Chapter Thirty-eight
A few hours later, in my apartment, Sam cradled my head on his chest. “I thought you didn’t want me, that I hadn’t responded right when you told me about your….” he said.
“That I’m a witch,” I finished.
After Sam had seen Byron Marshall and questioned him briefly, he’d arrested him and called backup to take him to jail.
Between the key, Wanda’s testimony, and Byron’s status as a fugitive, it was a good bet Byron would never see the outside of a correctional institution again.
When the sheriff’s deputies left, Sam had followed me upstairs.
“I needed time to let your news about being a witch sink in,” he told me. “That’s all. I texted you the next morning to see if we could talk, but you never responded.”
“I know,” I’d said dreamily.
“This witch thing,” he said, “it’s not such a crazy idea to me as you might think.
I tried to tell you, but you didn’t reply to my texts or calls.
Then I had to leave town for work. Maybe, I thought, the time apart would give you the chance to think things through.
I’d hoped you’d want to talk with me when I returned.
Then I saw you coming out of the tavern with Tyrone Beaudrie. ”
I ran a hand over Sam’s arm. “Nothing was going on there. Tyrone was no you.”
Sam kissed the top of my head. “I know that now. I thought I’d done wrong by not telling you right away, on the spot, that I had no problem with your magic, that I was more familiar with witches than you knew.”
I lifted my head. “What do you mean?”
“Aunt Marilyn. There was always something special, a little off, about her. People in town loved her, but in her earlier years, they feared her. Maybe you’ve heard stories?”
I had. I’d seen photos, too, of Marilyn with her dark gaze, standing apart from others.
“Then I stumbled upon her organizing the bookshelves just by looking at them.”
“You were there?”
“Remember, I had a key to the library, even as a kid. I let myself in one evening to get the next Hardy Boys mystery. Aunt Marilyn must not have heard me. I was in the atrium, and I saw her gesture toward the rolling shelf, the one you use to put books away—”
I nodded. I knew that shelf well.
“—and the books rose into the air and sailed off to their homes throughout the library, all by themselves. I couldn’t believe it. When I asked her about it, she just smiled and said I had an overactive imagination. After that night, I noticed other things, too.”
“Like what?”
“For one, she always seemed to know the book I wanted even before I told her. Sometimes I saw her talking when no one was there. After a while I figured out she was talking to books. Also, like you, she had a black cat who followed her around.”
I could picture them together—Marilyn, the witch, and her nephew with the quiet way and piercing observations, the boy who smiled when he was angry and frowned when upset. They were both oddballs and both remarkable people.
I rested my head again on his chest. “Tell me one more time how you tried to get in touch with me.”
Sam said he’d left me notes and flowers, but I’d never received them. Again, Beata’s work. I told him about her plan to separate us and her plot to have me release her magic.
“The crows,” he said. “There were so many crows, even at night. I’d wondered about that.”
It was so nice to talk freely with someone else about witchcraft, and I hoped he’d be my confidant for decades to come. I didn’t tell Sam about Lise—that was her secret to reveal or not, as she chose. For a solid hour, we discussed our pasts, our future, and magic.
“I always wondered about Aunt Marilyn,” he said again, “then when you showed me your magic….”
I didn’t hear the rest. I’d fallen asleep.
* * *
“I call the library trustees’ meeting to order,” Ruth Littlewood said from the podium, set up once again, in the library’s atrium.
The excitement from two days earlier had been nearly erased.
Marilyn’s portrait hung above the entry once again, with only a chip in its gilded frame as witness to its job subduing Beata.
Wanda’s mental collapse when she broke into the library was on the mend, too.
Duke said she was seeing a counselor, and she was looking into work as a kickboxing instructor.
I hadn’t heard a peep from her about cat books.
After a few nights of rest, my magic was back at its former levels. Even better, a few hours of Candace’s ministrations at the Beauty Palace had returned my hair to its natural red color.
Tonight, the atrium again teemed with Wilfredians, some eager to learn what would happen with the children’s books, and others there simply for the drama. Mother Tohler chatted with Ian and Lalena, who still wore the engagement ring.
“You’ll want children,” she said. “Lots of them.”
“Silence, everyone,” Ruth said, and we quieted. As before, she turned over the podium to Wanda.
“Thank you for coming,” Wanda said. Again she wore a suit, but there was something more open about her tonight. She smiled, and it wasn’t at all forced. “Our last meeting was very instructive. In the intervening days, I’ve come to a realization.”
“That cats are important members of our society,” Mona said.
“Not that,” Wanda replied.
Despite her words, I’d noticed a softening of Wanda’s attitude toward Rodney and vice versa.
Rodney was happy to lounge in the same room with her, and I’d even caught Wanda once absently petting him while thumbing through books in the self-help section.
If Mona played her cards right, she might even eventually find a home for one of her foster charges.
“No, my realization isn’t about cats, but about the role of a library.
A library is a place where we can all come to learn, be entertained, and gain inspiration.
It’s a place where we can challenge ourselves to understand other views.
” Wanda placed her hands flat on the podium and regarded them a moment.
“My mistake was to try to force my beliefs on others. Instead, I should have moved to share my beliefs with you, to give you the opportunity to consider something new.”
From her seat behind Wanda, Ruth clapped. “Brava!”
“To that end, I propose the library host a monthly discussion forum where people can present their views and answer questions. We can debate not just cats and birds, but all sorts of issues.”
This was perfect. I stood. “Thank you, Wanda. What an excellent idea. If people sign up ahead of time, and we might even be able to find experts to come and speak. We could offer modest honorariums.”
People in the crowd nodded here and there. “Seems reasonable to me,” Duke said.
“I’d go for that,” Mrs. Tohler added. “I’ve already been making notes.”
“In the meantime….” Wanda didn’t seem to be able to finish.
“Yes?” I said.
“In the meantime, the cat books remain,” she said quickly, and sat down.
When the meeting broke up, a new mood had descended on the library. I stood on the library’s porch to wave goodbye to Wilfredians walking down the hill toward home.
Parting the crowds, Lise’s Kia slowly approached.
I crossed the gravel drive to meet her. We’d spent hours together over the past few days, walking in the woods and talking about magic.
I felt a kinship with her, and I couldn’t help but remember Beata’s words.
Were we cousins—or even sisters? I’d questioned my mother, but her mind was curiously blank. I’d follow up.
Lise stepped from her car and hugged me. The faint scent of dark summer flowers clung to her, likely another vintage perfume she’d rescued from a thrift shop or estate sale. “I couldn’t leave Wilfred without saying goodbye.”
“It’s been great to get to know you,” I said.
That was an understatement. In the past week, everything had changed, and Lise had been a part of it. I looked at her, so familiar yet so different, like catching a glimpse in a mirror of a more stylish yet more bohemian version of myself.
“We’ll see each other again,” Lise said. “Astoria isn’t far.”
“We’ll definitely see each other again,” I said. “I guarantee it.”