Page 22 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
Tears streamed down Clara’s face. Evie knelt down in front of her and pulled her close. “I know, honeybee. But the firefighters are taking care of it.”
She stared up over the top of Clara’s head and watched the stream of water pour from the hose and into her attic where she lit every candle and cast every spell, building this life for herself and her daughter.
Nothing had ever damaged Honeysuckle House before. Even when a heavy branch had fallen on the roof a few years ago, the house had found a way to shore itself up before the impact, and the splintered wood had slid off the shingles like it weighed little more than a leaf or twig.
After several minutes that felt like an eternity, the flames died down, leaving only smoke in their wake. Evie tucked Clara into her side and shuddered, afraid of what she’d find once they let her inside. Angela rested a hand on Evie’s shoulder.
“You’ll get through this,” Angela said.
Evie nodded, swallowed hard, nodded again. “I wish Florence—” But her sister’s name got stuck in her mouth.
“I know,” Angela said. “I know.”
Evie’s throat tightened, and her tears started up all over again. She blinked them back and forced herself to take in the rest of the scene now that the flames were out.
The handful of guests who’d been at the bed and breakfast when the house caught fire stood on the lawn staring up at the turret. Very likely she’d have to turn them away, cancel the rest of their stays. But she could still hold the festival—the honey harvest, the candle dipping. She didn’t need to have anyone in the house for that. All of her work didn’t have to be for nothing.
Clara tugged at her sleeve.
“Can I go see the house now?” she asked. “The fire’s out.”
“We need to wait until they tell us it’s safe to go inside,” Evie said.
Clara stuck out her bottom lip. “But …”
Before Clara could argue, Ron came over to talk to them.
Clara’s eyes brightened. She planted her hands on her hips, looked up, and said, “What’s the damage, Ron?”
“That’s Mr. Cooke to you,” Evie said, though she was grateful that even in a moment like this her daughter could put a smile on her face. But when Evie spoke to Ron, she couldn’t keep the fear from her voice. “How bad is it?”
“Not as bad as it looks from out here,” he said, and Evie sagged forward with relief. Angela rested a hand on her back.
“The fire burned a hole through an interior wall in the turret.” He nodded to the little tower Evie had made her own. “There was some damage to the floor as well, mostly cosmetic—like it shot straight for the wall and hit nothing else. Never seen anything like it.”
“Is it safe to go in?” Evie asked.
He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked behind him toward the truck where the rest of his crew was packing things up. “I’m not supposed to give you an opinion, legal reasons and all that. But it looks safe to me. Hardly even a lingering smell.”
Evie felt the tension drain from her shoulders. Angela took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Clara ran right up the front stairs and wrapped her arms around one of the columns. “I’m so glad you’re going to be okay.”
“Thank you so much,” Evie said. “I’ll go let the guests know.”
Before she could take a step, Ron held up a hand. “It might look safe to me, but I’m no expert on building integrity. You really need to have someone come take a look to be sure. You can go in to grab a few things, but I wouldn’t let anyone sleep in the house tonight.”
Evie nodded slowly.
“You and Clara can stay with me,” Angela said.
Ron pulled a card out of his pocket and held it out toward Evie. “This is a fire remediation expert I trust out of Knoxville. Let him know I sent you. He’ll probably be able to come out tomorrow to let you know if there’s more damage than what we saw up there and when it’s safe to be back in the house. I won’t be surprised if he tells you your guests can come back as early as tomorrow night.”
Evie breathed a long, slow sigh of relief.
But Ron wasn’t finished. “Of course, even if he does say that, I might consider keeping your doors closed until after the festival this year, maybe let things stay in the town square. If you know what I mean.”
Evie could only nod, the fight gone out of her. Even if there wasn’t lingering smoke or danger, even if the house had managed to stop the flames, it had still caught fire. It had turned a pregnant woman out of her bed. As Evie looked up at it now, it stared back, haunted in a way it had never felt before. As much as Evie wanted to believe her efforts had been enough to break the curse, she couldn’t take that risk. Because in four short days, there was a very real chance someone she loved would die right here in her home—if the curse didn’t take her instead.
Chapter Twelve
