Page 71 of Big Witch Energy

“It doesn’t matter that we fall down, it’s about how we get back up,” he said. “Or something like that.”

“It’s time to get back up, Dad,” she told him. “Or at least, prop yourself into a sitting position.”

Her dad nodded. “I’ll get there.”

She stood and kissed his forehead. “That’s all I ask.”

***

Days later, Caroline sat at Ben’s breakfast bar, sipping from her mug. She wasn’t really sure how to feel about any part of it.

It felt weird to be sitting “unchaperoned” in Ben’s kitchen while he slept upstairs. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been left alone in this house, even when they were kids. It felt weird to have her own mug at Ben’s house, but the kids had simply ordered a copy of her I could be reading mug and put it next to her breakfast plate one morning. It still felt weird, sleeping in the same house as his kids, not that she and Ben engaged in “adult activities” with the kids there because that seemed super inappropriate. But still, the kids had greeted her in the mornings, asked if she wanted jelly or cream cheese on her bagel. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, so she was choosing not to, either.

The weird cherry on top of this weird sundae was that…it felt so normal. She’d felt like she was a part of the family unit—not quite a parent, but not “the houseguest that won’t go away,” either.

And at that moment, she wanted to wallow in the normalcy, in having something in her life that mattered, and yet had nothing to do with ghosts or the bar or her family. It was her own, to make or break.

And yet…

She loved these kids. Seeing her father barely climbing out of his very real trauma after all these years was a reminder that the danger the kids faced was very real. And beyond her personal stake—of adoring those kids and fearing for their safety down to her soul—the very idea of Ben facing that sort of loss, the pain of it—it was just intolerable.

The question was, what could she do about it? Could she do anything about it?

The clatter of the side door opening and the clonk of boots in the mudroom caught her attention and made her lips tilt. How was it that teenagers could never get from point A to point B quietly? And how was it that she could so easily determine the sound of Mina’s footsteps from Josh’s?

Well, OK, Josh’s size-twelve foot probably had something to do with it.

“I have secured for you the very last of Iggy’s cherry rugalach,” Mina said, solemnly setting the blue-and-white Starfall Grounds box on the counter in front of Caroline. “I had to fistfight a tourist from Missouri to get it.”

“You did not,” she huffed, opening the box. She paused. “You didn’t, right?”

“You may never know,” Mina snickered.

Caroline laughed and poured a coffee for Mina. “You were out late last night.”

“Your mom asked me to drop by to finish up some inventory in the basement,” Mina said.

When Caroline opened her mouth to protest, Mina added quickly, “Just the section under the stairs. I was only there for an hour or so. And I didn’t see Rose once. I think she’s learned not to mess with me. Which means I win.”

“Or she’s saving her strength to shove you off a cliff,” Caroline muttered.

“I think you should be more worried about the fact that you have cocktail sauce down there,” Mina countered.

“What’s so bad about cocktail sauce?” Caroline asked.

Mina winced. “I asked your mom, and you haven’t served anything with cocktail sauce since the 1980s.”

Caroline grimaced. “Ew.”

“So, yeah, we’re gonna need to call some sort of hazmat team, because I don’t think I’m qualified for moving it or disposing of it,” Mina said.

“No, you are not,” Caroline agreed, shaking her head. “OK, so you were only at the bar for an hour or so. Where were you the rest of the night? And I’m asking not in a supervisory adult way, but as someone who knows that there’s a psycho ghost with a grudge against your coven roaming free on the island.”

“Good point, and um, I snuck down to the beach to hang out with some kids,” Mina said, blushing slightly. “There was a bonfire, the obligatory guitar played by a guy who only knew three chords, some beer—which I didn’t drink because I don’t want my dad to have an actual cardiac event.”

“I’m sure he appreciates that,” Caroline grinned. “Any particular kids?”

Mina began toying with the string that kept the bakery box closed. “Just this one guy, Derek Branner. His dad runs the Starshine ferry line.”

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