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Despite nursing a cup of coffee, I couldn’t seem to get warm after my encounter with the hidden grimoire. I sat at the dining table looking toward the woods beyond the backyard.
Nora placed a hand on top of mine. “You’re upset.”
“No, unsettled.” I reached for a slice of banana bread and took a bite. “The books in the workroom are one thing. That one is something different.”
“Yes, it is, and in the wrong hands, it could be dangerous. But another thing you know about the books, they’re particular about who they allow to read them.”
Dangerous. I turned toward Nora. “Wasn’t the woman who tried to kill me bound by the same rules? Do no harm?”
“She was, and you saw the results.”
I did. That woman had died. “But she wasn’t afraid to try.”
Nora lifted her coffee cup and stared into it. “No, she wasn’t.” She took a sip. “Greed isn’t limited to money.”
“Greed,” I repeated.
“Or envy? That woman wanted what you had.” Nora inclined toward the table. “She saw her gifts as a way to acquire more.”
“More,” I echoed.
“For some, more is never enough.” The tug inside my head indicated Nora was trying to see what I wasn’t saying. “The nightmares. Are they getting any better?”
She’d witnessed my flashback moments earlier. The memories of the fire were a living part of me. Since the day I’d been locked in the workroom, I avoided closing doors wherever possible. “Some.”
“Let’s talk about something more pleasant. What do you say? Tell me about Kyle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him kiss you before. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve seen the two of you so much as hold hands.”
Heat rushed to my face. I wasn’t one for public displays of affection, until recently. “I never felt it necessary to stoke the rumor mill. Everyone in town already knew we were dating.”
“What’s changed?”
I laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s about staking my claim. Everyone else holds hands in public, right? Or exchanges a brief kiss?” Or in Nora and her husband’s case, a not-so-brief kiss. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be as demonstrative as she and her husband were. “It isn’t as if we’re doing something obscene.”
Nora tilted her head back and laughed. “No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
She rose from the table and headed toward the workroom. “You should consider replacing the cupboard in the corner. You’ll never get the smoky smell out of the wood.”
I followed, coming to a stop beside her. “Not on your life. As the only thing that survived the fire intact, the cupboard seems to want to be there.”
Outside the windows, kids ran down the street in Halloween costumes. I reached for a bowl of candy and headed for the door.
“They won’t knock,” Nora said.
“Why not?”
“They’re afraid. Or respectful. No one would dream of calling us witches to our faces. They might not even consciously think of us that way, but deep down...” She tapped a fist against her chest. “Deep down, they don’t want to take the chance.”
I crossed to the kitchen, to the window that faced the street, and watched the kids go door to door—skipping my house. “Well, that doesn’t seem right.”
Kyle drove into his driveway across the street. I checked the clock—three-forty, right on time after his six-to-three shift today. The kids in costumes swarmed him and he laughed, raising his arms over his head. They trailed him to his front door and waited while he reached inside for a bowl of candy and handed them each a piece. When they left, he waved to me and walked over.
“I’m going to stay home for the trick or treaters,” he said, “but I’ll come over in time for dinner.” He squeezed my hand and nodded to Nora. “See you later.”
“I’m going to head to the rez before it gets too dark,” she said. “Now that I know you two are together, I’ll let you enjoy some quiet time.”
“You don’t have to go,” he said.
She held up a hand. “I want to.”
With one more wave, Kyle trotted to his house.
“So what do witches do on Halloween?” I asked as I closed the door. “If the trick or treaters don’t stop by?”
“We’ve never been together on Samhain before, have we?” She reached for a couple of wine glasses on the open shelves. “We celebrate the lives of those who have gone before.” She took a bottle from her tote bag and uncorked it, pouring us each a glass of red. She handed one to me and raised hers in a toast. “To your mother, God rest her soul, and the wonderful man she married.”
I clinked my glass to hers and took a sip.
“To my aunt,” she continued. “Your great-aunt, who taught me all I know.”
“God rest her soul,” I finished.
“And to your grandparents, who did the best they could to understand a legacy they didn’t know enough about.”
We touched glasses once more and took a third sip. I remembered my parents with love, even if a memory was all I had left of them.
Nora set her glass on the counter. “To answer your question more thoroughly, the solstices and the equinoxes are what you might call solar holidays. They aren’t restricted to witches, though. The indigenous people and farmers also celebrate them. The cross-quarter days, of which Samhain—Halloween—is one, fall between the solar holidays. The cross-quarter days are considered earth holidays. Samhain is when death is formally honored, until the winter solstice when hope is born again and the days grow longer. Samhain is also when the veil between life and death is at its thinnest. Those who have gone before are most likely to make themselves known today.”
I shivered. “We’re talking pagan holidays again?”
Nora took my hand in hers. “Brynn, celebrating pagan holidays doesn’t make you not a Christian, or whatever religion you choose to practice. The beliefs are complementary. We celebrate the world we’ve been given, the world we live in. We are interconnected parts, whether you believe in creationism or evolution.”
“What do you believe?” I asked.
Her eyes reflected the waning daylight. “I was raised the same way my sister—your mother—was. I believe the same things she did, and the same things she taught to you. We are on this earth to love and support each other, and with or without special gifts, not everyone has gotten the message. In the end, we’re no different from anyone else. Not really. We all should do our part to protect the earth for future generations and to take care of one another.”
Nora set the bottle of wine in my refrigerator. “And now I should be leaving.”
I hugged her close. “Do you really have to go back to the rez?”
“Do I have to? No. But it’s where I belong.” She whirled into her cape. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” She squeezed my hand one more time and left.
Which left me to manage a potentially difficult dinner conversation with Kyle alone.