Page 70 of Witchy Woman
It’s why everything with Mom was able to blow us apart. Because we were never solid and that...sucks.
“It’s perfect,” I say, instead of everything else in my head. Because it is. I’m the one who isn’t. “Thank you.”
I don’t want to have a sisterly bonding moment, so I hand my gift to her without meeting her gaze. Just like Grandma’s I picked out a cute wrapping paper—little presents with smiley faces—and taped it up to the best of my ability. Slapped a little bow on top and everything.
She carefully unwraps the necklace and tilts her head, letting it hang between her fingers to catch the light. “It’s beautiful, Laura.”
“It’s a protection spell.”
I don’t imagine the little hiccup in Hazel’s throat, as if she’s trying to hold back a sob. My eyes remain glued to the floor.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Even this feels right. Like I’m taking a step of my own to mend this rift between us.
Grandma clears her throat. “One more gift from me.”
Hazel and I both take the proffered boxes. I open mine to find a natural pearl necklace, a vintage piece that certainly has been around for a while. It’s just one strand, and the pearls themselves are about the size of my thumbnail.
“Laura, those are my mother’s pearls. Pearl is for self-care and nurturing. I’m hoping it will encourage you to love yourself as much as I do.” She turns to Hazel as I discreetly wipe a tear from my cheek. “Hazel, that is my grandmother’s circlet. She was also an Air witch and apparently tuned it to her magic. I hope it helps you focus your magic as it did for her.”
We murmur our thanks, a weird energy hanging over the room like smoke. As if these gifts show we love each other but that love isn’t enough to wipe away all the other junk we have to go through.
We have to talk. And that’s truly the last fucking thing I want to do. But I’ve finally accepted that I’m not going to have a real relationship with my sister unless we do.
We just have to actually do it.
A knock on the door captures our attention and snaps the tension in the room like a rubber band, and like magic I know exactly who it is. We’ve spent enough time together now that I can sense his presence from far away.
Ash. Thank fuck.
I practically leap toward the door, toward the person I love most.
I open the door to his face, and I may have seen him only a couple hours ago but I don’t think I’ve ever missed someone so wholly. My happy smile slips until his eyebrows furrow in worry, and he takes me into his arms without a word.
A throat is cleared behind him. Ash leans back a little but keeps me wrapped in his arms. “Dad, this is my Laura. Laura, this is my father, Birch Cedar.”
Birch is practically an older clone of Ash. He’s not as tall, but he’s just as wide and has the same kind, emerald eyes. His hair is gone, and he’s a little thinner than he is in the photo on Ash’s dresser, but I know chemo has been hard on him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” I reply, sticking out my hand and skipping over the jumping jacks my heart is doing in response to being called ‘my Laura.’
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Laura.” He grasps my hand. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but Ash told me you’re his soulmate. It brings me so much joy that you’ve found each other. That I’ll get to see your love blossom.”
So that’s where Ash gets it from.
“I always wanted a daughter, you know.”
Ash breathes heavily, smiling despite the exasperation. “She doesn’t need someone else fawning after her, Dad. She has the entire world eating out of the palm of her hand.”
“I am literally right here,” I grumble with no bite. I smile as I guide them into the house.
“Birch Cedar, it is so lovely to see you,” Grandma says. “Can I get you some tea, some coffee?”
“Some tea would be wonderful, Ms. Pruitt.” Birch dips his head to her. He’s probably been calling her that since he was a kid.
“This is my sister, Hazel,” I say, introducing the only other person in the room.
Pleasantries are exchanged as I burrow into Ash’s safety and warmth. Into the beautiful soothing hum of the electric current passing between us.
