Spells for Forgetting(60)

There were things I would miss. The little rituals that made this place strange. Bonfires at Imbolc, harvests under moonlight, the sound of my mother whispering over the tea leaves in the shop. I was finally old enough to realize that Saoirse was a place unlike any other. Across the water was a whole new world.

My mother would be angry when she woke and found my note, but the wild parts of her—the parts that had once dreamed of leaving Saoirse—would be proud. My father would be sad, but as long as he had my mother, I wouldn’t worry about him.

Lily…she would be furious.

I set my chin on her shoulder, looking at her in the mirror. “You’re so pretty.”

It was true. Lily had always been beautiful in a perfect kind of way. But she didn’t smile when I said it, like she usually did.

“A completely useless quality, it turns out.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

I laughed, but Lily met her own eyes in the mirror, her mouth twisting to one side like she was trying not to cry.

“What are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “I’d rather be loved than pretty.”

“Lily, everyone loves you.”

“Not like they love you,” she said, too seriously. There wasn’t a joke behind the words. But just when I was going to argue, she kissed me on the cheek, breezing past me to the door. “Let’s go.”





Thirty-Five


    EMERY


I dragged the knife down the table, slicing the butcher paper in one clean line. Main Street was empty and the shop was dark, but I couldn’t go home. Too many ghosts waited for me there.

The sea air swept in through the propped open door, touching every corner of the small room. I bundled the willow stalks together, tying their ends, before I folded the paper over them and taped it. They’d been waiting to be properly hung for days, filling the shop with a sweet smell that reminded me of my mother. This had been my job when I worked with her as a kid, trimming the herbs piled in her basket and drying them for tea.

I hadn’t told a soul what Dutch said. Not even Nixie. And now that I didn’t have Eloise’s letter, I didn’t know what to do. Go to Jake, like I should have done in the first place? Tell the town council? The more I thought about it, the sicker it made me.

The worst of it was that the lie had been so easy to accept for so many years. I wanted to believe it, so I did. I never pressed for details or prodded Dutch about that night and I’d told myself it was because I didn’t want to remember it. I wanted to move on. But somewhere deep inside me, I’d also been afraid that if I did, I wouldn’t like what I found.

Lily, August, Dutch, my parents, Eloise, Nixie…I was beginning to think there wasn’t anyone on this island who hadn’t lied about something. And I was no different. I’d been keeping that file in my bottom drawer for years.

The stool scraped as I moved it to the window and I climbed up, hanging the willow from the taut string that followed the edge of the ceiling. The bundle swung, casting a shadow over the floorboards, and when the subtle clink of china began to rumble, my gaze drifted to the hutch.

The teacups rattled on their saucers softly, making me still. The feeling of it was palpable in the air and on my skin—magic. The whisper of the island that bubbled up from the ground.

I climbed down, taking a tentative step toward the hutch. I could hear my own breath, my heartbeat thrumming as my hand lifted toward the green teacup I’d sworn I’d never touch again. I could feel the burn in my fingertips just when the light shifted on the wall beside me and I jolted.

“Oh my.” Leoda stood in the doorway, eyes wide.

I pressed a hand to my chest, gulping in the air. “You scared me.”

She stepped inside, watching me with a puzzled look. “A bit jumpy, aren’t we?”

“I didn’t hear you come up the steps.”

Her scarf was wrapped up around her shoulders, hiding half of her mouth, but I could see the question in her eyes before she spoke it. “Everything all right, honey? You look a bit shaken.”

“I’m fine.” I cleared my throat, rolling the paper back up and dropping the knife into the can on the counter.

“Been years since I’ve seen you working with the tea leaves.” Her eyes skipped past me, to the hutch.

Leoda hadn’t approved when I took over the shop and stopped offering readings the way my mother had. She’d never let me forget it, either.

She reached into the deep pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small amber glass dropper. “Hans said you stopped by looking for this.”

I stared at it as she held it out to me.

“The nightmares are back?” she asked, lifting it higher.

I took it, turning the little bottle in my hand so I could read the label. I’d tried every herb I had for sleep in the shop, but nothing was working. I needed something stronger. Leoda’s tincture of valerian was a potent one that took months to make. If it didn’t help, I’d have to break down and finally go to my grandmother.

“I heard there was quite a scene at the orchard earlier.”

Of course she had. “Dutch and I got into a fight.”

“Hmmmm.” She sat on one of the stools, setting one elbow on the tabletop. “Everything okay?”