Dance Upon the Air (23 page)

When the last
of the book club members were out the door, Mia flipped the locks. Nell was already clearing plates and napkins while Lulu closed the register.

“That was fun!” Stoneware rang gaily as Nell stacked coffee cups. “And so interesting. I've never discussed a book that way. Whenever I read one, I just think, well, I liked it or I didn't, but I never talked about why. And I promise to read next month's selection so I'll have something to contribute.”

“I'll see to the dishes, Nell. You must be tired.”

“I'm not.” Nell lifted a loaded tray. “There was so much energy in here tonight. I feel like I just lapped it up.”

“Isn't Zack waiting for you?”

“Oh, not tonight. I told him I was going to crash the party.”

Lulu waited until Nell was upstairs. “What's wrong?” she asked Mia.

“I'm not entirely sure.” To keep her hands busy, Mia began folding the chairs. “That's what concerns me most. Something's coming, and I can't pin it down. It's all right for tonight.” She glanced up the stairs as she carted chairs to the storeroom. “She's all right for tonight.”

“She's the center.” Lulu stored her own haul of chairs. “I guess I felt that all along, and didn't cut her much of a break. But the fact is, that's a sweet girl who works hard. Does somebody want to hurt her?”

“Someone already has, and I don't intend to let him do it again. I'll try a foretelling, but I need to prepare for it. I need to clear my mind. There's time. I can't tell how much, but it'll have to be enough.”

“Will you tell her?”

“Not just yet. She'll have her own preparations, her own cleansing to do. She's in love, and that makes her strong. She'll need to be.”

“What makes you strong, Mia?”

“Purpose. Love never worked for me.”

“I heard he's in New York.”

Mia shrugged, a deliberate gesture. She knew who Lulu meant, and it irritated her to have Sam Logan tossed at her twice in one night. “It's a big city,” she said flatly. “He'll have plenty of company. I want to finish and go home. I need sleep.”

“Idiot man,” Lulu muttered under her breath. There were too many idiot men in the world, to her way of thinking. And most of them ended up bumping up against stubborn women.

Spells were,
Nell decided, really just a kind of recipe. And there she was on solid ground. A recipe required time, care, and quality ingredients in proper proportions for success. Add a bit of imagination and it became a personal dish.

She set aside time between jobs and book work to study the spell book Mia had lent her. She imagined Mia would be amused by the idea of viewing it as a kind of metaphysical cookbook, but she didn't think she would be offended.

Time also had to be carved out for meditation, visualization, for gathering and creating her own tools so that she'd have what she liked to consider a well-supplied witch's pantry.

But now she intended to reward herself with her first solo practice session.

“Love spells, banishing spells, protection spells,” she chanted as she flipped through. “Binding spells, money spells, healing spells.”

Something for everybody, she thought, and remembered Mia's warning about being careful what she wished for. A careless or selfish wish could boomerang in unpleasant, or certainly unexpected, ways.

She would keep it simple, choosing something that involved no one and couldn't inadvertently cause harm or trouble.

She used her broom first, sweeping the negative energy away, then she set it by the kitchen door to prevent any reentry. With Diego ribboning between her legs, she chose her candles, inscribed them with the appropriate symbols. Deciding that she could use all the help she could get, she selected crystals to bolster the energy. She arranged them, and the pot of frost-burned geraniums she'd taken from Zack's front porch.

Expelled a breath, drew in fresh.

She referred back to the healing spell Mia had written out on parchment in India ink and, closing her eyes, adjusted the words in her mind to suit her purpose.

“Here goes,” she whispered.

“This damaged bloom I seek to heal, from its withered petals fresh beauty reveal. Um . . . its blooming time was too soon done, its color brings pleasure to all and harm to no one. Set the flower within it free. As I will, so mote it be.”

She bit her lip, waited. The geranium sat stubbornly
wilted in its pot. Nell bent over, looking close for some little sign of green.

She straightened again. “Shoot. I guess I'm not ready to solo.”

But maybe she should try again. She needed to visualize, to
see
the plant lush and full and blooming. She needed to smell leaves and petals, channel her energy. Or was it the plant's energy? In any case, giving up after one try made her a pretty wimpy witch.

She closed her eyes again, started to process, then yelped at the brisk knock on her back door. She spun around so quickly, she booted Diego halfway across the little room, which caused him to plop down and begin to wash himself as if that was what he'd intended all along.

Chuckling, Nell opened the door to Ripley.

“I was cruising by, saw the candlelight. Are you having power trouble?” Even as she asked, she looked past Nell and saw the ritual candles on the table. “Oh.”

“Practicing, and from the results, I need a lot more. Come on in.”

“I don't want to interrupt.” Since the night of the book club meeting she'd made a point to stop by, or at least cruise by, every evening. “Isn't that the dead plant from our front porch?”

“It's not dead yet, but it's close. I asked Zack if I could try to bring it back.”

“Working spells on dead geraniums? Man, you slay me.”

“I figured if I made any mistakes, it couldn't hurt anything. Do you want some tea? I brewed some just a while ago.”

“Well, maybe. Zack said to let you know he'd be
by when he finished up. We had a D and D—drunk and disorderly,” she explained. “Underage minor. He's just about sicked up all of the six-pack he swiped from his parents' refrigerator. Zack's walking him home.”

“Anyone I know?”

“The Stubens boy, the oldest. His girlfriend dumped him yesterday, so he decided to cry in his daddy's beer. Since the result was him getting sick as three dogs, I think he'll look for another way to ease his broken heart next time out. What's that smell?”

“I've got a pork loin roasting. You're welcome to stay for dinner.”

“I'd just as soon not sit here and watch you two make googly eyes at each other. But I wouldn't mind you sending a doggie bag home with Zack.”

“Happy to.” She handed Ripley a cup of tea. “But we don't make googly eyes at each other.”

“Do so.”

Nell got a plate of tiny appetizers out of the fridge.

“Man, do you guys eat like this every night?” Ripley asked.

“I practice on Zack.”

“Lucky bastard.” Ripley helped herself to a little wedge of bruschetta. “Anything he doesn't go for, you can send on to me. I'll let you know if it's any good.”

“That's generous of you. Try a stuffed mushroom. Zack won't touch them.”

“Doesn't know what he's missing,” Ripley announced after one bite. “The catering deal's moving along pretty well, huh?”

“It is.” But Nell dreamed of a convection oven and a Sub-Zero refrigerator. Impossible and impractical in
her cozy cottage kitchen, she reminded herself. And, for the moment, out of Sisters Catering's financial grasp. “I'm doing sandwiches and cake for a christening on Saturday.”

“The new Burmingham baby.”

“Right. And Lulu's sister and family from Baltimore are coming in next week. Lulu wants to wow them. There's some sibling rivalry there.” Nell jerked a thumb toward the oven. “I'm making this pork loin, so I wanted to try it out first.”

“That's going some for Lu. She squeezes a penny until Lincoln weeps.”

“We worked out a deal, a barter. She's knitting me a couple of sweaters. I can use them with winter coming.”

“We've got a warm spell coming. We'll snag a bit of Indian summer before it hits.”

“I hope you're right.”

“SoPamela. . .” Ripley bent down, picked up Diego. “How's Mia doing?”

“She's fine. She seems a little distracted lately.” Nell lifted her eyebrows. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I guess she's busy making plans for Halloween. She really gets into it.”

“We're going to decorate the store the week of the first. I'm warned that every kid on the island hits Café Book for trick or treat.”

“Who can resist candy from the witch? I'd better go.” She gave Diego a quick scratch as she set him down. “Zack'll be along any minute. I can take that pot out of your way if you . . .” She trailed off as she glanced over.

A glory of crimson petals covered healthy green stalks. “Well, well, son of a bitch.”

“I did it! It worked. Oh! Oh!” In one leap Nell was at the table, her nose buried in blooms. “I can't believe it. I mean, I wanted to believe it, but I didn't really think I could manage it. Not by myself. Isn't it lovely?”

“Yeah, it's okay.”

She knew what it was like, the rush of power, that bright thrill. The pleasures, both small and huge. Ripley felt an echo of it now as Nell lifted the pot high and circled.

“It's not all flowers and moonbeams, Nell.”

“What happened?” Nell lowered the pot, cradled it like a baby. “What happened to make you resent what you have?”

“I don't resent it. I just don't want it.”

“I've been powerless. This is better.”

“What's better isn't being able to make flowers bloom. It's being able to take care of yourself. You didn't need a spell book to figure out how to do that.”

“One doesn't have to be exclusive of the other.”

“Maybe not. But life's a hell of a lot easier when they are.” She walked to the door, opened it. “Don't leave your candles unattended.”

By the time
Zack arrived, Nell had the table cleared and set. The kitchen was fragrant with her roast and the aftermath of her candles.

She liked hearing him come to the kitchen door, those long strides. The way he stopped and wiped his
feet on the mat. The rush of brisk air he let in when he opened the door. And the easy smile he gave her as he kept on walking until his mouth covered hers.

“Later than I expected.”

“It's all right. Ripley stopped by and told me you would be.”

“Then I guess I don't need these.” He took the bouquet of carnations from behind his back.

“No, but I do.” She gathered them up. “Thanks. I thought we'd try this Australian wine I read about, if you want to open it.”

“Fine.” He turned to shrug out of his jacket and hang it on the kitchen peg. His gaze hit the pot of geraniums she'd set on the side counter. It gave him a little jolt, but after the briefest hesitation, he went on and pegged his jacket. “I don't guess you did that with fertilizer.”

“No.” She linked her fingers together around the carnation stems. “I didn't. Does it bother you?”

“Not bother. But talking about it, even knowing about it's different than seeing it.” At home in her kitchen, he pulled open a drawer for a corkscrew. “In any case, you don't have to smooth out every ripple with me.”

“I love you, Zack.”

He stood, the corkscrew in one hand, the bottle of wine in the other. And suddenly couldn't move. Emotions overwhelmed him.

“It's been hard waiting for you to say that to me.”

“I couldn't say it before.”

“Why now?”

“Because you brought me carnations. Because I don't have to smooth out every ripple with you.
Because when I hear you coming up to my door everything inside me lifts and sighs. And because love is the most vital magic. I want to give mine to you.”