“Oh, my girls. How wonderful to see you.”
We take turns kissing her cheek and then take our seats.
“How are you feeling, Mama?” Brielle asks.
“Oh, just fine,” Mama replies and reaches out to pat Brielle’s hand. “I’m doing just fine.”
“You look great,” I say. “I heard a rumor that they might spring you out of here soon.”
Mama’s smile fades. “Yes, so they’ve said.”
“Doesn’t that make you happy?” Brielle asks.
“I feel conflicted,” Mama admits. “I know I can’t stay here forever. And, honestly, it’s not the most comfortable of places. It’s not awful,” she rushes to assure us. “But it is a hospital.”
“Exactly,” Millie says, nodding.
“But, girls, where will I go? I don’t have a home anymore.”
“We have some thoughts on that,” Brielle says and holds Mama’s hand. “We would like to build you a little cottage near Miss Sophia’s house.”
Mama’s eyes widen. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking,” I reply. “Miss Sophia has plenty of property, and she offered a little piece of it to us to build the cottage. You’ll be near her. Near the coven.”
Mama brushes a tear off her cheek. “I don’t deserve any of this. After the way I behaved, and how you girls were treated—”
“That wasn’t you,” Millie reminds her. “That wasn’t your fault, and we know it. It’ll take a little time to build the house, but you’re welcome to stay with Miss Sophia until it’s finished.”
“I don’t want to put her out.”
“She insisted,” I reply. “It’ll only be for a few months.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you very much. I love you three more than I can ever tell you. I’m just gutted by what I’ve remembered. It’s only bits and pieces, but even that much absolutely horrifies me. I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.”
“We love you, too,” Brielle says, and I know what she’s thinking.
None of us ever thought we’d be here, telling our mother that we love her.
* * *
“I already have some furnishings picked out for Mama’s new place,” I inform the girls as we carry pizza into my apartment. “Things set aside for her.”
“Good, because we’ll leave the bulk of the décor up to you,” Brielle says. “You have such an eye for it.”
I grin and think of the gorgeous yellow velvet sofa I chose for her. With the right pillows and accent pieces, it’ll be perfect.
“First thing’s first,” Millie says as she bites into a slice of the pepperoni pizza. “I have a few protection spells to cast, and I brought you some fresh crystals for all four corners.”
I eat my dinner and grin as Millie flits around, casting spells and setting crystals. She even steps outside for a minute. When she reopens my door, I see blood on it.
“Uh, Mill, you don’t need to bleed for me.”
“Just a little.” She winks, takes another bite of pizza, and then wanders back to my bedroom.
“Do you ever have the urge to join the coven?” I ask Brielle.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t mean that to sound harsh. I know that I have magic in me. And I don’t hate it. I’m also grateful that all of the witches have pitched in to help without batting an eye and helped us defeat Ho—him—twice. They’re great people, and I consider them friends.
“But I just don’t have any interest in the magical side of things, you know? I’m not afraid of it. It’s just not my thing.”
“I understand.” I chew my pizza thoughtfully. “I’ve thought about going back to it.”
A few years after Millie joined her coven, I dabbled a bit in magic. It’s how I met Jackson. I enjoyed it. I’m not a particularly powerful witch, but I like the community aspect of it.
“You should,” Brielle says.
“Should what?” Millie asks, and I relay our conversation. “You’re always welcome. You know that. Both of you. You are witches. Whether you join a coven or not is completely up to you.”
“I know,” Brielle says with a smile. “And I appreciate it.”
“I’ll keep thinking about it,” I add. “Now, are you all done casting my protective bubble?”
“Yeah. It’s a strong spell and should keep you perfectly safe while you’re here or at your shop. He can’t get through it. Can’t terrorize you here.”
Can you do the same about our father?
But I don’t voice it aloud.
Brielle’s eyes narrow as she glances at my window.
“What?”
She tips her head to the side. “Have you always had a little girl who looks in your window?”
“Oh, that?” I wave my hand in dismissal. “Yeah. I don’t see her, but I walked barefoot across my balcony one day after I first moved in here, and I felt her. She used to live here.”
“We can help her move on,” Millie offers.
“No,” Brielle says, shaking her head. “She looks over things. Keeps an eye out. Don’t send her away.”