I held out my hand expectantly and almost in shock, she passed it over.
‘Wait,’ she said, dropping the jersey to the floor and snatching up my hand instead. ‘Is that Catherine’s ring?’
The instant her skin touched mine, I left the present, a rush of black and then another sunny day, another Ileen Stovell stood on the porch of Bell House, younger and less severe. By my side, two teenagers, one redhead and one brunette. Virginia and Catherine.
‘What do you want?’ Catherine groaned at the tiny blonde on the doorstep.
‘My mama said I could come visit,’ Ileen replied, unbearably hopeful and shifting her weight from foot to foot as the two older girls silently debated her response.
‘Did we invite you to come visit?’ Catherine asked, petulant.
‘No, but—’
‘Then tell your mama we’re too busy today. Come back tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Ileen went from crushed to visibly thrilled in less time than it took for me to cringe. ‘Same time or—?’
‘Sure,’ Catherine said as she closed the door in the other girl’s face, Virginia giggling at her elbow. ‘Any old time.’
‘OK! I’ll see y’all tomorrow!’ she called, waving at no one, Catherine and Virginia already cackling to each other in the kitchen, making plans to leave for Tybee Island without her at the crack of dawn.
I watched through the window as Ileen skipped away, no idea she was being double-ditched, and felt a pang of sympathy.
‘S-sorry,’ I stammered as the past disappeared and I found myself shoved violently back into the present. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I have not seen your grandmother without that ring since her own mother died,’ Ms Stovell said, completely unaware of what I’d seen. The blessing didn’t think she needed to relive the memory with me and I wondered if that was an important moment, not a huge defining occurrence, but one of those unpleasant little things that made you who you were, almostagainst your will. How many times had she been rejected by Catherine and Virginia over the years? Women she still called her friends today, who she invited to her home, looked out for when they were supposedly on vacation. I wondered if their indifference still hurt the same.
‘How do you have her ring?’ she asked, and I realized she was genuinely worried about Catherine. My heart sank to think she might never know the truth, about what happened to my grandmother or how she felt about her so-called friend.
‘It’s not Catherine’s, it’s a replica,’ I lied, hiding the jewellery underneath the jersey I retrieved from the floor to avoid further inspection. ‘She had it made for my birthday.’
It was obvious she didn’t believe me but as my face heated up, the sun became unbearably hot, causing the birds and the trees and Ileen Stovell all to swoon.
‘Well, Miss Emily, I can’t stand outside in this heat, but I want you to know I have my eye on you as I know your grandmother would prefer it.’
‘I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. I would invite you in, only I’m literally on my way out the door,’ I said, too late for her to believe me. ‘If you wanted to come over some other time, I’d love it.’
Something ugly flickered in her memory and I flinched, knowing exactly what it was.
‘I have guests right now, I simply cannot commit to anything,’ she muttered, backing away from the house. ‘Just know I’m watching you, Emily Bell.’
‘Appreciate it,’ I called as she left, leaving the door open and watching until she was all the way out of sight.
Catherine had her whole life to prepare for my Becoming. I had less than three weeks before Lydia’s and only seven days until her Wilcuma.
Not that anyone was doing anything to make my life any easier. Wyn was trying to act as though nothing was wrong, Jackson falling over himself to be of use and Lydia determined to master her magic as soon as possible, resulting in thunderstorms, record high temperatures and a tiny cyclone in Susie King Taylor Square that made the local news. Astrid didn’t attack, Wyn was certain she would wait until she was at full strength, but the threat of violence, from her and the man in my visions, lingered around Bell House like a bad smell and my anxiety over Lydia’s initiation into the blessing didn’t help in the slightest. It was only a month and change since I’d gone through the rituals but it felt like years ago, the memories marring what came before and after. There were no other experienced witches to walk me through the requirements, my favourite ghostly mentor was once again absent, so there was only one place to go.
‘Just the basics,’ I said, one hand on the door to my craft room, waiting to be granted entry. ‘That’s all I need. Doesn’t need to be a whole production, I just need to get it right.’
But the house knew me better. I’d always been an overachiever when it came to my homework, I was my father’s daughter, after all. So when I crossed the threshold into the peaceful space, the desk was already laden with objects, some I recognized, some I did not. A soft white leather journal was positioned in front of the chair and, as I sat, it uncurled itself like a cat waking up from a nap. The pages were blank – or at least they were until I touched them.
‘A new moon represents new beginnings,’ I uttered under my breath as the words etched themselves into the page in beautiful cursive handwriting I recognized from somewhere. ‘A new moon allows us to set our intentions.’
These were the words Catherine had spoken to me at Wormsloe, I was sure of it. As the sentences flowed across thepage, my memory sharpened, the wall of trees, the silver dagger, water, earth, fire, air. Flipping through the book, I watched as the pages filled themselves with the correct pronunciation of the incantations, phases of the moon, necessary herbs and crystals, everything I could possibly need to make sure things went smoothly.
‘This is exactly it,’ I whispered excitedly, smiling at the rippling rainbow-tinted walls. ‘Thank you.’
With the journal held tightly to my chest, I shot up to leave but when I tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge.
