bird knows what it takes.” Mason touched down and got off his broom. He offered his hand to me. “I'll hold onto you if it will help.”
I was about two seconds and one more try away from giving up the broom for good. Ta
king a chance, I held onto him fast. Closing my eyes, I counted down. “Three, two, one, hop!”
“Open your eyes, Charli,” commanded Mason.
Obeying, I snuck a peek through one eye. The world bobbed up and down a little bit, and my feet dangled a short distance from the earth. “I did it!”
Mason snorted. “You got in the air. That's step one. Now you have to master moving.”
At the thought of being in motion, I lost my concentration and wobbled off balance. Placing my feet back down, I frowned. “Maybe sitting in the air is good enough?” I noticed that he still held my hand in his.
He moved his hand to my shoulder. “You can stop now. Or…you can learn to soar.” Taking a step away, he allowed me to hover in the air on my own.
At first, I gripped the handle tight and my knuckles whitened. When I didn’t automatically fall off, I relaxed a tiny fraction. “So how do I move?”
Mason smiled. “Let me see if I can put this in terms you would understand. Right now, you’re kind of sitting in neutral. Your magic is your gas. Your intent is your gear shift and your will is your throttle and your brakes.”
Putting it in terms of riding a motorcycle did help. “So if I focus my intent to go forward and then will it to be so…” I tried it once and the broom lurched forward, surprising me. Losing my concentration, I dropped to the ground on my feet.
“Oops.” Mason reached out to help me, but I waved him off.
“I just stalled it a little. Let me try again.” Sticking my tongue out of my mouth, I got myself in the air again with a hop and, after a deep breath, moved the broom forward at the pace of a snail. “I’m doing it,” I exclaimed.
The detective walked beside me as I teetered a bit but didn’t lose my forward momentum. “If you want to turn, you lean a little in the direction you desire. Not too far.”
After five minutes, I managed a sluggish circle in front of my house with Mason at my elbow the entire way. Sweat poured down my face, but I didn’t care.