Epilogue

Opal Gaynor’s memorial service was attended by hundreds of Havenwood citizens. All of the LeFayes were there, as was Loralyn Gaynor. Verena had exerted her formidable influence on her husband and he’d come through for her again. He’d pulled a dozen strings to ensure that Loralyn had the chance to say farewell to her mother.

Ella Mae expected the townsfolk to treat Loralyn with suspicion or disdain. She was a convicted criminal, and the restoration of Lake Havenwood Resort would take months to complete. However, the editor of the town paper had clearly been swayed into believing Loralyn’s claims that she’d been Meg’s unwitting pawn. Following a series of articles—written by the editor himself—in which Loralyn exposed the darker side of the Camellia Club by revealing how the teenage girls were pressured into having plastic surgery and how the mothers kept an updated list of the region’s most eligible bachelors, Loralyn had become a tragic heroine. She was the woman who’d been forced into committing terrible crimes in order to save her mother—a woman caught up in the greatest women’s club scandal in American history. Unlike Ella Mae, the general public didn’t know that Loralyn had set fire to the resort and had tried to shoot Ella Mae with a shotgun.

Bombarded by print and television reports of Loralyn’s story, most people sympathized with her plight. The governor received thousands of letters from across the state protesting her incarceration. And thanks to a social media campaign run by the staff of her nail salon, her celebrity status continued to grow. She’d become so popular that the Havenwood Police had had to hire extra security for Opal’s service. When Loralyn alighted from the sheriff’s cruiser outside the church, a crowd of well-wishers instantly surrounded her. They tried to press cards or bouquets of flowers into her hands or snapped photos of her with their cell phones.

The press was there too. In force. They shouted at Loralyn and begged her for sound bytes, but she only responded with a demure smile.

Unable to witness another second of the spectacle, Ella Mae took Aunt Verena’s elbow and entered the church.

“I need to know if Loralyn shot Ruiping or if she was telling Hardy the truth when she said that Meg was responsible for all the killing,” Ella Mae whispered as the two women made their way up the center aisle to one of the polished pews. “I need to know because it will forever change how I see her. How I treat her. I offered her my friendship, and I won’t go back on my word, but can I truly be her friend if she’s a killer?”

Verena settled into a pew. It creaked in protest and she rearranged her black-and-white floral dress around her knees. “I don’t know. Can you?” she asked Ella Mae. “If not for our brave firemen, Officer Hutchins could have died. Loralyn left him in her hotel room without a backward glance. His life meant nothing to her. She used her voice to enchant him. She took his own handcuffs and secured him to the bed. Then, she gagged him and started multiple fires. The poor man probably lost consciousness believing he was going to die in that room. And what explanation do you think he gave his superiors as to how he ended up in such a compromising position? I doubt he remembers a thing after knocking on Loralyn’s door.” Verena reached for her hymnal. “My point is that Loralyn is a killer. I don’t know if she shot Ruiping, but she left that officer to be burned in a fire that she started.” Putting a hand over her chest, Verena said, “She’s a murderer in here.”

Ella Mae nodded. Her aunt’s thought echoed her own, but she wanted to believe that Loralyn could change—that Opal’s sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing. She wanted to believe that the love Opal had shown her daughter had thawed the ice in Loralyn’s heart. Following her sentencing hearing, she’d been the picture of humility and remorse. Ella Mae could only hope that it wasn’t all an act.

Ella Mae glanced toward the altar, where a large portrait of Opal was surrounded by enormous arrangements of white roses, hydrangeas, gladiolas, and most of all, chrysanthemums. Ella Mae didn’t see the Opal she’d come to know in the glamorous, haughty-looking woman captured in the portrait. The Opal she’d grown close to had become strongest in heart and spirit when her body was at its weakest. In admitting her faults and seeking her daughter’s forgiveness, she’d become the loving mother Loralyn had yearned for. And despite her frailty, her thinness, and the sallow hue of her skin, she’d been incredibly beautiful on the last day of her life. Her eyes had been filled with fire and she’d spoken in a voice of calm wisdom, as though she already had a foothold in the next world and was only lingering in this one until her final task was complete.

Ella Mae’s eyes moved to the circular stained glass window above the choir. She studied the troupe of angels smiling benevolently down upon the robed singers and thought of the monster Opal had to become in order to drag a ruthless killer to the bottom of the lake. It had taken a monster to destroy a monster. Magic had saved them.

Opening her hand, Ella Mae touched the spot on her palm where her clover-shaped burn scar had once been. She thought of all the times she’d cursed magic and had wanted nothing more to do with it.

This was not one of them.

At that moment, Hugh entered the church. Ella Mae could feel his presence before she actually saw him. She turned just as he was scanning the crowd, searching for her, and when their gazes met and the corners of his mouth twitched and his bright blue eyes sparked at the sight of her, she forgot about her missing scar.

A minute later, he slid into the pew and took her hand. “Opal would have been thrilled by all the attention Loralyn’s getting,” he whispered. “Especially from the trustees of Gaynor Farms. And she’d have loved to learn that the Camellia Club will never hold another meeting. The scholarship money will be distributed, but Atalanta House will soon belong to the State.” He watched Loralyn shake hands with two elegant men in dark suits. “She’s made serious mistakes, Ella Mae. She’s done terrible things. But it’s good that she could come today. Everyone should have the chance to say good-bye to the people they love.” Hugh nodded deferentially at Verena. “I imagine you had something to do with this.”

Verena shrugged and turned the pages of her hymnal. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hugh smiled at her. “Sure you don’t.”

“I’m not the one recovering from a concussion.” Verena tapped her temple. “You’re probably as scrambled as a pan of eggs up here.”

Hugh groaned. “Not you too. For the past two weeks, I’ve gotten so much grief from the volunteer crew. They keep putting this Halloween skull in my locker or in the truck. The skull’s head is wrapped with bandages made of girls’ socks, and the socks change every day. They started out pretty tame. Pink with purple kittens, rainbow unicorns—that kind of thing. But they’ve evolved. Now it’s thigh-high tights with racy patterns and fishnet stockings.”

“You should give those to Reba,” Verena said. “Fernando is heading back this way next week, and I bet she’d love to add those fishnets to her lingerie drawer before he gets here.”

Ella Mae held out her hands. “Please. We’re in church. I do not want to think about Reba’s underwear drawer at the moment.”

Suppressing a laugh, Verena turned to greet a friend in the next pew.

“Have you had a chance to talk to her yet?” Hugh asked, indicating Loralyn with a slight jerk of the chin.

“Honestly, I haven’t tried,” Ella Mae said. “This has too much of a circus atmosphere for a memorial service if you ask me. Between the organ music, the chitchat, the crush of people surrounding Loralyn, and the media presence in the back row, this isn’t quite the intimate ceremony I had in mind.”

Hugh nodded. “That’s because Loralyn’s celebratory status keeps growing. If only the masses knew the truth.”

“If they did, dozens of people in this building would be exposed,” Ella Mae said, and Hugh knew that she was referring to all the magical people sitting among them. “At least Loralyn is still involved with Gaynor Farms, which was Opal’s most fervent wish. If Loralyn can behave herself while she’s doing her time and also maintain her current status with the community, she may serve a shorter sentence than the one she was given. Someday, the future of a very valuable and influential company will be in her hands.”

“When that day comes, I hope that will be enough for her,” Hugh said. “I hope she won’t set out on another quest like the one that brought Margaret Woodward to Havenwood.”

Ella Mae shook her head. “It won’t be enough. Loralyn is a woman with intense desires, Hugh. She may even feel them more deeply than the average human. Over the last year, those desires have caused Loralyn to side with Nimue, a woman who almost destroyed Havenwood. After that came Margaret Woodward. It was through Nimue that Loralyn first learned of the golden apples, and it makes me nervous to think what other knowledge Nimue may have shared with Loralyn.” Ella Mae was silent for a moment before she continued. “Do you know what Loralyn needs?”

When Hugh shook his head, Ella Mae went on. “To fall in love. She hasn’t experienced enough love. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be headed back to prison after burying her mother.”

“Maybe.” Hugh sounded unconvinced. “Then again, she was born a siren. Maybe her only hope of finding real love is a life without magic.”

Ella Mae considered this while watching Loralyn make her way to her seat. As she moved under a stained glass window portraying Moses parting the Red Sea, a sunbeam highlighted the glass, coloring Loralyn’s face and pale hair the dark blue of deep ocean water. Her pale blue eyes turned dark and fathomless, and in that moment, she looked every bit the siren.

“I see your point,” Ella Mae whispered as the organ music ceased and a hush fell over the sanctuary. “But there’s no grove in prison. Her powers will wane to almost nothing. She’ll be as close to a human as she can ever be upon her release. She stands a chance of having a genuine relationship then. Not one based on manipulation and enchantment.”

“Yeah, but who’s going to convince her to do that?” Hugh asked.

Ella Mae squeezed his hand. “We are. Despite what she’s done to us and what she’s done to others, we’re going to be her friends. Opal died hoping Loralyn might come around. I have to carry on that hope. Will you help me?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Hugh promised.

As she joined the rest of the congregation in bowing her head for the opening prayer, Ella Mae detected the faint perfume of chrysanthemums filling the air. She smiled and whispered a soft farewell to her friend.

*   *   *

August already felt spent by the time the full moon arrived. To Ella Mae, it was the largest, most beautiful, and most terrifying moon she’d ever seen.

“Many Native American tribes call this the Sturgeon Moon,” Hugh had said when he’d met Ella Mae outside her front door. He’d pointed at the sky. “Apparently, it’s easy to catch that particular fish this month. We should test the theory before September comes. Take a drive to the Great Lakes. What do you think?”

“How can you be so calm?” Ella Mae had demanded, hating the tremble in her voice.

Hugh had responded by taking both of her hands in his. “Because I know that rose is going to light up like a torch. Like fireworks. It’s going to light up the way I do whenever I think of you.”

“So why I am so scared? I’m the one who wanted to trust in us—to march forward the way most people do—without knowing for certain what our future holds. But here I am, shivering like a wet cat, because we’re about to shake a real Magic 8 Ball, and the only answer I want that enchanted rose to reveal is, ‘It is decidedly so.’” Ella Mae had clung to Hugh until she’d grown calm.

“I’m certain, so don’t worry about the magic bush,” Hugh had said. “And if the petals are printed with the words ‘Reply hazy, try again,’ I can always set fire to the damned thing.”

Ella Mae had laughed then, and the tension bubbling up inside her had spilled out and dissipated like water soaking into parched earth. Hugh had held her and laughed with her until Ella Mae had pulled away and expelled a long, slow breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Hand in hand, Ella Mae now led Hugh to the entrance of her mother’s garden. Partridge Hill had been Ella Mae’s home. She’d grown up here. She’d spent endless summer afternoons meandering its winding paths, following the flights of hummingbirds and dragonflies, and picking flowers to turn into crowns and necklaces. But the garden had never been hers. It had always been her mother’s domain. Even before Ella Mae had become aware of the existence of magic, she knew there was something unique about her mother’s connection to the plants she tended in her gardens and greenhouse.

Tonight, the garden was more enchanting than ever. It was as though the plants were putting on a special display for Adelaide and her daughter. Touched by moonlight, the dewdrops on every leaf took on a diamond sparkle, the spiderwebs glinted like spun silver, and every flower, regardless of what color it had been during the daytime, had turned a shimmering, iridescent white. The closer Ella Mae and Hugh got to the Luna rosebush, the more the flowers pulsed and glowed until it looked like the entire garden had been strung with fallen stars.

Ella Mae’s mother was waiting for them near a stone bench engraved with cherubim. She wore a swan-white robe with a deep hood and a belt of silver leaves, and when she pushed the hood back to reveal her face and hair, Ella Mae could hardly believe she was staring at her mother. This tall, slender woman with the silver hair and the ageless face was as cold and distant as the moonlight.

Adelaide raised her arms to the night, silently beckoning to the sky, and a cluster of stars seemed to detach from the center of the Cassiopeia constellation. Ella Mae recognized the shape from the rare nights when her mother would take her to the end of the dock and point out patterns in the indigo canvas that was the August sky.

“There’s Cygnus, the swan,” she’d whisper. Using Ella Mae’s small finger, Adelaide would draw invisible lines in the celestial map above them. “Can you see how those stars form the wings? And there’s Lyra, the harp. I can almost hear it strumming. Can you?”

Ella Mae would strain to hear the high, haunting notes, but she never could.

“This one’s my favorite. Queen Cassiopeia.” Adelaide would direct Ella Mae’s hand, tracing the W shape of the stars. “In Greek mythology, Cassiopeia boasted that she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, so Poseidon punished her by tying her to a chair and placing her in the sky for all eternity. History remembers her for her vanity, but there’s usually more to a person’s story than one element. Especially when it comes to women.”

“What’s the rest of her story?” Ella Mae had asked.

Adelaide had smiled. “The constellation is known by other names in other languages, but that gathering of stars has always been a woman. She has always been a ruler. She’s always been powerful. However, she was only punished in the Greek tale. In the other versions, which are far older than the Greek one, she was magical. She was a mother of gods. She carried a half-moon scepter and no one would ever dare tie her to a chair.”

“I like that story better.”

“Of course you do,” Adelaide had said. “Remember this when you’re older. Don’t let anyone else write your story. Not any man. Nor any woman. Write your own.”

As Ella Mae watched the lights approach the Luna rosebush, she thought of how unbelievable her story would have sounded to her younger self. If she could go back in time to when she was married and living in Manhattan, what would she tell that naïve version of herself? Would she say that her husband was an adulterer? Would she try to explain that the entire world was populated by a small group of people with magical abilities? Would she tell her that all those books on Arthurian legend she’d read by Mary Stewart, T. H. White, Marion Zimmer Bradley, and Tennyson were based on reality? Would she hint at the existence of objects of power? Enchanted swords, flowers, fruit, and so on?

No, Ella Mae thought, glancing over at Hugh. I wouldn’t change a thing. Because if I changed something, I might not be standing here. And I’ve been waiting for this moment since a boy named Hugh climbed to the top of a tree to retrieve my kite.

The stars grew closer and separated, revealing themselves as fireflies. Slowly, almost lazily, the radiant insects descended upon the rosebush, covering it completely. Adelaide held her palms over the glowing, throbbing mass, and whispered something to them.

“It is done,” she declared softly. She made a gentle shooing motion and the fireflies rose into the air and dispersed. What they left behind was a single rose. It shone with their incandescent light, turning every petal into a half-moon against a backdrop of dark leaves. The rose hummed and a shiver of silver light ran across its surface, like a whisper of wind over water.

Adelaide looked at Ella Mae and nodded. It was time.

Ella Mae, who hadn’t let go of Hugh’s hand since they’d entered the garden, now turned to him. He smiled down at her, but she saw the fear in his eyes. She felt the same fear, but she returned his smile and reached for his other hand.

“No matter what happens next,” she whispered to him, “I love you. I have loved you since I knew what it means to love. Nothing can ever change that. Nothing has ever changed that. Not time. Not distance. Not finding magic or losing magic.”

Hugh’s grip on her hands tightened. “We could just walk away. You were right. We don’t have to use this rose to know for sure. We can be like everyone else.”

Extracting her right hand, she placed it on his cheek. “We will never be like everyone else. And if we don’t belong together, then nothing in this world makes sense. Come on, we’ll pretend we’re kids again. We’ll close our eyes and count to three.”

“And then we’ll go.”

Ella Mae closed her eyes and whispered, “One.”

She felt a stirring in the air.

“Two,” Hugh whispered.

The movement got closer. It was so subtle that Ella Mae thought she was imagining it, but the strands of her hair shifted and she could feel featherlight touches on her shoulders, her arms, and the crown of her head.

“Three,” she said in a confident voice, for suddenly, she knew what the tickling sensation was.

She opened her eyes and saw butterflies.

Hundreds of butterflies.

They perched on her and Hugh. They hovered in the moonlight. They fluttered around the Luna Rose—a rainbow of patterned, striped, and spotted wings. Ella Mae’s totem creatures. At least that’s what they’d been when she was magical.

Is Suzy right? And Opal? Do I still have magic left in me? Ella Mae wondered. Somewhere deep inside?

As though in answer, the place on her palm where a clover-shaped burn scar had once marked her skin began to tingle. It was a strange pins-and-needles feeling, but Ella Mae didn’t have time to dwell on it because Hugh was reaching out, with her other hand wrapped in his, for the Luna Rose.

She didn’t try to stop him. Her body felt electric. Her heart beat in time with the pulsing of the single flower, and she was sure that if she pressed her ear to Hugh’s chest, his heart’s rhythm would match her own.

And then, her fingertips made contact with the rose’s petals. The silken, moonlit petals. The butterflies landed on the rose too. They danced over its surface with quivering wings, and their movement coaxed fresh ripples of white light to flow from the center of the flower to its outer edges. Hugh’s hand was also on the rose and it still glowed. It had not winked out like a snuffed candle.

“You are meant to be,” Adelaide said with a delighted smile. “No power in this world can sever your bond. Your love will be a beacon. Let it guide you in all things. It will grow stronger through the years, shining through the darkness like the light of this flower. Because you will face difficulties as all couples do, you should carry the memory of this night within your hearts like a lantern. Reach for it during times of trouble. The memory will remind you that what you have found in each other is greater than any form of magic. You have found true love. Respect this gift and live a long and happy life together.”

Adelaide whispered a few more words and the rose folded inward. The light slowly seeped away, like water draining from a sink, until it was completely gone.

The butterflies left too, melting into the shadows of the nearby bushes as though they were never there.

“Congratulations,” Adelaide said, coming forward to kiss Ella Mae and Hugh. “Go now. Go celebrate.”

“Thank you.” Ella Mae hugged her mother tightly and then watched her walk away.

When they were alone, Hugh looked at Ella Mae. “I know it’s late, but are you up for a short boat ride?”

Ella Mae smiled up at him. “Hugh Dylan, I’d go anywhere with you.”

*   *   *

Hugh led her to the end of the dock, where a motorized life raft was tied to the dock cleats.

“Doesn’t this belong to the fire station?” Ella Mae asked.

“Sure does,” Hugh replied. “I just borrowed it for the evening.”

He took Ella Mae’s hand as she boarded the wobbly vessel. Hugh hopped into the raft, untied the lines, and brought the motor to life. They were soon zipping over the lake and the wind noise made speech impossible.

Ella Mae didn’t care. She was content to sit next to Hugh, her hair whipping around her face like a whiskey-colored tornado, while he kept one hand on the wheel and the other on the throttle.

She was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, as though the light from the Luna Rose still glowed within her. But it was more than that. The sensation she’d felt when the butterflies had touched her was still there. Something was stirring within her. Awakening. The feeling was subtle, but it was lovely all the same. It felt like stumbling across a patch of sunshine after a long rain. There was a champagne bubble anticipation to it. Ella Mae didn’t know if it was her magic returning or the feeling of pure happiness, but she decided to simply enjoy the sensation without questioning it too deeply.

Hugh approached a dock on the opposite side of the lake from Partridge Hill. It wasn’t difficult to spot, seeing as someone had lined its entire length with battery-powered lanterns. The dock stretched out into the dark water like a runway, beckoning them to land.

“Who lit these?” Ella Mae asked after Hugh had cut the motor.

“Me.” Hugh flashed her a smile. “Come on, I have something to show you.”

He helped her step from the boat onto the dock and then led her to a pair of teal Adirondack chairs positioned at the end of the dock. A fishing pole leaned against the back of each chair and a table tucked between the chairs held a picnic basket and a tackle box.

“Are we fishing for sturgeon tonight?” Ella Mae teased.

Hugh shrugged. “It’s good luck to catch a fish during a full moon. Besides, I really wanted to show you the view from here.”

Ella Mae swept her arm around the dock. “But—”

Hugh stopped her words with a kiss. “I told you that I believed in us,” he whispered into her ear a minute later. “I believed that rose would light up like the summer sun. I believed that we’d be standing here tonight and that I’d have the chance to give you this.”

Reaching into the picnic basket, he pulled out a folder.

Ella Mae looked at the glossy cover and, for just a moment, felt a twinge of disappointment. She hadn’t been expecting anything, so she had no reason to be disappointed, but she couldn’t see how the contents of the folder would complement what had so far been the most romantic night of her life.

Hugh quickly proved her wrong.

“Open it,” he said.

Complying, she discovered a packet of legal documents. She shot Hugh a questioning glance, but he merely grinned and whispered, “Read.”

It only took a few lines for Ella Mae to understand. Clutching the folder to her chest, she gazed up the hill to a patch of empty land. “You bought it?”

Hugh nodded and his smile grew wider. “It’s ours, Ella Mae. We’re going to build that dream house. We’re going to have the life we talked about.”

Ella Mae threw her arms around Hugh. He spun her in circles on the dock as she alternated between laughing and kissing him, the glimmer of lantern light blurring as tears of joy pooled in her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you,” he whispered back.

Hugh slowed his spinning until their movement was more like a dance. Ella Mae put her head on his shoulder and the two of them swayed back and forth while the boards creaked under their feet and the stars winked over their heads.

In the distance, Ella Mae heard a gentle splash.

Hugh must have caught the sound too, for he gestured at the chairs and said, “Are you ready to reel in that good luck fish now?”

“As long as that doesn’t require my baiting a hook with a worm,” Ella Mae said. “I’m not squeamish. It’s just that using live bait doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of our evening. The fireflies. The butterflies. I don’t know . . .”

“Don’t worry,” Hugh assured her. “I have a special spinnerbait for you in the tackle box. It’s pink, yellow, and purple. But be careful, there’s a hook hiding under its colorful skirt.”

Ella Mae took a seat in the chair closest to the edge of the dock and opened the tackle box. She saw dozens of different lures, but only one with the colors Hugh had described. Picking it up by its metal head, she dropped the spinnerbait into her palm. Something glinted from within the strands of the silicone skirt, and Ella Mae gently parted the strands, expecting to reveal a sharp hook.

Instead, she found a diamond ring. A beautiful platinum ring with white round-cut diamonds encircling a yellow diamond. It looked contemporary and yet felt very, very old.

Ella Mae gasped in surprise and her fingers began trembling so violently that she nearly dropped it, but Hugh was already kneeling in front of her. He put his palm under her hand to steady her.

“You don’t have to keep this ring. I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow if you want, but I promised your mother that I’d offer you this one first. You see, your dad gave it to her when he proposed. This ring has been passed down for generations. The setting has been changed, but the stone is really old. Your mom wore it until her wedding day. After that, she put it away for you. When I asked her for her blessing, she took it out and asked me to give it to you. That is, if you’ll agree to be my wife. Will you, Ella Mae? Will you marry me?”

Ella Mae could feel the tears shining in her eyes. “Yes. A million times over. Yes!”

When Hugh slid the ring on her finger, Ella Mae felt something like the butterflies’ touch. It only lasted for a second, and this time, it was a strong, masculine presence. It belonged to a man with an earthy smell. Ella Mae’s father. A man she’d never known.

And then, the presence was gone. However, the ring created a circle of warmth around her finger, and Ella Mae believed that both of her parents were with her in spirit because she wore it. Feeling that her heart might burst if she experienced another dose of happiness, she told Hugh that no ring could ever suit her better.

At the end of the lantern-lit dock, Ella Mae and Hugh celebrated their engagement. Hugh pulled a bottle of sparkling wine out of the picnic basket, and the couple drank from plastic cups as they spoke in low, joyful tones about the future.

Their voices floated out over the moonlit lake.

Tonight, the dark water did not make Ella Mae think of Beatrice Burbank. Nor did it remind her of Ruiping, Meg, or even Opal.

On this night, Ella Mae did not dwell on what had been lost. She was completely focused on what had been found. And that was a chance at happily ever after. Not the storybook kind—Ella Mae knew there was no such thing as a perfect union—but the kind where two people finish each other’s sentences. When they dance without music. When laughter is contagious. When fights are resolved before the covers are turned down at night. When wrinkles don’t diminish, but enhance beauty. When eternity will still not be enough time together.

Ella Mae had found that in Hugh. She’d found it as a little girl whose kite had gotten caught on a high branch. She’d found her happily ever after that day but was too young to recognize it for what it was. And after she’d become an adult, it had taken her years to find her way back to Havenwood. And to Hugh.

“You found me,” she whispered to him now.

“Yes.” Hugh bent over and kissed her ring finger. “And I’ll never let you go.”

They sat there for a long time, holding hands and listening to the lake whisper. Keeping its secrets close.