Page 20 of Impractical Magic

She began with the bulk herbs, which were collected in large barrels in the center of the room. The array of herbs lent the back room an indescribably funky smell that Scarlett couldn’t decide if she loved or hated. Checking her mother’s list, she helped herself to some dried sage, rosemary, and mugwort, plus rowan tree berries and dragon thorns, and something called iron thistle, which Scarlett had never even heard of but there it was, glinting away in its own barrel beside more typical thistles of the marsh and field.

Next Scarlett selected a number of rune candles, a satchel of obsidian dust, and a small box of shattered mirrors. Then she moved on to the shelves packed with little glass bottles: bottles of wishes, bottles of distilled emotion, even bottles of quietude, each gathered from a uniquely silent place.

As she shopped, Scarlett couldn’t help remembering what Luna had said last night—about Nate, and how this was their time. On the one hand, it was an absurd idea. If anything was ever going to happen between them, it would’ve happened back when they were teenagers. She’d spent a decade building her life on the West Coast. It was too late for any nonsense here in Oak Haven. And not for nothing, but if their interaction yesterday was any indicator, they weren’t capable of being in the same room without picking at each other.

On the other hand, he did look ridiculously good in burgundy . . .

The door opened and Nate poked his head in. “Need help finding anything?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. Nate had become a professional startler, so it seemed. “Umm . . .” She scanned her list to make sure she didn’t miss anything. “I think I’m doing all right, actually.”

“Do you need anything for plant magic?” Nate asked. “What do you ladies call it, horti-something?”

“Hortikinesis.”

“Right. The last time magic went off, it was a problem with the oak trees, wasn’t it?”

“It was, but . . .” Scarlett shrugged. “Nothing hortikinetical on my list. I’ll tell you what, though: I sure hope it’s not the trees this time. Fixing the trees was . . .” She sighed. “Fixing the trees broke everything else.”

“Yeah, about that . . .” Nate said slowly. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

“You do?”

“Yesterday, you know . . . I hadn’t seen you in ten years and practically the first thing out of my mouth was a dig about your dad, and making fun of San Francisco . . . It just . . . I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it, and it doesn’t sit right with me, that I said that stuff.”

Nate’s apology sent a warmth spreading though Scarlett’s chest. No fair, she thought, you can’t do a whole Tom-Hardy-as-lumberjack look and then be a sweetheart too. “Aw, it’s . . . it’s okay. I mean . . . you’re right, I have stayed away too long. And as for Dad, it’s fine to mention him. After all, he died ten years ago.”

“Yet you still blame yourself. Which is crazy, by the way.”

“You know, there’s nothing a gal loves more than being apologized to and immediately told she’s crazy. Most guys do it in the other order, but . . .”

Nate flushed. “Oh man, I can’t get this right at all, can I?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, smiling. “I’m just teasing. And since we’re apologizing . . . I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable about joining us last night.”

“Oh, no big deal.”

“It was antisocial of me . . . I blame jet lag.”

“Sure. San Francisco is a long trip.”

“Yeah . . .” Scarlett looked into Nate’s dark eyes, and they tricked her into saying something true. “It’s a trip I was hoping you’d make. When I first got there? I’d be in a restaurant or something, and I’d suddenly think, oh, Nate would like this. But . . . I never heard from you.”

“Well…” Nate hesitated. “I did think about it, I swear. But you’ve got to remember how risky it would be for me to leave Oak Haven. As a non-witch, I mean. I could end up with a pretty nasty case of amnesia.”

“Yeah, yeah. The Forgetting Spell, I get it. Way, way too risky.” She forced a laugh, hoping to play the moment off as a joke. “Funny though, how you used to talk about leaving all the time. World’s largest ball of twine, right? Then we grew up and, come to find out . . . you’re an Oak Haven lifer.”

“Well . . .” He shrugged. “You always claimed that you were a lifer, and then you upped and left in the middle of the night.”

“And then I sold my hair to buy you a watch chain, while you sold your watch to buy me a hair clip . . .”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Nate gazed at her with a happy-sad sort of expression. “That sounds about right.”

They stood together, close enough to touch, in a room full of magic. But ten long, silent years crowded in the room with them, and neither had the slightest clue what to say or do about any of it.

“Of course,” Nate said finally, “if I had left, who would manage the care and feeding of the Earls? Who’d keep them in coffee and whittling supplies, if not me?”

“Of course,” Scarlett repeated. “You’re right—I had not considered the Earls.”