Chapter 87
JASPER
Halloween hangs over Driftwood Pointe like a fever dream.
Wood smoke curls through the sharp night air, mingling with the scent of cider and burned sugar drifting from the stalls along the harbor.
Pumpkin lanterns glow from windows and doorsteps, their reflections trembling across the black water below.
I don’t know why I find myself walking to the Hex. Maybe in the hope that Goldie will be there. Maybe because Cara once was. Or maybe because this strange little town is still buried under my skin.
The Hex is packed when I step inside. Every table is full, and music flows softly beneath laughter and conversation. Most people are in costumes: witches, ghosts, sailors, and creatures I can’t identify.
Everyone looks happy.
I feel like I’m carrying a landslide around in my chest.
Before I even reach the bar, Rowan slides a double old-fashioned toward me.
I stare at the glass. The last time he handed me this drink, Goldie kissed me goodbye in here. The memory hurts now.
I take the drink, anyway, and sit alone at the far end of the bar, letting the celebrations wash over me without really hearing anything.
Then, someone touches my shoulder.
Goldie.
My breath leaves my body at once.
She looks… God. She looks exactly like herself, which sounds like nothing and means everything. I half-convinced myself that I’d built her up in my memory into something that wasn’t real. I didn’t. If anything, I undersold it. I undersold her.
I don’t move. I’m afraid that if I say the wrong thing in the next thirty seconds, she’ll leave, and this time, I won’t have the excuse of being half-delirious with illness to ask her to stay.
She isn’t wearing a costume like everyone else, but a red skirt and a cream blouse with soft frilled sleeves. Her blonde curls tumble over her shoulders as she looks at me with sad eyes.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then she says quietly, “I’m sorry, Jasper. Maggie told me everything.”
My chest loosens a little. “Did she?”
Goldie nods. “I know you didn’t use me.”
Bitterness slips out before I can stop it. “I wanted to help Maggie before I even met you,” I say quietly. “And after you looked after me when I was sick… I thought there was something real between us. Something special and unique.”
Her face crumples slightly. “There was.”
“Then you accused me of manipulating you and walked away.”
“I know.” Her voice breaks softly. “I was hurt and confused.”
For a moment, I simply look at her. God help me, I still love her so much it hurts.
Once I start speaking, I can’t seem to stop. “I came here because my grandmother’s life was destroyed. I grew up hearing half-truths and silences. Nobody would even say Maggie’s name in our house.”
Goldie listens quietly, not interrupting.
“One of the photographs you found, the one with Cara and Maggie, was taken at a birthday party for Maggie. They adored each other. My grandmother never understood why Maggie hurt her.”
“She didn’t mean to,” Goldie says softly.
I laugh without humor. “I know that now. But when you grow up watching someone you love trapped in pain their whole life, it’s hard not to want answers.”
The noise of the Hex seems to fade around us.
“Did you visit them there when you were younger?”
“When my family lost the house, it broke something in all of them,” I admit. “My grandfather never recovered from it. Neither did my father.”
“Did you come back here for revenge?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “I came back here to understand what happened.”
Goldie studies me carefully over the rim of a pale elderflower cocktail that Rowan has apparently placed in front of her without either of us noticing. “And the house?”
“Yes,” I reply after a pause. “Part of me wanted it back, but not by forcing Maggie out. I would never do that to an elderly lady living alone, no matter who she was. I wanted her to choose it freely, if she ever could.”
Goldie reaches across the bar and takes my hand. The simple warmth of her fingers nearly undoes me.
“We’re going to get the right ending this time,” she says quietly. “For Cara. For Maggie. For you.”
Emotion catches unexpectedly in my throat.
Then Goldie stands and tugs gently on my hand. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“To Maggie’s.”
I stop walking as we reach the street outside. “I haven’t been invited, and her threats last time were fierce. So, are you certain, Goldie?”
She looks at me, holding my gaze. “I’m certain about you.”
Her words hit me hard. For a long moment, I stare at her beneath the orange Halloween lights strung across the harbor. The lights bounce on her face and hair, and make her appear even prettier, if that’s possible.
Then I nod.
Together, we walk toward Maggie’s house.
The door is unlocked. That alone tells me something has changed.
The familiar scent of sage drifts through the old house as we ascend the narrow staircase, but tonight, another smell lingers beneath it, soft and peaceful.
Lavender.
Maggie is sitting beside the picture window when we enter. Onyx is stretched across her lap, unusually still and silent. For once, Maggie doesn’t look sharp or defensive—just tired. Her magic book rests closed beneath her hands like something heavy she’s been carrying for too long.
“Hello, Jasper. I knew you’d come here tonight.”
“Goldie said it would be okay.” I feel like I’m thirteen again, visiting a friend from school, trying to be polite.
I almost smile, despite everything. I sit on the couch opposite her, and Goldie lowers herself beside me.
Outside, the Halloween revelry continues to drift up from the street below—laughter, music, and children shouting excitedly.
Inside, the atmosphere is entirely different.
Maggie folds her hands carefully and begins. “I was your grandmother Cara best friend, and she was mine.”
The words settle heavily between us.
“We were inseparable once. Although your grandfather hated our friendship, Cara didn’t care.
We wanted to be together as much as possible.
” A faint smile touches Maggie’s mouth. “She loved the magic. Thought it was marvelous. She adored the fact I had Scottish ancestors because so did she. When we discovered that, we developed an instant bond.”
I sit very still, waiting for her to continue.
“There was a man following her. A stalker, you’d call him now. Notes through her letterbox, dead flowers left outside her door. She was frightened all the time. She came to me for help.”
I already know the rest, but hearing Maggie explain it somehow makes it real in a different way.
“I was arrogant then,” she admits quietly. “Too confident in my gift. I cast the protection spell far too carelessly.”
She presses trembling fingers against the magic book. “And the spell settled inside Cara instead. In her bones. In her joints. In every pathway of her body.”
Goldie sucks in a quiet breath beside me.
“She couldn’t walk properly after that,” Maggie says. “And when I realized what I’d done, I was too ashamed to face her.”
For the first time since entering the room, I see genuine self-loathing in Maggie’s expression.
“She thought I abandoned her,” Maggie says softly. “Perhaps I did. I couldn’t face her low opinion of me after what I did to her.”
I stare at the harbor lights beyond the window before finally speaking. “She never blamed you.”
Maggie looks up sharply.
“She left a letter,” I explain. “I found it after she died, in the drawer of her dressing table.”
Maggie goes completely still.
“She wrote that she knew it was an accident. That she forgave you.” My throat tightens. “That she still loved you.”
Tears fill Maggie’s eyes, but she doesn’t look away.
“My father found the letter too,” I continue. “Unfortunately, he wasn’t as forgiving.”
Maggie nods. “He had every right to hate me.”
“Yes,” I admit honestly. “He did. But it colored everything. I came here to get answers, not to punish you. I need you to believe that.”
Maggie is quiet for a long moment. Then she says, “The house should be yours, Jasper. I should have said it the first time you came to my door. But I was frightened. Fear makes people very stupid.” She gives me the ghost of a smile. “Even witches.”
Something inside me loosens for the first time in years. “We’ll agree on a fair price.”
She waves a hand as if the business of money is beneath her, which it absolutely is not. “It was never truly mine. Though you’ll have to rebuild that damn back wall.”
A startled laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “I noticed.”
“It’s been collapsing for years.”
“Yeah,” I say dryly. “I gathered that much.”
We both understand each other a little better. Not a resolution, but the first movement toward one, the way a tide turns with no one ever noticing.
Goldie looks between us with quiet wonder as the energy settles in the room.
Maggie turns toward Goldie. “Your mother was right. I should have told you about your gift years ago. You could have killed Jasper with the wrong dose of elecampane.”
Goldie folds her arms defensively. “You might have mentioned that before.”
“But you didn’t get it wrong,” Maggie says simply. “Cara was guiding you.” She holds my gaze. “I think… she’s been guiding you since you were small.”
I look between the two women, completely lost. “What the hell is happening?”
Goldie laughs. “I’ll explain later, I promise.”
Onyx leaps from Maggie’s lap with an indignant meow as Maggie slowly extracts herself from her chair. She carefully crosses to the bookshelf and returns the magic book to its place with both hands. The gesture feels strangely ceremonial.
Without turning, she says gruffly, “There’s tea if you want some.”
It is the most ungracious offer of peace I’ve ever received, yet it feels more meaningful than any grand apology ever could.
“Thank you, Maggie,” I say. “I’d like that.”
It’s a beginning.
Later that night, I stand with Goldie at the picture window overlooking the harbor. Boats rock gently in the water, the town glows softly beneath the moonlight and the party lights people have put up, and distant chatter drifts upward through the night air.
“The picture on the wall,” Goldie says, turning to face Maggie in her chair. “The dark-haired woman. That’s Cara, isn’t it?”
Maggie nods. “Yes.”
“You’ve been looking at her every day all these years.”
“Every day. Because I loved her.”