When she didn’t respond, he kept on talking. “Mrs. Mullins is due any—”
“And here I am. Hello, Thea!” Rita Mullins bustled up as if summoned from a magic lamp. “Good to see you back in town again. So sorry I’m late. I was down at the Tavern for lunch and you won’t believe what happened this morning.”
“Charlie filled me in,” Jake said as they all went into the store.
“It was the strangest thing. Oh, hello!” Rita said to the customer, who stood at the register holding the wooden serving tray. “Has Jake been able to see to you? That is a lovely piece, isn’t it?” Rita, as usual, went right to work.
“Come on back to my workroom.” Jake guided Thea through the store. “I would invite you up to my place, but it’s even more of a mess. Have a seat.” He pointed to one of the stools and set her bags next to it.
She didn’t sit, but walked right over to his wall of photographs.
“How about the hard cider? Does that sound good?”
He checked the mini fridge in the workroom. Donnie kept it full of beer and hard cider, but Jake mostly stocked it with soft drinks and snacks for when he got too absorbed in his work to stop for a meal. Sure enough, there were still a few bottles of cider buried in there. He snagged one and looked for the stack of plastic party cups, but they’d fallen off and were covered in sawdust on the floor. Straight out of the bottle then.
“We never did do that duet,” Thea said, tracing her finger down the frame of one of the pictures.
Jake opened the bottle of cider and walked over to where she stood, staring at a photo of Becca holding the wooden flute he had carved for her. The one with the ugly looking bear perched on top that Becca had tried to bury under glittery hair ties.
“Duet?”
“She was going to play that flute and I was going to play her fiddle, just for fun.” She moved on to study yet another photo of Becca, this time with a huge smile on her face as she played her fiddle. “Did you sue?”
He handed her the cider. She absently took a drink as she stared at the photo. He had to think about her question for a moment, then he understood.
“Oh, about the patch,” he said. “No.”
She turned to at him, her eyes still that dark stormy gray. “Why not? A lot of people died from those. There was shoddy manufacturing.”
“Mom didn’t want Becca’s addiction discussed by strangers.”
“The addiction didn’t kill her,” Thea said. “The patch did. It killed a lot of people. Still is. Despite all the lawsuits and recalls.” She sighed. “Ask Nick, he would know. It’s become one of the most dangerous street drugs out there.”
Her voice sounded ragged and tears had welled up in her eyes. He tapped the bottom of the bottle. She obediently took another long gulp then turned away.
“Sorry.” The word was a watery whisper. “I’ve learned enough these last few years to know someone like Becca should never have been prescribed those patches in the first place.”
Jake had met his share of vets. Some bragged about their time overseas, exaggerating or making light of things they’d done. Then there were the others. The quiet ones who would change the subject. They might not have killed anyone or even fired their gun, but their haunted eyes all carried the same four words—the shit I’ve seen.
Jake saw those words in Thea’s eyes now.
But Thea couldn’t have known that Becca had decided if one patch was good, two would be better. Or three. No one knew that except Jake and his dad. Jake stared at the photo. Becca gazed back—forever young and smiling at him over her fiddle. Forever gone. She would always be that Becca for him. Not the one who had died hooked on those damn pain patches. That Becca hadn’t smiled much. Not after the wreck.
“Mom didn’t want to be reminded why Becca was on those patches in the first place.”
Thea took an even longer swig. “She seems to remember quite well,” she said. There was an edge in her voice.
Apparently Thea hadn’t been able to forget that night either. “No. She doesn’t remember what happened at all,” Jake said. “And I am thankful for that.”
Thea finished the bottle off. “This is really good,” she said, checking the label.
“Take care. It kicks like a mule.” Jake warned. “It’s from a new brewery south of Asheville.”
“I wish I didn’t,” she said, looking back at the photo.
“Didn’t what?”
“Remember that night,” she answered. “Can I have another?”
Jake started to protest, then decided he could drive her home if need be.
He grabbed another bottle from the fridge and handed it to her. “I wish I didn’t either.”
“But do you?”
Every damn day, especially the moment I realized I could’ve stopped her. “Yeah.”
“Everything?”
Jake frowned. “Yeah. Why?”
“Your mom said almost exactly the same thing that night,” Thea said. She had wrapped one arm around her middle. “About my family. She hasn’t forgotten that.”
Except that night Marilyn Moser had screamed it loud enough for everyone to hear—“They are full up with evil, those Woodruffs. All of them! I can see it and you can’t!” Then she had charged at Thea and Grace as if she intended to throttle them both. One of the canopies lining the field had flipped over right into her path—stopped her cold.
He would never forget the look on Thea’s face, standing there beyond the collapsed nylon and aluminum with her flute case in her arms, Grace beside her. But it was Becca who had burst into tears, looking embarrassed and horrified.
“No, but she forgot everything else,” Jake said. “For a long time, I thought it was a blessing. Now I’m not so sure.”
What was it Thea had said? “No! You’re the one who needs to go. Go away and don’t ever come back here! And don’t ever say that again. Forget it, all of it, and just go away!”
And Jake’s mom had done exactly that. She had left, dragging Becca with her. He had tried to stop them—grabbed Becca to keep her from getting in the car. But Becca had been afraid to let their mom drive off alone and he had figured his mom would be fine driving. He could have stopped the car. He could have, but he hadn’t.
The accident that night had left Becca in constant pain. His mom had no recollection of what had caused her to drive away in such a state, and still didn’t.
She’d also never gone near the festival again, or even the grounds along the river where it was held every year. When he asked her why, she wouldn’t say. She would simply repeat that she couldn’t go near that place again, like it was cursed. So he knew, somewhere in her mind, she remembered.
Thea was now looking at a photo of herself and her hand rose to her chest. Jake saw that huge smile of hers in the picture and the pendant he had carved for her so long ago dangling around her neck.
“Your mom knew about your crush. It really frightened her that you had feelings for Grace.”
“Feelings for who?” Jake said. Where had that come from? “I never had a crush on Grace. Did Grace say that?” Sure he’d had thoughts about one of the Woodruff girls, but it wasn’t Grace. “I didn’t—”
“Oh yes you did.” She turned, smiling. Clearly Thea didn’t drink that often, if at all. The cider was doing its work. Her eyes looked drowsy and smoky. “I could tell, Hotcake.”
“You were wrong, Matchstick.” That made Thea flinch. “I always admired Grace. The same way I admired your Pops.” It was you that I wanted.
“You loved Pops,” she said with the certainty of the slightly inebriated.
“Yeah. I loved your Pops. And admired him and respected him. He was like family to me.” And that’s why I couldn’t… Looking up at another photo of all of them—Thea, Grace, their Pops and himself—he could acknowledge that bond. “You guys were…are family. Like�
�like cousins.”
Either Thea had moved closer or he had, because she was suddenly only inches away. “So I’m like a cousin?”
Staring at her mouth, bright with lipstick, he couldn’t answer for a moment. All the blood had drained out of his head, but he wasn’t quite sure where it had gone. “I…”
Then her mouth was on his. Those talented lips that he had so often watched play the flute were slanted across his and he suddenly knew precisely where all the blood had gone. Her fingers, always agile and quick on the keys, were moving through his hair.
There was laughter in the voice that came from behind them. “A kissing cousin, from what I can see.”
It took Jake a moment to register that Mel was standing there in the doorway. It took him another moment to realize that he had his arms around Thea and his hands splayed down her back. He wasn’t going to think about where his tongue had been. In a flash he was a few steps away from her, making sure that a workbench strategically blocked everyone’s view of a certain part of his anatomy.
“Sorry.” He said as Thea plucked her bottle of cider from a shelf and finished it off.
“I’m not,” Thea said, smiling. Tossing the empty bottle in the recycle bin, she picked up two sacks and flung the dress bag over her shoulder. “I have wanted to do that for a long time, Cupcake.”
“And here I thought I would find you two in here making music together.” Mel scooped up another of Thea’s bags. “Instead, I find you making something else entirely.”
Jake watched, dumbstruck, as Thea sauntered past with a satisfied smile.
“Just making magic,” she said so only he could hear.
Chapter Six
Thea watched as Daniel, standing on the gazebo with Mel, lifted his glass in the air beneath all the fairy lights he had strung himself. “It makes perfect sense to me that Mel’s father is a magician, because she is made of magic herself. To my wife—ti amo sempre.” He drank the Prosecco and Mel went up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, officially kicking off the reception.
“Now, since we know that Jamie Lynn is over there on the edge of her chair waiting, Mel and I are going to go cut the wedding cake and I declare the dessert buffet open for business!”
Jamie Lynn Campbell, who had been sitting next to Thea at the official family table, took off like a shot. Bailey tried to follow, but reached the end of her leash and plunked down on the grass, tail thumping the ground as she watched her new best friend disappear through the crowd.
Bailey had not only attended the ceremony, but was decked out with a leash festooned with teal ribbons and a sunflower tucked under her harness. It was impossible to believe this was the same dog that she had coaxed out from under a dumpster a few days ago. Pooka, who lay nearby under Grace’s chair, had a teal bow on his collar as well, but it looked ragged, as if the hound had tried all day to scratch it off.
“Oh this has been amazing,” Mel’s mother Trish said. “The entire valley—”
“I think they call it a hollow here,” her husband, Craig, cut in.
Thea had noticed right away that Mel was a petite version of her mother. Trish Noblett had the same chameleon eyes and sun-kissed blond hair, though hers was much longer than Mel’s pixie cut. She grinned at Trish’s expression when Craig leaned over to kiss her nose in apology.
Trish tried again. “The entire hollow looks like a fairyland with all the sparkling lights everywhere. I was afraid it would be so dark up here after the sun went down. But there are so many lights and lanterns—”
“And sunflowers. Very Tuscan,” Craig chimed in. He was very proud of his Italian heritage and Thea had to concede that he did look a lot more like a Carlo Adessi than a Craig Noblett. His stepfather had legally changed not only his last name, but also his first when Craig was only a toddler.
“With the candles and wine and the food and music,” Trish went on. “It’s perfect.”
Thea raised her hands. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“Me neither,” Ouida chimed in next to her. “This is my night off!”
When they looked at Grace, she waved her fingers at the bride and groom’s table up on the gazebo. “Your daughter was the driving force behind all of this. Perhaps she inherited some of your magical ability.”
“Hey, I helped out,” Eddie said as he stood to go check out the desserts. “Gazebos don’t build themselves.”
Craig leaned back in his chair and surveyed the enchanted garden that Mel and her helpers had created. “I bet she did have a lot of help.” He took a long look at his daughter and her new husband as they made their way down the gazebo steps. “But she is still a marvel.”
Thea had to admit the two of them looked sublimely happy. Mel had removed her simple fingertip veil, leaving only the satin headband nested in her hair. Daniel had unpinned his own sunflower and ribbon boutonniere and tucked it behind her ear. Jamie had demanded that Nick, as the best man, do the same for her, so she now sported one that was dangling precariously from her headband.
Mel’s dress was absolute perfection. Simple and classic, with a ruched strapless bodice in ivory silk, the gown was perfect for her petite figure. Her waist was defined by a band of dark teal satin that draped to the floor with her train. Her bouquet, an explosion of sunflowers, delicate ivory blossoms and teal ribbons, was a splash of color against the ivory gathers of the skirt.
The sun had cooperated, as Mel had hoped, providing a cascade of colors in the sky above them during the ceremony. The two had exchanged their vows on the steps of their front porch with the guests gathered on beribboned, flower-festooned chairs in the front yard. Even some of Daniel’s bees, heading home for the night, had come to investigate the ceremony, perhaps to pay their respects.
Thea reminded herself to ask Daniel for a copy of the poem they had read to each other during their vows. She was pretty sure it was Elizabeth Barrett Browning—one of the Sonnets From the Portuguese—but if it was, it wasn’t one of the better-known poems. Someone had commented that it seemed an odd choice, but she had thought it was perfect—something about two souls standing strong together—loving each other despite the surrounding darkness. That was what marriage had to be these days—a fierce light in the dark of this damaged world.
As Trish had pointed out, the lighting was perfect as twilight turned to dusk with Mel’s lanterns and candles and the abundance of fairy lights strung everywhere, even twinkling from inside mason jars. The garden around them provided its own decoration with so many white flowers in bloom.
Thea sighed. It really was perfect. The weather had continued to cooperate, allowing them to forego the tents and use the stars as their canopy. Citronella torches encircled the garden and recorded music provided a quiet undertone to the conversations buzzing around each table.
“The fun part of the evening’s about to begin,” Grace said, looking at the dance floor.
Four decorated posts delineated the corners of a portable wooden floor, lit by crisscrossed strings of lights and lanterns. Thea saw Jake’s group setting up on a smaller stage area off to the side. She looked away before Jake could catch her checking him out.
He had played his hammered dulcimer for the wedding ceremony, lovely soft Celtic tunes with “All in a Garden Green” for the processional. She had been standing with her back to him, but she had felt every note reverberate somewhere inside her. By the end of the ceremony, when the wedding party had almost danced off to his lively rendition of “Haste to the Wedding,” her skin was tingling.
Thea had never seen Jake in a suit before. At Becca’s and Pops’s funerals he had been in his uniform. He looked damn good in a uniform, but he looked pretty terrific in a suit too.
He had even shaved off the permanent scruff that had been his trademark as sheriff. Instead of making him less sexy, it made him more so. His mouth was more noticeable, perhaps. And he had such a nice mouth—
&n
bsp; She stood. “Okay, anyone else going to watch them smear cake on each other?”
“Oh, yes, we need to take pictures!” Trish jumped up and tugged her husband away.
“That’s what the photographer is for!” he protested as she pulled him after her into the crowd.
“I’m staying here to make sure Jamie doesn’t stuff herself with dessert then dance herself into an upset stomach.” Jamie’s mother Beth said.
Nick smirked. “Good luck with that.”
Beth shook her head. “I know. But we have to be on that plane so early tomorrow—”
“Don’t worry, Beth. We’ll make sure she doesn’t get sick,” Grace promised. “I’m not moving until I have to. The father of my child is going to bring me one of those bongo things that Mel has been raving about. Actually, bring the tray.”
Nick got up, grinning. “Yes ma’am. Beth, Ouida, you ladies need anything?”
Beth grimaced. “Ack. I’ll take one of those bongo things too. Jamie won’t shut up about them.”
“I think I’ll go inspect the desserts myself,” Ouida said, rising from her chair. “While there are still some left.”
“Can you watch Bailey for me?” Thea asked. Both Grace and Trish nodded, smiling at the dog who was wagging her tail at everyone who passed, shamelessly mooching—or perhaps looking for a better owner.
Thea was relieved to get up and move about instead of dwelling on Jake Moser’s mouth. If she hadn’t gotten tipsy and kissed him yesterday, she wouldn’t be getting all hot and bothered now about how his scruffy face had rubbed against her lips and how his tongue had—
“I have to tell you that dress looks like it was made for you,” Nick said as he caught up with her. They’d joined a small crowd gathered to watch the cake cutting. “You look great. I think being back on the mountain agrees with you.”
“Thanks.” Thea said, trying not to look at the band.
“Have you thought about staying?”
Making Magic: Books of the Kindling, Book 3 Page 10