9. Opening the Floodgates
Chapter 9
Opening the Floodgates
I ’m a ghost as I go about the rest of my day.
Elizabeth was murdered , her child ripped away from her, and James was forced to live the rest of his life alone.
Raise a child alone.
And what of Abigail? She never even got to have any sort of relationship with her mother. I may be livid with my mother, but at least I have memories of her. I can go yell at her right now if I want to.
I kind of want to.
Elizabeth would never treat Abigail this way. Dad would never treat me this way. I hiccup as a frustrated tear slips down my cheek.
“The past is the past. All we can do is learn from it,” Grandma says, taking the book from where it rests on the countertop.
“I suppose.”
She sighs as she places the book back in its original spot on the shelf. Rosie jumps onto her shoulder from her perch. “It’s an awful thing that happened. There are other awful things that happened to our family, and there are beautiful things that happened to our family. Just like every other family in the world. If anything, sweetheart, remember that. Remember that we have a limited time on this Earth, and we can’t always control how our stories turn. All we can do is try to do our best to enjoy the time we have. Spend time with the people we love. Do the things that make us happy.”
She’s right. As usual.
That’s what I’m doing now. Spending my time learning magic, spending time with Laura and Grandma, and hopefully spending time with Noah. Compared to spending all my days and nights catering to Laura, catering to my mother’s emotions, and sketching? It’s not even a contest.
“Do you have questions?” she asks. “Now that you’ve gotten a small taste of magic, and of our family history?”
A frustrated chuckle forces its way out of my overstimulated body. “Only about a million.”
“Come. Let’s go sit down in my office and discuss some basics, so you’re ready for your first magic lesson tomorrow.”
I follow her lavender- and smoke-scented, muumuu-clad form through the curtains into her plant sanctuary. She gestures to one of the plushy armchairs and I sink into the green paisley one.
“Okay, first.” I sit as straight as I can, unleashing the bottled-up rambling. “What in the heck is the deal with the elements thing? I keep seeing it referenced everywhere. Are we talking about the periodic table or what?”
“I’m surprised you remember the periodic table, considering how you did in chemistry.” She eyes me over the lip of her teacup. “No, not those elements. The basic elements of life: fire, earth, water, and air. Every witch connects with one element, and that is how the majority of their magic is harnessed.”
“How do you find out what your element is?”
She places the steaming cup on its matching saucer. “Usually after puberty the element will reveal itself. If a witch is being nurtured and properly trained this can happen quickly; if magic is being repressed it can be a lot more difficult to connect.”
Add that to the list of things I’m fucking pissed at my mom about. “Mom’s element?”
“Water. If you remember the light bulb incident from last week...it exploded in a bunch of water.” A sad smile stretches across her lips. “She used to make these beautiful water orbs full of light in the evenings. When she and I would have picnics outside to watch the stars.”
It’s impossible for me to imagine them as mother and daughter. As a loving family unit. Part of my heart breaks watching my grandma hurt.
She shakes her head. “Anyway. It makes sense that you have not connected with your element yet. You wouldn’t know to look for it, and you’ve been repressing your magic. I’m sure once we start training it will come to you quickly.”
“What about Elizabeth? How did her magic come to her when she didn’t know what she was? And are you named after her? You don’t talk about your parents much, why would they name you after someone who had such a horrible life?”
“I should’ve known better than to open the floodgates with you,” she chuckles, no actual annoyance in her tone. “Elizabeth wasn’t actively repressing her magic, she just didn’t know it existed. You have to take into account that magic was something people were more aware of at that time, even if it was for negative reasons.”
Okay, yeah, that makes sense. I lean back, folding my knees up to my chest. Maybe I understand the plushy chairs now.
“As for my parents.” She pauses. “They weren’t bad people. Just not people meant to be parents. They loved me as much as they could, but the only reason they had me was to continue the lineage. Duty called and they answered. It’s why they named me Elizabeth. My mother used to say that I carried the future of the line in me.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“It certainly was. Then I met...Well, I had your mother, and I didn’t want her around that. So she and I stole away to a small town in Ohio and made a life for ourselves. Almost like James and Abigail in a way.”
I know not to ask about my grandfather. Even Mom protected Grandma by not talking about him. Whoever he was—is—he is a non-starter.
“And on that note.” She slaps her knees. “You should go upstairs early. You certainly won’t be able to concentrate after all that, and it’s only an hour before closing.”
“Are you sure, Grandma? I don’t want to leave you to fend on your own.”
“What, with all of the customers chomping at my curtain?” She smiles. “Go. Do something that makes you happy.”
I plan on doing exactly that.