by Shannon Page
By the time she finished fussing over me, convincing me to at least take a glass of lemonade and another couple meatballs, something was happening in the kitchen that needed her attention, and our conversation was over. And then the party itself was over not long after that, as first the few Elders in attendance and then some of the younger set began gathering their coats and wraps and kissing my mother goodbye, thanking her for a lovely afternoon.
I briefly considered sticking around to see if I could try again, but I started feeling as tired as everyone had been insisting I was, so I took Elnor and went home.
— CHAPTER THREE —
Jeremy clearly thought his message to me the next day would come as a surprise, but since his dad had already spilled the beans, I said, When did you get back?
There was a pause. Er, this morning, actually. I had been trying to return in time for your parents’ gathering, but there were occlusions on more ley lines than usual, and the journey took quite a while.
I stretched my feet out, arranging them more comfortably on the ottoman, and set my teacup on the side table. After a productive (though inconclusive) morning in my lab upstairs, I’d been enjoying a peaceful afternoon alone in my house. Well, for the value of alone that includes a cat in one’s lap, a golem cleaning up dishes in the kitchen, and a baby in one’s belly. I’m sorry to hear your travel was such a trial.
His pause was longer this time. The trouble with ætheric communication is how hard it is to send tone, expression, and emotion along with the words. I hadn’t been trying to be snippy or passive-aggressive, but it was entirely possible he was interpreting it that way. I am happy to be back, he eventually offered.
I imagine you must be, I said, then quickly added, I’m happy you’re back too.
May I come visit you—at your convenience, of course?
I smiled at his carefulness. Yes, whenever you’re rested up, just let me know.
I’m rested now.
“Eager, is he?” I said aloud to Elnor. “Interesting.” Then by all means, come on over.
I’ll be right there.
I swallowed the last of my tea and eased Elnor off my lap before getting to my feet. It seemed like every day, my balance shifted as the baby grew. And there was no getting used to it—just constant change.
My cat followed me back to the kitchen, where I put the kettle on for more tea. Jeremy, of course, would want something stronger, even though it wasn’t technically cocktail hour yet. Who knew what time zone his body was in, anyway? I didn’t even know how long his trip had been. Well, he could drink all the brandy he wanted, it wouldn’t bother me. I was going to have tea. I could have more mint, that would be good…
I stopped in the middle of the floor and laughed at myself. “Overthinking it much, witch?” Yes, I could admit it. I was nervous to see Jeremy again.
Fortunately, I didn’t have long to wait. He let his presence be known through the æther a few seconds before he knocked on the front door.
Petrana started down the hallway to answer it. “That’s all right,” I told her. “I’ll get it.”
“Yes, Mistress Callie.” She paused as if a thought had just occurred to her. “Did you want me to stay out of sight, then?”
“No need, Jeremy knows what you are.” Could she not sense who was on the other side of the door? Her magical abilities were still something of a mystery to me, though I had been trying to nail down just what she could and could not do.
That might have been easier if she would just stop developing new abilities.
I didn’t have time to laugh at myself again before I opened the door.
Jeremy, I had to admit, still looked pretty good. He might have been jetlagged (as it were—leylagged?) and exhausted from his travel, plus whatever he’d been up to in the Old Country. But his green eyes were as luminous as ever, and his long, sleek dark hair hung neatly down his back, tied today in a casual ponytail. He even smelled good.
He always smelled good to me.
No matter how inconvenient that might be. Because I really had no idea if I wanted him back in my life or not…or in my bed…though we had to pretend to be a couple…and here I was overthinking it again.
I shook my thoughts away once more and pulled the door wide. “Greetings, Jeremiah Andromedus, and welcome to my home. Please come in.”
He nodded and gave me a relieved smile. Technically, just the act of opening the door to him was invitation enough, but I knew he really did prefer the old-fashioned formalities.
You can take the warlock out of the Old Country…
“Thank you, Calendula Isadora.” He stepped over the threshold and paused as I shut the door. When I turned back to him, his eyes widened as he took in my enhanced figure. “Oh, my. Have I been gone so long?”
I couldn’t help it, I snorted with laughter. “And here I thought you were a diplomat.”
A horrified look crossed his face. “Callie! I didn’t—”
Still laughing, I put a hand on his arm. “Stop. You’re fine. It’s all fine. Yes, you’ve been gone quite a while, and babies do grow.”
“You look magnificent,” he said, clearly trying to recover himself.
“Thank you, and you don’t have to say that, truly.” Somehow, his discomfort put me entirely at ease. “Come on, sit down.”
“Thank you.” He followed me into the front parlor.
Down the long hall to the kitchen at the back of my Victorian house, the tea kettle whistled. “Petrana,” I called to her, “please bring me a cup of mint tea.” Then I turned to Jeremy. “Sit anywhere you like. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Not right now, thank you,” he said, sitting in the over-stuffed chair. “Are you feeling well? I did mean it, that you look wonderful.”
I settled on the couch. “Well, thank you. Yes, I’m feeling very good.”
“I am glad.”
“We named her recently.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We?”
I felt my face flush. He did think this was his daughter. But didn’t he know the customs around such things? Or were they different in the Old Country where he’d been raised? Did he think he should have had a say in the matter? “Yes, my coven. We held the midnight ritual and discovered her name: Rosemary Leonora.”
“That is lovely.” He nodded, but he still looked confused, and at a bit of a loss.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” I blurted. “I have Bulgarian frog brandy.”
He flashed me his bright smile again, relaxing slightly. “Perhaps later. It’s just…” He shook his head.
“What?”
Before he could answer, Petrana walked in with a full cup of tea. Jeremy watched her openly. “Where would you like it, Mistress Callie?” she asked. “On the coffee table?”
“No, just here, thank you.” I took the cup from her.
She gave a tiny nod and then waited, politely but expectantly.
“That’s all for now, Petrana,” I added.
“Yes, Mistress Callie.” She nodded again and left the room.
“Astonishing,” Jeremy said. “She’s—what have you done with her? She’s nothing like the clumsy, lumbering golem she once was.”
It was hard to not gloat. But, dang it, I was proud of myself. “I had to rebuild her for, ah, reasons. I worked on the shape a bit, and I figured out how to get her to tap into my own magic more smoothly, but mostly, it’s just been practice. She’s been working really hard.”
He shook his head, looking impressed. “Wow. I’ll want to hear more about all that.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you.”
I smiled at him, only then realizing he’d called Petrana “her” and not “it,” like most everyone else in the witchkind world did. Giving her some personhood.
Interesting. Was he trying to butter me up, or did he really think Petrana was more than just an animated thing?
He glanced away a moment, looking suddenly uncomfortable once more, before turning ba
ck to me with a determined look on his face. “But before we get too far afield, I do want to…Callie, we are long overdue for a talk.”
I blinked at him. “Well, you’ve been a little hard to get hold of recently.”
“The fault is entirely mine!” he blurted. Then he swallowed, calming himself again. “I’ve been away for so long, far longer than I had imagined being, and for that I am truly sorry. I had no intention of letting things get to this point without…honest words between us.”
“What did keep you over there so long?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I will share all that with you, but I believe we should speak of us first.”
“All right.” I reached down and scritched Elnor, who was lurking by my feet. The golden ring glinted in the late afternoon sunlight peeking through the front window. I could see Jeremy notice it; a struggle passed across his face.
How much did he know about what had transpired while he was gone? Probably not much, but I was tired of playing guessing games. I would lay as many cards on the table as I was permitted to. “Your father gave me this,” I told him, holding my hand out so he could see.
“Hmm, that’s interesting.” Jeremy frowned, and didn’t reach out to take my hand or look more closely. “What…did he say about it?”
“That it’s an old family heirloom. That he had hoped you would give it to me.” I watched his face.
“Oh.” Now he looked very, very sad.
“It’s strange, though,” I went on, keeping my tone neutral, “it clearly holds a lot of power, power that I can wield, yet that can also be wielded against me. It seems to be something of a leash.” I laughed without humor. “Because you see, I cannot take it off.” I tugged at it gently, to demonstrate.
He shook his head. “I am so sorry, Callie.”
“Did you know he was going to do this? Had you planned to do this?”
His eyes widened. “No, you must believe me—I had no idea, and no intention myself—when I proposed a contract between us—well, you turned me down before I had even had a chance to think about jewelry.”
I snorted softly. “This isn’t jewelry.”
“I would never leash you, Callie. You have to know that.” He was leaning forward now, his emerald eyes seeking mine. “This is part of why we need to talk. I still think we could be good together, despite…well…” He trailed off, looking as helpless as a diplomat could.
I sighed. “Oh, Jeremy. It’s not that I can’t imagine a future with you, or wearing a ring that you chose and gave me. I could see being very happy with you—someday. But this, this feels too much like being railroaded into something—the whole thing, all the way through. And this ring,” I waved my hand in the air, “stuck to my finger. I’m sorry, but this is just obnoxious. You know?”
He gave an answering sigh. “Callie, believe me, I know all too well. For my entire life, my father has either been nowhere in evidence or he has been managing every detail for me.” He shook his head and gazed at the side table next to his chair. I could almost see him wishing he had agreed to that brandy after all. He turned his green eyes back to me. “Encouraging my relationship with you was only the latest of his campaigns to run my life. As I told you before, it was a happy bonus that I happened to like you very much of my own accord. In fact, I had hoped that this might represent a turning point, of sorts; that if you and I signed a contract, I would have someone else I was legally bound to.” His brave smile was painful to see. “Perhaps the two of us could stand up to him, I thought. Silly of me, I know.”
“Oh, Jeremy.” If he had been sitting closer, I almost would have wanted to reach out and take his hand, he looked that vulnerable. I could see the fragile young man he must have once been, desperate to measure up to his powerful father, to be seen as worthy by him. To be respected by him. It broke my heart. Jeremy couldn’t know how duplicitous Gregorio truly was, how…conniving. He clearly did not know it now—he would have never been able to disguise it with me, now or previously—and so I could never, ever tell him. I would have to walk this line carefully. “You must know a different side of Gregorio than I do. It’s that way with every child and every parent. I like your father—I’ve always found him an inspiration. A mentor.” I smiled, even as the words felt like ashes in my mouth. That they had been true once only made their flavor all the more bitter now. “Yes, a little old-fashioned in his thinking sometimes, but he is pretty old.”
“Yes,” Jeremy said, nodding eagerly. So glad that I understood. “He moves through the modern world smoothly enough, but never forget, there are some very dated notions deeply rooted within him, including that parents own their children—until a witch joins a coven or a warlock apprentices in his trade. No one owns themselves until they are hundreds of years old—if they do at all.”
“And a union?” I asked, with a wry smile.
“Yes, in his mind, the warlock leads and the witch follows.” He leaned forward, catching my gaze earnestly. “You must believe me, I in no way share those beliefs.”
“I never got the impression that you did. But thank you for making it clear.”
He gazed at my hand, and the ring, again. “It looks lovely on you. You are, ah, well suited to strong jewelry.”
“Thank you.” I peered back at him, absorbing the odd compliment as I decided not to protest his calling it jewelry again. This man wasn’t an idiot, and our connection had been powerful. Yet the complications between us…“I’d like it better if I could take it off, I have to say.”
“Of course.” He averted his eyes again.
We were silent for a minute, while I sipped my tea. “Are you sure I can’t get you something?”
“How would you feel about dinner?”
I started to protest before realizing that I was, indeed, hungry. And a change of scene might do me some good; I hadn’t been outside at all today. “Sure.”
We went to a little hole-in-the-wall in North Beach so trendy that we had to spell a table into existence. Which made the place even more crowded, but the noisy, cheerful humans gathered around the tiny tables hardly seemed to notice.
“May I?” Jeremy asked, holding both menus. It took me a moment to understand what he was asking.
I stifled a laugh. “Sure, go ahead.”
He did a good job ordering, though I told him he was going to have to eat all the mussels. I’ve never liked bivalves, and now it made my stomach ache to even think of them. Rose might not be communicating to me in any usual witchkind sense, but it seemed pretty clear that she liked them even less than I did.
My only alteration to Jeremy’s choices was when he got to the wine list. “None for me, thank you,” I told the waiter. “I’d love to try one of these shrub drinks instead.”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow but didn’t question me until the waiter left. “Shrub?”
“Sipping vinegar,” I told him, “and soda. It’s all the rage these days. I’ve been meaning to give it a try.”
He still looked confused, and then suddenly his face cleared. “Ah! Oh, Callie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested a human place. Of course it would be awkward to drink alcohol in front of them in your condition.”
I smiled back at him. “It’s really all right. I’ve been wanting to eat here. And don’t worry, I’m being very careful to get exactly the nutrients I need.”
He nodded. The waiter brought our drinks—lemon-lavender shrub for me and a glass of cognac for Jeremy. We’d barely sipped them before he returned with a basket of bread, and then antipasti plates.
“This is nice,” Jeremy said, as we shared both dishes. “Just enjoying a meal together. Thank you for coming out with me.”
“My pleasure,” I said. “In fact, this is the kind of thing I was talking about months ago when I said I wanted to get to know you better before rushing into becoming your consort.”
He gave me a grateful smile. “I’m sorry that…all that got interrupted by circumstances.”
“Me too.”
&nbs
p; We were both quiet a moment. I thought about how quickly things had changed…from the giddy rush of falling into bed with an exciting new lover, to the shock of discovering I was pregnant, to the horrible cautery magic we had performed together, followed immediately by Jeremy leaving the country and being incommunicado for so long.
“I’m glad you don’t hate me,” he said at last, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.
“I absolutely do not hate you,” I assured him.
He leaned back, studying my face for a long moment before taking a sip of cognac. “Tell me about your childhood.”
I blinked, surprised by the sudden conversational turn. “What?”
“I mean it. I didn’t grow up here. I don’t know much about you, and that feels like quite the oversight.”
“Huh.” I took another bite of carpaccio to cover my confusion. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything you like. Everything. Start at the beginning.”
“All right.” I sipped my shrub, thinking. “Well, you know both my parents.”
“Yes, though I am better acquainted with your father than with your mother.”
I nodded. “She’s quite a bit younger than he is. It’s her first union; she was only in her coven a few years before she met and fell in love with my dad.”
“Theirs appears to be a good union.”
“It is. They were good parents. They enjoyed me a lot.” I smiled at the thought of them, the small, quiet ways they showed how much they loved one another, even as the daily rhythms of their lives did not overlap all that much. I pushed aside the odd moments from their luncheon yesterday afternoon and Mom’s strange reluctance to talk about Gregorio. Jeremy had asked about my childhood, after all. “They renewed their contract for another term ten or so years ago. I know they’re very happy together. Though I sometimes wonder about my father’s unions before her,” I admitted. “Or, more generally, I wonder what it’s like to be head-over-heels in love with someone who’s had so much more life than you have. Not just loves, but friends and communities and work and, well, everything.” I smiled at Jeremy. “I know you’re a bit older than me, but basically we’re contemporaries. Dad is like six times Mom’s age.”