The Line (Witching Savannah, #1)(38)

Lionel closed his eyes and reached into the old pillowcase that was being used to hold the lots. His shoulders fell as he drew one out. He handed it to MacGregor, who proclaimed, “White. The lot is white. The Duval family has been exempted.” He dropped the lot back into the cloth and shook it before extending it toward his own son. Micah reached into the bag and pulled out an identical white lot, holding it up for all to see. The hint of a smile crossed Michael’s face, and his shoulders relaxed. “White. The lot is white. The MacGregor family has been exempted,” the elder MacGregor called out loudly enough for everyone to hear.

I scanned the room for Maisie and spotted her in the corner next to the library doors. She was whiter than any of the lots in Ginny’s old pillowcase. I smiled at her, and tried to send out waves of reassurance, but she didn’t seem to notice. I could hear the lots click against each other as MacGregor shook the case vigorously before offering it to the Ryan’s envoy. Teague reached inside and drew out a lot.

“White. The lot is white. The Ryan family has been exempted.”

“Wait,” Teague nearly shouted. “I need to go again.”

“Sorry, son,” Michael said. “One draw per family head.” He held the case out to Teague, who dropped the lot back in, angry disappointment coming off him in waves.

As soon as the lot had been returned to the case, Abby pushed forward and shot her hand into the bag. “Anyone care to make a little wager before I pull this out?” she asked, laughing. When no one responded, she added, “Well then y’all are smarter than y’all look.” She whisked out the lot. MacGregor started to speak, but Abby cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, we all get the drill. It’s white, and the white trash Taylors are exempt.” She tossed it carelessly back into the bag and it clicked loudly against its companions. “Preliminaries are over; let’s get on with the main event.”

MacGregor shook the bag once more and offered it to Oliver. His manicured hand moved carefully in and retrieved the lot. “It’s red,” he said quietly. MacGregor took the lot from him and held it high. “Red. The lot is red. Not much of a surprise, but we had to follow through with the ‘preliminaries,’ to borrow Abby’s term.” He returned the lot to the case and handed it to Oliver. As he returned to the center of the crowd, he patted Oliver on the back. “It’s all yours, cousin.”

Holding up the pillowcase, Oliver addressed the crowd. “It’s strange, you know, you feel the little bugger force itself into your hand.” He looked around the room. “No offense to Michael, but we’re going to have a slight break with both tradition and the theatre of suspense. I know we usually go from eldest to youngest, but we all know what we’re thinking here, and I don’t want to prolong the misery for Maisie any longer than need be. Come on, sweetie,” he said addressing Maisie. “Let’s end this thing.”

“I can’t,” Maisie responded flatly. “I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can, honey,” Ellen reassured her.

“Mercy. Go help your sister.” Iris called to me. The cousins cleared a pathway for me as I moved across the room toward Maisie. “You two came into the world together, you two can draw together.”

“You’re not in this alone. I promise you, sis. We’ll face things together no matter what.” Something played on Maisie’s face, a look that said something like “Easy for you to say.”

“I don’t need you to hold my hand,” Maisie said, her voice scarcely loudly enough for me to hear. She pulled back her shoulders and raised her chin. She looked nearly regal as she walked over to Oliver. I followed on her heels, just like I’d been doing since I could walk.

I knew she was angry with me, but after this was over, we’d talk it out. Jackson loved her. Maybe he was a little confused, a little afraid of the commitment he’d made to her. But what he felt for me wasn’t real. It was just a way for him to maintain a bit of his bachelorhood, keep one little toe out of the water. That’s all it was, I told myself, not letting myself consider whether it was true or merely a crutch I was using to help us all over this rough patch. They would marry, and I would marry Peter. The four of us would grow old together and sit out on the porch of this very house laughing about what had happened today.

“But I do need you,” I told her. “I need you to hold my hand.” She held my gaze, and the irritation on her face melted away.

“Together?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Together,” I responded and took her hand. Oliver held the case out to us. Still holding onto each other, we reached into the bag with our free hands. I squeezed her hand tightly as we pulled our respective lots from the bag. My heart soared as I saw the lot she had drawn. White. She was free.

I squealed and hugged her, starting to dance around. Oliver’s sharp, “Mercy!” cut into me, and I swiveled to look at him, a bit confused by his severity. That was when I saw it. The lot I was holding was red. I looked at Maisie and was astounded to see the look of shock in her eyes harden into an expression of absolute hatred. Her forehead was pinched, and her teeth were exposed in an open mouth grimace. She ripped her hand from my grasp.

“You put a magnet on the end of a nail, and the nail becomes a magnet too,” Connor announced into the stunned silence. “You girls shouldn’t have gone together, and you shouldn’t have been holding hands.”