Page 7 of Witch
Matthew nodded, then lifted his head as if hearing something strange. He grinned at the group, then spoke.
“I do believe the new members will be starting today.”
CHAPTER FIVE
As the dozens of people surrounded the cottage, they could hear the newborn cries of twins. A boy and a girl. When the proud daddy stepped out onto the porch, the others grinned at him.
“Hello, world,” smiled CJ. “Jill and I would like to introduce you to Cordelia and Cooper Abbott.”
“Oh, CJ,” smiled Lia. Milo nodded at his son, while Teddy carefully made his way up the steps to hold his great-great-grandchildren.
“They’re perfect,” said Teddy with a sniff. He looked at the sweet faces and realized how blessed he’d been to enjoy not only his grandson, Milo, but his great-grandson, and now his great-great-grandson and -granddaughter. Truly blessed.
“Can we see, Jill?” asked Lia.
“Of course, Mom,” he smiled.
Lia walked onto the porch, Teddy now seated in a rocker with the babies in his arms. She touched his shoulder, and he started to move forward so she could take one.
“No. You hold them a while longer, Teddy,” smiled the woman. “I’ll be back shortly to take one from you.”
Trevon and Millicent smiled at the scene, realizing that they would be next to welcome their very large bundle of joy to the team.
“Well, we’ve got a lot to celebrate,” smiled Sara. “I’ll start the feast.”
“I’ll help, honey,” said Irene. “Nothin’ I like more than celebratin’ my babies.”
People waited their turn to say hello to the newest members of the team. It was a longstanding tradition, and no one wanted to miss this opportunity. Matthew stood off to the side of the porch, watching it all, smiling as he always did.
This is what life was about. Legacy. Long-lasting legacy. Giving something to the world that they could be proud of. How could you not be proud of providing humans who gave more than they took?
“You alright, Pops?” asked Camille.
“I’m perfect, my sweet girl,” he said, kissing his daughter’s head. “I remember every second of the births of my children. Each one special. Each one unique. You twins were always fun.”
“I bet we were,” she laughed.
“Oh, how I rejoiced at it all. There were some lean years here, and then the land provided for us. Oil, gas, and magic beyond our imaginations. Then spouses, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and so much more. I have nothing in my life that I regret. Nothing.”
“Pops? We need to move on this accident thing sooner rather than later,” said Jean. “The boys just heard that this man in New Orleans is demanding the sheriff serve Mama papers to appear at a hearing.”
“Alright,” he nodded. “Let’s give them what they want.”
“Mr. Hopkin,” said the judge.
“It’s Hopkins. Marcus Hopkins, my ancestor, was the great witch-hunter, Matthew Hopkins.”
“Is that so?” smirked the judge. “Well, here’s some news for you, son. I don’t give a damn. You’re not in medieval England or Salem in the 1600s. You’re in my parish. Mine. And witchcraft does not exist, especially not with Irene Robicheaux. She’s a fine woman who’s taken excellent care of herself. That’s all.”
“She’s a witch and needs to be tried for such,” he demanded.
“There is no witch trial. There is no law against practicing witchcraft, real or not. The law you cited in your demands has to do with palm reading and tarot cards, reading folks’ futures. Not witchcraft.”
“She’s done those things, I tell you!” he yelled at the room.
“You yell in my courtroom one more time and I’ll have you spend the night in our fine parish facilities,” he said calmly. “Whatever your beef is with the Robicheauxs, you should think twice before pursuing it.”
“I want to question this woman. I want to question her and prove to the world that she is actively practicing witchcraft. Her and the other woman that was with her in that tree out there,” he said, pointing in the direction of Jackson Square.
