Page 37 of Big Witch Energy

Caroline shrugged and continued, “It sounds like there was a nurse working for my family back when we ran the bar as an inn. Back then, a nurse could mean a nanny or even someone who tended to an older family member. Mrs. Lettston calls this nurse an old maid, kind of vindictively, to be honest. And she implies in not-so-subtle backhanded language that this nurse wanted the innkeeper for herself. She was ‘wilted’ by time, bitterness, and lack of manly attentions, and thought she could take my great-great-great-however-many-great ancestor’s place for herself. Or maybe she succeeded, and the evil nurse is my great-great-great-however-many-great ancestor. I don’t know yet because Mrs. Lettston literally tracked every daily movement on the island, and she left about ten years’ worth of journals to get through. But man, I hope not, because that could mean I’m related to a murderer.”

“So you think maybe that’s where The Wilted Rose got its name?” Ben asked. “Like a warning?”

“Could be,” Caroline said. “Could be that I’m seeing the vision from this Rose’s perspective, meaning she was punished by the angry wife. Or I’m seeing the fall from the doomed wife’s perspective and Rose got her way.”

“Sure,” Riley said. “Or maybe it’s entirely unrelated and we’re dealing with a ghost that has nothing to do with your family. Or maybe, you just hit your head really hard because you were run over by a moped—sorry, Ben—and the vision doesn’t mean anything. It’s unprocessed angst over the historical fiction you were reading last.”

“But maybe, just maybe, this ghost chose to reveal herself to me because she has something to do with my family,” Caroline insisted. “Maybe if we help her, or hell, banish her, if necessary, I can break the curse or spell or whatever. And me or any member of my family could leave the island for a day without worrying about being run down by an ice cream truck.”

“I don’t want to be a downer, but that’s a pretty large intuitive leap,” Edison said.

“I’m aware. But if there’s even a remote chance,” Caroline said, waggling her head.

Ben’s jaw dropped. “Oh, Caroline.”

Caroline’s brows rose. “Yeah?”

All the blood seemed to drain out of Ben’s face. He was cold, everywhere. He’d doubted her. He’d never thought of Caroline as “crazy,” per se. But he’d thought she’d used the “curse” or bad luck or whatever as an excuse not to leave her demanding family, like it took away her agency, kept her from having to claim her choices. He’d blamed her for his having to make a life without her. And yet she’d only been responsible, sensible even, to stay on the island when leaving meant certain death.

“We’re just going to go…” Riley said, gently leading Edison out of the atrium.

Plover stayed by the fountain, glaring at Ben. “I don’t know what you did, but I can tell you, sir, that I doubt very much that you deserve the affections of Miss Caroline—”

“Plover!” Riley called from the next room. Plover mimed pointing at his own eyes and then pointing at Ben.

Ben wrapped his arms around Caroline. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t believe you. But you were telling the truth the whole time, weren’t you?”

She shrugged. “Well, I don’t have magical confirmation, but—”

“But if magic and ghosts are real, why not curses?” he said. She nodded. “I’m sorry that I took all that time away from us.”

“You needed that time away,” Caroline said. “You needed to make your life, fulfill your purpose. And I needed to stay here and let Riley find me so I could fulfill mine.”

“You’re a witch,” Ben marveled. “I mean, Gina Mursky used to say that about you in high school all the time, but to see it for myself.”

“It takes some getting used to,” she admitted. “But I’m still the same me.”

“Still have superstrong hands,” he noted. “And a really great ass.”

“Don’t you forget it.” She laid her head on his shoulder as he laughed. “You know, it’s sort of funny… In Plover’s flower language, ferns represent magic. Secrets. Maybe your ancestors knew all about what was happening in Shaddow House, when they named your place?”

“Let’s just tackle one huge magical family mystery at a time, OK?” Ben said.

Chapter 8

Caroline

Caroline hadn’t meant to end up at the bar. Really. And she couldn’t even do much but sit on a stool and help her mom sort through the financials for the month—a task made even harder by the big red number sitting where their profits should have been.

And yet, here she was, picking food and liquor receipts out of customer receipts because Will and Wally could never be bothered to save those separately. The customer receipts stack was a lot shorter than the provisioning stack, and that was a scary prospect. Shutting down the bar was going to hurt, even with the emergency fund and Riley’s help.

And Caroline wasn’t sleeping. The vision she’d had after the accident, that poor woman being shoved from the cliff—she kept seeing it in her sleep, night after night, sending her screaming into consciousness every few hours. Despite the stress of it all, financial juggling was still more welcome in her headspace than her thoughts of Ben.

Every spare moment she replayed their kisses in her mind, reliving every moment. He’d rejected her. In her head, she understood that it was most likely due to her debilitating injuries and the intrusion of a Peeping Tom ghost, but in the darker moments, when she was alone with her thoughts, she wondered—was it because she was older? She knew she didn’t have the dewy youth of her teenage years, but she wasn’t exactly a troll. Or maybe it was just typical post-divorce wobbles? She didn’t think Ben was still hung up on his ex. He rarely mentioned her…but maybe that meant that he was hung up on her.

Argh.

Caroline didn’t know how to process this. She’d never taken rejection like this personally. She was used to doing the rejecting. And if she was rejected, it was by someone she didn’t care about, so it barely stung. But from Ben? It stung, it burned, it cut.

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