Wild is the Witch (15)
I could track him. Unbind the curse before it hurts anyone.
That’s my only hope.
I push myself to sitting and lean into Winter, petting her fur and taking comfort in her steadiness, in the way she would follow me to the ends of the earth. Farther than my own father was willing to go.
I give her a quick hug, then stand up and walk home. I’ve wasted too much time already, and I need to tell Mom exactly what happened so I can begin my trek to the owl. I don’t know what all the consequences would be if the curse was released, but I know with absolute certainty that I don’t want to find out.
Six
As I walk home, I begin working out everything I’m going to say to my mom. How I’m going to tell her about the owl and the curse and the enormity of the situation, but I stop when I reach the driveway. Sarah’s car is parked out front, and I suddenly wonder why I was called home in the first place.
I rush through the door and call for my mom, but I’m instantly greeted with laughter coming from the kitchen.
“Mom? Is everything okay?” I ask.
Half-drunk glasses of champagne are sitting on the kitchen table, surrounded by massive piles of food, and I suddenly feel as if I’m interrupting something.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to be working?” I ask because I can’t think of anything better to say.
“Always the responsible one,” Mom says, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and kissing me on top of my head.
“I’ll wait outside.” Sarah grabs her glass of champagne and walks out the back door.
“I want to ask you something, honey. Sit.” Mom motions to the table, and I sit down, my heart racing.
“You’re making me nervous,” I say. “What is it?”
Mom pulls out the chair next to me and grabs my hand. “I know Sarah and I haven’t been dating for very long, but we’ve been friends for over half my life,” she begins, and I take in the scene around me once more and it clicks into place.
“Oh my God,” I say, shoving back to look at my mom. “Are you engaged?”
A huge smile spreads across her face, and she nods excitedly. She holds up her hand, and a gold band that looks like ivy sits on her finger.
“Oh, Mom,” I say, pulling her into me. “I’m so happy for you.”
And I mean it. I mean it with every part of me. She pulls away and wipes a tear from her cheek, and I’m so overcome with happiness for her that it erases everything else just for a moment.
My mom is happy again. After everything we’ve been through, after everything my dad put her through, she’s happy.
“You’re okay with it?” Mom asks, looking at me intently.
“Okay with it?” I ask, laughing. “I’m thrilled. I love Sarah, and I love how happy she makes you.”
Mom nods and pulls me into another hug, and then the back door opens and Sarah is wrapping her arms around both of us. There was a time I believed we wouldn’t get through the pain of leaving our old life behind, and my chest aches, knowing that this was waiting for us on the other side.
But then the owl pops into my mind and my insides turn cold. Mom and Sarah pull away, and Sarah holds up her matching band to show me, but I can hardly respond. I watch my mom, the way she smiles and laughs and wipes at her cheeks, and I can’t do it. I can’t tell her about the curse and rob her of this moment she’s fought so hard for. I can’t.
“Iris?” Mom asks. I look up, meeting her gaze. “Honey, are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, forcing myself to smile. I will not ruin this moment for them. “I’m wonderful. I’m so, so happy for you both.”
Mom leans back in her chair and takes a sip of water. “Iris, what is it?”
They look concerned, and I realize if I don’t say anything, they might worry I’m not happy about their engagement. So I settle on a half-truth.
“It’s just something with the refuge. I can tell you about it later,” I say, grabbing both of their hands. “I want to celebrate with you.”
“We’ve been celebrating all morning, darling,” Sarah says. “Tell us what Pike Alder did this time.”
“It’s shockingly not about him,” I say, even though deep down, it’s entirely about him. “It’s the owl.”
“What about it?” Mom sits up in her chair, the smile slipping from her face.
“He’s gone,” I say. “I watched him fly out of the sanctuary. I can still feel him, but he’s far away. Miles into the mountains.”
“He’s not ready to be back in the wild,” she says.
“I know.”
Mom sets her glass down and looks at me. “That owl is sacred, and with so few of them left…” She trails off, and I sigh in relief.
I was counting on her reverence for the animal to get her to agree to my plan. The northern spotted owl is a threatened species, and she couldn’t bear to lose one that was in our care.
“I want to go after him,” I say. “He won’t get very far with that wing.”
Mom is quiet for a few moments, thinking it over. “It would be good experience for you, tracking him. Do you think you could be back here in a few days?”
“If he stays relatively close, yes. I just need to figure out how to get him to come to me once I actually find him.”