Twelve
Lorne checked on the kids, made sure Argos was all right, and I took a shower. By the time I got out, it was nearly one in the morning.
“Oh, Lorne,” I said, drying my hair as I walked into our bedroom. “It’s so late.”
“Or early,” he teased, smiling, having changed into a pair of sleep shorts, his T-shirt still on. “Either way, we have to talk.”
I sighed, feeling drained. “Well, we can try.”
“I know what’ll help,” he said, taking the brush from me. “You forgot to put the hair oil in. Go do that, and then I’ll brush it.”
“I can?—”
“Please, Xan,” he husked. “This’ll be the most relaxing thing I’ve done all night.”
Darting back into the bathroom, I used the large jar with the dropper, measured ten or twelve into my hand, and smoothed the oil through my hair from scalp to ends. It made it silky but could not combat the curl or the wildness, as Lorne said of my wavy mane that fell nearly to the middle of my back. I had told him it needed to be cut, but then he’d tangle his fingers in it and tug me gently to him, and I’d forget what I’d been saying.
When I returned, having changed into sleep shorts as well and nothing else, Lorne gestured for me. He was sitting up, propped by pillows, and I moved up between his legs, crossing my own, and he started to brush. He was so much gentler than me.
“All right now, are you focused?”
“I am,” I promised, though the brushing was very soothing.
“So where do you?—”
“Sorry, I have to ask, and I am focusing, just not on the part of the problem you’re trying to solve at the moment,” I said, looking at him over my shoulder.
I loved the mischievous grin I got in response. “Go ahead. What part of this insane problem are you trying to solve?”
“The getting-the-demon-on-Corvus part.”
“Okay.”
“Last year, yes. Possibly. If the demon didn’t attack me immediately, I could see it. But now, the second there’s a glimmer of I want to hurt Xander , the roots of all the trees would shoot up through the ground and suck it down under.”
“Which would be cool to see again.”
I turned to look at him.
“What?” he asked.
“When you saw the land do that in the past, those were very specific instances of defense. The land is not the giant plant from Little Shop of Horrors .”
He chuckled. “Toby was so cute in that.”
Toby was cute in everything. “He was, but, Lorne, Corvus is more beautiful than deadly.”
“I’m not disputing that. But it would kill anyone here trying to hurt you.”
“Or you.”
“Really? Me?”
I glared at him. “Of course. You know the land wants you here, and the cottage adores you. Both would protect you the same as they do me.”
“The cottage, I’ll give you,” he agreed. “But the land?”
I took a deep breath.
“Wait, listen, Xan, I’m not saying I’m some nobody off the street, but?—”
“You love pomegranates.”
It took him a moment. “What?”
“You love pomegranates,” I reiterated. “I like them. They’re fine. But I can take ’em or leave ’em. I prefer oranges, as they have more uses for simmer pots, and if you cut them in half, eat the fruit but leave the center stem and then pour olive oil in it to just below the top of the stem, then boom —you have an oil light that smells good.”
After a minute of nothing but silence, I turned to find him smiling.
“What’s with the face?”
He put the brush down and took my face in his hands. “Your brain, I swear, is filled with so many fascinating tidbits of information and fun crafts.”
“You’re patronizing me,” I murmured right before he kissed me.
I loved to be kissed by Lorne MacBain, and when he hummed as he did it, I realized I didn’t care that much if he was teasing me. I didn’t care even a little.
“Now tell me about the pomegranates,” he said, breaking the kiss I was leaning into.
“What?” I asked, my skin hot, almost itchy, needing to be under him.
“I dunno, you brought it up.”
He didn’t care at all, wasn’t affected in the least by being so close to me. It stung, but a niggle in the back of my brain reminded me I was running on fumes at this point.
I tried to scoot away from him, but he wrapped me in his arms and held tight.
“You think stupid crap when you’re tired.”
“Pardon?”
“Everything you do affects me, Xander Corey, so knock it off.”
“How do you do that? Just know?” I asked, trying to wiggle free.
“Because I can read your mind,” he replied with a grin. “Now stop trying to get off the bed. Stay here.”
I chuckled, turning around so I could see his face.
“You’re all flushed right now,” he told me, “and your eyes are that peaty brown I love.”
“What?” I draped my legs over his thighs.
“They’re hazel, so they change. They turn this gorgeous brown with gold in them when you want me.”
“I always want you.”
“Yeah, but sometimes you’re ravenous for me, and I would like nothing better than to attack you right here, but for one, there’s kids out there.”
“That’s what a door is for.”
He shook his head. “And two, we still need to talk, and three, I wanna hear about the pomegranates.”
“You have a one-track mind.”
“Definitely a plus in situations like this when we’re looking for a foul creature from the pit, but go on now about fruit.”
“Foul creature from the—I’m sorry, who’s tired?”
“Please…explain.”
Long sigh. “I prefer apples to pomegranates, and lemons, cherries, strawberries, blueberries, loganberries, things of the berry persuasion in general.” I took his left hand in mine, and the smile I got was so fond, I had to swallow a couple of times to find my voice. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said, out loud, that I would really love a lemon tree. A peach tree. A bigger assortment of berries. Cantaloupe, even.”
“Cantaloupes don’t grow on trees.”
I glared at him.
“They don’t,” he repeated. “But also, don’t Charles and Allie send their boys down here all the time with all those things you mentioned?”
“Not the point.”
“You bake for them, protect their land, their crops, and in turn, they keep you in fruits and vegetables, both fresh and canned, because, as we all know, you’re not so great at gardening.”
I could own that, and had earlier in the evening with Father Dennis.
“The birds, the deer, the bunnies, all frickin’ love your garden, but it’s more of an open buffet than anything you’re doing something with.”
I said nothing, instead watched his face as he spoke.
“It all works so beautifully. You get honey, eggs, and beeswax candles from Troy, and Troy gives the same things to the Wingates. They give Troy fruits and vegetables, his bees pollinate their crops, and then his chickens—and the geese that don’t actually belong to them—eat anything that would normally be thrown away. The Wingates give you goat milk—it’s crazy that none of you people eat meat, just a lot of salad and…ugh. And Troy with that mead he’s making now from the honey, and what the hell was with that cherry wine Charles brought over, and salsa with those amazing habaneros, and?—”
“You are so tired,” I said, laughing at him. “You’re babbling.”
“No, I know, but…between all the people who live on this lovely little street in this tiny town, you are all completely covered. There’s no food the Wingate Farm, the Johnson Apiary, and Corvus don’t provide for each other. I mean, you deliver so much bread and rolls, regular and cinnamon, and muffins and cookies. And as I’ve said a million times, the house smells so good every Sunday when you make the sourdough. I like to nap on the couch so I can fall asleep breathing it in.”
“That makes me deliriously happy every single time you say it.”
“And that lavender cake with the lemon icing. I…” He grabbed me suddenly, and I was crushed to his chest. “I love you and my life and this cottage and the land so much.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I love you too. And so does the land. Because for you, and only for you, there are stupid pomegranates growing next to the hydrangeas along the fence line between us and the apiary. Troy reports they’re beautiful and enormous.”
He froze, which was adorable. “There are?”
I nodded. “I have no lemons, which I need, or oranges, which I also need, but you?—”
“The land knows you get those from Troy. It doesn’t need to provide them,” he said matter-of-factly. “Don’t try and fool the land.”
“Really?”
“There are pomegranates? Just for me?”
“Apparently so, and all because you mentioned in passing one day—when you were out there in early spring, checking on birds’ nests with me, and that everyone has enough to eat, even the annoying squirrels—how much you love pomegranates, which, with their symbolism, is very problematic, but whatever. And so now, suddenly, we have?—”
“What problematic symbolism?”
“Fruit of death,” I barked at him, enjoying that quite a bit. It was petty, but I was jealous.
“No.”
“Yes, look it up. It’s true.”
“I’ll bet you there’s a lot of good stuff too,” he goaded.
There was. Pomegranates also symbolized life and regeneration, resurrection and fertility, but I was annoyed, so he didn’t get to hear all that. “No,” I lied.
“Yeah, there is,” he said with a rakish grin. “You know it.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbed my brush, and left him on the bed. He appeared quite bemused. Dropping the brush in the bathroom, I returned to find him gone and the bedroom door open. Looking around, I walked carefully through the living room, into the sunroom, then into the greenhouse, and saw Lorne outside, kneeling on a towel, his hands in the dirt like he’d seen me do a hundred times. He was thanking the land.
Insane person.
Putting my clogs on, I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “What are we doing?” I asked, though I knew.
“I wanted to say thank you and say how much I appreciate that.”
I noticed then that he had a pomegranate beside him. “Did you run there?”
“Yeah.”
Carding my fingers through his short, glossy hair, pushing it out of his eyes, I crouched down in the wet grass and sank my fingers into a bit of mud.
The man gives you his thanks , I said.
As we give him ours , the land intoned.
Sitting up, hands on my thighs, I looked at Lorne. “It says you’re welcome.”
His smile couldn’t have been any bigger.
Back inside, we got into bed, and Lorne curled around me, the perfect spoon. I told him to try and sleep, but he was already out.
Sunday morning, I made a pot of lavender and vanilla Earl Grey tea, and when Meijun and Shelby smelled that, it woke them. Not the noise we were making, moving around in the kitchen, but the tea. I loved that.
Amanda had shown up, dressed like she was about to go to the Kentucky Derby or something, after calling to see if Lorne and I wanted food. She, her hubby, and the kids had breakfast out again since Eddie was playing another round of golf with a client afterward, and Amanda, who sometimes took her children to church with Eddie, was skipping it since he was. She was sporadic about going to begin with, and any excuse not to go, she normally took. When I explained that I had company, she said she’d bring enough for everyone. It was her way.
Her kids were excited to meet new people in my kitchen. My groggy, sleep-deprived guests were not as thrilled to face the inquisition in the form of Toby and JJ. No one fired questions faster than small children.
Liam just wanted to take a shower, but before he could get there, he had to introduce himself and explain about being a paranormal investigator. Then he had to tell Toby why he had chosen that as a profession. When Liam looked at Amanda for help, she spit out her juice.
Jeremy got in the shower as soon as Liam came out. Liam put his dirty clothes in his duffel, then joined us at the table. JJ served him apple juice, Toby delivered coffee with sugar and cream options, and Amanda placed a bagel and lox in front of him. He appeared a bit overwhelmed.
“Eat,” I told him. “Food helps.”
Once Meijun and Shelby sat at the table, both wanting a cinnamon roll and tea—Amanda always brought options—I asked Toby to get the bag from the counter, where I’d left it the night before, and give it to Shelby.
When he picked it up, he asked, “May I look inside?”
“You may.”
Toby opened the drawstring, walked over to Shelby, and showed her the contents. “First you smell it,” he explained, holding it up to her.
She glanced at me, and I smiled at her. She then looked at Amanda, who also smiled, and then at JJ.
“You gotta smell it so you know what you’re touching,” JJ told her.
Leaning in, she inhaled deeply. I watched her eyes flutter before she said, “That’s heavenly. What is it?”
Toby looked at me. “Is it casting herbs to keep her safe?”
“And all of them,” I said, indicating Meijun and Liam, as well as Jeremy, who’d returned from his shower.
Toby turned to Shelby. “Is it okay if I hold your hand?”
Her face lit up. “Yes.”
His dark blue-green eyes, the same deep aqua as his mother’s, fixed on her face. I noted that Shelby, with her short dark-brown hair, just enough to curl around her ears, and big brown doe eyes, did look very young.
“So you build a small fire,” Toby told her, “or if you have a big one, that’s okay too, but not like a barbecue and not inside because the herbs pop and spark.”
“Okay,” she told the beautiful little boy with the short golden-blond hair.
“There are lots of spells and lots of ways to say them, and some people think there’s only one right way, but that’s not true. It doesn’t have to be fancy, what you say.”
“The words don’t matter,” JJ chimed in. “As long as they come from inside.”
Shelby smiled at JJ, then looked at Amanda. “These are your kids?”
“They are.”
“I’ve never met kids who—I love it here so much.”
Amanda beamed at her. Anyone who liked her kids, she was good with them.
“Are you listening?” Toby asked her, squinting.
She pressed her lips together tight, not wanting to draw the ire of the second-grader. “I am. I apologize.”
“Okay,” he said with a huff. “So I say, Friends from the forest, protect me for my highest and best . But you, if you’re not by a forest, you can say for the protection of all , and that’s for you and your friends,” he whispered, and she nodded quickly. He raised his voice when he said, “ And the harm of none, protect us all as we are one. ”
“That’s lovely.”
“It’s good if it can rhyme like that because it’s easier to remember.”
“Got it.”
“And say so mote it be at the end so the spirits—or if you have an angel like my mom does—then they’ll know it’s time for them to go to work.”
“Your mom has an angel?”
He nodded. “She says he drinks because she’s a handful.”
Shelby turned slowly to Amanda, and I had to cover my mouth so I wouldn’t make a sound.
“Outstanding,” Meijun told Amanda, who waggled her eyebrows at her.
Shelby asked Toby, “Anything else I should know?”
“If you pour it out, the herbs will be all mixed up. There’s lavender and star anise, and sometimes there’s rosebuds and cinnamon sticks and juniper berries.”
“And the tea flowers,” JJ offered.
“Oh yeah, that’s right, chamomile flowers and dandelions and pieces of cedar and oak bark.” He thought a moment. “At Christmas, Uncle Xan celebrates Yule, and at Yule, there’s mistletoe in the casting herbs, but not right now.”
“Thank you so much,” she said softly.
“Casting herbs just means things you throw in the fire or put in a bag or something. My dad says it’s like when he’s fly-fishing and casts his line out like this.” He showed her the motion Eddie Sterling made. “But don’t do it hard, because one time he hurt his back doing that.”
It was Amanda’s turn to cover her mouth so she didn’t burst out laughing.
“Mom says he needs to do what?” JJ asked Toby.
“Strength training.”
JJ nodded knowingly. “Yeah.”
Now Shelby had both hands covering her face.
“But even though the stuff looks like it’s nothing good,” Toby told her, “it’s a mixture, and Uncle Xan, he talks to it and makes it super strong. And when you run out, you can come back and get some more, okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes filling.
“You need a hug?”
Quick nod.
Toby put the herb bag down and leaned into her, turning his head so it was on her shoulder as she closed her eyes and tears ran down her face.
Meijun cleared her throat. “Could I have a hug too?”
“JJ,” Toby said.
Amanda’s youngest slipped from the chair, darted around the table, arms open, and Meijun scooped them up and hugged them tight.
“Oh, you’re such a good hugger,” Meijun praised JJ.
“I know. My mom tells me all the time.”
Everyone looked at Amanda then, who beamed. She might not be perfect, but in that moment, she was the mother they all wanted. She made sure to go around the table after that and hug each one.
It was a very nice morning.
Shelby, Meijun, Jeremy, and Liam were sorry they couldn’t stay, but they had to leave Osprey, which they had visited for the same reason everyone else did—the doomsday cult—and go directly to Salem, Massachusetts. They had a YouTube channel and a TikTok for me to follow, swore not to mention me, and would make sure to come back through as soon as they could.
I wasn’t holding my breath. They were all young, and things could change at a moment’s notice. Their paths could diverge as well.
When Lorne was ready to go—he had to check in at work as both Friday and Saturday night had been so eventful—he got the kids moving. Since he was going to drop them at their van, they were on his timeline. I hugged each of them goodbye. I’d packed up fruit, bread, and cheese for them, which they were all excited about. Normally I would have left those in cloth-and-jute-wrapped packages, but since Amanda had brought food, we sent them on their way with plastic, which my friend assured me would keep better on the road. I didn’t like it at all.
Shelby had my number and vowed to call. I told her I would love that, but no pressure.
“Friendship is never an obligation.”
“I know,” she agreed.
“And be smart in Salem. Keep that charm on.”
She promised she would, was about to close the car door, but then popped out of the police utility vehicle—she was riding shotgun—and ran back over to hug me again. It was sweet that she felt the pull to do so.
“They were really nice,” Toby told me when I came back inside.
“I think so too.”
“Do what we practiced now,” Amanda ordered her children.
Instantly, they both turned their backs on us.
“What is—no,” I managed to get out a moment before Amanda smacked me so hard in the gut, I had to bend over. I noted that there was no reprisal for her from my cottage for striking me. If she’d done it to Lorne… I shuddered to think. “Owww, and why?” I snapped at her.
“You were supposed to call me after you saw Father Dennis. You were supposed to tell me what was going on, update me, and…nothing. And then you don’t answer any of my texts. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? How angry, sad, and worried I was?”
“And then you brought breakfast.”
“And then I brought breakfast!” she yelled at me.
I walked into her, gathered her close and hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry. It was an insane night, and I will tell you all about it, and I promise that will never happen again.”
“Years off my life,” she said into my shoulder.
“No,” I soothed her. “No life lost.”
“I have to know everything, you understand?”
“I do. Forgive me. I was thoughtless, and I’m truly sorry.”
She grunted softly several times, then let me go. “Okay, turn back around,” Amanda instructed, and her kids faced us again as though nothing happened. They were well trained.
“Uncle Xan?”
“Yes, JJ?”
“Can you braid some sweetgrass into my crown so it smells good?”
“Of course. Did you bring it back with you?”
“Yeah, it’s in my bag.”
While JJ went to get it, Toby brought me my scissors, jute, raffia, and several stalks of wheat.
“What am I doing with this?”
“Someone took Mom’s broom from her office,” Toby told me.
“What?” Amanda asked, putting a mug of peppermint tea down in front of me and taking a seat with her own mug, across from me. “When?”
“Which office?” I asked. “The one at home or the real-estate one?”
“Why would any of us take down the one at home?” He was scowling at me.
Valid question. “Okay, so the besom at work?”
He nodded. “It used to be right by the front door, remember?”
“Wait,” Amanda said, looking at her son. “I want to know when you noticed the besom was missing.”
“The bells are still there,” JJ announced, putting the daisy crown from the day before in front of me, then darting into the sunroom to get a sweetgrass braid from one of the drawers. “I’m gonna get some white sage too, Uncle Xan.”
I turned to Amanda. “Why does your child need a daisy crown full of protection herbs? What’s going on?”