Chapter 27
The emotionally mature thing to do would have been to sit down like adults and discuss their relationship and their future.
The emotionally mature thing would have been to start with talking, resolve all of their issues with cool heads and, only after having done so, progress to the physical extension of emotion that Bryn felt certain both of them were waiting for.
But there was a dinner to be had first—an occasion so celebratory that Bryn couldn’t help grinning.
Her muscles were sore from it. Mr Wicks had approached the two of them as they ate scrumptious little cheesecakes for dessert, admitting that he’d imagined the governors proclaiming him headmistress in front of everyone, and sharing the speech he’d have given to turn down the job.
“I’m afraid I rather fancied myself the hero of the day, deferring to you and stepping back so you could succeed,” he said, shaking his head slightly.
“So I wasn’t paranoid,” Amelia asked. “They really did want you to replace me.”
Mr Wicks reached out and patted her arm. “Indeed. But you didn’t need a hero, Amelia. You were the hero.”
“I …” She trailed off, flustered, staring up at him, her bulletproof Headmistress Mode derailed by his candidness. “What if I’m really not ready, though?”
“Oh, if you think you’re ready, you’re almost certainly the wrong choice.
” He leaned in and lowered his voice, so only they could hear it.
“There will be a learning curve. I know you know that, but it bears repeating. You’ve been good at almost everything you tried for most of your life, Amelia.
This will take longer, and some of it will be harder, but I’m here.
I will back you. I will always tell you when I disagree with you, but even this old dog can learn some new tricks. ”
Amelia had tears in her eyes when she thanked him. Bryn had tears in her eyes when she pulled Amelia into a tight hug and whispered, “Even Mr Wicks thinks you’re a good headmistress.”
Celebratory though dinner had been, it had also been exhausting.
Some families had chosen to stay. A few who’d come from far away were even spending the night in Grimoire.
A flurry of administrative tasks followed—people signing off on their children going with them or with other students, Andi soliciting permission for children whose parents were not there, the final chaotic crunch of departing cars.
Bryn helped as much as everyone else did, making phone calls, organizing rides, acquiring signatures, entering them into the school’s fledgling computer system.
Amelia explained how that had been a big change in Professor Herringbone’s time, from the paper ledgers that had been used even while Amelia and Bryn were still at school.
It was staggering. Relying exclusively on paper ledgers was one tradition even Governor Schneider had not fought to maintain.
After-dessert refreshments (in the form of beverages and fruit) had been a much smaller affair, and they had been taken out into the back gardens.
This gave Bryn the opportunity, finally, to approach Circe. “I know you were angry at me for leaving, and you were right to be angry. I’m sorry I left at such a crummy time, but I’m back now. For good.”
Circe looked at her for a long moment, solemn-faced, nodded, and then her face split in a grin, and she hugged Bryn tightly for a second before running off. It was one of the nicest hugs Bryn thought she had ever had.
She spent much of the evening talking to people, eating, laughing, enjoying updates about what had been happening in the week she’d been gone: who had gotten up to what, who had been caught cheating again, this time plagiarizing a well-loved spell book for a school paper.
Mr Wicks had told that story, even though no one in his class had been involved.
“They think they’ve invented everything,” he proclaimed. “Students always do.”
The laugh the teachers had shared at this—including Bryn herself—felt like community, like the kind of found family she hadn’t known she needed.
If she had been looking for any confirmation that this was the correct move for her, she found it in that moment.
She didn’t want to be on the outside when the teachers talked about their classes, about their papers, about their students, troubleshooting behaviors, sharing both challenges and triumphs.
Bryn wanted to be part of that too, and she was.
Still, she intended to talk to Amelia, to Discuss Things.
To have The Talk. It was important to both of them, she knew, not to start anything on unstable ground; communication was the foundation of any relationship they would have.
Yet when they finally went back to Bryn’s cottage, which she had missed more than she thought possible, kissing came first, before words, before logic.
Kissing as its own language, just like magic, a form of communication that required a great deal of trust in order for it to be effective.
And kissing inevitably led to other things. Not immediately into the kind of sex fest she might have dreamed about while she was gone, but something else again. The cottage was warm and comfortable. This time, Amelia lit the candles, and Bryn doused the lights.
“We should talk,” Bryn said. “Right?” They were looking at each other, standing, hands linked.
Amelia stood on tiptoes to look her in the eyes.
“We will, but would it be so bad if we chose an alternative way to reconnect?” She kissed Bryn and then tugged her towards the bed.
They removed each other’s clothes in the flickering light, fingers lingering, touches prolonged, until both of them were naked.
Bryn felt hungry for touch, drawing Amelia down over herself, reaching up to kiss every bit of skin she could reach.
Sometime later, when the sweat was drying and both of them were catching their breaths, Amelia lay her head on Bryn’s chest and they did actually talk. Amelia’s fingers traced lines along Bryn’s skin while she spoke.
“I didn’t want to hold you back. I knew that writing the book was so important to you, and I thought that if you stayed, you’d only be staying for me.
I never, ever want you to pick me over your career or the things that you want to do.
So that’s why I told you to go. I didn’t want you to leave.
I just didn’t want you to stay out of a sense of obligation to me, or the school, or anything else. ”
“I thought maybe you were relieved to have an excuse to get rid of me,” Bryn admitted, her voice softer than she expected it to be. She realized only in hearing the words how hurt she’d felt, how vulnerable. How starkly painful that belief had been.
“No.” Amelia’s hand went flat over Bryn’s navel. “Never. I would never push you away.”
“Never?” Bryn asked, raising an eyebrow even though Amelia could not see it.
“Well,” Amelia said, “I might accidentally push you away, but I wouldn’t use the school or teaching to do it. I don’t think you understand how hard teaching is, even for people who always wanted to do it. It’s hard for everyone.”
After a moment, Bryn said, “I think I need to be gentler with myself. About teaching, but probably also about anything that’s hard.
Anything that doesn’t come as quickly to me as I’d like.
As much as I have wanted to write this book, I haven’t done it, Amelia.
I had all the time in the world, and I still didn’t write it.
What does that mean? Am I not meant to be a writer?
Is that just some dumb childish fantasy I took way too far? ”
Amelia lifted her head and looked around, cupping Bryn’s cheek with one hand.
“You’re already a writer. I don’t think that all the best books were written easily or quickly, or without a great deal of work.
A lot of them were probably incredibly difficult.
That doesn’t mean they weren’t worth writing.
Probably a lot like relationships.” Her thumb brushed over Bryn’s lips.
“Just because things get hard doesn’t mean they’re not worth fighting for.
Bryn Delmar, you’re worth fighting for.”
Bryn blinked, tears standing in her eyes. “Everything in me told me to stay with you, to be where you were. But I worried that I would lose my chance to write books and …”
“You’d regret it?” Amelia finished for her.
“Maybe. I mean, I didn’t think of it exactly like that, but maybe that was a big part of it.”
Amelia lay her head back down, sighing. “I’m glad you went.”
“Wait, what?” Bryn’s heart sped up again, and the irrational fear that somehow Amelia was dumping her surged forward until she took a slow breath and fought it back. Amelia was not dumping her. She absolutely knew that.
“Think about it, though.” Amelia’s fingers began to trace over her side again, soothingly. “If you had stayed, neither of us would be completely sure that it hadn’t cost you the future you wanted. Now we both know that you’ve chosen this for the right reasons. Not just because of me.”
“Although,” Bryn teased, “the sex is really, really good. I might have come back just for the orgasms.”
Amelia laughed. “I know, but no sex is worth throwing your life away.”
“No.” Bryn craned her neck forward to kiss Amelia’s head. “This isn’t that at all. This is establishing a life I never even realized I wanted until now. And that feels like a gift.”
“It is. It’s a gift we give each other.”
“So what happens now?” Bryn asked. “Do I still have a job? Can you even actually hire me?” While she wanted to teach, and would go back to school to train for it regardless of what happened, she did desperately want to be able to stay in the cottage, and follow the after-school club through the rest of their schooling, and steal the occasional night with Amelia in the grotto …
“I have been thinking about our human resources here at the school,” Amelia mused.
“As happy as I am to be headmistress, I don’t think the way Professor Herringbone went about it was right.
” Bryn began to protest, but Amelia fully sat up.
“I don’t mean that I wasn’t a good choice.
I just mean that if you have to force people to accept someone in a role this important, it sets that person up to always be insecure about their place.
How will I ever know if I could have gotten hired otherwise?
I probably couldn’t have. And I’m not going to throw away this opportunity, but I want to set future headmistresses and teachers up for more.
So anyway, I think we need a committee for hiring, and I asked Mr Wicks to be in charge of it. ”
Bryn blinked at her. “Mr Wicks? You’re not worried he’s just going to hire a bunch of fuddy-duddy old crones?”
“I don’t think so. And more than that, considering the way he has been with you and with Piper, I think I can trust him to be a good mentor for new teachers.
Even if we disagree on a lot of things, that’s the most important aspect of the job.
I don’t want to only work with people who agree with me. ”
Bryn nodded. “That’s fair. I did feel like he was supportive. But does this mean I have to apply to Mr Wicks for my job?”
Amelia grinned. “Mr Wicks and his hiring committee, yes. But I think you’ll probably get it.” Then she lay down again, and they linked hands.
“It’s been a long day,” Bryn said, only beginning to realize how tired she really was.
“And it’s a school night,” Amelia added.
They fell asleep soon after, letting the candles gutter themselves into little pools of wax, the light dimming until only the occasional glimmer of magic shone in the dark.