Daughter of the Spellcaster

“I’m doing this alone. That’s the way I want it, Bill.” She patted his back twice, the international signal for “this hug is about to cross the boundary from friendly to awkward,” and he let go and backed a step away.

“You look wonderful,” she said before he could continue on the topic of her pregnancy. “Better than before the heart attack, honestly. You’ve lost weight.”

“Thirty pounds.” There was pride in his voice. And then he was going on about his new diet, and having given up alcohol, cigarettes and mayonnaise.

She listened, because she was not only polite but truly interested in how her former boss was doing. But she still glanced back toward the ornate doors of St. Pat’s whenever she could manage it without being rude, and on the third such peek she spotted Ryan. He hadn’t seen her yet, and she scooted around to Bill’s other side so he wouldn’t. She just wasn’t ready to see his reaction to her baby bump. Not yet. Not there.

She guessed there would be no hiding it at the graveside, but she felt she had to go. And really, she couldn’t keep it from him forever. Had never intended to. Just… well, the more time she had let slide past, the easier it had become not to call. And now there she was, and there he was, and it was time. Past time.

“Do you mind if I ride with you to the cemetery?” she asked Bill, cutting him off in mid-cholesterol count.

“Well, of course not. We’re parked back here.” He put a hand at the small of her back and steered her further away from the cathedral, thank goodness, and around a corner. It was going to be a long ride to the cemetery, she thought, as he began listing off the others from the firm, and the spouses of same, who were riding in the stretch limo they’d hired for the occasion. The thing was huge, and there was definitely room for one more.

She eased herself into the vehicle, and spent the next forty-five minutes catching up with former co-workers and trying to describe her new life in a way that didn’t sound painfully boring to them. And it was boring, really. Utterly tranquil, filled with peaceful bliss. Lonely, of course, but she had her mom. And aside from that loneliness and the odd presence they referred to as their house ghost and who was, they’d decided, harmless, their lives were perfect. Besides, Lena figured the loneliness would be gone the minute the baby arrived, so…

Yes, she thought, it was a long ride to the cemetery.

But not long enough.

She stood behind a crowd of people, wearing a capestyle coat, and holding her purse, brown knit beret-style hat, matching scarf and leather gloves in front of her belly.

It was roughly like a bear trying to hide behind a dandelion, but trying was automatic. Ryan was up front, near the graveside, which was clearly a hole in the ground even though it was decorated in an effort to keep it from looking like one. The shiny brass frame that held the casket was draped in fabric. But nothing could hide the fact that it covered a rectangular pit in the dirt.

As the priest spoke, Lena caught Ryan looking for her, his probing eyes scanning the crowd as she tried to shrink into herself. Eventually he spotted her, as she had known he would. Their eyes met, and just like that her heart flipped in her chest. Was he really more beautiful than he’d been before? Was she really that hungry just for the sight of him? Emotions started hurling themselves, like rampaging waters demanding release, against the floodgates that had been keeping them where they belonged for the seven months since she’d left him. Her eyes filled with tears and some of them leaked through. Pregnancy hormones, she told herself. Damn them.

She shifted sideways, breaking the eye contact and silencing those raging waters inside her—for the moment. There was a chest-high tombstone right beside her, and she moved to stand behind it. But all too soon the mourners were filing forward one by one, shaking Ryan’s hand, wishing him well. Some threw dirt. Some laid flowers on top of the shining wood of the casket.

Lena didn’t get into the line. She stayed where she was, feeling trapped. The shielding crowd of bodies around her had dissipated. If she stepped into the open, she would be fully exposed to Ryan’s eyes. So, like a coward, she stayed where she was and just waited.

And soon they were all gone. Even the priest. Bahru met her eyes and gave her a silent nod, and then he, too, went to a waiting car.

The only car left was clearly Ryan’s. A sporty little black thing that she had no idea how to identify. He ignored it, brushed the dirt from his hands and came closer. Lena leaned her folded hands on the tombstone, as if that would explain why she was still standing behind it, when she knew it wouldn’t. She just looked dumb. But soon enough he would understand why.

“I’m really glad you came.” Blinding sunlight streamed from the January sky. There was only a little snow in the cemetery, tufts and puffs clinging to the shadowy places. The rest of the ground was sticky with mud, more like spring than late winter.

“Of course I came. I loved him.”

A corner of his mouth pulled upward. “He loved you, too.”

He’d lost weight, she thought. There were harsher angles to his face now. As if he’d been sick, maybe, or just getting over the flu. And she noticed, too, that his whiskers were coming in. Ryan had a beard that just wanted to grow. Every morning he shaved, and every night he looked like he hadn’t bothered.

She’d loved that about him. By midnight those bristles were just the right length to give her chills when they rasped over her skin in bed.

Her heart skipped; her belly tightened.

“Are you coming to the mansion?”

He was getting closer, taking a few steps, then stopping as if he expected her to move toward him, looking more and more puzzled that she didn’t.

“For the reception?” she asked, knowing that wasn’t the right term but thinking there wasn’t one. Food, alcohol, stories about the deceased, traditional post-funeral activities… what did you call that? “I don’t think so.”

She didn’t want to put herself through the pretense, much less parade her belly around for the world to see and wonder about, maybe even ask about—at least the rude among them.

What she wanted to do was to rush into Ryan’s arms. At the same time she wanted to run away without giving him a glimpse of her belly or an answer to what had to be his countless unasked questions.

She didn’t do either. She just stood there.

“I don’t blame you. I don’t want to go, either.”

“Then don’t go. You need to take care of yourself first.” It was automatic, that answer.

Ryan smiled softly. “I’ve missed those affirmations of yours. Your positive-thinking tips of the day, I used to call them. You always seemed to have one for every occasion.”

“And you always thought they were cute but useless.”

“Or so I said at the time. Truth is, they stuck with me. I’ve even put a few of them into practice.”

“Oh yeah? And how’s it going so far?”

He shrugged. “I guess I ran out. I’ve been wondering what you’d say about today, about how I’m supposed to deal with things. I couldn’t come up with anything for this.”

She drew a deep breath. “Try to find something to focus on that feels just a little bit better. Try to do whatever will help you feel a little bit of relief. If you don’t want to go to the gathering at your father’s mansion, then don’t go.”

“That wouldn’t look very good.”

“Ryan, since when do you care how things look to other people? You drove your own car today instead of riding in a limo, for heaven’s sake.”

He lifted his gaze to hers. “That’s a good point. But what about my father?” He turned to look at the casket as he asked the question. “Wouldn’t he expect me to be there?”

“Right now, Ryan, your father understands everything. He’s at complete peace, at complete oneness. He’s achieved enlightenment and would no more put any expectations on you than he would… jump out of that box and dance a jig. He’s not there, Ryan. He’s in bliss. He’s with your mom. And they both understand everything you ever did, felt or thought, and it’s okay. It’s all okay.”

“That’s good. That actually helps a little.”

“I’m glad.”

“Anything else? Other bits of witchy wisdom for the infidel to try?”

“Yeah. When the things that have your attention are very bad, the be-all and end-all solution is to get distracted.”

He stared at her, even tried for a lecherous leer. “Are you… offering to distract me?”

“Yeah, just not in the way you think.” She drew a deep breath and stepped out from behind the headstone. She had unbuttoned her coat, so her belly was in plain sight.

“Son of a—”

“Or daughter. I didn’t let them tell me. But I’m pretty sure she’s a girl.”

He was dead silent, just staring at her belly. Then, all at once, his expression changed, and she knew he was asking himself the obvious question and doing the math in his head, counting how many months since she had left.