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  For the second time in much too short of a period, I found myself wondering what in the world was going on. Faith had been my mother’s first name. But I’d never heard that last name. I certainly hadn’t run across it in any of the legal documents or correspondence I’d come across closing out her house and there had been more of those than I’d expected. Could this all be some sort of strange misunderstanding? Maybe this Miss Serena was expecting someone else and had told Peggy to be on the lookout for her. Except that was too much of a coincidence and I most definitely did not believe in coincidences.

  “Her last name was Sheridan.” I spoke flatly, doing my best to keep the flare of temper in check. If these people condemned her for having a child out of wedlock like those is Maxon’s Mill had, I wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next. I’d kept my mouth shut, at least once I was old enough to understand protesting that my mother was better than anyone else in town wouldn’t help, when others attacked her. But no more and certainly not with people who hadn’t known her.

  Judge Caldwell looked from me to Peggy and back. Then he blew out a breath and shook his head. I waited, my patience growing thinner with each passing second. At least Annie looked as confused as I felt.

  “Dad?” She spoke softly, her blue eyes concerned. “One of you owes Meg an explanation and, to be honest, I’d like one too.”

  For that alone, she earned points in my book.

  “Peggy, are you sure?” Judge Caldwell asked.

  She waved off his question and looked at me. When she did, I fought the urge to move to another chair – hell, another table, one far away, possibly one in the next county, maybe even the next state. In that moment, she reminded me of my first grade Sunday school teacher. Mrs. Hebert could look right into your soul and knew what you were going to do before you did. I hadn’t felt that from anyone since then and I liked it no more now than I had back then.

  “Look at her, Judge. She’s the spitting image of her mama.”

  I closed my eyes and reminded myself I couldn’t do anything foolish. There was the possibility, remote though it might be, that Miss Peggy wasn’t crazy. But why would Mom have changed her name and not said anything about it?

  Damn it, Mom, what the hell is going on?

  “Miss Peggy, Dad, I really do think you’d better explain,” Annie said softly as I pushed away from the table.

  Thank goodness, someone seemed to be thinking clearly because I certainly wasn’t.

  “Janny, call Serena and asked her to join us here as soon as she can. Tell her Faith’s daughter has come home,” Miss Peggy said. Then she turned her attention back to the rest of us. “Bob, you remember Faith, don’t you? She was a year or so behind you at school.”

  For a moment, the judge said nothing. Then he nodded once. Even so, his expression remained skeptical. But, when he looked at me, his skepticism seemed to ease.

  “Faith Luíseach.” A slight smile touched his lips. “Annie, do you have your iPad with you?”

  The redhead seemed as surprised by the request as I was. Instead of questioning it, however, she nodded. A moment later, she pulled a tablet from the briefcase I hadn’t realized rested under the table. After activating the iPad, she handed it to him. We watched as he tapped the screen, opening an app. Then he typed in something. A few moments later, he nodded and handed me the tablet.

  I glanced at the screen and found myself staring at what looked to be a page from an old high school yearbook. For a moment, I didn’t understand why the judge wanted me to see this. Then one picture seemed to jump out at me and my breath caught. It couldn’t be. I’d never seen a picture of my mother before she’d been in her twenties. She always said those photos had been left behind when she left home.

  My eyes tracked down slightly to the name under the photo. Faith Elizabeth Luíseach. I’d never known her middle name. I didn’t know she had changed her last name or why. How much more about my mother didn’t I know?

  Why had she kept all this secret from me?

  “I don’t understand.”

  And that was putting it mildly.

  Before anyone could begin to explain, something shifted inside the café. It was subtle at first, like a change in air pressure. A moment later, the bell over the door jangled once. But it couldn’t have. I’d watched Miss Peggy close and lock that very same door not that long ago. I tore my eyes from the picture of my mother, but no one was there.

  Then I caught sight of someone in the distance, a woman of indeterminate age, moving surely down the sidewalk in the direction of the café. Those still gathered outside the door turned toward her. I didn’t need to hear them to know they greeted her. Then they stepped aside, giving her free access to the door.

  The locked door.

  So why had the bell jingled? The heater hadn’t come on and I sensed nothing else that could have caused it to ring. Was the woman somehow involved or was it something else?

  And did I really want to know?

  My focus narrowed to the door. The knob turned and then the door began to open. The moment it did, the air around me turned electric. It felt alive, as if someone or something was searching ahead, seeking something out and that something was me.

  Instinct kicked in and, without thinking, I acted. I stood quickly enough to send my chair skittering across the linoleum. As I stepped away from the table, I bladed my body, making myself as small of a target as possible. Part of me screamed to run. Whoever – whatever – this woman was, I had never before felt such power. But another part told me I couldn’t run. There were others here, people who might not be able to protect themselves, one of them very pregnant. I had a duty to stay and do whatever I could to keep them safe, no matter what.

  Thanks, Mom, for giving me that sense of duty.

  Once again, time slowed. This time, however, I expected it. I welcomed it because it gave me time to think and act. I took another step away from the table, putting myself between the others and whoever – or whatever – was about to enter the café. I might be without mundane weaponry, but Mom had trained me well in other ways of self-defense and that training had saved me more than once in my thirty years. I hoped it was enough to do so again.

  The air seemed to almost sizzle as I waited. I sought out the threat. My consciousness expanded beyond the door. A light breeze moved around me, teasing the loose strands of hair that had escaped my braid. As if from a distance, I heard Annie gasp. Even so, I sensed no fear from her or the others. Surprise, yes, but no fear. That was yet another difference between Mossy Creek and Maxon’s Mill. Interesting and something I’d have to think about later, after this was over.

  Assuming I lived that long.

  Slowly, the door swung open. I watched as the woman neared. No longer nondescript, she appeared to be in her seventies. She looked like someone’s loving grandmother, the sort who baked chocolate chip cookies and had wonderful tales to help pass away the night. Not that I planned on lowering my guard. I learned long ago that appearances could be deceiving. Besides, the door had opened without anyone touching it. As the bell tinkled again, my right hand fisted at my side. I felt the energies building and focused them. If necessary, these people would soon learn why my mother and I had been feared by most of Maxon’s Mill.

  The woman stepped inside the café. She paused and glanced around. As she did, I swallowed hard. Never had I felt so much power associated with one person. I had no doubt she could wipe the floor with me without so much as batting an eye. Even so, I wouldn’t let her near the others. Whoever or whatever she was, she would not get past me.

  I shifted my feet slightly, tracking as she moved further inside. As I did, I inhaled and steadied myself. If anything happened, it would be soon and I had to be ready. I would be ready.

  The breeze inside the café picked up and the temperature rose. As it did, the woman’s lips curved up in a smile. Then, as she looked at me, I caught my breath. I knew her. But how?

  Before I could ask, she waved her right hand in f
ront of her and the breeze died away and the temperature inside the café returned to normal. All the energy I’d drawn around me in preparation for, well, whatever, flowed away. Knees weak, I looked at her, praying she wasn’t about to hand me my head – figuratively or literally or, more likely, both.

  Instead, she smiled again, affection lighting her expression.

  “Hello, Meg. Welcome home.”

  Chapter 2

  Welcome home?

  What the hell was she talking about?

  “Someone had better start explaining or I’m out of here.” To put action to words, I dug out my wallet and tossed a twenty onto the table. That should more than cover the cost of my pancakes and coffee.

  “Meg, please.”

  Surprisingly, it was Annie who spoke and not one of the others. As I turned to her, she struggled to her feet. Ignoring the others, she stepped around her father-in-law and moved to my side. For the first time, I realized she wore what could only be considered a power suit, albeit it one designed for a very pregnant woman, and heels that made my feet hurt. How in the world could she stand wearing them, much less wearing them when it looked like she could give birth at any moment?

  “Give them the chance to explain.” I must have looked like I was about to bolt because she continued. “I know you have no reason to trust any of us, but I promise these are three of the best people I’ve ever known. I trust them with my life and with the life of my son. Even with the life of this little one.” She smiled and lightly rested a hand on her swollen belly. “If they say they knew your mother, they did.”

  I ran a hand over my face. She asked a lot, especially since I knew her no more than I did those she urged me to trust. Still, Mom’s words echoed in the back of my mind. For whatever reason, she’d wanted me to come here. Two of the first people I’d met claimed to have known her. I saw no way they could have faked the picture in the yearbook, even if it was only a digital representation of a single page. They’d have had to know I was coming and they didn’t. They couldn’t have.

  And yet Miss Peggy had, so maybe I was wrong. What in the world was going on?

  I felt their eyes on me as I moved away from the table. I needed to pace but there wasn’t room in the café to do so. Instead, I walked behind the counter and poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher on the back counter. I wasn’t thirsty, but it gave me something to do while I tried to figure out how to respond.

  When I turned, the others had returned to their seats at the table. Serena Duchamp sat where I had not long ago. She appeared relaxed even though I caught a hint of concern in her eyes. Judge Caldwell glanced at his watch and I wondered if he had stopped in for breakfast with his family before court. When he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to someone, I figured I had my answer. He might not have court, but he had something set that morning and it appeared he was postponing it. Whether that was good or not, I had no idea.

  “Look, I don’t know any of you and I can’t figure out how you know who I am, how you knew my mother or how you knew I’d be coming to town.” I drained my glass and set it on the counter. “I’m tired and hungry and I want some answers. So, let’s start with this. How did you know to look for me?” I leaned against the counter and glanced from Miss Peggy to Miss Serena.

  And when in the world did I start thinking of women older than me a “Miss” anything? Mom hadn’t raised me to address them in such a manner.

  “Meg, it seems there is a great deal we need to discuss.” Miss Serena spoke with a soft drawl. “But I knew you would be coming because your mother contacted me a week before her death. She told me about her illness and why she hadn’t said anything to you about it. She knew you wouldn’t understand, but she didn’t want to be a burden to you. I offered to go to Maxon’s Mill, but she refused. She reminded me she’d never been one to ask for help and she wasn’t going to start now.”

  I swallowed hard as tears once again burned my eyes. That sounded exactly like Mom. Damn her. Why hadn’t she said anything to me? I should have been there with her. I would have been with her. But she hadn’t let me. Why?

  “Meg, your mother asked one thing of me. She said she was leaving you a letter telling you to come see me.” She waited until I nodded before continuing. “She asked me to do whatever I could to help you.”

  I gritted my teeth and fought the urge to curse long and loud. I had a feeling Miss Peggy might hit me up the side of the head with a skillet for being rude and I really did not want to think about what Miss Serena might do, not when I’d already seen how powerful she was. For all I knew, she’d turn me into a toad or something just to make the point that I needed to respect my elders. Since I had no love for toads and didn’t believe in the Frog Prince, I decided not to chance it.

  “That doesn’t explain how she,” I nodded at Miss Peggy, “knew I’d be coming to town.” Much less how she knew it would be now.

  Annie’s chuckle distracted me, and I glanced at her in time to see her blue eyes dancing with amused understanding. Then she once again slowly stood, one hand cupping her swollen belly and the other reaching for her purse and briefcase. As she did, the judge climbed to his feet and angled his chair out of her way.

  “Ladies, I have clients this morning, but my conference room is open if you’d prefer talking there.” Annie nodded to the group of people clustered around the front door and I could have sworn there were more there than there had been a few minutes earlier.

  “And I need to get to court. My bailiff has texted twice now to tell me the defense attorneys are getting restless.” Judge Caldwell smiled at his daughter-in-law, his eyes twinkling in mischief, and I wondered if she might not be one of those defense attorneys. “Meg, after you’ve talked with Miss Serena, you might want to stop by Annie’s office. Her grandfather practiced law here for years and I know for a fact he represented your mother on at least one occasion. Some of the answers you’re looking for might be in the files there.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. Before I could say anything, Annie slipped a business card into my hand and gave me directions to her office. Then, after welcoming me to town and saying she hoped to see me soon, she left the café, the judge following close behind. Even as I considered leaving with them, the door closed and I heard the lock once more sliding into place. When I glanced back at Miss Serena, she smiled and motioned for me to sit down. I blew out a breath and nodded. Best to deal with this now, before anything else happened.

  “Meg, I won’t ask you to trust me.” Miss Serena folded her hands on the tabletop. “I won’t even say I understand how you feel right now because I don’t. I can’t. But I can promise to answer your questions, at least those I know the answers to. However, Annie was right about one thing. This isn’t the best place to do so.”

  The look she gave Miss Peggy spoke volumes. Whatever she had to say to me, she did not want it becoming fodder for the local grapevine. Well, that made two of us.

  “Answer me one thing.” One very important thing. “How did you know my mother?”

  I’m not sure what I expected. It was too much to hope that I’d wake and realize the last few weeks had never happened, that it had all been a bad dream. But that wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t happen. Nothing could erase those terrible weeks, no matter how hard I prayed. All I could do was wait and hope whatever Serena Duchamp said answered at least some of the many questions currently running through my head.

  “As Peggy said, your mother was a couple of years behind Bob Caldwell in school. Her family was one of the most conservative, for lack of a better word, ones in town. When Faith started showing signs of being an Other, they tried to cure her. When that didn’t work, they kicked her out of the house and told her not to come back. They wouldn’t have a witch, or worse, living under their roof. They reminded not only your mother but anyone else who’d listen that they were righteous and God-fearing folk.”

  Miss Peggy snorted and I had no doubt what her opinion of Mom’s family happened to be.
From what little I’d heard, I tended to agree with her.

  “I learned what happened when my daughter, who was in your mother’s class, came home and told me,” Miss Serena continued. “I reached out and offered to let Faith stay with us and I offered to teach her how to use her gifts if she wanted. She stayed with me for four years before leaving Mossy Creek.”

  I slid down the side of the counter to sit on the tile floor. Without realizing what I’d done, I drew my knees up and wrapped my arms around my legs. Then I lowered my head until my forehead rested on my knees. As I did, I remembered the one time I asked Mom about my grandparents. She seemed so sad as she told me they were dead. I’d never asked again because I didn’t want to upset her. I’d been maybe five or six at the time.

  A gentle hand brushed over the top of my head. When I looked up, tears burned my eyes and emotion clogged my throat. How horrible it must have been for Mom to find herself cut off from her family simply because of what she was. The one thing I learned about Mossy Creek in the research I’d done before coming here was that it had been one of the first places in the country where the Others had officially come out. Even before then, most everyone in town knew about them and few seemed to have objected.

  But that hadn’t helped Mom, here or in Maxon’s Mill.

  I swallowed and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. When I looked up a moment later, Miss Serena knelt in front of me. Compassion filled her expression. Then, as if understanding I needed to know more, she gently helped me to my feet and guided me back to the table. Gone were the coffee mugs and my plate. Instead, a single glass of water and a second glass with what looked like a healthy jolt of bourbon in it had replaced them. Miss Serena pressed the bourbon into my hand and then reached for the glass of water. She waited, giving me time to gather my thoughts. The only problem was I wasn’t sure I wanted to gather them, much less ask any of the questions battering around in my head.

  God, Mom, why didn’t you tell me?