Page 20 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

The gravel crunches softly beneath our feet as we move along the weathered path skirting East Lily House. “Watch your step,” I whisper against her ear, making her shiver. “There’s a loose stone just ahead, and the neighbor is protective of her flowers. I’d hate to incur her wrath by you falling into them in her yard.”

Bella nods, her green hair catching the early morning light. “Thanks. I’d hate to faceplant into Mrs. Whatsherface’s prized petunias.”

I chuckle, though I quickly stifle it. “Mrs. Thornberry,” I correct her, “And believe me, she’d have our hides if we so much as breathed on her flowers.”

We pause as a shadow passes behind a lace-curtained window. My heart rate accelerates, and Bellas stiffen beside me. We press ourselves against the cool siding of the house, hardly daring to breathe.

After what feels like an eternity, the shadow moves away.

“That was close,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “Maybe we should come back later?”

I shake my head, my resolve strengthening. “No, we need to do this now. I can feel my magic weakening. Just keep low and quiet. The last thing we need is to explain to the Thornberrys or the new tenants why we’re creeping around like a couple of burglars.”

Bella nods, determination replacing the fleeting fear in her eyes. “Lead on then,” she says, gesturing forward with a graceful sweep of her hand.

“This way,” I whisper, leading her through a gap in the fence.

The back garden is almost unrecognizable. When I lived here, I kept it meticulously maintained—herbs in neat rows, flowers blooming in carefully planned patterns, and the grass trimmed to perfection. Now, nature has reclaimed its territory. Weeds push up through cracked steppingstones. Vines snake across the ground and climb the fence posts. The rosebushes I planted have grown wild and thorny, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers.

Hecate trots ahead of us, her tiny paws leaving delicate prints in the morning dew. She stops, sniffs at a particularly overgrown patch of what used to be my herb garden, and wrinkles her nose. “This place looks like it gave up,” she says, shaking her head so her ears flap dramatically.

“It did.”

Bella says nothing, but I catch her watching me, her expression unreadable. Does she see this abandoned garden as a metaphor for how I abandoned her? The thought makes my stomach twist.

The wishing well stands in the center of the garden—the one feature that remains relatively unchanged. Stone walls rise from the ground in a perfect circle, topped with a wooden roof nowgreen with moss. Ivy climbs its sides, but the structure itself seems solid enough.

I approach it slowly, memories washing over me. How many times had I stood here, tossing coins into its depths and making wishes? Most of them were about Bella, if I’m honest with myself. “I’m surprised it’s still here.” I run my fingers along the moss-covered stones. “I thought the new owners might have filled it in, especially with small kids.”

“It would be cruel to let them play back here,” says Hecate, barely visible over an overgrown clump of grass. “They probably figure it’s safe enough.”

“True.” I scoop her up, ignoring her growl of protest, and deposit her on Bella’s shoulder. “Better?”

She frowns at me in a doggy way, but says, “Yeah. It’s still rude to pick up a familiar without asking.”

“My apologies, my lady,” I say while trying to suppress a grin before Bella speaking distracts me.

“It’s protected,” Bella says, coming to stand beside me. “All the original wishing wells in Evershift Haven are. Town ordinance.”

I nod. “Makes sense. Real wishing wells with real magic are so rare. Mind if I take a closer look?” I ask her, already leaning forward to peer into the well’s depths.

“Be careful,” she says with a hint of amusement in her voice. “I’d hate to have to fish you out.”

The well’s circular opening frames a perfect mirror of sky, broken only by the rough stone edges. As my vision adjusts to the shadows, I notice the water level is higher than I remember, probably from the recent spring rains that have left the air thick with the scent of damp earth and new growth. “It’s fuller than usual,” I say, my breath creating ripples on the water’s surface.

Bella hums in agreement. “Nature’s been generous lately.”

I’m about to pull back when something catches my eye—a glint of metal beneath the surface, reflecting the morning sunlight in a golden wink. “Hey, Bella,” I say, excitement creeping into my voice. “I think there’s something down there.”

She leans in beside me, her warmth a stark contrast to the well’s cool, damp air. “What do you see?”

“I’m not sure.” I squint to get a better look. “Whatever it is, it’s shiny.”

“Probably just coins. People still make wishes.”

“No, it’s bigger than a coin.” I roll up my sleeve and reach down into the cold water. My fingers brush against something solid, with a chain. I grasp it and pull it up, dripping water from my arm as I straighten.

A silver necklace dangles from my fingers, water droplets clinging to its delicate chain. The pendant is a small, four-leaf clover, intricately crafted with tiny fae etchings along the edges, all symbols of protection and eternal love in the old language.

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