Page 61 of Big Witch Energy

“I need to work out more,” Ben huffed, holding up a device in a glittery blue case. “Mina, if you’re going to run out of the house like a bat out of hell, at least take your cell phone.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Mina sniffed as he hugged her. “I’m OK.”

“Ghost stuff?” Ben asked Caroline, his chin balanced on Mina’s head. She nodded. “Can we talk?”

“It’s OK, Meanie,” Josh said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll make you that gross herbal tea you like. The kind that tastes like feet and social ostracism.”

“We’ll get them home,” Alice told Ben. “Can you walk Caroline to her cottage?”

“Sure,” Ben said. “I’ll see you two back at the house. Lock up until I get there.”

The two of them walked into the darkness, the moon lighting their path back to the Wiltons’ property. Ben was oddly quiet, tucking his hand around Caroline’s waist, though it felt like he was trying to carry her along without her realizing it. Which was weird.

Her big old family house loomed high on the hill, but she led him to the cottage, even as his feet wandered toward the porch where he’d kissed her goodnight so many times. He finally spoke when they reached her front door. “Look, are my kids safe?”

She opened her door, making a sweeping gesture to welcome him inside.

“I don’t know if any kid is safe. This isn’t a safe world. But I’ll talk to Riley and Alice to figure out a way to protect both kids from ghosts messing with them in their sleep. Honestly, we should have thought of that before,” she said, raking her hand through her hair as she sat on the couch. He walked over to the fridge to get her a glass of water. Of course, he knew where the glasses were. When they were young, this cottage was where they’d gone when they wanted to do…things, because his parents were light sleepers and eventually figured out how good Caroline was at climbing up his trellis. After her grandmother died, the cottage sat empty, and her parents were not nearly as careful with the keys as they should have been.

“Do you think the house is trying to turn the kids into the new Stewards?” Ben asked.

Caroline’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t considered that, but honestly, she could see why Ben would be concerned. “I don’t know.”

“Should I be worried about that?”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Possibly?”

He flopped onto the couch, next to her. “Am I being insensitive, asking you this?”

“No,” she assured him. “You’re worried for your kids. It’s a good thing. I am also worried for your kids, because I like them, very much.”

“That makes me weirdly happy.” He took her hand, lacing together their fingers. “This is nice, being together at the end of the day, even if that day was punctuated with ghost issues.”

“Most of my days are punctuated with ghost issues,” Caroline said.

“I just mean, I’ve never had this, talking about my kids with someone who really understood them,” Ben told her, pulling her close.

Caroline frowned. “Um, what about their mom?”

“Isabelle… This is going to sound like ‘sour grapes’ ex talk, but I don’t know if Isabelle understands either of the kids. That was…never really her goal? She worried about their futures, their grades, their extracurriculars, the college choices, their career paths. She didn’t worry so much about their happiness,” Ben said.

“Well, that’s…no, it’s a dynamic I’m painfully familiar with. I’m not going to lie,” Caroline said.

“There are reasons we’re not together anymore. That’s just one of them,” Ben said. “I know that nostalgia can do a lot to influence one’s recall, but…nothing has been as easy or comfortable as being with you.”

“I don’t know if relationships are supposed to be easy or comfortable,” Caroline said, studying their joined hands. It was a weird feeling, to know how his hand was going to feel against hers. The long fingers, the long road map lines across his palm, the square, neatly clipped nails and how they would gently scrape against the base of her thumb. How could someone’s hands not change in more than fifteen years?

“Yeah, it probably doesn’t speak well of me to look at it that way,” he said, “but nearly every relationship since you has felt like wearing a pair of shoes that was two sizes two small, on the wrong feet.”

“I’m not sure being a cozy old pair of shoes speaks very well of me,” Caroline replied dryly.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he scoffed, kissing her knuckles. “I mean, it pinches at you. Every step hurts to the point that you dread moving. Just when you get used to the old hurts, new ones pop up.”

“OK, I think I understand the shoe metaphor a little better,” she admitted.

“I think I married Isabelle because it felt like it pinched the least? Which again, sounds like a terrible reason to marry someone, particularly when the person who seemed so easygoing and encouraging turned out to not be who she was, at all,” Ben said.

“Well, I can’t say I was looking for something easy or difficult,” Caroline said. “I think I was just…bored, looking to fill time and not feel so alone. Which I will also admit, is not a great look, in terms of grown-up interactions. But when your life is so defined—knowing that you’re going to live your life in one place, that there are no other options, you stop seeing other big life steps for yourself—relationships, marriage, children,” she said as he buried his face in her hair. “And after you, I wasn’t sure I really wanted any of that long-term stuff. It hurt less, looking for something that also had a finite window. I felt like I was in control of it, when I controlled nothing else.”

---