Jessica
To show gratitude to the Mother Goddess for all her bounty, place sacrifices of wine upon her altar. Or simply drink it in her name.
Goody Fletcher, Book of Useful Household Tips
It took the EMTs a while to get into the tent, because of the crowd and the road closures.
But when they finally got a chance to examine Derrick’s brother, they found his pulse and blood pressure completely normal. He begged them to take him to the hospital anyway, and hold him overnight for “observation.”
I guess I can’t really blame him. I wouldn’t want to hang around, defenseless, against a whole bunch of powerful witches who hated me, either.
It was as they were trundling him away on the gurney that we turned around and saw the mayor walking up to our table, her wife in tow.
“Good evening,” the mayor said. “That was certainly an interesting performance piece.”
“It wasn’t a perf—” Esther started to say, but Rosalie jumped in before she could finish.
“Oh, Madam Mayor, I can’t apologize enough,” she gushed. “I was assured the tents would be wind- and waterproof.”
“That’s quite all right.” The mayor shrugged sympathetically. “These things happen, especially in New England in the fall. We can’t control the weather.”
None of us said anything—especially those of us who knew better.
“I don’t think it’s too late to try to salvage the evening, though.” She looked up at the dripping tent ceiling. “Well, what’s left of it, anyway. The sky is clear now, and there are still quite a few people left, including the caterers.”
It was true. The servers had begun putting out the first course—a somewhat soggy lobster bisque. Cold, hungry partygoers were drying off their chairs with their napkins with good-hearted cheer, and sitting down.
“And look,” said the mayor, pointing to the stage.
The orchestra was back, apparently no longer fearing either damage to their instruments or electrocution, and had resumed Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto Number Four.
“Aw, see, honey,” Billy said, beaming down at his wife. “Things haven’t turned out so badly, after all.”
I have no idea what Billy had seen—or did not see, or told himself not to see—in the hour before. But whatever it was, the whisky seemed to have caused him to decide it was all right. He was back to being the happy-go-lucky Billy he’d been ever since he’d married Rosalie.
Was that because of the spell Dina and I had cast upon the couple, so many years earlier? Or simply because he loved her, witch or not?
Whatever the reason, Rosalie seemed relieved. She swayed against him, and he put an arm around her to support her.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, you’re right. I guess things are turning out all right, after all.”
“I’ve often found,” the mayor said, “that nothing bonds people more closely together than a little adversity.”
Was that smile that she gave as she said it a secret one, meant for Derrick and me? Or had it been meant generally, for all of us?
Because we hadn’t stopped holding hands since Esther had narrowly saved West Harbor and all its residents from the apocalyptic deluge.
Not that she seemed to be aware of it. She’d turned back to the serving of bisque she was sharing with Gabby, who’d finally managed to find her, and was astonishing Esther and Lizzie with tales of the adventures she’d had while volunteering as a Harvest Princess.
“And then,” she told them, “these people from Ohio asked me if we catch our own lobsters. Just go out to the pier and catch our own lobsters. With fishing poles. I almost died.”
Esther laughed gently. She seemed as unfazed as Billy by her brush with the supernatural. That was probably, I was sure she’d say, because she was a Scorpio.
“Oh, Esther.” The mayor reached into the inside pocket of the red velvet tuxedo I’d designed for her, then pulled out an envelope. “I almost forgot, this is for you. I wish I’d gotten it to you earlier, but . . . well, you have it now.”
Esther looked surprised as she took it. “Another letter? Should I open it? Here?”
“I think so,” Mrs. Dunleavy said encouragingly, looking radiant in the gown I’d sold her. “I know what it says. I think you’re going to like it.”
Curious, Esther opened the envelope, then pulled out and unfolded a stiff piece of paper.
“What’s it say?” Billy Junior asked.
“It’s a proclamation,” Esther said. She had a funny look on her face, one I didn’t recognize. That’s when I realized it was emotion. Esther didn’t “do” emotions, except the teen basics: sarcasm, amusement, and an occasional combination of both.
But she looked genuinely touched by whatever the mayor had written.
“A proclamation of what, Ess?” Gabby asked.
“Declaring my witch ancestor pardoned of all charges against her.” Esther smiled up at the mayor, her eyes shining. “Thank you. This means a lot.”
“It’s not official, of course,” the mayor said apologetically. “Mayors can’t officially pardon people—especially people who lived over four hundred years ago, and records of whose trial no longer exist. But like I said, I’m happy to help you through that process.”
“You have an ancestor who was accused of witchcraft?” Rosalie asked, sounding stunned.
“Yes.” Esther folded the proclamation and put it in her backpack—which of course she’d kept close to her all evening. “On my mother’s side. Elizabeth Fletcher. She wasn’t executed, though, just banished.”
I felt a delicious shiver down my spine. Maybe it was because Derrick was touching me. Or maybe it was something else.
“Us, too!” Lizzie cried, delighted. “Hey, Mom, isn’t Elizabeth Fletcher the name of our great-great-whatever-grandmother who was banished for witchcraft?”
Rosalie’s lips went very small as she looked at Esther. “Yes. Yes, that’s her.”
“Hey!” Lizzie laughed. “I wonder if we’re related!”
Esther grinned. “That’d be cool.”
It was clear from the way Rosalie was struggling to smile that she did not yet consider this cool—but she was trying to get there.
“Did you know about this?” I asked Derrick, under my voice.
“That the witch who wrote your book left it behind after moving to New York, then wrote Rosalie’s? I’ll admit, I suspected. The handwriting is similar.”
“Didn’t everyone back then write the same way? Besides, the ink is so faded, it’s almost impossible to read the thing.”
“Almost,” he said with a knowing smile, “but not quite. You certainly managed.”
I shook my head, amazed that a witch who had lived so long ago could have had such an impact on not only my own life, but the lives of so many others—and had even managed to create a happy ending for herself, as well.
“Look!” Billy cried, pointing. “People are starting to dance. Isn’t that nice, Rosalie?”
I looked. I saw dozens of people—including people I knew, like Dina and Mark, and Yasmin and Sal, and even Becca and Zahrah and Naomi and their partners—had finally made it to the village square. All of them were dancing. Dina noticed that I’d caught sight of her, and smiled and lifted a hand to wave. I smiled and waved back, my heart filled with a sudden gladness. So many people I loved were here, right here, under these sodden tents. This had truly turned into a celebration—thanks to Goody Fletcher, Esther, and the other witches.
Rosalie, however, barely glanced up, she was so devastated at discovering her daughter wasn’t only not the Bringer of Light, but not the only witch descendant of her great-great-grandmother. “Yeah. That’s great.”
I had something else that was going to make Rosalie mad—if she ever found out about it, that is. I would have to do everything I could not to let that happen, of course.
“Hey, Esther,” I said to her as she and Gabby got up to dance.
“Yeah?”
“I think I have something of yours,” I said. “Something that belonged to Elizabeth Fletcher. Or Goody Fletcher, as she was called back then.”
Esther’s gaze sharpened with interest. “Oh, yeah? What?”
“You’ll see,” I said. “I’ll bring it by for you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, but what is it?”
“A book.”
Esther rolled her eyes. “A book? After everything I just did, you think I still have things to learn?”
“Oh, you do,” Derrick said, severely. “And you’d better listen to her.”
Her gaze sharpened even more as she looked at him. “What about you? Are you sticking around?”
I couldn’t help stealing a questioning look at him as well, my heart, which had felt so full before, suddenly seeming to stand still.
“Oh,” he said. “West Harbor won’t be getting rid of me as easily as it got rid of my brother.”
And with that, he tightened his grip on my hand and dragged me toward my friends.
Relief flooded through me. Relief that he was staying. Relief that I wouldn’t have to beg him not to go. Relief that I wouldn’t have to put up a brave front when he did go, and pretend I didn’t care, and that I’d be fine without him.
I would be fine without him.
But my days wouldn’t be as sweet. Like dinner without dessert. Like candy without chocolate. Like life without magic.
Only when I saw that we were headed toward the dance floor did I dig in my heels.
“No,” I cried, putting on the brakes. “I do not dance.”
“You do now,” he said, and pulled me playfully forward.
And then—I don’t know how—something in me loosened, and I was in his arms, dancing, my long dark hair swaying around my shoulders, which were suddenly bare, because I was in a slim-strapped, satin-topped, tulle-skirted evening gown of midnight black in a style I don’t even sell in my shop. Someone had magically transposed it upon me. It couldn’t have been Lizzie casting a glamour, though I saw her bright face laughing joyously as Derrick spun me around the room.
Could it have been Gaia?
I didn’t care. I didn’t care because I was the Chosen One.
Chosen by him.