Page 52 of Which Witch is Willing?
Loved him the way the sea loves the shore. The only thing large and solid enough to not recoil from the full force of its wrath.
Which explained why she’d tried so goddamn hard to drive him away.
“Shit,” Moira said, her face dropping into her hands.
Understanding this for the admission it was, Sal reached out and patted Moira’s knee. “You two are gonna be real happy, Moira Jo. I mean, provided the world ain’t reduced to a heap of smoldering ash directly.”
Big fat tears dripped from her chin, darkening the cement like the first drops of rain.
Moira sniffed and wiped at her salty lips. “Because I finally met a man who can tame me?”
“Because you finally met a man who won’t try.”
With those words, the catch in Moira’s chest released.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, she took a deep breath, the mingled scents of ash and salt air filling her lungs. “Well, I suppose there ain’t no sense in drawing this out any longer.” Tucking Cheeto under her arm, she ungracefully maneuvered her way to her feet.
From somewhere down below, Moira heard a hearty shoooeee and looked over the railing to find Mookey and Little Earl holding the bottom of a violently wobbling ladder and Red halfway up it, clutching a rung with one hand while wildly waving his trucker cap like a bull rider in the other.
“What in the Sam Hill do you fools think you’re doin’?” Sal shouted down at them.
The ladder came to rest against the side of the house with a resounding thump and all three men glanced around guiltily.
“We were just out in the yard and we heard somethin’.” Red called up. “We thought we might should investigate.”
“What the actual fuck?” The outraged cry followed the unmistakable crash of Aerin’s window being thrown open.
“Now!” someone hissed from below.
Red pressed his cap to his chest, the other reaching upward with all the gravitas of a preacher at the pulpit. “What light through yonder winder breaks? ‘Tis the beast! And Aerin is the sun!”
“You dipshit!” Little Earl barked. “It ain’t beast, it’s east! We done talked about this!”
His soliloquy interrupted, Red cast a baleful glance downward. “I’m improvizationalizin’! And anyhow, I didn’t see you bein’ the one offerin’ to haul your lazy ass up the ladder, Earl!”
“Don’t you call me lazy, you skunk lickin’ chicken fucker!” With this, Little Earl gave the ladder a threatening shake.
“First of all, I ain’t ever licked a skunk and second, it wasn’t a chicken, it was a—”
Moira’s eardrum puncturing whistle dropped everyone into a sudden silence. “Uncle Red, you’re gonna climb yourself down from that ladder right this second, then you all are going back to your boat.”
Mookey shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed at the dirt like a little boy just sent to his corner as Red descended, a cloud of creative expletives hovering around him like gnats.
“Don’t be too sore at ‘em,” Sal said with something like fondness on his face. “They just never seen a woman with all her natural teeth before.”
“You all right to keep an eye on them while I…while we…” Moira paused, searching for the right consolidation of the business ahead. “Do what needs doin’?”
Sal nodded sagely, dropping a hand on Moira’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known, Moira Jo. And no matter what happens, I am so proud of you.”
Moira’s nose stung as she saw the matching sheen of tears gathering in the weathered folds at the corner of Sal’s eyes. She let him draw her into his bony chest, resting her ear against the reliable engine of his heart. She thought of the storms she had weathered with this sound as her compass and anchor. Simple steadiness inside the storm’s very eye.
Fortified, she released him, turning her face to the chaos to come.
One last time.
24
“Are y’all sure this is strictly necessary?” Moira stood in the center of the room, the circle of flickering candles around her casting making dancing ghosts of the shadows. Naked save for a plain white cotton shift that someone had hauled down from the attic, Moira waited, her arms held out like a scarecrow.
