A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) (17 page)

They’d eaten hundreds of bowls of soup, once upon a time.  Part of the scrimping and saving of getting the store started.  Beth smiled, warmed by the memories.  “Let’s take it downstairs and eat by the cash register.”  It had been their only level surface once—furniture for the apartment had come only after
Witchery
had been full of inventory.

“I’m putting up the lights—you can help me finish.”  Liri reached for the flowers, still beaming.  “Let’s put these in water, and we’ll stick them in our display window.”

“For winter solstice?”  Beth followed her partner out into the narrow hallway, bemused as always by decorating choices stuffed full of illogic.  “Wouldn’t that make more sense in spring?”

“Solstice is a time of dark.”  Liri’s footsteps sounded quietly on the stairs, feeling her way in the dimness.

Beth made a mental note to replace the bulbs in the crotchety old light fixture before she left.

“But it’s also a time to remember that the light comes.”  Liri opened the door at the foot of the stairs and bathed them both in a luminous glow.

The shimmering dance of a thousand twinkling lights pulled Beth through the door.  Her soul wrapped itself in the glow, the blazing warmth of the small fire in the corner, and the delectable smell of cinnamon cookies.

Home.

And German snickerdoodles—Liri’s great-grandmother’s recipe.  “You’ve been busy.”

“Yes.”  Liri’s happy glow matched that of the lights.  She reached for a cardboard box sitting on a stool.  “But I hadn’t quite finished.  The last strand is yours.”

The lump landed back in Beth’s throat.  Eleven winters now—and always, the last strand of lights had been hers to put up.  A quiet demand in the early years, from a partner who hadn’t been content to leave their split of accounting and store merchandizing well enough alone.

And now, one of their most treasured rituals.

That she’d almost missed it had the lump doubling in size.  She sat down in a chair, looking around the small shop.  Lights twinkled from every possible nook and cranny.  In the early years, Liri had left her an obvious spot to decorate—a small shelf or bit of greenery bereft of lights.

She looked around one more time, seeking the place that still needed light.

And then she knew.  Meeting Liri’s eyes, she clutched the tangled nest of wires to her heart.  They would travel back with her in the morning. 

Lights from home.

-o0o-

Nell set her kettle on for tea and took a seat at her kitchen table, ears baffled by the quiet. 

The noisemakers were still at Jamie’s house, the triplets were curled up reading in their room after helping to assemble the biggest bouquet in the history of Witch Central garden raids, Lauren and Nat had headed off to yoga class, and apparently the Walkers hadn’t adopted any stray children or puppy dogs in the last twenty-four hours.

Moira patted her hand.  “Enjoy a moment of rest—it’s very well deserved.”

Dragon decorating had been a raging success, one that had helped ease the guilt in Nell’s belly a little.  And the birthday witchlings would drool over the results.  “All I did was requisition enough crayons.”

“Hardly, my dear.  You’re raising three beautiful girls capable of loving someone the way they need to be loved.  You stand at the heart of a community that does the same every single day.”  Moira’s hands punctuated her words.  “And I do believe this particular event was your idea.”

“I sat in a corner and colored dragon legs.”  And had stayed carefully out of the way of the many people in her life who had far better instincts for making Beth comfortable. 

“Yes, you did.  And they were lovely legs too.”  Irish eyes asked for the rest of what ailed her. 

She’d been a passenger.  “It doesn’t feel like enough.  Like I did enough.” 

“When most people walk in a garden, all they see are the flowers.”  Moira’s fingers trickled through a few blooms one of the girls had left in a lopsided vase on the table.  “They don’t see the gardener who comes through every day and makes sure they have water.”

Nell smiled at the woman who had always been the witching community’s best waterer.  “I’m pretty sure that’s a bad analogy to use with a fire witch.”

“Mayhap.  But I’m elderly and frail of mind, and I couldn’t come up with a better one.”

Nell nearly snorted flower petals up her nose.  “Your mind is about as frail as a semi truck.”

The tea kettle began to whistle, and Moira stood up, amused.  “I’ve some nice rooibos left from the batch I made for Beth, if you’d like some of that.”

So long as it came with a heaping spoonful of sugar, she was fine with frou-frou tea.  “I’m no gardener.”

The gaze Moira leveled at her would have had lesser witches scrambling for cover.  “You’re the core of this place, and you do no one any favors by denying it.”

“I’m just a fighter.”  Nell unclenched her fists, entirely unclear why she was fighting something she already knew.

“I’m Irish, love.”  Moira’s hand settled on her hunched shoulder.  “The best of our leaders have always been warriors.  And mothers too.”

Nell sucked in a shaking breath.  “You think it was the right thing to send her home?”

Moira took two cups off the rack.  “You don’t?”

“I don’t know.”  Nell resisted the urge to destroy sugar packets.  “I’m afraid she won’t come back.”  And they’d finally started to get somewhere.

“She might not.”  The soft clinks of the tea-making ritual somehow gentled the words.  “But whether she does or not, it will be a choice.  One made with a better understanding of who we really are.” 

They were more than dragons and quiet basement coloring parties.  “I guess I was hoping she’d have a chance to see more of us first.”

Moira turned, sugar bowl in her hand, and came to sit at the table.  “Trust this place you water with such care.”

The water metaphors were making Nell’s magic squirmy.  “I want her to feel at home here.”

“Of course you do.”  Moira looked out the window a moment.  “But this place of sun and light isn’t home for all of us.  We have roots in various places that we also need to nurture.  Beth needed to breathe in her own garden for a bit.  She’ll be back.”

“You seem so sure.”  As did three girls who would be very sad if their new friend didn’t return.

“This isn’t home.”  Moira’s eyes were soft pools of green.  “But we will always find water here.  You offer nourishment, whether we plant here or not.  She’ll come back.”

Nell wished she had that kind of faith.

An old and not-yet-frail hand slipped into hers.  “And when the gardener needs nourishing, she should come and visit a friend.  I’m going to pop home for the night too.  You might come join me when the sky puts out her twinkling decorations this evening—I’ve a mind for a soak.”

Even a fire witch couldn’t resist that kind of invitation.

Or that kind of watering.

Chapter 12

Beth squatted down in front of their tiny, cantankerous fireplace and added another log to the fire.  A real wood-burning fireplace had been one of the main reasons they’d rented the small apartment.  That, and the retail space below.

Not that it had looked like retail space when they’d first found it.

She looked over her shoulder at Liri, who was lounging on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate cradled in her hands.  “Remember when we first got this place?”

“Mmm.”  The chuckle was long and wry.  “You decided the rent wasn’t a problem because we’d be dead of some noxious disease before the month was up.”

It had been an entirely rational fear—the previous tenants had left a nasty kind of squalor behind them.  And according to neighborhood gossip, the storefront downstairs had conducted several kinds of business, none of them legal.  “It cleaned up pretty well.”

“It did.”  Liri smiled as Beth settled back on the couch.  “And so did we.”

They’d been fresh out of college, eager to create a home for themselves, and slightly crazy.  “When we walked down the street tonight, I realized how much the neighborhood has changed.”  Including the latest addition—an excellent coffee shop on the corner.

“It sneaks up on me sometimes.  I say hello to Mrs. Andriychuk or dodge a skateboard as I unlock the doors in the morning, and it feels the same as always.”  Liri grinned.  “And then I take a look at our account balance at the end of the month, and I realize it’s a whole new world.”

Their account balance had rendered Beth speechless when Liri had pulled it up downstairs.  People strolling down the street this holiday season had money to spend.  

That
change felt really good.  Beth pulled her knees up under her chin, watching the flames dance up around the new log.  “It’s good to remember how far we’ve come.” 

“You know how to journey,” said Liri softly.

Here, at home, she could face the difficult truths.  “I’m hard to journey with.”

“Maybe so.”  Her partner slid off the couch down onto the rug beside her. “But it’s worth the effort.  Our circle is stronger for having learned to work with the mind and the heart that is Beth Landler.”  Fingers slid into hers.  “Our relationship is stronger for the same reason.”

Oh, she’d needed to hear those words.  “We’ve walked a lot of steps together.”  And for so many of them, she’d been the one pulling back, resisting.  “It’s harder alone.”

A slow smile crept up Liri’s face.  “You didn’t always think so.”

She hadn’t.  And she didn’t remember to thank the woman who had convinced her otherwise nearly often enough.  “I’ve missed you so very much.  It all moves so fast in California.  I feel like I’m losing my balance most of the time.”

“I think that’s exactly what you said when Mrs. Andriychuk’s grandson talked you into trying out his skateboard.”

Beth grimaced, amused.  That had ended with an embarrassed trek to the urgent care clinic and five stitches.  “I’m not very good with speed.”

Liri gazed over the top of her mug, silent for an uncomfortably long time.  “Do you want to be?”

That sounded ominous.  “I don’t know.  I tried some training with Nell and Jamie, and they both insisted that fire magic needs to be fast.”

The hand that reached out for hers was warm and steady.  “Are they right?”

Only Liri could make her want to look at the hard things.  “They might be.  I’ve been watching the kids.  There’s this tiny girl—Jamie’s daughter, Kenna.  She has such magic, Lir.”  And such joy.  “She lets the energies flow much more quickly than I do.”

“You’re a very careful witch.”  Liri spoke slowly, the dancing light of the fire casting shadows on her face.  “But you’ve also practiced your craft for more than a decade.”  She paused, gathering her thoughts.  “When Jamie came, he turned things upside down.”

He had—and Liri’s body language said he still wasn’t entirely forgiven.  “We managed.”

“Exactly.”  Her partner’s eyes flashed gentle fire now.  “You’re our leader—and the circle you built handled radical change.” 

Beth traced the misshapen handle on the mug that had been Liri’s last solstice project.  “You think I could do it.  Let the magic be faster.”

“I don’t know.”  Liri looked at her now, the direct gaze that she only used for her most important words.  “But I think you’re ready to try.  Do things differently and see what happens.”

Unwavering support—and a sturdy push.  Two gifts her partner had always offered in abundance.  Beth tried to accept them both.  “I’m afraid.”

“I know.”  The words were infinitely gentle now.  “Let it change you, love.”

Beth held on tightly to the woman who had taken so many steps at her side.  “I think it already is.”

Liri cuddled in closer.  “I know that, too.”

-o0o-

Moira laid her head back against a cool stone, admiring the shimmering night sky.  “She’s putting on quite a show for us tonight.”

Sophie chuckled from her seat nearby.  “It beats last night’s rain.”

A true earth witch never minded the rain—but fire witches from California weren’t quite so sturdy. 

Spluttering laughter from Lauren, newly arrived, suggested to Moira that she hadn’t been thinking quietly enough.  She never could remember that the warm waters made her mind leaky.

“Just for that,” said the last of their quartet, sliding into the pool, “I’m sending your cookie rations back home.”

It would be a harsh punishment indeed—the plate in Nell’s hand smelled of delectable goodness.  “I can hardly help it if you’re picking up on my private thoughts now, can I?”  Moira beamed in welcome and reached for a cookie, just in case.  “Besides, I notice you never come soak in my pool on the nights when we’re getting a gentle Irish rain.”

If Nell’s eyes rolled any harder, they were going to plop right out.  “Rain, I can handle.  Horizontal sleet at thirty miles an hour is the kind of weather that calls for a fire inside and a warm body to share it with.”

Oh, my.  Someone was feeling frisky this winter’s eve.  “And how is our Daniel?”

Sophie was chuckling again.  “You were in Berkeley just a couple of hours ago.  Surely the news hasn’t changed much since then.”

Time passed differently when you were old.  “I’m thinking a couple of hours is plenty of time for two as young as Nell and Daniel.”