Page 59 of Bewicched

“What?” I didn’t know that.

She kept her gaze trained on Sam while she answered me. “You were three, I believe. Bridget had become engaged. She’d brought Michael to meet the family. The reception was cordial, if a bit chilly. I thought he was charming and so very handsome.”

Sam hung on my mother’s every word.

“You’d been playing outside with the other children. Abigail had been watching to make sure no one tumbled over the cliff and into the ocean. You all came in while the champagne was being poured. You walked straight over to where Bridget and Michael were sitting. You took both their hands and your eyelids fluttered. A moment later, tears ran down your face and you said—so seriously for a three-year-old—I’ll miss you. Then you laid a tiny hand on Michael’s cheek, shook your head, and said,Ouch. You turned to Bridget, squeezing her hand in both of yours, and said,Wolf-girl live. Big and strong.” Mom glanced at me. “You were only three and having trouble finding the right words.”

Mom continued, “You said,She lost and sad. Alone. Ouch, ouch. Then big happy.”

Sam turned to Clive, a wistful smile on her teary face, before returning her attention to Mom.

“Bridget and Michael looked so confused, but Arwyn wasn’t done. She said,I miss you, Auntie Bridget. I like your baby.She queen and men bow. Then my girl moved to my side, looked down at her hands, and asked for mittens.

“Bridget assured everyone she wasn’t pregnant, but the family kept eyeing her the rest of the afternoon, looking for clues.” Mom wiped her face again. “I always knew my daughter would be a Cassandra. Now the rest of the family knew too.”

“You never told me that story.” How had no one ever told me?

Mom looked down into her lap, at Sam’s hand in her own. “I think we all wanted to pretend it was fanciful baby talk. To accept your vision meant my sister and her fiancée would die soon, but not before they conceived and gave birth to a daughter, a wicche-wolf who would someday be queen, who men would bow to.

“We discussed it in small groups and hushed tones. We had planned for Bridget to take a seat on the Corey Council when your great-grandmother passed, but we understood after your vision that would never happen. Then the talks began as to whether one of you two should take a place on the Council. Some felt that since neither of you were pure wicche, that disqualified you. Others—the clearer thinkers—realized that more powerful wicches meant more strength overseeing the family.

‘But”—Sam cleared her throat—“but that means my parents knew the danger of their path. If they’d split up, they might still be alive.”

“True, but then you wouldn’t be here.”

When Sam sniffed, Clive handed her a clean handkerchief and kissed the side of her head.

“Besides, if Arwyn told you you’d have a much better chance of surviving if you dumped your husband—”

“She’s already been warned,” Dave muttered.

“—would you leave him?” Mom finished.

Sam smiled, wiping her eyes and nose. “Never.”

“And there you go,” Mom said.

“Oh, sorry.” I needed a moment to regroup when I realized something was bothering me but couldn’t figure out what it was. I’d play hostess until I’d solved it or shaken it off. I went to the kitchen and brought back a plate of baked goods. “What would everyone like to drink?”

Mom cleared her throat. “Tea, darling.”

“I’ll have a beer, if you’ve got one,” Dave said.

Declan nodded, seconding Dave’s order.

I looked between Sam and the vampire.

“Um.” Sam swiped at her nose again. “Do you have a soda?”

“Just orange or grape,” I offered, waiting for the inevitableno thanks.

Her eyes lit up. “Grape, please!”

The vampire shook his head. “Nothing for me, thank you.”

Declan followed me to the kitchen area. “I can help.” His gaze, though, was trained on Sam, the long-lost Quinn.

“Perfect. Here, take these.” I pushed the beers and the soda into his arms. “I’ll brew another pot for Mom and me.”

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