Chapter 84
GOLDIE
Jasper is already gone when I wake the next morning.
After dressing, I head into town. The market is already bustling by the time I arrive, vendors calling out cheerfully beneath the enormous weatherproof canopy Jasper built for them. It’s obvious how much work has gone into this place. Everything is organized, warm, welcoming, and very loved.
I spot Jasper almost immediately across the market square. Relief washes over me. He looks so much better. The color has returned to his skin, and his eyes are clear again. I knew a regular doctor wouldn’t have been able to treat him—his sickness called for Maggie’s remedies.
The second he sees me, his whole face changes. His smile spreads slowly, warmly, and my stupid heart melts on the spot.
He walks straight toward me. “You came,” he says, sounding genuinely pleased.
“Just checking you’re not dead yet,” I tease.
He laughs softly and pulls me into a hug. The feel of his arms around me sends warmth right through me.
“I’ve got something for you,” he says, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulls out a paper bag and hands it to me.
“You bought me something?”
“It’s only a little something.”
Curious, I open the bag and pull out a beautiful hardback book of love poetry. My chest tightens instantly. “Oh, Jasper…”
“It reminded me of you,” he says quietly, suddenly looking far less confident. “I’m not very good at saying things properly.”
The sincerity in his expression nearly undoes me.
“It’s lovely,” I whisper truthfully.
He looks relieved when I smile.
Without thinking, I rise onto my toes to kiss his cheek, but Jasper gently catches my waist and turns the kiss into something deeper. He kisses me right there in the middle of the market, in front of everyone.
The vendors nearby pretend not to stare, though I catch several openly watching us with amusement.
Oddly, Jasper doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. If anything, he looks proud, which makes me glow with happiness.
When the kiss ends, he keeps hold of my hand and leads me through the market, showing me the huge tent structure, the storage spaces, the heating units, all the little details he added to make life easier for the vendors.
“I had no idea this was all yours,” I admit.
“I wanted to build something useful,” he says. “Somewhere people could actually make a living.”
“And Driftwood Pointe was your first choice?”
“It’s home,” he says simply. “Or close enough to it.”
Something about the way he says it makes me glance at him.
“My grandparents lived here for years. That’s the real reason.”
I immediately think of the photographs I found in the box at his cottage. The grand old house before it fell into ruin. The smiling family pictures.
And Maggie.
“Maggie knows everyone in Driftwood Pointe. She hardly likes any of them, though.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” His mouth twitches faintly. “I think there was some bad blood between my grandmother and Maggie.”
The comment lodges itself sharply in my chest.
Bad blood.
I think of the photograph of the two smiling women.
“They were very good friends once,” he says after a pause. “A very long time ago.”
The way he says it unsettles me.
The rest of the day passes easily enough after that, but later, when I stay over at Jasper’s cottage again to make sure he’s truly recovered, the comment keeps circling in my head.
Bad blood.
What exactly had happened between Maggie and his family? And why did Jasper really come back here?
By morning, the questions have grown teeth.
I dress quietly while Jasper sleeps beside me, though he wakes before I can leave completely.
“Hey,” he says sleepily, pushing himself upright. “You’re up early.”
I hesitate at the bedroom doorway, a sudden, horrible tightness constricting my chest. “Have you been pursuing me to get to Maggie?”
The question lands heavily between us.
Jasper freezes. “What?”
“You heard me.”
He gets out of bed quickly, dragging on his boxers.
“Goldie, no.”
But he won’t properly look at me. His hands fidget.
And suddenly, horribly, I know. Not everything, perhaps. But enough to hurt. Enough to make me feel foolish.
“You did,” I whisper.
“No—I didn’t start this because of Maggie. I wanted my relations old house that’s all, to make it come to life again.
“Didn’t start it?” My voice cracks. “So, Maggie was part of it. You don’t care that she’s old, and she’s happy in her home?
“Goldie—”
I step back from him, feeling sick with guilt. Maggie has been fighting to keep hold of her home while I’ve been falling into bed with the man trying to take it away from her.
My own family. How could I have been so stupid?
Jasper reaches for me, panic flashing across his face. “Please don’t go. Goldie, listen to me—”
“No.” I shake my head hard. “I feel awful about how I’ve treated Maggie.”
“That’s not fair,” he says desperately. “You don’t understand everything—”
“I understand enough.” I move toward the bedroom door again. “Thank you for the book,” I say tightly. “But I left it on the table. It obviously wasn’t really meant for me.”
“It was meant for you,” he says immediately.
For one dangerous second, I almost believe him.
“Please stay so we can talk.”
I can’t. If I stay, I’ll forgive him far too easily. So, I force myself to walk out.
By the time I reach Maggie’s house, my chest feels hollowed out.
I head straight through the living room, searching for her, but movement catches my eye in the reflection of one of the old picture frames.
The woman in the green coat.
Again.
This time she looks sad.
Then she vanishes.
I stare at the empty reflection, shaken. Who is she? And why does she keep appearing to me?
Maggie must be in her bedroom. I head toward it, intending to ask her about the woman, but before I can knock, I stop dead outside the doorway.
Maggie is casting another spell. The magic book lies open beside her while smoke curls upward from the candle flames in strange colors I’ve never seen before.
She looks strained. Sweat beads along her forehead while she adds herbs and tinctures rapidly into the large bowl she uses like a cauldron.
Something is wrong. Deeply wrong.
The spell feels unstable somehow, as though it’s slipping away from her control. I’ve watched Maggie perform magic for years, but never like this. This is even worse than before.
My pulse quickens. Is this another repellent spell? Or something else entirely? Whatever it is, I know one thing with sudden certainty.
It’s going to fail.
Before Maggie can notice me watching, I hurry silently away, down the hallway, my thoughts racing.
Behind me, the strangely colored wafts of smoke continue to swirl out of her bedroom, but I can’t interrupt her. I would only make things worse.