I really loved it when he called me “woman.” I was in no rush to speak to him. As far as I was concerned, he didn’t need to know anything about this new opportunity. He’d only try to talk me out of staying, and though I hadn’t made up my mind about anything, I wanted the choice to be mine.
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I felt like I’d spent too much time reacting to everything the world threw at me. I was an adult, with a voice of my own and damn good instincts when I chose to listen to them. I didn’t need Jeff, Ethan, Agatha, or anyone else for that matter telling me what to do.
Maybe it was time I found my own voice.
My phone dinged again, setting my last nerve on fire. He couldn’t even bother with a phone call?
“I hope you get blisters on those text-loving thumbs of yours, and they never heal.” Gumbo’s warning about my words echoed in my mind as I laced up my shoes. I firmed my lips and shoved my phone in my pocket.
With a few more steps, I arrived at the small house where I’d grown up. Someone had painted it stone blue, a huge step up from the drab gray we’d had. There were whimsical curtains in the windows, and a wind chime tinkled softly in the summer breeze. Mom and I had a lot of love, but not a lot of money. It was nice to see that, whoever lived there now, was taking good care of the place.
I followed the sound of excited laughter around the corner. In the fenced-in backyard, an adorable little boy chased a fat gray Labrador. The boy’s bright blond hair was glued to his face with sweat, and red circles lined his chubby cheeks. He climbed on the back of the dog, whose head was bigger than the boy’s entire body. Together, they raced around the small patch of yard.
Unexpected tears welled behind my eyes. As annoyed as I was with Jeff, my son Gabe was caught in the middle. He’d been joyful and chubby like this once, too. And at only twenty, he still needed his mother. I hadn’t been there for him, and I’d totally screwed up our relationship. It was a knife in my heart to think about.
The boy and his dog had grown silent. They’d stopped playing to stare at me from the far corner of their yard. The dog tilted its massive head, reminding me of Cerberus. I smiled and waved at them both. The dog grinned back, his tongue lolled out, and a full cup of drool fell to the ground.
“Hi!” The boy shouted. “We’re going to race!”
“Good luck!” I called back, then wandered away. I wasn’t sure if anyone in this neighborhood had been around thirty years ago, or if they would remember me. A woman staring at a young boy was just a little too creepy for my tastes.
As their joyous sounds faded, it occurred to me the dog could have actually been Cerberus, tempting me to go back and look harder for a second and third head. Come to it, the boy could have been a wizard or werewolf or something. Who knew?
Then again, I’d been human when I was growing up. Mundane, I corrected myself, then stopped.
Except I hadn’t been mundane. I’d been a witch the whole time and didn’t even know it. Had my mom known?
Treater’s Way was a walking town. Few cars passed by, and my feet found their way to my old high school without any help from my spiraling mind. Growing up, it had always struck me as odd that some of the top minds in the world clamored to teach in a small town like this. The building itself was state of the art, and even thirty years later it still gleamed like new. Treater’s Way High had one of the highest education ratings in the United States, far above the rest of Louisiana. I was beginning to understand why that was.
My memories of high school, and even my youth, were a patchworkquilt containing bits and pieces of events. I’d been a bit of a loner in my day, with only the occasional friend. I’d kept to myself, aside from my morning runs with Ethan. Despite how incredibly hot he was today, we’d had nothing more than a friendly flirt back then. There was a boy named Alex I vaguely remembered. Lauren and her hive ruled the roost. But had I had good friends or felt like I belonged?
No. Not until I’d met Ray Chase. Him, I would never forget.
Even now, the thought of him crept through me like a predator. Ray Chase, high school quarterback and immensely popular, despite his bad boy attitude. Long and lanky and solid muscle. With arms that made a girl purr.
I swallowed several times, trying to coat my mouth, which had suddenly gone dry. I’d never been on his radar until senior year. He’d been injured in a game, and I was mourning my mother’s sudden death. We’d found comfort in each other. The hottest summer of my life.
The way I’d cared for him had cemented my plans. Helping him recover, mentally and emotionally from the devastation of that injury, pushed me to become a therapist. Agatha had always guided me in that direction, but Ray gave me confidence in my ability to make it real.
The dry mouth disappeared, replaced by a bitter coating that only Ray could bring to me. He'd left me so abruptly it sent me reeling. Armed with a scholarship and nonstop tears, I’d left Treater’s Way, swearing that…
Swearing that what? It was there, on the edges of my memory, not yet ready to do anything but taunt me. I’d reached Illusion Square, the area Lauren had explained was now the bolstering hub of the town.
Good timing. I needed a coffee and to leave memory lane.
CHAPTER 10
Idon’t know what I’d expected, but this trendy shopping center was an absolute marvel. The Mighty Oak, a massive tree with branches so thick and spread so wide it was a wonder it could hold itself up, acted as a centerpiece for the square. I wandered closer, nodding at the frazzle-haired woman murmuring to herself at its base.
But the nearer I got to the tree, the more I understood it was not a normal tree. Thirty years ago, this area was nothing more than a dirt-filled make-out spot, so I’d never had a reason to visit. But now, I could sense the vibrations that shot down from every leaf and rumbled through the roots.
“This is the heart of all of our magic.” I clasped my hand over my mouth, shocked to find I’d uttered the words aloud. The massive branches rustled their approval.
“Darn tootin’ she is.” The woman, in her sixties but with an air of youth to her that made me feel younger just being in her presence, giggled. She resumed her whispering, and it was then I realized she was talking to the tree, not herself.
Only a week ago, I might have questioned that. But now everything was different, whether I wanted it to be or not. Now, I found myself wondering what it was saying back to her.
Bistro tables and park benches surrounded the tree, and they were packed despite the heat. The shops themselves were four differentbuildings, each with two floors. I read the signs for each building, smiling at how unique and yet simultaneously homogenous it all was.
