Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Regina Caldwell had never been one for domesticity.
Dipping candles, harvesting honey, and managing her bees, yes.
But these were things witches did; these were acts of magic.
She supposed there were witches who enjoyed setting a table or infusing intention into sweeping their entryway.
With Honeysuckle House, there was no need for a broom.
All that to say, she never expected to take up crocheting.
Yet here she was at fifty-two years old, sitting on the lounge chair in her living room, alternating between rows of single and half-double stitches.
No matter how many times she counted her chains, her work always came out slightly misshapen.
After her fifth attempt, she gave in to the imperfections.
Her granddaughter wouldn’t notice them until she was much older anyway, and by then they’d feel charming rather than lazy.
Her daughter lay across their couch, one hand on her over-large belly and her feet on her husband’s legs.
After Regina mentioned wanting another little witch in her family, Linda had dipped and lit a couple of pink candles, and despite the town’s avoidance of the Caldwells and their curse, Robert had only had eyes for Linda.
They’d married a couple of months later, Linda already pregnant with a child that was due any day now.
Robert had settled into their lives like he’d always been there.
While Regina had no particular love for the man, she did enjoy his passion for cooking, something neither she nor Linda had ever picked up.
Besides, he’d provided Regina with a grandchild, and that was more than enough of a reason to tolerate having a man in her home for a short while.
“Are you not worried about the curse at all?” Linda asked as she sipped a cup of raspberry tea. “After it took Violet …”
“Aunt Violet,” Regina corrected her. Though her daughter may never have had the chance to get to know Regina’s sister, it felt important to remember her in this way. After all, Regina had never loved anyone quite so much as she’d loved her sister.
Linda rolled her eyes, then winced. “Ouch.”
“Sorry,” Robert said. “Too much pressure?”
But Linda shook her head. “Not you,” she said. “Florence. Seems she’s just as worried about all of us as I am.”
“I’m sure your mother’s magic will take care of us,” Robert said.
“I can’t believe you’re taking her side,” Linda said with a sigh she had no right to. Her eyes met Regina’s. They both knew about the candles Linda had dipped and burned to keep Robert’s worries at bay. To her mother she said, “Your magic didn’t work last time.”
“I’ve had another thirteen years to work things out,” Regina said. “This time, we’ll be safe.”
Her daughter tapped her fingertips against her belly, her lips pressed thin. “Last time you let me help you.”
“Last time, your magic wasn’t affected by it,” Regina said.
The past week had been like 1973 all over again.
As soon as October arrived, Regina’s candles started looking like the blanket in her lap—rough and haphazard—the work of a novice.
When Linda had come to her after trying to dip a candle for the baby’s health, Regina discovered her daughter’s magic hadn’t fared any better than her own.
And with each day that brought them closer to the thirteenth, things only got worse.
They’d stopped dipping candles altogether a few days ago after Linda’s shirt had caught fire while she was trying to light a stubborn wick.
“I still think we should work the spell together,” Linda said. “Two witches are better than one.”
“You need rest,” Regina told her.
What she didn’t say was she’d already prepared the candles she needed, well before the changes to her magic took hold. Now, it was only a matter of time before the curse day arrived. Then, she could light them, and all would be as it should.