Chapter 6—Seamus
THE MORNING SUN IS starting to get bright overhead as Bella and I make our way toward my old cottage. East Lily House, as the locals call it to distinguish it from the other lily homes in Evershift Haven, stands at the edge of a clearing, its white walls gleaming in the early light. It looks like a lily, but much larger, and it’s one of Grizelda’s projects.
A faint whiff of lily fills my senses, bringing back a wave of nostalgia that’s all in memory, since I’m not inside and can’t go inside. Someone else lives there now—a family with small children, judging by the colorful toys scattered across the front yard.
The gravel crunches softly beneath our feet as we move along the weathered path skirting East Lily House. “Watch your step,” I whisper against her ear, making her shiver. “There’s a loose stone just ahead, and the neighbor is protective of her flowers. I’d hate to incur her wrath by you falling into them in her yard.”
Bella nods, her green hair catching the early morning light. “Thanks. I’d hate to faceplant into Mrs. Whatsherface’s prized petunias.”
I chuckle, though I quickly stifle it. “Mrs. Thornberry,” I correct her, “And believe me, she’d have our hides if we so much as breathed on her flowers.”
We pause as a shadow passes behind a lace-curtained window. My heart rate accelerates, and Bellas stiffen beside me. We press ourselves against the cool siding of the house, hardly daring to breathe.
After what feels like an eternity, the shadow moves away.
“That was close,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “Maybe we should come back later?”
I shake my head, my resolve strengthening. “No, we need to do this now. I can feel my magic weakening. Just keep low and quiet. The last thing we need is to explain to the Thornberrys or the new tenants why we’re creeping around like a couple of burglars.”
Bella nods, determination replacing the fleeting fear in her eyes. “Lead on then,” she says, gesturing forward with a graceful sweep of her hand.
“This way,” I whisper, leading her through a gap in the fence.
The back garden is almost unrecognizable. When I lived here, I kept it meticulously maintained—herbs in neat rows, flowers blooming in carefully planned patterns, and the grass trimmed to perfection. Now, nature has reclaimed its territory. Weeds push up through cracked steppingstones. Vines snake across the ground and climb the fence posts. The rosebushes I planted have grown wild and thorny, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers.
Hecate trots ahead of us, her tiny paws leaving delicate prints in the morning dew. She stops, sniffs at a particularly overgrown patch of what used to be my herb garden, and wrinkles her nose. “This place looks like it gave up,” she says, shaking her head so her ears flap dramatically.
“It did.”
Bella says nothing, but I catch her watching me, her expression unreadable. Does she see this abandoned garden as a metaphor for how I abandoned her? The thought makes my stomach twist.
The wishing well stands in the center of the garden—the one feature that remains relatively unchanged. Stone walls rise from the ground in a perfect circle, topped with a wooden roof now green with moss. Ivy climbs its sides, but the structure itself seems solid enough.
I approach it slowly, memories washing over me. How many times had I stood here, tossing coins into its depths and making wishes? Most of them were about Bella, if I’m honest with myself. “I’m surprised it’s still here.” I run my fingers along the moss-covered stones. “I thought the new owners might have filled it in, especially with small kids.”
“It would be cruel to let them play back here,” says Hecate, barely visible over an overgrown clump of grass. “They probably figure it’s safe enough.”
“True.” I scoop her up, ignoring her growl of protest, and deposit her on Bella’s shoulder. “Better?”
She frowns at me in a doggy way, but says, “Yeah. It’s still rude to pick up a familiar without asking.”
“My apologies, my lady,” I say while trying to suppress a grin before Bella speaking distracts me.
“It’s protected,” Bella says, coming to stand beside me. “All the original wishing wells in Evershift Haven are. Town ordinance.”
I nod. “Makes sense. Real wishing wells with real magic are so rare. Mind if I take a closer look?” I ask her, already leaning forward to peer into the well’s depths.
“Be careful,” she says with a hint of amusement in her voice. “I’d hate to have to fish you out.”
The well’s circular opening frames a perfect mirror of sky, broken only by the rough stone edges. As my vision adjusts to the shadows, I notice the water level is higher than I remember, probably from the recent spring rains that have left the air thick with the scent of damp earth and new growth. “It’s fuller than usual,” I say, my breath creating ripples on the water’s surface.
Bella hums in agreement. “Nature’s been generous lately.”
I’m about to pull back when something catches my eye—a glint of metal beneath the surface, reflecting the morning sunlight in a golden wink. “Hey, Bella,” I say, excitement creeping into my voice. “I think there’s something down there.”
She leans in beside me, her warmth a stark contrast to the well’s cool, damp air. “What do you see?”
“I’m not sure.” I squint to get a better look. “Whatever it is, it’s shiny.”
“Probably just coins. People still make wishes.”
“No, it’s bigger than a coin.” I roll up my sleeve and reach down into the cold water. My fingers brush against something solid, with a chain. I grasp it and pull it up, dripping water from my arm as I straighten.
A silver necklace dangles from my fingers, water droplets clinging to its delicate chain. The pendant is a small, four-leaf clover, intricately crafted with tiny fae etchings along the edges, all symbols of protection and eternal love in the old language.
I know this necklace. I made it myself, pouring my magic and love into every link of the chain, every curve of the clover. “I gave this to you,” I say softly, turning to Bella.
She stands frozen, her face pale, gaze fixed on the necklace swinging gently from my fingers. The color drains from her cheeks, and for a moment, I think she might actually faint. “Bella?” I step toward her, concerned.
She takes a step back, shaking her head slightly. “I threw that in the Luminous Lagoon.”
I raise an eyebrow, surprised by both the confession and her tone—flat, almost defensive. “Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Hecate shifts on her shoulder, baring her tiny teeth at me. “She was grieving. Let her have her moment.”
Bella rolls her eyes at her familiar but doesn’t contradict her. She crosses her arms over her chest in a defensive posture. “I tossed it in three months after you left. I stood on Whisper Bridge at midnight and threw it as far as I could.” Her voice grows quieter. “I wanted to get rid of everything that reminded me of you.”
The words sting, but I can hardly blame her. I left her without a proper explanation, breaking both our hearts in the process. “So, how did it end up here?” I ask, examining the necklace more closely. The silver is untarnished and the chain is unbroken. It looks exactly as it did the day I gave it to her.
“Someone used magic to retrieve it,” she says, stepping closer to examine the necklace without actually touching it. “Powerful magic. The Luminous Lagoon doesn’t usually give up what’s thrown into it.”
“And then they planted it here for us to find. Whoever is behind this treasure hunt knows us and knows our history.”
As we stare at the necklace, something strange begins to happen. The silver starts to glow with a soft, pulsing light. The clover pendant warms in my palm, and tiny letters appear along the chain, glowing with fae magic.
“’Where coffee brews and hearts combine, the final treasure is where you dine,’” I read aloud, the words shimmering before fading back into the silver.
“Whoever came up with these clues is terrible at poetry,” says Hecate. “They should have asked me.” She sniffs. “Not that I’d help with this travesty perpetuated against Bella.”
“And me,” I say mildly.
She sniffs again and gives a doggy shrug.
Bella stares at the words, then at me with disbelief and irritation. “You have to be kidding me.”
I can’t suppress a smile. “This is the most literal clue yet. You’re the only café owner in town.”
“If someone planted this message,” she says, rubbing her temples, “That means something is waiting for us at my café.”
Hecate stretches, her tiny body elongating in a way that seems impossible for her size as she slithers down Bella’s arm and into her purse. “Finally, a reasonable conclusion. Now, can we go? I’m hungry, and Bella makes the best scones in town.”
I look down at the necklace in my palm, then back at Bella. Despite everything, despite the hurt and the time apart, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I hold out the necklace to her. “Guess it’s yours again.”
She hesitates, then takes it, careful not to let her fingers brush against mine. Without a word, she slips it into her pocket. “Let’s go,” she says, already turning toward the garden gate. “The café doesn’t open for another hour. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”
We make our way back through the overgrown garden, Hecate trotting ahead of us. As we reach the street, Bella glances back at East Lily House one last time.
“Did you ever miss it?” she asks suddenly. “This place?”
I follow her gaze, taking in the white walls, the blue shutters, and the garden now wild and untamed. “Every day, but not because of the house.”
She doesn’t respond, but her steps slow slightly, allowing me to walk beside her rather than behind her. It’s a small thing, but it feels like progress.
The walk to Moonwake Café takes us through the heart of Evershift Haven. The town is just waking up—shopkeepers sweeping their storefronts, early risers walking their dogs, and delivery trucks making their morning rounds. A few people nod to Bella as we pass, their curious gazes lingering on me. News travels fast in small towns, and my return has undoubtedly been noted.
“So, the necklace survived two years in a lagoon only to end up in your old wishing well with a magical message leading us to my café,” she says as we turn onto Main Street. “The universe has a twisted sense of humor.”
“Or someone with knowledge of our past is playing an elaborate game.”
“Either way, I’m not amused.”
Hecate trots ahead, her tail held high. “I am. This is the most excitement we’ve personally had in a long time. The last super fun thing was the town snowball fight in January.”
Bella snorts but smiles. “That was chaos but fun.”
“Magical chaos,” says Hecate. “The best kind.”
Moonwake Café comes into view at the end of the street. Bella pulls a set of keys from her pocket as we approach the front door. The café is dark inside, chairs still stacked on tables from the previous night’s closing. “Home sweet home,” she murmurs, unlocking the door and stepping inside.
I follow her in, inhaling the familiar scents of coffee beans, cinnamon, and the subtle undertone of magic that permeates everything Bella creates. The café is cool and quiet, waiting for the day to begin. I also feel like I’m in stasis waiting for the future to being...or resume.