I’m done with this town and every single memory of it. It’ll take a miracle to bring me back to Treater’s Way.
As the memory unfolded, a series of angry sobs erupted from a compartment deep within my heart that I’d sealed up tight and locked shut with a magical ward. Every moment of my first eighteen years rushed forward, fitting into the places where I’d created stories of my past to keep moving toward the wrong future.
Every vivid detail I’d glossed over. Every tiny voice I’d squelched. Every errant thought I’d ignored.
Including the mysterious meeting with Agatha the day she died. The woman, calling herself Stella, who’d rushed into my failed therapy clinic in need of assistance, telling me she was dying and didn’t know who to leave her estate to.
To soothe her, I’d reached into my metaphorical drawer of therapy tools and brought out the one I’d deemed most effective.
The same technique I’d used with Doug.
The miracle question.
CHAPTER 26
It’ll take a miracle to bring me back to Treater’s Way.
By the time I found my way back to the Magnolia, the sun was setting. I greeted House, longing for a shower and a chance to collect my thoughts. Thankfully, no alarm shrilled a warning when I arrived. I didn’t have it in me to face Ray again. In any form.
More than a shower, though, I wanted someone to help me process everything I’d learned. I’d told Lauren I forgave her before I knew what she was apologizing for. I didn’t know if I could retroactively unaccept an apology. Not that it mattered. Even with her claims to have changed, a part of me didn’t trust her completely.
The Twins were still in the “no” column. Lydia hated me, and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Lyra or her division of the Magnolia. And while Brianne would almost definitely provide an ear, I didn’t feel right tearing her away from her family on a Saturday evening.
I finished cleaning up, wrapped myself in the softest pajamas known to humankind, and decided that reality TV would be my companion for the evening.
I should have been more surprised to see Agatha rocking in the living room.
Her form was solid, the same blue Afghan draped across her lap. She smiled at me, and it was a smile I remembered.
“So, you figured out how to breakthe ward.”
“Did you know?” I sat across from her, pretending it was totally normal to have a conversation with a now-corporeal spirit. “You could have saved us both a ton of pain and effort if so.”
“I had no idea.” Agatha chuckled softly, her voice muffled as if she were talking from miles under the water. “It happened so quickly. I didn’t know anything was wrong for another ten years. I wasn’t quite myself after your mother’s death. Do you remember?”
“Like it was yesterday.” My own tears surfaced. I hadn’t thought about my mother clearly in thirty years. It was like mourning her loss anew. “I remember taking over her position.”
“You were an expert manager. Trained by the best.” Agatha wiped at a mystical tear. “You would have taken over, if I’d let you. Slipped right into the monumental space your mother left behind.”
“I didn’t want to stay, though, did I?”
“Oh, part of you wanted to.” She chuckled again, and it was like a warm blanket tucking me in at night. I’d laughed with her often. “Ultimately, you had to choose your own path. And I was concerned that?—”
“That if I stayed here, my path would have been chosen for me.” I leaned back, sinking into the couch. “It’s why I felt so pulled in different directions. I wanted so many things. To stay here and manage the Magnolia. To travel the world with Ray. To establish myself as a therapist.”
“In the end, pain made the choice for us.” Agatha shook her head and sighed. “That’s so often the way it happens.”
“You couldn’t have known I was casting my own spells. I didn’t know myself. I’ve controlled every life choice, even when I shouldn’t. All the times I’d doubted my abilities and told myself I wasn’t capable of doing a thing. All the words I’d used to stand in my own way acted against me.”
I’d blamed the town. Then Ray. Then Jeff. Even my son.
In the end, the only one I had to blame was myself.
“How could one sentence, an oath made in a moment of rage, affect so much?”
I expected the question to be rhetorical, but Agatha leaned forward with an answer that surprised me.
“You have to know, dear one, I had no idea you were a word witch.” She reached for me, unable to make contact. “If I had, things would have been different. You gave no indication as a child.”
