Chapter 23
Ibandied about the house most of Saturday, watching junk TV and going through the photo albums I’d found in the chest underneath the Blue Hoard.
I was restless and needed action. I’d been far too passive the last few weeks, ever since I’d walked in on Jeff with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. Sure, in fits and starts I’d made progress, but it was always two steps forward and three steps back.
One thing I knew with absolute certainty was that I needed to restore my memories and become more intentional with my witchcraft.
I spent thirty minutes staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, willing my memories to return.
No matter what I said, they remained hidden.
I couldn’t pull that sensation of deep truth that I’d used to restore parts of the house.
I couldn’t even access the anger and hurt that led to Jeff’s curses. Or my own son forgetting me.
Overwhelm was the only tangible emotion inside me.
It ate at me, a thousand tiny mice racing around the maze of my brain searching for cheese.
I prowled the living room like my wolf, anxious and unsteady.
I plopped down on the red couch, flipping through television I didn’t even see before turning it off with a huff.
It seemed silly. My own miracle question had been answered with a true miracle. The irony of that was not lost on me. A thriving business had been dumped in my lap in a place I’d once called home. Maybe work would help alleviate this restlessness.
“I need an office, House. I should make lists and get organized. I can’t keep it all up here anymore.” I slapped the side of my head. “Can you help me?”
A creaking sound at the end of the hallway roused me to my feet. Of course, there was already an office opposite my bedroom. I’d opened the door the first day I arrived then forgotten all about it.
But the office I stood in now was different.
Massive windows covered the front wall, overlooking the entrance to the Magnolia.
The tree-lined street with its charming houses-turned-businesses made me smile.
I couldn’t quite see Illusion Square from my view, but the tops of the Mighty Oak assured me it was nearby.
I’d missed this in New Orleans. The sense of community that a small town brings. My crappy office in a crappy shopping center was the opposite of soothing. Who wanted to get therapy next to a pawn shop and fast-food joint?
Surveying the office, I realized it was the very one I’d seen on a home improvement show earlier in the day, decorated in something the host called barnyard chic.
A robin’s egg blue desk faced the windows from the opposite end of the office.
Behind it were tall shelves with recessed spaces that matched the desk.
Flowers and vases sparsely populated the shelves.
Gumbo was already asleep on the bright pink chair in the corner. His nails and bow matched its happy hue. He opened his eyes a slit when I scratched behind his ear. With a purr, he drifted off. Soft music drifted from a speaker/charger on the table where my phone somehow had appeared.
I took my seat. It was wide and comfy, a soft cream color with leather like butter. A Bayou Bliss popped into existence on a ceramic coaster. I opened a drawer to find a stack of legal pads and pens.
“Thanks, House. Let’s get started.”
Business stuff was easier to process, so I began with that.
If I was staying, I’d need to cancel my lease on my other office.
I was fairly certain everything I wanted to keep from my home with Jeff was already here, but I would want to verify that with my own eyes.
I’d need to dissolve my corporation, or have it legally merged into the Magnolia.
I’d need—and my hand hovered before I wrote it—a divorce.
If I wasn’t staying, I’d need to formally resign my position here.
I’d want a new place with a new lease, and I’d want to move my office Uptown, which meant a small business loan I probably couldn’t get.
Maybe I would find a place like this Uptown or in the Garden District, granted without the magical element, and live on the top floor. That might cut down on expenses.
Either way, I was getting a divorce, which meant finding a lawyer. Jeff and I had a family lawyer, but he was a buddy from college, and I didn’t want to use someone who would show bias. Ethan seemed like the logical step.
My list drifted to the Magnolia. Succeeding as a therapist here meant resolving things with Doug. Whatever I’d done to him, the town was on his side. I may never have friendships with the Twins, but I’d have to find a way to work with them.
Both of those meant harnessing my power. I wanted to learn more about what it meant to be a word witch beyond the surface stuff I already did. Did I need to practice spells? Practice chants? Make charm bags or work with herbs?
I shuddered at the thought. If I had to garden, I would be screwed. Hopefully, I could find what I needed at the apothecary in Illusion Square. Or rely on House. I added helping House regain its full strength to my list. Was there a way to do that while still ephemeral?
I stumbled over the word as I wrote it. Ephemeral. Temporary. A reminder that I still didn’t belong. That I still took up space I didn’t deserve.
A chill landed on my arms. I shivered when my hand moved of its own accord, adding a new item to the paper: Stop seeing yourself as small.
Whoa. That hadn’t come from me.
“Okay, Agatha, was that you?”
I watched open-mouthed as my hand added new items to the list.
Trust your instinct
Do the things that make you feel strong
Stop making lists
Well, Agatha had a sense of humor, anyway. I focused on one of the items she’d added. What made me feel strong?
I knew the answer, of course. In high school, I’d been a runner. I’d continued the hobby through college, adding weights after Gabe was born.
Working out made me feel strong. At my age, taking up running again would be difficult, but not impossible. I could start with a treadmill and weights and see what happened. Did Treater’s Way have a gym?
Duh. Magnolia probably had a gym in the physical therapy clinic. I added visiting Lauren to my agenda for the week.
It still nagged at me that the ward Agatha had placed on me during college never wore off. That my own carelessness in life had created such a lasting impact. Who would I be if I’d returned twenty years ago like she’d expected me to?
I closed my eyes, thinking back to that period, and earlier, when my mother died.
I’d felt this same restlessness then, this same call to act.
I’d emptied that pain into a man. Ray Chase.
Ethan’s best friend until something happened, and they became enemies.
When he left, I’d channeled this restlessness into Jeff.
I dropped my pen and stood. What would happen if I used all my energy and power to become the best damn version of myself I could be?
The thought of it sent my nervous system into overdrive. But this didn’t feel like an onset of a panic attack. It wasn’t just my soul that longed for more. My body wanted to move.
I laced up my tennis shoes and wiggled my body. I wouldn’t run, not yet, but I could take a walk. I didn’t need to wait for Lauren or the gym. I’d work up a sweat on my way to Books and Brew. Some time in Illusion Square would make me feel better.
I could find a book about witchcraft. Buy some herbs. Talk to the tree.
And clear my damn head.
I marched down the stairs and past the house. It was only then I remembered it was July and not spring. That doggone Magnolia magic. But I was too amped up to care, and before I knew it my brisk walk was a fast jog. Then a sprint.
I should have stayed home.