Never Been Witched (23 page)

Destiny raised her head, her expression puzzled. “So you became one of them? That doesn’t make much sense.”

“I buried my memories in my studies. In a way, I think I brainwashed myself. The happiest day of my mother’s life was the day I was ordained. It was also the first time I’d
ever
pleased her.” Hearing it in his own words, Morgan knew he
had
been running from memories, some of which were resurfacing.

Some, he wasn’t ready to face.

“Why did you leave the priesthood?” Destiny asked him.

“A little girl in my parish asked me if I was happy. Here’s the kicker; her name was Meggie. I sat down that afternoon and tried to define
happy
. However I defined it,
happy
didn’t apply to me. That night, I came here, hung my cassock beneath the stairs, and went to work for King.”

“And that made you happy?”

“Not as unhappy as I’d been as a priest. Happy didn’t seem possible. I’d lost my focus. It’s hard to explain.”

Destiny rubbed his arm. “Maybe you’re psychic like your twin. You
did
have another career waiting in the wings.”

“When I worked toward my architectural degree, I told myself I’d maybe help restore the Vatican someday—lofty goals, hey—but eventually I realized that I’d always been looking for an out. My mother will never stop trying to get me to go back.” He checked his camera. “Where’s Meggie?”

“They’re gone for now. Probably because we were talking. They pop in and out.”

“That doesn’t freak you out?”

“It sure did the first time. The night I arrived. Scared me enough to give
you
a concussion.”

“Right.” He touched his brow to hers. “I can’t believe my sister’s here but she’s not. I want to see her face. Why can’t I see her like you can?”

“You’re not open to it. You have to believe without question. You didn’t believe until she gave you the sign, plus you failed to remember what she believes you should. Maybe if you did believe, and you remembered what she needs you to, she’d show herself to you.”

“Let’s plant her memory garden now. Maybe she’ll chase butterflies here.”

“I wish I’d thought to get butterfly garden plants to attract them,” Destiny said. “Isn’t it late in the year for butterflies?”

“Meggie did a science project on butterflies once, so I happen to know that in warm years, like this one, some species have more generations, so you’ll see them longer. Some butterfly species prefer the cold, some prefer the sea. So next trip into town, let’s get some butterfly garden plants.” Morgan grabbed the tray of crazy-named plants. “Where do you want to plant her garden?”

“Anywhere that won’t interfere with construction equipment when you remodel the place. We want it to be permanent, right? Too bad we don’t know where the cemetery is.”

“Kismet, we went to the cemetery yesterday.”

“No, Horace’s wife is buried
here
. I think that’s why he’s hanging around. I’d like to clean it up, plant mums for the fall, daffodils for the spring, and a holly bush for the Holly King. I mean, we already have oaks for the Oak King.”

Morgan scratched his head. “That’s a witch thing, right?”

“Yep. This is a nice spot. Far enough from the house to be safe, and we can still see it from there. It needs weeding. We should have brought a spade.”

Morgan took his work gloves from the tray. “I brought one.” He got on his knees, pulled weeds and turned the earth.

When Destiny dug a hole for a plant, she hit something. “A headstone. Oh, and it’s broken.” She dusted it off. “Morgan, it’s Ida and her baby. They died the same day. Poor Horace. No wonder he wants to be here. He never told me about the baby.”

Morgan rubbed the perspiration from his brow and rested his hands on his knees. “Do you know how much it would cost to have a body exhumed and reburied?”

Destiny tilted her head his way, her eyes shining. “Are you the one being psychic now? I never said that’s what I wanted.”

“You implied it clearly enough. Except that I don’t quite believe in Horace.”

“This stone doesn’t prove his existence?”

“The way you see the future? No.”

“Oh, so you believe in my psychic ability, now, but not in your sister or Horace?”

“I’ll always believe in Meggie. Not so sure about—”

“You’re a doubting Thomas, Morgan, from one end of the spectrum to the other. You have to believe in something.”

“I walked out on the only belief system I ever knew, and, pluck it, I’m having a bit of trouble finding a new one. Get off my back.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

DESTINY didn’t like this peek at the old Morgan. She wanted the new fun-loving, belief-filled Morgan back, but he seemed as lost as her. More lost. He didn’t even have a family to fall back on. “You have your dad to believe in. You have King and Aiden’s friendship, and mine.”

“Not quite the same as having a purpose,” Morgan said, “but thanks.”

“You’ll find your purpose. You’ve made great strides this week. You had sex
and
you believe in psychics.”

“Extraordinary strides,” he said. “I can’t wait to tell my mother.”

“Hah! You got a death wish, Boy Scout? But seriously, you do believe I’m psychic, don’t you?”

“I guess I do. There’s no other explanation for the canvas ladybug prediction, the design for my lighthouse, and the painting of Buffy dated the day Meggie died.”

“Damn you. You only believe because you’ve seen proof? It’s always proof with you.”

“I’m sorry. Forget the proof. I do have to believe in something, and it may as well be you. You’re the most tangible, fascinating, and entertaining lunatic I ever took to bed.”

“My cup runneth over with gratitude. Such compliments. And only yesterday you were a grumblestiltskin.”

He pulled her cowboy hat down over her eyes. “C’mon, Kismet. Let’s plant Meggie’s garden to the left, closer to the lighthouse, and leave Ida’s resting place alone. When we’re done, there’ll be flowers for all of them.”

They worked silently together as they planted Meggie’s flowers around the angel statue, the lighthouse statue, and the garden stone with Destiny engraved on it. When they finished planting, they outlined the tiny garden with beach rocks and shells.

Together they sat back on their heels to admire their work, the bees buzzing, the air sweet.

Morgan nodded. “Ask Horace where he’s buried—there’s a sentence you don’t hear often enough—so we can move his body. Do you think lunacy is catching?”

“Morgan Jarvis, you’re hiding a heart.” Destiny bit her lip. “I think I might be crushing on you.”

“In that case, you’re heading for a fall. Crush is the right word. Hit your head on me, and you’ll crack it open. I’m made of stone. You don’t crush on a man because he’s going to spend a fortune to move the body of the hundred-year-old stranger haunting his home. Besides, what’s the big deal?”

“You’re acting on faith.”

“Faith in you. Not in general; believe me.” Morgan’s denial brought out the grumblestiltskin in him. “All these years,” he said, almost to himself, “I thought I
was
acting on faith, but I was trying to make up to my mother for failing her. Did you ever feel as if you’d lost your center? Like you were wandering aimlessly?”

“Yes!” Destiny’s heart skipped a beat. She touched his arm. “
That’s
why I’m searching for my psychic goal. Without it,
I’m
wandering aimlessly. You and I both need something to ground us,” she said, figuring it out as she spoke. “Want to buddy up and be there for each other until we find our paths?”

Morgan tilted his head thoughtfully. “Friends who are lovers? Sounds risky to me.”

“Don’t look now, but we’re already there. Call it safety in numbers?”

“I guess we are.” Morgan looked out beyond the sea. “Two against the world? You and me, babe? That kind of thing?”

He was mocking her. Her frustration came out in a sigh. “You know what I mean. For
emotional
support.”

“Oh, Kismet, that’s the most dangerous kind.” Morgan pulled off a work glove, dropped it in the dirt, and cupped her cheek, as if she might be made of porcelain, but a fire raged in the depths of his tiger eyes. “The longer you look at me like that,” he said, melting her to her core, “the more I want to take you to bed.”

She covered his hand as their lips touched.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered, combing a hand through his burnished hair. She could love this man. Maybe she already did. She knew only that she’d never wanted a lover so badly that she trembled with need and longing for him, and for more.

In this man, she recognized the possibility of a soul mate.

A soul mate. What an amazing thought. Frightening. Grumblestiltskin and Kismet Witch?

No way. She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t admit it. Didn’t dare. Not to herself. Not to him. Lightning did not strike thrice.

She shivered. Pulled away. Wanted to run but stood her ground.

Morgan took her hand, brought her to her feet, slipped an arm around her waist, and led her to the house. When he shut the front door, he pinned her against it in one move.

He cupped her waist, his thumb beneath her shirt.

Destiny squeaked and stopped him. “Morgan, wait. They’re back. Meggie’s smiling at us, but give me a minute before we go any further.”

Morgan nodded silently and stepped away from her, so she could spell them gently away.

 

Destiny went limp and fell into Morgan’s embrace. “Your heart is racing as fast as mine,” she said.

“That was scary,” he said. “I love her so much. She won’t be hurt by what she saw, or by us sending her away?”

“She’ll be fine. She knows we love her, and she knows that we care about each other. Buffy and Horace helped and enveloped her in their love.”

“We seem to have lost our momentum,” he said.

“Let’s heat some water in those big old copper kettles and fill that gorgeous old claw-foot tub.”

“That’ll take time, but”—Morgan raised a brow—“I brought a deck of cards. Care for a game of strip poker while we’re waiting for—dare I say it—the pots to boil?”

“And you thought you were gonna play solitaire, in more ways than one.”

He handled the stove’s firebox while she filled a copper kettle at the big old copper sink. “Morgan, this boiler says it holds thirteen gallons. Is it too heavy for you to carry to the bathroom?”

He hefted a full boiler and approved its weight, so she filled them all. Three copper boilers nestled on the six-burner stove, while Morgan dealt the cards. “We’ll have water before we get down to our underwear.”

Destiny winked to raise his blood pressure. “If we’re wearing any.”

Fifteen minutes later she laid down her second winning hand, a full house.

“You’re a cardsharp, Kismet.” Morgan stood to take off his jeans.

“You could have taken off a sock. In a hurry, Boy Scout? You have great taste in boxers, by the way. Black. Yum. And so nicely filled at this moment.”

“I came preboiled. If you don’t know how to lose, just be a sport and take off that Any Witch Way T-shirt.”

She pulled it off over her head, and he nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know I’d gone braless?”

“I was preoccupied.”

“Sad man. You haven’t felt up enough women. You need practice.”

“Come, sit on my lap. I’ll practice.”

By the time the water boiled, they boiled, too.

Morgan started filling up the tub, and the doorbell rang.

“Slam it,” he said, as he looked daggers at the door.

Disappointment filled Destiny. She looked down at the claw-foot tub promising an afternoon of hot sex.

“Let’s pretend that nobody’s home,” Morgan suggested.

But Destiny suddenly remembered what day it was.

Morgan’s day, and Meggie’s, too.

Wonderful. She’d spelled Meggie away for a day and a night.

She began to chant, despite Morgan’s frown:

 

“What are you doing?” Morgan snapped.

Destiny sighed. “Answering the door.”

“Don’t. No, wait,” he said grabbing his pants. “Is Meggie back?”

“Don’t you wish you knew the answer without having heard my spell?”

Chapter Thirty-eight

“HAPPY Birthday, Morgan,” Reggie and Jake shouted as Destiny opened the door and then stepped aside.

Reggie came in carrying a birthday cake that must have had all thirty-one candles on it. Jake followed but stopped short. “Who’s this?”

He circled Meggie, or Meggie circled him, hard to tell which.

Destiny gave Morgan an I-told-you-so elbow. Further proof Meggie was here. “She’s Morgan’s sister, Jake. Her name is Meggie, but she’s like the lady you saw in the elevator at the castle a few months ago. Remember? Meggie’s a ghost.”

“Cool. But I can tell that she’s not a mad ghost like that lady.” Jake shrugged at Meggie. “Hi, Meggie. Do you wanna play?”

Reggie squeaked, but Destiny quieted her with a head-shake.