A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) (10 page)

“Sometimes.”  Lauren smiled.  “We all feel that way sometimes.  But more often, they’re a kid who can’t handle the world very well, or the situation they’re in.”  She tried to channel Nat’s gentleness.  “It’s possible Beth was just overloaded by sunny skies and grass under her feet and your very wonderful children, and not able to consider what you were offering her.” 

It took a while, but the mama-bear edge to Nell’s mind finally ebbed.  “Shit.”

That about covered it.

“It’s not very often you step wrong, my dear.”  Moira’s brisk voice had them both looking up in surprise.  “But it’s a rare misstep that can’t be fixed.  Surely you can try again tomorrow.”

Lauren hid her grin—so much for letting Nell wallow in self-pity.

“I can’t.”  Nell’s voice was calmer now, but her concern was mounting.  “She’s ready to leave, and much as I’d like to be the person to fix it—” She paused, digging for words.  “We don’t mesh well.  She sees things very differently than I do.  Approaches magic very differently.”

“You’ve dealt with difficult trainees.” 

Lauren frowned—Moira wasn’t letting Nell off this particular hook.

“I know, but this was more than difficult.  My instincts were way off base with her.   I’d like to try again.”  Nell held up a hand to ward off any protest.  “I
need
to try again.  But not now.  She needs someone better able to read her or she’s going to board the next flight back to Chicago.”

“Well, then.”  Moira looked over at Lauren, eyes twinkling.  “It seems I’ve heard that you’re a fine witch in a tight negotiation.”

Lauren rolled her eyes as the swift moves of a master meddler neatly fell into place.  Nobody out-negotiated the Irish.  “She might find a sweet old lady a more welcome messenger.”

The twinkles doubled.  “And I’ll drop in for a wee visit as soon as you tell me that’s a good idea.”

Yup.  Outflanked by a tea-drinking septuagenarian.  “I’ll talk with her.”

“Make it fast.”  Nell was back to looking forlorn.  “I really do think she might leave.”

Moira patted her knee.  “You, my dear, should go have a chat with your brother.  Perhaps a small lesson or two with him would help bring our Beth some of what she wants.”

“Jamie?”  Nell frowned.  “You think he’s the right choice?  Isn’t she pretty unhappy with him?”

“Aye.”  Moira smiled.  “That would be why he’s the right choice.  Even at his worst, he brought out the magic for her.”  She paused, sipping her tea.  “He’s not nearly at his worst now.”

Nell snorted, amused for the first time since she’d arrived.

Lauren thought it through.  And hoped one day to be half as wise as the woman picking scone crumbs off her knee.

Chapter 7

It was hard to acknowledge a mistake—especially one that had been calling to you for almost two years.

Beth walked the slightly dusty lanes of the high school track, appreciating its comforting sameness, loop after loop.

She was used to new experiences feeling wrong, one of the side effects of having a strange brain in the normal world.  But when Jamie Sullivan had visited Chicago, she’d touched something very special and very right.  A magic more powerful and tangible than anything she’d ever known.

Magic freed.

And nowhere in Berkeley had she found that same rightness.

The pressure of strange people and strange faces—those were just part of being Aspie.  But magic here had forceful undercurrents—and she didn’t like it.

And if she was honest, the undercurrents had been there in Jamie’s visit as well.  There had been scorn for a decade of work and practice.  An arrogance born of superior power.  A man sure he knew the right way to do magic.

Nell’s magic lesson had come with those same seeds of scorn and arrogance.  A dismissal of different.  And it was hard for Beth’s different soul not to take that very personally.

But perhaps they had some right to the arrogance—the magic here was undeniably impressive.  Beth’s feet beat the track faster now, trying to work through her brain’s need to consider both sides of the scale.  Her heart simply wanted to blame.

They had amazing power.  Even now, her fingers itched to touch such magic.  But she didn’t fit in this world of the witching elite.  As a woman, or as a witch.

“Can I join you on your walk?”  Footsteps fell in beside hers.

It was very tempting just to ignore.  To tune out the world that kept trying to push in.  Beth wrapped her fingers around the pendant at her neck.  Ten years ago, she’d made Liri a promise.  To have and to hold—and to stay open to the world that made those things possible.

She glanced over at her unwelcome visitor.  “I’m going in circles.”

Lauren smiled.  “I can see that.”

There didn’t appear to be any judgment.  “I find it soothing.”

Lauren nodded slowly.  “I can feel that too.”

“You can join me.”  Beth started on her next circuit of the track.  “But my thoughts aren’t very friendly right now.”

They walked half the loop in silence.  Lauren peeled off a sweater, tying the arms around her waist.  “Care to share them?”

More steps, side by side.  Easy and quiet.  No pressure.  The gift of a slow conversation.  Something inside Beth unclenched just a little.  “I was thinking about the arrogance of this place and the people in it.” 

Stark words.  Unvarnished truth.  The Aspie way.

“It can feel that way.”

Beth deeply appreciated the even tone in Lauren’s voice.  No mystery, no emotions to decode.  “It doesn’t feel that way to you?”

“Occasionally, especially at the beginning.”  Lauren smiled.  “I married into that arrogance.”

Awkwardness slammed into Beth’s chest.  She hadn’t known.

“Jamie is a triplet.  His brother Devin is my husband, and his ego is more than capable of over-inflating on occasion.”

“I’m sorry.”  The weight on her chest had lightened some, but discomfort still crawled under her skin.  “I thought you’d only been here for a year or two.”

“Yes.  And Lizard’s been here even less.  Witch Central has a strong gravitational pull.”  Lauren looked over with wise eyes.  “Does that worry you?”

“No.”  Beth felt the other side of the scale insisting on its turn.  “Well, yes.  I won’t be pulled here—Chicago is my home.”  She walked, staying an even inch away from the line of white and trying to find words that wouldn’t offend.  “But I think maybe it’s part of what makes me too different to be accepted here.”

“I heard it was a rough training session.”

Beth frowned—warm empathy pushed gently from Lauren, oddly easy to understand.  “Are you using mind magic?”

“Yes.”  Lauren sounded surprised.  “I’m not in your head at all.  I’m just amplifying my emotions to make them a little easier for you to read.”

Another gift.  From an almost-stranger.  “Liri does that for me when she can.  I know it’s very hard work.  Thank you.”

“It would be difficult magic for her,” said Lauren quietly.  “She must love you very much.”

She did—so very much.  And remembering it steadied Beth.  “Maybe it’s not so difficult for you.  But I still appreciate it.  How did you know it would help me?”

“I work with an amazing woman at a center for children with autism.  She uses this amplifying of emotions to help her kids learn to interpret feelings.  I volunteer there sometimes with a little boy named Jacob.”

Lauren’s love for a little autistic boy was obvious.  “You use mind magic to help him?”

“Some.”  Lauren’s grin flashed.  “And pillow fights, and a very silly game of All Fall Down.”

“Play therapy can be very helpful for those of us with autistic brains.”  Beth struggled for words for what she wanted to say.  “You love him.  It matters.” 

“He loves me.  That matters too.”

Beth touched the pendant at her neck.  How many times had Liri said those same words over the years, until she’d been well and truly convinced of them?  “Autism doesn’t make us love any less.  It just makes it harder to show.”

“I know.”

Acceptance.  It warmed something in Beth the sun hadn’t been able to reach.

“You would know what it is to feel awkward—like you’ve taken a wrong step, said the wrong thing.”  Lauren’s words were careful now. 

“Yes.”  Every day of her life.

“I just spent an hour with a woman who is very upset with herself because she knows how badly she stepped wrong with you.”

It took Beth a moment to connect the dots.  Nell Walker was
upset
?  “She seemed… fine.”  Not that her skills at reading “fine” were worth much.

“She has a son.”  Lauren’s words took on the wandering intonation of someone about to tell a story.  “A very special boy with immense power.  The kind that puts him in danger on a daily basis.  Something could so easily go wrong.”

It was hard to fathom.  The old texts were full of magic and danger, but they’d seemed like only stories.  “Is he really so powerful?”

“Yes.”  More simple words.  “For Nell, I think it’s a bit like being Merlin’s mother.”

Beth tried to imagine such a burden.  “That must be very hard.”

“I don’t know that I could do it.”  Lauren’s words were softer now.  “He’s a very lucky little boy.  His mama is a warrior—full of fire and grit and skill.”

“She protects him.”  Beth felt her empathy stirring.  She understood fighting for what mattered.

“She does.”  Lauren’s path down the track meandered with little respect for the white lines.  “And one way she does that is to surround him with a strong and close-knit community.  She doesn’t intend to be the center of it, but she is anyhow.”

Ah.  The point of the story suddenly became clear.  “And I don’t fit here.”

“No.”  Lauren’s reaction was swift and definite and rocked Beth’s head.  “No, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant at all.”  She reached out and pulled both of them to a stop.  “Nell is a warrior, Beth.  She’s got a heart as big as the planet, but sometimes she has no idea how to do things quietly or slowly, and she can be very direct.”

Beth looked off into the distance, trying to escape the intense messages in the deep brown eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”  Lauren turned abruptly, walking down the track again.  “Jacob doesn’t like me to stare at him either.”

Trying to make her comfortable.  A litany of small gifts.  “It’s okay.”  Beth’s smile came honestly.  “You’re going the wrong way.”

Lauren turned around, surprised laughter bubbling out.  “Whoops.”

Kindness.  And understanding.  Beth tried to match them.  “Nell sounds like someone I would like to know—under different circumstances.” 

“I hope you’ll give us a chance to change the circumstances,” said Lauren quietly.  “We have a request of you.”

Wariness grabbed at Beth’s throat.  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You don’t need to decide now.”  Lauren held out a piece of paper.  “This is Jamie’s home address.  If you decide to give us another chance, he’d like to talk with you in the morning.”

Beth studied the paper for a moment, her gut as twisted up as an Irish knot.  “Liri is the best person I know at reading someone’s insides and knowing exactly how to speak to them.”  She looked up at Lauren, straight into the deep brown eyes.  “I think I’ve just met her equal.”

It took Lauren a long time to reply.  “I’m not sure whether to apologize or say thank you.”

Beth turned to continue her walk around the track.  Alone this time.  “I’m not sure either.”

-o0o-

“Oh, no you don’t, small girl.”  Jamie reached out with hands and mind and snagged his imp of a daughter right before she pulled his laptop down on her head.  “That’ll bang your noggin, cutie.”

“Ban’, ban’, ban’, ban’!”  Kenna dropped to her knees and scooted in her characteristic lopsided crawl, in love with her new word.

Jamie shook his head, amused.  “You just want to go visit Auntie Lizard again and impress her with your new vocabulary.”

They had a list of playmates, babysitters, and magical guardians a mile long.  A somewhat shorter list of witches powerful enough to stand middle-of-the-night shifts, their magic on call to contain Kenna’s mischief.  And every grandmother within a mile had tumbled into love with the vivacious, grinning baby who rode on his back as they walked the neighborhood day and night.

But it was Lizard who had discovered Kenna’s love for words.  A wide and vast array of them.  Poetry, Beatles’ lyrics, children’s rhymes, or Aervyn’s made-up nonsense—his daughter soaked them all in, transfixed.

It was about the only time she was ever still.

He reached for a Dr. Seuss book. 
Someone
was supposed to be taking a nap soon, and it was hard to fall asleep while playing World Explorer, baby version.  “Want to read
Sam I Am
, munchkin?”  He couldn’t hold a candle to Lizard’s rap version, but it was his girlchild’s favorite book.

Kenna plunked onto her well-padded bottom for a minute, considering.  And then shot him a lightning grin and took off again.  “Sa’, Sa’, Sa’.”

Jamie chuckled—he was getting better at the whole parental bribery thing, but his baby girl was a force of nature.  “Okay, I guess we’ll wait until you fall over, then.”  It wouldn’t be the first time.  He’d walked the streets with her at 2 a.m. often enough that all the bouncers and late-night pizza-delivery guys knew Kenna by name.